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  • Volume II., by John Locke
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  • Title: An Essay Concerning Humane Understanding, Volume II.
  • MDCXC, Based on the 2nd Edition, Books III. and IV. (of 4)
  • Author: John Locke
  • Release Date: January 6, 2004 [EBook #10616]
  • Last Updated: January 31, 2018
  • Language: English
  • *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HUMANE UNDERSTANDING, V2 ***
  • Produced by Steve Harris and David Widger
  • AN ESSAY CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING
  • BY
  • JOHN LOCKE
  • [Based on the 2d Edition] CONTENTS OF THE SECOND VOLUME
  • BOOK III. OF WORDS.
  • CHAP.
  • I. OF WORDS OR LANGUAGE IN GENERAL
  • II. OF THE SIGNIFICATION OF WORDS
  • III. OF GENERAL TERMS
  • IV. OF THE NAMES OF SIMPLE IDEAS
  • V. OF THE NAMES OF MIXED MODES AND RELATIONS
  • VI. OF THE NAMES OF SUBSTANCES
  • VII. OF PARTICLES
  • VIII. OF ABSTRACT AND CONCRETE TERMS
  • IX. OF THE IMPERFECTION OF WORDS
  • X. OF THE ABUSE OF WORDS
  • XI. OF THE REMEDIES OF THE FOREGOING IMPERFECTION AND ABUSES
  • BOOK IV. OF KNOWLEDGE AND PROBABILITY.
  • CHAP.
  • I. OF KNOWLEDGE IN GENERAL
  • II. OF THE DEGREES OF OUR KNOWLEDGE
  • III. OF THE EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE
  • IV. OF THE REALITY OF OUR KNOWLEDGE
  • V. OF TRUTH IN GENERAL
  • VI. OF UNIVERSAL PROPOSITIONS: THEIR TRUTH AND CERTAINTY
  • VII. OF MAXIMS
  • VIII. OF TRIFLING PROPOSITIONS
  • IX. OF OUR THREEFOLD KNOWLEDGE OF EXISTENCE
  • X. OF OUR KNOWLEDGE OF THE EXISTENCE OF A GOD
  • XI. OF OUR KNOWLEDGE OF THE EXISTENCE OF OTHER THINGS
  • XII. OF THE IMPROVEMENT OF OUR KNOWLEDGE
  • XIII. SOME OTHER CONSIDERATIONS CONCERNING OUR KNOWLEDGE
  • XIV. OF JUDGMENT
  • XV. OF PROBABILITY
  • XVI. OF THE DEGREES OF ASSENT
  • XVII. OF REASON [AND SYLLOGISM]
  • XVIII. OF FAITH AND REASON, AND THEIR DISTINCT PROVINCES
  • XIX. [OF ENTHUSIASM]
  • XX. OF WRONG ASSENT, OR ERROR
  • XXI. OF THE DIVISION OF THE SCIENCES
  • BOOK III
  • OF WORDS
  • CHAPTER I.
  • OF WORDS OR LANGUAGE IN GENERAL.
  • 1. Man fitted to form articulated Sounds.
  • God, having designed man for a sociable creature, made him not only with
  • an inclination, and under a necessity to have fellowship with those of
  • his own kind, but furnished him also with language, which was to be
  • the great instrument and common tie of society. Man, therefore, had by
  • nature his organs so fashioned, as to be fit to frame articulate sounds,
  • which we call words. But this was not enough to produce language; for
  • parrots, and several other birds, will be taught to make articulate
  • sounds distinct enough, which yet by no means are capable of language.
  • 2. To use these sounds as Signs of Ideas.
  • Besides articulate sounds, therefore, it was further necessary that he
  • should be able to use these sounds as signs of internal conceptions; and
  • to make them stand as marks for the ideas within his own mind, whereby
  • they might be made known to others, and the thoughts of men's minds be
  • conveyed from one to another.
  • 3. To make them general Signs.
  • But neither was this sufficient to make words so useful as they ought to
  • be. It is not enough for the perfection of language, that sounds can
  • be made signs of ideas, unless those signs can be so made use of as to
  • comprehend several particular things: for the multiplication of words
  • would have perplexed their use, had every particular thing need of
  • a distinct name to be signified by. [To remedy this inconvenience,
  • language had yet a further improvement in the use of GENERAL TERMS,
  • whereby one word was made to mark a multitude of particular existences:
  • which advantageous use of sounds was obtained only by the difference of
  • the ideas they were made signs of: those names becoming general, which
  • are made to stand for GENERAL IDEAS, and those remaining particular,
  • where the IDEAS they are used for are PARTICULAR.]
  • 4. To make them signify the absence of positive Ideas.
  • Besides these names which stand for ideas, there be other words which
  • men make use of, not to signify any idea, but the want or absence of
  • some ideas, simple or complex, or all ideas together; such as are NIHIL
  • in Latin, and in English, IGNORANCE and BARRENNESS. All which negative
  • or privative words cannot be said properly to belong to, or signify no
  • ideas: for then they would be perfectly insignificant sounds; but they
  • relate to positive ideas, and signify their absence.
  • 5. Words ultimately derived from such as signify sensible Ideas.
  • It may also lead us a little towards the original of all our notions and
  • knowledge, if we remark how great a dependence our words have on common
  • sensible ideas; and how those which are made use of to stand for actions
  • and notions quite removed from sense, have their rise from thence, and
  • from obvious sensible ideas are transferred to more abstruse
  • significations, and made to stand for ideas that come not under the
  • cognizance of our senses; v.g. to IMAGINE, APPREHEND, COMPREHEND,
  • ADHERE, CONCEIVE, INSTIL, DISGUST, DISTURBANCE, TRANQUILLITY, &c., are
  • all words taken from the operations of sensible things, and applied to
  • certain modes of thinking. SPIRIT, in its primary signification, is
  • breath; ANGEL, a messenger: and I doubt not but, if we could trace them
  • to their sources, we should find, in all languages, the names which
  • stand for things that fall not under our senses to have had their first
  • rise from sensible ideas. By which we may give some kind of guess what
  • kind of notions they were, and whence derived, which filled their minds
  • who were the first beginners of languages, and how nature, even in the
  • naming of things, unawares suggested to men the originals and principles
  • of all their knowledge: whilst, to give names that might make known to
  • others any operations they felt in themselves, or any other ideas that
  • came not under their senses, they were fain to borrow words from
  • ordinary known ideas of sensation, by that means to make others the more
  • easily to conceive those operations they experimented in themselves,
  • which made no outward sensible appearances; and then, when they had got
  • known and agreed names to signify those internal operations of their own
  • minds, they were sufficiently furnished to make known by words all their
  • other ideas; since they could consist of nothing but either of outward
  • sensible perceptions, or of the inward operations of their minds about
  • them; we having, as has been proved, no ideas at all, but what
  • originally come either from sensible objects without, or what we feel
  • within ourselves, from the inward workings of our own spirits, of which
  • we are conscious to ourselves within.
  • 6. Distribution of subjects to be treated of.
  • But to understand better the use and force of Language, as subservient
  • to instruction and knowledge, it will be convenient to consider:
  • First, TO WHAT IT IS THAT NAMES, IN THE USE OF LANGUAGE, ARE IMMEDIATELY
  • APPLIED.
  • Secondly, Since all (except proper) names are general, and so stand not
  • particularly for this or that single thing, but for sorts and ranks of
  • things, it will be necessary to consider, in the next place, what the
  • sorts and kinds, or, if you rather like the Latin names, WHAT THE
  • SPECIES AND GENERA OF THINGS ARE, WHEREIN THEY CONSIST, AND HOW THEY
  • COME TO BE MADE. These being (as they ought) well looked into, we shall
  • the better come to find the right use of words; the natural advantages
  • and defects of language; and the remedies that ought to be used,
  • to avoid the inconveniences of obscurity or uncertainty in the
  • signification of words: without which it is impossible to discourse with
  • any clearness or order concerning knowledge: which, being conversant
  • about propositions, and those most commonly universal ones, has greater
  • connexion with words than perhaps is suspected. These considerations,
  • therefore, shall be the matter of the following chapters.
  • CHAPTER II.
  • OF THE SIGNIFICATION OF WORDS.
  • 1. Words are sensible Signs, necessary for Communication of Ideas.
  • Man, though he have great variety of thoughts, and such from which
  • others as well as himself might receive profit and delight; yet they are
  • all within his own breast, invisible and hidden from others, nor can of
  • themselves be made to appear. The comfort and advantage of society not
  • being to be had without communication of thoughts, it was necessary
  • that man should find out some external sensible signs, whereof those
  • invisible ideas, which his thoughts are made up of, might be made known
  • to others. For this purpose nothing was so fit, either for plenty or
  • quickness, as those articulate sounds, which with so much ease and
  • variety he found himself able to make. Thus we may conceive how WORDS,
  • which were by nature so well adapted to that purpose, came to be made
  • use of by men as the signs of their ideas; not by any natural connexion
  • that there is between particular articulate sounds and certain ideas,
  • for then there would be but one language amongst all men; but by a
  • voluntary imposition, whereby such a word is made arbitrarily the mark
  • of such an idea. The use, then, of words, is to be sensible marks of
  • ideas; and the ideas they stand for are their proper and immediate
  • signification.
  • 2. Words, in their immediate Signification, are the sensible Signs of
  • his Ideas who uses them.
  • The use men have of these marks being either to record their own
  • thoughts, for the assistance of their own memory; or, as it were, to
  • bring out their ideas, and lay them before the view of others: words,
  • in their primary or immediate signification, stand for nothing but THE
  • IDEAS IN THE MIND OF HIM THAT USES THEM, how imperfectly soever or
  • carelessly those ideas are collected from the things which they are
  • supposed to represent. When a man speaks to another, it is that he may
  • be understood: and the end of speech is, that those sounds, as marks,
  • may make known his ideas to the hearer. That then which words are the
  • marks of are the ideas of the speaker: nor can any one apply them as
  • marks, immediately, to anything else but the ideas that he himself hath:
  • for this would be to make them signs of his own conceptions, and yet
  • apply them to other ideas; which would be to make them signs and not
  • signs of his ideas at the same time; and so in effect to have no
  • signification at all. Words being voluntary signs, they cannot be
  • voluntary signs imposed by him on things he knows not. That would be to
  • make them signs of nothing, sounds without signification. A man
  • cannot make his words the signs either of qualities in things, or of
  • conceptions in the mind of another, whereof he has none in his own. Till
  • he has some ideas of his own, he cannot suppose them to correspond with
  • the conceptions of another man; nor can he use any signs for them: for
  • thus they would be the signs of he knows not what, which is in truth to
  • be the signs of nothing. But when he represents to himself other men's
  • ideas by some of his own, if he consent to give them the same names that
  • other men do, it is still to his own ideas; to ideas that he has, and
  • not to ideas that he has not.
  • 3. Examples of this.
  • This is so necessary in the use of language, that in this respect the
  • knowing and the ignorant, the learned and the unlearned, use the words
  • they speak (with any meaning) all alike. They, in every man's mouth,
  • stand for the ideas he has, and which he would express by them. A child
  • having taken notice of nothing in the metal he hears called GOLD, but
  • the bright shining yellow colour, he applies the word gold only to his
  • own idea of that colour, and nothing else; and therefore calls the same
  • colour in a peacock's tail gold. Another that hath better observed, adds
  • to shining yellow great weight: and then the sound gold, when he uses
  • it, stands for a complex idea of a shining yellow and a very weighty
  • substance. Another adds to those qualities fusibility: and then the word
  • gold signifies to him a body, bright, yellow, fusible, and very heavy.
  • Another adds malleability. Each of these uses equally the word gold,
  • when they have occasion to express the idea which they have applied it
  • to: but it is evident that each can apply it only to his own idea; nor
  • can he make it stand as a sign of such a complex idea as he has not.
  • 4. Words are often secretly referred, First to the Ideas supposed to be
  • in other men's minds.
  • But though words, as they are used by men, can properly and immediately
  • signify nothing but the ideas that are in the mind of the speaker; yet
  • they in their thoughts give them a secret reference to two other things.
  • First, THEY SUPPOSE THEIR WORDS TO BE MARKS OF THE IDEAS IN THE MINDS
  • ALSO OF OTHER MEN, WITH WHOM THEY COMMUNICATE; for else they should talk
  • in vain, and could not be understood, if the sounds they applied to one
  • idea were such as by the hearer were applied to another, which is to
  • speak two languages. But in this men stand not usually to examine,
  • whether the idea they, and those they discourse with have in their
  • minds be the same: but think it enough that they use the word, as they
  • imagine, in the common acceptation of that language; in which they
  • suppose that the idea they make it a sign of is precisely the same to
  • which the understanding men of that country apply that name.
  • 5. Secondly, to the Reality of Things.
  • Secondly, Because men would not be thought to talk barely of their own
  • imagination, but of things as really they are; therefore they often
  • suppose the WORDS TO STAND ALSO FOR THE REALITY OF THINGS. But this
  • relating more particularly to substances and their names, as perhaps
  • the former does to simple ideas and modes, we shall speak of these two
  • different ways of applying words more at large, when we come to treat of
  • the names of mixed modes and substances in particular: though give me
  • leave here to say, that it is a perverting the use of words, and brings
  • unavoidable obscurity and confusion into their signification, whenever
  • we make them stand for anything but those ideas we have in our own
  • minds.
  • 6. Words by Use readily excite Ideas of their objects.
  • Concerning words, also, it is further to be considered:
  • First, that they being immediately the signs of men's ideas, and by that
  • means the instruments whereby men communicate their conceptions, and
  • express to one another those thoughts and imaginations they have within
  • their own breasts; there comes, by constant use, to be such a connexion
  • between certain sounds and the ideas they stand for, that the names
  • heard, almost as readily excite certain ideas as if the objects
  • themselves, which are apt to produce them, did actually affect the
  • senses. Which is manifestly so in all obvious sensible qualities, and in
  • all substances that frequently and familiarly occur to us.
  • 7. Words are often used without Signification, and Why.
  • Secondly, That though the proper and immediate signification of words
  • are ideas in the mind of the speaker, yet, because by familiar use from
  • our cradles, we come to learn certain articulate sounds very perfectly,
  • and have them readily on our tongues, and always at hand in our
  • memories, but yet are not always careful to examine or settle their
  • significations perfectly; it often happens that men, even when they
  • would apply themselves to an attentive consideration, do set their
  • thoughts more on words than things. Nay, because words are many of them
  • learned before the ideas are known for which they stand: therefore some,
  • not only children but men, speak several words no otherwise than parrots
  • do, only because they have learned them, and have been accustomed to
  • those sounds. But so far as words are of use and signification, so far
  • is there a constant connexion between the sound and the idea, and a
  • designation that the one stands for the other; without which application
  • of them, they are nothing but so much insignificant noise.
  • 8. Their Signification perfectly arbitrary, not the consequence of a
  • natural connexion.
  • Words, by long and familiar use, as has been said, come to excite in men
  • certain ideas so constantly and readily, that they are apt to suppose
  • a natural connexion between them. But that they signify only men's
  • peculiar ideas, and that BY A PERFECT ARBITRARY IMPOSITION, is evident,
  • in that they often fail to excite in others (even that use the same
  • language) the same ideas we take them to be signs of: and every man has
  • so inviolable a liberty to make words stand for what ideas he pleases,
  • that no one hath the power to make others have the same ideas in their
  • minds that he has, when they use the same words that he does. And
  • therefore the great Augustus himself, in the possession of that power
  • which ruled the world, acknowledged he could not make a new Latin word:
  • which was as much as to say, that he could not arbitrarily appoint what
  • idea any sound should be a sign of, in the mouths and common language of
  • his subjects. It is true, common use, by a tacit consent, appropriates
  • certain sounds to certain ideas in all languages, which so far limits
  • the signification of that sound, that unless a man applies it to the
  • same idea, he does not speak properly: and let me add, that unless a
  • man's words excite the same ideas in the hearer which he makes them
  • stand for in speaking, he does not speak intelligibly. But whatever be
  • the consequence of any man's using of words differently, either from
  • their general meaning, or the particular sense of the person to whom
  • he addresses them; this is certain, their signification, in his use of
  • them, is limited to his ideas, and they can be signs of nothing else.
  • CHAPTER III.
  • OF GENERAL TERMS.
  • 1. The greatest Part of Words are general terms.
  • All things that exist being particulars, it may perhaps be thought
  • reasonable that words, which ought to be conformed to things, should
  • be so too,--I mean in their signification: but yet we find quite the
  • contrary. The far greatest part of words that make all languages are
  • general terms: which has not been the effect of neglect or chance, but
  • of reason and necessity.
  • 2. That every particular Thing should have a Name for itself is
  • impossible.
  • First, It is impossible that every particular thing should have a
  • distinct peculiar name. For, the signification and use of words
  • depending on that connexion which the mind makes between its ideas and
  • the sounds it uses as signs of them, it is necessary, in the application
  • of names to things, that the mind should have distinct ideas of the
  • things, and retain also the particular name that belongs to every one,
  • with its peculiar appropriation to that idea. But it is beyond the
  • power of human capacity to frame and retain distinct ideas of all the
  • particular things we meet with: every bird and beast men saw; every tree
  • and plant that affected the senses, could not find a place in the
  • most capacious understanding. If it be looked on as an instance of a
  • prodigious memory, that some generals have been able to call every
  • soldier in their army by his proper name, we may easily find a reason
  • why men have never attempted to give names to each sheep in their flock,
  • or crow that flies over their heads; much less to call every leaf of
  • plants, or grain of sand that came in their way, by a peculiar name.
  • 3. And would be useless, if it were possible.
  • Secondly, If it were possible, it would yet be useless; because it would
  • not serve to the chief end of language. Men would in vain heap up names
  • of particular things, that would not serve them to communicate their
  • thoughts. Men learn names, and use them in talk with others, only that
  • they may be understood: which is then only done when, by use or consent,
  • the sound I make by the organs of speech, excites in another man's mind
  • who hears it, the idea I apply it to in mine, when I speak it. This
  • cannot be done by names applied to particular things; whereof I alone
  • having the ideas in my mind, the names of them could not be significant
  • or intelligible to another, who was not acquainted with all those very
  • particular things which had fallen under my notice.
  • 4. A distinct name for every particular thing not fitted for enlargement
  • of knowledge.
  • Thirdly, But yet, granting this also feasible, (which I think is not,)
  • yet a distinct name for every particular thing would not be of any
  • great use for the improvement of knowledge: which, though founded in
  • particular things, enlarges itself by general views; to which things
  • reduced into sorts, under general names, are properly subservient.
  • These, with the names belonging to them, come within some compass, and
  • do not multiply every moment, beyond what either the mind can contain,
  • or use requires. And therefore, in these, men have for the most part
  • stopped: but yet not so as to hinder themselves from distinguishing
  • particular things by appropriated names, where convenience demands it.
  • And therefore in their own species, which they have most to do with, and
  • wherein they have often occasion to mention particular persons, they
  • make use of proper names; and there distinct individuals have distinct
  • denominations.
  • 5. What things have proper Names, and why.
  • Besides persons, countries also, cities, rivers, mountains, and other
  • the like distinctions of place have usually found peculiar names, and
  • that for the same reason; they being such as men have often as occasion
  • to mark particularly, and, as it were, set before others in their
  • discourses with them. And I doubt not but, if we had reason to mention
  • particular horses as often as as have reason to mention particular men,
  • we should have proper names for the one, as familiar as for the other,
  • and Bucephalus would be a word as much in use as Alexander. And
  • therefore we see that, amongst jockeys, horses have their proper names
  • to be known and distinguished by, as commonly as their servants:
  • because, amongst them, there is often occasion to mention this or that
  • particular horse when he is out of sight.
  • 6. How general Words are made.
  • The next thing to be considered is,--How general words come to be made.
  • For, since all things that exist are only particulars, how come we by
  • general terms; or where find we those general natures they are supposed
  • to stand for? Words become general by being made the signs of
  • general ideas: and ideas become general, by separating from them the
  • circumstances of time and place, and any other ideas that may determine
  • them to this or that particular existence. By this way of abstraction
  • they are made capable of representing more individuals than one; each of
  • which having in it a conformity to that abstract idea, is (as we call
  • it) of that sort.
  • 7. Shown by the way we enlarge our complex ideas from infancy.
  • But, to deduce this a little more distinctly, it will not perhaps be
  • amiss to trace our notions and names from their beginning, and observe
  • by what degrees we proceed, and by what steps we enlarge our ideas from
  • our first infancy. There is nothing more evident, than that the ideas of
  • the persons children converse with (to instance in them alone) are, like
  • the persons themselves, only particular. The ideas of the nurse and the
  • mother are well framed in their minds; and, like pictures of them there,
  • represent only those individuals. The names they first gave to them are
  • confined to these individuals; and the names of NURSE and MAMMA, the
  • child uses, determine themselves to those persons. Afterwards, when time
  • and a larger acquaintance have made them observe that there are a great
  • many other things in the world, that in some common agreements of shape,
  • and several other qualities, resemble their father and mother, and those
  • persons they have been used to, they frame an idea, which they find
  • those many particulars do partake in; and to that they give, with
  • others, the name MAN, for example. And thus they come to have a general
  • name, and a general idea. Wherein they make nothing new; but only leave
  • out of the complex idea they had of Peter and James, Mary and Jane, that
  • which is peculiar to each, and retain only what is common to them all.
  • 8. And further enlarge our complex ideas, by still leaving out
  • properties contained in them.
  • By the same way that they come by the general name and idea of MAN, they
  • easily advance to more general names and notions. For, observing that
  • several things that differ from their idea of man, and cannot therefore
  • be comprehended out under that name, have yet certain qualities wherein
  • they agree with man, by retaining only those qualities, and uniting them
  • into one idea, they have again another and more general idea; to which
  • having given a name they make a term of a more comprehensive extension:
  • which new idea is made, not by any new addition, but only as before, by
  • leaving out the shape, and some other properties signified by the name
  • man, and retaining only a body, with life, sense, and spontaneous
  • motion, comprehended under the name animal.
  • 9. General natures are nothing but abstract and partial ideas of more
  • complex ones.
  • That this is the way whereby men first formed general ideas, and general
  • names to them, I think is so evident, that there needs no other proof
  • of it but the considering of a man's self, or others, and the ordinary
  • proceedings of their minds in knowledge. And he that thinks GENERAL
  • NATURES or NOTIONS are anything else but such abstract and partial ideas
  • of more complex ones, taken at first from particular existences, will, I
  • fear, be at a loss where to find them. For let any one effect, and then
  • tell me, wherein does his idea of MAN differ from that of PETER and
  • PAUL, or his idea of HORSE from that of BUCEPHALUS, but in the leaving
  • out something that is peculiar to each individual, and retaining so much
  • of those particular complex ideas of several particular existences as
  • they are found to agree in? Of the complex ideas signified by the names
  • MAN and HORSE, leaving out but those particulars wherein they differ,
  • and retaining only those wherein they agree, and of those making a new
  • distinct complex idea, and giving the name ANIMAL to it, one has a more
  • general term, that comprehends with man several other creatures. Leave
  • out of the idea of ANIMAL, sense and spontaneous motion, and the
  • remaining complex idea, made up of the remaining simple ones of body,
  • life, and nourishment, becomes a more general one, under the more
  • comprehensive term, VIVENS. And, not to dwell longer upon this
  • particular, so evident in itself; by the same way the mind proceeds to
  • BODY, SUBSTANCE, and at last to BEING, THING, and such universal terms,
  • which stand for any of our ideas whatsoever. To conclude: this whole
  • mystery of genera and species, which make such a noise in the schools,
  • and are with justice so little regarded out of them, is nothing else but
  • ABSTRACT IDEAS, more or less comprehensive, with names annexed to them.
  • In all which this is constant and unvariable, That every more general
  • term stands for such an idea, and is but a part of any of those
  • contained under it.
  • 10. Why the Genus is ordinarily made Use of in Definitions.
  • This may show us the reason why, in the defining of words, which is
  • nothing but declaring their signification, we make use of the GENUS, or
  • next general word that comprehends it. Which is not out of necessity,
  • but only to save the labour of enumerating the several simple ideas
  • which the next general word or GENUS stands for; or, perhaps, sometimes
  • the shame of not being able to do it. But though defining by GENUS and
  • DIFFERENTIA (I crave leave to use these terms of art, though originally
  • Latin, since they most properly suit those notions they are applied to),
  • I say, though defining by the GENUS be the shortest way, yet I think it
  • may be doubted whether it be the best. This I am sure, it is not the
  • only, and so not absolutely necessary. For, definition being nothing but
  • making another understand by words what idea the term defined stands
  • for, a definition is best made by enumerating those simple ideas that
  • are combined in the signification of the term defined: and if, instead
  • of such an enumeration, men have accustomed themselves to use the
  • next general term, it has not been out of necessity, or for greater
  • clearness, but for quickness and dispatch sake. For I think that, to one
  • who desired to know what idea the word MAN stood for; if it should be
  • said, that man was a solid extended substance, having life, sense,
  • spontaneous motion, and the faculty of reasoning, I doubt not but the
  • meaning of the term man would be as well understood, and the idea it
  • stands for be at least as clearly made known, as when it is defined
  • to be a rational animal: which, by the several definitions of ANIMAL,
  • VIVENS, and CORPUS, resolves itself into those enumerated ideas. I have,
  • in explaining the term MAN, followed here the ordinary definition of
  • the schools; which, though perhaps not the most, exact, yet serves well
  • enough to my present purpose. And one may, in this instance, see what
  • gave occasion to the rule, that a definition must consist of GENUS and
  • DIFFERENTIA; and it suffices to show us the little necessity there is
  • of such a rule, or advantage in the strict observing of it. For,
  • definitions, as has been said, being only the explaining of one word
  • by several others, so that the meaning or idea it stands for may be
  • certainly known; languages are not always so made according to the rules
  • of logic, that every term can have its signification exactly and clearly
  • expressed by two others. Experience sufficiently satisfies us to the
  • contrary; or else those who have made this rule have done ill, that they
  • have given us so few definitions conformable to it. But of definitions
  • more in the next chapter.
  • 11. General and Universal are Creatures of the Understanding, and belong
  • not to the Real Existence of things.
  • To return to general words: it is plain, by what has been said, that
  • GENERAL and UNIVERSAL belong not to the real existence of things; but
  • are the inventions and creatures of the understanding, made by it for
  • its own use, and concern only signs, whether words or ideas. Words are
  • general, as has been said, when used for signs of general ideas, and so
  • are applicable indifferently to many particular things; and ideas are
  • general when they are set up as the representatives of many particular
  • things: but universality belongs not to things themselves, which are all
  • of them particular in their existence, even those words and ideas which
  • in their signification are general. When therefore we quit particulars,
  • the generals that rest are only creatures of our own making; their
  • general nature being nothing but the capacity they are put into, by the
  • understanding, of signifying or representing many particulars. For the
  • signification they have is nothing but a relation that, by the mind of
  • man, is added to them.
  • 12. Abstract Ideas are the Essences of Genera and Species.
  • The next thing therefore to be considered is, What kind of signification
  • it is that general words have. For, as it is evident that they do not
  • signify barely one particular thing; for then they would not be general
  • terms, but proper names, so, on the other side, it is as evident they do
  • not signify a plurality; for MAN and MEN would then signify the same;
  • and the distinction of numbers (as the grammarians call them) would be
  • superfluous and useless. That then which general words signify is a SORT
  • of things; and each of them does that, by being a sign of an abstract
  • idea in the mind; to which idea, as things existing are found to agree,
  • so they come to be ranked under that name, or, which is all one, be of
  • that sort. Whereby it is evident that the ESSENCES of the sorts, or, if
  • the Latin word pleases better, SPECIES of things, are nothing else but
  • these abstract ideas. For the having the essence of any species, being
  • that which makes anything to be of that species; and the conformity to
  • the idea to which the name is annexed being that which gives a right to
  • that name; the having the essence, and the having that conformity, must
  • needs be the same thing: since to be of any species, and to have a right
  • to the name of that species, is all one. As, for example, to be a MAN,
  • or of the SPECIES man, and to have right to the NAME man, is the same
  • thing. Again, to be a man, or of the species man, and have the ESSENCE
  • of a man, is the same thing. Now, since nothing can be a man, or have a
  • right to the name man, but what has a conformity to the abstract idea
  • the name man stands for, nor anything be a man, or have a right to the
  • species man, but what has the essence of that species; it follows, that
  • the abstract idea for which the name stands, and the essence of the
  • species, is one and the same. From whence it is easy to observe, that
  • the essences of the sorts of things, and, consequently, the sorting of
  • things, is the workmanship of the understanding that abstracts and makes
  • those general ideas.
  • 13. They are the Workmanship of the Understanding, but have their
  • Foundation in the Similitude of Things.
  • I would not here be thought to forget, much less to deny, that Nature,
  • in the production of things, makes several of them alike: there is
  • nothing more obvious, especially in the races of animals, and all things
  • propagated by seed. But yet I think we may say, THE SORTING OF THEM
  • UNDER NAMES IS THE WORKMANSHIP OF THE UNDERSTANDING, TAKING OCCASION,
  • FROM THE SIMILITUDE IT OBSERVES AMONGST THEM, TO MAKE ABSTRACT GENERAL
  • IDEAS, and set them up in the mind, with names annexed to them, as
  • patterns or forms, (for, in that sense, the word FORM has a very proper
  • signification,) to which as particular things existing are found to
  • agree, so they come to be of that species, have that denomination, or
  • are put into that CLASSIS. For when we say this is a man, that a horse;
  • this justice, that cruelty; this a watch, that a jack; what do we else
  • but rank things under different specific names, as agreeing to those
  • abstract ideas, of which we have made those names the signs? And what
  • are the essences of those species set out and marked by names, but those
  • abstract ideas in the mind; which are, as it were, the bonds between
  • particular things that exist, and the names they are to be ranked under?
  • And when general names have any connexion with particular beings, these
  • abstract ideas are the medium that unites them: so that the essences of
  • species, as distinguished and denominated by us, neither are nor can
  • be anything but those precise abstract ideas we have in our minds. And
  • therefore the supposed real essences of substances, if different from
  • our abstract ideas, cannot be the essences of the species WE rank
  • things into. For two species may be one, as rationally as two different
  • essences be the essence of one species: and I demand what are the
  • alterations [which] may, or may not be made in a HORSE or LEAD, without
  • making either of them to be of another species? In determining the
  • species of things by OUR abstract ideas, this is easy to resolve: but if
  • any one will regulate himself herein by supposed REAL essences, he will
  • I suppose, be at a loss: and he will never be able to know when anything
  • precisely ceases to be of the species of a HORSE or LEAD.
  • 14. Each distinct abstract Idea is a distinct Essence.
  • Nor will any one wonder that I say these essences, or abstract ideas
  • (which are the measures of name, and the boundaries of species) are
  • the workmanship of the understanding, who considers that at least the
  • complex ones are often, in several men, different collections of simple
  • ideas; and therefore that is COVETOUSNESS to one man, which is not so to
  • another. Nay, even in substances, where their abstract ideas seem to be
  • taken from the things themselves, they are not constantly the same; no,
  • not in that species which is most familiar to us, and with which we have
  • the most intimate acquaintance: it having been more than once doubted,
  • whether the FOETUS born of a woman were a MAN, even so far as that it
  • hath been debated, whether it were or were not to be nourished and
  • baptized: which could not be, if the abstract idea or essence to
  • which the name man belonged were of nature's making; and were not
  • the uncertain and various collection of simple ideas, which the
  • understanding put together, and then, abstracting it, affixed a name
  • to it. So that, in truth, every distinct abstract idea is a distinct
  • essence; and the names that stand for such distinct ideas are the
  • names of things essentially different. Thus a circle is as essentially
  • different from an oval as a sheep from a goat; and rain is as
  • essentially different from snow as water from earth: that abstract idea
  • which is the essence of one being impossible to be communicated to the
  • other. And thus any two abstract ideas, that in any part vary one
  • from another, with two distinct names annexed to them, constitute two
  • distinct sorts, or, if you please, SPECIES, as essentially different as
  • any two of the most remote or opposite in the world.
  • 15. Several significations of the word Essence.
  • But since the essences of things are thought by some (and not without
  • reason) to be wholly unknown, it may not be amiss to consider the
  • several significations of the word ESSENCE.
  • Real essences.
  • First, Essence may be taken for the very being of anything, whereby it
  • is what it is. And thus the real internal, but generally (in substances)
  • unknown constitution of things, whereon their discoverable qualities
  • depend, may be called their essence. This is the proper original
  • signification of the word, as is evident from the formation of it;
  • essential in its primary notation, signifying properly, being. And in
  • this sense it is still used, when we speak of the essence of PARTICULAR
  • things, without giving them any name.
  • Nominal Essences.
  • Secondly, The learning and disputes of the schools having been much
  • busied about genus and species, the word essence has almost lost its
  • primary signification: and, instead of the real constitution of things,
  • has been almost wholly applied to the artificial constitution of
  • genus and species. It is true, there is ordinarily supposed a real
  • constitution of the sorts of things; and it is past doubt there must
  • be some real constitution, on which any collection of simple ideas
  • co-existing must depend. But, it being evident that things are ranked
  • under names into sorts or species, only as they agree to certain
  • abstract ideas, to which we have annexed those names, the essence of
  • each GENUS, or sort, comes to be nothing but that abstract idea which
  • the general, or sortal (if I may have leave so to call it from sort, as
  • I do general from genus,) name stands for. And this we shall find to be
  • that which the word essence imports in its most familiar use.
  • These two sorts of essences, I suppose, may not unfitly be termed, the
  • one the REAL, the other NOMINAL ESSENCE.
  • 16. Constant Connexion between the Name and nominal Essence.
  • Between the NOMINAL ESSENCE and the NAME there is so near a connexion,
  • that the name of any sort of things cannot be attributed to any
  • particular being but what has this essence, whereby it answers that
  • abstract idea whereof that name is the sign.
  • 17. Supposition, that Species are distinguished by their real Essences
  • useless.
  • Concerning the REAL ESSENCES of corporeal substances (to mention these
  • only) there are, if I mistake not, two opinions. The one is of those
  • who, using the word essence for they know not what, suppose a certain
  • number of those essences, according to which all natural things are
  • made, and wherein they do exactly every one of them partake, and so
  • become of this or that species. The other and more rational opinion is
  • of those who look on all natural things to have a real, but unknown,
  • constitution of their insensible parts; from which flow those sensible
  • qualities which serve us to distinguish them one from another, according
  • as we have occasion to rank them into sorts, under common denominations.
  • The former of these opinions, which supposes these essences as a certain
  • number of forms or moulds, wherein all natural things that exist are
  • cast, and do equally partake, has, I imagine, very much perplexed the
  • knowledge of natural things. The frequent productions of monsters, in
  • all the species of animals, and of changelings, and other strange issues
  • of human birth, carry with them difficulties, not possible to consist
  • with this hypothesis; since it is as impossible that two things
  • partaking exactly of the same real essence should have different
  • properties, as that two figures partaking of the same real essence of a
  • circle should have different properties. But were there no other reason
  • against it, yet the supposition of essences that cannot be known; and
  • the making of them, nevertheless, to be that which distinguishes the
  • species of things, is so wholly useless and unserviceable to any part of
  • our knowledge, that that alone were sufficient to make us lay it by, and
  • content ourselves with such essences of the sorts or species of things
  • as come within the reach of our knowledge: which, when seriously
  • considered, will be found, as I have said, to be nothing else but, those
  • ABSTRACT complex ideas to which we have annexed distinct general names.
  • 18. Real and nominal Essence
  • Essences being thus distinguished into nominal and real, we may further
  • observe, that, in the species of simple ideas and modes, they are always
  • the same; but in substances always quite different. Thus, a figure
  • including a space between three lines, is the real as well as nominal
  • essence of a triangle; it being not only the abstract idea to which the
  • general name is annexed, but the very ESSENTIA or being of the thing
  • itself; that foundation from which all its properties flow, and to which
  • they are all inseparably annexed. But it is far otherwise concerning
  • that parcel of matter which makes the ring on my finger; wherein these
  • two essences are apparently different. For, it is the real constitution
  • of its insensible parts, on which depend all those properties of colour,
  • weight, fusibility, fixedness, &c., which are to be found in it; which
  • constitution we know not, and so, having no particular idea of, having
  • no name that is the sign of it. But yet it is its colour, weight,
  • fusibility, fixedness, &c., which makes it to be gold, or gives it
  • a right to that name, which is therefore its nominal essence. Since
  • nothing can be called gold but what has a conformity of qualities to
  • that abstract complex idea to which that name is annexed. But this
  • distinction of essences, belonging particularly to substances, we shall,
  • when we come to consider their names, have an occasion to treat of more
  • fully.
  • 19. Essences ingenerable and incorruptible.
  • That such abstract ideas, with names to them, as we have been speaking
  • of are essences, may further appear by what we are told concerning
  • essences, viz. that they are all ingenerable and incorruptible. Which
  • cannot be true of the real constitutions of things, which begin and
  • perish with them. All things that exist, besides their Author, are all
  • liable to change; especially those things we are acquainted with, and
  • have ranked into bands under distinct names or ensigns. Thus, that which
  • was grass to-day is to-morrow the flesh of a sheep; and, within a few
  • days after, becomes part of a man: in all which and the like changes,
  • it is evident their real essence--i. e. that constitution whereon the
  • properties of these several things depended--is destroyed, and perishes
  • with them. But essences being taken for ideas established in the mind,
  • with names annexed to them, they are supposed to remain steadily the
  • same, whatever mutations the particular substances are liable to. For,
  • whatever becomes of ALEXANDER and BUCEPHALUS, the ideas to which MAN and
  • HORSE are annexed, are supposed nevertheless to remain the same; and
  • so the essences of those species are preserved whole and undestroyed,
  • whatever changes happen to any or all of the individuals of those
  • species. By this means the essence of a species rests safe and entire,
  • without the existence of so much as one individual of that kind. For,
  • were there now no circle existing anywhere in the world, (as perhaps
  • that figure exists not anywhere exactly marked out,) yet the idea
  • annexed to that name would not cease to be what it is; nor cease to be
  • as a pattern to determine which of the particular figures we meet with
  • have or have not a right to the NAME circle, and so to show which of
  • them, by having that essence, was of that species. And though there
  • neither were nor had been in nature such a beast as an UNICORN, or such
  • a fish as a MERMAID; yet, supposing those names to stand for complex
  • abstract ideas that contained no inconsistency in them, the essence of a
  • mermaid is as intelligible as that of a man; and the idea of an unicorn
  • as certain, steady, and permanent as that of a horse. From what has been
  • said, it is evident, that the doctrine of the immutability of essences
  • proves them to be only abstract ideas; and is founded on the relation
  • established between them and certain sounds as signs of them; and
  • will always be true, as long as the same name can have the same
  • signification.
  • 20. Recapitulation.
  • To conclude. This is that which in short I would say, viz. that all the
  • great business of GENERA and SPECIES, and their ESSENCES, amounts to no
  • more but this:--That men making abstract ideas, and settling them in
  • their minds with names annexed to them, do thereby enable themselves to
  • consider things, and discourse of them, as it were in bundles, for the
  • easier and readier improvement and communication of their knowledge,
  • which would advance but slowly were their words and thoughts confined
  • only to particulars.
  • CHAPTER IV.
  • OF THE NAMES OF SIMPLE IDEAS.
  • 1. Names of simple Ideas, Modes, and Substances, have each something
  • peculiar.
  • Though all words, as I have shown, signify nothing immediately but the
  • ideas in the mind of the speaker; yet, upon a nearer survey, we shall
  • find the names of SIMPLE IDEAS, MIXED MODES (under which I comprise
  • RELATIONS too), and NATURAL SUBSTANCES, have each of them something
  • peculiar and different from the other. For example:--
  • 2. First, Names of simple Ideas, and of Substances intimate real
  • Existence.
  • First, the names of SIMPLE IDEAS and SUBSTANCES, with the abstract ideas
  • in the mind which they immediately signify, intimate also some real
  • existence, from which was derived their original pattern. But the names
  • of MIXED MODES terminate in the idea that is in the mind, and lead not
  • the thoughts any further; as we shall see more at large in the following
  • chapter.
  • 3. Secondly, Names of simple Ideas and Modes signify always both real
  • and nominal Essences.
  • Secondly, The names of simple ideas and modes signify always the real
  • as well as nominal essence of their species. But the names of natural
  • substances signify rarely, if ever, anything but barely the nominal
  • essences of those species; as we shall show in the chapter that treats
  • of the names of substances in particular.
  • 4. Thirdly, Names of simple Ideas are undefinable.
  • Thirdly, The names of simple ideas are not capable of any definition;
  • the names of all complex ideas are. It has not, that I know, been yet
  • observed by anybody what words are, and what are not, capable of being
  • defined; the want whereof is (as I am apt to think) not seldom the
  • occasion of great wrangling and obscurity in men's discourses, whilst
  • some demand definitions of terms that cannot be defined; and others
  • think they ought not to rest satisfied in an explication made by a more
  • general word, and its restriction, (or to speak in terms of art, by a
  • genus and difference,) when, even after such definition, made according
  • to rule, those who hear it have often no more a clear conception of the
  • meaning of the word than they had before. This at least I think, that
  • the showing what words are, and what are not, capable of definitions,
  • and wherein consists a good definition, is not wholly besides our
  • present purpose; and perhaps will afford so much light to the nature
  • of these signs and our ideas, as to deserve a more particular
  • consideration.
  • 5. If all names were definable, it would be a Process IN INFINITUM.
  • I will not here trouble myself to prove that all terms are not
  • definable, from that progress IN INFINITUM, which it will visibly lead
  • us into, if we should allow that all names could be defined. For, if the
  • terms of one definition were still to be defined by another, where at
  • last should we stop? But I shall, from the nature of our ideas, and the
  • signification of our words, show WHY SOME NAMES CAN, AND OTHERS CANNOT
  • BE DEFINED; and WHICH THEY ARE.
  • 6. What a Definition is.
  • I think it is agreed, that a DEFINITION is nothing else but THE SHOWING
  • THE MEANING OF ONE WORD BY SEVERAL OTHER NOT SYNONYMOUS TERMS. The
  • meaning of words being only the ideas they are made to stand for by him
  • that uses them, the meaning of any term is then showed, or the word is
  • defined, when, by other words, the idea it is made the sign of, and
  • annexed to, in the mind of the speaker, is as it were represented, or
  • set before the view of another; and thus its signification ascertained.
  • This is the only use and end of definitions; and therefore the only
  • measure of what is, or is not a good definition.
  • 7. Simple Ideas, why undefinable.
  • This being premised, I say that the NAMES OF SIMPLE IDEAS, AND THOSE
  • ONLY, ARE INCAPABLE OF BEING DEFINED. The reason whereof is this, That
  • the several terms of a definition, signifying several ideas, they can
  • all together by no means represent an idea which has no composition
  • at all: and therefore a definition, which is properly nothing but the
  • showing the meaning of one word by several others not signifying each
  • the same thing, can in the names of simple ideas have no place.
  • 8. Instances: Scholastic definitions of Motion.
  • The not observing this difference in our ideas, and their names, has
  • produced that eminent trifling in the schools, which is so easy to be
  • observed in the definitions they give us of some few of these simple
  • ideas. For, as to the greatest part of them, even those masters
  • of definitions were fain to leave them untouched, merely by the
  • impossibility they found in it. What more exquisite jargon could the wit
  • of man invent, than this definition:--'The act of a being in power, as
  • far forth as in power;' which would puzzle any rational man, to whom it
  • was not already known by its famous absurdity, to guess what word it
  • could ever be supposed to be the explication of. If Tully, asking a
  • Dutchman what BEWEEGINGE was, should have received this explication
  • in his own language, that it was 'actus entis in potentia quatenus in
  • potentia;' I ask whether any one can imagine he could thereby have
  • understood what the word BEWEEGINGE signified, or have guessed what idea
  • a Dutchman ordinarily had in his mind, and would signify to another,
  • when he used that sound?
  • 9. Modern definition of Motion.
  • Nor have the modern philosophers, who have endeavoured to throw off the
  • jargon of the schools, and speak intelligibly, much better succeeded
  • in defining simple ideas, whether by explaining their causes, or any
  • otherwise. The atomists, who define motion to be 'a passage from one
  • place to another,' what do they more than put one synonymous word for
  • another? For what is PASSAGE other than MOTION? And if they were asked
  • what passage was, how would they better define it than by motion? For is
  • it not at least as proper and significant to say, Passage is a motion
  • from one place to another, as to say, Motion is a passage, &c.? This is
  • to translate, and not to define, when we change two words of the same
  • signification one for another; which, when one is better understood than
  • the other, may serve to discover what idea the unknown stands for; but
  • is very far from a definition, unless we will say every English word in
  • the dictionary is the definition of the Latin word it answers, and that
  • motion is a definition of MOTUS. Nor will 'the successive application of
  • the parts of the superficies of one body to those of another,' which the
  • Cartesians give us, prove a much better definition of motion, when well
  • examined.
  • 10. Definitions of Light.
  • 'The act of perspicuous, as far forth as perspicuous,' is another
  • Peripatetic definition of a simple idea; which, though not more
  • absurd than the former of motion, yet betrays its uselessness and
  • insignificancy more plainly; because experience will easily convince any
  • one that it cannot make the meaning of the word LIGHT (which it pretends
  • to define) at all understood by a blind man, but the definition of
  • motion appears not at first sight so useless, because it escapes this
  • way of trial. For this simple idea, entering by the touch as well as
  • sight, it is impossible to show an example of any one who has no other
  • way to get the idea of motion, but barely by the definition of that
  • name. Those who tell us that light is a great number of little globules,
  • striking briskly on the bottom of the eye, speak more intelligibly than
  • the Schools: but yet these words never so well understood would make the
  • idea the word light stands for no more known to a man that understands
  • it not before, than if one should tell him that light was nothing but a
  • company of little tennis-balls, which fairies all day long struck with
  • rackets against some men's foreheads, whilst they passed by others. For
  • granting this explication of the thing to be true, yet the idea of the
  • cause of light, if we had it never so exact, would no more give us the
  • idea of light itself, as it is such a particular perception in us, than
  • the idea of the figure and motion of a sharp piece of steel would give
  • us the idea of that pain which it is able to cause in us. For the cause
  • of any sensation, and the sensation itself, in all the simple ideas of
  • one sense, are two ideas; and two ideas so different and distant one
  • from another, that no two can be more so. And therefore, should Des
  • Cartes's globules strike never so long on the retina of a man who was
  • blind by a gutta serena, he would thereby never have any idea of light,
  • or anything approaching it, though he understood never so well what
  • little globules were, and what striking on another body was. And
  • therefore the Cartesians very well distinguish between that light which
  • is the cause of that sensation in us, and the idea which is produced in
  • us by it, and is that which is properly light.
  • 11. Simple Ideas, why undefinable, further explained.
  • Simple ideas, as has been shown, are only to be got by those impressions
  • objects themselves make on our minds, by the proper inlets appointed
  • to each sort. If they are not received this way, all the words in the
  • world, made use of to explain or define any of their names, will never
  • be able to produce in us the idea it stands for. For, words being
  • sounds, can produce in us no other simple ideas than of those very
  • sounds; nor excite any in us, but by that voluntary connexion which is
  • known to be between them and those simple ideas which common use has
  • made them the signs of. He that thinks otherwise, let him try if any
  • words can give him the taste of a pine apple, and make him have the true
  • idea of the relish of that celebrated delicious fruit. So far as he
  • is told it has a resemblance with any tastes whereof he has the ideas
  • already in his memory, imprinted there by sensible objects, not
  • strangers to his palate, so far may he approach that resemblance in his
  • mind. But this is not giving us that idea by a definition, but exciting
  • in us other simple ideas by their known names; which will be still
  • very different from the true taste of that fruit itself. In light and
  • colours, and all other simple ideas, it is the same thing: for the
  • signification of sounds is not natural, but only imposed and arbitrary.
  • And no DEFINITION of light or redness is more fitted or able to produce
  • either of those ideas in us, than the SOUND light or red, by itself.
  • For, to hope to produce an idea of light or colour by a sound, however
  • formed, is to expect that sounds should be visible, or colours audible;
  • and to make the ears do the office of all the other senses. Which is all
  • one as to say, that we might taste, smell, and see by the ears: a sort
  • of philosophy worthy only of Sancho Panza, who had the faculty to see
  • Dulcinea by hearsay. And therefore he that has not before received into
  • his mind, by the proper inlet, the simple idea which any word stands
  • for, can never come to know the signification of that word by any other
  • words or sounds whatsoever, put together according to any rules of
  • definition. The only way is, by applying to his senses the proper
  • object; and so producing that idea in him, for which he has learned the
  • name already. A studious blind man, who had mightily beat his head
  • about visible objects, and made use of the explication of his books and
  • friends, to understand those names of light and colours which often
  • came in his way, bragged one day, That he now understood what SCARLET
  • signified. Upon which, his friend demanding what scarlet was? The
  • blind man answered, It was like the sound of a trumpet. Just such an
  • understanding of the name of any other simple idea will he have, who
  • hopes to get it only from a definition, or other words made use of to
  • explain it.
  • 12. The contrary shown in complex ideas, by instances of a Statue and
  • Rainbow.
  • The case is quite otherwise in COMPLEX IDEAS; which, consisting of
  • several simple ones, it is in the power of words, standing for the
  • several ideas that make that composition, to imprint complex ideas in
  • the mind which were never there before, and so make their names be
  • understood. In such collections of ideas, passing under one name,
  • definition, or the teaching the signification of one word by several
  • others, has place, and may make us understand the names of things which
  • never came within the reach of our senses; and frame ideas suitable to
  • those in other men's minds, when they use those names: provided that
  • none of the terms of the definition stand for any such simple ideas,
  • which he to whom the explication is made has never yet had in his
  • thought. Thus the word STATUE may be explained to a blind man by other
  • words, when PICTURE cannot; his senses having given him the idea of
  • figure, but not of colours, which therefore words cannot excite in him.
  • This gained the prize to the painter against the statuary: each of which
  • contending for the excellency of his art, and the statuary bragging that
  • his was to be preferred, because it reached further, and even those who
  • had lost their eyes could yet perceive the excellency of it. The painter
  • agreed to refer himself to the judgment of a blind man; who being
  • brought where there was a statue made by the one, and a picture drawn by
  • the other; he was first led to the statue, in which he traced with his
  • hands all the lineaments of the face and body, and with great admiration
  • applauded the skill of the workman. But being led to the picture, and
  • having his hands laid upon it, was told, that now he touched the head,
  • and then the forehead, eyes, nose, &c., as his hand moved over the
  • parts of the picture on the cloth, without finding any the least
  • distinction: whereupon he cried out, that certainly that must needs be a
  • very admirable and divine piece of workmanship, which could represent to
  • them all those parts, where he could neither feel nor perceive anything.
  • 13. Colours indefinable to the born-blind.
  • He that should use the word RAINBOW to one who knew all those colours,
  • but yet had never seen that phenomenon, would, by enumerating the
  • figure, largeness, position, and order of the colours, so well
  • define that word that it might be perfectly understood. But yet that
  • definition, how exact and perfect soever, would never make a blind
  • man understand it; because several of the simple ideas that make
  • that complex one, being such as he never received by sensation and
  • experience, no words are able to excite them in his mind.
  • 14. Complex Ideas definable only when the simple ideas of which they
  • consist have been got from experience.
  • Simple ideas, as has been shown, can only be got by experience from
  • those objects which are proper to produce in us those perceptions. When,
  • by this means, we have our minds stored with them, and know the names
  • for them, then we are in a condition to define, and by definition to
  • understand, the names of complex ideas that are made up of them. But
  • when any term stands for a simple idea that a man has never yet had in
  • his mind, it is impossible by any words to make known its meaning to
  • him. When any term stands for an idea a man is acquainted with, but is
  • ignorant that that term is the sign of it, then another name of the
  • same idea, which he has been accustomed to, may make him understand
  • its meaning. But in no case whatsoever is any name of any simple idea
  • capable of a definition.
  • 15. Fourthly, Names of simple Ideas of less doubtful meaning than those
  • of mixed modes and substances.
  • Fourthly, But though the names of simple ideas have not the help of
  • definition to determine their signification, yet that hinders not but
  • that they are generally less doubtful and uncertain than those of
  • mixed modes and substances; because they, standing only for one simple
  • perception, men for the most part easily and perfectly agree in their
  • signification; and there is little room for mistake and wrangling about
  • their meaning. He that knows once that whiteness is the name of that
  • colour he has observed in snow or milk, will not be apt to misapply that
  • word, as long as he retains that idea; which when he has quite lost, he
  • is not apt to mistake the meaning of it, but perceives he understands it
  • not. There is neither a multiplicity of simple ideas to be put together,
  • which makes the doubtfulness in the names of mixed modes; nor a
  • supposed, but an unknown, real essence, with properties depending
  • thereon, the precise number whereof is also unknown, which makes the
  • difficulty in the names of substances. But, on the contrary, in simple
  • ideas the whole signification of the name is known at once, and consists
  • not of parts, whereof more or less being put in, the idea may be varied,
  • and so the signification of name be obscure, or uncertain.
  • 16. Simple Ideas have few Ascents in linea praedicamentali.
  • Fifthly, This further may be observed concerning simple Simple ideas and
  • their names, that they have but few ascents in linea praedicamentali,
  • (as they call it,) from the lowest species to the summum genus. The
  • reason whereof is, that the lowest species being but one simple idea,
  • nothing can be left out of it, that so the difference being taken away,
  • it may agree with some other thing in one idea common to them both;
  • which, having one name, is the genus of the other two: v.g. there is
  • nothing that can be left out of the idea of white and red to make
  • them agree in one common appearance, and so have one general name; as
  • RATIONALITY being left out of the complex idea of man, makes it agree
  • with brute in the more general idea and name of animal. And therefore
  • when, to avoid unpleasant enumerations, men would comprehend both white
  • and red, and several other such simple ideas, under one general name,
  • they have been fain to do it by a word which denotes only the way they
  • get into the mind. For when white, red, and yellow are all comprehended
  • under the genus or name colour, it signifies no more but such ideas
  • as are produced in the mind only by the sight, and have entrance only
  • through the eyes. And when they would frame yet a more general term to
  • comprehend both colours and sounds, and the like simple ideas, they do
  • it by a word that signifies all such as come into the mind only by one
  • sense. And so the general term QUALITY, in its ordinary acceptation,
  • comprehends colours, sounds, tastes, smells, and tangible qualities,
  • with distinction from extension, number, motion, pleasure, and pain,
  • which make impressions on the mind and introduce their ideas by more
  • senses than one.
  • 17. Sixthly, Names of simple Ideas not arbitrary, but perfectly taken
  • from the existence of things.
  • Sixthly, The names of simple ideas, substances, and mixed modes have
  • also this difference: that those of MIXED MODES stand for ideas
  • perfectly arbitrary; those of SUBSTANCES are not perfectly so, but refer
  • to a pattern, though with some latitude; and those of SIMPLE IDEAS are
  • perfectly taken from the existence of things, and are not arbitrary at
  • all. Which, what difference it makes in the significations of their
  • names, we shall see in the following chapters.
  • Simple modes.
  • The names of SIMPLE MODES differ little from those of simple ideas.
  • CHAPTER V.
  • OF THE NAMES OF MIXED MODES AND RELATIONS.
  • 1. Mixed modes stand for abstract Ideas, as other general Names.
  • The names of MIXED MODES, being general, they stand, as has been shewed,
  • for sorts or species of things, each of which has its peculiar essence.
  • The essences of these species also, as has been shewed, are nothing but
  • the abstract ideas in the mind, to which the name is annexed. Thus far
  • the names and essences of mixed modes have nothing but what is common to
  • them with other ideas: but if we take a little nearer survey of them, we
  • shall find that they have something peculiar, which perhaps may deserve
  • our attention.
  • 2. First, The abstract Ideas they stand for are made by the
  • Understanding.
  • The first particularity I shall observe in them, is, that the abstract
  • ideas, or, if you please, the essences, of the several species of mixed
  • modes, are MADE BY THE UNDERSTANDING, wherein they differ from those of
  • simple ideas: in which sort the mind has no power to make any one, but
  • only receives such as are presented to it by the real existence of
  • things operating upon it.
  • 3. Secondly, Made arbitrarily, and without Patterns.
  • In the next place, these essences of the species of mixed modes are not
  • only made by the mind, but MADE VERY ARBITRARILY, MADE WITHOUT PATTERNS,
  • OR REFERENCE TO ANY REAL EXISTENCE. Wherein they differ from those of
  • substances, which carry with them the supposition of some real being,
  • from which they are taken, and to which they are conformable. But, in
  • its complex ideas of mixed modes, the mind takes a liberty not to
  • follow the existence of things exactly. It unites and retains certain
  • collections, as so many distinct specific ideas; whilst others, that as
  • often occur in nature, and are as plainly suggested by outward things,
  • pass neglected, without particular names or specifications. Nor does the
  • mind, in these of mixed modes, as in the complex idea of substances,
  • examine them by the real existence of things; or verify them by patterns
  • containing such peculiar compositions in nature. To know whether his
  • idea of ADULTERY or INCEST be right, will a man seek it anywhere amongst
  • things existing? Or is it true because any one has been witness to such
  • an action? No: but it suffices here, that men have put together such a
  • collection into one complex idea, that makes the archetype and specific
  • idea; whether ever any such action were committed in rerum natura or no.
  • 4. How this is done.
  • To understand this right, we must consider wherein this making of these
  • complex ideas consists; and that is not in the making any new idea, but
  • putting together those which the mind had before. Wherein the mind does
  • these three things: First, It chooses a certain number; Secondly, It
  • gives them connexion, and makes them into one idea; Thirdly, It ties
  • them together by a name. If we examine how the mind proceeds in these,
  • and what liberty it takes in them, we shall easily observe how these
  • essences of the species of mixed modes are the workmanship of the mind;
  • and, consequently, that the species themselves are of men's making.
  • 5. Evidently arbitrary, in that the Idea is often before the Existence.
  • Nobody can doubt but that these ideas of mixed modes are made by a
  • voluntary collection of ideas, put together in the mind, independent
  • from any original patterns in nature, who will but reflect that this
  • sort of complex ideas may be made, abstracted, and have names given
  • them, and so a species be constituted, before any one individual of
  • that species ever existed. Who can doubt but the ideas of SACRILEGE or
  • ADULTERY might be framed in the minds of men, and have names given them,
  • and so these species of mixed modes be constituted, before either of
  • them was ever committed; and might be as well discoursed of and reasoned
  • about, and as certain truths discovered of them, whilst yet they had no
  • being but in the understanding, as well as now, that they have but too
  • frequently a real existence? Whereby it is plain how much the sorts of
  • mixed modes are the creatures of the understanding, where they have a
  • being as subservient to all the ends of real truth and knowledge, as
  • when they really exist. And we cannot doubt but law-makers have often
  • made laws about species of actions which were only the creatures of
  • their own understandings; beings that had no other existence but in
  • their own minds. And I think nobody can deny but that the RESURRECTION
  • was a species of mixed modes in the mind, before it really existed.
  • 6. Instances: Murder, Incest, Stabbing.
  • To see how arbitrarily these essences of mixed modes are made by the
  • mind, we need but take a view of almost any of them. A little looking
  • into them will satisfy us, that it is the mind that combines several
  • scattered independent ideas into one complex one; and, by the common
  • name it gives them, makes them the essence of a certain species, without
  • regulating itself by any connexion they have in nature. For what greater
  • connexion in nature has the idea of a man than the idea of a sheep with
  • killing, that this is made a particular species of action, signified by
  • the word MURDER, and the other not? Or what union is there in nature
  • between the idea of the relation of a father with killing than that of
  • a son or neighbour, that those are combined into one complex idea, and
  • thereby made the essence of the distinct species PARRICIDE, whilst the
  • other makes no distinct species at all? But, though they have made
  • killing a man's father or mother a distinct species from killing his son
  • or daughter, yet, in some other cases, son and daughter are taken in
  • too, as well as father and mother: and they are all equally comprehended
  • in the same species, as in that of INCEST. Thus the mind in mixed modes
  • arbitrarily unites into complex ideas such as it finds convenient;
  • whilst others that have altogether as much union in nature are left
  • loose, and never combined into one idea, because they have no need of
  • one name. It is evident then that the mind, by its free choice, gives
  • a connexion to a certain number of ideas, which in nature have no more
  • union with one another than others that it leaves out: why else is the
  • part of the weapon the beginning of the wound is made with taken notice
  • of, to make the distinct species called STABBING, and the figure and
  • matter of the weapon left out? I do not say this is done without reason,
  • as we shall see more by and by; but this I say, that it is done by the
  • free choice of the mind, pursuing its own ends; and that, therefore,
  • these species of mixed modes are the workmanship of the understanding.
  • And there is nothing more evident than that, for the most part, in the
  • framing these ideas, the mind searches not its patterns in nature, nor
  • refers the ideas it makes to the real existence of things, but puts such
  • together as may best serve its own purposes, without tying itself to a
  • precise imitation of anything that really exists.
  • 7. But still subservient to the End of Language, and not made at random.
  • But, though these complex ideas or essences of mixed modes depend on the
  • mind, and are made by it with great liberty, yet they are not made at
  • random, and jumbled together without any reason at all. Though these
  • complex ideas be not always copied from nature, yet they are always
  • suited to the end for which abstract ideas are made: and though they be
  • combinations made of ideas that are loose enough, and have as little
  • union in themselves as several other to which the mind never gives a
  • connexion that combines them into one idea; yet they are always made for
  • the convenience of communication, which is the chief end of language.
  • The use of language is, by short sounds, to signify with ease and
  • dispatch general conceptions; wherein not only abundance of particulars
  • may be contained, but also a great variety of independent ideas
  • collected into one complex one. In the making therefore of the species
  • of mixed modes, men have had regard only to such combinations as they
  • had occasion to mention one to another. Those they have combined into
  • distinct complex ideas, and given names to; whilst others, that in
  • nature have as near a union, are left loose and unregarded. For, to go
  • no further than human actions themselves, if they would make distinct
  • abstract ideas of all the varieties which might be observed in them, the
  • number must be infinite, and the memory confounded with the plenty, as
  • well as overcharged to little purpose. It suffices that men make and
  • name so many complex ideas of these mixed modes as they find they have
  • occasion to have names for, in the ordinary occurrence of their affairs.
  • If they join to the idea of killing the idea of father or mother, and
  • so make a distinct species from killing a man's son or neighbour, it
  • is because of the different heinousness of the crime, and the distinct
  • punishment is due to the murdering a man's father and mother, different
  • to what ought to be inflicted on the murder of a son or neighbour; and
  • therefore they find it necessary to mention it by a distinct name, which
  • is the end of making that distinct combination. But though the ideas of
  • mother and daughter are so differently treated, in reference to the idea
  • of killing, that the one is joined with it to make a distinct abstract
  • idea with a name, and so a distinct species, and the other not; yet, in
  • respect of carnal knowledge, they are both taken in under INCEST: and
  • that still for the same convenience of expressing under one name, and
  • reckoning of one species, such unclean mixtures as have a peculiar
  • turpitude beyond others; and this to avoid circumlocutions and tedious
  • descriptions.
  • 8. Whereof the intranslatable Words of divers Languages are a Proof.
  • A moderate skill in different languages will easily satisfy one of the
  • truth of this, it being so obvious to observe great store of words in
  • one language which have not any that answer them in another. Which
  • plainly shows that those of one country, by their customs and manner of
  • life, have found occasion to make several complex ideas, and given names
  • to them, which others never collected into specific ideas. This could
  • not have happened if these species were the steady workmanship of
  • nature, and not collections made and abstracted by the mind, in order to
  • naming, and for the convenience of communication. The terms of our law,
  • which are not empty sounds, will hardly find words that answer them in
  • the Spanish or Italian, no scanty languages; much less, I think, could
  • any one translate them into the Caribbee or Westoe tongues: and the
  • VERSURA of the Romans, or CORBAN of the Jews, have no words in other
  • languages to answer them; the reason whereof is plain, from what has
  • been said. Nay, if we look a little more nearly into this matter, and
  • exactly compare different languages, we shall find that, though they
  • have words which in translations and dictionaries are supposed to answer
  • one another, yet there is scarce one often amongst the names of complex
  • ideas, especially of mixed modes, that stands for the same precise idea
  • which the word does that in dictionaries it is rendered by. There are
  • no ideas more common and less compounded than the measures of time,
  • extension, and weight; and the Latin names, HORA, PES, LIBRA, are
  • without difficulty rendered by the English names, HOUR, FOOT, and POUND:
  • but yet there is nothing more evident than that the ideas a Roman
  • annexed to these Latin names, were very far different from those which
  • an Englishman expresses by those English ones. And if either of these
  • should make use of the measures that those of the other language
  • designed by their names, he would be quite out in his account. These are
  • too sensible proofs to be doubted; and we shall find this much more so
  • in the names of more abstract and compounded ideas, such as are the
  • greatest part of those which make up moral discourses: whose names, when
  • men come curiously to compare with those they are translated into, in
  • other languages, they will find very few of them exactly to correspond
  • in the whole extent of their significations.
  • 9. This shows Species to be made for Communication.
  • The reason why I take so particular notice of this is, that we may not
  • be mistaken about GENERA and SPECIES, and their ESSENCES, as if they
  • were things regularly and constantly made by nature, and had a real
  • existence in things; when they appear, upon a more wary survey, to
  • be nothing else but an artifice of the understanding, for the easier
  • signifying such collections of ideas as it should often have occasion to
  • communicate by one general term; under which divers particulars, as far
  • forth as they agreed to that abstract idea, might be comprehended. And
  • if the doubtful signification of the word SPECIES may make it sound
  • harsh to some, that I say the species of mixed modes are 'made by the
  • understanding'; yet, I think, it can by nobody be denied that it is the
  • mind makes those abstract complex ideas to which specific names are
  • given. And if it be true, as it is, that the mind makes the patterns for
  • sorting and naming of things, I leave it to be considered who makes the
  • boundaries of the sort or species; since with me SPECIES and SORT have
  • no other difference than that of a Latin and English idiom.
  • 10. In mixed Modes it is the Name that ties the Combination of simple
  • ideas together, and makes it a Species.
  • The near relation that there is between SPECIES, ESSENCES, and their
  • GENERAL NAME, at least in mixed modes, will further appear when we
  • consider, that it is the name that seems to preserve those essences, and
  • give them their lasting duration. For, the connexion between the loose
  • parts of those complex ideas being made by the mind, this union, which
  • has no particular foundation in nature, would cease again, were there
  • not something that did, as it were, hold it together, and keep the parts
  • from scattering. Though therefore it be the mind that makes the
  • collection, it is the name which is as it were the knot that ties them
  • fast together. What a vast variety of different ideas does the word
  • TRIUMPHUS hold together, and deliver to us as one species! Had this name
  • been never made, or quite lost, we might, no doubt, have had
  • descriptions of what passed in that solemnity: but yet, I think, that
  • which holds those different parts together, in the unity of one complex
  • idea, is that very word annexed to it; without which the several parts
  • of that would no more be thought to make one thing, than any other show,
  • which having never been made but once, had never been united into one
  • complex idea, under one denomination. How much, therefore, in mixed
  • modes, the unity necessary to any essence depends on the mind; and how
  • much the continuation and fixing of that unity depends on the name in
  • common use annexed to it, I leave to be considered by those who look
  • upon essences and species as real established things in nature.
  • 11.
  • Suitable to this, we find that men speaking of mixed modes, seldom
  • imagine or take any other for species of them, but such as are set out
  • by name: because they, being of man's making only, in order to naming,
  • no such species are taken notice of, or supposed to be, unless a name be
  • joined to it, as the sign of man's having combined into one idea several
  • loose ones; and by that name giving a lasting union to the parts which
  • would otherwise cease to have any, as soon as the mind laid by that
  • abstract idea, and ceased actually to think on it. But when a name
  • is once annexed to it, wherein the parts of that complex idea have
  • a settled and permanent union, then is the essence, as it were,
  • established, and the species looked on as complete. For to what purpose
  • should the memory charge itself with such compositions, unless it were
  • by abstraction to make them general? And to what purpose make them
  • general, unless it were that they might have general names for the
  • convenience of discourse and communication? Thus we see, that killing a
  • man with a sword or a hatchet are looked on as no distinct species of
  • action; but if the point of the sword first enter the body, it passes
  • for a distinct species, where it has a distinct name, as in England, in
  • whose language it is called STABBING: but in another country, where it
  • has not happened to be specified under a peculiar name, it passes not
  • for a distinct species. But in the species of corporeal substances,
  • though it be the mind that makes the nominal essence, yet, since those
  • ideas which are combined in it are supposed to have an union in nature
  • whether the mind joins them or not, therefore those are looked on as
  • distinct species, without any operation of the mind, either abstracting,
  • or giving a name to that complex idea.
  • 12. For the Originals of our mixed Modes, we look no further than the
  • Mind; which also shows them to be the Workmanship of the Understanding.
  • Conformable also to what has been said concerning the essences of the
  • species of mixed modes, that they are the creatures of the understanding
  • rather than the works of nature; conformable, I say, to this, we find
  • that their names lead our thoughts to the mind, and no further. When we
  • speak of JUSTICE, or GRATITUDE, we frame to ourselves no imagination of
  • anything existing, which we would conceive; but our thoughts terminate
  • in the abstract ideas of those virtues, and look not further; as they do
  • when we speak of a HORSE, or IRON, whose specific ideas we consider not
  • as barely in the mind, but as in things themselves, which afford the
  • original patterns of those ideas. But in mixed modes, at least the most
  • considerable parts of them, which are moral beings, we consider the
  • original patterns as being in the mind, and to those we refer for the
  • distinguishing of particular beings under names. And hence I think it
  • is that these essences of the species of mixed modes are by a more
  • particular name called NOTIONS; as, by a peculiar right, appertaining to
  • the understanding.
  • 13. Their being made by the Understanding without Patterns, shows the
  • Reason why they are so compounded.
  • Hence, likewise, we may learn why the complex ideas of mixed modes
  • are commonly more compounded and decompounded than those of natural
  • substances. Because they being the workmanship of the understanding,
  • pursuing only its own ends, and the conveniency of expressing in short
  • those ideas it would make known to another, it does with great liberty
  • unite often into one abstract idea things that, in their nature, have
  • no coherence; and so under one term bundle together a great variety of
  • compounded and decompounded ideas. Thus the name of PROCESSION: what a
  • great mixture of independent ideas of persons, habits, tapers, orders,
  • motions, sounds, does it contain in that complex one, which the mind of
  • man has arbitrarily put together, to express by that one name? Whereas
  • the complex ideas of the sorts of substances are usually made up of only
  • a small number of simple ones; and in the species of animals, these two,
  • viz. shape and voice, commonly make the whole nominal essence.
  • 14. Names of mixed Modes stand alway for their real Essences, which are
  • the workmanship of our minds.
  • Another thing we may observe from what has been said is, That the
  • names of mixed modes always signify (when they have any determined
  • signification) the REAL essences of their species. For, these abstract
  • ideas being the workmanship of the mind, and not referred to the real
  • existence of things, there is no supposition of anything more signified
  • by that name, but barely that complex idea the mind itself has formed;
  • which is all it would have expressed by it; and is that on which all the
  • properties of the species depend, and from which alone they all flow:
  • and so in these the real and nominal essence is the same; which, of what
  • concernment it is to the certain knowledge of general truth, we shall
  • see hereafter.
  • 15. Why their Names are usually got before their Ideas.
  • This also may show us the reason why for the most part the names of
  • mixed modes are got before the ideas they stand for are perfectly known.
  • Because there being no species of these ordinarily taken notice of but
  • what have names, and those species, or rather their essences, being
  • abstract complex ideas, made arbitrarily by the mind, it is convenient,
  • if not necessary, to know the names, before one endeavour to frame
  • these complex ideas: unless a man will fill his head with a company
  • of abstract complex ideas, which, others having no names for, he has
  • nothing to do with, but to lay by and forget again. I confess that, in
  • the beginning of languages, it was necessary to have the idea before one
  • gave it the name: and so it is still, where, making a new complex idea,
  • one also, by giving it a new name, makes a new word. But this concerns
  • not languages made, which have generally pretty well provided for ideas
  • which men have frequent occasion to have and communicate; and in such, I
  • ask whether it be not the ordinary method, that children learn the names
  • of mixed modes before they have their ideas? What one of a thousand ever
  • frames the abstract ideas of GLORY and AMBITION, before he has heard the
  • names of them? In simple ideas and substances I grant it is otherwise;
  • which, being such ideas as have a real existence and union in nature,
  • the ideas and names are got one before the other, as it happens.
  • 16. Reason of my being so large on this Subject.
  • What has been said here of MIXED MODES is, with very little difference,
  • applicable also to RELATIONS; which, since every man himself may
  • observe, I may spare myself the pains to enlarge on: especially, since
  • what I have here said concerning Words in this third Book, will possibly
  • be thought by some to this be much more than what so slight a subject
  • required. I allow it might be brought into a narrower compass; but I was
  • willing to stay my reader on an argument that appears to me new and a
  • little out of the way, (I am sure it is one I thought not of when I
  • began to write,) that, by searching it to the bottom, and turning it on
  • every side, some part or other might meet with every one's thoughts, and
  • give occasion to the most averse or negligent to reflect on a general
  • miscarriage, which, though of great consequence, is little taken notice
  • of. When it is considered what a pudder is made about ESSENCES, and how
  • much all sorts of knowledge, discourse, and conversation are pestered
  • and disordered by the careless and confused use and application of
  • words, it will perhaps be thought worth while thoroughly to lay it open.
  • And I shall be pardoned if I have dwelt long on an argument which I
  • think, therefore, needs to be inculcated, because the faults men are
  • usually guilty of in this kind, are not only the greatest hindrances of
  • true knowledge, but are so well thought of as to pass for it. Men would
  • often see what a small pittance of reason and truth, or possibly none at
  • all, is mixed with those huffing opinions they are swelled with; if they
  • would but look beyond fashionable sounds, and observe what IDEAS are or
  • are not comprehended under those words with which they are so armed at
  • all points, and with which they so confidently lay about them. I shall
  • imagine I have done some service to truth, peace, and learning, if, by
  • any enlargement on this subject, I can make men reflect on their own use
  • of language; and give them reason to suspect, that, since it is frequent
  • for others, it may also be possible for them, to have sometimes very
  • good and approved words in their mouths and writings, with very
  • uncertain, little, or no signification. And therefore it is not
  • unreasonable for them to be wary herein themselves, and not to be
  • unwilling to have them examined by others. With this design, therefore,
  • I shall go on with what I have further to say concerning this matter.
  • CHAPTER VI.
  • OF THE NAMES OF SUBSTANCES.
  • 1. The common Names of Substances stand for Sorts.
  • The common names of substances, as well as other general terms, stand
  • for SORTS: which is nothing else but the being made signs of such
  • complex ideas wherein several particular substances do or might agree,
  • by virtue of which they are capable of being comprehended in one common
  • conception, and signified by one name. I say do or might agree: for
  • though there be but one sun existing in the world, yet the idea of it
  • being abstracted, so that more substances (if there were several) might
  • each agree in it, it is as much a sort as if there were as many suns as
  • there are stars. They want not their reasons who think there are, and
  • that each fixed star would answer the idea the name sun stands for, to
  • one who was placed in a due distance: which, by the way, may show us how
  • much the sorts, or, if you please, GENERA and SPECIES of things (for
  • those Latin terms signify to me no more than the English word sort)
  • depend on such collections of ideas as men have made, and not on the
  • real nature of things; since it is not impossible but that, in propriety
  • of speech, that might be a sun to one which is a star to another.
  • 2. The Essence of each Sort of substance is our abstract Idea to which
  • the name is annexed.
  • The measure and boundary of each sort or species, whereby it is
  • constituted that particular sort, and distinguished from others, is that
  • we call its ESSENCE, which is nothing but that abstract idea to which
  • the name is annexed; so that everything contained in that idea is
  • essential to that sort. This, though it be all the essence of natural
  • substances that WE know, or by which we distinguish them into sorts, yet
  • I call it by a peculiar name, the NOMINAL ESSENCE, to distinguish it
  • from the real constitution of substances, upon which depends this
  • nominal essence, and all the properties of that sort; which, therefore,
  • as has been said, may be called the REAL ESSENCE: v.g. the nominal
  • essence of gold is that complex idea the word gold stands for, let
  • it be, for instance, a body yellow, of a certain weight, malleable,
  • fusible, and fixed. But the real essence is the constitution of the
  • insensible parts of that body, on which those qualities and all the
  • other properties of gold depend. How far these two are different, though
  • they are both called essence, is obvious at first sight to discover.
  • 3. The nominal and real Essence different.
  • For, though perhaps voluntary motion, with sense and reason, joined to a
  • body of a certain shape, be the complex idea to which I and others annex
  • the name MAN, and so be the nominal essence of the species so called:
  • yet nobody will say that complex idea is the real essence and source of
  • all those operations which are to be found in any individual of that
  • sort. The foundation of all those qualities which are the ingredients
  • of our complex idea, is something quite different: and had we such a
  • knowledge of that constitution of man; from which his faculties of
  • moving, sensation, and reasoning, and other powers flow, and on which
  • his so regular shape depends, as it is possible angels have, and it is
  • certain his Maker has, we should have a quite other idea of his essence
  • than what now is contained in our definition of that species, be it what
  • it will: and our idea of any individual man would be as far different
  • from what it is now, as is his who knows all the springs and wheels and
  • other contrivances within of the famous clock at Strasburg, from that
  • which a gazing countryman has of it, who barely sees the motion of the
  • hand, and hears the clock strike, and observes only some of the outward
  • appearances.
  • 4. Nothing essential to Individuals.
  • That ESSENCE, in the ordinary use of the word, relates to sorts, and
  • that it is considered in particular beings no further than as they are
  • ranked into sorts, appears from hence: that, take but away the abstract
  • ideas by which we sort individuals, and rank them under common names,
  • and then the thought of anything essential to any of them instantly
  • vanishes: we have no notion of the one without the other, which plainly
  • shows their relation. It is necessary for me to be as I am; God and
  • nature has made me so: but there is nothing I have is essential to me.
  • An accident or disease may very much alter my colour or shape; a fever
  • or fall may take away my reason or memory, or both; and an apoplexy
  • leave neither sense, nor understanding, no, nor life. Other creatures of
  • my shape may be made with more and better, or fewer and worse faculties
  • than I have; and others may have reason and sense in a shape and body
  • very different from mine. None of these are essential to the one or the
  • other, or to any individual whatever, till the mind refers it to some
  • sort or species of things; and then presently, according to the abstract
  • idea of that sort, something is found essential. Let any one examine his
  • own thoughts, and he will find that as soon as he supposes or speaks
  • of essential, the consideration of some species, or the complex idea
  • signified by some general name, comes into his mind; and it is in
  • reference to that that this or that quality is said to be essential.
  • So that if it be asked, whether it be essential to me or any other
  • particular corporeal being, to have reason? I say, no; no more than it
  • is essential to this white thing I write on to have words in it. But if
  • that particular being be to be counted of the sort MAN, and to have the
  • name MAN given it, then reason is essential to it; supposing reason
  • to be a part of the complex idea the name man stands for: as it is
  • essential to this thing I write on to contain words, if I will give it
  • the name TREATISE, and rank it under that species. So that essential and
  • not essential relate only to our abstract ideas, and the names annexed
  • to them; which amounts to no more than this, That whatever particular
  • thing has not in it those qualities which are contained in the abstract
  • idea which any general term stands for, cannot be ranked under that
  • species, nor be called by that name; since that abstract idea is the
  • very essence of that species.
  • 5. The only essences perceived by us in individual substances are those
  • qualities which entitle them to receive their names.
  • Thus, if the idea of BODY with some people be bare extension or space,
  • then solidity is not essential to body: if others make the idea to which
  • they give the name BODY to be solidity and extension, then solidity is
  • essential to body. That therefore, and that alone, is considered as
  • essential, which makes a part of the complex idea the name of a sort
  • stands for; without which no particular thing can be reckoned of that
  • sort, nor be entitled to that name. Should there be found a parcel of
  • matter that had all the other qualities that are in iron, but wanted
  • obedience to the loadstone, and would neither be drawn by it nor receive
  • direction from it, would any one question whether it wanted anything
  • essential? It would be absurd to ask, Whether a thing really existing
  • wanted anything essential to it. Or could it be demanded, Whether this
  • made an essential or specific difference or no, since WE have no other
  • measure of essential or specific but our abstract ideas? And to talk of
  • specific differences in NATURE, without reference to general ideas in
  • names, is to talk unintelligibly. For I would ask any one, What is
  • sufficient to make an essential difference in nature between any two
  • particular beings, without any regard had to some abstract idea, which
  • is looked upon as the essence and standard of a species? All such
  • patterns and standards being quite laid aside, particular beings,
  • considered barely in themselves, will be found to have all their
  • qualities equally essential; and everything in each individual will be
  • essential to it; or, which is more, nothing at all. For, though it may
  • be reasonable to ask, Whether obeying the magnet be essential to iron?
  • yet I think it is very improper and insignificant to ask, whether it be
  • essential to the particular parcel of matter I cut my pen with; without
  • considering it under the name IRON, or as being of a certain species.
  • And if, as has been said, our abstract ideas, which have names annexed
  • to them, are the boundaries of species, nothing can be essential but
  • what is contained in those ideas.
  • 6. Even the real essences of individual substances imply potential
  • sorts.
  • It is true, I have often mentioned a REAL ESSENCE, distinct in
  • substances from those abstract ideas of them, which I call their
  • nominal essence. By this real essence I mean, that real constitution
  • of anything, which is the foundation of all those properties that are
  • combined in, and are constantly found to co-exist with the nominal
  • essence; that particular constitution which everything has within
  • itself, without any relation to anything without it. But essence, even
  • in this sense, RELATES TO A SORT, AND SUPPOSES A SPECIES. For, being
  • that real constitution on which the properties depend, it necessarily
  • supposes a sort of things, properties belonging only to species, and not
  • to individuals: v. g. supposing the nominal essence of gold to be a body
  • of such a peculiar colour and weight, with malleability and fusibility,
  • the real essence is that constitution of the parts of matter on which
  • these qualities and their union depend; and is also the foundation of
  • its solubility in aqua regia and other properties, accompanying that
  • complex idea. Here are essences and properties, but all upon supposition
  • of a sort or general abstract idea, which is considered as immutable;
  • but there is no individual parcel of matter to which any of these
  • qualities are so annexed as to be essential to it or inseparable from
  • it. That which is essential belongs to it as a condition whereby it
  • is of this or that sort: but take away the consideration of its being
  • ranked under the name of some abstract idea, and then there is nothing
  • necessary to it, nothing inseparable from it. Indeed, as to the real
  • essences of substances, we only suppose their being, without precisely
  • knowing what they are; but that which annexes them still to the species
  • is the nominal essence, of which they are the supposed foundation and
  • cause.
  • 7. The nominal Essence bounds the Species to us.
  • The next thing to be considered is, by which of those essences it is
  • that substances are determined into sorts or species; and that, it is
  • evident, is by the nominal essence. For it is that alone that the name,
  • which is the mark of the sort, signifies. It is impossible, therefore,
  • that anything should determine the sorts of things, which WE rank under
  • general names, but that idea which that name is designed as a mark for;
  • which is that, as has been shown, which we call nominal essence. Why
  • do we say this is a horse, and that a mule; this is an animal, that an
  • herb? How comes any particular thing to be of this or that sort, but
  • because it has that nominal essence; or, which is all one, agrees to
  • that abstract idea, that name is annexed to? And I desire any one but
  • to reflect on his own thoughts, when he hears or speaks any of those or
  • other names of substances, to know what sort of essences they stand for.
  • 8. The nature of Species as formed by us.
  • And that the species of things to us are nothing but the ranking them
  • under distinct names, according to the complex ideas in US, and not
  • according to precise, distinct, real essences in THEM, is plain from
  • hence:--That we find many of the individuals that are ranked into
  • one sort, called by one common name, and so received as being of one
  • species, have yet qualities, depending on their real constitutions,
  • as far different one from another as from others from which they are
  • accounted to differ specifically. This, as it is easy to be observed
  • by all who have to do with natural bodies, so chemists especially are
  • often, by sad experience, convinced of it, when they, sometimes in vain,
  • seek for the same qualities in one parcel of sulphur, antimony, or
  • vitriol, which they have found in others. For, though they are bodies of
  • the same species, having the same nominal essence, under the same name,
  • yet do they often, upon severe ways of examination, betray qualities so
  • different one from another, as to frustrate the expectation and labour
  • of very wary chemists. But if things were distinguished into species,
  • according to their real essences, it would be as impossible to find
  • different properties in any two individual substances of the same
  • species, as it is to find different properties in two circles, or
  • two equilateral triangles. That is properly the essence to US, which
  • determines every particular to this or that CLASSIS; or, which is the
  • same thing, to this or that general name: and what can that be else, but
  • that abstract idea to which that name is annexed; and so has, in truth,
  • a reference, not so much to the being of particular things, as to their
  • general denominations?
  • 9. Not the real Essence, or texture of parts, which we know not.
  • Nor indeed can we rank and sort things, and consequently (which is the
  • end of sorting) denominate them, by their real essences; because we know
  • them not. Our faculties carry us no further towards the knowledge and
  • distinction of substances, than a collection of THOSE SENSIBLE IDEAS
  • WHICH WE OBSERVE IN THEM; which, however made with the greatest
  • diligence and exactness we are capable of, yet is more remote from the
  • true internal constitution from which those qualities flow, than, as I
  • said, a countryman's idea is from the inward contrivance of that famous
  • clock at Strasburg, whereof he only sees the outward figure and motions.
  • There is not so contemptible a plant or animal, that does not confound
  • the most enlarged understanding. Though the familiar use of things about
  • us take off our wonder, yet it cures not our ignorance. When we come
  • to examine the stones we tread on, or the iron we daily handle, we
  • presently find we know not their make; and can give no reason of
  • the different qualities we find in them. It is evident the internal
  • constitution, whereon their properties depend, is unknown to us: for to
  • go no further than the grossest and most obvious we can imagine amongst
  • them, What is that texture of parts, that real essence, that makes lead
  • and antimony fusible, wood and stones not? What makes lead and iron
  • malleable, antimony and stones not? And yet how infinitely these come
  • short of the fine contrivances and inconceivable real essences of
  • plants or animals, every one knows. The workmanship of the all-wise
  • and powerful God in the great fabric of the universe, and every part
  • thereof, further exceeds the capacity and comprehension of the most
  • inquisitive and intelligent man, than the best contrivance of the most
  • ingenious man doth the conceptions of the most ignorant of rational
  • creatures. Therefore we in vain pretend to range things into sorts, and
  • dispose them into certain classes under names, by their real essences,
  • that are so far from our discovery or comprehension. A blind man may as
  • soon sort things by their colours, and he that has lost his smell as
  • well distinguish a lily and a rose by their odours, as by those internal
  • constitutions which he knows not. He that thinks he can distinguish
  • sheep and goats by their real essences, that are unknown to him, may
  • be pleased to try his skill in those species called CASSIOWARY and
  • QUERECHINCHIO; and by their internal real essences determine the
  • boundaries of those species, without knowing the complex idea of
  • sensible qualities that each of those names stand for, in the countries
  • where those animals are to be found.
  • 10. Not the substantial Form, which know Not.
  • Those, therefore, who have been taught that the several species of
  • substances had their distinct internal SUBSTANTIAL FORMS, and that it
  • was those FORMS which made the distinction of substances into their true
  • species and genera, were led yet further out of the way by having their
  • minds set upon fruitless inquiries after 'substantial forms'; wholly
  • unintelligible, and whereof we have scarce so much as any obscure or
  • confused conception in general.
  • 11. That the Nominal Essence is that only whereby we distinguish Species
  • of Substances, further evident, from our ideas of finite Spirits and of
  • God.
  • That our ranking and distinguishing natural substances into species
  • consists in the nominal essences the mind makes, and not in the real
  • essences to be found in the things themselves, is further evident from
  • our ideas of spirits. For the mind getting, only by reflecting on its
  • own operations, those simple ideas which it attributes to spirits, it
  • hath or can have no other notion of spirit but by attributing all those
  • operations it finds in itself to a sort of beings; without consideration
  • of matter. And even the most advanced notion we have of GOD is but
  • attributing the same simple ideas which we have got from reflection on
  • what we find in ourselves, and which we conceive to have more perfection
  • in them than would be in their absence; attributing, I say, those simple
  • ideas to Him in an unlimited degree. Thus, having got from reflecting on
  • ourselves the idea of existence, knowledge, power and pleasure--each of
  • which we find it better to have than to want; and the more we have of
  • each the better--joining all these together, with infinity to each of
  • them, we have the complex idea of an eternal, omniscient, omnipotent,
  • infinitely wise and happy being. And though we are told that there are
  • different species of angels; yet we know not how to frame distinct
  • specific ideas of them: not out of any conceit that the existence of
  • more species than one of spirits is impossible; but because having no
  • more simple ideas (nor being able to frame more) applicable to such
  • beings, but only those few taken from ourselves, and from the actions of
  • our own minds in thinking, and being delighted, and moving several parts
  • of our bodies; we can no otherwise distinguish in our conceptions the
  • several species of spirits, one from another, but by attributing those
  • operations and powers we find in ourselves to them in a higher or lower
  • degree; and so have no very distinct specific ideas of spirits, except
  • only of GOD, to whom we attribute both duration and all those other
  • ideas with infinity; to the other spirits, with limitation: nor, as
  • I humbly conceive, do we, between GOD and them in our ideas, put any
  • difference, by any number of simple ideas which we have of one and not
  • of the other, but only that of infinity. All the particular ideas of
  • existence, knowledge, will, power, and motion, &c., being ideas derived
  • from the operations of our minds, we attribute all of them to all sorts
  • of spirits, with the difference only of degrees; to the utmost we can
  • imagine, even infinity, when we would frame as well as we can an idea of
  • the First Being; who yet, it is certain, is infinitely more remote, in
  • the real excellency of his nature, from the highest and perfectest of
  • all created beings, than the greatest man, nay, purest seraph, is from
  • the most contemptible part of matter; and consequently must infinitely
  • exceed what our narrow understandings can conceive of Him.
  • 12. Of finite Spirits there are probably numberless Species in a
  • continuous series of gradations.
  • It is not impossible to conceive, nor repugnant to reason, that there
  • may be many species of spirits, as much separated and diversified one
  • from another by distinct properties whereof we have no ideas, as the
  • species of sensible things are distinguished one from another by
  • qualities which we know and observe in them. That there should be more
  • species of intelligent creatures above us, than there are of sensible
  • and material below us, is probable to me from hence: that in all the
  • visible corporeal world, we see no chasms or gaps. All quite down from
  • us the descent is by easy steps, and a continued series of things, that
  • in each remove differ very little one from the other. There are fishes
  • that have wings, and are not strangers to the airy region: and there are
  • some birds that are inhabitants of the water, whose blood is cold as
  • fishes, and their flesh so like in taste that the scrupulous are allowed
  • them on fish-days. There are animals so near of kin both to birds and
  • beasts that they are in the middle between both: amphibious animals link
  • the terrestrial and aquatic together; seals live at land and sea, and
  • porpoises have the warm blood and entrails of a hog; not to mention what
  • is confidently reported of mermaids, or sea-men. There are some brutes
  • that seem to have as much knowledge and reason as some that are called
  • men: and the animal and vegetable kingdoms are so nearly joined, that,
  • if you will take the lowest of one and the highest of the other, there
  • will scarce be perceived any great difference between them: and so on,
  • till we come to the lowest and the most inorganical parts of matter, we
  • shall find everywhere that the several species are linked together,
  • and differ but in almost insensible degrees. And when we consider the
  • infinite power and wisdom of the Maker, we have reason to think that it
  • is suitable to the magnificent harmony of the universe, and the great
  • design and infinite goodness of the Architect, that the species of
  • creatures should also, by gentle degrees, ascend upward from us toward
  • his infinite perfection, as we see they gradually descend from us
  • downwards: which if it be probable, we have reason then to be persuaded
  • that there are far more species of creatures above us than there are
  • beneath; we being, in degrees of perfection, much more remote from the
  • infinite being of God than we are from the lowest state of being, and
  • that which approaches nearest to nothing. And yet of all those distinct
  • species, for the reasons abovesaid, we have no clear distinct ideas.
  • 13. The Nominal Essence that of the Species, as conceived by us, proved
  • from Water and Ice.
  • But to return to the species of corporeal substances. If I should ask
  • any one whether ice and water were two distinct species of things, I
  • doubt not but I should be answered in the affirmative: and it cannot be
  • denied but he that says they are two distinct species is in the right.
  • But if an Englishman bred in Jamaica, who perhaps had never seen nor
  • heard of ice, coming into England in the winter, find the water he put
  • in his basin at night in a great part frozen in the morning, and, not
  • knowing any peculiar name it had, should call it hardened water; I ask
  • whether this would be a new species to him, different from water? And I
  • think it would be answered here, It would not be to him a new species,
  • no more than congealed jelly, when it is cold, is a distinct species
  • from the same jelly fluid and warm; or than liquid gold in the furnace
  • is a distinct species from hard gold in the hands of a workman. And
  • if this be so, it is plain that OUR DISTINCT SPECIES are NOTHING BUT
  • DISTINCT COMPLEX IDEAS, WITH DISTINCT NAMES ANNEXED TO THEM. It is true
  • every substance that exists has its peculiar constitution, whereon
  • depend those sensible qualities and powers we observe in it; but the
  • ranking of things into species (which is nothing but sorting them under
  • several titles) is done by us according to the ideas that WE have of
  • them: which, though sufficient to distinguish them by names, so that we
  • may be able to discourse of them when we have them not present
  • before us; yet if we suppose it to be done by their real internal
  • constitutions, and that things existing are distinguished by nature into
  • species, by real essences, according as we distinguish them into species
  • by names, we shall be liable to great mistakes.
  • 14. Difficulties in the supposition of a certain number of real Essences
  • To distinguish substantial beings into species, according to the usual
  • supposition, that there are certain precise essences or forms of things,
  • whereby all the individuals existing are, by nature distinguished into
  • species, these things are necessary:--
  • 15. A crude supposition.
  • First, To be assured that nature, in the production of things, always
  • designs them to partake of certain regulated established essences, which
  • are to be the models of all things to be produced. This, in that crude
  • sense it is usually proposed, would need some better explication, before
  • it can fully be assented to.
  • 16. Monstrous births.
  • Secondly, It would be necessary to know whether nature always attains
  • that essence it designs in the production of things. The irregular and
  • monstrous births, that in divers sorts of animals have been observed,
  • will always give us reason to doubt of one or both of these.
  • 17. Are monsters really a distinct species?
  • Thirdly, It ought to be determined whether those we call monsters be
  • really a distinct species, according to the scholastic notion of the
  • word species; since it is certain that everything that exists has its
  • particular constitution. And yet we find that some of these monstrous
  • productions have few or none of those qualities which are supposed to
  • result from, and accompany, the essence of that species from whence they
  • derive their originals, and to which, by their descent, they seem to
  • belong.
  • 18. Men can have no ideas of Real Essences.
  • Fourthly, The real essences of those things which we distinguish into
  • species, and as so distinguished we name, ought to be known; i.e. we
  • ought to have ideas of them. But since we are ignorant in these four
  • points, the supposed real essences of things stand US not in stead for
  • the distinguishing substances into species.
  • 19. Our Nominal Essences of Substances not perfect collections of the
  • properties that flow from the Real Essence.
  • Fifthly, The only imaginable help in this case would be, that, having
  • framed perfect complex ideas of the properties of things flowing from
  • their different real essences, we should thereby distinguish them into
  • species. But neither can this be done. For, being ignorant of the real
  • essence itself, it is impossible to know all those properties that flow
  • from it, and are so annexed to it, that any one of them being away, we
  • may certainly conclude that that essence is not there, and so the thing
  • is not of that species. We can never know what is the precise number of
  • properties depending on the real essence of gold, any one of which
  • failing, the real essence of gold, and consequently gold, would not be
  • there, unless we knew the real essence of gold itself, and by that
  • determined that species. By the word GOLD here, I must be understood to
  • design a particular piece of matter; v. g. the last guinea that was
  • coined. For, if it should stand here, in its ordinary signification, for
  • that complex idea which I or any one else calls gold, i. e. for the
  • nominal essence of gold, it would be jargon. So hard is it to show the
  • various meaning and imperfection of words, when we have nothing else but
  • words to do it by.
  • 20. Hence names independent of Real Essence.
  • By all which it is clear, that our distinguishing substances into
  • species by names, is not at all founded on their real essences; nor can
  • we pretend to range and determine them exactly into species, according
  • to internal essential differences.
  • 21. But stand for such collections of simple ideas as we have made the
  • Name stand for.
  • But since, as has been remarked, we have need of GENERAL words, though
  • we know not the real essences of things; all we can do is, to collect
  • such a number of simple ideas as, by examination, we find to be united
  • together in things existing, and thereof to make one complex idea.
  • Which, though it be not the real essence of any substance that exists,
  • is yet the specific essence to which our name belongs, and is
  • convertible with it; by which we may at least try the truth of these
  • nominal essences. For example: there be that say that the essence of
  • body is EXTENSION; if it be so, we can never mistake in putting the
  • essence of anything for the thing itself. Let us then in discourse put
  • extension for body, and when we would say that body moves, let us say
  • that extension moves, and see how ill it will look. He that should say
  • that one extension by impulse moves another extension, would, by the
  • bare expression, sufficiently show the absurdity of such a notion. The
  • essence of anything in respect of us, is the whole complex idea
  • comprehended and marked by that name; and in substances, besides the
  • several distinct simple ideas that make them up, the confused one of
  • substance, or of an unknown support and cause of their union, is always
  • a part: and therefore the essence of body is not bare extension, but an
  • extended solid thing; and so to say, an extended solid thing moves, or
  • impels another, is all one, and as intelligible, as to say, BODY moves
  • or impels. Likewise, to say that a rational animal is capable of
  • conversation, is all one as to say a man; but no one will say that
  • rationality is capable of conversation, because it makes not the whole
  • essence to which we give the name man.
  • 22. Our Abstract Ideas are to us the Measures of the Species we make in
  • instance in that of Man.
  • There are creatures in the world that have shapes like ours, but are
  • hairy, and want language and reason. There are naturals amongst us that
  • have perfectly our shape, but want reason, and some of them language
  • too. There are creatures, as it is said, (sit fides penes authorem, but
  • there appears no contradiction that there should be such,) that, with
  • language and reason and a shape in other things agreeing with ours, have
  • hairy tails; others where the males have no beards, and others where
  • the females have. If it be asked whether these be all men or no, all
  • of human species? it is plain, the question refers only to the nominal
  • essence: for those of them to whom the definition of the word man, or
  • the complex idea signified by that name, agrees, are men, and the other
  • not. But if the inquiry be made concerning the supposed real essence;
  • and whether the internal constitution and frame of these several
  • creatures be specifically different, it is wholly impossible for us
  • to answer, no part of that going into our specific idea: only we have
  • reason to think, that where the faculties or outward frame so much
  • differs, the internal constitution is not exactly the same. But what
  • difference in the real internal constitution makes a specific difference
  • it is in vain to inquire; whilst our measures of species be, as they
  • are, only our abstract ideas, which we know; and not that internal
  • constitution, which makes no part of them. Shall the difference of hair
  • only on the skin be a mark of a different internal specific constitution
  • between a changeling and a drill, when they agree in shape, and want of
  • reason and speech? And shall not the want of reason and speech be a sign
  • to us of different real constitutions and species between a changeling
  • and a reasonable man? And so of the rest, if we pretend that distinction
  • of species or sorts is fixedly established by the real frame and secret
  • constitutions of things.
  • 23. Species in Animals not distinguished by Generation.
  • Nor let any one say, that the power of propagation in animals by the
  • mixture of male and female, and in plants by seeds, keeps the supposed
  • real species distinct and entire, For, granting this to be true, it
  • would help us in the distinction of the species of things no further
  • than the tribes of animals and vegetables. What must we do for the rest?
  • But in those too it is not sufficient: for if history lie not, women
  • have conceived by drills; and what real species, by that measure, such a
  • production will be in nature will be a new question: and we have reason
  • to think this is not impossible, since mules and jumarts, the one from
  • the mixture of an ass and a mare, the other from the mixture of a bull
  • and a mare, are so frequent in the world. I once saw a creature that was
  • the issue of a cat and a rat, and had the plain marks of both about it;
  • wherein nature appeared to have followed the pattern of neither sort
  • alone, but to have jumbled them both together. To which he that shall
  • add the monstrous productions that are so frequently to be met with in
  • nature, will find it hard, even in the race of animals, to determine by
  • the pedigree of what species every animal's issue is; and be at a
  • loss about the real essence, which he thinks certainly conveyed by
  • generation, and has alone a right to the specific name. But further,
  • if the species of animals and plants are to be distinguished only by
  • propagation, must I go to the Indies to see the sire and dam of the one,
  • and the plant from which the seed was gathered that produced the other,
  • to know whether this be a tiger or that tea?
  • 24. Not by substantial Forms.
  • Upon the whole matter, it is evident that it is their own collections of
  • sensible qualities that men make the essences of THEIR several sorts of
  • substances; and that their real internal structures are not considered
  • by the greatest part of men in the sorting them. Much less were any
  • SUBSTANTIAL FORMS ever thought on by any but those who have in this one
  • part of the world learned the language of the schools: and yet those
  • ignorant men, who pretend not any insight into the real essences, nor
  • trouble themselves about substantial forms, but are content with knowing
  • things one from another by their sensible qualities, are often better
  • acquainted with their differences; can more nicely distinguish them
  • from their uses; and better know what they expect from each, than those
  • learned quick-sighted men, who look so deep into them, and talk so
  • confidently of something more hidden and essential.
  • 25. The specific Essences that are common made by Men.
  • But supposing that the REAL essences of substances were discoverable by
  • those that would severely apply themselves to that inquiry, yet we could
  • not reasonably think that the ranking of things under general names was
  • regulated by those internal real constitutions, or anything else but
  • their OBVIOUS appearances; since languages, in all countries, have
  • been established long before sciences. So that they have not been
  • philosophers or logicians, or such who have troubled themselves about
  • forms and essences, that have made the general names that are in use
  • amongst the several nations of men: but those more or less comprehensive
  • terms have, for the most part, in all languages, received their birth
  • and signification from ignorant and illiterate people, who sorted
  • and denominated things by those sensible qualities they found in them;
  • thereby to signify them, when absent, to others, whether they had an
  • occasion to mention a sort or a particular thing.
  • 26. Therefore very various and uncertain in the ideas of different men.
  • Since then it is evident that we sort and name substances by their
  • nominal and not by their real essences, the next thing to be considered
  • is how, and by whom these essences come to be made. As to the latter, it
  • is evident they are made by the mind, and not by nature: for were they
  • Nature's workmanship, they could not be so various and different in
  • several men as experience tells us they are. For if we will examine it,
  • we shall not find the nominal essence of any one species of substances
  • in all men the same: no, not of that which of all others we are the most
  • intimately acquainted with. It could not possibly be that the abstract
  • idea to which the name MAN is given should be different in several men,
  • if it were of Nature's making; and that to one it should be animal
  • rationale, and to another, animal implume bipes latis unguibus. He that
  • annexes the name man to a complex idea, made up of sense and spontaneous
  • motion, joined to a body of such a shape, has thereby one essence of the
  • species man; and he that, upon further examination, adds rationality,
  • has another essence of the species he calls man: by which means the same
  • individual will be a true man to the one which is not so to the other.
  • I think there is scarce any one will allow this upright figure, so well
  • known, to be the essential difference of the species man; and yet how
  • far men determine of the sorts of animals rather by their shape than
  • descent, is very visible; since it has been more than once debated,
  • whether several human foetuses should be preserved or received to
  • baptism or no, only because of the difference of their outward
  • configuration from the ordinary make of children, without knowing
  • whether they were not as capable of reason as infants cast in another
  • mould: some whereof, though of an approved shape, are never capable of
  • as much appearance of reason all their lives as is to be found in an
  • ape, or an elephant, and never give any signs of being acted by a
  • rational soul. Whereby it is evident, that the outward figure, which
  • only was found wanting, and not the faculty of reason, which nobody
  • could know would be wanting in its due season, was made essential to the
  • human species. The learned divine and lawyer must, on such occasions,
  • renounce his sacred definition of animal rationale, and substitute some
  • other essence of the human species. [Monsieur Menage furnishes us with
  • an example worth the taking notice of on this occasion: 'When the abbot
  • of Saint Martin,' says he, 'was born, he had so little of the figure of
  • a man, that it bespake him rather a monster. It was for some time under
  • deliberation, whether he should be baptized or no. However, he was
  • baptized, and declared a man provisionally [till time should show what
  • he would prove]. Nature had moulded him so untowardly, that he was
  • called all his life the Abbot Malotru; i.e. ill-shaped. He was of Caen.
  • (Menagiana, 278, 430.) This child, we see, was very near being excluded
  • out of the species of man, barely by his shape. He escaped very narrowly
  • as he was; and it is certain, a figure a little more oddly turned had
  • cast him, and he had been executed, as a thing not to be allowed to pass
  • for a man. And yet there can be no reason given why, if the lineaments
  • of his face had been a little altered, a rational soul could not have
  • been lodged in him; why a visage somewhat longer, or a nose flatter, or
  • a wider mouth, could not have consisted, as well as the rest of his ill
  • figure, with such a soul, such parts, as made him, disfigured as he was,
  • capable to be a dignitary in the church.]
  • 27. Nominal Essences of particular substances are undetermined by
  • nature, and therefore various as men vary.
  • Wherein, then, would I gladly know, consist the precise and unmovable
  • boundaries of that species? It is plain, if we examine, there is no
  • such thing made by Nature, and established by her amongst men. The real
  • essence of that or any other sort of substances, it is evident, we know
  • not; and therefore are so undetermined in our nominal essences, which we
  • make ourselves, that, if several men were to be asked concerning some
  • oddly-shaped foetus, as soon as born, whether it were a man or no, it
  • is past doubt one should meet with different answers. Which could not
  • happen, if the nominal essences, whereby we limit and distinguish the
  • species of substances, were not made by man with some liberty; but
  • were exactly copied from precise boundaries set by nature, whereby it
  • distinguished all substances into certain species. Who would undertake
  • to resolve what species that monster was of which is mentioned by
  • Licetus (lib. i. c. 3), with a man's head and hog's body? Or those other
  • which to the bodies of men had the heads of beasts, as dogs, horses, &c.
  • If any of these creatures had lived, and could have spoke, it would have
  • increased the difficulty. Had the upper part to the middle been of human
  • shape, and all below swine, had it been murder to destroy it? Or must
  • the bishop have been consulted, whether it were man enough to be
  • admitted to the font or no? As I have been told it happened in France
  • some years since, in somewhat a like case. So uncertain are the
  • boundaries of species of animals to us, who have no other measures
  • than the complex ideas of our own collecting: and so far are we from
  • certainly knowing what a MAN is; though perhaps it will be judged great
  • ignorance to make any doubt about it. And yet I think I may say, that
  • the certain boundaries of that species are so far from being determined,
  • and the precise number of simple ideas which make the nominal essence so
  • far from being settles and perfectly known, that very material doubts
  • may still arise about it. And I imagine none of the definitions of the
  • word MAN which we yet have, nor descriptios of that sort of animal, are
  • so perfect and exact as to satisfy a considerate inquisitive person;
  • much less to obtain a general consent, and to be that which men would
  • everywhere stick by, in the decision of cases, and determining of life
  • and death, baptism or no baptism, in productions that mights happen.
  • 28. But not so arbitrary as Mixed Modes.
  • But though these nominal essences of substances are made by the mind,
  • they are not yet made so arbitrarily as those of mixed modes. To the
  • making of any nominal essence, it is necessary, First, that the ideas
  • whereof it consists have such a union as to make but one idea, how
  • compounded soever. Secondly, that the particular ideas so united be
  • exactly the same, neither more nor less. For if two abstract complex
  • ideas differ either in number or sorts of their component parts, they
  • make two different, and not one and the same essence. In the first of
  • these, the mind, in making its complex ideas of substances, only follows
  • nature; and puts none together which are not supposed to have a union in
  • nature. Nobody joins the voice of a sheep with the shape of a horse;
  • nor the colour of lead with the weight and fixedness of gold, to be the
  • complex ideas of any real substances; unless he has a mind to fill his
  • head with chimeras, and his discourse with unintelligible words. Men
  • observing certain qualities always joined and existing together, therein
  • copied nature; and of ideas so united made their complex ones of
  • substances. For, though men may make what complex ideas they please, and
  • give what names to them they will; yet, if they will be understood WHEN
  • THEY SPEAK OF THINGS REALLY EXISTING, they must in some degree conform
  • their ideas to the things they would speak of; or else men's language
  • will be like that of Babel; and every man's words, being intelligible
  • only to himself, would no longer serve to conversation and the ordinary
  • affairs of life, if the ideas they stand for be not some way answering
  • the common appearances and agreement of substances as they really exist.
  • 29. Our Nominal Essences of substances usually consist of a few obvious
  • qualities observed in things.
  • Secondly, Though the mind of man, in making its complex ideas of
  • substances, never puts any together that do not really, or are not
  • supposed to, co-exist; and so it truly borrows that union from nature:
  • yet the number it combines depends upon the various care, industry, or
  • fancy of him that makes it. Men generally content themselves with some
  • few sensible obvious qualities; and often, if not always, leave out
  • others as material and as firmly united as those that they take. Of
  • sensible substances there are two sorts: one of organized bodies, which
  • are propagated by seed; and in these the SHAPE is that which to us is
  • the leading quality, and most characteristical part, that determines
  • the species. And therefore in vegetables and animals, an extended solid
  • substance of such a certain figure usually serves the turn. For however
  • some men seem to prize their definition of animal rationale, yet should
  • there a creature be found that had language and reason, but partaked not
  • of the usual shape of a man, I believe it would hardly pass for a man,
  • how much soever it were animal rationale. And if Balaam's ass had all
  • his life discoursed as rationally as he did once with his master, I
  • doubt yet whether any one would have thought him worthy the name man, or
  • allowed him to be of the same species with himself. As in vegetables
  • and animals it is the shape, so in most other bodies, not propagated by
  • seed, it is the COLOUR we most fix on, and are most led by. Thus
  • where we find the colour of gold, we are apt to imagine all the other
  • qualities comprehended in our complex idea to be there also: and we
  • commonly take these two obvious qualities, viz. shape and colour, for so
  • presumptive ideas of several species, that in a good picture, we readily
  • say, this is a lion, and that a rose; this is a gold, and that a silver
  • goblet, only by the different figures and colours represented to the eye
  • by the pencil.
  • 30. Yet, imperfect as they thus are, they serve for common converse.
  • But though this serves well enough for gross and confused conceptions,
  • and inaccurate ways of talking and thinking; yet MEN ARE FAR ENOUGH
  • FROM HAVING AGREED ON THE PRECISE NUMBER OF SIMPLE IDEAS OR QUALITIES
  • BELONGING TO ANY SORT OF THINGS, SIGNIFIED BY ITS NAME. Nor is it a
  • wonder; since it requires much time, pains, and skill, strict inquiry,
  • and long examination to find out what, and how many, those simple ideas
  • are, which are constantly and inseparably united in nature, and are
  • always to be found together in the same subject. Most men, wanting
  • either time, inclination, or industry enough for this, even to some
  • tolerable degree, content themselves with some few obvious and outward
  • appearances of things, thereby readily to distinguish and sort them for
  • the common affairs of life: and so, without further examination, give
  • them names, or take up the names already in use. Which, though in common
  • conversation they pass well enough for the signs of some few obvious
  • qualities co-existing, are yet far enough from comprehending, in a
  • settled signification, a precise number of simple ideas, much less all
  • those which are united in nature. He that shall consider, after so
  • much stir about genus and species, and such a deal of talk of specific
  • differences, how few words we have yet settled definitions of, may with
  • reason imagine, that those FORMS which there hath been so much noise
  • made about are only chimeras, which give us no light into the specific
  • natures of things. And he that shall consider how far the names of
  • substances are from having significations wherein all who use them do
  • agree, will have reason to conclude that, though the nominal essences of
  • substances are all supposed to be copied from nature, yet they are all,
  • or most of them, very imperfect. Since the composition of those complex
  • ideas are, in several men, very different: and therefore that these
  • boundaries of species are as men, and not as Nature, makes them, if at
  • least there are in nature any such prefixed bounds. It is true that many
  • particular substances are so made by Nature, that they have agreement
  • and likeness one with another, and so afford a foundation of being
  • ranked into sorts. But the sorting of things by us, or the making of
  • determinate species, being in order to naming and comprehending them
  • under general terms, I cannot see how it can be properly said, that
  • Nature sets the boundaries of the species of things: or, if it be so,
  • our boundaries of species are not exactly conformable to those in
  • nature. For we, having need of general names for present use, stay not
  • for a perfect discovery of all those qualities which would BEST show us
  • their most material differences and agreements; but we ourselves divide
  • them, by certain obvious appearances, into species, that we may the
  • easier under general names communicate our thoughts about them. For,
  • having no other knowledge of any substance but of the simple ideas that
  • are united in it; and observing several particular things to agree with
  • others in several of those simple ideas; we make that collection our
  • specific idea, and give it a general name; that in recording our
  • thoughts, and in our discourse with others, we may in one short word
  • designate all the individuals that agree in that complex idea, without
  • enumerating the simple ideas that make it up; and so not waste our time
  • and breath in tedious descriptions: which we see they are fain to do who
  • would discourse of any new sort of things they have not yet a name for.
  • 31. Essences of Species under the same Name very different in different
  • minds.
  • But however these species of substances pass well enough in ordinary
  • conversation, it is plain that this complex idea wherein they observe
  • several individuals to agree, is by different men made very differently;
  • by some more, and others less accurately. In some, this complex idea
  • contains a greater, and in others a smaller number of qualities; and so
  • is apparently such as the mind makes it. The yellow shining colour makes
  • gold to children; others add weight, malleableness, and fusibility; and
  • others yet other qualities, which they find joined with that yellow
  • colour, as constantly as its weight and fusibility. For in all these and
  • the like qualities, one has as good a right to be put into the complex
  • idea of that substance wherein they are all joined as another. And
  • therefore different men, leaving out or putting in several simple ideas
  • which others do not, according to their various examination, skill, or
  • observation of that subject, have different essences of gold, which must
  • therefore be of their own and not of nature's making.
  • 32. The more general our Ideas of Substances are, the more incomplete
  • and partial they are.
  • If the number of simple ideas that make the nominal essence of the
  • lowest species, or first sorting, of individuals, depends on the mind of
  • man, variously collecting them, it is much more evident that they do so
  • in the more comprehensive classes, which, by the masters of logic, are
  • called genera. These are complex ideas designedly imperfect: and it is
  • visible at first sight, that several of those qualities that are to
  • be found in the things themselves are purposely left out of generical
  • ideas. For, as the mind, to make general ideas comprehending several
  • particulars, leaves out those of time and place, and such other, that
  • make them incommunicable to more than one individual; so to make other
  • yet more general ideas, that may comprehend different sorts, it leaves
  • out those qualities that distinguish them, and puts into its new
  • collection only such ideas as are common to several sorts. The same
  • convenience that made men express several parcels of yellow matter
  • coming from Guinea and Peru under one name, sets them also upon making
  • of one name that may comprehend both gold and silver, and some other
  • bodies of different sorts. This is done by leaving out those qualities,
  • which are peculiar to each sort, and retaining a complex idea made up
  • of those that are common to them all. To which the name METAL being
  • annexed, there is a genus constituted; the essence whereof being that
  • abstract idea, containing only malleableness and fusibility, with
  • certain degrees of weight and fixedness, wherein some bodies of several
  • kinds agree, leaves out the colour and other qualities peculiar to gold
  • and silver, and the other sorts comprehended under the name metal.
  • Whereby it is plain that men follow not exactly the patterns set them by
  • nature, when they make their general ideas of substances; since there is
  • no body to be found which has barely malleableness and fusibility in
  • it, without other qualities as inseparable as those. But men, in making
  • their general ideas, seeking more the convenience of language, and quick
  • dispatch by short and comprehensive signs, than the true and precise
  • nature of things as they exist, have, in the framing their abstract
  • ideas, chiefly pursued that end; which was to be furnished with store
  • of general and variously comprehensive names. So that in this whole
  • business of genera and species, the genus, or more comprehensive, is but
  • a partial conception of what is in the species; and the species but a
  • partial idea of what is to be found in each individual. If therefore any
  • one will think that a man, and a horse, and an animal, and a plant, &c.,
  • are distinguished by real essences made by nature, he must think nature
  • to be very liberal of these real essences, making one for body, another
  • for an animal, and another for a horse; and all these essences liberally
  • bestowed upon Bucephalus. But if we would rightly consider what is done
  • in all these genera and species, or sorts, we should find that there is
  • no new thing made; but only more or less comprehensive signs, whereby we
  • may be enabled to express in a few syllables great numbers of particular
  • things, as they agree in more or less general conceptions, which we
  • have framed to that purpose. In all which we may observe, that the more
  • general term is always the name of a less complex idea; and that each
  • genus is but a partial conception of; the species comprehended under it.
  • So that if these abstract general ideas be thought to be complete, it
  • can only be in respect of a certain established relation between them
  • and certain names which are made use of to signify them; and not in
  • respect of anything existing, as made by nature.
  • 33. This all accommodated to the end of the Speech.
  • This is adjusted to the true end of speech, which is to be the easiest
  • and shortest way of communicating our notions. For thus he that would
  • discourse of things, as they agreed in the complex idea of extension and
  • solidity, needed but use the word BODY to denote all such. He that
  • to these would join others, signified by the words life, sense, and
  • spontaneous motion, needed but use the word ANIMAL to signify all which
  • partaked of those ideas, and he that had made a complex idea of a body,
  • with life, sense, and motion, with the faculty of reasoning, and a
  • certain shape joined to it, needed but use the short monosyllable MAN,
  • to express all particulars that correspond to that complex idea. This is
  • the proper business of genus and species: and this men do without any
  • consideration of real essences, or substantial forms; which come not
  • within the reach of our knowledge when we think of those things, nor
  • within the signification of our words when we discourse with others.
  • 34. Instance in Cassowaries.
  • Were I to talk with any one of a sort of birds I lately saw in St.
  • James's Park, about three or four feet high, with a covering of
  • something between feathers and hair, of a dark brown colour, without
  • wings, but in the place thereof two or three little branches coming down
  • like sprigs of Spanish broom, long great legs, with feet only of three
  • claws, and without a tail; I must make this description of it, and so
  • may make others understand me. But when I am told that the name of it
  • is CASSUARIS, I may then use that word to stand in discourse for all my
  • complex idea mentioned in that description; though by that word, which
  • is now become a specific name, I know no more of the real essence
  • or constitution of that sort of animals than I did before; and knew
  • probably as much of the nature of that species of birds before I learned
  • the name, as many Englishmen do of swans or herons, which are specific
  • names, very well known, of sorts of birds common in England.
  • 35. Men determine the Sorts of Substances, which may be sorted
  • variously.
  • From what has been said, it is evident that MEN make sorts of things.
  • For, it being different essences alone that make different species, it
  • is plain that they who make those abstract ideas which are the nominal
  • essences do thereby make the species, or sort. Should there be a body
  • found, having all the other qualities of gold except malleableness, it
  • would no doubt be made a question whether it were gold or not, i.e.
  • whether it were of that species. This could be determined only by that
  • abstract idea to which every one annexed the name gold: so that it
  • would be true gold to him, and belong to that species, who included not
  • malleableness in his nominal essence, signified by the sound gold; and
  • on the other side it would not be true gold, or of that species, to him
  • who included malleableness in his specific idea. And who, I pray, is it
  • that makes these diverse species, even under one and the same name, but
  • men that make two different abstract ideas, consisting not exactly
  • of the same collection of qualities? Nor is it a mere supposition to
  • imagine that a body may exist wherein the other obvious qualities of
  • gold may be without malleableness; since it is certain that gold itself
  • will be sometimes so eager, (as artists call it,) that it will as little
  • endure the hammer as glass itself. What we have said of the putting in,
  • or leaving out of malleableness, in the complex idea the name gold is by
  • any one annexed to, may be said of its peculiar weight, fixedness, and
  • several other the like qualities: for whatever is left out, or put in,
  • it is still the complex idea to which that name is annexed that makes
  • the species: and as any particular parcel of matter answers that idea,
  • so the name of the sort belongs truly to it; and it is of that species.
  • And thus anything is true gold, perfect metal. All which determination
  • of the species, it is plain, depends on the understanding of man, making
  • this or that complex idea.
  • 36. Nature makes the Similitudes of Substances.
  • This, then, in short, is the case: Nature makes many PARTICULAR THINGS,
  • which do agree one with another in many sensible qualities, and probably
  • too in their internal frame and constitution: but it is not this real
  • essence that distinguishes them into species; it is men who, taking
  • occasion from the qualities they find united in them, and wherein they
  • observe often several individuals to agree, range them into sorts, in
  • order to their naming, for the convenience of comprehensive signs;
  • under which individuals, according to their conformity to this or that
  • abstract idea, come to be ranked as under ensigns: so that this is of
  • the blue, that the red regiment; this is a man, that a drill: and in
  • this, I think, consists the whole business of genus and species.
  • 37. The manner of sorting particular beings the work of fallible men,
  • though nature makes things alike.
  • I do not deny but nature, in the constant production of particular
  • beings, makes them not always new and various, but very much alike
  • and of kin one to another: but I think it nevertheless true, that the
  • boundaries of the species, whereby men sort them, are made by men; since
  • the essences of the species, distinguished by different names, are, as
  • has been proved, of man's making, and seldom adequate to the internal
  • nature of the things they are taken from. So that we may truly say, such
  • a manner of sorting of things is the workmanship of men.
  • 38. Each abstract Idea, with a name to it, makes a nominal Essence.
  • One thing I doubt not but will seem very strange in this doctrine, which
  • is, that from what has been said it will follow, that each abstract
  • idea, with a name to it, makes a distinct species. But who can help it,
  • if truth will have it so? For so it must remain till somebody can show
  • us the species of things limited and distinguished by something else;
  • and let us see that general terms signify not our abstract ideas, but
  • something different from them. I would fain know why a shock and a hound
  • are not as distinct species as a spaniel and an elephant. We have no
  • other idea of the different essence of an elephant and a spaniel,
  • than we have of the different essence of a shock and a hound; all the
  • essential difference, whereby we know and distinguish them one from
  • another, consisting only in the different collection of simple ideas, to
  • which we have given those different names.
  • 39. How Genera and Species are related to naming.
  • How much the making of species and genera is in order to general names;
  • and how much general names are necessary, if not to the being, yet at
  • least to the completing of a species, and making it pass for such, will
  • appear, besides what has been said above concerning ice and water, in
  • a very familiar example. A silent and a striking watch are but one
  • species, to those who have but one name for them: but he that has the
  • name WATCH for one, and CLOCK for the other, and distinct complex ideas
  • to which those names belong, to HIM they are different species. It
  • will be said perhaps, that the inward contrivance and constitution is
  • different between these two, which the watchmaker has a clear idea of.
  • And yet it is plain they are but one species to him, when he has but one
  • name for them. For what is sufficient in the inward contrivance to make
  • a new species? There are some watches that are made with four wheels,
  • others with five; is this a specific difference to the workman? Some
  • have strings and physics, and others none; some have the balance loose,
  • and others regulated by a spiral spring, and others by hogs' bristles.
  • Are any or all of these enough to make a specific difference to
  • the workman, that knows each of these and several other different
  • contrivances in the internal constitutions of watches? It is certain
  • each of these hath a real difference from the rest; but whether it be an
  • essential, a specific difference or no, relates only to the complex idea
  • to which the name watch is given: as long as they all agree in the idea
  • which that name stands for, and that name does not as a generical name
  • comprehend different species under it, they are not essentially nor
  • specifically different. But if any one will make minuter divisions, from
  • differences that he knows in the internal frame of watches, and to such
  • precise complex ideas give names that shall prevail; they will then be
  • new species, to them who have those ideas with names to them, and can by
  • those differences distinguish watches into these several sorts; and
  • then WATCH will be a generical name. But yet they would be no distinct
  • species to men ignorant of clock-work, and the inward contrivances of
  • watches, who had no other idea but the outward shape and bulk, with the
  • marking of the hours by the hand. For to them all those other names
  • would be but synonymous terms for the same idea, and signify no more,
  • nor no other thing but a watch. Just thus I think it is in natural
  • things. Nobody will doubt that the wheels or springs (if I may so say)
  • within, are different in a RATIONAL MAN and a CHANGELING; no more
  • than that there is a difference in the frame between a DRILL and a
  • CHANGELING. But whether one or both these differences be essential or
  • specifical, is only to be known to us by their agreement or disagreement
  • with the complex idea that the name man stands for: for by that alone
  • can it be determined whether one, or both, or neither of those be a man.
  • 40. Species of Artificial Things less confused than Natural.
  • From what has been before said, we may see the reason why, in the
  • species of artificial things, there is generally less confusion and
  • uncertainty than in natural. Because an artificial thing being a
  • production of man, which the artificer designed, and therefore well
  • knows the idea of, the name of it is supposed to stand for no other
  • idea, nor to import any other essence, than what is certainly to be
  • known, and easy enough to be apprehended. For the idea or essence of
  • the several sorts of artificial things, consisting for the most part
  • in nothing but the determinate figure of sensible parts, and sometimes
  • motion depending thereon, which the artificer fashions in matter, such
  • as he finds for his turn; it is not beyond the reach of our faculties to
  • attain a certain idea thereof; and so settle the signification of the
  • names whereby the species of artificial things are distinguished, with
  • less doubt, obscurity, and equivocation than we can in things natural,
  • whose differences and operations depend upon contrivances beyond the
  • reach of our discoveries.
  • 41. Artificial Things of distinct Species.
  • I must be excused here if I think artificial things are of distinct
  • species as well as natural: since I find they are as plainly and orderly
  • ranked into sorts, by different abstract ideas, with general names
  • annexed to them, as distinct one from another as those of natural
  • substances. For why should we not think a watch and pistol as distinct
  • species one from another, as a horse and a dog; they being expressed in
  • our minds by distinct ideas, and to others by distinct appellations?
  • 42. Substances alone, of all our several sorts of ideas, have proper
  • Names.
  • This is further to be observed concerning substances, that they alone of
  • all our several sorts of ideas have particular or proper names, whereby
  • one only particular thing is signified. Because in simple ideas, modes,
  • and relations, it seldom happens that men have occasion to mention often
  • this or that particular when it is absent. Besides, the greatest part of
  • mixed modes, being actions which perish in their birth, are not capable
  • of a lasting duration, as substances which are the actors; and wherein
  • the simple ideas that make up the complex ideas designed by the name
  • have a lasting union.
  • 43. Difficult to lead another by words into the thoughts of things
  • stripped of those abstract ideas we give them.
  • I must beg pardon of my reader for having dwelt so long upon this
  • subject, and perhaps with some obscurity. But I desire it may be
  • considered, how difficult it is to lead another by words into the
  • thoughts of things, stripped of those specifical differences we give
  • them: which things, if I name not, I say nothing; and if I do name them,
  • I thereby rank them into some sort or other, and suggest to the mind the
  • usual abstract idea of that species; and so cross my purpose. For,
  • to talk of a man, and to lay by, at the same time, the ordinary
  • signification of the name man, which is our complex idea usually annexed
  • to it; and bid the reader consider man, as he is in himself, and as he
  • is really distinguished from others in his internal constitution, or
  • real essence, that is, by something he knows not what, looks like
  • trifling: and yet thus one must do who would speak of the supposed real
  • essences and species of things, as thought to be made by nature, if it
  • be but only to make it understood, that there is no such thing signified
  • by the general names which substances are called by. But because it is
  • difficult by known familiar names to do this, give me leave to endeavour
  • by an example to make the different consideration the mind has of
  • specific names and ideas a little more clear; and to show how the
  • complex ideas of modes are referred sometimes to archetypes in the minds
  • of other intelligent beings, or, which is the same, to the signification
  • annexed by others to their received names; and sometimes to no
  • archetypes at all. Give me leave also to show how the mind always refers
  • its ideas of substances, either to the substances themselves, or to the
  • signification of their names, as to the archetypes; and also to make
  • plain the nature of species or sorting of things, as apprehended and
  • made use of by us; and of the essences belonging to those species: which
  • is perhaps of more moment to discover the extent and certainty of our
  • knowledge than we at first imagine.
  • 44. Instances of mixed Modes names KINNEAH and NIOUPH.
  • Let us suppose Adam, in the state of a grown man, with a good
  • understanding, but in a strange country, with all things new and unknown
  • about him; and no other faculties to attain the knowledge of them but
  • what one of this age has now. He observes Lamech more melancholy than
  • usual, and imagines it to be from a suspicion he has of his wife Adah,
  • (whom he most ardently loved) that she had too much kindness for another
  • man. Adam discourses these his thoughts to Eve, and desires her to take
  • care that Adah commit not folly: and in these discourses with Eve he
  • makes use of these two new words KINNEAH and NIOUPH. In time, Adam's
  • mistake appears, for he finds Lamech's trouble proceeded from having
  • killed a man: but yet the two names KINNEAH and NIOUPH, (the one
  • standing for suspicion in a husband of his wife's disloyalty to him; and
  • the other for the act of committing disloyalty,) lost not their distinct
  • significations. It is plain then, that here were two distinct complex
  • ideas of mixed modes, with names to them, two distinct species of
  • actions essentially different; I ask wherein consisted the essences of
  • these two distinct species of actions? And it is plain it consisted in a
  • precise combination of simple ideas, different in one from the other. I
  • ask, whether the complex idea in Adam's mind, which he called KINNEAH,
  • were adequate or not? And it is plain it was; for it being a combination
  • of simple ideas, which he, without any regard to any archetype, without
  • respect to anything as a pattern, voluntarily put together, abstracted,
  • and gave the name KINNEAH to, to express in short to others, by that one
  • sound, all the simple ideas contained and united in that complex one;
  • it must necessarily follow that it was an adequate idea. His own choice
  • having made that combination, it had all in it he intended it should,
  • and so could not but be perfect, could not but be adequate; it being
  • referred to no other archetype which it was supposed to represent.
  • 45. These words, KINNEAH and NIOUPH, by degrees grew into common use,
  • and then the case was somewhat altered. Adam's children had the same
  • faculties, and thereby the same power that he had, to make what complex
  • ideas of mixed modes they pleased in their own minds; to abstract them,
  • and make what sounds they pleased the signs of them: but the use of
  • names being to make our ideas within us known to others, that cannot be
  • done, but when the same sign stands for the same idea in two who would
  • communicate their thoughts and discourse together. Those, therefore,
  • of Adam's children, that found these two words, KINNEAH and NIOUPH, in
  • familiar use, could not take them for insignificant sounds, but must
  • needs conclude they stood for something; for certain ideas, abstract
  • ideas, they being general names; which abstract ideas were the essences
  • of the species distinguished by those names. If therefore, they would
  • use these words as names of species already established and agreed on,
  • they were obliged to conform the ideas in their minds, signified by
  • these names, to the ideas that they stood for in other men's minds, as
  • to their patterns and archetypes; and then indeed their ideas of
  • these complex modes were liable to be inadequate, as being very apt
  • (especially those that consisted of combinations of many simple ideas)
  • not to be exactly conformable to the ideas in other men's minds, using
  • the same names; though for this there be usually a remedy at hand, which
  • is to ask the meaning of any word we understand not of him that uses it:
  • it being as impossible to know certainly what the words jealousy and
  • adultery (which I think answer [Hebrew] and [Hebrew]) stand for in
  • another man's mind, with whom I would discourse about them; as it was
  • impossible, in the beginning of language, to know what KINNEAH and
  • NIOUPH stood for in another man's mind, without explication; they being
  • voluntary signs in every one.
  • 46. Instances of a species of Substance named ZAHAB.
  • Let us now also consider, after the same manner, the names of substances
  • in their first application. One of Adam's children, roving in the
  • mountains, lights on a glittering substance which pleases his eye. Home
  • he carries it to Adam, who, upon consideration of it, finds it to be
  • hard, to have a bright yellow colour, and an exceeding great weight.
  • These perhaps, at first, are all the qualities he takes notice of in it;
  • and abstracting this complex idea, consisting of a substance having that
  • peculiar bright yellowness, and a weight very great in proportion to its
  • bulk, he gives the name ZAHAB, to denominate and mark all substances
  • that have these sensible qualities in them. It is evident now, that,
  • in this case, Adam acts quite differently from what he did before, in
  • forming those ideas of mixed modes to which he gave the names KINNEAH
  • and NIOUPH. For there he put ideas together only by his own imagination,
  • not taken from the existence of anything; and to them he gave names to
  • denominate all things that should happen to agree to those his abstract
  • ideas, without considering whether any such thing did exist or not: the
  • standard there was of his own making. But in the forming his idea of
  • this new substance, he takes the quite contrary course; here he has
  • a standard made by nature; and therefore, being to represent that to
  • himself, by the idea he has of it, even when it is absent, he puts in no
  • simple idea into his complex one, but what he has the perception of from
  • the thing itself. He takes care that his idea be conformable to this
  • archetype, and intends the name should stand for an idea so conformable.
  • 47.
  • This piece of matter, thus denominated ZAHAB by Adam, being quite
  • different from any he had seen before, nobody, I think, will deny to be
  • a distinct species, and to have its peculiar essence; and that the name
  • ZAHAB is the mark of the species, and a name belonging to all things
  • partaking in that essence. But here it is plain the essence Adam made
  • the name ZAHAB stand for was nothing but a body hard, shining, yellow,
  • and very heavy. But the inquisitive mind of man, not content with the
  • knowledge of these, as I may say, superficial qualities, puts Adam upon
  • further examination of this matter. He therefore knocks, and beats it
  • with flints, to see what was discoverable in the inside: he finds it
  • yield to blows, but not easily separate into pieces: he finds it will
  • bend without breaking. Is not now ductility to be added to his former
  • idea, and made part of the essence of the species that name ZAHAB stands
  • for? Further trials discover fusibility and fixedness. Are not they
  • also, by the same reason that any of the others were, to be put into the
  • complex idea signified by the name ZAHAB? If not, what reason will there
  • be shown more for the one than the other? If these must, then all the
  • other properties, which any further trials shall discover in this
  • matter, ought by the same reason to make a part of the ingredients of
  • the complex idea which the name ZAHAB stands for, and so be the essence
  • of the species marked by that name. Which properties, because they are
  • endless, it is plain that the idea made after this fashion, by this
  • archetype, will be always inadequate.
  • 48. The Abstract Ideas of Substances always imperfect and therefore
  • various.
  • But this is not all. It would also follow that the names of substances
  • would not only have, as in truth they have, but would also be supposed
  • to have different significations, as used by different men, which would
  • very much cumber the use of language. For if every distinct quality
  • that were discovered in any matter by any one were supposed to make a
  • necessary part of the complex idea signified by the common name given
  • to it, it must follow, that men must suppose the same word to signify
  • different things in different men: since they cannot doubt but different
  • men may have discovered several qualities, in substances of the same
  • denomination, which others know nothing of.
  • 49. Therefore to fix the Nominal Species Real Essence supposed.
  • To avoid this therefore, they have supposed a real essence belonging to
  • every species, from which these properties all flow, and would have
  • their name of the species stand for that. But they, not having any idea
  • of that real essence in substances, and their words signifying nothing
  • but the ideas they have, that which is done by this attempt is only to
  • put the name or sound in the place and stead of the thing having that
  • real essence, without knowing what the real essence is, and this is that
  • which men do when they speak of species of things, as supposing them
  • made by nature, and distinguished by real essences.
  • 50. Which Supposition is of no Use.
  • For, let us consider, when we affirm that 'all gold is fixed,' either
  • it means that fixedness is a part of the definition, i. e., part of the
  • nominal essence the word gold stands for; and so this affirmation, 'all
  • gold is fixed,' contains nothing but the signification of the term gold.
  • Or else it means, that fixedness, not being a part of the definition of
  • the gold, is a property of that substance itself: in which case it is
  • plain that the word gold stands in the place of a substance, having the
  • real essence of a species of things made by nature. In which way of
  • substitution it has so confused and uncertain a signification,
  • that, though this proposition--'gold is fixed'--be in that sense an
  • affirmation of something real; yet it is a truth will always fail us in
  • its particular application, and so is of no real use or certainty. For
  • let it be ever so true, that all gold, i. e. all that has the real
  • essence of gold, is fixed, what serves this for, whilst we know not, in
  • this sense, WHAT IS OR IS NOT GOLD? For if we know not the real essence
  • of gold, it is impossible we should know what parcel of matter has that
  • essence, and so whether IT be true gold or no.
  • 51. Conclusion.
  • To conclude: what liberty Adam had at first to make any complex ideas of
  • MIXED MODES by no other pattern but by his own thoughts, the same have
  • all men ever since had. And the same necessity of conforming his ideas
  • of SUBSTANCES to things without him, as to archetypes made by nature,
  • that Adam was under, if he would not wilfully impose upon himself, the
  • same are all men ever since under too. The same liberty also that Adam
  • had of affixing any new name to any idea, the same has any one still,
  • (especially the beginners of languages, if we can imagine any such;) but
  • only with this difference, that, in places where men in society have
  • already established a language amongst them, the significations of words
  • are very warily and sparingly to be altered. Because men being furnished
  • already with names for their ideas, and common use having appropriated
  • known names to certain ideas, an affected misapplication of them cannot
  • but be very ridiculous. He that hath new notions will perhaps venture
  • sometimes on the coining of new terms to express them: but men think it
  • a boldness, and it is uncertain whether common use will ever make them
  • pass for current. But in communication with others, it is necessary that
  • we conform the ideas we make the vulgar words of any language stand for
  • to their known proper significations, (which I have explained at large
  • already,) or else to make known that new signification we apply them to.
  • CHAPTER VII.
  • OF PARTICLES.
  • 1. Particles connect Parts, or whole Sentences together.
  • Besides words which are names of ideas in the mind, there are a great
  • many others that are made use of to signify the CONNEXION that the mind
  • gives to ideas, or to propositions, one with another. The mind, in
  • communicating its thoughts to others, does not only need signs of the
  • ideas it has then before it, but others also, to show or intimate some
  • particular action of its own, at that time, relating to those ideas.
  • This it does several ways; as _I_S and _I_S NOT, are the general marks,
  • of the mind, affirming or denying. But besides affirmation or negation,
  • without which there is in words no truth or falsehood, the mind does,
  • in declaring its sentiments to others, connect not only the parts of
  • propositions, but whole sentences one to another, with their several
  • relations and dependencies, to make a coherent discourse.
  • 2. In right use of Particles consists the Art of Well-speaking
  • The words whereby it signifies what connexion it gives to the several
  • affirmations and negations, that it unites in one continued reasoning or
  • narration, are generally called PARTICLES: and it is in the right use of
  • these that more particularly consists the clearness and beauty of a good
  • style. To think well, it is not enough that a man has ideas clear
  • and distinct in his thoughts, nor that he observes the agreement or
  • disagreement of some of them; but he must think in train, and observe
  • the dependence of his thoughts and reasonings upon one another. And to
  • express well such methodical and rational thoughts, he must have words
  • to show what connexion, restriction, distinction, opposition, emphasis,
  • &c., he gives to each respective part of his discourse. To mistake
  • in any of these, is to puzzle instead of informing his hearer: and
  • therefore it is, that those words which are not truly by themselves
  • the names of any ideas are of such constant and indispensable use in
  • language, and do much contribute to men's well expressing themselves.
  • 3. They say what Relation the Mind gives to its own Thoughts.
  • This part of grammar has been perhaps as much neglected as some others
  • over-diligently cultivated. It is easy for men to write, one after
  • another, of cases and genders, moods and tenses, gerunds and supines: in
  • these and the like there has been great diligence used; and particles
  • themselves, in some languages, have been, with great show of exactness,
  • ranked into their several orders. But though PREPOSITIONS and
  • CONJUNCTIONS, &c., are names well known in grammar, and the particles
  • contained under them carefully ranked into their distinct subdivisions;
  • yet he who would show the right use of particles, and what significancy
  • and force they have, must take a little more pains, enter into his
  • own thoughts, and observe nicely the several postures of his mind in
  • discoursing.
  • 4. They are all marks of some action or intimation of the mind.
  • Neither is it enough, for the explaining of these words, to render them,
  • as is usual in dictionaries, by words of another tongue which come
  • nearest to their signification: for what is meant by them is commonly as
  • hard to be understood in one as another language. They are all marks of
  • some action or intimation of the mind; and therefore to understand them
  • rightly, the several views, postures, stands, turns, limitations, and
  • exceptions, and several other thoughts of the mind, for which we have
  • either none or very deficient names, are diligently to be studied. Of
  • these there is a great variety, much exceeding the number of particles
  • that most languages have to express them by: and therefore it is not
  • to be wondered that most of these particles have divers and sometimes
  • almost opposite significations. In the Hebrew tongue there is a particle
  • consisting of but one single letter, of which there are reckoned up, as
  • I remember, seventy, I am sure above fifty, several significations.
  • 5. Instance in But.
  • 'But' is a particle, none more familiar in our language: and he that
  • says it is a discretive conjunction, and that it answers to sed Latin,
  • or mais in French, thinks he has sufficiently explained it. But yet it
  • seems to me to intimate several relations the mind gives to the several
  • propositions or parts of them which it joins by this monosyllable.
  • First, 'But to say no more:' here it intimates a stop of the mind in the
  • course it was going, before it came quite to the end of it.
  • Secondly, 'I saw but two plants;' here it shows that the mind limits the
  • sense to what is expressed, with a negation of all other.
  • Thirdly,'You pray; but it is not that God would bring you to the true
  • religion.'
  • Fourthly, 'But that he would confirm you in your own.' The first of
  • these BUTS intimates a supposition in the mind of something otherwise
  • than it should be; the latter shows that the mind makes a direct
  • opposition between that and what goes before it.
  • Fifthly, 'All animals have sense, but a dog is an animal:' here it
  • signifies little more but that the latter proposition is joined to the
  • former, as the minor of a syllogism.
  • 6. This Matter of the use of Particles but lightly touched here.
  • To these, I doubt not, might be added a great many other significations
  • of this particle, if it were my business to examine it in its full
  • latitude, and consider it in all the places it is to be found: which if
  • one should do, I doubt whether in all those manners it is made use of,
  • it would deserve the title of DISCRETIVE, which grammarians give to it.
  • But I intend not here a full explication of this sort of signs. The
  • instances I have given in this one may give occasion to reflect on their
  • use and force in language, and lead us into the contemplation of several
  • actions of our minds in discoursing, which it has found a way to
  • intimate to others by these particles, some whereof constantly, and
  • others in certain constructions, have the sense of a whole sentence
  • contained in them.
  • CHAPTER VIII.
  • OF ABSTRACT AND CONCRETE TERMS.
  • 1. Abstract Terms predicated one on another and why.
  • The ordinary words of language, and our common use of them, would have
  • given us light into the nature of our ideas, if they had been but
  • considered with attention. The mind, as has been shown, has a power
  • to abstract its ideas, and so they become essences, general essences,
  • whereby the sorts of things are distinguished. Now each abstract idea
  • being distinct, so that of any two the one can never be the other, the
  • mind will, by its intuitive knowledge, perceive their difference, and
  • therefore in propositions no two whole ideas can ever be affirmed one of
  • another. This we see in the common use of language, which permits not
  • any two abstract words, or names of abstract ideas, to be affirmed one
  • of another. For how near of kin soever they may seem to be, and how
  • certain soever it is that man is an animal, or rational, or white,
  • yet every one at first hearing perceives the falsehood of these
  • propositions: HUMANITY IS ANIMALITY, or RATIONALITY, or WHITENESS:
  • and this is as evident as any of the most allowed maxims. All our
  • affirmations then are only in concrete, which is the affirming, not
  • one abstract idea to be another, but one abstract idea to be joined to
  • another; which abstract ideas, in substances, may be of any sort; in all
  • the rest are little else but of relations; and in substances the most
  • frequent are of powers: v.g. 'a man is white,' signifies that the thing
  • that has the essence of a man has also in it the essence of whiteness,
  • which is nothing but a power to produce the idea of whiteness in one
  • whose eyes can discover ordinary objects: or, 'a man is rational,'
  • signifies that the same thing that hath the essence of a man hath also
  • in it the essence of rationality, i.e. a power of reasoning.
  • 2. They show the Difference of our Ideas.
  • This distinction of names shows us also the difference of our ideas:
  • for if we observe them, we shall find that OUR SIMPLE IDEAS HAVE ALL
  • ABSTRACT AS WELL AS CONCRETE NAMES: the one whereof is (to speak the
  • language of grammarians) a substantive, the other an adjective; as
  • whiteness, white; sweetness, sweet. The like also holds in our ideas of
  • modes and relations; as justice, just; equality, equal: only with this
  • difference, that some of the concrete names of relations amongst men
  • chiefly are substantives; as, paternitas, pater; whereof it were easy to
  • render a reason. But as to our ideas of substances, we have very few
  • or no abstract names at all. For though the Schools have introduced
  • animalitas, humanitas, corporietas, and some others; yet they hold no
  • proportion with that infinite number of names of substances, to which
  • they never were ridiculous enough to attempt the coining of abstract
  • ones: and those few that the Schools forged, and put into the mouths
  • of their scholars, could never yet get admittance into common use, or
  • obtain the license of public approbation. Which seems to me at least to
  • intimate the confession of all mankind, that they have no ideas of the
  • real essences of substances, since they have not names for such ideas:
  • which no doubt they would have had, had not their consciousness to
  • themselves of their ignorance of them kept them from so idle an attempt.
  • And therefore, though they had ideas enough to distinguish gold from a
  • stone, and metal from wood; yet they but timorously ventured on such
  • terms, as aurietas and saxietas, metallietas and lignietas, or the
  • like names, which should pretend to signify the real essences of those
  • substances whereof they knew they had no ideas. And indeed it was only
  • the doctrine of SUBSTANTIAL FORMS, and the confidence of mistaken
  • pretenders to a knowledge that they had not, which first coined and then
  • introduced animalitas and humanitas, and the like; which yet went very
  • little further than their own Schools, and could never get to be current
  • amongst understanding men. Indeed, humanitas was a word in familiar use
  • amongst the Romans; but in a far different sense, and stood not for the
  • abstract essence of any substance; but was the abstracted name of a
  • mode, and its concrete humanus, not homo.
  • CHAPTER IX.
  • OF THE IMPERFECTION OF WORDS.
  • 1. Words are used for recording and communicating our Thoughts.
  • From what has been said in the foregoing chapters, it is easy to
  • perceive what imperfection there is in language, and how the very nature
  • of words makes it almost unavoidable for many of them to be doubtful
  • and uncertain in their significations. To examine the perfection or
  • imperfection of words, it is necessary first to consider their use and
  • end: for as they are more or less fitted to attain that, so they are
  • more or less perfect. We have, in the former part of this discourse
  • often, upon occasion, mentioned a double use of words.
  • First, One for the recording of our own thoughts.
  • Secondly, The other for the communicating of our thoughts to others.
  • 2. Any Words will serve for recording.
  • As to the first of these, FOR THE RECORDING OUR OWN THOUGHTS FOR THE
  • HELP OF OUR OWN MEMORIES, whereby, as it were, we talk to ourselves,
  • any words will serve the turn. For since sounds are voluntary and
  • indifferent signs of any ideas, a man may use what words he pleases to
  • signify his own ideas to himself: and there will be no imperfection in
  • them, if he constantly use the same sign for the same idea: for then he
  • cannot fail of having his meaning understood, wherein consists the right
  • use and perfection of language.
  • 3. Communication by Words either for civil or philosophical purposes.
  • Secondly, As to COMMUNICATION BY WORDS, that too has a double use.
  • I. Civil.
  • II. Philosophical. First, By, their CIVIL use, I mean such a
  • communication of thoughts and ideas by words, as may serve for the
  • upholding common conversation and commerce, about the ordinary affairs
  • and conveniences of civil life, in the societies of men, one amongst
  • another.
  • Secondly, By the PHILOSOPHICAL use of words, I mean such a use of them
  • as may serve to convey the precise notions of things, and to express in
  • general propositions certain and undoubted truths, which the mind may
  • rest upon and be satisfied with in its search after true knowledge.
  • These two uses are very distinct; and a great deal less exactness will
  • serve in the one than in the other, as we shall see in what follows.
  • 4. The imperfection of Words is the Doubtfulness or ambiguity of their
  • Signification, which is caused by the sort of ideas they stand for.
  • The chief end of language in communication being to be understood,
  • words serve not well for that end, neither in civil nor philosophical
  • discourse, when any word does not excite in the hearer the same idea
  • which it stands for in the mind of the speaker. Now, since sounds have
  • no natural connexion with our ideas, but have all their signification
  • from the arbitrary imposition of men, the doubtfulness and uncertainty
  • of their signification, which is the imperfection we here are speaking
  • of, has its cause more in the ideas they stand for than in any
  • incapacity there is in one sound more than in another to signify any
  • idea: for in that regard they are all equally perfect.
  • That then which makes doubtfulness and uncertainty in the signification
  • of some more than other words, is the difference of ideas they stand
  • for.
  • 5. Natural Causes of their Imperfection, especially in those that stand
  • for Mixed Modes, and for our ideas of Substances.
  • Words having naturally no signification, the idea which each stands for
  • must be learned and retained, by those who would exchange thoughts, and
  • hold intelligible discourse with others, in any language. But this is
  • the hardest to be done where,
  • First, The ideas they stand for are very complex, and made up of a great
  • number of ideas put together.
  • Secondly, Where the ideas they stand for have no certain connexion in
  • nature; and so no settled standard anywhere in nature existing, to
  • rectify and adjust them by.
  • Thirdly, When the signification of the word is referred to a standard,
  • which standard is not easy to be known.
  • Fourthly, Where the signification of the word and the real essence of
  • the thing are not exactly the same.
  • These are difficulties that attend the signification of several words
  • that are intelligible. Those which are not intelligible at all, such
  • as names standing for any simple ideas which another has not organs or
  • faculties to attain; as the names of colours to a blind man, or sounds
  • to a deaf man, need not here be mentioned.
  • In all these cases we shall find an imperfection in words; which I shall
  • more at large explain, in their particular application to our several
  • sorts of ideas: for if we examine them, we shall find that the NAMES OF
  • _M_IXED _M_ODES ARE MOST LIABLE TO DOUBTFULNESS AND IMPERFECTION, FOR
  • THE TWO FIRST OF THESE REASONS; and the NAMES OF _S_UBSTANCES CHIEFLY
  • FOR THE TWO LATTER.
  • 6. The Names of mixed Modes doubtful.
  • First, The names of MIXED MODES are, many of them, liable to great
  • uncertainty and obscurity in their signification.
  • I. Because the Ideas they stand for are so complex.
  • Because of that GREAT COMPOSITION these complex ideas are often made
  • up of. To make words serviceable to the end of communication, it is
  • necessary, as has been said, that they excite in the hearer exactly the
  • same idea they stand for in the mind of the speaker. Without this, men
  • fill one another's heads with noise and sounds; but convey not thereby
  • their thoughts, and lay not before one another their ideas, which is the
  • end of discourse and language. But when a word stands for a very complex
  • idea that is compounded and decompounded, it is not easy for men to form
  • and retain that idea so exactly, as to make the name in common use stand
  • for the same precise idea, without any the least variation. Hence it
  • comes to pass that men's names of very compound ideas, such as for the
  • most part are moral words, have seldom in two different men the same
  • precise signification; since one man's complex idea seldom agrees with
  • another's, and often differs from his own--from that which he had
  • yesterday, or will have tomorrow.
  • 7. Secondly because they have no Standards in Nature.
  • Because the names of mixed modes for the most part WANT STANDARDS
  • IN NATURE, whereby men may rectify and adjust their significations;
  • therefore they are very various and doubtful. They are assemblages of
  • ideas put together at the pleasure of the mind, pursuing its own ends of
  • discourse, and suited to its own notions; whereby it designs not to copy
  • anything really existing, but to denominate and rank things as they
  • come to agree with those archetypes or forms it has made. He that first
  • brought the word SHAM, or WHEEDLE, or BANTER, in use, put together as he
  • thought fit those ideas he made it stand for; and as it is with any new
  • names of modes that are now brought into any language, so it was with
  • the old ones when they were first made use of. Names, therefore, that
  • stand for collections of ideas which the mind makes at pleasure must
  • needs be of doubtful signification, when such collections are nowhere
  • to be found constantly united in nature, nor any patterns to be shown
  • whereby men may adjust them. What the word MURDER, or SACRILEGE, &c.,
  • signifies can never be known from things themselves: there be many of
  • the parts of those complex ideas which are not visible in the action
  • itself; the intention of the mind, or the relation of holy things, which
  • make a part of murder or sacrilege, have no necessary connexion with the
  • outward and visible action of him that commits either: and the pulling
  • the trigger of the gun with which the murder is committed, and is all
  • the action that perhaps is visible, has no natural connexion with those
  • other ideas that make up the complex one named murder. They have their
  • union and combination only from the understanding which unites them
  • under one name: but, uniting them without any rule or pattern, it cannot
  • be but that the signification of the name that stands for such voluntary
  • collections should be often various in the minds of different men, who
  • have scarce any standing rule to regulate themselves and their notions
  • by, in such arbitrary ideas.
  • 8. Common use, or propriety not a sufficient Remedy.
  • It is true, common use, that is, the rule of propriety may be supposed
  • here to afford some aid, to settle the signification of language; and it
  • cannot be denied but that in some measure it does. Common use regulates
  • the meaning of words pretty well for common conversation; but nobody
  • having an authority to establish the precise signification of words,
  • nor determine to what ideas any one shall annex them, common use is
  • not sufficient to adjust them to Philosophical Discourses; there being
  • scarce any name of any very complex idea (to say nothing of others)
  • which, in common use, has not a great latitude, and which, keeping
  • within the bounds of propriety, may not be made the sign of far
  • different ideas. Besides, the rule and measure of propriety itself being
  • nowhere established, it is often matter of dispute, whether this or that
  • way of using a word be propriety of speech or no. From all which it is
  • evident, that the names of such kind of very complex ideas are
  • naturally liable to this imperfection, to be of doubtful and uncertain
  • signification; and even in men that have a mind to understand one
  • another, do not always stand for the same idea in speaker and hearer.
  • Though the names GLORY and GRATITUDE be the same in every man's mouth
  • through a whole country, yet the complex collective idea which every one
  • thinks on or intends by that name, is apparently very different in men
  • using the same language.
  • 9. The way of learning these Names contributes also to their
  • Doubtfulness.
  • The way also wherein the names of mixed modes are ordinarily learned,
  • does not a little contribute to the doubtfulness of their signification.
  • For if we will observe how children learn languages, we shall find that,
  • to make them understand what the names of simple ideas or substances
  • stand for, people ordinarily show them the thing whereof they would have
  • them have the idea; and then repeat to them the name that stands for
  • it; as WHITE, SWEET, MILK, SUGAR, CAT, DOG. But as for mixed modes,
  • especially the most material of them, MORAL WORDS, the sounds are
  • usually learned first; and then, to know what complex ideas they stand
  • for, they are either beholden to the explication of others, or (which
  • happens for the most part) are left to their own observation and
  • industry; which being little laid out in the search of the true and
  • precise meaning of names, these moral words are in most men's mouths
  • little more than bare sounds; or when they have any, it is for the most
  • part but a very loose and undetermined, and, consequently, obscure and
  • confused signification. And even those themselves who have with more
  • attention settled their notions, do yet hardly avoid the inconvenience
  • to have them stand for complex ideas different from those which other,
  • even intelligent and studious men, make them the signs of. Where shall
  • one find any, either controversial debate, or familiar discourse,
  • concerning honour, faith, grace, religion, church, &c., wherein it is
  • not easy to observe the different notions men have of them? Which is
  • nothing but this, that they are not agreed in the signification of those
  • words, nor have in their minds the same complex ideas which they make
  • them stand for, and so all the contests that follow thereupon are
  • only about the meaning of a sound. And hence we see that, in the
  • interpretation of laws, whether divine or human, there is no end;
  • comments beget comments, and explications make new matter for
  • explications; and of limiting, distinguishing, varying the signification
  • of these moral words there is no end. These ideas of men's making are,
  • by men still having the same power, multiplied in infinitum. Many a man
  • who was pretty well satisfied of the meaning of a text of Scripture, or
  • clause in the code, at first reading, has, by consulting commentators,
  • quite lost the sense of it, and by these elucidations given rise or
  • increase to his doubts, and drawn obscurity upon the place. I say not
  • this that I think commentaries needless; but to show how uncertain the
  • names of mixed modes naturally are, even in the mouths of those who had
  • both the intention and the faculty of speaking as clearly as language
  • was capable to express their thoughts.
  • 10. Hence unavoidable Obscurity in ancient Authors.
  • What obscurity this has unavoidably brought upon the writings of men who
  • have lived in remote ages, and different countries, it will be needless
  • to take notice. Since the numerous volumes of learned men, employing
  • their thoughts that way, are proofs more than enough, to show what
  • attention, study, sagacity, and reasoning are required to find out the
  • true meaning of ancient authors. But, there being no writings we have
  • any great concernment to be very solicitous about the meaning of, but
  • those that contain either truths we are required to believe, or laws
  • we are to obey, and draw inconveniences on us when we mistake or
  • transgress, we may be less anxious about the sense of other authors;
  • who, writing but their own opinions, we are under no greater necessity
  • to know them, than they to know ours. Our good or evil depending not on
  • their decrees, we may safely be ignorant of their notions: and therefore
  • in the reading of them, if they do not use their words with a due
  • clearness and perspicuity, we may lay them aside, and without any injury
  • done them, resolve thus with ourselves,
  • Si non vis intelligi, debes negligi.
  • 11. Names of Substances of doubtful Signification, because the ideas
  • they stand for relate to the reality of things.
  • If the signification of the names of mixed modes be uncertain, because
  • there be no real standards existing in nature to which those ideas are
  • referred, and by which they may be adjusted, the names of SUBSTANCES are
  • of a doubtful signification, for a contrary reason, viz. because the
  • ideas they stand for are supposed conformable to the reality of things,
  • and are referred to as standards made by Nature. In our ideas of
  • substances we have not the liberty, as in mixed modes, to frame what
  • combinations we think fit, to be the characteristical notes to rank and
  • denominate things by. In these we must follow Nature, suit our complex
  • ideas to real existences, and regulate the signification of their names
  • by the things themselves, if we will have our names to be signs of them,
  • and stand for them. Here, it is true, we have patterns to follow; but
  • patterns that will make the signification of their names very uncertain:
  • for names must be of a very unsteady and various meaning, if the ideas
  • they stand for be referred to standards without us, that either cannot
  • be known at all, or can be known but imperfectly and uncertainly.
  • 12. Names of Substances referred, I. To real Essences that cannot be
  • known.
  • The names of substances have, as has been shown, a double reference in
  • their ordinary use.
  • First, Sometimes they are made to stand for, and so their signification
  • is supposed to agree to, THE REAL CONSTITUTION OF THINGS, from which
  • all their properties flow, and in which they all centre. But this real
  • constitution, or (as it is apt to be called) essence, being utterly
  • unknown to us, any sound that is put to stand for it must be very
  • uncertain in its application; and it will be impossible to know what
  • things are or ought to be called a HORSE, or ANTIMONY, when those words
  • are put for real essences that we have no ideas of at all. And therefore
  • in this supposition, the names of substances being referred to standards
  • that cannot be known, their significations can never be adjusted and
  • established by those standards.
  • 13. Secondly, To co-existing Qualities, which are known but imperfectly.
  • Secondly, The simple ideas that are FOUND TO CO-EXIST IN SUBSTANCES
  • being that which their names immediately signify, these, as united in
  • the several sorts of things, are the proper standards to which their
  • names are referred, and by which their significations may be best
  • rectified. But neither will these archetypes so well serve to this
  • purpose as to leave these names without very various and uncertain
  • significations. Because these simple ideas that co-exist, and are united
  • in the same subject, being very numerous, and having all an equal right
  • to go into the complex specific idea which the specific name is to stand
  • for, men, though they propose to themselves the very same subject to
  • consider, yet frame very different ideas about it; and so the name they
  • use for it unavoidably comes to have, in several men, very different
  • significations. The simple qualities which make up the complex ideas,
  • being most of them powers, in relation to changes which they are apt
  • to make in, or receive from other bodies, are almost infinite. He that
  • shall but observe what a great variety of alterations any one of the
  • baser metals is apt to receive, from the different application only of
  • fire; and how much a greater number of changes any of them will receive
  • in the hands of a chymist, by the application of other bodies, will not
  • think it strange that I count the properties of any sort of bodies not
  • easy to be collected, and completely known, by the ways of inquiry which
  • our faculties are capable of. They being therefore at least so many,
  • that no man can know the precise and definite number, they are
  • differently discovered by different men, according to their various
  • skill, attention, and ways of handling; who therefore cannot choose
  • but have different ideas of the same substance, and therefore make the
  • signification of its common name very various and uncertain. For the
  • complex ideas of substances, being made up of such simple ones as are
  • supposed to co-exist in nature, every one has a right to put into his
  • complex idea those qualities he has found to be united together. For,
  • though in the substance of gold one satisfies himself with colour and
  • weight, yet another thinks solubility in aqua regia as necessary to
  • be joined with that colour in his idea of gold, as any one does its
  • fusibility; solubility in aqua regia being a quality as constantly
  • joined with its colour and weight as fusibility or any other; others
  • put into it ductility or fixedness, &c., as they have been taught by
  • tradition or experience. Who of all these has established the right
  • signification of the word, gold? Or who shall be the judge to determine?
  • Each has his standard in nature, which he appeals to, and with reason
  • thinks he has the same right to put into his complex idea signified by
  • the word gold, those qualities, which, upon trial, he has found united;
  • as another who has not so well examined has to leave them out; or a
  • third, who has made other trials, has to put in others. For the union in
  • nature of these qualities being the true ground of their union in one
  • complex idea, who can say one of them has more reason to be put in or
  • left out than another? From hence it will unavoidably follow, that the
  • complex ideas of substances in men using the same names for them,
  • will be very various, and so the significations of those names very
  • uncertain.
  • 14. Thirdly, To co-existing Qualities which are known but imperfectly.
  • Besides, there is scarce any particular thing existing, which, in some
  • of its simple ideas, does not communicate with a greater, and in others
  • a less number of particular beings: who shall determine in this case
  • which are those that are to make up the precise collection that is to
  • be signified by the specific name? or can with any just authority
  • prescribe, which obvious or common qualities are to be left out;
  • or which more secret, or more particular, are to be put into the
  • signification of the name of any substance? All which together, seldom
  • or never fail to produce that various and doubtful signification in
  • the names of substances, which causes such uncertainty, disputes, or
  • mistakes, when we come to a philosophical use of them.
  • 15. With this imperfection, they may serve for civil, but not well for
  • philosophical Use.
  • It is true, as to civil and common conversation, the general names of
  • substances, regulated in their ordinary signification by some obvious
  • qualities, (as by the shape and figure in things of known seminal
  • propagation, and in other substances, for the most part by colour,
  • joined with some other sensible qualities,) do well enough to design the
  • things men would be understood to speak of: and so they usually
  • conceive well enough the substances meant by the word gold or apple, to
  • distinguish the one from the other. But in PHILOSOPHICAL inquiries and
  • debates, where general truths are to be established, and consequences
  • drawn from positions laid down, there the precise signification of the
  • names of substances will be found not only not to be well established
  • but also very hard to be so. For example: he that shall make
  • malleability, or a certain degree of fixedness, a part of his complex
  • idea of gold, may make propositions concerning gold, and draw
  • consequences from them, that will truly and clearly follow from gold,
  • taken in such a signification: but yet such as another man can never
  • be forced to admit, nor be convinced of their truth, who makes not
  • malleableness, or the same degree of fixedness, part of that complex
  • idea that the name gold, in his use of it, stands for.
  • 16. Instance, Liquor.
  • This is a natural and almost unavoidable imperfection in almost all the
  • names of substances, in all languages whatsoever, which men will easily
  • find when, once passing from confused or loose notions, they come to
  • more strict and close inquiries. For then they will be convinced how
  • doubtful and obscure those words are in their signification, which in
  • ordinary use appeared very clear and determined. I was once in a meeting
  • of very learned and ingenious physicians, where by chance there arose a
  • question, whether any liquor passed through the filaments of the nerves.
  • The debate having been managed a good while, by variety of arguments on
  • both sides, I (who had been used to suspect, that the greatest part
  • of disputes were more about the signification of words than a real
  • difference in the conception of things) desired, that, before they went
  • any further on in this dispute, they would first examine and establish
  • amongst them, what the word LIQUOR signified. They at first were a
  • little surprised at the proposal; and had they been persons less
  • ingenious, they might perhaps have taken it for a very frivolous or
  • extravagant one: since there was no one there that thought not himself
  • to understand very perfectly what the word liquor stood for; which I
  • think, too, none of the most perplexed names of substances. However,
  • they were pleased to comply with my motion; and upon examination found
  • that the signification of that word was not so settled or certain
  • as they had all imagined; but that each of them made it a sign of a
  • different complex idea. This made them perceive that the main of their
  • dispute was about the signification of that term; and that they differed
  • very little in their opinions concerning SOME fluid and subtle matter,
  • passing through the conduits of the nerves; though it was not so easy
  • to agree whether it was to be called LIQUOR or no, a thing, which, when
  • considered, they thought it not worth the contending about.
  • 17. Instance, Gold.
  • How much this is the case in the greatest part of disputes that men are
  • engaged so hotly in, I shall perhaps have an occasion in another place
  • to take notice. Let us only here consider a little more exactly the
  • fore-mentioned instance of the word GOLD, and we shall see how hard it
  • is precisely to determine its signification. I think all agree to make
  • it stand for a body of a certain yellow shining colour; which being the
  • idea to which children have annexed that name, the shining yellow part
  • of a peacock's tail is properly to them gold. Others finding fusibility
  • joined with that yellow colour in certain parcels of matter, make of
  • that combination a complex idea to which they give the name gold, to
  • denote a sort of substances; and so exclude from being gold all such
  • yellow shining bodies as by fire will be reduced to ashes; and admit to
  • be of that species, or to be comprehended under that name gold, only
  • such substances as having that shining yellow colour, will by fire be
  • reduced to fusion, and not to ashes. Another, by the same reason, adds
  • the weight, which, being a quality as straightly joined with that colour
  • as its fusibility, he thinks has the same reason to be joined in its
  • idea, and to be signified by its name: and therefore the other made up
  • of body, of such a colour and fusibility, to be imperfect; and so on
  • of all the rest: wherein no one can show a reason why some of the
  • inseparable qualities, that are always united in nature, should be put
  • into the nominal essence, and others left out, or why the word gold,
  • signifying that sort of body the ring on his finger is made of, should
  • determine that sort rather by its colour, weight, and fusibility,
  • than by its colour, weight, and solubility in aqua regia: since the
  • dissolving it by that liquor is as inseparable from it as the fusion
  • by fire, and they are both of them nothing but the relation which
  • that substance has to two other bodies, which have a power to operate
  • differently upon it. For by what right is it that fusibility comes to be
  • a part of the essence signified by the word gold, and solubility but
  • a property of it? Or why is its colour part of the essence, and its
  • malleableness but a property? That which I mean is this, That these
  • being all but properties, depending on its real constitution, and
  • nothing but powers, either active or passive, in reference to other
  • bodies, no one has authority to determine the signification of the
  • word gold (as referred to such a body existing in nature) more to one
  • collection of ideas to be found in that body than to another: whereby
  • the signification of that name must unavoidably be very uncertain.
  • Since, as has been said, several people observe several properties in
  • the same substance; and I think I may say nobody all. And therefore we
  • have but very imperfect descriptions of things, and words have very
  • uncertain significations.
  • 18. The Names of simple Ideas the least doubtful.
  • From what has been said, it is easy to observe what has been before
  • remarked, viz. that the NAMES OF SIMPLE IDEAS are, of all others, the
  • least liable to mistakes, and that for these reasons. First, Because the
  • ideas they stand for, being each but one single perception, are much
  • easier got, and more clearly retained, than the more complex ones, and
  • therefore are not liable to the uncertainty which usually attends those
  • compounded ones of substances and mixed modes, in which the precise
  • number of simple ideas that make them up are not easily agreed, so
  • readily kept in mind. And, Secondly, Because they are never referred to
  • any other essence, but barely that perception they immediately signify:
  • which reference is that which renders the signification of the names
  • of substances naturally so perplexed, and gives occasion to so many
  • disputes. Men that do not perversely use their words, or on purpose set
  • themselves to cavil, seldom mistake, in any language which they are
  • acquainted with, the use and signification of the name of simple ideas.
  • WHITE and SWEET, YELLOW and BITTER, carry a very obvious meaning with
  • them, which every one precisely comprehends, or easily perceives he is
  • ignorant of, and seeks to be informed. But what precise collection of
  • simple ideas MODESTY or FRUGALITY stand for, in another's use, is not
  • so certainly known. And however we are apt to think we well enough know
  • what is meant by GOLD or IRON; yet the precise complex idea others make
  • them the signs of is not so certain: and I believe it is very seldom
  • that, in speaker and hearer, they stand for exactly the same collection.
  • Which must needs produce mistakes and disputes, when they are made use
  • of in discourses, wherein men have to do with universal propositions,
  • and would settle in their minds universal truths, and consider the
  • consequences that follow from them.
  • 19. And next to them, simple Modes.
  • By the same rule, the names of SIMPLE MODES are, next to those of simple
  • ideas, least liable to doubt and uncertainty; especially those of figure
  • and number, of which men have so clear and distinct ideas. Who ever that
  • had a mind to understand them mistook the ordinary meaning of SEVEN, or
  • a TRIANGLE? And in general the least compounded ideas in every kind have
  • the least dubious names.
  • 20. The most doubtful are the Names of very compounded mixed Modes and
  • Substances.
  • Mixed modes, therefore, that are made up but of a few and obvious simple
  • ideas, have usually names of no very uncertain signification. But the
  • names of mixed modes, which comprehend a great number of simple ideas,
  • are commonly of a very doubtful and undetermined meaning, as has been
  • shown. The names of substances, being annexed to ideas that are neither
  • the real essences, nor exact representations of the patterns they are
  • referred to, are liable to yet greater imperfection and uncertainty,
  • especially when we come to a philosophical use of them.
  • 21. Why this Imperfection charged upon Words.
  • The great disorder that happens in our names of substances, proceeding,
  • for the most part, from our want of knowledge, and inability to
  • penetrate into their real constitutions, it may probably be wondered
  • why I charge this as an imperfection rather upon our words than
  • understandings. This exception has so much appearance of justice, that I
  • think myself obliged to give a reason why I have followed this method.
  • I must confess, then, that, when I first began this Discourse of the
  • Understanding, and a good while after, I had not the least thought that
  • any consideration of words was at all necessary to it. But when, having
  • passed over the original and composition of our ideas, I began to
  • examine the extent and certainty of our knowledge, I found it had so
  • near a connexion with words, that, unless their force and manner of
  • signification were first well observed, there could be very little said
  • clearly and pertinently concerning knowledge: which being conversant
  • about truth, had constantly to do with propositions. And though it
  • terminated in things, yet it was for the most part so much by the
  • intervention of words, that they seemed scarce separable from our
  • general knowledge. At least they interpose themselves so much between
  • our understandings, and the truth which it would contemplate and
  • apprehend, that, like the medium through which visible objects pass, the
  • obscurity and disorder do not seldom cast a mist before our eyes, and
  • impose upon our understandings. If we consider, in the fallacies men put
  • upon themselves, as well as others, and the mistakes in men's disputes
  • and notions, how great a part is owing to words, and their uncertain or
  • mistaken significations, we shall have reason to think this no small
  • obstacle in the way to knowledge; which I conclude we are the more
  • carefully to be warned of, because it has been so far from being taken
  • notice of as an inconvenience, that the arts of improving it have
  • been made the business of men's study, and obtained the reputation of
  • learning and subtilty, as we shall see in the following chapter. But
  • I am apt to imagine, that, were the imperfections of language, as the
  • instrument of knowledge, more thoroughly weighed, a great many of the
  • controversies that make such a noise in the world, would of themselves
  • cease; and the way to knowledge, and perhaps peace too, lie a great deal
  • opener than it does.
  • 22. This should teach us Moderation in imposing our own Sense of old
  • Authors.
  • Sure I am that the signification of words in all languages, depending
  • very much on the thoughts, notions, and ideas of him that uses them,
  • must unavoidably be of great uncertainty to men of the same language and
  • country. This is so evident in the Greek authors, that he that shall
  • peruse their writings will find in almost every one of them, a distinct
  • language, though the same words. But when to this natural difficulty in
  • every country, there shall be added different countries and remote ages,
  • wherein the speakers and writers had very different notions, tempers,
  • customs, ornaments, and figures of speech, &c., every one of which
  • influenced the signification of their words then, though to us now they
  • are lost and unknown; it would become us to be charitable one to another
  • in our interpretations or misunderstandings of those ancient writings;
  • which, though of great concernment to be understood, are liable to the
  • unavoidable difficulties of speech, which (if we except the names of
  • simple ideas, and some very obvious things) is not capable, without a
  • constant defining the terms, of conveying the sense and intention of the
  • speaker, without any manner of doubt and uncertainty to the hearer. And
  • in discourses of religion, law, and morality, as they are matters of the
  • highest concernment, so there will be the greatest difficulty.
  • 23. Especially of the Old and New Testament Scriptures.
  • The volumes of interpreters and commentators on the Old and New
  • Testament are but too manifest proofs of this. Though everything said in
  • the text be infallibly true, yet the reader may be, nay, cannot choose
  • but be, very fallible in the understanding of it. Nor is it to be
  • wondered, that the will of God, when clothed in words, should be liable
  • to that doubt and uncertainty which unavoidably attends that sort of
  • conveyance, when even his Son, whilst clothed in flesh, was subject to
  • all the frailties and inconveniences of human nature, sin excepted. And
  • we ought to magnify his goodness, that he hath spread before all the
  • world such legible characters of his works and providence, and given all
  • mankind so sufficient a light of reason, that they to whom this written
  • word never came, could not (whenever they set themselves to search)
  • either doubt of the being of a God, or of the obedience due to him.
  • Since then the precepts of Natural Religion are plain, and very
  • intelligible to all mankind, and seldom come to be controverted; and
  • other revealed truths, which are conveyed to us by books and languages,
  • are liable to the common and natural obscurities and difficulties
  • incident to words; methinks it would become us to be more careful and
  • diligent in observing the former, and less magisterial, positive, and
  • imperious, in imposing our own sense and interpretations of the latter.
  • CHAPTER X.
  • OF THE ABUSE OF WORDS.
  • 1. Woeful abuse of Words.
  • Besides the imperfection that is naturally in language, and the
  • obscurity and confusion that is so hard to be avoided in the use of
  • words, there are several WILFUL faults and neglects which men are guilty
  • of in this way of communication, whereby they render these signs less
  • clear and distinct in their signification than naturally they need to
  • be.
  • 2. First, Words are often employed without any, or without clear Ideas.
  • FIRST, In this kind the first and most palpable abuse is, the using
  • of words without clear and distinct ideas; or, which is worse, signs
  • without anything signified. Of these there are two sorts:--
  • I. Some words introduced without clear ideas annexed to them, even in
  • their first original.
  • One may observe, in all languages, certain words that, if they be
  • examined, will be found in their first original, and their appropriated
  • use, not to stand for any clear and distinct ideas. These, for the most
  • part, the several sects of philosophy and religion have introduced. For
  • their authors or promoters, either affecting something singular, and out
  • of the way of common apprehensions, or to support some strange opinions,
  • or cover some weakness of their hypothesis, seldom fail to coin new
  • words, and such as, when they come to be examined, may justly be called
  • INSIGNIFICANT TERMS. For, having either had no determinate collection of
  • ideas annexed to them when they were first invented; or at least such
  • as, if well examined, will be found inconsistent, it is no wonder, if,
  • afterwards, in the vulgar use of the same party, they remain empty
  • sounds, with little or no signification, amongst those who think it
  • enough to have them often in their mouths, as the distinguishing
  • characters of their Church or School, without much troubling their heads
  • to examine what are the precise ideas they stand for. I shall not need
  • here to heap up instances; every man's reading and conversation will
  • sufficiently furnish him. Or if he wants to be better stored, the
  • great mint-masters of this kind of terms, I mean the Schoolmen and
  • Metaphysicians (under which I think the disputing natural and moral
  • philosophers of these latter ages may be comprehended) have wherewithal
  • abundantly to content him.
  • 3. II. Other Words, to which ideas were annexed at first, used
  • afterwards without distinct meanings.
  • Others there be who extend this abuse yet further, who take so little
  • care to lay by words, which, in their primary notation have scarce
  • any clear and distinct ideas which they are annexed to, that, by an
  • unpardonable negligence, they familiarly use words which the propriety
  • of language HAS affixed to very important ideas, without any distinct
  • meaning at all. WISDOM, GLORY, GRACE, &c., are words frequent enough in
  • every man's mouth; but if a great many of those who use them should be
  • asked what they mean by them, they would be at a stand, and not know
  • what to answer: a plain proof, that, though they have learned those
  • sounds, and have them ready at their tongues ends, yet there are no
  • determined ideas laid up in their minds, which are to be expressed to
  • others by them.
  • 4. This occasioned by men learning Names before they have the Ideas the
  • names belong to.
  • Men having been accustomed from their cradles to learn words which are
  • easily got and retained, before they knew or had framed the complex
  • ideas to which they were annexed, or which were to be found in the
  • things they were thought to stand for, they usually continue to do so
  • all their lives; and without taking the pains necessary to settle in
  • their minds determined ideas, they use their words for such unsteady and
  • confused notions as they have, contenting themselves with the same words
  • other people use; as if their very sound necessarily carried with it
  • constantly the same meaning. This, though men make a shift with in
  • the ordinary occurrences of life, where they find it necessary to be
  • understood, and therefore they make signs till they are so; yet this
  • insignificancy in their words, when they come to reason concerning
  • either their tenets or interest, manifestly fills their discourse with
  • abundance of empty unintelligible noise and jargon, especially in moral
  • matters, where the words for the most part standing for arbitrary and
  • numerous collections of ideas, not regularly and permanently united in
  • nature, their bare sounds are often only thought on, or at least very
  • obscure and uncertain notions annexed to them. Men take the words
  • they find in use amongst their neighbours; and that they may not seem
  • ignorant what they stand for, use them confidently, without much
  • troubling their heads about a certain fixed meaning; whereby, besides
  • the ease of it, they obtain this advantage, That, as in such discourses
  • they seldom are in the right, so they are as seldom to be convinced that
  • they are in the wrong; it being all one to go about to draw those men
  • out of their mistakes who have no settled notions, as to dispossess a
  • vagrant of his habitation who has no settled abode. This I guess to be
  • so; and every one may observe in himself and others whether it be so or
  • not.
  • 5. Secondly Unsteady Application of them.
  • SECONDLY, Another great abuse of words is INCONSTANCY in the use of
  • them. It is hard to find a discourse written on any subject, especially
  • of controversy, wherein one shall not observe, if he read with
  • attention, the same words (and those commonly the most material in the
  • discourse, and upon which the argument turns) used sometimes for one
  • collection of simple ideas, and sometimes for another; which is a
  • perfect abuse of language. Words being intended for signs of my ideas,
  • to make them known to others, not by any natural signification, but by
  • a voluntary imposition, it is plain cheat and abuse, when I make them
  • stand sometimes for one thing and sometimes for another; the wilful
  • doing whereof can be imputed to nothing but great folly, or greater
  • dishonesty. And a man, in his accounts with another may, with as much
  • fairness make the characters of numbers stand sometimes for one and
  • sometimes for another collection of units: v.g. this character 3, stand
  • sometimes for three, sometimes for four, and sometimes for eight, as
  • in his discourse or reasoning make the same words stand for different
  • collections of simple ideas. If men should do so in their reckonings, I
  • wonder who would have to do with them? One who would speak thus in the
  • affairs and business of the world, and call 8 sometimes seven, and
  • sometimes nine, as best served his advantage, would presently have
  • clapped upon him, one of the two names men are commonly disgusted with.
  • And yet in arguings and learned contests, the same sort of proceedings
  • passes commonly for wit and learning; but to me it appears a greater
  • dishonesty than the misplacing of counters in the casting up a debt; and
  • the cheat the greater, by how much truth is of greater concernment and
  • value than money.
  • 6. Thirdly, Affected Obscurity, as in the Peripatetic and other sects of
  • Philosophy.
  • THIRDLY. Another abuse of language is an AFFECTED OBSCURITY; by either
  • applying old words to new and unusual significations; or introducing new
  • and ambiguous terms, without defining either; or else putting them
  • so together, as may confound their ordinary meaning. Though the
  • Peripatetick philosophy has been most eminent in this way, yet other
  • sects have not been wholly clear of it. There are scarce any of them
  • that are not cumbered with some difficulties (such is the imperfection
  • of human knowledge,) which they have been fain to cover with obscurity
  • of terms, and to confound the signification of words, which, like a
  • mist before people's eyes, might hinder their weak parts from being
  • discovered. That BODY and EXTENSION in common use, stand for two
  • distinct ideas, is plain to any one that will but reflect a little. For
  • were their signification precisely the same, it would be as proper, and
  • as intelligible to say, 'the body of an extension,' as the 'extension of
  • a body;' and yet there are those who find it necessary to confound their
  • signification. To this abuse, and the mischiefs of confounding the
  • signification of words, logic, and the liberal sciences as they have
  • been handled in the schools, have given reputation; and the admired Art
  • of Disputing hath added much to the natural imperfection of languages,
  • whilst it has been made use of and fitted to perplex the signification
  • of words, more than to discover the knowledge and truth of things: and
  • he that will look into that sort of learned writings, will find the
  • words there much more obscure, uncertain, and undetermined in their
  • meaning, than they are in ordinary conversation.
  • 7. Logic and Dispute have much contributed to this.
  • This is unavoidably to be so, where men's parts and learning are
  • estimated by their skill in disputing. And if reputation and reward
  • shall attend these conquests, which depend mostly on the fineness and
  • niceties of words, it is no wonder if the wit of man so employed, should
  • perplex, involve, and subtilize the signification of sounds, so as never
  • to want something to say in opposing or defending any question; the
  • victory being adjudged not to him who had truth on his side, but the
  • last word in the dispute.
  • 8. Calling it Subtlety.
  • This, though a very useless skill, and that which I think the direct
  • opposite to the ways of knowledge, hath yet passed hitherto under the
  • laudable and esteemed names of SUBTLETY and ACUTENESS, and has had the
  • applause of the schools, and encouragement of one part of the learned
  • men of the world. And no wonder, since the philosophers of old, (the
  • disputing and wrangling philosophers I mean, such as Lucian wittily and
  • with reason taxes,) and the Schoolmen since, aiming at glory and esteem,
  • for their great and universal knowledge, easier a great deal to be
  • pretended to than really acquired, found this a good expedient to cover
  • their ignorance, with a curious and inexplicable web of perplexed words,
  • and procure to themselves the admiration of others, by unintelligible
  • terms, the apter to produce wonder because they could not be understood;
  • whilst it appears in all history, that these profound doctors were no
  • wiser nor more useful than their neighbours, and brought but small
  • advantage to human life or the societies wherein they lived; unless the
  • coining of new words, where they produced no new things to apply them
  • to, or the perplexing or obscuring the signification of old ones, and so
  • bringing all things into question and dispute, were a thing profitable
  • to the life of man, or worthy commendation and reward.
  • 9. This Learning very little benefits Society.
  • For, notwithstanding these learned disputants, these all-knowing
  • doctors, it was to the unscholastic statesman that the governments
  • of the world owed their peace, defence, and liberties; and from the
  • illiterate and contemned mechanic (a name of disgrace) that they
  • received the improvements of useful arts. Nevertheless, this artificial
  • ignorance, and learned gibberish, prevailed mightily in these last ages,
  • by the interest and artifice of those who found no easier way to that
  • pitch of authority and dominion they have attained, than by amusing
  • the men of business, and ignorant, with hard words, or employing the
  • ingenious and idle in intricate disputes about unintelligible terms, and
  • holding them perpetually entangled in that endless labyrinth. Besides,
  • there is no such way to gain admittance, or give defence to strange and
  • absurd doctrines, as to guard them round about with legions of obscure,
  • doubtful, and undefined words. Which yet make these retreats more like
  • the dens of robbers, or holes of foxes, than the fortresses of fair
  • warriors; which, if it be hard to get them out of, it is not for the
  • strength that is in them, but the briars and thorns, and the obscurity
  • of the thickets they are beset with. For untruth being unacceptable
  • to the mind of man, there is no other defence left for absurdity but
  • obscurity.
  • 10. But destroys the instruments of Knowledge and communication.
  • Thus learned ignorance, and this art of keeping even inquisitive men
  • from true knowledge, hath been propagated in the world, and hath much
  • perplexed, whilst it pretended to inform the understanding. For we see
  • that other well-meaning and wise men, whose education and parts had not
  • acquired that ACUTENESS, could intelligibly express themselves to one
  • another; and in its plain use make a benefit of language. But though
  • unlearned men well enough understood the words white and black; &c., and
  • had constant notions of the ideas signified by those words; yet there
  • were philosophers found who had learning and subtlety enough to prove
  • that snow was black; i.e. to prove that white was black. Whereby they
  • had the advantage to destroy the instruments and means of discourse,
  • conversation, instruction, and society; whilst, with great art and
  • subtlety, they did no more but perplex and confound the signification of
  • words, and thereby render language less useful than the real defects of
  • it had made it; a gift which the illiterate had not attained to.
  • 11. As useful as to confound the sound that the Letters of the Alphabet
  • stand for.
  • These learned men did equally instruct men's understandings, and
  • profit their lives, as he who should alter the signification of known
  • characters, and, by a subtle device of learning, far surpassing the
  • capacity of the illiterate, dull, and vulgar, should in his writing show
  • that he could put A for B, and D for E, &c., to the no small admiration
  • and benefit of for his reader. It being as senseless to put BLACK,
  • which is a word agreed on to stand for one sensible idea, to put it, I
  • say, for another, or the contrary idea; i.e. to call SNOW BLACK, as
  • to put this mark A, which is a character agreed on to stand for one
  • modification of sound, made by a certain motion of the organs of speech,
  • for B, which is agreed on to stand for another modification of sound,
  • made by another certain mode of the organs of speech.
  • 12. This Art has perplexed Religion and Justice.
  • Nor hath this mischief stopped in logical niceties, or curious empty
  • speculations; it hath invaded the great concernments of human life and
  • society; obscured and perplexed the material truths of law and divinity;
  • brought confusion, disorder, and uncertainty into the affairs of
  • mankind; and if not destroyed, yet in a great measure rendered useless,
  • these two great rules, religion and justice. What have the greatest part
  • of the comments and disputes upon the laws of God and man served for,
  • but to make the meaning more doubtful, and perplex the sense? What have
  • been the effect of those multiplied curious distinctions, and acute
  • niceties, but obscurity and uncertainty, leaving the words more
  • unintelligible, and the reader more at a loss? How else comes it to pass
  • that princes, speaking or writing to their servants, in their ordinary
  • commands are easily understood; speaking to their people, in their laws,
  • are not so? And, as I remarked before, doth it not often happen that a
  • man of an ordinary capacity very well understands a text, or a law, that
  • he reads, till he consults an expositor, or goes to counsel; who, by
  • that time he hath done explaining them, makes the words signify either
  • nothing at all, or what he pleases.
  • 13. and ought not to pass for Learning.
  • Whether any by-interests of these professions have occasioned this, I
  • will not here examine; but I leave it to be considered, whether it would
  • not be well for mankind, whose concernment it is to know things as they
  • are, and to do what they ought, and not to spend their lives in talking
  • about them, or tossing words to and fro;--whether it would not be well,
  • I say, that the use of words were made plain and direct; and that
  • language, which was given us for the improvement of knowledge and bond
  • of society, should not be employed to darken truth and unsettle people's
  • rights; to raise mists, and render unintelligible both morality and
  • religion? Or that at least, if this will happen, it should not be
  • thought learning or knowledge to do so?
  • 14. IV. Fourthly, by taking Words for Things.
  • FOURTHLY, Another great abuse of words is, the TAKING THEM FOR THINGS.
  • This, though it in some degree concerns all names in general, yet more
  • particularly affects those of substances. To this abuse those men are
  • most subject who most confine their thoughts to any one system, and
  • give themselves up into a firm belief of the perfection of any received
  • hypothesis: whereby they come to be persuaded that the terms of that
  • sect are so suited to the nature of things, that they perfectly
  • correspond with their real existence. Who is there that has been bred up
  • in the Peripatetick philosophy, who does not think the Ten Names, under
  • which are ranked the Ten Predicaments, to be exactly conformable to the
  • nature of things? Who is there of that school that is not persuaded that
  • SUBSTANTIAL FORMS, VEGETATIVE SOULS, ABHORRENCE OF A VACUUM, INTENTIONAL
  • SPECIES, &c., are something real? These words men have learned from
  • their very entrance upon knowledge, and have found their masters and
  • systems lay great stress upon them: and therefore they cannot quit
  • the opinion, that they are conformable to nature, and are the
  • representations of something that really exists. The Platonists have
  • their SOUL OF THE WORLD, and the Epicureans their ENDEAVOR TOWARDS
  • MOTION in their atoms when at rest. There is scarce any sect in
  • philosophy has not a distinct set of terms that others understand not.
  • But yet this gibberish, which, in the weakness of human understanding,
  • serves so well to palliate men's ignorance, and cover their errors,
  • comes, by familiar use amongst those of the same tribe, to seem the
  • most important part of language, and of all other the terms the most
  • significant: and should AERIAL and OETHERIAL VEHICLES come once, by the
  • prevalency of that doctrine, to be generally received anywhere, no doubt
  • those terms would make impressions on men's minds, so as to establish
  • them in the persuasion of the reality of such things, as much as
  • Peripatetick FORMS and INTENTIONAL SPECIES have heretofore done. 15.
  • Instance, in Matter.
  • How much names taken for things are apt to mislead the understanding,
  • the attentive reading of philosophical writers would abundantly
  • discover; and that perhaps in words little suspected of any such misuse.
  • I shall instance in one only, and that a very familiar one. How many
  • intricate disputes have there been about MATTER, as if there were some
  • such thing really in nature, distinct from BODY; as it is evident the
  • word matter stands for an idea distinct from the idea of body? For if
  • the ideas these two terms stood for were precisely the same, they might
  • indifferently in all places be put for one another. But we see that
  • though it be proper to say, There is one matter of all bodies, one
  • cannot say, There is one body of all matters: we familiarly say one body
  • is bigger than another; but it sounds harsh (and I think is never used)
  • to say one matter is bigger than another. Whence comes this, then? Viz.
  • from hence: that, though matter and body be not really distinct, but
  • wherever there is the one there is the other; yet matter and body stand
  • for two different conceptions, whereof the one is incomplete, and but
  • a part of the other. For body stands for a solid extended figured
  • substance, whereof matter is but a partial and more confused conception;
  • it seeming to me to be used for the substance and solidity of body,
  • without taking in its extension and figure: and therefore it is that,
  • speaking of matter, we speak of it always as one, because in truth it
  • expressly contains nothing but the idea of a solid substance, which is
  • everywhere the same, everywhere uniform. This being our idea of matter,
  • we no more conceive or speak of different MATTERS in the world than
  • we do of different solidities; though we both conceive and speak of
  • different bodies, because extension and figure are capable of variation.
  • But, since solidity cannot exist without extension and figure, the
  • taking matter to be the name of something really existing under that
  • precision, has no doubt produced those obscure and unintelligible
  • discourses and disputes, which have filled the heads and books of
  • philosophers concerning materia prima; which imperfection or abuse,
  • how far it may concern a great many other general terms I leave to be
  • considered. This, I think, I may at least say, that we should have a
  • great many fewer disputes in the world, if words were taken for what
  • they are, the signs of our ideas only; and not for things themselves.
  • For, when we argue about MATTER, or any the like term, we truly argue
  • only about the idea we express by that sound, whether that precise idea
  • agree to anything really existing in nature or no. And if men would tell
  • what ideas they make their words stand for, there could not be half that
  • obscurity or wrangling in the search or support of truth that there is.
  • 16. This makes Errors lasting.
  • But whatever inconvenience follows from this mistake of words, this I am
  • sure, that, by constant and familiar use, they charm men into notions
  • far remote from the truth of things. It would be a hard matter to
  • persuade any one that the words which his father, or schoolmaster, the
  • parson of the parish, or such a reverend doctor used, signified nothing
  • that really existed in nature: which perhaps is none of the least causes
  • that men are so hardly drawn to quit their mistakes, even in opinions
  • purely philosophical, and where they have no other interest but truth.
  • For the words they have a long time been used to, remaining firm in
  • their minds, it is no wonder that the wrong notions annexed to them
  • should not be removed.
  • 17. Fifthly, by setting them in the place of what they cannot signify.
  • V. FIFTHLY, Another abuse of words is, THE SETTING THEM IN THE PLACE OF
  • THINGS WHICH THEY DO OR CAN BY NO MEANS SIGNIFY. We may observe that, in
  • the general names of substances, whereof the NOMINAL essences are only
  • known to us, when we put them into propositions, and affirm or deny
  • anything about them, we do most commonly tacitly suppose or intend, they
  • should stand for the REAL essence of a certain sort of substances.
  • For, when a man says gold is malleable, he means and would insinuate
  • something more than this, That what I call gold is malleable, (though
  • truly it amounts to no more,) but would have this understood, viz.
  • That gold, i.e. what has the real essence of gold, is malleable; which
  • amounts to thus much, that malleableness depends on, and is inseparable
  • from the real essence of gold. But a man, not knowing wherein that real
  • essence consists, the connexion in his mind of malleableness is not
  • truly with an essence he knows not, but only with the sound gold he puts
  • for it. Thus, when we say that ANIMAL RATIONALE is, and animal imflume
  • bipes latis unguibus is not a good definition of a man; it is plain we
  • suppose the name man in this case to stand for the real essence of a
  • species, and would signify that 'a rational animal' better described
  • that real essence than 'a two-legged animal with broad nails, and
  • without feathers.' For else, why might not Plato as properly make the
  • word [word in Greek], or MAN, stand for his complex idea, made up of the
  • idea of a body, distinguished from others by a certain shape and other
  • outward appearances, as Aristotle make the complex idea to which he gave
  • the name [word in Greek], or MAN, of body and the faculty of reasoning
  • joined together; unless the name [word in Greek], or MAN, were supposed
  • to stand for something else than what it signifies; and to be put in the
  • place of some other thing than the idea a man professes he would express
  • by it?
  • 18. VI. Putting them for the real Essences of Substances.
  • It is true the names of substances would be much more useful, and
  • propositions made in them much more certain, were the real essences of
  • substances the ideas in our minds which those words signified. And it
  • is for want of those real essences that our words convey so little
  • knowledge or certainty in our discourses about them; and therefore the
  • mind, to remove that imperfection as much as it can, makes them, by a
  • secret supposition, to stand for a thing having that real essence, as if
  • thereby it made some nearer approaches to it. For, though the word MAN
  • or GOLD signify nothing truly but a complex idea of properties united
  • together in one sort of substances; yet there is scarce anybody, in the
  • use of these words, but often supposes each of those names to stand for
  • a thing having the real essence on which these properties depend. Which
  • is so far from diminishing the imperfection of our words, that by a
  • plain abuse it adds to it, when we would make them stand for something,
  • which, not being in our complex idea, the name we use can no ways be the
  • sign of.
  • 19. Hence we think Change of our Complex Ideas of Substances not to
  • change their Species.
  • This shows us the reason why in MIXED MODES any of the ideas that make
  • the composition of the complex one being left out or changed, it is
  • allowed to be another thing, i.e. to be of another species, as is plain
  • in CHANCE-MEDLEY, MANSLAUGHTER, MURDER, PARRICIDE, &c. The reason
  • whereof is, because the complex idea signified by that name is the real
  • as well as nominal essence; and there is no secret reference of that
  • name to any other essence but that. But in SUBSTANCES, it is not so. For
  • though in that called GOLD, one puts into his complex idea what another
  • leaves out, and vice versa: yet men do not usually think that therefore
  • the species is changed: because they secretly in their minds refer that
  • name, and suppose it annexed to a real immutable essence of a thing
  • existing, on which those properties depend. He that adds to his complex
  • idea of gold that of fixedness and solubility in AQUA REGIA, which he
  • put not in it before, is not thought to have changed the species; but
  • only to have a more perfect idea, by adding another simple idea, which
  • is always in fact joined with those other, of which his former complex
  • idea consisted. But this reference of the name to a thing, whereof we
  • have not the idea, is so far from helping at all, that it only serves
  • the more to involve us in difficulties. For by this tacit reference to
  • the real essence of that species of bodies, the word GOLD (which, by
  • standing for a more or less perfect collection of simple ideas, serves
  • to design that sort of body well enough in civil discourse) comes to
  • have no signification at all, being put for somewhat whereof we have no
  • idea at all, and so can signify nothing at all, when the body itself is
  • away. For however it may be thought all one, yet, if well considered, it
  • will be found a quite different thing, to argue about gold in name, and
  • about a parcel in the body itself, v.g. a piece of leaf-gold laid before
  • us; though in discourse we are fain to substitute the name for the
  • thing.
  • 20. The Cause of this Abuse, a supposition of Nature's working always
  • regularly, in setting boundaries to Species.
  • That which I think very much disposes men to substitute their names for
  • the real essences of species, is the supposition before mentioned,
  • that nature works regularly in the production of things, and sets the
  • boundaries to each of those species, by giving exactly the same real
  • internal constitution to each individual which we rank under one general
  • name. Whereas any one who observes their different qualities can hardly
  • doubt, that many of the individuals, called by the same name, are, in
  • their internal constitution, as different one from another as several of
  • those which are ranked under different specific names. This supposition,
  • however, that the same precise and internal constitution goes always
  • with the same specific name, makes men forward to take those names for
  • the representatives of those real essences; though indeed they signify
  • nothing but the complex ideas they have in their minds when they use
  • them. So that, if I may so say, signifying one thing, and being supposed
  • for, or put in the place of another, they cannot but, in such a kind of
  • use, cause a great deal of uncertainty in men's discourses; especially
  • in those who have thoroughly imbibed the doctrine of SUBSTANTIAL
  • FORMS, whereby they firmly imagine the several species of things to be
  • determined and distinguished.
  • 21. This Abuse contains two false Suppositions.
  • But however preposterous and absurd it be to make our names stand for
  • ideas we have not, or (which is all one) essences that we know not,
  • it being in effect to make our words the signs of nothing; yet it is
  • evident to any one who ever so little reflects on the use men make
  • of their words, that there is nothing more familiar. When a man asks
  • whether this or that thing he sees, let it be a drill, or a monstrous
  • foetus, be a MAN or no; it is evident the question is not, Whether that
  • particular thing agree to his complex idea expressed by the name man:
  • but whether it has in it the real essence of a species of things which
  • he supposes his name man to stand for. In which way of using the names
  • of substances, there are these false suppositions contained:--
  • First, that there are certain precise essences according to which nature
  • makes all particular things, and by which they are distinguished into
  • species. That everything has a real constitution, whereby it is what it
  • is, and on which its sensible qualities depend, is past doubt: but I
  • think it has been proved that this makes not the distinction of species
  • as WE rank them, nor the boundaries of their names.
  • Secondly, this tacitly also insinuates, as if we had IDEAS of these
  • proposed essences. For to what purpose else is it, to inquire whether
  • this or that thing have the real essence of the species man, if we did
  • not suppose that there were such a specifick essence known? Which yet
  • is utterly false. And therefore such application of names as would make
  • them stand for ideas which we have not, must needs cause great disorder
  • in discourses and reasonings about them, and be a great inconvenience in
  • our communication by words.
  • 22. VI. Sixthly, by proceeding upon the supposition that the words we
  • use have a certain and evident Signification which other men cannot but
  • understand.
  • SIXTHLY, there remains yet another more general, though perhaps less
  • observed, abuse of words; and that is, that men having by a long and
  • familiar use annexed to them certain ideas, they are apt to imagine SO
  • NEAR AND NECESSARY A CONNEXION BETWEEN THE NAMES AND SIGNIFICATION THEY
  • USE THEM IN, that they forwardly suppose one cannot but understand what
  • their meaning is; and therefore one ought to acquiesce in the words
  • delivered, as if it were past doubt that, in the use of those common
  • received sounds, the speaker and hearer had necessarily the same precise
  • ideas. Whence presuming, that when they have in discourse used any term,
  • they have thereby, as it were, set before others the very thing they
  • talked of. And so likewise taking the words of others, as naturally
  • standing for just what they themselves have been accustomed to apply
  • them to, they never trouble themselves to explain their own, or
  • understand clearly others' meaning. From whence commonly proceeds noise,
  • and wrangling, without improvement or information; whilst men take words
  • to be the constant regular marks of agreed notions, which in truth are
  • no more but the voluntary and unsteady signs of their own ideas. And yet
  • men think it strange, if in discourse, or (where it is often absolutely
  • necessary) in dispute, one sometimes asks the meaning of their terms:
  • though the arguings one may every day observe in conversation make it
  • evident, that there are few names of complex ideas which any two men use
  • for the same just precise collection. It is hard to name a word which
  • will not be a clear instance of this. LIFE is a term, none more
  • familiar. Any one almost would take it for an affront to be asked what
  • he meant by it. And yet if it comes in question, whether a plant that
  • lies ready formed in the seed have life; whether the embryo in an egg
  • before incubation, or a man in a swoon without sense or motion, be alive
  • or no; it is easy to perceive that a clear, distinct, settled idea does
  • not always accompany the use of so known a word as that of life is. Some
  • gross and confused conceptions men indeed ordinarily have, to which they
  • apply the common words of their language; and such a loose use of their
  • words serves them well enough in their ordinary discourses or affairs.
  • But this is not sufficient for philosophical inquiries. Knowledge and
  • reasoning require precise determinate ideas. And though men will not
  • be so importunately dull as not to understand what others say, without
  • demanding an explication of their terms; nor so troublesomely critical
  • as to correct others in the use of the words they receive from them:
  • yet, where truth and knowledge are concerned in the case, I know not
  • what fault it can be, to desire the explication of words whose sense
  • seems dubious; or why a man should be ashamed to own his ignorance in
  • what sense another man uses his words; since he has no other way of
  • certainly knowing it but by being informed. This abuse of taking words
  • upon trust has nowhere spread so far, nor with so ill effects, as
  • amongst men of letters. The multiplication and obstinacy of disputes,
  • which have so laid waste the intellectual world, is owing to nothing
  • more than to this ill use of words. For though it be generally believed
  • that there is great diversity of opinions in the volumes and variety of
  • controversies the world is distracted with; yet the most I can find that
  • the contending learned men of different parties do, in their arguings
  • one with another, is, that they speak different languages. For I am apt
  • to imagine, that when any of them, quitting terms, think upon things,
  • and know what they think, they think all the same: though perhaps what
  • they would have be different.
  • 23. The Ends of Language: First, To convey our Ideas.
  • To conclude this consideration of the imperfection and abuse of
  • language. The ends of language in our discourse with others being
  • chiefly these three: First, to make known one man's thoughts or ideas to
  • another; Secondly, to do so with as much ease and quickness as possible;
  • and, Thirdly, thereby to convey the knowledge of things: language is
  • either abused or deficient, when it fails of any of these three.
  • First, Words fail in the first of these ends, and lay not open one man's
  • ideas to another's view: 1. When men have names in their mouths without
  • any determinate ideas in their minds whereof they are the signs: or, 2.
  • When they apply the common received names of any language to ideas, to
  • which the common use of that language does not apply them: or 3. When
  • they apply them very unsteadily, making them stand now for one, and by
  • and by for another idea.
  • 24. Secondly, To do it with Quickness.
  • Secondly, Men fail of conveying their thoughts with the quickness and
  • ease that may be, when they have complex ideas without having any
  • distinct names for them. This is sometimes the fault of the language
  • itself, which has not in it a sound yet applied to such a signification;
  • and sometimes the fault of the man, who has not yet learned the name for
  • that idea he would show another.
  • 25. Thirdly, Therewith to convey the Knowledge of Things.
  • Thirdly, there is no knowledge of things conveyed by men's words, when
  • their ideas agree not to the reality of things. Though it be a defect
  • that has its original in our ideas, which are not so conformable to the
  • nature of things as attention, study and application might make them,
  • yet it fails not to extend itself to our words too, when we use them as
  • signs of real beings, which yet never had any reality or existence.
  • 26. How Men's Words fail in all these: First, when used without any
  • ideas.
  • First, He that hath words of any language, without distinct ideas in
  • his mind to which he applies them, does, so far as he uses them in
  • discourse, only make a noise without any sense or signification; and how
  • learned soever he may seem, by the use of hard words or learned terms,
  • is not much more advanced thereby in knowledge, than he would be in
  • learning, who had nothing in his study but the bare titles of books,
  • without possessing the contents of them. For all such words, however
  • put into discourse, according to the right construction of grammatical
  • rules, or the harmony of well-turned periods, do yet amount to nothing
  • but bare sounds, and nothing else.
  • 27. Secondly, when complex ideas are without names annexed to them.
  • Secondly, He that has complex ideas, without particular names for them,
  • would be in no better case than a bookseller, who had in his warehouse
  • volumes that lay there unbound, and without titles, which he could
  • therefore make known to others only by showing the loose sheets, and
  • communicate them only by tale. This man is hindered in his discourse,
  • for want of words to communicate his complex ideas, which he is
  • therefore forced to make known by an enumeration of the simple ones that
  • compose them; and so is fain often to use twenty words, to express what
  • another man signifies in one.
  • 28. Thirdly, when the same sign is not put for the same idea.
  • Thirdly, He that puts not constantly the same sign for the same idea,
  • but uses the same word sometimes in one and sometimes in another
  • signification, ought to pass in the schools and conversation for as fair
  • a man, as he does in the market and exchange, who sells several things
  • under the same name.
  • 29. Fourthly, when words are diverted from their common use.
  • Fourthly, He that applies the words of any language to ideas different
  • from those to which the common use of that country applies them, however
  • his own understanding may be filled with truth and light, will not by
  • such words be able to convey much of it to others, without defining his
  • terms. For however the sounds are such as are familiarly known, and
  • easily enter the ears of those who are accustomed to them; yet standing
  • for other ideas than those they usually are annexed to, and are wont to
  • excite in the mind of the hearers, they cannot make known the thoughts
  • of him who thus uses them.
  • 30. Fifthly, when they are names of fantastical imaginations.
  • Fifthly, He that imagined to himself substances such as never have been,
  • and filled his head with ideas which have not any correspondence with
  • the real nature of things, to which yet he gives settled and defined
  • names, may fill his discourse, and perhaps another man's head, with the
  • fantastical imaginations of his own brain, but will be very far from
  • advancing thereby one jot in real and true knowledge.
  • 31. Summary.
  • He that hath names without ideas, wants meaning in his words, and speaks
  • only empty sounds. He that hath complex ideas without names for them,
  • wants liberty and dispatch in his expressions, and is necessitated to
  • use periphrases. He that uses his words loosely and unsteadily will
  • either be not minded or not understood. He that applies his names to
  • ideas different from their common use, wants propriety in his language,
  • and speaks gibberish. And he that hath the ideas of substances
  • disagreeing with the real existence of things, so far wants the
  • materials of true knowledge in his understanding, and hath instead
  • thereof chimeras.
  • 32. How men's words fail when they stand for Substances.
  • In our notions concerning Substances, we are liable to all the former
  • inconveniences: v. g. he that uses the word TARANTULA, without having
  • any imagination or idea of what it stands for, pronounces a good
  • word; but so long means nothing at all by it. 2. He that, in a
  • newly-discovered country, shall see several sorts of animals and
  • vegetables, unknown to him before, may have as true ideas of them, as of
  • a horse or a stag; but can speak of them only by a description, till he
  • shall either take the names the natives call them by, or give them names
  • himself. 3. He that uses the word BODY sometimes for pure extension,
  • and sometimes for extension and solidity together, will talk very
  • fallaciously. 4. He that gives the name HORSE to that idea which common
  • usage calls MULE, talks improperly, and will not be understood. 5. He
  • that thinks the name CENTAUR stands for some real being, imposes on
  • himself, and mistakes words for things.
  • 33. How when they stand for Modes and Relations.
  • In Modes and Relations generally, we are liable only to the four first
  • of these inconveniences; viz. 1. I may have in my memory the names of
  • modes, as GRATITUDE or CHARITY, and yet not have any precise ideas
  • annexed in my thoughts to those names, 2. I may have ideas, and not know
  • the names that belong to them: v. g. I may have the idea of a man's
  • drinking till his colour and humour be altered, till his tongue trips,
  • and his eyes look red, and his feet fail him; and yet not know that
  • it is to be called DRUNKENNESS. 3. I may have the ideas of virtues or
  • vices, and names also, but apply them amiss: v. g. when I apply the name
  • FRUGALITY to that idea which others call and signify by this sound,
  • COVETOUSNESS. 4. I may use any of those names with inconstancy. 5. But,
  • in modes and relations, I cannot have ideas disagreeing to the existence
  • of things: for modes being complex ideas, made by the mind at pleasure,
  • and relation being but by way of considering or comparing two things
  • together, and so also an idea of my own making, these ideas can scarce
  • be found to disagree with anything existing; since they are not in the
  • mind as the copies of things regularly made by nature, nor as properties
  • inseparably flowing from the internal constitution or essence of any
  • substance; but, as it were, patterns lodged in my memory, with names
  • annexed to them, to denominate actions and relations by, as they come
  • to exist. But the mistake is commonly in my giving a wrong name to my
  • conceptions; and so using words in a different sense from other people:
  • I am not understood, but am thought to have wrong ideas of them, when I
  • give wrong names to them. Only if I put in my ideas of mixed modes or
  • relations any inconsistent ideas together, I fill my head also with
  • chimeras; since such ideas, if well examined, cannot so much as exist in
  • the mind, much less any real being ever be denominated from them.
  • 34. Seventhly, Language is often abused by Figurative Speech.
  • Since wit and fancy find easier entertainment in the world than dry
  • truth and real knowledge, figurative speeches and allusion in language
  • will hardly be admitted as an imperfection or abuse of it. I confess, in
  • discourses where we seek rather pleasure and delight than information
  • and improvement, such ornaments as are borrowed from them can scarce
  • pass for faults. But yet if we would speak of things as they are, we
  • must allow that all the art of rhetoric, besides order and clearness;
  • all the artificial and figurative application of words eloquence hath
  • invented, are for nothing else but to insinuate wrong ideas, move the
  • passions, and thereby mislead the judgment; and so indeed are perfect
  • cheats: and therefore, however laudable or allowable oratory may render
  • them in harangues and popular addresses, they are certainly, in all
  • discourses that pretend to inform or instruct, wholly to be avoided; and
  • where truth and knowledge are concerned, cannot but be thought a great
  • fault, either of the language or person that makes use of them. What and
  • how various they are, will be superfluous here to take notice; the books
  • of rhetoric which abound in the world, will instruct those who want to
  • be informed: only I cannot but observe how little the preservation and
  • improvement of truth and knowledge is the care and concern of mankind;
  • since the arts of fallacy are endowed and preferred. It is evident how
  • much men love to deceive and be deceived, since rhetoric, that powerful
  • instrument of error and deceit, has its established professors, is
  • publicly taught, and has always been had in great reputation: and I
  • doubt not but it will be thought great boldness, if not brutality, in me
  • to have said thus much against it. Eloquence, like the fair sex, has too
  • prevailing beauties in it to suffer itself ever to be spoken against.
  • And it is in vain to find fault with those arts of deceiving, wherein
  • men find pleasure to be deceived.
  • CHAPTER XI.
  • OF THE REMEDIES OF THE FOREGOING IMPERFECTIONS AND ABUSES OF WORDS.
  • 1. Remedies are worth seeking.
  • The natural and improved imperfections of languages we have seen above
  • at large: and speech being the great bond that holds society together,
  • and the common conduit, whereby the improvements of knowledge are
  • conveyed from one man and one generation to another, it would well
  • deserve our most serious thoughts to consider, what remedies are to be
  • found for the inconveniences above mentioned.
  • 2. Are not easy to find.
  • I am not so vain as to think that any one can pretend to attempt the
  • perfect reforming the languages of the world, no not so much as of his
  • own country, without rendering himself ridiculous. To require that men
  • should use their words constantly in the same sense, and for none but
  • determined and uniform ideas, would be to think that all men should have
  • the same notions, and should talk of nothing but what they have clear
  • and distinct ideas of: which is not to be expected by any one who hath
  • not vanity enough to imagine he can prevail with men to be very knowing
  • or very silent. And he must be very little skilled in the world, who
  • thinks that a voluble tongue shall accompany only a good understanding;
  • or that men's talking much or little should hold proportion only to
  • their knowledge.
  • 3. But yet necessary to those who search after Truth.
  • But though the market and exchange must be left to their own ways of
  • talking, and gossipings not be robbed of their ancient privilege: though
  • the schools, and men of argument would perhaps take it amiss to have
  • anything offered, to abate the length or lessen the number of their
  • disputes; yet methinks those who pretend seriously to search after or
  • maintain truth, should think themselves obliged to study how they might
  • deliver themselves without obscurity, doubtfulness, or equivocation, to
  • which men's words are naturally liable, if care be not taken.
  • 4. Misuse of Words the great Cause of Errors.
  • For he that shall well consider the errors and obscurity, the mistakes
  • and confusion, that are spread in the world by an ill use of words, will
  • find some reason to doubt whether language, as it has been employed, has
  • contributed more to the improvement or hindrance of knowledge amongst
  • mankind. How many are there, that, when they would think on things, fix
  • their thoughts only on words, especially when they would apply their
  • minds to moral matters? And who then can wonder if the result of such
  • contemplations and reasonings, about little more than sounds, whilst the
  • ideas they annex to them are very confused and very unsteady, or perhaps
  • none at all; who can wonder, I say, that such thoughts and reasonings
  • end in nothing but obscurity and mistake, without any clear judgment or
  • knowledge?
  • 5. Has made men more conceited and obstinate.
  • This inconvenience, in an ill use of words, men suffer in their own
  • private meditations: but much more manifest are the disorders which
  • follow from it, in conversation, discourse, and arguings with others.
  • For language being the great conduit, whereby men convey their
  • discoveries, reasonings, and knowledge, from one to another, he that
  • makes an ill use of it, though he does not corrupt the fountains of
  • knowledge, which are in things themselves, yet he does, as much as in
  • him lies, break or stop the pipes whereby it is distributed to the
  • public use and advantage of mankind. He that uses words without any
  • clear and steady meaning, what does he but lead himself and others into
  • errors? And he that designedly does it, ought to be looked on as an
  • enemy to truth and knowledge. And yet who can wonder that all the
  • sciences and parts of knowledge have been so overcharged with obscure
  • and equivocal terms, and insignificant and doubtful expressions, capable
  • to make the most attentive or quick-sighted very little, or not at
  • all, the more knowing or orthodox: since subtlety, in those who make
  • profession to teach or defend truth, hath passed so much for a virtue: a
  • virtue, indeed, which, consisting for the most part in nothing but the
  • fallacious and illusory use of obscure or deceitful terms, is only fit
  • to make men more conceited in their ignorance, and more obstinate in
  • their errors.
  • 6. Addicted to Wrangling about sounds.
  • Let us look into the books of controversy of any kind, there we shall
  • see that the effect of obscure, unsteady, or equivocal terms is nothing
  • but noise and wrangling about sounds, without convincing or bettering
  • a man's understanding. For if the idea be not agreed on, betwixt the
  • speaker and hearer, for which the words stand, the argument is not about
  • things, but names. As often as such a word whose signification is not
  • ascertained betwixt them, comes in use, their understandings have no
  • other object wherein they agree, but barely the sound; the things that
  • they think on at that time, as expressed by that word, being quite
  • different.
  • 7. Instance, Bat and Bird.
  • Whether a BAT be a BIRD or no, is not a question, Whether a bat be
  • another thing than indeed it is, or have other qualities than indeed it
  • has; for that would be extremely absurd to doubt of. But the question
  • is, (i) Either between those that acknowledged themselves to have but
  • imperfect ideas of one or both of this sort of things, for which these
  • names are supposed to stand. And then it is a real inquiry concerning
  • the NATURE of a bird or a bat, to make their yet imperfect ideas of
  • it more complete; by examining whether all the simple ideas to which,
  • combined together, they both give name bird, be all to be found in
  • a bat: but this is a question only of inquirers (not disputers) who
  • neither affirm nor deny, but examine: Or, (2) It is a question between
  • disputants; whereof the one affirms, and the other denies that a bat is
  • a bird. And then the question is barely about the signification of one
  • or both these WORDS; in that they not having both the same complex ideas
  • to which they give these two names, one holds and the other denies, that
  • these two names may be affirmed one of another. Were they agreed in the
  • signification of these two names, it were impossible they should dispute
  • about them. For they would presently and clearly see (were that adjusted
  • between them,) whether all the simple ideas of the more general name
  • bird were found in the complex idea of a bat or no; and so there could
  • be no doubt whether a bat were a bird or no. And here I desire it may
  • be considered, and carefully examined, whether the greatest part of the
  • disputes in the world are not merely verbal, and about the signification
  • of words; and whether, if the terms they are made in were defined, and
  • reduced in their signification (as they must be where they signify
  • anything) to determined collections of the simple ideas they do or
  • should stand for, those disputes would not end of themselves, and
  • immediately vanish. I leave it then to be considered, what the learning
  • of disputation is, and how well they are employed for the advantage of
  • themselves or others, whose business is only the vain ostentation of
  • sounds; i. e. those who spend their lives in disputes and controversies.
  • When I shall see any of those combatants strip all his terms of
  • ambiguity and obscurity, (which every one may do in the words he uses
  • himself,) I shall think him a champion for knowledge, truth, and peace,
  • and not the slave of vain-glory, ambition, or a party.
  • 8. Remedies.
  • To remedy the defects of speech before mentioned to some degree, and
  • to prevent the inconveniences that follow from them, I imagine the
  • observation of these following rules may be of use, till somebody better
  • able shall judge it worth his while to think more maturely on this
  • matter, and oblige the world with his thoughts on it.
  • First Remedy: To use no Word without an Idea annexed to it.
  • First, A man shall take care to use no word without a signification, no
  • name without an idea for which he makes it stand. This rule will
  • not seem altogether needless to any one who shall take the pains to
  • recollect how often he has met with such words as INSTINCT, SYMPATHY,
  • and ANTIPATHY, &c., in the discourse of others, so made use of as he
  • might easily conclude that those that used them had no ideas in their
  • minds to which they applied them, but spoke them only as sounds, which
  • usually served instead of reasons on the like occasions. Not but that
  • these words, and the like, have very proper significations in which they
  • may be used; but there being no natural connexion between any words and
  • any ideas, these, and any other, may be learned by rote, and pronounced
  • or writ by men who have no ideas in their minds to which they have
  • annexed them, and for which they make them stand; which is necessary
  • they should, if men would speak intelligibly even to themselves alone.
  • 9. Second Remedy: To have distinct, determinate Ideas annexed to Words,
  • especially in mixed Modes.
  • Secondly, It is not enough a man uses his words as signs of some ideas:
  • those he annexes them to, if they be simple, must be clear and distinct;
  • if complex, must be determinate, i.e. the precise collection of simple
  • ideas settled in the mind, with that sound annexed to it, as the sign of
  • that precise determined collection, and no other. This is very necessary
  • in names of modes, and especially moral words; which, having no settled
  • objects in nature, from whence their ideas are taken, as from their
  • original, are apt to be very confused. JUSTICE is a word in every man's
  • mouth, but most commonly with a very undetermined, loose signification;
  • which will always be so, unless a man has in his mind a distinct
  • comprehension of the component parts that complex idea consists of and
  • if it be decompounded, must be able to resolve it still only till he at
  • last comes to the simple ideas that make it up: and unless this be done,
  • a man makes an ill use of the word, let it be justice, for example, or
  • any other. I do not say, a man needs stand to recollect, and make this
  • analysis at large, every time the word justice comes in his way: but
  • this at least is necessary, that he have so examined the signification
  • of that name, and settled the idea of all its parts in his mind, that
  • he can do it when he pleases. If any one who makes his complex idea of
  • justice to be, such a treatment of the person or goods of another as is
  • according to law, hath not a clear and distinct idea what LAW is, which
  • makes a part of his complex idea of justice, it is plain his idea of
  • justice itself will be confused and imperfect. This exactness will,
  • perhaps, be judged very troublesome; and therefore most men will think
  • they may be excused from settling the complex ideas of mixed modes so
  • precisely in their minds. But yet I must say, till this be done, it must
  • not be wondered, that they have a great deal of obscurity and confusion
  • in their own minds, and a great deal of wrangling in their discourse
  • with others.
  • 10. And distinct and conformable ideas in Words that stand for
  • Substances.
  • In the names of substances, for a right use of them, something more is
  • required than barely DETERMINED IDEAS. In these the names must also be
  • CONFORMABLE TO THINGS AS THEY EXIST; but of this I shall have occasion
  • to speak more at large by and by. This exactness is absolutely necessary
  • in inquiries after philosophical knowledge, and in controversies about
  • truth. And though it would be well, too, if it extended itself to common
  • conversation and the ordinary affairs of life; yet I think that is
  • scarce to be expected. Vulgar notions suit vulgar discourses: and both,
  • though confused enough, yet serve pretty well the market and the wake.
  • Merchants and lovers, cooks and tailors, have words wherewithal to
  • dispatch their ordinary affairs: and so, I think, might philosophers
  • and disputants too, if they had a mind to understand, and to clearly
  • understood.
  • 11. Third Remedy: To apply Words to such ideas as common use has annexed
  • them to.
  • Thirdly, it is not enough that men have ideas, determined ideas, for
  • which they make these signs stand; but they must also take care to apply
  • their words as near as may be to such ideas as common use has annexed
  • them to. For words, especially of languages already framed, being
  • no man's private possession, but the common measure of commerce and
  • communication, it is not for any one at pleasure to change the stamp
  • they are current in, nor alter the ideas they are affixed to; or at
  • least, when there is a necessity to do so, he is bound to give notice
  • of it. Men's intentions in speaking are, or at least should be, to be
  • understood; which cannot be without frequent explanations, demands,
  • and other the like incommodious interruptions, where men do not follow
  • common use. Propriety of speech is that which gives our thoughts
  • entrance into other men's minds with the greatest ease and advantage:
  • and therefore deserves some part of our care and study, especially in
  • the names of moral words. The proper signification and use of terms
  • is best to be learned from those who in their writings and discourses
  • appear to have had the clearest notions, and applied to them their terms
  • with the exactest choice and fitness. This way of using a man's words,
  • according to the propriety of the language, though it have not always
  • the good fortune to be understood; yet most commonly leaves the blame
  • of it on him who is so unskilful in the language he speaks, as not to
  • understand it when made use of as it ought to be.
  • 12. Fourth Remedy: To declare the meaning in which we use them.
  • Fourthly, But, because common use has not so visibly annexed any
  • signification to words, as to make men know always certainly what they
  • precisely stand for: and because men, in the improvement of their
  • knowledge, come to have ideas different from the vulgar and ordinary
  • received ones, for which they must either make new words, (which men
  • seldom venture to do, for fear of being thought guilty of affectation or
  • novelty,) or else must use old ones in a new signification: therefore,
  • after the observation of the foregoing rules, it is sometimes necessary,
  • for the ascertaining the signification of words, to DECLARE THEIR
  • MEANING; where either common use has left it uncertain and loose, (as it
  • has in most names of very complex ideas;) or where the term, being very
  • material in the discourse, and that upon which it chiefly turns, is
  • liable to any doubtfulness or mistake.
  • 13. And that in three Ways.
  • As the ideas men's words stand for are of different sorts, so the way of
  • making known the ideas they stand for, when there is occasion, is also
  • different. For though DEFINING be thought the proper way to make known
  • the proper signification of words; yet there are some words that will
  • not be defined, as there are others whose precise meaning cannot be made
  • known but by definition: and perhaps a third, which partake somewhat of
  • both the other, as we shall see in the names of simple ideas, modes, and
  • substances.
  • 14. In Simple Ideas, either by synonymous terms, or by showing examples.
  • I. First, when a man makes use of the name of any simple idea, which
  • he perceives is not understood, or is in danger to be mistaken, he is
  • obliged, by the laws of ingenuity and the end of speech, to declare his
  • meaning, and make known what idea he makes it stand for. This, as
  • has been shown, cannot be done by definition: and therefore, when a
  • synonymous word fails to do it, there is but one of these ways left.
  • First, Sometimes the NAMING the subject wherein that simple idea is
  • to be found, will make its name to be understood by those who are
  • acquainted with that subject, and know it by that name. So to make a
  • countryman understand what FEUILLEMORTE colour signifies, it may suffice
  • to tell him, it is the colour of withered leaves falling in autumn.
  • Secondly, but the only sure way of making known the signification of the
  • name of any simple idea, is BY PRESENTING TO HIS SENSES THAT SUBJECT
  • WHICH MAY PRODUCE IT IN HIS MIND, and make him actually have the idea
  • that word stands for.
  • 15. In mixed Modes, by Definition.
  • II. Secondly, Mixed modes, especially those belonging to morality, being
  • most of them such combinations of ideas as the mind puts together of its
  • own choice, and whereof there are not always standing patterns to be
  • found existing, the signification of their names cannot be made known,
  • as those of simple ideas, by any showing: but, in recompense thereof,
  • may be perfectly and exactly defined. For they being combinations of
  • several ideas that the mind of man has arbitrarily put together, without
  • reference to any archetypes, men may, if they please, exactly know the
  • ideas that go to each composition, and so both use these words in a
  • certain and undoubted signification, and perfectly declare, when there
  • is occasion, what they stand for. This, if well considered, would lay
  • great blame on those who make not their discourses about MORAL things
  • very clear and distinct. For since the precise signification of the
  • names of mixed modes, or, which is all one, the real essence of each
  • species is to be known, they being not of nature's, but man's making, it
  • is a great negligence and perverseness to discourse of moral things
  • with uncertainty and obscurity; which is more pardonable in treating of
  • natural substances, where doubtful terms are hardly to be avoided, for a
  • quite contrary reason, as we shall see by and by.
  • 16. Morality capable of Demonstration.
  • Upon this ground it is that I am bold to think that morality is capable
  • of demonstration, as well as mathematics: since the precise real essence
  • of the things moral words stand for may be perfectly known, and so
  • the congruity and incongruity of the things themselves be certainly
  • discovered; in which consists perfect knowledge. Nor let any one object,
  • that the names of substances are often to be made use of in morality,
  • as well as those of modes, from which will arise obscurity. For, as to
  • substances, when concerned in moral discourses, their divers natures
  • are not so much inquired into as supposed: v.g. when we say that man
  • is subject to law, we mean nothing by man but a corporeal rational
  • creature: what the real essence or other qualities of that creature are
  • in this case is no way considered. And, therefore, whether a child or
  • changeling be a man, in a physical sense, may amongst the naturalists be
  • as disputable as it will, it concerns not at all the moral man, as I
  • may call him, which is this immovable, unchangeable idea, a corporeal
  • rational being. For, were there a monkey, or any other creature, to be
  • found that had the use of reason to such a degree, as to be able to
  • understand general signs, and to deduce consequences about general
  • ideas, he would no doubt be subject to law, and in that sense be a MAN,
  • how much soever he differed in shape from others of that name. The names
  • of substances, if they be used in them as they should, can no more
  • disturb moral than they do mathematical discourses; where, if the
  • mathematician speaks of a cube or globe of gold, or of any other body,
  • he has his clear, settled idea, which varies not, though it may by
  • mistake be applied to a particular body to which it belongs not.
  • 17. Definitions can make moral Discourse clear.
  • This I have here mentioned, by the by, to show of what consequence it is
  • for men, in their names of mixed modes, and consequently in all their
  • moral discourses, to define their words when there is occasion: since
  • thereby moral knowledge may be brought to so great clearness and
  • certainty. And it must be great want of ingenuousness (to say no worse
  • of it) to refuse to do it: since a definition is the only way whereby
  • the precise meaning of moral words can be known; and yet a way whereby
  • their meaning may be known certainly, and without leaving any room for
  • any contest about it. And therefore the negligence or perverseness of
  • mankind cannot be excused, if their discourses in morality be not much
  • more clear than those in natural philosophy: since they are about ideas
  • in the mind, which are none of them false or disproportionate; they
  • having no external beings for the archetypes which they are referred to
  • and must correspond with. It is far easier for men to frame in their
  • minds an idea, which shall be the standard to which they will give the
  • name justice; with which pattern so made, all actions that agree shall
  • pass under that denomination, than, having seen Aristides, to frame an
  • idea that shall in all things be exactly like him; who is as he is, let
  • men make what idea they please of him. For the one, they need but know
  • the combination of ideas that are put together in their own minds; for
  • the other, they must inquire into the whole nature, and abstruse hidden
  • constitution, and various qualities of a thing existing without them.
  • 18. And is the only way in which the meaning of mixed Modes can be made
  • known.
  • Another reason that makes the defining of mixed modes so necessary,
  • especially of moral words, is what I mentioned a little before, viz.
  • that it is the only way whereby the signification of the most of them
  • can be known with certainty. For the ideas they stand for, being for
  • the most part such whose component parts nowhere exist together, but
  • scattered and mingled with others, it is the mind alone that collects
  • them, and gives them the union of one idea: and it is only by words
  • enumerating the several simple ideas which the mind has united, that we
  • can make known to others what their names stand for; the assistance of
  • the senses in this case not helping us, by the proposal of sensible
  • objects, to show the ideas which our names of this kind stand for, as
  • it does often in the names of sensible simple ideas, and also to some
  • degree in those of substances.
  • 19. In Substances, both by showing and by defining.
  • III. Thirdly, for the explaining the signification of the names of
  • substances, as they stand for the ideas we have of their distinct
  • species, both the forementioned ways, viz. of showing and defining, are
  • requisite, in many cases, to be made use of. For, there being ordinarily
  • in each sort some leading qualities, to which we suppose the other ideas
  • which make up our complex idea of that species annexed, we forwardly
  • give the specific name to that thing wherein that characteristic mark is
  • found, which we take to be the most distinguishing idea of that species.
  • These leading or characteristical (as I may call them) ideas, in the
  • sorts of animals and vegetables, are (as has been before remarked,
  • ch vi. Section 29 and ch. ix. Section 15) mostly figure; and in inanimate
  • bodies, colour; and in some, both together. Now,
  • 20. Ideas of the leading Qualities of Substances are best got by
  • showing.
  • These leading sensible qualities are those which make the chief
  • ingredients of our specific ideas, and consequently the most observable
  • and invariable part in the definitions of our specific names, as
  • attributed to sorts of substances coming under our knowledge. For though
  • the sound MAN, in its own nature, be as apt to signify a complex idea
  • made up of animality and rationality, united in the same subject, as to
  • signify any other combination; yet, used as a mark to stand for a sort
  • of creatures we count of our own kind, perhaps the outward shape is as
  • necessary to be taken into our complex idea, signified by the word man,
  • as any other we find in it: and therefore, why Plato's ANIMAL IMPLUME
  • BIPES LATIS UNGUIBUS should not be a good definition of the name man,
  • standing for that sort of creatures, will not be easy to show: for it
  • is the shape, as the leading quality, that seems more to determine that
  • species, than a faculty of reasoning, which appears not at first, and in
  • some never. And if this be not allowed to be so, I do not know how they
  • can be excused from murder who kill monstrous births, (as we call them,)
  • because of an unordinary shape, without knowing whether they have a
  • rational soul or no; which can be no more discerned in a well-formed
  • than ill-shaped infant, as soon as born. And who is it has informed us
  • that a rational soul can inhabit no tenement, unless it has just such a
  • sort of frontispiece; or can join itself to, and inform no sort of body,
  • but one that is just of such an outward structure?
  • 21. And can hardly be made known otherwise.
  • Now these leading qualities are best made known by showing, and can
  • hardly be made known otherwise. For the shape of a horse or cassowary
  • will be but rudely and imperfectly imprinted on the mind by words; the
  • sight of the animals doth it a thousand times better. And the idea of
  • the particular colour of gold is not to be got by any description of it,
  • but only by the frequent exercise of the eyes about as is evident in
  • those who are used to this metal, who frequently distinguish true from
  • counterfeit, pure from adulterate, by the sight, where others (who have
  • as good eyes, but yet by use have not got the precise nice idea of that
  • peculiar yellow) shall not perceive any difference. The like may be said
  • of those other simple ideas, peculiar in their kind to any substance;
  • for which precise ideas there are no peculiar names. The particular
  • ringing sound there is in gold, distinct from the sound of other bodies,
  • has no particular name annexed to it, no more than the particular yellow
  • that belongs to that metal.
  • 22. The Ideas of the Powers of Substances are best known by Definition.
  • But because many of the simple ideas that make up our specific ideas of
  • substances are powers which lie not obvious to our senses in the things
  • as they ordinarily appear; therefore, in the signification of our names
  • of substances, some part of the signification will be better made known
  • by enumerating those simple ideas, than by showing the substance itself.
  • For, he that to the yellow shining colour of gold, got by sight, shall,
  • from my enumerating them, have the ideas of great ductility, fusibility,
  • fixedness, and solubility, in aqua regia, will have a perfecter idea of
  • gold than he can have by seeing a piece of gold, and thereby imprinting
  • in his mind only its obvious qualities. But if the formal constitution
  • of this shining, heavy, ductile thing, (from whence all these its
  • properties flow,) lay open to our senses, as the formal constitution or
  • essence of a triangle does, the signification of the word gold might as
  • easily be ascertained as that of triangle.
  • 23. A Reflection on the Knowledge of corporeal things possessed by
  • Spirits separate from bodies.
  • Hence we may take notice, how much the foundation of all our knowledge
  • of corporeal things lies in our senses. For how spirits, separate from
  • bodies, (whose knowledge and ideas of these things are certainly much
  • more perfect than ours,) know them, we have no notion, no idea at all.
  • The whole extent of our knowledge or imagination reaches not beyond our
  • own ideas limited to our ways of perception. Though yet it be not to be
  • doubted that spirits of a higher rank than those immersed in flesh may
  • have as clear ideas of the radical constitution of substances as we have
  • of a triangle, and so perceive how all their properties and operations
  • flow from thence: but the manner how they come by that knowledge exceeds
  • our conceptions.
  • 24. Ideas of Substances must also be conformable to Things.
  • Fourthly, But, though definitions will serve to explain the names of
  • substances as they stand for our ideas, yet they leave them not without
  • great imperfection as they stand for things. For our names of substances
  • being not put barely for our ideas, but being made use of ultimately to
  • represent things, and so are put in their place, their signification
  • must agree with the truth of things as well as with men's ideas. And
  • therefore, in substances, we are not always to rest in the ordinary
  • complex idea commonly received as the signification of that word, but
  • must go a little further, and inquire into the nature and properties of
  • the things themselves, and thereby perfect, as much as we can, our ideas
  • of their distinct species; or else learn them from such as are used
  • to that sort of things, and are experienced in them. For, since it is
  • intended their names should stand for such collections of simple ideas
  • as do really exist in things themselves, as well as for the complex idea
  • in other men's minds, which in their ordinary acceptation they stand
  • for, therefore, to define their names right, natural history is to be
  • inquired into, and their properties are, with care and examination, to
  • be found out. For it is not enough, for the avoiding inconveniences in
  • discourse and arguings about natural bodies and substantial things,
  • to have learned, from the propriety of the language, the common, but
  • confused, or very imperfect, idea to which each word is applied, and to
  • keep them to that idea in our use of them; but we must, by acquainting
  • ourselves with the history of that sort of things, rectify and settle
  • our complex idea belonging to each specific name; and in discourse with
  • others, (if we find them mistake us,) we ought to tell what the complex
  • idea is that we make such a name stand for. This is the more necessary
  • to be done by all those who search after knowledge and philosophical
  • verity, in that children, being taught words, whilst they have but
  • imperfect notions of things, apply them at random, and without much
  • thinking, and seldom frame determined ideas to be signified by them.
  • Which custom (it being easy, and serving well enough for the ordinary
  • affairs of life and conversation) they are apt to continue when they are
  • men: and so begin at the wrong end, learning words first and perfectly,
  • but make the notions to which they apply those words afterwards very
  • overtly. By this means it comes to pass, that men speaking the language
  • of their country, i.e. according to grammar rules of that language, do
  • yet speak very improperly of things themselves; and, by their arguing
  • one with another, make but small progress in the discoveries of useful
  • truths, and the knowledge of things, as they are to be found in
  • themselves, and not in our imaginations; and it matters not much for the
  • improvement of our knowledge how they are called.
  • 25. Not easy to be made so.
  • It were therefore to be wished, That men versed in physical inquiries,
  • and acquainted with the several sorts of natural bodies, would set down
  • those simple ideas wherein they observe the individuals of each sort
  • constantly to agree. This would remedy a great deal of that confusion
  • which comes from several persons applying the same name to a collection
  • of a smaller or greater number of sensible qualities, proportionably as
  • they have been more or less acquainted with, or accurate in examining,
  • the qualities of any sort of things which come under one denomination.
  • But a dictionary of this sort, containing, as it were, a natural
  • history, requires too many hands as well as too much time, cost, pains,
  • and sagacity ever to be hoped for; and till that be done, we must
  • content ourselves with such definitions of the names of substances as
  • explain the sense men use them in. And it would be well, where there is
  • occasion, if they would afford us so much. This yet is not usually done;
  • but men talk to one another, and dispute in words, whose meaning is not
  • agreed between them, out of a mistake that the significations of common
  • words are certainly established, and the precise ideas they stand for
  • perfectly known; and that it is a shame to be ignorant of them. Both
  • which suppositions are false, no names of complex ideas having so
  • settled determined significations, that they are constantly used for
  • the same precise ideas. Nor is it a shame for a man to have a certain
  • knowledge of anything, but by the necessary ways of attaining it; and so
  • it is no discredit not to know what precise idea any sound stands for in
  • another man's mind, without he declare it to me by some other way than
  • barely using that sound, there being no other way, without such a
  • declaration, certainly to know it. Indeed the necessity of communication
  • by language brings men to an agreement in the signification of common
  • words, within some tolerable latitude, that may serve for ordinary
  • conversation: and so a man cannot be supposed wholly ignorant of the
  • ideas which are annexed to words by common use, in a language familiar
  • to him. But common use being but a very uncertain rule, which reduces
  • itself at last to the ideas of particular men, proves often but a
  • very variable standard. But though such a Dictionary as I have above
  • mentioned will require too much time, cost, and pains to be hoped for
  • in this age; yet methinks it is not unreasonable to propose, that words
  • standing for things which are known and distinguished by their outward
  • shapes should be expressed by little draughts and prints made of them. A
  • vocabulary made after this fashion would perhaps with more ease, and in
  • less time, teach the true signification of many terms, especially in
  • languages of remote countries or ages, and settle truer ideas in men's
  • minds of several things, whereof we read the names in ancient authors,
  • than all the large and laborious comments of learned critics.
  • Naturalists, that treat of plants and animals, have found the benefit of
  • this way: and he that has had occasion to consult them will have reason
  • to confess that he has a clearer idea of APIUM or IBEX, from a little
  • print of that herb or beast, than he could have from a long definition
  • of the names of either of them. And so no doubt he would have of STRIGIL
  • and SISTRUM, if, instead of CURRYCOMB and CYMBAL, (which are the English
  • names dictionaries render them by,) he could see stamped in the margin
  • small pictures of these instruments, as they were in use amongst the
  • ancients. TOGA, TUNICA, PALLIUM, are words easily translated by GOWN,
  • COAT, and CLOAK; but we have thereby no more true ideas of the fashion
  • of those habits amongst the Romans, than we have of the faces of the
  • tailors who made them. Such things as these, which the eye distinguishes
  • by their shapes, would be best let into the mind by draughts made of
  • them, and more determine the signification of such words, than any other
  • words set for them, or made use of to define them. But this is only by
  • the bye.
  • 26. V. Fifth Remedy: To use the same word constantly in the same sense.
  • Fifthly, If men will not be at the pains to declare the meaning of their
  • words, and definitions of their terms are not to be had, yet this is
  • the least that can be expected, that, in all discourses wherein one man
  • pretends to instruct or convince another, he should use the same word
  • constantly in the same sense. If this were done, (which nobody can
  • refuse without great disingenuity,) many of the books extant might be
  • spared; many of the controversies in dispute would be at an end; several
  • of those great volumes, swollen with ambiguous words, now used in
  • one sense, and by and by in another, would shrink into a very narrow
  • compass; and many of the philosophers (to mention no other) as well as
  • poets works, might be contained in a nutshell.
  • 27. When not so used, the Variation is to be explained.
  • But after all, the provision of words is so scanty in respect to that
  • infinite variety of thoughts, that men, wanting terms to suit their
  • precise notions, will, notwithstanding their utmost caution, be forced
  • often to use the same word in somewhat different senses. And though in
  • the continuation of a discourse, or the pursuit of an argument, there
  • can be hardly room to digress into a particular definition, as often
  • as a man varies the signification of any term; yet the import of the
  • discourse will, for the most part, if there be no designed fallacy,
  • sufficiently lead candid and intelligent readers into the true meaning
  • of it; but where there is not sufficient to guide the reader, there it
  • concerns the writer to explain his meaning, and show in what sense he
  • there uses that term.
  • BOOK IV
  • OF KNOWLEDGE AND PROBABILITY SYNOPSIS OF THE FOURTH BOOK.
  • Locke's review of the different sorts of ideas, or appearances of what
  • exists, that can be entertained in a human understanding, and of their
  • relations to words, leads, in the Fourth Book, to an investigation of
  • the extent and validity of the Knowledge that our ideas bring within our
  • reach; and into the nature of faith in Probability, by which assent is
  • extended beyond Knowledge, for the conduct of life. He finds (ch. i, ii)
  • that Knowledge is either an intuitive, a demonstrative, or a sensuous
  • perception of absolute certainty, in regard to one or other of four
  • sorts of agreement or disagreement on the part of ideas:--(1) of each
  • idea with itself, as identical, and different from every other; (2) in
  • their abstract relations to one another; (3) in their necessary
  • connexions, as qualities and powers coexisting in concrete substances;
  • and (4) as revelations to us of the final realities of existence. The
  • unconditional certainty that constitutes Knowledge is perceptible by man
  • only in regard to the first, second, and fourth of these four sorts: in
  • all general propositions only in regard to the first and second; that is
  • to say, in identical propositions, and in those which express abstract
  • relations of simple or mixed modes, in which nominal and real essences
  • coincide, e. g. propositions in pure mathematics and abstract morality
  • (chh. iii, v-viii). The fourth sort, which express certainty as to
  • realities of existence, refer to any of three realities. For every man
  • is able to perceive with absolute certainty that he himself exists, that
  • God must exist, and that finite beings other than himself exist;--the
  • first of these perceptions being awakened by all our ideas, the second
  • as the consequence of perception of the first, and the last in the
  • reception of our simple ideas of sense (chh. i. Section 7; ii. Section
  • 14; iii. Section 21; iv, ix-xi). Agreement of the third sort, of
  • necessary coexistence of simple ideas as qualities and powers in
  • particular substances, with which all physical inquiry is concerned,
  • lies beyond human Knowledge; for here the nominal and real essences are
  • not coincident: general propositions of this sort are determined by
  • analogies of experience, in judgments that are more or less probable:
  • intellectually necessary science of nature presupposes Omniscience;
  • man's interpretations of nature have to turn upon presumptions of
  • Probability (chh. iii. Sections 9-17; iv. SectionS 11-17; vi, xiv-xvi).
  • In forming their stock of Certainties and Probabilities men employ the
  • faculty of reason, faith in divine revelation, and enthusiasm (chh.
  • xvii-xix); much misled by the last, as well as by other causes of 'wrong
  • assent' (ch. xx), when they are at work in 'the three great provinces of
  • the intellectual world' (ch. xxi), concerned respectively with (1)
  • 'things as knowable' (physica); (2) 'actions as they depend on us in
  • order to happiness' (practica); and (3) methods for interpreting the
  • signs of what is, and of what ought to be, that are presented in our
  • ideas and words (logica).
  • CHAPTER I.
  • OF KNOWLEDGE IN GENERAL.
  • 1. Our Knowledge conversant about our Ideas only.
  • Since the mind, in all its thoughts and reasonings, hath no other
  • immediate object but its own ideas, which it alone does or can
  • contemplate, it is evident that our knowledge is only conversant about
  • them.
  • 2. Knowledge is the Perception of the Agreement or Disagreement of two
  • Ideas.
  • KNOWLEDGE then seems to me to be nothing but THE PERCEPTION OF THE
  • CONNEXION OF AND AGREEMENT, OR DISAGREEMENT AND REPUGNANCY OF ANY OF OUR
  • IDEAS. In this alone it consists.
  • Where this perception is, there is knowledge, and where it is not,
  • there, though we may fancy, guess, or believe, yet we always come short
  • of knowledge. For when we know that white is not black, what do we
  • else but perceive, that these two ideas do not agree? When we possess
  • ourselves with the utmost security of the demonstration, that the three
  • angles of a triangle are equal to two right ones, what do we more but
  • perceive, that equality to two right ones does necessarily agree to, and
  • is inseparable from, the three angles of a triangle?
  • 3. This Agreement or Disagreement may be any of four sorts.
  • But to understand a little more distinctly wherein this agreement or
  • disagreement consists, I think we may reduce it all to these four sorts:
  • I. IDENTITY, or DIVERSITY. II. RELATION. III. CO-EXISTENCE, or NECESSARY
  • CONNEXION. IV. REAL EXISTENCE.
  • 4. First, Of Identity, or Diversity in ideas.
  • FIRST, As to the first sort of agreement or disagreement, viz. IDENTITY
  • or DIVERSITY. It is the first act of the mind, when it has any
  • sentiments or ideas at all, to perceive its ideas; and so far as it
  • perceives them, to know each what it is, and thereby also to perceive
  • their difference, and that one is not another. This is so absolutely
  • necessary, that without it there could be no knowledge, no reasoning, no
  • imagination, no distinct thoughts at all. By this the mind clearly and
  • infallibly perceives each idea to agree with itself, and to be what it
  • is; and all distinct ideas to disagree, i. e. the one not to be the
  • other: and this it does without pains, labour, or deduction; but at
  • first view, by its natural power of perception and distinction. And
  • though men of art have reduced this into those general rules, WHAT IS,
  • IS, and IT IS IMPOSSIBLE FOR THE SAME THING TO BE AND NOT TO BE, for
  • ready application in all cases, wherein there may be occasion to reflect
  • on it: yet it is certain that the first exercise of this faculty is
  • about particular ideas. A man infallibly knows, as soon as ever he has
  • them in his mind, that the ideas he calls WHITE and ROUND are the very
  • ideas they are; and that they are not other ideas which he calls RED or
  • SQUARE. Nor can any maxim or proposition in the world make him know it
  • clearer or surer than he did before, and without any such general
  • rule. This then is the first agreement or disagreement which the mind
  • perceives in its ideas; which it always perceives at first sight: and
  • if there ever happen any doubt about it, it will always be found to
  • be about the names, and not the ideas themselves, whose identity and
  • diversity will always be perceived, as soon and clearly as the ideas
  • themselves are; nor can it possibly be otherwise.
  • 5. Secondly, Of abstract Relations between ideas.
  • SECONDLY, the next sort of agreement or disagreement the mind perceives
  • in any of its ideas may, I think, be called RELATIVE, and is nothing
  • but the perception of the RELATION between any two ideas, of what kind
  • soever, whether substances, modes, or any other. For, since all distinct
  • ideas must eternally be known not to be the same, and so be universally
  • and constantly denied one of another, there could be no room for any
  • positive knowledge at all, if we could not perceive any relation between
  • our ideas, and find out the agreement or disagreement they have one with
  • another, in several ways the mind takes of comparing them.
  • 6. Thirdly, Of their necessary Co-existence in Substances.
  • THIRDLY, The third sort of agreement or disagreement to be found in
  • our ideas, which the perception of the mind is employed about, is
  • CO-EXISTENCE or NON-CO-EXISTENCE in the SAME SUBJECT; and this belongs
  • particularly to substances. Thus when we pronounce concerning gold, that
  • it is fixed, our knowledge of this truth amounts to no more but this,
  • that fixedness, or a power to remain in the fire unconsumed, is an idea
  • that always accompanies and is joined with that particular sort of
  • yellowness, weight, fusibility, malleableness, and solubility in AQUA
  • REGIA, which make our complex idea signified by the word gold.
  • 7. Fourthly, Of real Existence agreeing to any idea.
  • FOURTHLY, The fourth and last sort is that of ACTUAL REAL EXISTENCE
  • agreeing to any idea.
  • Within these four sorts of agreement or disagreement is, I suppose,
  • contained all the knowledge we have, or are capable of. For all the
  • inquiries we can make concerning any of our ideas, all that we know or
  • can affirm concerning any of them, is, That it is, or is not, the same
  • with some other; that it does or does not always co-exist with some
  • other idea in the same subject; that it has this or that relation with
  • some other idea; or that it has a real existence without the mind. Thus,
  • 'blue is not yellow,' is of identity. 'Two triangles upon equal bases
  • between two parallels are equal,' is of relation. 'Iron is susceptible
  • of magnetical impressions,' is of co-existence. 'God is,' is of real
  • existence. Though identity and co-existence are truly nothing but
  • relations, yet they are such peculiar ways of agreement or disagreement
  • of our ideas, that they deserve well to be considered as distinct heads,
  • and not under relation in general; since they are so different grounds
  • of affirmation and negation, as will easily appear to any one, who will
  • but reflect on what is said in several places of this ESSAY.
  • I should now proceed to examine the several degrees of our knowledge,
  • but that it is necessary first, to consider the different acceptations
  • of the word KNOWLEDGE.
  • 8. Knowledge is either actual or habitual.
  • There are several ways wherein the mind is possessed of truth; each of
  • which is called knowledge.
  • I. There is ACTUAL KNOWLEDGE, which is the present view the mind has of
  • the agreement or disagreement of any of its ideas, or of the relation
  • they have one to another.
  • II. A man is said to know any proposition, which having been once
  • laid before his thoughts, he evidently perceived the agreement or
  • disagreement of the ideas whereof it consists; and so lodged it in his
  • memory, that whenever that proposition comes again to be reflected on,
  • he, without doubt or hesitation, embraces the right side, assents to,
  • and is certain of the truth of it. This, I think, one may call HABITUAL
  • KNOWLEDGE. And thus a man may be said to know all those truths which are
  • lodged in his memory, by a foregoing clear and full perception, whereof
  • the mind is assured past doubt as often as it has occasion to reflect
  • on them. For our finite understandings being able to think clearly and
  • distinctly but on one thing at once, if men had no knowledge of any more
  • than what they actually thought on, they would all be very ignorant: and
  • he that knew most, would know but one truth, that being all he was able
  • to think on at one time.
  • 9. Habitual Knowledge is of two degrees.
  • Of habitual knowledge there are, also, vulgarly speaking, two degrees:
  • First, The one is of such truths laid up in the memory as, whenever they
  • occur to the mind, it ACTUALLY PERCEIVES THE RELATION is between those
  • ideas. And this is in all those truths whereof we have an intuitive
  • knowledge; where the ideas themselves, by an immediate view, discover
  • their agreement or disagreement one with another.
  • Secondly, The other is of such truths whereof the mind having been
  • convinced, it RETAINS THE MEMORY OF THE CONVICTION, WITHOUT THE PROOFS.
  • Thus, a man that remembers certainly that he once perceived the
  • demonstration, that the three angles of a triangle are equal to two
  • right ones, is certain that he knows it, because he cannot doubt the
  • truth of it. In his adherence to a truth, where the demonstration by
  • which it was at first known is forgot, though a man may be thought
  • rather to believe his memory than really to know, and this way of
  • entertaining a truth seemed formerly to me like something between
  • opinion and knowledge; a sort of assurance which exceeds bare belief,
  • for that relies on the testimony of another;--yet upon a due examination
  • I find it comes not short of perfect certainty, and is in effect true
  • knowledge. That which is apt to mislead our first thoughts into a
  • mistake in this matter is, that the agreement or disagreement of the
  • ideas in this case is not perceived, as it was at first, by an actual
  • view of all the intermediate ideas whereby the agreement or disagreement
  • of those in the proposition was at first perceived; but by other
  • intermediate ideas, that show the agreement or disagreement of the ideas
  • contained in the proposition whose certainty we remember. For example:
  • in this proposition, that 'the three angles of a triangle are equal
  • to two right ones,' one who has seen and clearly perceived the
  • demonstration of this truth knows it to be true, when that demonstration
  • is gone out of his mind; so that at present it is not actually in view,
  • and possibly cannot be recollected: but he knows it in a different way
  • from what he did before. The agreement of the two ideas joined in that
  • proposition is perceived; but it is by the intervention of other ideas
  • than those which at first produced that perception. He remembers, i.e.
  • he knows (for remembrance is but the reviving of some past knowledge)
  • that he was once certain of the truth of this proposition, that the
  • three angles of a triangle are equal to two right ones. The immutability
  • of the same relations between the same immutable things is now the idea
  • that shows him, that if the three angles of a triangle were once equal
  • to two right ones, they will always be equal to two right ones. And
  • hence he comes to be certain, that what was once true in the case, is
  • always true; what ideas once agreed will always agree; and consequently
  • what he once knew to be true, he will always know to be true; as long
  • as he can remember that he once knew it. Upon this ground it is, that
  • particular demonstrations in mathematics afford general knowledge. If
  • then the perception, that the same ideas will ETERNALLY have the same
  • habitudes and relations, be not a sufficient ground of knowledge, there
  • could be no knowledge of general propositions in mathematics; for no
  • mathematical demonstration would be any other than particular: and
  • when a man had demonstrated any proposition concerning one triangle or
  • circle, his knowledge would not reach beyond that particular diagram. If
  • he would extend it further, he must renew his demonstration in another
  • instance, before he could know it to be true in another like triangle,
  • and so on: by which means one could never come to the knowledge of
  • any general propositions. Nobody, I think, can deny, that Mr. Newton
  • certainly knows any proposition that he now at any time reads in his
  • book to be true; though he has not in actual view that admirable chain
  • of intermediate ideas whereby he at first discovered it to be true. Such
  • a memory as that, able to retain such a train of particulars, may
  • be well thought beyond the reach of human faculties, when the very
  • discovery, perception, and laying together that wonderful connexion of
  • ideas, is found to surpass most readers' comprehension. But yet it is
  • evident the author himself knows the proposition to be true, remembering
  • he once saw the connexion of those ideas; as certainly as he knows such
  • a man wounded another, remembering that he saw him run him through. But
  • because the memory is not always so clear as actual perception, and does
  • in all men more or less decay in length of time, this, amongst other
  • differences, is one which shows that DEMONSTRATIVE knowledge is much
  • more imperfect than INTUITIVE, as we shall see in the following chapter.
  • CHAPTER II.
  • OF THE DEGREES OF OUR KNOWLEDGE.
  • 1. Of the degrees, or differences in clearness, of our Knowledge:
  • I. Intuitive
  • All our knowledge consisting, as I have said, in the view the mind has
  • of its own ideas, which is the utmost light and greatest certainty we,
  • with our faculties, and in our way of knowledge, are capable of, it
  • may not be amiss to consider a little the degrees of its evidence. The
  • different clearness of our knowledge seems to me to lie in the different
  • way of perception the mind has of the agreement or disagreement of any
  • of its ideas. For if we will reflect on our own ways of thinking,
  • we will find, that sometimes the mind perceives the agreement or
  • disagreement of two ideas IMMEDIATELY BY THEMSELVES, without the
  • intervention of any other: and this I think we may call INTUITIVE
  • KNOWLEDGE. For in this the mind is at no pains of proving or examining,
  • but perceives the truth as the eye doth light, only by being directed
  • towards it. Thus the mind perceives that WHITE is not BLACK, that a
  • CIRCLE is not a TRIANGLE, that THREE are more than TWO and equal to ONE
  • AND TWO. Such kinds of truths the mind perceives at the first sight of
  • the ideas together, by bare intuition; without the intervention of any
  • other idea: and this kind of knowledge is the clearest and most
  • certain that human frailty is capable of. This part of knowledge is
  • irresistible, and, like bright sunshine, forces itself immediately to be
  • perceived, as soon as ever the mind turns its view that way; and leaves
  • no room for hesitation, doubt, or examination, but the mind is presently
  • filled with the clear light of it. IT IS ON THIS INTUITION THAT DEPENDS
  • ALL THE CERTAINTY AND EVIDENCE OF ALL OUR KNOWLEDGE; which certainty
  • every one finds to be so great, that he cannot imagine, and therefore
  • not require a greater: for a man cannot conceive himself capable of a
  • greater certainty than to know that any idea in his mind is such as
  • he perceives it to be; and that two ideas, wherein he perceives a
  • difference, are different and not precisely the same. He that demands a
  • greater certainty than this, demands he knows not what, and shows
  • only that he has a mind to be a sceptic, without being able to be so.
  • Certainty depends so wholly on this intuition, that, in the next degree
  • of knowledge which I call demonstrative, this intuition is necessary in
  • all the connexions of the intermediate ideas, without which we cannot
  • attain knowledge and certainty.
  • 2. II. Demonstrative.
  • The next degree of knowledge is, where the mind perceives the agreement
  • or disagreement of any ideas, but not immediately. Though wherever the
  • mind perceives the agreement or disagreement of any of its ideas, there
  • be certain knowledge; yet it does not always happen, that the mind sees
  • that agreement or disagreement, which there is between them, even where
  • it is discoverable; and in that case remains in ignorance, and at most
  • gets no further than a probable conjecture. The reason why the mind
  • cannot always perceive presently the agreement or disagreement of
  • two ideas, is, because those ideas, concerning whose agreement or
  • disagreement the inquiry is made, cannot by the mind be so put together
  • as to show it. In this case then, when the mind cannot so bring its
  • ideas together as by their immediate comparison, and as it were
  • juxta-position or application one to another, to perceive their
  • agreement or disagreement, it is fain, BY THE INTERVENTION OF OTHER
  • IDEAS, (one or more, as it happens) to discover the agreement or
  • disagreement which it searches; and this is that which we call
  • REASONING. Thus, the mind being willing to know the agreement or
  • disagreement in bigness between the three angles of a triangle and
  • two right ones, cannot by an immediate view and comparing them do it:
  • because the three angles of a triangle cannot be brought at once, and be
  • compared with any other one, or two, angles; and so of this the mind has
  • no immediate, no intuitive knowledge. In this case the mind is fain to
  • find out some other angles, to which the three angles of a triangle have
  • an equality; and, finding those equal to two right ones, comes to know
  • their equality to two right ones.
  • 3. Demonstration depends on clearly perceived proofs.
  • Those intervening ideas, which serve to show the agreement of any two
  • others, are called PROOFS; and where the agreement and disagreement is
  • by this means plainly and clearly perceived, it is called DEMONSTRATION;
  • it being SHOWN to the understanding, and the mind made to see that it is
  • so. A quickness in the mind to find out these intermediate ideas, (that
  • shall discover the agreement or disagreement of any other,) and to apply
  • them right, is, I suppose, that which is called SAGACITY.
  • 4. As certain, but not so easy and ready as Intuitive Knowledge.
  • This knowledge, by intervening proofs, though it be certain, yet the
  • evidence of it is not altogether so clear and bright, nor the assent so
  • ready, as in intuitive knowledge. For, though in demonstration the mind
  • does at last perceive the agreement or disagreement of the ideas it
  • considers; yet it is not without pains and attention: there must be more
  • than one transient view to find it. A steady application and pursuit are
  • required to this discovery: and there must be a progression by steps and
  • degrees, before the mind can in this way arrive at certainty, and come
  • to perceive the agreement or repugnancy between two ideas that need
  • proofs and the use of reason to show it.
  • 5. The demonstrated conclusion not without Doubt, precedent to the
  • demonstration.
  • Another difference between intuitive and demonstrative knowledge
  • is, that, though in the latter all doubt be removed when, by the
  • intervention of the intermediate ideas, the agreement or disagreement
  • is perceived, yet before the demonstration there was a doubt; which in
  • intuitive knowledge cannot happen to the mind that has its faculty of
  • perception left to a degree capable of distinct ideas; no more than it
  • can be a doubt to the eye (that can distinctly see white and black),
  • Whether this ink and this paper be all of a colour. If there be sight in
  • the eyes, it will, at first glimpse, without hesitation, perceive the
  • words printed on this paper different from the colour of the paper: and
  • so if the mind have the faculty of distinct perception, it will perceive
  • the agreement or disagreement of those ideas that produce intuitive
  • knowledge. If the eyes have lost the faculty of seeing, or the mind of
  • perceiving, we in vain inquire after the quickness of sight in one, or
  • clearness of perception in the other.
  • 6. Not so clear as Intuitive Knowledge.
  • It is true, the perception produced by demonstration is also very clear;
  • yet it is often with a great abatement of that evident lustre and full
  • assurance that always accompany that which I call intuitive: like a
  • face reflected by several mirrors one to another, where, as long as it
  • retains the similitude and agreement with the object, it produces a
  • knowledge; but it is still, in every successive reflection, with a
  • lessening of that perfect clearness and distinctness which is in the
  • first; till at last, after many removes, it has a great mixture of
  • dimness, and is not at first sight so knowable, especially to weak eyes.
  • Thus it is with knowledge made out by a long train of proof.
  • 7. Each Step in Demonstrated Knowledge must have Intuitive Evidence.
  • Now, in every step reason makes in demonstrative knowledge, there is an
  • intuitive knowledge of that agreement or disagreement it seeks with the
  • next intermediate idea which it uses as a proof: for if it were not
  • so, that yet would need a proof; since without the perception of such
  • agreement or disagreement, there is no knowledge produced: if it
  • be perceived by itself, it is intuitive knowledge: if it cannot be
  • perceived by itself, there is need of some intervening idea, as a common
  • measure, to show their agreement or disagreement. By which it is plain,
  • that every step in reasoning that produces knowledge, has intuitive
  • certainty; which when the mind perceives, there is no more required
  • but to remember it, to make the agreement or disagreement of the ideas
  • concerning which we inquire visible and certain. So that to make
  • anything a demonstration, it is necessary to perceive the immediate
  • agreement of the intervening ideas, whereby the agreement or
  • disagreement of the two ideas under examination (whereof the one is
  • always the first, and the other the last in the account) is found.
  • This intuitive perception of the agreement or disagreement of the
  • intermediate ideas, in each step and progression of the demonstration,
  • must also be carried exactly in the mind, and a man must be sure that no
  • part is left out: which, because in long deductions, and the use of
  • many proofs, the memory does not always so readily and exactly retain;
  • therefore it comes to pass, that this is more imperfect than intuitive
  • knowledge, and men embrace often falsehood for demonstrations.
  • 8. Hence the Mistake, ex praecognitis, et praeconcessis.
  • The necessity of this intuitive knowledge, in each step of scientifical
  • or demonstrative reasoning, gave occasion, I imagine, to that mistaken
  • axiom, That all reasoning was EX PRAECOGNITIS ET PRAECONCESSIS: which,
  • how far it is a mistake, I shall have occasion to show more at
  • large, when I come to consider propositions, and particularly those
  • propositions which are called maxims, and to show that it is by a
  • mistake that they are supposed to be the foundations of all our
  • knowledge and reasonings.
  • 9. Demonstration not limited to ideas of mathematical Quantity.
  • [It has been generally taken for granted, that mathematics alone are
  • capable of demonstrative certainty: but to have such an agreement or
  • disagreement as may intuitively be perceived, being, as I imagine, not
  • the privilege of the ideas of number, extension, and figure alone, it
  • may possibly be the want of due method and application in us, and not of
  • sufficient evidence in things, that demonstration has been thought to
  • have so little to do in other parts of knowledge, and been scarce so
  • much as aimed at by any but mathematicians.] For whatever ideas we have
  • wherein the mind can perceive the immediate agreement or disagreement
  • that is between them, there the mind is capable of intuitive knowledge;
  • and where it can perceive the agreement or disagreement of any two
  • ideas, by an intuitive perception of the agreement or disagreement
  • they have with any intermediate ideas, there the mind is capable of
  • demonstration: which is not limited to ideas of extension, figure,
  • number, and their modes.
  • 10. Why it has been thought to be so limited.
  • The reason why it has been generally sought for, and supposed to be only
  • in those, I imagine has been, not only the general usefulness of those
  • sciences; but because, in comparing their equality or excess, the modes
  • of numbers have every the least difference very clear and perceivable:
  • and though in extension every the least excess is not so perceptible,
  • yet the mind has found out ways to examine, and discover
  • demonstratively, the just equality of two angles, or extensions, or
  • figures: and both these, i. e. numbers and figures, can be set down by
  • visible and lasting marks, wherein the ideas under consideration are
  • perfectly determined; which for the most part they are not, where they
  • are marked only by names and words.
  • 11. Modes of Qualities not demonstrable like modes of Quantity.
  • But in other simple ideas, whose modes and differences are made and
  • counted by degrees, and not quantity, we have not so nice and accurate
  • a distinction of their differences as to perceive, or find ways to
  • measure, their just equality, or the least differences. For those other
  • simple ideas, being appearances of sensations produced in us, by the
  • size, figure, number, and motion of minute corpuscles singly insensible;
  • their different degrees also depend upon the variation of some or of all
  • those causes: which, since it cannot be observed by us, in particles of
  • matter whereof each is too subtile to be perceived, it is impossible for
  • us to have any exact measures of the different degrees of these simple
  • ideas. For, supposing the sensation or idea we name whiteness be
  • produced in us by a certain number of globules, which, having a
  • verticity about their own centres, strike upon the retina of the eye,
  • with a certain degree of rotation, as well as progressive swiftness; it
  • will hence easily follow, that the more the superficial parts of any
  • body are so ordered as to reflect the greater number of globules of
  • light, and to give them the proper rotation, which is fit to produce
  • this sensation of white in us, the more white will that body appear,
  • that from an equal space sends to the retina the greater number of such
  • corpuscles, with that peculiar sort of motion. I do not say that the
  • nature of light consists in very small round globules; nor of whiteness
  • in such a texture of parts as gives a certain rotation to these globules
  • when it reflects them: for I am not now treating physically of light or
  • colours. But this I think I may say, that I cannot (and I would be glad
  • any one would make intelligible that he did) conceive how bodies without
  • us can any ways affect our senses, but by the immediate contact of the
  • sensible bodies themselves, as in tasting and feeling, or the impulse
  • of some sensible particles coming from them, as in seeing, hearing,
  • and smelling; by the different impulse of which parts, caused by their
  • different size, figure, and motion, the variety of sensations is
  • produced in us.
  • 12. Particles of light and simple ideas of colour.
  • Whether then they be globules or no; or whether they have a verticity
  • about their own centres that produces the idea of whiteness in us; this
  • is certain, that the more particles of light are reflected from a body,
  • fitted to give them that peculiar motion which produces the sensation
  • of whiteness in us; and possibly too, the quicker that peculiar motion
  • is,--the whiter does the body appear from which the greatest number are
  • reflected, as is evident in the same piece of paper put in the sunbeams,
  • in the shade, and in a dark hole; in each of which it will produce in us
  • the idea of whiteness in far different degrees.
  • 13. The secondary Qualities of things not discovered by Demonstration.
  • Not knowing, therefore, what number of particles, nor what motion of
  • them, is fit to produce any precise degree of whiteness, we cannot
  • DEMONSTRATE the certain equality of any two degrees of whiteness;
  • because we have no certain standard to measure them by, nor means to
  • distinguish every the least real difference, the only help we have being
  • from our senses, which in this point fail us. But where the difference
  • is so great as to produce in the mind clearly distinct ideas, whose
  • differences can be perfectly retained, there these ideas or colours,
  • as we see in different kinds, as blue and red, are as capable of
  • demonstration as ideas of number and extension. What I have here said of
  • whiteness and colours, I think holds true in all secondary qualities and
  • their modes.
  • 14. III. Sensitive Knowledge of the particular Existence of finite
  • beings without us.
  • These two, viz. intuition and demonstration, are the degrees of our
  • KNOWLEDGE; whatever comes short of one of these, with what assurance
  • soever embraced, is but FAITH or OPINION, but not knowledge, at least in
  • all general truths. There is, indeed, another perception of the mind,
  • employed about THE PARTICULAR EXISTENCE OF FINITE BEINGS WITHOUT US,
  • which, going beyond bare probability, and yet not reaching perfectly to
  • either of the foregoing degrees of certainty, passes under the name
  • of KNOWLEDGE. There can be nothing more certain than that the idea we
  • receive from an external object is in our minds: this is intuitive
  • knowledge. But whether there be anything more than barely that idea
  • in our minds; whether we can thence certainly infer the existence of
  • anything without us, which corresponds to that idea, is that whereof
  • some men think there may be a question made; because men may have such
  • ideas in their minds, when no such thing exists, no such object affects
  • their senses. But yet here I think we are provided with an evidence that
  • puts us past doubting. For I ask any one, Whether he be not invincibly
  • conscious to himself of a different perception, when he looks on the sun
  • by day, and thinks on it by night; when he actually tastes wormwood, or
  • smells a rose, or only thinks on that savour or odour? We as plainly
  • find the difference there is between any idea revived in our minds by
  • our own memory, and actually coming into our minds by our senses, as we
  • do between any two distinct ideas. If any one say, a dream may do the
  • same thing, and all these ideas may be produced, in us without
  • any external objects; he may please to dream that I make him this
  • answer:--I. That it is no great matter, whether I remove his scruple or
  • no: where all is but dream, reasoning and arguments are of no use, truth
  • and knowledge nothing. 2. That I believe he will allow a very manifest
  • difference between dreaming of being in the fire, and being actually in
  • it. But yet if he be resolved to appear so sceptical as to maintain,
  • that what I call being actually in the fire is nothing but a dream;
  • and that we cannot thereby certainly know, that any such thing as fire
  • actually exists without us: I answer, That we certainly finding that
  • pleasure or pain follows upon the application of certain objects to us,
  • whose existence we perceive, or dream that we perceive, by our senses;
  • this certainty is as great as our happiness or misery, beyond which we
  • have no concernment to know or to be. So that, I think, we may add
  • to the two former sorts of knowledge this also, of the existence of
  • particular external objects, by that perception and consciousness we
  • have of the actual entrance of ideas from them, and allow these three
  • degrees of knowledge, viz. INTUITIVE, DEMONSTRATIVE, and SENSITIVE;
  • in each of which there are different degrees and ways of evidence and
  • certainty.
  • 15. Knowledge not always clear, where the Ideas that enter into it are
  • clear.
  • But since our knowledge is founded on and employed about our ideas only,
  • will it not follow from thence that it is conformable to our ideas; and
  • that where our ideas are clear and distinct, or obscure and confused,
  • our knowledge will be so too? To which I answer, No: for our knowledge
  • consisting in the perception of the agreement or disagreement of any two
  • ideas, its clearness or obscurity consists in the clearness or obscurity
  • of that perception, and not in the clearness or obscurity of the ideas
  • themselves: v. g. a man that has as clear ideas of the angles of a
  • triangle, and of equality to two right ones, as any mathematician in the
  • world, may yet have but a very obscure perception of their AGREEMENT,
  • and so have but a very obscure knowledge of it. [But ideas which, by
  • reason of their obscurity or otherwise, are confused, cannot produce any
  • clear or distinct knowledge; because, as far as any ideas are confused,
  • so far the mind cannot perceive clearly whether they agree or disagree.
  • Or to express the same thing in a way less apt to be misunderstood:
  • he that hath not determined ideas to the words he uses, cannot make
  • propositions of them of whose truth he can be certain.]
  • CHAPTER III.
  • OF THE EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE.
  • 1. Extent of our Knowledge.
  • Knowledge, as has been said, lying in the perception of the agreement or
  • disagreement of any of our ideas, it follows from hence, That,
  • First, it extends no further than we have Ideas.
  • First, we can have knowledge no further than we have IDEAS.
  • 2. Secondly, It extends no further than we can perceive their Agreement
  • or Disagreement.
  • Secondly, That we can have no knowledge further than we can have
  • PERCEPTION of that agreement or disagreement. Which perception being: 1.
  • Either by INTUITION, or the immediate comparing any two ideas; or, 2.
  • By REASON, examining the agreement or disagreement of two ideas, by
  • the intervention of some others; or, 3. By SENSATION, perceiving the
  • existence of particular things: hence it also follows:
  • 3. Thirdly, Intuitive Knowledge extends itself not to all the relation
  • of all our Ideas.
  • Thirdly, That we cannot have an INTUITIVE KNOWLEDGE that shall extend
  • itself to all our ideas, and all that we would know about them; because
  • we cannot examine and perceive all the relations they have one to
  • another, by juxta-position, or an immediate comparison one with another.
  • Thus, having the ideas of an obtuse and an acute angled triangle, both
  • drawn from equal bases, and between parallels, I can, by intuitive
  • knowledge, perceive the one not to be the other, but cannot that
  • way know whether they be equal or no; because their agreement or
  • disagreement in equality can never be perceived by an immediate
  • comparing them: the difference of figure makes their parts incapable
  • of an exact immediate application; and therefore there is need of some
  • intervening qualities to measure them by, which is demonstration, or
  • rational knowledge.
  • 4. Fourthly, Nor does Demonstrative Knowledge.
  • Fourthly, It follows, also, from what is above observed, that our
  • RATIONAL KNOWLEDGE cannot reach to the whole extent of our ideas:
  • because between two different ideas we would examine, we cannot always
  • find such mediums as we can connect one to another with an intuitive
  • knowledge in all the parts of the deduction; and wherever that fails, we
  • come short of knowledge and demonstration.
  • 5. Fifthly, Sensitive Knowledge narrower than either.
  • Fifthly, SENSITIVE KNOWLEDGE reaching no further than the existence of
  • things actually present to our senses, is yet much narrower than either
  • of the former.
  • 6. Sixthly, Our Knowledge, therefore narrower than our Ideas.
  • Sixthly, From all which it is evident, that the EXTENT OF OUR KNOWLEDGE
  • comes not only short of the reality of things, but even of the extent of
  • our own ideas. Though our knowledge be limited to our ideas, and cannot
  • exceed them either in extent or perfection; and though these be very
  • narrow bounds, in respect of the extent of All-being, and far short
  • of what we may justly imagine to be in some even created understandings,
  • not tied down to the dull and narrow information that is to be received
  • from some few, and not very acute, ways of perception, such as are our
  • senses; yet it would be well with us if our knowledge were but as large
  • as our ideas, and there were not many doubts and inquiries CONCERNING
  • THE IDEAS WE HAVE, whereof we are not, nor I believe ever shall be in
  • this world resolved. Nevertheless, I do not question but that
  • human knowledge, under the present circumstances of our beings and
  • constitutions, may be carried much further than it has hitherto been, if
  • men would sincerely, and with freedom of mind, employ all that industry
  • and labour of thought, in improving the means of discovering truth,
  • which they do for the colouring or support of falsehood, to maintain a
  • system, interest, or party they are once engaged in. But yet after all,
  • I think I may, without injury to human perfection, be confident,
  • that our knowledge would never reach to all we might desire to know
  • concerning those ideas we have; nor be able to surmount all the
  • difficulties, and resolve all the questions that might arise concerning
  • any of them. We have the ideas of a SQUARE, a CIRCLE, and EQUALITY; and
  • yet, perhaps, shall never be able to find a circle equal to a square,
  • and certainly know that it is so. We have the ideas of MATTER and
  • THINKING, but possibly shall never be able to know whether [any mere
  • material being] thinks or no; it being impossible for us, by the
  • contemplation of our own ideas, without revelation, to discover whether
  • Omnipotency has not given to some systems of matter, fitly disposed,
  • a power to perceive and think, or else joined and fixed to matter, so
  • disposed, a thinking immaterial substance: it being, in respect of our
  • notions, not much more remote from our comprehension to conceive that
  • GOD can, if he pleases, superadd to matter A FACULTY OF THINKING, than
  • that he should superadd to it ANOTHER SUBSTANCE WITH A FACULTY OF
  • THINKING; since we know not wherein thinking consists, nor to what sort
  • of substances the Almighty has been pleased to give that power, which
  • cannot be in any created being, but merely by the good pleasure and
  • bounty of the Creator. For I see no contradiction in it, that the first
  • Eternal thinking Being, or Omnipotent Spirit, should, if he pleased,
  • give to certain systems of created senseless matter, put together as he
  • thinks fit, some degrees of sense, perception, and thought: though, as
  • I think I have proved, lib. iv. ch. 10, Section 14, &c., it is no less
  • than a contradiction to suppose matter (which is evidently in its own
  • nature void of sense and thought) should be that Eternal first-thinking
  • Being. What certainty of knowledge can any one have, that some
  • perceptions, such as, v. g., pleasure and pain, should not be in some
  • bodies themselves, after a certain manner modified and moved, as well as
  • that they should be in an immaterial substance, upon the motion of the
  • parts of body: Body, as far as we can conceive, being able only to
  • strike and affect body, and motion, according to the utmost reach of our
  • ideas, being able to produce nothing but motion; so that when we allow
  • it to produce pleasure or pain, or the idea of a colour or sound, we are
  • fain to quit our reason, go beyond our ideas, and attribute it wholly to
  • the good pleasure of our Maker. For, since we must allow He has annexed
  • effects to motion which we can no way conceive motion able to produce,
  • what reason have we to conclude that He could not order them as well to
  • be produced in a subject we cannot conceive capable of them, as well as
  • in a subject we cannot conceive the motion of matter can any way operate
  • upon? I say not this, that I would any way lessen the belief of the
  • soul's immateriality: I am not here speaking of probability, but
  • knowledge, and I think not only that it becomes the modesty of
  • philosophy not to pronounce magisterially, where we want that evidence
  • that can produce knowledge; but also, that it is of use to us to discern
  • how far our knowledge does reach; for the state we are at present in,
  • not being that of vision, we must in many things content ourselves
  • with faith and probability: and in the present question, about
  • the Immateriality of the Soul, if our faculties cannot arrive at
  • demonstrative certainty, we need not think it strange. All the great
  • ends of morality and religion are well enough secured, without
  • philosophical proofs of the soul's immateriality; since it is evident,
  • that he who made us at the beginning to subsist here, sensible
  • intelligent beings, and for several years continued us in such a state,
  • can and will restore us to the like state of sensibility in another
  • world, and make us capable there to receive the retribution he has
  • designed to men, according to their doings in this life. [And therefore
  • it is not of such mighty necessity to determine one way or the other, as
  • some, over-zealous for or against the immateriality of the soul, have
  • been forward to make the world believe. Who, either on the one side,
  • indulging too much their thoughts immersed altogether in matter, can
  • allow no existence to what is not material: or who, on the other side,
  • finding not COGITATION within the natural powers of matter, examined
  • over and over again by the utmost intention of mind, have the confidence
  • to conclude--That Omnipotency itself cannot give perception and thought
  • to a substance which has the modification of solidity. He that considers
  • how hardly sensation is, in our thoughts, reconcilable to extended
  • matter; or existence to anything that has no extension at all, will
  • confess that he is very far from certainly knowing what his soul is.
  • It is a point which seems to me to be put out of the reach of our
  • knowledge: and he who will give himself leave to consider freely, and
  • look into the dark and intricate part of each hypothesis, will scarce
  • find his reason able to determine him fixedly for or against the soul's
  • materiality. Since, on which side soever he views it, either as an
  • UNEXTENDED SUBSTANCE, or as a THINKING EXTENDED MATTER, the difficulty
  • to conceive either will, whilst either alone is in his thoughts, still
  • drive him to the contrary side. An unfair way which some men take with
  • themselves: who, because of the inconceivableness of something they find
  • in one, throw themselves violently into the contrary hypothesis, though
  • altogether as unintelligible to an unbiassed understanding. This serves
  • not only to show the weakness and the scantiness of our knowledge, but
  • the insignificant triumph of such sort of arguments; which, drawn from
  • our own views, may satisfy us that we can find no certainty on one side
  • of the question: but do not at all thereby help us to truth by running
  • into the opposite opinion; which, on examination, will be found clogged
  • with equal difficulties. For what safety, what advantage to any one is
  • it, for the avoiding the seeming absurdities, and to him unsurmountable
  • rubs, he meets with in one opinion, to take refuge in the contrary,
  • which is built on something altogether as inexplicable, and as far
  • remote from his comprehension? It is past controversy, that we have in
  • us SOMETHING that thinks; our very doubts about what it is, confirm
  • the certainty of its being, though we must content ourselves in the
  • ignorance of what KIND of being it is: and it is in vain to go about to
  • be sceptical in this, as it is unreasonable in most other cases to be
  • positive against the being of anything, because we cannot comprehend
  • its nature. For I would fain know what substance exists, that has not
  • something in it which manifestly baffles our understandings. Other
  • spirits, who see and know the nature and inward constitution of things,
  • how much must they exceed us in knowledge? To which, if we add larger
  • comprehension, which enables them at one glance to see the connexion
  • and agreement of very many ideas, and readily supplies to them the
  • intermediate proofs, which we by single and slow steps, and long poring
  • in the dark, hardly at last find out, and are often ready to forget one
  • before we have hunted out another; we may guess at some part of the
  • happiness of superior ranks of spirits, who have a quicker and more
  • penetrating sight, as well as a larger field of knowledge.]
  • But to return to the argument in hand: our knowledge, I say, is not only
  • limited to the paucity and imperfections of the ideas we have, and which
  • we employ it about, but even comes short of that too: but how far it
  • reaches, let us now inquire.
  • 7. How far our Knowledge reaches.
  • The affirmations or negations we make concerning the ideas we have, may,
  • as I have before intimated in general, be reduced to these four sorts,
  • viz. identity, co-existence, relation, and real existence. I shall
  • examine how far our knowledge extends in each of these:
  • 8. Firstly, Our Knowledge of Identity and Diversity in ideas extends as
  • far as our Ideas themselves.
  • FIRST, as to IDENTITY and DIVERSITY. In this way of agreement or
  • disagreement of our ideas, our intuitive knowledge is as far extended
  • as our ideas themselves: and there can be no idea in the mind, which it
  • does not, presently, by an intuitive knowledge, perceive to be what it
  • is, and to be different from any other.
  • 9. Secondly, Of their Co-existence, extends only a very little way.
  • SECONDLY, as to the second sort, which is the agreement or disagreement
  • of our ideas in CO-EXISTENCE, in this our knowledge is very short;
  • though in this consists the greatest and most material part of our
  • knowledge concerning substances. For our ideas of the species of
  • substances being, as I have showed, nothing but certain collections of
  • simple ideas united in one subject, and so co-existing together; v.g.
  • our idea of flame is a body hot, luminous, and moving upward; of gold,
  • a body heavy to a certain degree, yellow, malleable, and fusible: for
  • these, or some such complex ideas as these, in men's minds, do these two
  • names of the different substances, flame and gold, stand for. When we
  • would know anything further concerning these, or any other sort of
  • substances, what do we inquire, but what OTHER qualities or powers these
  • substances have or have not? Which is nothing else but to know what
  • OTHER simple ideas do, or do not co-exist with those that make up that
  • complex idea?
  • 10. Because the Connexion between simple Ideas in substances is for the
  • most part unknown.
  • This, how weighty and considerable a part soever of human science, is
  • yet very narrow, and scarce any at all. The reason whereof is, that the
  • simple ideas whereof our complex ideas of substances are made up are,
  • for the most part, such as carry with them, in their own nature, no
  • VISIBLE NECESSARY connexion or inconsistency with any other simple
  • ideas, whose co-existence with them we would inform ourselves about.
  • 11. Especially of the secondary Qualities of Bodies.
  • The ideas that our complex ones of substances are made up of, and about
  • which our knowledge concerning substances is most employed, are those of
  • their secondary qualities; which depending all (as has been shown) upon
  • the primary qualities of their minute and insensible parts; or, if not
  • upon them, upon something yet more remote from our comprehension; it is
  • impossible we should know which have a NECESSARY union or inconsistency
  • one with another. For, not knowing the root they spring from, not
  • knowing what size, figure, and texture of parts they are, on which
  • depend, and from which result those qualities which make our complex
  • idea of gold, it is impossible we should know what OTHER qualities
  • result from, or are incompatible with, the same constitution of the
  • insensible parts of gold; and so consequently must always co-exist with
  • that complex idea we have of it, or else are inconsistent with it.
  • 12. Because necessary Connexion between any secondary and the primary
  • Qualities is undiscoverable by us.
  • Besides this ignorance of the primary qualities of the insensible parts
  • of bodies, on which depend all their secondary qualities, there is yet
  • another and more incurable part of ignorance, which sets us more remote
  • from a certain knowledge of the co-existence or INCO-EXISTENCE (if I may
  • so say) of different ideas in the same subject; and that is, that there
  • is no discoverable connexion between any secondary quality and those
  • primary qualities which it depends on.
  • 13. We have no perfect knowledge of their Primary Qualities.
  • That the size, figure, and motion of one body should cause a change
  • in the size, figure, and motion of another body, is not beyond our
  • conception; the separation of the parts of one body upon the intrusion
  • of another; and the change from rest to motion upon impulse; these and
  • the like seem to have SOME CONNEXION one with another. And if we knew
  • these primary qualities of bodies, we might have reason to hope we might
  • be able to know a great deal more of these operations of them one upon
  • another: but our minds not being able to discover any connexion betwixt
  • these primary qualities of bodies and the sensations that are produced
  • in us by them, we can never be able to establish certain and undoubted
  • rules of the CONSEQUENCE or CO-EXISTENCE of any secondary qualities,
  • though we could discover the size, figure, or motion of those invisible
  • parts which immediately produce them. We are so far from knowing WHAT
  • figure, size, or motion of parts produce a yellow colour, a sweet taste,
  • or a sharp sound, that we can by no means conceive how ANY size, figure,
  • or motion of any particles, can possibly produce in us the idea of any
  • colour, taste, or sound whatsoever: there is no conceivable connexion
  • between the one and the other.
  • 14. And seek in vain for certain and universal knowledge of unperceived
  • qualities in substances.
  • In vain, therefore, shall we endeavour to discover by our ideas (the
  • only true way of certain and universal knowledge) what other ideas are
  • to be found constantly joined with that of OUR complex idea of any
  • substance: since we neither know the real constitution of the minute
  • parts on which their qualities do depend; nor, did we know them,
  • could we discover any necessary connexion between them and any of
  • the secondary qualities: which is necessary to be done before we can
  • certainly know their necessary co-existence. So, that, let our complex
  • idea of any species of substances be what it will, we can hardly, from
  • the simple ideas contained in it, certainly determine the necessary
  • co-existence of any other quality whatsoever. Our knowledge in all these
  • inquiries reaches very little further than our experience. Indeed some
  • few of the primary qualities have a necessary dependence and visible
  • connexion one with another, as figure necessarily supposes extension;
  • receiving or communicating motion by impulse, supposes solidity. But
  • though these, and perhaps some others of our ideas have: yet there are
  • so few of them that have a visible connexion one with another, that we
  • can by intuition or demonstration discover the co-existence of very few
  • of the qualities that are to be found united in substances: and we are
  • left only to the assistance of our senses to make known to us what
  • qualities they contain. For of all the qualities that are co-existent
  • in any subject, without this dependence and evident connexion of their
  • ideas one with another, we cannot know certainly any two to co-exist,
  • any further than experience, by our senses, informs us. Thus, though we
  • see the yellow colour, and, upon trial, find the weight, malleableness,
  • fusibility, and fixedness that are united in a piece of gold; yet,
  • because no one of these ideas has any evident dependence or necessary
  • connexion with the other, we cannot certainly know that where any four
  • of these are, the fifth will be there also, how highly probable soever
  • it may be; because the highest probability amounts not to certainty,
  • without which there can be no true knowledge. For this co-existence can
  • be no further known than it is perceived; and it cannot be perceived but
  • either in particular subjects, by the observation of our senses, or, in
  • general, by the necessary connexion of the ideas themselves.
  • 15. Of Repugnancy to co-exist, our knowledge is larger.
  • As to the incompatibility or repugnancy to co-existence, we may know
  • that any subject may have of each sort of primary qualities but one
  • particular at once: v.g. each particular extension, figure, number of
  • parts, motion, excludes all other of each kind. The like also is certain
  • of all sensible ideas peculiar to each sense; for whatever of each kind
  • is present in any subject, excludes all other of that sort: v.g. no one
  • subject can have two smells or two colours at the same time. To this,
  • perhaps will be said, Has not an opal, or the infusion of LIGNUM
  • NEPHRITICUM, two colours at the same time? To which I answer, that
  • these bodies, to eyes differently, placed, may at the same time afford
  • different colours: but I take liberty also to say, that, to eyes
  • differently placed, it is different parts of the object that reflect the
  • particles of light: and therefore it is not the same part of the object,
  • and so not the very same subject, which at the same time appears both
  • yellow and azure. For, it is as impossible that the very same particle
  • of any body should at the same time differently modify or reflect the
  • rays of light, as that it should have two different figures and textures
  • at the same time.
  • 16. Our Knowledge of the Co-existence of Power in Bodies extends but a
  • very little Way.
  • But as to the powers of substances to change the sensible qualities of
  • other bodies, which make a great part of our inquiries about them, and
  • is no inconsiderable branch of our knowledge; I doubt as to these,
  • whether our knowledge reaches much further than our experience; or
  • whether we can come to the discovery of most of these powers, and be
  • certain that they are in any subject, by the connexion with any of those
  • ideas which to us make its essence. Because the active and passive
  • powers of bodies, and their ways of operating, consisting in a texture
  • and motion of parts which we cannot by any means come to discover; it is
  • but in very few cases we can be able to perceive their dependence on,
  • or repugnance to, any of those ideas which make our complex one of that
  • sort of things. I have here instanced in the corpuscularian hypothesis,
  • as that which is thought to go furthest in an intelligible explication
  • of those qualities of bodies; and I fear the weakness of human
  • understanding is scarce able to substitute another, which will afford
  • us a fuller and clearer discovery of the necessary connexion and
  • co-existence of the powers which are to be observed united in several
  • sorts of them. This at least is certain, that, whichever hypothesis be
  • clearest and truest, (for of that it is not my business to determine,)
  • our knowledge concerning corporeal substances will be very little
  • advanced by any of them, till we are made to see what qualities and
  • powers of bodies have a NECESSARY connexion or repugnancy one with
  • another; which in the present state of philosophy I think we know but to
  • a very small degree: and I doubt whether, with those faculties we
  • have, we shall ever be able to carry our general knowledge (I say not
  • particular experience) in this part much further. Experience is that
  • which in this part we must depend on. And it were to be wished that it
  • were more improved. We find the advantages some men's generous pains
  • have this way brought to the stock of natural knowledge. And if others,
  • especially the philosophers by fire, who pretend to it, had been so wary
  • in their observations, and sincere in their reports as those who call
  • themselves philosophers ought to have been, our acquaintance with the
  • bodies here about us, and our insight into their powers and operations
  • had been yet much greater.
  • 17. Of the Powers that co-exist in Spirits yet narrower.
  • If we are at a loss in respect of the powers and operations of bodies, I
  • think it is easy to conclude we are much more in the dark in reference
  • to spirits; whereof we naturally have no ideas but what we draw from
  • that of our own, by reflecting on the operations of our own souls
  • within us, as far as they can come within our observation. But how
  • inconsiderable a rank the spirits that inhabit our bodies hold amongst
  • those various and possibly innumerable kinds of nobler beings; and how
  • far short they come of the endowments and perfections of cherubim and
  • seraphim, and infinite sorts of spirits above us, is what by a transient
  • hint in another place I have offered to my reader's consideration.
  • 18. Thirdly, Of Relations between abstracted ideas it is not easy to say
  • how far our knowledge extends.
  • THIRDLY, As to the third sort of our knowledge, viz. the agreement or
  • disagreement of any of our ideas in any other relation: this, as it is
  • the largest field of our knowledge, so it is hard to determine how
  • far it may extend: because the advances that are made in this part of
  • knowledge, depending on our sagacity in finding intermediate ideas, that
  • may show the relations and habitudes of ideas whose co-existence is not
  • considered, it is a hard matter to tell when we are at an end of such
  • discoveries; and when reason has all the helps it is capable of, for the
  • finding of proofs, or examining the agreement or disagreement of remote
  • ideas. They that are ignorant of Algebra cannot imagine the wonders in
  • this kind are to be done by it: and what further improvements and helps
  • advantageous to other parts of knowledge the sagacious mind of man may
  • yet find out, it is not easy to determine. This at least I believe,
  • that the IDEAS OF QUANTITY are not those alone that are capable of
  • demonstration and knowledge; and that other, and perhaps more useful,
  • parts of contemplation, would afford us certainty, if vices, passions,
  • and domineering interest did not oppose or menace such endeavours.
  • Morality capable of Demonstration
  • The idea of a supreme Being, infinite in power, goodness, and wisdom,
  • whose workmanship we are, and on whom we depend; and the idea of
  • ourselves, as understanding, rational creatures, being such as are clear
  • in us, would, I suppose, if duly considered and pursued, afford such
  • foundations of our duty and rules of action as might place MORALITY
  • amongst the SCIENCES CAPABLE OF DEMONSTRATION: wherein I doubt not
  • but from self-evident propositions, by necessary consequences, as
  • incontestible as those in mathematics, the measures of right and wrong
  • might be made out, to any one that will apply himself with the same
  • indifferency and attention to the one as he does to the other of these
  • sciences. The RELATION of other MODES may certainly be perceived, as
  • well as those of number and extension: and I cannot see why they should
  • not also be capable of demonstration, if due methods were thought on to
  • examine or pursue their agreement or disagreement. 'Where there is no
  • property there is no injustice,' is a proposition as certain as any
  • demonstration in Euclid: for the idea of property being a right to
  • anything, and the idea of which the name 'injustice' is given being the
  • invasion or violation of that right, it is evident that these ideas,
  • being thus established, and these names annexed to them, I can as
  • certainly know this proposition to be true, as that a triangle has three
  • angles equal to two right ones. Again: 'No government allows absolute
  • liberty.' The idea of government being the establishment of society upon
  • certain rules or laws which require conformity to them; and the idea of
  • absolute liberty being for any one to do whatever he pleases; I am as
  • capable of being certain of the truth of this proposition as of any in
  • the mathematics.
  • 19. Two things have made moral Ideas to be thought incapable of
  • Demonstration: their unfitness for sensible representation, and their
  • complexedness.
  • That which in this respect has given the advantage to the ideas
  • of quantity, and made them thought more capable of certainty and
  • demonstration, is,
  • First, That they can be set down and represented by sensible marks,
  • which have a greater and nearer correspondence with them than any words
  • or sounds whatsoever. Diagrams drawn on paper are copies of the ideas in
  • the mind, and not liable to the uncertainty that words carry in their
  • signification. An angle, circle, or square, drawn in lines, lies open to
  • the view, and cannot be mistaken: it remains unchangeable, and may at
  • leisure be considered and examined, and the demonstration be revised,
  • and all the parts of it may be gone over more than once, without any
  • danger of the least change in the ideas. This cannot be thus done in
  • moral ideas: we have no sensible marks that resemble them, whereby we
  • can set them down; we have nothing but words to express them by; which,
  • though when written they remain the same, yet the ideas they stand for
  • may change in the same man; and it is very seldom that they are not
  • different in different persons.
  • Secondly, Another thing that makes the greater difficulty in ethics is,
  • That moral ideas are commonly more complex than those of the
  • figures ordinarily considered in mathematics. From whence these two
  • inconveniences follow:--First, that their names are of more uncertain
  • signification, the precise collection of simple ideas they stand for
  • not being so easily agreed on; and so the sign that is used for them in
  • communication always, and in thinking often, does not steadily carry
  • with it the same idea. Upon which the same disorder, confusion, and
  • error follow, as would if a man, going to demonstrate something of an
  • heptagon, should, in the diagram he took to do it, leave out one of the
  • angles, or by oversight make the figure with one angle more than the
  • name ordinarily imported, or he intended it should when at first
  • he thought of his demonstration. This often happens, and is hardly
  • avoidable in very complex moral ideas, where the same name being
  • retained, one angle, i.e. one simple idea, is left out, or put in the
  • complex one (still called by the same name) more at one time than
  • another. Secondly, From the complexedness of these moral ideas there
  • follows another inconvenience, viz. that the mind cannot easily retain
  • those precise combinations so exactly and perfectly as is necessary in
  • the examination of the habitudes and correspondences, agreements or
  • disagreements, of several of them one with another; especially where it
  • is to be judged of by long deductions, and the intervention of several
  • other complex ideas to show the agreement or disagreement of two remote
  • ones.
  • The great help against this which mathematicians find in diagrams and
  • figures, which remain unalterable in their draughts, is very apparent,
  • and the memory would often have great difficulty otherwise to retain
  • them so exactly, whilst the mind went over the parts of them step by
  • step to examine their several correspondences. And though in casting up
  • a long sum either in addition, multiplication, or division, every part
  • be only a progression of the mind taking a view of its own ideas, and
  • considering their agreement or disagreement, and the resolution of
  • the question be nothing but the result of the whole, made up of such
  • particulars, whereof the mind has a clear perception: yet, without
  • setting down the several parts by marks, whose precise significations
  • are known, and by marks that last, and remain in view when the memory
  • had let them go, it would be almost impossible to carry so many
  • different ideas in the mind, without confounding or letting slip some
  • parts of the reckoning, and thereby making all our reasonings about it
  • useless. In which case the cyphers or marks help not the mind at all to
  • perceive the agreement of any two or more numbers, their equalities or
  • proportions; that the mind has only by intuition of its own ideas of
  • the numbers themselves. But the numerical characters are helps to
  • the memory, to record and retain the several ideas about which the
  • demonstration is made, whereby a man may know how far his intuitive
  • knowledge in surveying several of the particulars has proceeded; that so
  • he may without confusion go on to what is yet unknown; and at last have
  • in one view before him the result of all his perceptions and reasonings.
  • 20. Remedies of our Difficulties in dealing demonstratively with moral
  • ideas.
  • One part of these disadvantages in moral ideas which has made them be
  • thought not capable of demonstration, may in a good measure be remedied
  • by definitions, setting down that collection of simple ideas, which
  • every term shall stand for; and then using the terms steadily and
  • constantly for that precise collection. And what methods algebra, or
  • something of that kind, may hereafter suggest, to remove the other
  • difficulties, it is not easy to foretell. Confident I am, that, if men
  • would in the same method, and with the same indifferency, search after
  • moral as they do mathematical truths, they would find them have a
  • stronger connexion one with another, and a more necessary consequence
  • from our clear and distinct ideas, and to come nearer perfect
  • demonstration than is commonly imagined. But much of this is not to
  • be expected, whilst the desire of esteem, riches, or power makes men
  • espouse the well-endowed opinions in fashion, and then seek arguments
  • either to make good their beauty, or varnish over and cover their
  • deformity. Nothing being so beautiful to the eye as truth is to the
  • mind; nothing so deformed and irreconcilable to the understanding as a
  • lie. For though many a man can with satisfaction enough own a no very
  • handsome wife in his bosom; yet who is bold enough openly to avow that
  • he has espoused a falsehood, and received into his breast so ugly a
  • thing as a lie? Whilst the parties of men cram their tenets down all
  • men's throats whom they can get into their power, without permitting
  • them to examine their truth or falsehood; and will not let truth have
  • fair play in the world, nor men the liberty to search after it; what
  • improvements can be expected of this kind? What greater light can be
  • hoped for in the moral sciences? The subject part of mankind in most
  • places might, instead thereof, with Egyptian bondage, expect Egyptian
  • darkness, were not the candle of the Lord set up by himself in men's
  • minds, which it is impossible for the breath or power of man wholly to
  • extinguish.
  • 21. Fourthly, Of the three real Existences of which we have certain
  • knowledge.
  • FOURTHLY, As to the fourth sort of our knowledge, viz. of the REAL
  • ACTUAL EXISTENCE OF THINGS, we have an intuitive knowledge of OUR OWN
  • EXISTENCE, and a demonstrative knowledge of the existence of a GOD:
  • of the existence of ANYTHING ELSE, we have no other but a sensitive
  • knowledge; which extends not beyond the objects present to our senses.
  • 22. Our Ignorance great.
  • Our knowledge being so narrow, as I have shown, it will perhaps give us
  • some light into the present state of our minds if we look a little into
  • the dark side, and take a view of OUR IGNORANCE; which, being infinitely
  • larger than our knowledge, may serve much to the quieting of disputes,
  • and improvement of useful knowledge; if, discovering how far we
  • have clear and distinct ideas, we confine our thoughts within the
  • contemplation of those things that are within the reach of our
  • understandings, and launch not out into that abyss of darkness, (where
  • we have not eyes to see, nor faculties to perceive anything), out of
  • a presumption that nothing is beyond our comprehension. But to be
  • satisfied of the folly of such a conceit, we need not go far. He that
  • knows anything, knows this, in the first place, that he need not seek
  • long for instances of his ignorance. The meanest and most obvious things
  • that come in our way have dark sides, that the quickest sight cannot
  • penetrate into. The clearest and most enlarged understandings of
  • thinking men find themselves puzzled and at a loss in every particle of
  • matter. We shall the less wonder to find it so, when we consider the
  • CAUSES OF OUR IGNORANCE; which, from what has been said, I suppose will
  • be found to be these three:--
  • First, Want of ideas. Its causes.
  • Secondly, Want of a discoverable connexion between the ideas we have.
  • Thirdly, Want of tracing and examining our ideas.
  • 23. First, One Cause of our ignorance Want of Ideas.
  • I. Want of simple ideas that other creatures in other parts of the
  • universe may have.
  • FIRST, There are some things, and those not a few, that we are ignorant
  • of, for want of ideas.
  • First, all the simple ideas we have are confined (as I have shown) to
  • those we receive from corporeal objects by sensation, and from the
  • operations of our own minds as the objects of reflection. But how much
  • these few and narrow inlets are disproportionate to the vast whole
  • extent of all beings, will not be hard to persuade those who are not so
  • foolish as to think their span the measure of all things. What other
  • simple ideas it is possible the creatures in other parts of the universe
  • may have, by the assistance of senses and faculties more or perfecter
  • than we have, or different from ours, it is not for us to determine. But
  • to say or think there are no such, because we conceive nothing of them,
  • is no better an argument than if a blind man should be positive in it,
  • that there was no such thing as sight and colours, because he had no
  • manner of idea of any such thing, nor could by any means frame to
  • himself any notions about seeing. The ignorance and darkness that is in
  • us no more hinders nor confines the knowledge that is in others, than
  • the blindness of a mole is an argument against the quicksightedness of
  • an eagle. He that will consider the infinite power, wisdom, and goodness
  • of the Creator of all things will find reason to think it was not all
  • laid out upon so inconsiderable, mean, and impotent a creature as he
  • will find man to be; who in all probability is one of the lowest of
  • all intellectual beings. What faculties, therefore, other species of
  • creatures have to penetrate into the nature and inmost constitutions of
  • things; what ideas they may receive of them far different from ours, we
  • know not. This we know and certainly find, that we want several other
  • views of them besides those we have, to make discoveries of them more
  • perfect. And we may be convinced that the ideas we can attain to by
  • our faculties are very disproportionate to things themselves, when
  • a positive, clear, distinct one of substance itself, which is the
  • foundation of all the rest, is concealed from us. But want of ideas of
  • this kind, being a part as well as cause of our ignorance, cannot be
  • described. Only this I think I may confidently say of it, That the
  • intellectual and sensible world are in this perfectly alike: that that
  • part which we see of either of them holds no proportion with what we see
  • not; and whatsoever we can reach with our eyes or our thoughts of either
  • of them is but a point, almost nothing in comparison of the the rest.
  • 24. Want of simple ideas that men are capable of having, but having
  • not,(1) Because their remoteness, or,
  • Secondly, Another great cause of ignorance is the want of ideas we are
  • capable of. As the want of ideas which our faculties are not able
  • to give us shuts us wholly from those views of things which it is
  • reasonable to think other beings, perfecter than we, have, of which we
  • know nothing; so the want of ideas I now speak of keeps us in ignorance
  • of things we conceive capable of being known to us. Bulk, figure, and
  • motion we have ideas of. But though we are not without ideas of these
  • primary qualities of bodies in general, yet not knowing what is the
  • particular bulk, figure, and motion, of the greatest part of the bodies
  • of the universe, we are ignorant of the several powers, efficacies, and
  • ways of operation, whereby the effects which we daily see are produced.
  • These are hid from us, in some things by being too remote, and in others
  • by being too minute. When we consider the vast distance of the known and
  • visible parts of the world, and the reasons we have to think that what
  • lies within our ken is but a small part of the universe, we shall then
  • discover a huge abyss of ignorance. What are the particular fabrics of
  • the great masses of matter which make up the whole stupendous frame of
  • corporeal beings; how far they are extended; what is their motion, and
  • how continued or communicated; and what influence they have one upon
  • another, are contemplations that at first glimpse our thoughts lose
  • themselves in. If we narrow our contemplations, and confine our thoughts
  • to this little canton--I mean this system of our sun, and the grosser
  • masses of matter that visibly move about it, What several sorts of
  • vegetables, animals, and intellectual corporeal beings, infinitely
  • different from those of our little spot of earth, may there probably be
  • in the other planets, to the knowledge of which, even of their outward
  • figures and parts, we can no way attain whilst we are confined to this
  • earth; there being no natural means, either by sensation or reflection,
  • to convey their certain ideas into our minds? They are out of the reach
  • of those inlets of all our knowledge: and what sorts of furniture and
  • inhabitants those mansions contain in them we cannot so much as guess,
  • much less have clear and distinct ideas of them.
  • 25. (2) Because of their Minuteness.
  • If a great, nay, far the greatest part of the several ranks of bodies
  • in the universe escape our notice by their remoteness, there are others
  • that are no less concealed from us by their minuteness. These INSENSIBLE
  • CORPUSCLES, being the active parts of matter, and the great instruments
  • of nature, on which depend not only all their secondary qualities, but
  • also most of their natural operations, our want of precise distinct
  • ideas of their primary qualities keeps us in an incurable ignorance of
  • what we desire to know about them. I doubt not but if we could discover
  • the figure, size, texture, and motion of the minute constituent parts of
  • any two bodies, we should know without trial several of their operations
  • one upon another; as we do now the properties of a square or a triangle.
  • Did we know the mechanical affections of the particles of rhubarb,
  • hemlock, opium, and a man, as a watchmaker does those of a watch,
  • whereby it performs its operations; and of a file, which by rubbing on
  • them will alter the figure of any of the wheels; we should be able to
  • tell beforehand that rhubarb will purge, hemlock kill, and opium make
  • a man sleep: as well as a watchmaker can, that a little piece of paper
  • laid on the balance will keep the watch from going till it be removed;
  • or that, some small part of it being rubbed by a file, the machine would
  • quite lose its motion, and the watch go no more. The dissolving of
  • silver in AQUA FORTIS, and gold in AQUA REGIA, and not VICE VERSA, would
  • be then perhaps no more difficult to know than it is to a smith to
  • understand why the turning of one key will open a lock, and not the
  • turning of another. But whilst we are destitute of senses acute enough
  • to discover the minute particles of bodies, and to give us ideas of
  • their mechanical affections, we must be content to be ignorant of their
  • properties and ways of operation; nor can we be assured about them any
  • further than some few trials we make are able to reach. But whether they
  • will succeed again another time, we cannot be certain. This hinders our
  • certain knowledge of universal truths concerning natural bodies: and our
  • reason carries us herein very little beyond particular matter of fact.
  • 26. Hence no Science of Bodies within our reach.
  • And therefore I am apt to doubt that, how far soever human industry
  • may advance useful and experimental philosophy in physical things,
  • SCIENTIFICAL will still be out of our reach: because we want perfect and
  • adequate ideas of those very bodies which are nearest to us, and most
  • under our command. Those which we have ranked into classes under names,
  • and we think ourselves best acquainted with, we have but very imperfect
  • and incomplete ideas of. Distinct ideas of the several sorts of bodies
  • that fall under the examination of our senses perhaps we may have: but
  • adequate ideas, I suspect, we have not of any one amongst them. And
  • though the former of these will serve us for common use and discourse,
  • yet whilst we want the latter, we are not capable of scientifical
  • knowledge; nor shall ever be able to discover general, instructive,
  • unquestionable truths concerning them. CERTAINTY and DEMONSTRATION are
  • things we must not, in these matters, pretend to. By the colour, figure,
  • taste, and smell, and other sensible qualities, we have as clear and
  • distinct ideas of sage and hemlock, as we have of a circle and a
  • triangle: but having no ideas of the particular primary qualities of the
  • minute parts of either of these plants, nor of other bodies which we
  • would apply them to, we cannot tell what effects they will produce; nor
  • when we see those effects can we so much as guess, much less know, their
  • manner of production. Thus, having no ideas of the particular mechanical
  • affections of the minute parts of bodies that are within our view and
  • reach, we are ignorant of their constitutions, powers, and operations:
  • and of bodies more remote we are yet more ignorant, not knowing so much
  • as their very outward shapes, or the sensible and grosser parts of their
  • constitutions.
  • 27. Much less a science of unembodied Spirits.
  • This at first will show us how disproportionate our knowledge is to
  • the whole extent even of material beings; to which if we add the
  • consideration of that infinite number of spirits that may be, and
  • probably are, which are yet more remote from our knowledge, whereof we
  • have no cognizance, nor can frame to ourselves any distinct ideas of
  • their several ranks and sorts, we shall find this cause of ignorance
  • conceal from us, in an impenetrable obscurity, almost the whole
  • intellectual world; a greater certainly, and more beautiful world than
  • the material. For, bating some very few, and those, if I may so call
  • them, superficial ideas of spirit, which by reflection we get of our
  • own, and from thence the best we can collect of the Father of all
  • spirits, the eternal independent Author of them, and us, and all things,
  • we have no certain information, so much as of the existence of other
  • spirits, but by revelation. Angels of all sorts are naturally beyond our
  • discovery; and all those intelligences, whereof it is likely there are
  • more orders than of corporeal substances, are things whereof our natural
  • faculties give us no certain account at all. That there are minds and
  • thinking beings in other men as well as himself, every man has a reason,
  • from their words and actions, to be satisfied: and the knowledge of his
  • own mind cannot suffer a man that considers, to be ignorant that there
  • is a God. But that there are degrees of spiritual beings between us and
  • the great God, who is there, that, by his own search and ability, can
  • come to know? Much less have we distinct ideas of their different
  • natures, conditions, states, powers, and several constitutions wherein
  • they agree or differ from one another and from us. And, therefore, in
  • what concerns their different species and properties we are in absolute
  • ignorance.
  • 28. Secondly, Another cause, Want of a discoverable Connexion between
  • Ideas we have.
  • SECONDLY, What a small part of the substantial beings that are in the
  • universe the want of ideas leaves open to our knowledge, we have seen.
  • In the next place, another cause of ignorance, of no less moment, is
  • a want of a discoverable connection between those ideas we have. For
  • wherever we want that, we are utterly incapable of universal and certain
  • knowledge; and are, in the former case, left only to observation and
  • experiment: which, how narrow and confined it is, how far from general
  • knowledge we need not be told. I shall give some few instances of this
  • cause of our ignorance, and so leave it. It is evident that the bulk,
  • figure, and motion of several bodies about us produce in us several
  • sensations, as of colours, sounds, tastes, smells, pleasure, and pain,
  • &c. These mechanical affections of bodies having no affinity at all with
  • those ideas they produce in us, (there being no conceivable connexion
  • between any impulse of any sort of body and any perception of a colour
  • or smell which we find in our minds,) we can have no distinct knowledge
  • of such operations beyond our experience; and can reason no otherwise
  • about them, than as effects produced by the appointment of an infinitely
  • Wise Agent, which perfectly surpass our comprehensions. As the ideas of
  • sensible secondary qualities which we have in our minds, can by us be no
  • way deduced from bodily causes, nor any correspondence or connexion be
  • found between them and those primary qualities which (experience shows
  • us) produce them in us; so, on the other side, the operation of our
  • minds upon our bodies is as inconceivable. How any thought should
  • produce a motion in body is as remote from the nature of our ideas, as
  • how any body should produce any thought in the mind. That it is so,
  • if experience did not convince us, the consideration of the things
  • themselves would never be able in the least to discover to us. These,
  • and the like, though they have a constant and regular connexion in the
  • ordinary course of things; yet that connexion being not discoverable in
  • the ideas themselves, which appearing to have no necessary dependence
  • one on another, we can attribute their connexion to nothing else but the
  • arbitrary determination of that All-wise Agent who has made them to be,
  • and to operate as they do, in a way wholly above our weak understandings
  • to conceive.
  • 29. Instances
  • In some of our ideas there are certain relations, habitudes, and
  • connexions, so visibly included in the nature of the ideas themselves,
  • that we cannot conceive them separable from them by any power
  • whatsoever. And in these only we are capable of certain and universal
  • knowledge. Thus the idea of a right-lined triangle necessarily carries
  • with it an equality of its angles to two right ones. Nor can we conceive
  • this relation, this connexion of these two ideas, to be possibly
  • mutable, or to depend on any arbitrary power, which of choice made it
  • thus, or could make it otherwise. But the coherence and continuity of
  • the parts of matter; the production of sensation in us of colours
  • and sounds, &c., by impulse and motion; nay, the original rules and
  • communication of motion being such, wherein we can discover no natural
  • connexion with any ideas we have, we cannot but ascribe them to the
  • arbitrary will and good pleasure of the Wise Architect. I need not, I
  • think, here mention the resurrection of the dead, the future state of
  • this globe of earth, and such other things, which are by every one
  • acknowledged to depend wholly on the determination of a free agent. The
  • things that, as far as our observation reaches, we constantly find to
  • proceed regularly, we may conclude do act by a law set them; but yet
  • by a law that we know not: whereby, though causes work steadily, and
  • effects constantly flow from them, yet their connexions and dependencies
  • being not discoverable in our ideas, we can have but an experimental
  • knowledge of them. From all which it is easy to perceive what a darkness
  • we are involved in, how little it is of Being, and the things that are,
  • that we are capable to know. And therefore we shall do no injury to our
  • knowledge, when we modestly think with ourselves, that we are so far
  • from being able to comprehend the whole nature of the universe, and all
  • the things contained in it, that we are not capable of a philosophical
  • knowledge of the bodies that are about us, and make a part of us:
  • concerning their secondary qualities, powers, and operations, we can
  • have no universal certainty. Several effects come every day within the
  • notice of our senses, of which we have so far sensitive knowledge: but
  • the causes, manner, and certainty of their production, for the two
  • foregoing reasons, we must be content to be very ignorant of. In these
  • we can go no further than particular experience informs us of matter of
  • fact, and by analogy to guess what effects the like bodies are, upon
  • other trials, like to produce. But as to a PERFECT SCIENCE of natural
  • bodies, (not to mention spiritual beings,) we are, I think, so far from
  • being capable of any such thing, that I conclude it lost labour to seek
  • after it.
  • 30. Thirdly A third cause, Want of Tracing our ideas.
  • THIRDLY, Where we have adequate ideas, and where there is a certain and
  • discoverable connexion between them, yet we are often ignorant, for
  • want of tracing those ideas which we have or may have; and for want of
  • finding out those intermediate ideas, which may show us what habitude of
  • agreement or disagreement they have one with another. And thus many are
  • ignorant of mathematical truths, not out of any imperfection of their
  • faculties, or uncertainty in the things themselves, but for want of
  • application in acquiring, examining, and by due ways comparing those
  • ideas. That which has most contributed to hinder the due tracing of our
  • ideas, and finding out their relations, and agreements or disagreements,
  • one with another, has been, I suppose, the ill use of words. It is
  • impossible that men should ever truly seek or certainly discover the
  • agreement or disagreement of ideas themselves, whilst their thoughts
  • flutter about, or stick only in sounds of doubtful and uncertain
  • significations. Mathematicians abstracting their thoughts from names,
  • and accustoming themselves to set before their minds the ideas
  • themselves that they would consider, and not sounds instead of them,
  • have avoided thereby a great part of that perplexity, puddering, and
  • confusion, which has so much hindered men's progress in other parts of
  • knowledge. For whilst they stick in words of undetermined and uncertain
  • signification, they are unable to distinguish true from false, certain
  • from probable, consistent from inconsistent, in their own opinions. This
  • having been the fate or misfortune of a great part of men of letters,
  • the increase brought into the stock of real knowledge has been very
  • little, in proportion to the schools disputes, and writings, the world
  • has been filled with; whilst students, being lost in the great wood of
  • words, knew not whereabouts they were, how far their discoveries were
  • advanced, or what was wanting in their own, or the general stock of
  • knowledge. Had men, in the discoveries of the material, done as they
  • have in those of the intellectual world, involved all in the obscurity
  • of uncertain and doubtful ways of talking, volumes writ of navigation
  • and voyages, theories and stories of zones and tides, multiplied and
  • disputed; nay, ships built, and fleets sent out, would never have taught
  • us the way beyond the line; and the Antipodes would be still as much
  • unknown, as when it was declared heresy to hold there were any. But
  • having spoken sufficiently of words, and the ill or careless use that is
  • commonly made of them, I shall not say anything more of it here.
  • 31. Extent of Human Knowledge in respect to its Universality.
  • Hitherto we have examined the extent of our knowledge, in respect of
  • the several sorts of beings that are. There is another extent of it, in
  • respect of UNIVERSALITY, which will also deserve to be considered; and
  • in this regard, our knowledge follows the nature of our ideas. If the
  • ideas are abstract, whose agreement or disagreement we perceive, our
  • knowledge is universal. For what is known of such general ideas, will be
  • true of every particular thing in whom that essence, i.e. that abstract
  • idea, is to be found: and what is once known of such ideas, will be
  • perpetually and for ever true. So that as to all GENERAL KNOWLEDGE we
  • must search and find it only in our minds; and it is only the examining
  • of our own ideas that furnisheth us with that. Truths belonging to
  • essences of things (that is, to abstract ideas) are eternal; and are
  • to be found out by the contemplation only of those essences: as the
  • existence of things is to be known only from experience. But having more
  • to say of this in the chapters where I shall speak of general and real
  • knowledge, this may here suffice as to the universality of our knowledge
  • in general.
  • CHAPTER IV. OF THE REALITY OF KNOWLEDGE.
  • 1. Objection. 'Knowledge placed in our Ideas may be all unreal or
  • chimerical'
  • I DOUBT not but my reader, by this time, may be apt to think that I have
  • been all this while only building a castle in the air; and be ready to
  • say to me:--
  • 'To what purpose all this stir? Knowledge, say you, is only the
  • perception of the agreement or disagreement of our own ideas: but who
  • knows what those ideas may be? Is there anything so extravagant as the
  • imaginations of men's brains? Where is the head that has no chimeras in
  • it? Or if there be a sober and a wise man, what difference will
  • there be, by your rules, between his knowledge and that of the most
  • extravagant fancy in the world? They both have their ideas, and perceive
  • their agreement and disagreement one with another. If there be any
  • difference between them, the advantage will be on the warm-headed man's
  • side, as having the more ideas, and the more lively. And so, by your
  • rules, he will be the more knowing. If it be true, that all knowledge
  • lies only in the perception of the agreement or disagreement of our own
  • ideas, the visions of an enthusiast and the reasonings of a sober man
  • will be equally certain. It is no matter how things are: so a man
  • observe but the agreement of his own imaginations, and talk conformably,
  • it is all truth, all certainty. Such castles in the air will be as
  • strongholds of truth, as the demonstrations of Euclid. That an harpy is
  • not a centaur is by this way as certain knowledge, and as much a truth,
  • as that a square is not a circle.
  • 'But of what use is all this fine knowledge of MEN'S OWN IMAGINATIONS,
  • to a man that inquires after the reality of things? It matters not what
  • men's fancies are, it is the knowledge of things that is only to be
  • prized: it is this alone gives a value to our reasonings, and preference
  • to one man's knowledge over another's, that it is of things as they
  • really are, and not of dreams and fancies.'
  • 2. Answer Not so, where Ideas agree with Things.
  • To which I answer, That if our knowledge of our ideas terminate in them,
  • and reach no further, where there is something further intended, our
  • most serious thoughts will be of little more use than the reveries of
  • a crazy brain; and the truths built thereon of no more weight than the
  • discourses of a man who sees things clearly in a dream, and with great
  • assurance utters them. But I hope, before I have done, to make it
  • evident, that this way of certainty, by the knowledge of our own ideas,
  • goes a little further than bare imagination: and I believe it will
  • appear that all the certainty of general truths a man has lies in
  • nothing else.
  • 3. But what shall be the criterion of this agreement?
  • It is evident the mind knows not things immediately, but only by the
  • intervention of the ideas it has of them. Our knowledge, therefore, is
  • real only so far as there is a CONFORMITY between our ideas and the
  • reality of things. But what shall be here the criterion? How shall the
  • mind, when it perceives nothing but its own ideas, know that they agree
  • with things themselves? This, though it seems not to want difficulty,
  • yet, I think, there be two sorts of ideas that we may be assured agree
  • with things.
  • 4. As, First All Simple Ideas are really conformed to Things.
  • FIRST, The first are simple ideas, which since the mind, as has been
  • showed, can by no means make to itself, must necessarily be the product
  • of things operating on the mind, in a natural way, and producing therein
  • those perceptions which by the Wisdom and Will of our Maker they are
  • ordained and adapted to. From whence it follows, that simple ideas are
  • not fictions of our fancies, but the natural and regular productions of
  • things without us, really operating upon us; and so carry with them all
  • the conformity which is intended; or which our state requires: for they
  • represent to us things under those appearances which they are fitted
  • to produce in us: whereby we are enabled to distinguish the sorts of
  • particular substances, to discern the states they are in, and so to take
  • them for our necessities, and apply them to our uses. Thus the idea of
  • whiteness, or bitterness, as it is in the mind, exactly answering
  • that power which is in any body to produce it there, has all the real
  • conformity it can or ought to have, with things without us. And this
  • conformity between our simple ideas and the existence of things, is
  • sufficient for real knowledge.
  • 5. Secondly, All Complex Ideas, except ideas of Substances, are their
  • own archetypes.
  • Secondly, All our complex ideas, EXCEPT THOSE OF SUBSTANCES, being
  • archetypes of the mind's own making, not intended to be the copies
  • of anything, nor referred to the existence of anything, as to their
  • originals, cannot want any conformity necessary to real knowledge. For
  • that which is not designed to represent anything but itself, can never
  • be capable of a wrong representation, nor mislead us from the true
  • apprehension of anything, by its dislikeness to it: and such, excepting
  • those of substances, are all our complex ideas. Which, as I have showed
  • in another place, are combinations of ideas, which the mind, by its free
  • choice, puts together, without considering any connexion they have in
  • nature. And hence it is, that in all these sorts the ideas themselves
  • are considered as the archetypes, and things no otherwise regarded, but
  • as they are conformable to them. So that we cannot but be infallibly
  • certain, that all the knowledge we attain concerning these ideas is
  • real, and reaches things themselves. Because in all our thoughts,
  • reasonings, and discourses of this kind, we intend things no further
  • than as they are conformable to our ideas. So that in these we cannot
  • miss of a certain and undoubted reality.
  • 6. Hence the reality of Mathematical Knowledge
  • I doubt not but it will be easily granted, that the knowledge we have of
  • mathematical truths is not only certain, but real knowledge; and not the
  • bare empty vision of vain, insignificant chimeras of the brain: and yet,
  • if we will consider, we shall find that it is only of our own ideas.
  • The mathematician considers the truth and properties belonging to a
  • rectangle or circle only as they are in idea in his own mind. For it is
  • possible he never found either of them existing mathematically, i.e.
  • precisely true, in his life. But yet the knowledge he has of any truths
  • or properties belonging to a circle, or any other mathematical figure,
  • are nevertheless true and certain, even of real things existing: because
  • real things are no further concerned, nor intended to be meant by any
  • such propositions, than as things really agree to those archetypes in
  • his mind. Is it true of the IDEA of a triangle, that its three angles
  • are equal to two right ones? It is true also of a triangle, wherever
  • it REALLY EXISTS. Whatever other figure exists, that it is not exactly
  • answerable to that idea of a triangle in his mind, is not at all
  • concerned in that proposition. And therefore he is certain all his
  • knowledge concerning such ideas is real knowledge: because, intending
  • things no further than they agree with those his ideas, he is sure
  • what he knows concerning those figures, when they have BARELY AN IDEAL
  • EXISTENCE in his mind, will hold true of them also when they have A REAL
  • EXISTANCE in matter: his consideration being barely of those figures,
  • which are the same wherever or however they exist.
  • 7. And of Moral.
  • And hence it follows that moral knowledge is as capable of real
  • certainty as mathematics. For certainty being but the perception of the
  • agreement or disagreement of our ideas, and demonstration nothing but
  • the perception of such agreement, by the intervention of other ideas
  • or mediums; our moral ideas, as well as mathematical, being archetypes
  • themselves, and so adequate and complete ideas; all the agreement or
  • disagreement which we shall find in them will produce real knowledge, as
  • well as in mathematical figures.
  • 8. Existence not required to make Abstract Knowledge real.
  • [For the attaining of knowledge and certainty, it is requisite that we
  • have determined ideas:] and, to make our knowledge real, it is requisite
  • that the ideas answer their archetypes. Nor let it be wondered, that I
  • place the certainty of our knowledge in the consideration of our ideas,
  • with so little care and regard (as it may seem) to the real existence of
  • things: since most of those discourses which take up the thoughts and
  • engage the disputes of those who pretend to make it their business to
  • inquire after truth and certainty, will, I presume, upon examination, be
  • found to be general propositions, and notions in which existence is not
  • at all concerned. All the discourses of the mathematicians about the
  • squaring of a circle, conic sections, or any other part of mathematics,
  • concern not the existence of any of those figures: but their
  • demonstrations, which depend on their ideas, are the same, whether there
  • be any square or circle existing in the world or no. In the same manner,
  • the truth and certainty of moral discourses abstracts from the lives of
  • men, and the existence of those virtues in the world whereof they treat:
  • nor are Tully's Offices less true, because there is nobody in the world
  • that exactly practises his rules, and lives up to that pattern of a
  • virtuous man which he has given us, and which existed nowhere when he
  • writ but in idea. If it be true in speculation, i.e. in idea, that
  • murder deserves death, it will also be true in reality of any action
  • that exists conformable to that idea of murder. As for other
  • actions, the truth of that proposition concerns them not. And thus it is
  • of all other species of things, which have no other essences but those
  • ideas which are in the minds of men.
  • 9. Nor will it be less true or certain, because Moral Ideas are of our
  • own making and naming.
  • But it will here be said, that if moral knowledge be placed in the
  • contemplation of our own moral ideas, and those, as other modes, be
  • of our own making, What strange notions will there be of justice and
  • temperance? What confusion of virtues and vices, if every one may make
  • what ideas of them he pleases? No confusion or disorder in the things
  • themselves, nor the reasonings about them; no more than (in mathematics)
  • there would be a disturbance in the demonstration, or a change in the
  • properties of figures, and their relations one to another, if a man
  • should make a triangle with four corners, or a trapezium with four right
  • angles: that is, in plain English, change the names of the figures, and
  • call that by one name, which mathematicians call ordinarily by another.
  • For, let a man make to himself the idea of a figure with three angles,
  • whereof one is a right one, and call it, if he please, EQUILATERUM or
  • TRAPEZIUM, or anything else; the properties of, and demonstrations about
  • that idea will be the same as if he called it a rectangular triangle. I
  • confess the change of the name, by the impropriety of speech, will at
  • first disturb him who knows not what idea it stands for: but as soon as
  • the figure is drawn, the consequences and demonstrations are plain and
  • clear. Just the same is it in moral knowledge: let a man have the idea
  • of taking from others, without their consent, what their honest industry
  • has possessed them of, and call this JUSTICE if he please. He that takes
  • the name here without the idea put to it will be mistaken, by joining
  • another idea of his own to that name: but strip the idea of that name,
  • or take it such as it is in the speaker's mind, and the same things will
  • agree to it, as if you called it INJUSTICE. Indeed, wrong names in moral
  • discourses breed usually more disorder, because they are not so easily
  • rectified as in mathematics, where the figure, once drawn and seen,
  • makes the name useless and of no force. For what need of a sign, when
  • the thing signified is present and in view? But in moral names, that
  • cannot be so easily and shortly done, because of the many decompositions
  • that go to the making up the complex ideas of those modes. But yet for
  • all this, the miscalling of any of those ideas, contrary to the usual
  • signification of the words of that language, hinders not but that we may
  • have certain and demonstrative knowledge of their several agreements and
  • disagreements, if we will carefully, as in mathematics, keep to the same
  • precise ideas, and trace THEM in their several relations one to another,
  • without being led away by their names. If we but separate the idea under
  • consideration from the sign that stands for it, our knowledge goes
  • equally on in the discovery of real truth and certainty, whatever sounds
  • we make use of.
  • 10. Misnaming disturbs not the certainty of the Knowledge
  • One thing more we are to take notice of, That where God or any other
  • law-maker, hath defined any moral names, there they have made the
  • essence of that species to which that name belongs; and there it is
  • not safe to apply or use them otherwise: but in other cases it is bare
  • impropriety of speech to apply them contrary to the common usage of
  • the country. But yet even this too disturbs not the certainty of that
  • knowledge, which is still to be had by a due contemplation and comparing
  • of those even nick-named ideas.
  • 11. Thirdly, Our complex Ideas of Substances have their Archetypes
  • without us; and here knowledge comes short.
  • THIRDLY, There is another sort of complex ideas, which, being referred
  • to archetypes without us, may differ from them, and so our knowledge
  • about them may come short of being real. Such are our ideas of
  • substances, which, consisting of a collection of simple ideas, supposed
  • taken from the works of nature, may yet vary from them; by having more
  • or different ideas united in them than are to be found united in the
  • things themselves. From whence it comes to pass, that they may, and
  • often do, fail of being exactly conformable to things themselves.
  • 12. So far as our complex ideas agree with those Archetypes without us,
  • so far our Knowledge concerning Substances is real.
  • I say, then, that to have ideas of SUBSTANCES which, by being
  • conformable to things, may afford us real knowledge, it is not enough,
  • as in MODES, to put together such ideas as have no inconsistence, though
  • they did never before so exist: v.g. the ideas of sacrilege or perjury,
  • &c., were as real and true ideas before, as after the existence of any
  • such fact. But our ideas of substances, being supposed copies, and
  • referred to archetypes without us, must still be taken from something
  • that does or has existed: they must not consist of ideas put together at
  • the pleasure of our thoughts, without any real pattern they were taken
  • from, though we can perceive no inconsistence in such a combination. The
  • reason whereof is because we, knowing not what real constitution it is
  • of substances whereon our simple ideas depend, and which really is the
  • cause of the strict union of some of them one with another, and the
  • exclusion of others; there are very few of them that we can be sure
  • are or are not inconsistent in nature: any further than experience and
  • sensible observation reach Herein, therefore, is founded the reality of
  • our knowledge concerning substances--That all our complex ideas of them
  • must be such, and such only, as are made up of such simple ones as have
  • been discovered to co-exist in nature. And our ideas being thus true,
  • though not perhaps very exact copies, are yet the subjects of real (as
  • far as we have any) knowledge of them. Which (as has been already shown)
  • will not be found to reach very far: but so far as it does, it will
  • still be real knowledge. Whatever ideas we have, the agreement we
  • find they have with others will still be knowledge. If those ideas be
  • abstract, it will be general knowledge. But to make it real concerning
  • substances, the ideas must be taken from the real existence of things.
  • Whatever simple ideas have been found to co-exist in any substance,
  • these we may with confidence join together again, and so make abstract
  • ideas of substances. For whatever have once had an union in nature, may
  • be united again.
  • 13. In our inquiries about Substances, we must consider Ideas, and not
  • confine our Thoughts to Names, or Species supposed set out by Names.
  • This, if we rightly consider, and confine not our thoughts and abstract
  • ideas to names, as if there were, or could be no other SORTS of things
  • than what known names had already determined, and, as it were, set out,
  • we should think of things with greater freedom and less confusion than
  • perhaps we do. It would possibly be thought a bold paradox, if not a
  • very dangerous falsehood, if I should say that some CHANGELINGS, who
  • have lived forty years together, without any appearance of reason, are
  • something between a man and a beast: which prejudice is founded upon
  • nothing else but a false supposition, that these two names, man and
  • beast, stand for distinct species so set out by real essences, that
  • there can come no other species between them: whereas if we will
  • abstract from those names, and the supposition of such specific essences
  • made by nature, wherein all things of the same denominations did exactly
  • and equally partake; if we would not fancy that there were a certain
  • number of these essences, wherein all things, as in moulds, were cast
  • and formed; we should find that the idea of the shape, motion, and life
  • of a man without reason, is as much a distinct idea, and makes as much a
  • distinct sort of things from man and beast, as the idea of the shape of
  • an ass with reason would be different from either that of man or beast,
  • and be a species of an animal between, or distinct from both.
  • 14. Objection against a Changeling being something between a Man and
  • Beast, answered.
  • Here everybody will be ready to ask, If changelings may be supposed
  • something between man and beast, pray what are they? I answer,
  • CHANGELINGS; which is as good a word to signify something different from
  • the signification of MAN or BEAST, as the names man and beast are to
  • have significations different one from the other. This, well considered,
  • would resolve this matter, and show my meaning without any more ado. But
  • I am not so unacquainted with the zeal of some men, which enables them
  • to spin consequences, and to see religion threatened, whenever any one
  • ventures to quit their forms of speaking, as not to foresee what names
  • such a proposition as this is like to be charged with: and without doubt
  • it will be asked, If changelings are something between man and beast,
  • what will become of them in the other world? To which I answer, I. It
  • concerns me not to know or inquire. To their own master they stand or
  • fall. It will make their state neither better nor worse, whether we
  • determine anything of it or no. They are in the hands of a faithful
  • Creator and a bountiful Father, who disposes not of his creatures
  • according to our narrow thoughts or opinions, nor distinguishes them
  • according to names and species of our contrivance. And we that know so
  • little of this present world we are in, may, I think, content ourselves
  • without being peremptory in defining the different states which
  • creatures shall come into when they go off this stage. It may suffice
  • us, that He hath made known to all those who are capable of instruction,
  • discoursing, and reasoning, that they shall come to an account, and
  • receive according to what they have done in this body.
  • 15. What will become of Changelings in a future state?
  • But, Secondly, I answer, The force of these men's question (viz. Will
  • you deprive changelings of a future state?) is founded on one of these
  • two suppositions, which are both false. The first is, That all things
  • that have the outward shape and appearance of a man must necessarily be
  • designed to an immortal future being after this life: or, secondly, That
  • whatever is of human birth must be so. Take away these imaginations, and
  • such questions will be groundless and ridiculous. I desire then those
  • who think there is no more but an accidental difference between
  • themselves and changelings, the essence in both being exactly the same,
  • to consider, whether they can imagine immortality annexed to any outward
  • shape of the body; the very proposing it is, I suppose, enough to make
  • them disown it. No one yet, that ever I heard of, how much soever
  • immersed in matter, allowed that excellency to any figure of the gross
  • sensible outward consequence of it; or that any mass of matter
  • should, after its dissolution here, be again restored hereafter to an
  • everlasting state of sense, perception, and knowledge, only because it
  • was moulded into this or that figure, and had such a particular frame
  • of its visible parts. Such an opinion as this, placing immortality in a
  • certain superficial figure, turns out of doors all consideration of soul
  • or spirit; upon whose account alone some corporeal beings have hitherto
  • been concluded immortal, and others not. This is to attribute more to
  • the outside than inside of things; and to place the excellency of a man
  • more in the external shape of his body, than internal perfections of his
  • soul: which is but little better than to annex the great and inestimable
  • advantage of immortality and life everlasting, which he has above other
  • material beings, to annex it, I say, to the cut of his beard, or the
  • fashion of his coat. For this or that outward mark of our bodies no more
  • carries with it the hope of an eternal duration, than the fashion of a
  • man's suit gives him reasonable grounds to imagine it will never wear
  • out, or that it will make him immortal. It will perhaps be said, that
  • nobody thinks that the shape makes anything immortal, but it is the
  • shape that is the sign of a rational soul within, which is immortal. I
  • wonder who made it the sign of any such thing: for barely saying it,
  • will not make it so. It would require some proofs to persuade one of it.
  • No figure that I know speaks any such language. For it may as rationally
  • be concluded, that the dead body of a man, wherein there is to be found
  • no more appearance or action of life than there is in a statue, has yet
  • nevertheless a living soul in it, because of its shape; as that there
  • is a rational soul in a changeling, because he has the outside of a
  • rational creature, when his actions carry far less marks of reason with
  • them, in the whole course of his life than what are to be found in many
  • a beast.
  • 16. Monsters
  • But it is the issue of rational parents, and must therefore be concluded
  • to have a rational soul. I know not by what logic you must so conclude.
  • I am sure this is a conclusion that men nowhere allow of. For if they
  • did, they would not make bold, as everywhere they do to destroy
  • ill-formed and mis-shaped productions. Ay, but these are MONSTERS.
  • Let them be so: what will your drivelling, unintelligent, intractable
  • changeling be? Shall a defect in the body make a monster; a defect in
  • the mind (the far more noble, and, in the common phrase, the far more
  • essential part) not? Shall the want of a nose, or a neck, make a
  • monster, and put such issue out of the rank of men; the want of reason
  • and understanding, not? This is to bring all back again to what was
  • exploded just now: this is to place all in the shape, and to take the
  • measure of a man only by his outside. To show that according to the
  • ordinary way of reasoning in this matter, people do lay the whole stress
  • on the figure, and resolve the whole essence of the species of man (as
  • they make it) into the outward shape, how unreasonable soever it be, and
  • how much soever they disown it, we need but trace their thoughts
  • and practice a little further, and then it will plainly appear. The
  • well-shaped changeling is a man, has a rational soul, though it appear
  • not: this is past doubt, say you: make the ears a little longer, and
  • more pointed, and the nose a little flatter than ordinary, and then you
  • begin to boggle: make the face yet narrower, flatter, and longer, and
  • then you are at a stand: add still more and more of the likeness of a
  • brute to it, and let the head be perfectly that of some other animal,
  • then presently it is a monster; and it is demonstration with you that it
  • hath no rational soul, and must be destroyed. Where now (I ask) shall be
  • the just measure; which the utmost bounds of that shape, that carries
  • with it a rational soul? For, since there have been human foetuses
  • produced, half beast and half man; and others three parts one, and one
  • part the other; and so it is possible they may be in all the variety of
  • approaches to the one or the other shape, and may have several degrees
  • of mixture of the likeness of a man, or a brute;--I would gladly know
  • what are those precise lineaments, which, according to this hypothesis,
  • are or are not capable of a rational soul to be joined to them. What
  • sort of outside is the certain sign that there is or is not such an
  • inhabitant within? For till that be done, we talk at random of MAN: and
  • shall always, I fear, do so, as long as we give ourselves up to certain
  • sounds, and the imaginations of settled and fixed species in nature, we
  • know not what. But, after all, I desire it may be considered, that those
  • who think they have answered the difficulty, by telling us, that a
  • mis-shaped foetus is a MONSTER, run into the same fault they are arguing
  • against; by constituting a species between man and beast. For what else,
  • I pray, is their monster in the case, (if the word monster signifies
  • anything at all,) but something neither man nor beast, but partaking
  • somewhat of either? And just so is the CHANGELING before mentioned. So
  • necessary is it to quit the common notion of species and essences, if we
  • will truly look into the nature of things, and examine them by what our
  • faculties can discover in them as they exist, and not by groundless
  • fancies that have been taken up about them.
  • 17. Words and Species.
  • I have mentioned this here, because I think we cannot be too cautious
  • that words and species, in the ordinary notions which we have been used
  • to of them, impose not on us. For I am apt to think therein lies one
  • great obstacle to our clear and distinct knowledge, especially in
  • reference to substances: and from thence has rose a great part of the
  • difficulties about truth and certainty. Would we accustom ourselves to
  • separate our contemplations and reasonings from words, we might in a
  • great measure remedy this inconvenience within our own thoughts: but yet
  • it would still disturb us in our discourse with others, as long as we
  • retained the opinion, that SPECIES and their ESSENCES were anything else
  • but our abstract ideas (such as they are) with names annexed to them, to
  • be the signs of them.
  • 18. Recapitulation.
  • Wherever we perceive the agreement or disagreement of any of our ideas,
  • there is certain knowledge: and wherever we are sure those ideas agree
  • with the reality of things, there is certain real knowledge. Of which
  • agreement of our ideas with the reality of things, having here given
  • the marks, I think, I have shown WHEREIN IT IS THAT CERTAINTY, REAL
  • CERTAINTY, CONSISTS. Which, whatever it was to others, was, I confess,
  • to me heretofore, one of those desiderata which I found great want of.
  • CHAPTER V. OF TRUTH IN GENERAL.
  • 1. What Truth is.
  • WHAT is truth? was an inquiry many ages since; and it being that which
  • all mankind either do, or pretend to search after, it cannot but be
  • worth our while carefully to examine wherein it consists; and so
  • acquaint ourselves with the nature of it, as to observe how the mind
  • distinguishes it from falsehood.
  • 2. A right joining or separating of signs, i.e. either Ideas or Words.
  • Truth, then, seems to me, in the proper import of the word, to signify
  • nothing but THE JOINING OR SEPERATING OF SIGNS, AS THE THINGS SIGNIFIED
  • BY THEM DO AGREE OR DISAGREE ONE WITH ANOTHER. The joining or separating
  • of signs here meant, is what by another name we call PROPOSITION. So
  • that truth properly belongs only to propositions: whereof there are two
  • sorts, viz. mental and verbal; as there are two sorts of signs commonly
  • made use of, viz. ideas and words.
  • 3. Which make mental or verbal Propositions.
  • To form a clear notion of truth, it is very necessary to consider truth
  • of thought, and truth of words, distinctly one from another: but yet it
  • is very difficult to treat of them asunder. Because it is unavoidable,
  • in treating of mental propositions, to make use of words: and then the
  • instances given of mental propositions cease immediately to be barely
  • mental, and become verbal. For a MENTAL PROPOSITION being nothing but a
  • bare consideration of the ideas, as they are in our minds, stripped of
  • names, they lose the nature of purely mental propositions as soon as
  • they are put into words.
  • 4. Mental Propositions are very hard to be treated of.
  • And that which makes it yet harder to treat of mental and verbal
  • propositions separately is, that most men, if not all, in their thinking
  • and reasonings within themselves, make use of words instead of ideas; at
  • least when the subject of their meditation contains in it complex ideas.
  • Which is a great evidence of the imperfection and uncertainty of our
  • ideas of that kind, and may, if attentively made use of, serve for
  • a mark to show us what are those things we have clear and perfect
  • established ideas of, and what not. For if we will curiously observe the
  • way our mind takes in thinking and reasoning, we shall find, I suppose,
  • that when we make any propositions within our own thoughts about WHITE
  • or BLACK, SWEET or BITTER, a TRIANGLE or a CIRCLE, we can and often
  • do frame in our minds the ideas themselves, without reflecting on the
  • names. But when we would consider, or make propositions about the more
  • complex ideas, as of a MAN, VITRIOL, FORTITUDE, GLORY, we usually put
  • the name for the idea: because the ideas these names stand for, being
  • for the most part imperfect, confused, and undetermined, we reflect
  • on the names themselves, because they are more clear, certain, and
  • distinct, and readier occur to our thoughts than the pure ideas: and so
  • we make use of these words instead of the ideas themselves, even when
  • we would meditate and reason within ourselves, and make tacit mental
  • propositions. In substances, as has been already noticed, this is
  • occasioned by the imperfections of our ideas: we making the name stand
  • for the real essence, of which we have no idea at all. In modes, it is
  • occasioned by the great number of simple ideas that go to the making
  • them up. For many of them being compounded, the name occurs much easier
  • than the complex idea itself, which requires time and attention to be
  • recollected, and exactly represented to the mind, even in those men who
  • have formerly been at the pains to do it; and is utterly impossible
  • to be done by those who, though they have ready in their memory the
  • greatest part of the common words of that language, yet perhaps never
  • troubled themselves in all their lives to consider what precise ideas
  • the most of them stood for. Some confused or obscure notions have served
  • their turns; and many who talk very much of RELIGION and CONSCIENCE,
  • of CHURCH and FAITH, of POWER and RIGHT, of OBSTRUCTIONS and HUMOURS,
  • MELANCHOLY and CHOLER, would perhaps have little left in their thoughts
  • and meditations, if one should desire them to think only of the things
  • themselves, and lay by those words with which they so often confound
  • others, and not seldom themselves also.
  • 5. Mental and Verbal Propositions contrasted.
  • But to return to the consideration of truth: we must, I say, observe two
  • sorts of propositions that we are capable of making:--
  • First, MENTAL, wherein the ideas in our understandings are without the
  • use of words put together, or separated, by the mind perceiving or
  • judging of their agreement or disagreement.
  • Secondly, VERBAL propositions, which are words, the signs of our ideas,
  • put together or separated in affirmative or negative sentences. By which
  • way of affirming or denying, these signs, made by sounds, are, as it
  • were, put together or separated from another. So that proposition
  • consists in joining or separating signs; and truth consists in the
  • putting together or separating those signs, according as the things
  • which they stand for agree or disagree.
  • 6. When Mental Propositions contain real Truth, and when Verbal.
  • Every one's experience will satisfy him, that the mind, either by
  • perceiving, or supposing, the agreement or disagreement of any of its
  • ideas, does tacitly within itself put them into a kind of proposition
  • affirmative or negative; which I have endeavoured to express by the
  • terms putting together and separating. But this action of the mind,
  • which is so familiar to every thinking and reasoning man, is easier to
  • be conceived by reflecting on what passes in us when we affirm or deny,
  • than to be explained by words. When a man has in his head the idea of
  • two lines, viz. the side and diagonal of a square, whereof the diagonal
  • is an inch long, he may have the idea also of the division of that line
  • into a certain number of equal parts; v.g. into five, ten, a hundred, a
  • thousand, or any other number, and may have the idea of that inch line
  • being divisible, or not divisible, into such equal parts, as a certain
  • number of them will be equal to the sideline. Now, whenever he
  • perceives, believes, or supposes such a kind of divisibility to agree or
  • disagree to his idea of that line, he, as it were, joins or separates
  • those two ideas, viz. the idea of that line, and the idea of that kind
  • of divisibility; and so makes a mental proposition, which is true or
  • false, according as such a kind of divisibility, a divisibility into
  • such ALIQUOT parts, does really agree to that line or no. When ideas are
  • so put together, or separated in the mind, as they or the things they
  • stand for do agree or not, that is, as I may call it, MENTAL TRUTH. But
  • TRUTH OF WORDS is something more; and that is the affirming or denying
  • of words one of another, as the ideas they stand for agree or disagree:
  • and this again is two-fold; either purely verbal and trifling, which I
  • shall speak of, (chap. viii.,) or real and instructive; which is the
  • object of that real knowledge which we have spoken of already.
  • 7. Objection against verbal Truth, that thus it may all be chimerical.
  • But here again will be apt to occur the same doubt about truth, that did
  • about knowledge: and it will be objected, that if truth be nothing but
  • the joining and separating of words in propositions, as the ideas they
  • stand for agree or disagree in men's minds, the knowledge of truth is
  • not so valuable a thing as it is taken to be, nor worth the pains and
  • time men employ in the search of it: since by this account it amounts to
  • no more than the conformity of words to the chimeras of men's brains.
  • Who knows not what odd notions many men's heads are filled with, and
  • what strange ideas all men's brains are capable of? But if we rest here,
  • we know the truth of nothing by this rule, but of the visionary words in
  • our own imaginations; nor have other truth, but what as much concerns
  • harpies and centaurs, as men and horses. For those, and the like, may be
  • ideas in our heads, and have their agreement or disagreement there, as
  • well as the ideas of real beings, and so have as true propositions made
  • about them. And it will be altogether as true a proposition to say ALL
  • CENTAURS ARE ANIMALS, as that ALL MEN ARE ANIMALS; and the certainty of
  • one as great as the other. For in both the propositions, the words are
  • put together according to the agreement of the ideas in our minds: and
  • the agreement of the idea of animal with that of centaur is as clear and
  • visable to the mind, as the agreement of the idea of animal with that of
  • man; and so these two propositions are equally true, equally certain.
  • But of what use is all such truth to us?
  • 8. Answered, Real Truth is about Ideas agreeing to things.
  • Though what has been said in the foregoing chapter to distinguish real
  • from imaginary knowledge might suffice here, in answer to this doubt,
  • to distinguish real truth from chimerical, or (if you please) barely
  • nominal, they depending both on the same foundation; yet it may not be
  • amiss here again to consider, that though our words signify things, the
  • truth they contain when put into propositions will be only verbal, when
  • they stand for ideas in the mind that have not an agreement with the
  • reality of things. And therefore truth as well as knowledge may well
  • come under the distinction of verbal and real; that being only
  • verbal truth, wherein terms are joined according to the agreement or
  • disagreement of the ideas they stand for; without regarding whether our
  • ideas are such as really have, or are capable of having, an existence
  • in nature. But then it is they contain REAL TRUTH, when these signs are
  • joined, as our ideas agree; and when our ideas are such as we know are
  • capable of having an existence in nature: which in substances we cannot
  • know, but by knowing that such have existed.
  • 9. Truth and Falsehood in general.
  • Truth is the marking down in words the agreement or disagreement of
  • ideas as it is. Falsehood is the marking down in words the agreement or
  • disagreement of ideas otherwise than it is. And so far as these ideas,
  • thus marked by sounds, agree to their archetypes, so far only is the
  • truth real. The knowledge of this truth consists in knowing what ideas
  • the words stand for, and the perception of the agreement or disagreement
  • of those ideas, according as it is marked by those words.
  • 10. General Propositions to be treated of more at large.
  • But because words are looked on as the great conduits of truth and
  • knowledge, and that in conveying and receiving of truth, and commonly in
  • reasoning about it, we make use of words and propositions, I shall more
  • at large inquire wherein the certainty of real truths contained in
  • propositions consists, and where it is to be had; and endeavour to show
  • in what sort of universal propositions we are capable of being certain
  • of their real truth or falsehood.
  • I shall begin with GENERAL propositions, as those which most employ our
  • thoughts, and exercise our contemplation. General truths are most looked
  • after by the mind as those that most enlarge our knowledge; and by their
  • comprehensiveness satisfying us at once of many particulars, enlarge our
  • view, and shorten our way to knowledge.
  • 11. Moral and Metaphysical Truth.
  • Besides truth taken in the strict sense before mentioned, there are
  • other sorts of truths: As, 1. Moral truth, which is speaking of things
  • according to the persuasion of our own minds, though the proposition we
  • speak agree not to the reality of things; 2. Metaphysical truth, which
  • is nothing but the real existence of things, conformable to the ideas to
  • which we have annexed their names. This, though it seems to consist in
  • the very beings of things, yet, when considered a little nearly, will
  • appear to include a tacit proposition, whereby the mind joins that
  • particular thing to the idea it had before settled with the name to
  • it. But these considerations of truth, either having been before taken
  • notice of, or not being much to our present purpose, it may suffice here
  • only to have mentioned them.
  • CHAPTER VI. OF UNIVERSAL PROPOSITIONS: THEIR TRUTH AND CERTAINTY.
  • 1. Treating of Words necessary to Knowledge.
  • THOUGH the examining and judging of ideas by themselves, their names
  • being quite laid aside, be the best and surest way to clear and distinct
  • knowledge: yet, through the prevailing custom of using sounds for ideas,
  • I think it is very seldom practised. Every one may observe how common it
  • is for names to be made use of, instead of the ideas themselves, even
  • when men think and reason within their own breasts; especially if the
  • ideas be very complex, and made up of a great collection of simple ones.
  • This makes the consideration of WORDS and PROPOSITIONS so necessary
  • a part of the Treatise of Knowledge, that it is very hard to speak
  • intelligibly of the one, without explaining the other.
  • 2. General Truths hardly to be understood, but in verbal Propositions.
  • All the knowledge we have, being only of particular or general truths,
  • it is evident that whatever may be done in the former of these, the
  • latter, which is that which with reason is most sought after, can never
  • be well made known, and is very seldom apprehended, but as conceived
  • and expressed in words. It is not, therefore, out of our way, in the
  • examination of our knowledge, to inquire into the truth and certainty of
  • universal propositions.
  • 3. Certainty twofold--of Truth and of Knowledge.
  • But that we may not be misled in this case by that which is the danger
  • everywhere, I mean by the doubtfulness of terms, it is fit to observe
  • that certainty is twofold: CERTAINTY OF TRUTH and CERTAINTY OF
  • KNOWLEDGE. Certainty of truth is, when words are so put together in
  • propositions as exactly to express the agreement or disagreement of the
  • ideas they stand for, as really it is. Certainty of knowledge is to
  • perceive the agreement or disagreement of ideas, as expressed in any
  • proposition. This we usually call knowing, or being certain of the truth
  • of any proposition.
  • 4. No Proposition can be certainly known to be true, where the real
  • Essence of each Species mentioned is not known.
  • Now, because we cannot be certain of the truth of any general
  • proposition, unless we know the precise bounds and extent of the species
  • its terms stand for, it is necessary we should know the essence of each
  • species, which is that which constitutes and bounds it.
  • This, in all simple ideas and modes, is not hard to do. For in these
  • the real and nominal essence being the same, or, which is all one, the
  • abstract idea which the general term stands for being the sole essence
  • and boundary that is or can be supposed of the species, there can be no
  • doubt how far the species extends, or what things are comprehended under
  • each term; which, it is evident, are all that have an exact conformity
  • with the idea it stands for, and no other. But in substances, wherein
  • a real essence, distinct from the nominal, is supposed to constitute,
  • determine, and bound the species, the extent of the general word is very
  • uncertain; because, not knowing this real essence, we cannot know what
  • is, or what is not of that species; and, consequently, what may or may
  • not with certainty be affirmed of it. And thus, speaking of a MAN,
  • or GOLD, or any other species of natural substances, as supposed
  • constituted by a precise and real essence which nature regularly imparts
  • to every individual of that kind, whereby it is made to be of that
  • species, we cannot be certain of the truth of any affirmation or
  • negation made of it. For man or gold, taken in this sense, and used
  • for species of things constituted by real essences, different from the
  • complex idea in the mind of the speaker, stand for we know not what; and
  • the extent of these species, with such boundaries, are so unknown and
  • undetermined, that it is impossible with any certainty to affirm, that
  • all men are rational, or that all gold is yellow. But where the nominal
  • essence is kept to, as the boundary of each species, and men extend the
  • application of any general term no further than to the particular things
  • in which the complex idea it stands for is to be found, there they are
  • in no danger to mistake the bounds of each species, nor can be in doubt,
  • on this account, whether any proposition be true or not. I have chosen
  • to explain this uncertainty of propositions in this scholastic way, and
  • have made use of the terms of ESSENCES, and SPECIES, on purpose to show
  • the absurdity and inconvenience there is to think of them as of any
  • other sort of realities, than barely abstract ideas with names to them.
  • To suppose that the species of things are anything but the sorting of
  • them under general names, according as they agree to several abstract
  • ideas of which we make those names signs, is to confound truth, and
  • introduce uncertainty into all general propositions that can be made
  • about them. Though therefore these things might, to people not possessed
  • with scholastic learning, be treated of in a better and clearer way
  • yet those wrong notions of essences or species having got root in most
  • people's minds who have received any tincture from the learning which
  • has prevailed in this part of the world, are to be discovered and
  • removed, to make way for that use of words which should convey certainty
  • with it.
  • 5. This more particularly concerns Substances.
  • The names of substances, then, whenever made to stand for species which
  • are supposed to be constituted by real essences which we know not, are
  • not capable to convey certainty to the understanding. Of the truth
  • general propositions made up of such terms we cannot be sure. [The
  • reason whereof is plain: for how can we be sure that this or that
  • quality is in gold, when we know not what is or is not gold? Since in
  • this way of speaking, nothing is gold but what partakes of an essence,
  • which we, not knowing, cannot know where it is or is not, and so cannot
  • be sure that any parcel of matter in the world is or is not in this
  • sense gold; being incurably ignorant whether IT has or has not that
  • which makes anything to be called gold; i. e. that real essence of gold
  • whereof we have no idea at all. This being as impossible for us to know
  • as it is for a blind man to tell in what flower the colour of a pansy is
  • or is not to be found, whilst he has no idea of the colour of a pansy at
  • all. Or if we could (which is impossible) certainly know where a real
  • essence, which we know not, is, v.g. in what parcels of matter the real
  • essence of gold is, yet could we not be sure that this or that quality
  • could with truth be affirmed of gold; since it is impossible for us to
  • know that this or that quality or idea has a necessary connexion with
  • a real essence of which we have no idea at all, whatever species that
  • supposed real essence may be imagined to constitute.]
  • 6.
  • On the other side, the names of substances, when made use of as they
  • should be, for the ideas men have in their minds, though they carry a
  • clear and determinate signification with them, will not yet serve us to
  • make many universal propositions of whose truth we can be certain. Not
  • because in this use of them we are uncertain what things are signified
  • by them, but because the complex ideas they stand for are such
  • combinations of simple ones as carry not with them any discoverable
  • connexion or repugnancy, but with a very few other ideas.
  • 7.
  • The complex ideas that our names of the species of substances properly
  • stand for, are collections of such qualities as have been observed to
  • co-exist in an unknown substratum, which we call substance; but what
  • other qualities necessarily co-exist with such combinations, we cannot
  • certainly know, unless we can discover their natural dependence; which,
  • in their primary qualities, we can go but a very little way in; and in
  • all their secondary qualities we can discover no connexion at all: for
  • the reasons mentioned, chap. iii. Viz. 1. Because we know not the
  • real constitutions of substances, on which each secondary quality
  • particularly depends. 2. Did we know that, it would serve us only for
  • experimental (not universal) knowledge; and reach with certainty no
  • further than that bare instance: because our understandings can
  • discover no conceivable connexion between any secondary quality and any
  • modification whatsoever of any of the primary ones. And therefore there
  • are very few general propositions to be made concerning substances,
  • which can carry with them undoubted certainty.
  • 8. Instance in Gold.
  • 'All gold is fixed,' is a proposition whose truth we cannot be certain
  • of, how universally soever it be believed. For if, according to the
  • useless imagination of the Schools, any one supposes the term gold to
  • stand for a species of things set out by nature, by a real essence
  • belonging to it, it is evident he knows not what particular substances
  • are of that species; and so cannot with certainty affirm anything
  • universally of gold. But if he makes gold stand for a species determined
  • by its nominal essence, let the nominal essence, for example, be the
  • complex idea of a body of a certain yellow colour, malleable, fusible,
  • and heavier than any other known;--in this proper use of the word gold,
  • there is no difficulty to know what is or is not gold. But yet no other
  • quality can with certainty be universally affirmed or denied of gold,
  • but what hath a DISCOVERABLE connexion or inconsistency with that
  • nominal essence. Fixedness, for example, having no necessary connexion
  • that we can discover, with the colour, weight, or any other simple
  • idea of our complex one, or with the whole combination together; it is
  • impossible that we should certainly know the truth of this proposition,
  • that all gold is fixed.
  • 9. No discoverable necessary connexion between nominal essence gold, and
  • other simple ideas.
  • As there is no discoverable connexion between fixedness and the colour,
  • weight, and other simple ideas of that nominal essence of gold; so,
  • if we make our complex idea of gold, a body yellow, fusable, ductile,
  • weighty, and fixed, we shall be at the same uncertainty concerning
  • solubility in AQUA REGIA, and for the same reason. Since we can never,
  • from consideration of the ideas themselves, with certainty affirm or
  • deny of a body whose complex idea is made up of yellow, very weighty,
  • ductile, fusible, and fixed, that it is soluble in AQUA REGIA: and so
  • on of the rest of its qualities. I would gladly meet with one general
  • affirmation concerning any will, no doubt, be presently objected, Is not
  • this an universal proposition, ALL GOLD IS MALLEABLE? To which I answer,
  • It is a very complex idea the word gold stands for. But then here is
  • nothing affirmed of gold, but that that sound stands for an idea in
  • which malleableness is contained: and such a sort of truth and certainty
  • as this it is, to say a centaur is four-footed. But if malleableness make
  • not a part of the specific essence the name of gold stands for, it is
  • plain, ALL GOLD IS MALLEABLE, is not a certain proposition. Because,
  • let the complex idea of gold be made up of whichsoever of its other
  • qualities you please, malleableness will not appear to depend on that
  • complex idea, nor follow from any simple one contained in it: the
  • connexion that malleableness has (if it has any) with those other
  • qualities being only by the intervention of the real constitution of its
  • insensible parts; which, since we know not, it is impossible we should
  • perceive that connexion, unless we could discover that which ties them
  • together.
  • 10. As far as any such Co-existence can be known, so far Universal
  • Propositions maybe certain. But this will go but a little way.
  • The more, indeed, of these co-existing qualities we unite into one
  • complex idea, under one name, the more precise and determinate we make
  • the signification of that word; but never yet make it thereby more
  • capable of universal certainty, IN RESPECT OF OTHER QUALITIES NOT
  • CONTAINED IN OUR COMPLEX IDEA: since we perceive not their connexion or
  • dependence on one another; being ignorant both of that real constitution
  • in which they are all founded, and also how they flow from it. For the
  • chief part of our knowledge concerning substances is not, as in other
  • things, barely of the relation of two ideas that may exist separately;
  • but is of the necessary connexion and co-existence of several distinct
  • ideas in the same subject, or of their repugnancy so to co-exist. Could
  • we begin at the other end, and discover what it was wherein that colour
  • consisted, what made a body lighter or heavier, what texture of parts
  • made it malleable, fusible, and fixed, and fit to be dissolved in this
  • sort of liquor, and not in another;--if, I say, we had such an idea
  • as this of bodies, and could perceive wherein all sensible qualities
  • originally consist, and how they are produced; we might frame such
  • abstract ideas of them as would furnish us with matter of more general
  • knowledge, and enable us to make universal propositions, that should
  • carry general truth and certainty with them. But whilst our complex
  • ideas of the sorts of substances are so remote from that internal real
  • constitution on which their sensible qualities depend, and are made up
  • of nothing but an imperfect collection of those apparent qualities our
  • senses can discover, there can be few general propositions concerning
  • substances of whose real truth we can be certainly assured; since there
  • are but few simple ideas of whose connexion and necessary co-existence
  • we can have certain and undoubted knowledge. I imagine, amongst all the
  • secondary qualities of substances, and the powers relating to them,
  • there cannot any two be named, whose necessary co-existence, or
  • repugnance to co-exist, can certainly be known; unless in those of the
  • same sense, which necessarily exclude one another, as I have elsewhere
  • showed. No one, I think, by the colour that is in any body, can
  • certainly know what smell, taste, sound, or tangible qualities it has,
  • nor what alterations it is capable to make or receive on or from other
  • bodies. The same may be said of the sound or taste, &c. Our specific
  • names of substances standing for any collections of such ideas, it
  • is not to be wondered that we can with them make very few general
  • propositions of undoubted real certainty. But yet so far as any complex
  • idea of any sort of substances contains in it any simple idea, whose
  • NECESSARY co-existence with any other MAY be discovered, so far
  • universal propositions may with certainty be made concerning it: v.g.
  • could any one discover a necessary connexion between malleableness and
  • the colour or weight of gold, or any other part of the complex idea
  • signified by that name, he might make a certain universal proposition
  • concerning gold in this respect; and the real truth of this proposition,
  • that ALL GOLD IS MALLIABLE, would be as certain as of this, THE THREE
  • ANGLES OF ALL RIGHT-LINED TRIANGLES ARE ALL EQUAL TO TWO RIGHT ONES.
  • 11. The Qualities which make our complex Ideas of Substances depend
  • mostly on external, remote, and unperceived Causes.
  • Had we such ideas of substances as to know what real constitutions
  • produce those sensible qualities we find in them, and how those
  • qualities flowed from thence, we could, by the specific ideas of
  • their real essences in our own minds, more certainly find out their
  • properties, and discover what qualities they had or had not, than we can
  • now by our senses: and to know the properties of gold, it would be
  • no more necessary that gold should exist, and that we should make
  • experiments upon it, than it is necessary for the knowing the properties
  • of a triangle, that a triangle should exist in any matter, the idea in
  • our minds would serve for the one as well as the other. But we are so
  • far from being admitted into the secrets of nature, that we scarce so
  • much as ever approach the first entrance towards them. For we are wont
  • to consider the substances we meet with, each of them, as an entire
  • thing by itself, having all its qualities in itself, and independent of
  • other things; overlooking, for the most part, the operations of those
  • invisible fluids they are encompassed with, and upon whose motions and
  • operations depend the greatest part of those qualities which are taken
  • notice of in them, and are made by us the inherent marks of distinction
  • whereby we know and denominate them. Put a piece of gold anywhere by
  • itself, separate from the reach and influence of all other bodies,
  • it will immediately lose all its colour and weight, and perhaps
  • malleableness too; which, for aught I know, would be changed into a
  • perfect friability. Water, in which to us fluidity is an essential
  • quality, left to itself, would cease to be fluid. But if inanimate
  • bodies owe so much of their present state to other bodies without them,
  • that they would not be what they appear to us were those bodies that
  • environ them removed; it is yet more so in vegetables, which are
  • nourished, grow, and produce leaves, flowers, and seeds, in a constant
  • succession. And if we look a little nearer into the state of animals,
  • we shall find that their dependence, as to life, motion, and the
  • most considerable qualities to be observed in them, is so wholly on
  • extrinsical causes and qualities of other bodies that make no part of
  • them, that they cannot subsist a moment without them: though yet those
  • bodies on which they depend are little taken notice of, and make no part
  • of the complex ideas we frame of those animals. Take the air but for a
  • minute from the greatest part of living creatures, and they presently
  • lose sense, life, and motion. This the necessity of breathing has forced
  • into our knowledge. But how many other extrinsical and possibly very
  • remote bodies do the springs of these admirable machines depend on,
  • which are not vulgarly observed, or so much as thought on; and how many
  • are there which the severest inquiry can never discover? The inhabitants
  • of this spot of the universe, though removed so many millions of
  • miles from the sun, yet depend so much on the duly tempered motion of
  • particles coming from or agitated by it, that were this earth removed
  • but a small part of the distance out of its present situation, and
  • placed a little further or nearer that source of heat, it is more than
  • probable that the greatest part of the animals in it would immediately
  • perish: since we find them so often destroyed by an excess or defect of
  • the sun's warmth, which an accidental position in some parts of this our
  • little globe exposes them to. The qualities observed in a loadstone must
  • needs have their source far beyond the confines of that body; and the
  • ravage made often on several sorts of animals by invisible causes, the
  • certain death (as we are told) of some of them, by barely passing
  • the line, or, as it is certain of other, by being removed into a
  • neighbouring country; evidently show that the concurrence and operations
  • of several bodies, with which they are seldom thought to have anything
  • to do, is absolutely necessary to make them be what they appear to us,
  • and to preserve those qualities by which we know and distinguish them.
  • We are then quite out of the way, when we think that things contain
  • WITHIN THEMSELVES the qualities that appear to us in them; and we
  • in vain search for that constitution within the body of a fly or an
  • elephant, upon which depend those qualities and powers we observe in
  • them. For which, perhaps, to understand them aright, we ought to look
  • not only beyond this our earth and atmosphere, but even beyond the sun
  • or remotest star our eyes have yet discovered. For how much the being
  • and operation of particular substances in this our globe depends on
  • causes utterly beyond our view, is impossible for us to determine. We
  • see and perceive some of the motions and grosser operations of things
  • here about us; but whence the streams come that keep all these curious
  • machines in motion and repair, how conveyed and modified, is beyond our
  • notice and apprehension: and the great parts and wheels, as I may so
  • say, of this stupendous structure of the universe, may, for aught we
  • know, have such a connexion and dependence in their influences and
  • operations one upon another, that perhaps things in this our mansion
  • would put on quite another face, and cease to be what they are, if some
  • one of the stars or great bodies incomprehensibly remote from us,
  • should cease to be or move as it does. This is certain: things, however
  • absolute and entire they seem in themselves, are but retainers to other
  • parts of nature, for that which they are most taken notice of by us.
  • Their observable qualities, actions, and powers are owing to something
  • without them; and there is not so complete and perfect a part that we
  • know of nature, which does not owe the being it has, and the excellences
  • of it, to its neighbours; and we must not confine our thoughts within
  • the surface of any body, but look a great deal further, to comprehend
  • perfectly those qualities that are in it.
  • 12. Our nominal essences of Substances furnish few universal
  • propositions about them that are certain.
  • If this be so, it is not to be wondered that we have very imperfect
  • ideas of substances, and that the real essences, on which depend their
  • properties and operations, are unknown to us. We cannot discover so much
  • as that size, figure, and texture of their minute and active parts,
  • which is really in much less the different motions and impulses made in
  • and upon them by bodies from without, upon which depends, and by which
  • is formed the greatest and most remarkable part of those qualities we
  • observe in them, and of which our complex ideas of them are made up.
  • This consideration alone is enough to put an end to all our hopes of
  • ever having the ideas of their real essences; which whilst we want, the
  • nominal essences we make use of instead of them will be able to
  • furnish us but very sparingly with any general knowledge, or universal
  • propositions capable of real certainty.
  • 13. Judgment of Probability concerning Substances may reach further: but
  • that is not Knowledge.
  • We are not therefore to wonder, if certainty be to be found in very few
  • general propositions made concerning substances: our knowledge of their
  • qualities and properties goes very seldom further than our senses reach
  • and inform us. Possibly inquisitive and observing men may, by strength
  • of judgment, penetrate further, and, on probabilities taken from wary
  • observation, and hints well laid together, often guess right at what
  • experience has not yet discovered to them. But this is but guessing
  • still; it amounts only to opinion, and has not that certainty which is
  • requisite to knowledge. For all general knowledge lies only in our own
  • thoughts, and consists barely in the contemplation of our own abstract
  • ideas. Wherever we perceive any agreement or disagreement amongst them,
  • there we have general knowledge; and by putting the names of those ideas
  • together accordingly in propositions, can with certainty pronounce
  • general truths. But because the abstract ideas of substances, for
  • which their specific names stand, whenever they have any distinct
  • and determinate signification, have a discoverable connexion or
  • inconsistency with but a very few other ideas, the certainty of
  • universal propositions concerning substances is very narrow and scanty,
  • in that part which is our principal inquiry concerning them; and there
  • are scarce any of the names of substances, let the idea it is applied
  • to be what it will, of which we can generally, and with certainty,
  • pronounce, that it has or has not this or that other quality belonging
  • to it, and constantly co-existing or inconsistent with that idea,
  • wherever it is to be found.
  • 14. What is requisite for our Knowledge of Substances.
  • Before we can have any tolerable knowledge of this kind, we must First
  • know what changes the primary qualities of one body do regularly produce
  • in the primary qualities of another, and how. Secondly, We must know
  • what primary qualities of any body produce certain sensations or ideas
  • in us. This is in truth no less than to know ALL the effects of matter,
  • under its divers modifications of bulk, figure, cohesion of parts,
  • motion and rest. Which, I think every body will allow, is utterly
  • impossible to be known by us without revelation. Nor if it were revealed
  • to us what sort of figure, bulk, and motion of corpuscles would produce
  • in us the sensation of a yellow colour, and what sort of figure, bulk,
  • and texture of parts in the superficies of any body were fit to give
  • such corpuscles their due motion to produce that colour; would that be
  • enough to make universal propositions with certainty, concerning the
  • several sorts of them; unless we had faculties acute enough to perceive
  • the precise bulk, figure, texture, and motion of bodies, in those minute
  • parts, by which they operate on our senses, so that we might by those
  • frame our abstract ideas of them. I have mentioned here only
  • corporeal substances, whose operations seem to lie more level to our
  • understandings. For as to the operations of spirits, both their thinking
  • and moving of bodies, we at first sight find ourselves at a loss; though
  • perhaps, when we have applied our thoughts a little nearer to the
  • consideration of bodies and their operations, and examined how far our
  • notions, even in these, reach with any clearness beyond sensible matter
  • of fact, we shall be bound to confess that, even in these too, our
  • discoveries amount to very little beyond perfect ignorance and
  • incapacity.
  • 15. Whilst our complex Ideas of Substances contain not ideas of their
  • real Constitutions, we can make but few general Propositions concerning
  • them.
  • This is evident, the abstract complex ideas of substances, for which
  • their general names stand, not comprehending their real constitutions,
  • can afford us very little universal certainty. Because our ideas of them
  • are not made up of that on which those qualities we observe in them, and
  • would inform ourselves about, do depend, or with which they have any
  • certain connexion: v.g. let the ideas to which we give the name MAN be,
  • as it commonly is, a body of the ordinary shape, with sense, voluntary
  • motion, and reason joined to it. This being the abstract idea, and
  • consequently the essence of OUR species, man, we can make but very few
  • general certain propositions concerning man, standing for such an idea.
  • Because, not knowing the real constitution on which sensation, power of
  • motion, and reasoning, with that peculiar shape, depend, and whereby
  • they are united together in the same subject, there are very few other
  • qualities with which we can perceive them to have a necessary connexion:
  • and therefore we cannot with certainty affirm: That all men sleep by
  • intervals; That no man can be nourished by wood or stones; That all men
  • will be poisoned by hemlock: because these ideas have no connexion nor
  • repugnancy with this our nominal essence of man, with this abstract idea
  • that name stands for. We must, in these and the like, appeal to trial in
  • particular subjects, which can reach but a little way. We must content
  • ourselves with probability in the rest: but can have no general
  • certainty, whilst our specific idea of man contains not that real
  • constitution which is the root wherein all his inseparable qualities are
  • united, and from whence they flow. Whilst our idea the word MAN stands
  • for is only an imperfect collection of some sensible qualities and
  • powers in him, there is no discernible connexion or repugnance between
  • our specific idea, and the operation of either the parts of hemlock or
  • stones upon his constitution. There are animals that safely eat hemlock,
  • and others that are nourished by wood and stones: but as long as we want
  • ideas of those real constitutions of different sorts of animals whereon
  • these and the like qualities and powers depend, we must not hope to
  • reach certainty in universal propositions concerning them. Those few
  • ideas only which have a discernible connexion with our nominal essence,
  • or any part of it, can afford us such propositions. But these are so
  • few, and of so little moment, that we may justly look on our certain
  • general knowledge of substances as almost none at all.
  • 16. Wherein lies the general Certainty of Propositions.
  • To conclude: general propositions, of what kind soever, are then only
  • capable of certainty, when the terms used in them stand for such ideas,
  • whose agreement or disagreement, as there expressed, is capable to be
  • discovered by us. And we are then certain of their truth or falsehood,
  • when we perceive the ideas the terms stand for to agree or not agree,
  • according as they are affirmed or denied one of another. Whence we may
  • take notice, that general certainty is never to be found but in
  • our ideas. Whenever we go to seek it elsewhere, in experiment or
  • observations without us, our knowledge goes not beyond particulars. It
  • is the contemplation of our own abstract ideas that alone is able to
  • afford us general knowledge.
  • CHAPTER VII. OF MAXIMS
  • 1. Maxims or Axioms are Self-evident Propositions.
  • THERE are a sort of propositions, which, under the name of MAXIMS and
  • AXIOMS, have passed for principles of science: and because they are
  • SELF-EVIDENT, have been supposed innate, without that anybody (that
  • I know) ever went about to show the reason and foundation of their
  • clearness or cogency. It may, however, be worth while to inquire into
  • the reason of their evidence, and see whether it be peculiar to them
  • alone; and also to examine how far they influence and govern our other
  • knowledge.
  • 2. Where in that Self-evidence consists.
  • Knowledge, as has been shown, consists in the perception of the
  • agreement or disagreement of ideas. Now, where that agreement
  • or disagreement is perceived immediately by itself, without the
  • intervention or help of any other, there our knowledge is self-evident.
  • This will appear to be so to any who will but consider any of those
  • propositions which, without any proof, he assents to at first sight: for
  • in all of them he will find that the reason of his assent is from that
  • agreement or disagreement which the mind, by an immediate comparing
  • them, finds in those ideas answering the affirmation or negation in the
  • proposition.
  • 3. Self evidence not peculiar to received Axioms.
  • This being so, in the next place, let us consider whether this
  • self-evidence be peculiar only to those propositions which commonly pass
  • under the name of maxims, and have the dignity of axioms allowed them.
  • And here it is plain, that several other truths, not allowed to be
  • axioms, partake equally with them in this self-evidence. This we shall
  • see, if we go over these several sorts of agreement or disagreement
  • of ideas which I have above mentioned, viz. identity, relation,
  • co-existence, and real existence; which will discover to us, that not
  • only those few propositions which have had the credit of maxims are
  • self-evident, but a great many, even almost an infinite number of other
  • propositions are such.
  • 4. As to Identity and Diversity all Propositions are equally
  • self-evident.
  • I. For, FIRST, The immediate perception of the agreement or disagreement
  • of IDENTITY being founded in the mind's having distinct ideas, this
  • affords us as many self-evident propositions as we have distinct ideas.
  • Every one that has any knowledge at all, has, as the foundation of it,
  • various and distinct ideas: and it is the first act of the mind (without
  • which it can never be capable of any knowledge) to know every one of
  • its ideas by itself, and distinguish it from others. Every one finds in
  • himself, that he knows the ideas he has; that he knows also, when any
  • one is in his understanding, and what it is; and that when more than one
  • are there, he knows them distinctly and unconfusedly one from another;
  • which always being so, (it being impossible but that he should perceive
  • what he perceives,) he can never be in doubt when any idea is in his
  • mind, that it is there, and is that idea it is; and that two distinct
  • ideas, when they are in his mind, are there, and are not one and the
  • same idea. So that all such affirmations and negations are made
  • without any possibility of doubt, uncertainty, or hesitation, and must
  • necessarily be assented to as soon as understood; that is, as soon as we
  • have in our minds [determined ideas,] which the terms in the proposition
  • stand for. [And, therefore, whenever the mind with attention considers
  • any proposition, so as to perceive the two ideas signified by the terms,
  • and affirmed or denied one of the other to be the same or different; it
  • is presently and infallibly certain of the truth of such a proposition;
  • and this equally whether these propositions be in terms standing for
  • more general ideas, or such as are less so: v.g. whether the general
  • idea of Being be affirmed of itself, as in this proposition, 'whatsoever
  • is, is'; or a more particular idea be affirmed of itself, as 'a man is a
  • man'; or, 'whatsoever is white is white'; or whether the idea of being
  • in general be denied of not-Being, which is the only (if I may so
  • call it) idea different from it, as in this other proposition, 'it is
  • impossible for the same thing to be and not to be': or any idea of any
  • particular being be denied of another different from it, as 'a man is
  • not a horse'; 'red is not blue.' The difference of the ideas, as soon as
  • the terms are understood, makes the truth of the proposition presently
  • visible, and that with an equal certainty and easiness in the less as
  • well as the more general propositions; and all for the same reason, viz.
  • because the mind perceives, in any ideas that it has, the same idea to
  • be the same with itself; and two different ideas to be different, and
  • not the same; and this it is equally certain of, whether these ideas
  • be more or less general, abstract, and comprehensive.] It is not,
  • therefore, alone to these two general propositions--'whatsoever is, is';
  • and 'it is impossible for the same thing to be and not to be'--that this
  • sort of self-evidence belongs by any peculiar right. The perception of
  • being, or not being, belongs no more to these vague ideas, signified by
  • the terms WHATSOEVER, and THING, than it does to any other ideas. [These
  • two general maxims, amounting to no more, in short, but this, that THE
  • SAME IS THE SAME, and THE SAME IS NOT DIFFERENT, are truths known in
  • more particular instances, as well as in those general maxims; and known
  • also in particular instances, before these general maxims are ever
  • thought on; and draw all their force from the discernment of the mind
  • employed about particular ideas. There is nothing more visible than
  • that] the mind, without the help of any proof, [or reflection on either
  • of these general propositions,] perceives so clearly, and knows so
  • certainly, that the idea of white is the idea of white, and not the idea
  • of blue; and that the idea of white, when it is in the mind, is there,
  • and is not absent; [that the consideration of these axioms can add
  • nothing to the evidence or certainty of its knowledge.] [Just so it is
  • (as every one may experiment in himself) in all the ideas a man has in
  • his mind: he knows each to be itself, and not to be another; and to be
  • in his mind, and not away when it is there, with a certainty that cannot
  • be greater; and, therefore, the truth of no general proposition can be
  • known with a greater certainty, nor add anything to this.] So that,
  • in respect of identity, our intuitive knowledge reaches as far as our
  • ideas. And we are capable of making as many self-evident propositions,
  • as we have names for distinct ideas. And I appeal to every one's own
  • mind, whether this proposition, 'a circle is a circle,' be not as
  • self-evident a proposition as that consisting of more general terms,
  • 'whatsoever is, is'; and again, whether this proposition, 'blue is not
  • red,' be not a proposition that the mind can no more doubt of, as
  • soon as it understands the words, than it does of that axiom, 'it is
  • impossible for the same thing to be and not to be?' And so of all the
  • like.
  • 5. In Co-existance we have few self-evident Propositions.
  • II. SECONDLY, as to CO-EXISTANCE, or such a necessary connexion between
  • two ideas that, in the subject where one of them is supposed, there the
  • other must necessarily be also: of such agreement or disagreement as
  • this, the mind has an immediate perception but in very few of them. And
  • therefore in this sort we have but very little intuitive knowledge: nor
  • are there to be found very many propositions that are self-evident,
  • though some there are: v.g. the idea of filling a place equal to the
  • contents of its superficies, being annexed to our idea of body, I think
  • it is a self-evident proposition, that two bodies cannot be in the same
  • place.
  • 6. III. In other Relations we may have many.
  • THIRDLY, As to the RELATIONS OF MODES, mathematicians have framed many
  • axioms concerning that one relation of equality. As, 'equals taken from
  • equals, the remainder will be equal'; which, with the rest of that kind,
  • however they are received for maxims by the mathematicians, and are
  • unquestionable truths, yet, I think, that any one who considers them
  • will not find that they have a clearer self-evidence than these,--that
  • 'one and one are equal to two', that 'if you take from the five fingers
  • of one hand two, and from the five fingers of the other hand two,
  • the remaining numbers will be equal.' These and a thousand other such
  • propositions may be found in numbers, which, at the very first hearing,
  • force the assent, and carry with them an equal if not greater clearness,
  • than those mathematical axioms.
  • 7. IV. Concerning real Existence, we have none.
  • FOURTHLY, as to REAL EXISTANCE, since that has no connexion with any
  • other of our ideas, but that of ourselves, and of a First Being, we have
  • in that, concerning the real existence of all other beings, not so much
  • as demonstrative, much less a self-evident knowledge: and, therefore,
  • concerning those, there are no maxims.
  • 8. These Axioms do not much influence our other Knowledge.
  • In the next place let us consider, what influence these received maxims
  • have upon the other parts of our knowledge. The rules established in the
  • schools, that all reasonings are EX PRAECOGNITIS ET PRAECONCESSIS, seem
  • to lay the foundation of all other knowledge in these maxims, and to
  • suppose them to be PRAECOGNITA. Whereby, I think, are meant these two
  • things: first, that these axioms are those truths that are first known
  • to the mind; and, secondly, that upon them the other parts of our
  • knowledge depend.
  • 9. Because Maxims or Axioms are not the Truths we first knew.
  • FIRST, That they are not the truths first known to the mind is evident
  • to experience, as we have shown in another place. (Book I. chap, 1.) Who
  • perceives not that a child certainly knows that a stranger is not its
  • mother; that its sucking-bottle is not the rod, long before he knows
  • that 'it is impossible for the same thing to be and not to be?' And how
  • many truths are there about numbers, which it is obvious to observe that
  • the mind is perfectly acquainted with, and fully convinced of, before it
  • ever thought on these general maxims, to which mathematicians, in their
  • arguings, do sometimes refer them? Whereof the reason is very plain: for
  • that which makes the mind assent to such propositions, being nothing
  • else but the perception it has of the agreement or disagreement of its
  • ideas, according as it finds them affirmed or denied one of another in
  • words it understands; and every idea being known to be what it is,
  • and every two distinct ideas being known not to be the same; it must
  • necessarily follow that such self-evident truths must be first known
  • which consist of ideas that are first in the mind. And the ideas first
  • in the mind, it is evident, are those of particular things, from whence
  • by slow degrees, the understanding proceeds to some few general ones;
  • which being taken from the ordinary and familiar objects of sense, are
  • settled in the mind, with general names to them. Thus PARTICULAR IDEAS
  • are first received and distinguished, and so knowledge got about them;
  • and next to them, the less general or specific, which are next to
  • particular. For abstract ideas are not so obvious or easy to children,
  • or the yet unexercised mind, as particular ones. If they seem so to
  • grown men, it is only because by constant and familiar use they are made
  • so. For, when we nicely reflect upon them, we shall find that GENERAL
  • IDEAS are fictions and contrivances of the mind, that carry difficulty
  • with them and do not so easily offer themselves as we are apt to
  • imagine. For example, does it not require some pains and skill to form
  • the general idea of a triangle,(which is yet none of the more abstract,
  • comprehensive, and difficult,) for it must be neither oblique nor
  • rectangle, neither equilateral, equicrural, nor scalinon; but all and
  • none of these at once. In effect, it is something imperfect, that cannot
  • exist; an idea wherein some part of several different and inconsistant
  • ideas are put together. It is true, the mind, in this imperfect state,
  • has need of such ideas, and makes all the haste to them it can, for the
  • conveniency of communication and enlargement of knowledge; to both which
  • it is naturally very much inclined. But yet one has reason to suspect
  • such ideas are marks of our imperfection; at least, this is enough to
  • show that the most abstract and general ideas are not those that the
  • mind is first and most easily acquainted with, nor such as its earliest
  • knowledge is conversant about.
  • 10. Because on perception of them the other Parts of our Knowledge do
  • not depend.
  • Secondly, from what has been said it plainly follows, that these
  • magnified maxims are not the principles and foundations of all our other
  • knowledge. For if there be a great many other truths, which have as much
  • self-evidence as they, and a great many that we know before them, it is
  • impossible they should be the principles from which we deduce all other
  • truths. Is it impossible to know that one and two are equal to three,
  • but by virtue of this, or some such axiom, viz. 'the whole is equal to
  • all its parts taken together?' Many a one knows that one and two are
  • equal to three, without having heard, or thought on, that or any other
  • axiom by which it might be proved; and knows it as certainly as any
  • other man knows, that 'the whole is equal to all its parts,' or any
  • other maxim; and all from the same reason of self-evidence: the equality
  • of those ideas being as visible and certain to him without that or any
  • other axiom as with it, it needing no proof to make it perceived. Nor
  • after the knowledge, that the whole is equal to all its parts, does he
  • know that one and two are equal to three, better or more certainly than
  • he did before. For if there be any odds in those ideas, the whole and
  • parts are more obscure, or at least more difficult to be settled in the
  • mind than those of one, two, and three. And indeed, I think, I may ask
  • these men, who will needs have all knowledge, besides those general
  • principles themselves, to depend on general, innate, and self-evident
  • principles. What principle is requisite to prove that one and one are
  • two, that two and two are four, that three times two are six? Which
  • being known without any proof, do evince, That either all knowledge does
  • not depend on certain PRAECOGNITA or general maxims, called principles;
  • or else that these are principles: and if these are to be counted
  • principles, a great part of numeration will be so. To which, if we
  • add all the self-evident propositions which may be made about all
  • our distinct ideas, principles will be almost infinite, at least
  • innumerable, which men arrive to the knowledge of, at different ages;
  • and a great many of these innate principles they never come to know all
  • their lives. But whether they come in view of the mind earlier or later,
  • this is true of them, that they are all known by their native evidence;
  • are wholly independent; receive no light, nor are capable of any proof
  • one from another; much less the more particular from the more general,
  • or the more simple from the more compounded; the more simple and
  • less abstract being the most familiar, and the easier and earlier
  • apprehended. But whichever be the clearest ideas, the evidence and
  • certainty of all such propositions is in this, That a man sees the same
  • idea to be the same idea, and infallibly perceives two different ideas
  • to be different ideas. For when a man has in his understanding the ideas
  • of one and of two, the idea of yellow, and the idea of blue, he cannot
  • but certainly know that the idea of one is the idea of one, and not the
  • idea of two; and that the idea of yellow is the idea of yellow, and not
  • the idea of blue. For a man cannot confound the ideas in his mind, which
  • he has distinct: that would be to have them confused and distinct at the
  • same time, which is a contradiction: and to have none distinct, is
  • to have no use of our faculties, to have no knowledge at all. And,
  • therefore, what idea soever is affirmed of itself, or whatsoever two
  • entire distinct ideas are denied one of another, the mind cannot
  • but assent to such a proposition as infallibly true, as soon as it
  • understands the terms, without hesitation or need of proof, or regarding
  • those made in more general terms and called maxims.
  • 11. What use these general Maxims or Axioms have.
  • [What shall we then say? Are these general maxims of no use? By no
  • means; though perhaps their use is not that which it is commonly taken
  • to be. But, since doubting in the least of what hath been by some
  • men ascribed to these maxims may be apt to be cried out against, as
  • overturning the foundations of all the sciences; it may be worth while
  • to consider them with respect to other parts of our knowledge, and
  • examine more particularly to what purposes they serve, and to what not.
  • {Of no use to prove less general propositions, nor as foundations on
  • consideration of which any science has been built.}
  • (1) It is evident from what has been already said, that they are of no
  • use to prove or confirm less general self-evident propositions. (2) It
  • is as plain that they are not, nor have been the foundations whereon
  • any science hath been built. There is, I know, a great deal of talk,
  • propagated from scholastic men, of sciences and the maxims on which
  • they are built: but it has been my ill-luck never to meet with any such
  • sciences; much less any one built upon these two maxims, WHAT IS, IS;
  • and IT IS IMPOSSIBLE FOR THE SAME THING TO BE AND NOT TO BE. And I would
  • be glad to be shown where any such science, erected upon these or any
  • other general axioms is to be found: and should be obliged to any one
  • who would lay before me the frame and system of any science so built on
  • these or any such like maxims, that could not be shown to stand as firm
  • without any consideration of them. I ask, Whether these general maxims
  • have not the same use in the study of divinity, and in theological
  • questions, that they have in other sciences? They serve here, too, to
  • silence wranglers, and put an end to dispute. But I think that nobody
  • will therefore say, that the Christian religion is built upon these
  • maxims, or that the knowledge we have of it is derived from these
  • principles. It is from revelation we have received it, and without
  • revelation these maxims had never been able to help us to it. When we
  • find out an idea by whose intervention we discover the connexion of two
  • others, this is a revelation from God to us by the voice of reason:
  • for we then come to know a truth that we did not know before. When God
  • declares any truth to us, this is a revelation to us by the voice of his
  • Spirit, and we are advanced in our knowledge. But in neither of these
  • do we receive our light or knowledge from maxims. But in the one, the
  • things themselves afford it: and we see the truth in them by perceiving
  • their agreement or disagreement. In the other, God himself affords it
  • immediately to us: and we see the truth of what he says in his unerring
  • veracity.
  • (3) Nor as helps in the discovery of yet unknown truths.
  • They are not of use to help men forward in the advancement of sciences,
  • or new discoveries of yet unknown truths. Mr. Newton, in his never
  • enough to be admired book, has demonstrated several propositions, which
  • are so many new truths, before unknown to the world, and are further
  • advances in mathematical knowledge: but, for the discovery of these, it
  • was not the general maxims, 'what is, is;' or, 'the whole is bigger than
  • a part,' or the like, that helped him. These were not the clues that led
  • him into the discovery of the truth and certainty of those propositions.
  • Nor was it by them that he got the knowledge of those demonstrations,
  • but by finding out intermediate ideas that showed the agreement
  • or disagreement of the ideas, as expressed in the propositions he
  • demonstrated. This is the greatest exercise and improvement of human
  • understanding in the enlarging of knowledge, and advancing the
  • sciences; wherein they are far enough from receiving any help from the
  • contemplation of these or the like magnified maxims. Would those who
  • have this traditional admiration of these propositions, that they think
  • no step can be made in knowledge without the support of an axiom, no
  • stone laid in the building of the sciences without a general maxim,
  • but distinguish between the method of acquiring knowledge, and of
  • communicating it; between the method of raising any science, and that
  • of teaching it to others, as far as it is advanced--they would see
  • that those general maxims were not the foundations on which the first
  • discoverers raised their admirable structures, nor the keys that
  • unlocked and opened those secrets of knowledge. Though afterwards, when
  • schools were erected, and sciences had their professors to teach what
  • others had found out, they often made use of maxims, i.e. laid down
  • certain propositions which were self-evident, or to be received
  • for true; which being settled in the minds of their scholars as
  • unquestionable verities, they on occasion made use of, to convince them
  • of truths in particular instances, that were not so familiar to their
  • minds as those general axioms which had before been inculcated to them,
  • and carefully settled in their minds. Though these particular instances,
  • when well reflected on, are no less self-evident to the understanding
  • than the general maxims brought to confirm them: and it was in those
  • particular instances that the first discoverer found the truth, without
  • the help of the general maxims: and so may any one else do, who with
  • attention considers them.
  • {Maxims of use in the exposition of what has been discovered, and in
  • silencing obstinate wranglers.}
  • To come, therefore, to the use that is made of maxims. (1) They are of
  • use, as has been observed, in the ordinary methods of teaching sciences
  • as far as they are advanced: but of little or none in advancing them
  • further. (2) They are of use in disputes, for the silencing of obstinate
  • wranglers, and bringing those contests to some conclusion. Whether a
  • need of them to that end came not in the manner following, I crave leave
  • to inquire. The Schools having made disputation the touchstone of men's
  • abilities, and the criterion of knowledge, adjudged victory to him that
  • kept the field: and he that had the last word was concluded to have the
  • better of the argument, if not of the cause. But because by this means
  • there was like to be no decision between skilful combatants, whilst one
  • never failed of a MEDIUS TERMINUS to prove any proposition; and the
  • other could as constantly, without or with a distinction, deny the major
  • or minor; to prevent, as much as could be, running out of disputes into
  • an endless train of syllogisms, certain general propositions--most of
  • them, indeed, self-evident--were introduced into the Schools: which
  • being such as all men allowed and agreed in, were looked on as general
  • measures of truth, and served instead of principles (where the
  • disputants had not lain down any other between them) beyond which there
  • was no going, and which must not be receded from by either side. And
  • thus these maxims, getting the name of principles, beyond which men in
  • dispute could not retreat, were by mistake taken to be the originals and
  • sources from whence all knowledge began, and the foundations whereon the
  • sciences were built. Because when in their disputes they came to any
  • of these, they stopped there, and went no further; the matter was
  • determined. But how much this is a mistake, hath been already shown.
  • {How Maxims came to be so much in vogue.}
  • This method of the Schools, which have been thought the fountains of
  • knowledge, introduced, as I suppose, the like use of these maxims into
  • a great part of conversation out of the Schools, to stop the mouths of
  • cavillers, whom any one is excused from arguing any longer with,
  • when they deny these general self-evident principles received by all
  • reasonable men who have once thought of them: but yet their use herein
  • is but to put an end to wrangling. They in truth, when urged in such
  • cases, teach nothing: that is already done by the intermediate ideas
  • made use of in the debate, whose connexion may be seen without the help
  • of those maxims, and so the truth known before the maxim is produced,
  • and the argument brought to a first principle. Men would give off
  • a wrong argument before it came to that, if in their disputes they
  • proposed to themselves the finding and embracing of truth, and not a
  • contest for victory. And thus maxims have their use to put a stop to
  • their perverseness, whose ingenuity should have yielded sooner. But the
  • method of the Schools having allowed and encouraged men to oppose and
  • resist evident truth till they are baffled, i.e. till they are reduced
  • to contradict themselves, or some established principles: it is no
  • wonder that they should not in civil conversation be ashamed of that
  • which in the Schools is counted a virtue and a glory, viz. obstinately
  • to maintain that side of the question they have chosen, whether true or
  • false, to the last extremity; even after conviction. A strange way to
  • attain truth and knowledge: and that which I think the rational part of
  • mankind, not corrupted by education, could scare believe should ever
  • be admitted amongst the lovers of truth, and students of religion or
  • nature, or introduced into the seminaries of those who are to propegate
  • the truths of religion or philosophy amongst the ignorant and
  • unconvinced. How much such a way of learning is like to turn young men's
  • minds from the sincere search and love of truth; nay, and to make them
  • doubt whether there is any such thing, or, at least, worth the adhering
  • to, I shall not now inquire. This I think, that, bating those places,
  • which brought the Peripatetic Philosophy into their schools, where it
  • continued many ages, without teaching the world anything but the art of
  • wrangling, these maxims were nowhere thought the foundations on which
  • the sciences were built, nor the great helps to the advancement of
  • knowledge.]
  • {Of great use to stop wranglers in disputes, but of little use to the
  • discovery of truths.}
  • As to these general maxims, therefore, they are, as I have said, of
  • great use in disputes, to stop the mouths of wranglers; but not of much
  • use to the discovery of unknown truths, or to help the mind forwards in
  • its search after knowledge. For who ever began to build his knowledge on
  • this general proposition, WHAT IS, IS; or, IT IS IMPOSSIBLE FOR THE SAME
  • THING TO BE AND NOT TO BE: and from either of these, as from a principle
  • of science, deduced a system of useful knowledge? Wrong opinions often
  • involving contradictions, one of these maxims, as a touchstone, may
  • serve well to show whither they lead. But yet, however fit to lay open
  • the absurdity or mistake of a man's reasoning or opinion, they are of
  • very little use for enlightening the understanding: and it will not be
  • found that the mind receives much help from them in its progress in
  • knowledge; which would be neither less, nor less certain, were these two
  • general propositions never thought on. It is true, as I have said, they
  • sometimes serve in argumentation to stop a wrangler's mouth, by showing
  • the absurdity of what he saith, [and by exposing him to the shame of
  • contradicting what all the world knows, and he himself cannot but own to
  • be true.] But it is one thing to show a man that he is in an error, and
  • another to put him in possession of truth, and I would fain know what
  • truths these two propositions are able to teach, and by their influence
  • make us know which we did not know before, or could not know without
  • them. Let us reason from them as well as we can, they are only about
  • identical predications, and influence, if any at all, none but such.
  • Each particular proposition concerning identity or diversity is as
  • clearly and certainly known in itself, if attended to, as either of
  • these general ones: [only these general ones, as serving in all cases,
  • are therefore more inculcated and insisted on.] As to other less general
  • maxims, many of them are no more than bare verbal propositions, and
  • teach us nothing but the respect and import of names one to another.
  • 'The whole is equal to all its parts:' what real truth, I beseech you,
  • does it teach us? What more is contained in that maxim, than what the
  • signification of the word TOTUM, or the WHOLE, does of itself import?
  • And he that knows that the WORD whole stands for what is made up of all
  • its parts, knows very little less than that the whole is equal to all
  • its parts. And, upon the same ground, I think that this proposition, 'A
  • hill is higher than a valley', and several the like, may also pass for
  • maxims. But yet [masters of mathematics, when they would, as teachers of
  • what they know, initiate others in that science do not] without reason
  • place this and some other such maxims [at the entrance of their
  • systems]; that their scholars, having in the beginning perfectly
  • acquainted their thoughts with these propositions, made in such general
  • terms, may be used to make such reflections, and have these more general
  • propositions, as formed rules and sayings, ready to apply to all
  • particular cases. Not that if they be equally weighed, they are more
  • clear and evident than the particular instances they are brought to
  • confirm; but that, being more familiar to the mind, the very naming them
  • is enough to satisfy the understanding. But this, I say, is more from
  • our custom of using them, and the establishment they have got in our
  • minds by our often thinking of them, than from the different evidence
  • of the things. But before custom has settled methods of thinking and
  • reasoning in our minds, I am apt to imagine it is quite otherwise; and
  • that the child, when a part of his apple is taken away, knows it better
  • in that particular instance, than by this general proposition, 'The
  • whole is equal to all its parts;' and that, if one of these have need to
  • be confirmed to him by the other, the general has more need to be let
  • into his mind by the particular, than the particular by the general.
  • For in _particulars_ our knowledge begins, and so spreads itself, by
  • degrees, to _generals_ [Footnote: This is the order in time of the
  • conscious acquistion of knowledge that is human. The _Essay_ might be
  • regarded as a commentary on this one sentence. Our intellectual progress
  • is from particulars and involuntary recipiency, through reactive doubt
  • and criticism, into what is at last reasoned faith.]. Though afterwards
  • the mind takes the quite contrary course, and having drawn its knowledge
  • into as general propositions as it can, makes those familiar to its
  • thoughts, and accustoms itself to have recourse to them, as to the
  • standards of truth and falsehood. [Footnote: This is the philosophic
  • attitude. Therein one consciously apprehends the intellectual
  • necessities that were UNCONCIOUSLY PRESUPPOSED, its previous
  • intellectual progress. In philosophy we 'draw our knowledge into as
  • general propositions as it can' be made to assume, and thus either learn
  • to see it as an organic while in a speculative unity, or learn that it
  • cannot be so seen in a finite intelligence, and that even at the last
  • it must remain 'broken' and mysterious in the human understanding. ]
  • By which familiar use of them, as rules to measure the truth of other
  • propositions, it comes in time to be thought, that more particular
  • propositions have their truth and evidence from their conformity to
  • these more general ones, which, in discourse and argumentation, are so
  • frequently urged, and constantly admitted. And this I think to be the
  • reason why, amongst so many self-evident propositions, the MOST
  • GENERAL ONLY have had the title of MAXIMS.
  • 12. Maxims, if care be not taken in the Use of Words, may prove
  • Contradictions.
  • One thing further, I think, it may not be amiss to observe concerning
  • these general maxims, That they are so far from improving or
  • establishing our minds in true knowledge that if our notions be wrong,
  • loose, or unsteady, and we resign up our thoughts to the sound of words,
  • rather than [fix them on settled, determined] ideas of things; I say
  • these general maxims will serve to confirm us in mistakes; and in such
  • a way of use of words, which is most common, will serve to prove
  • contradictions: v.g. he that with Descartes shall frame in his mind
  • an idea of what he calls body to be nothing but extension, may easily
  • demonstrate that there is no vacuum, i.e. no space void of body, by this
  • maxim, WHAT IS, IS. For the idea to which he annexes the name body,
  • being bare extension, his knowledge that space cannot be without
  • body, is certain. For he knows his own idea of extension clearly and
  • distinctly, and knows that it is what it is, and not another idea,
  • though it be called by these three names,--extension, body, space. Which
  • three words, standing for one and the same idea, may, no doubt, with
  • the same evidence and certainty be affirmed one of another, as each of
  • itself: and it is as certain, that, whilst I use them all to stand for
  • one and the same idea, this predication is as true and identical in its
  • signification, that 'space is body,' as this predication is true and
  • identical, that 'body is body,' both in signification and sound.
  • 13. Instance in Vacuum.
  • But if another should come and make to himself another idea, different
  • from Descartes's, of the thing, which yet with Descartes he calls by the
  • same name body, and make his idea, which he expresses by the word body,
  • to be of a thing that hath both extension and solidity together; he will
  • as easily demonstrate, that there may be a vacuum or space without a
  • body, as Descartes demonstrated the contrary. Because the idea to which
  • he gives the name space being barely the simple one of extension, and
  • the idea to which he gives the name body being the complex idea of
  • extension and resistibility or solidity, together in the same
  • subject, these two ideas are not exactly one and the same, but in the
  • understanding as distinct as the ideas of one and two, white and black,
  • or as of CORPOREITY and HUMANITY, if I may use those barbarous terms:
  • and therefore the predication of them in our minds, or in words standing
  • for them, is not identical, but the negation of them one of another;
  • [viz. this proposition: 'Extension or space is not body,' is] as true
  • and evidently certain as this maxim, IT IS IMPOSSIBLE FOR THE SAME THING
  • TO BE AND NOT TO BE, [can make any proposition.]
  • 14. But they prove not the Existance of things without us.
  • But yet, though both these propositions (as you see) may be equally
  • demonstrated, viz. that there may be a vacuum, and that there cannot be
  • a vacuum, by these two certain principles, viz. WHAT IS, IS, and THE
  • SAME THING CANNOT BE AND NOT BE: yet neither of these principles will
  • serve to prove to us, that any, or what bodies do exist: for that we are
  • left to our senses to discover to us as far as they can. Those universal
  • and self-evident principles being only our constant, clear, and distinct
  • knowledge of our own ideas, more general or comprehensive, can assure us
  • of nothing that passes without the mind: their certainty is founded
  • only upon the knowledge we have of each idea by itself, and of its
  • distinction from others, about which we cannot be mistaken whilst they
  • are in our minds; though we may be and often are mistaken when we retain
  • the names without the ideas; or use them confusedly, sometimes for
  • one and sometimes for another idea. In which cases the force of these
  • axioms, reaching only to the sound, and not the signification of the
  • words, serves only to lead us into confusion, mistake, and error. [It is
  • to show men that these maxims, however cried up for the great guards of
  • truth, will not secure them from error in a careless loose use of their
  • words, that I have made this remark. In all that is here suggested
  • concerning their little use for the improvement of knowledge, or
  • dangerous use in undetermined ideas, I have been far enough from saying
  • or intending they should be laid aside; as some have been too forward
  • to charge me. I affirm them to be truths, self-evident truths; and so
  • cannot be laid aside. As far as their influence will reach, it is in
  • vain to endeavour, nor will I attempt, to abridge it. But yet, without
  • any injury to truth or knowledge, I may have reason to think their use
  • is not answerable to the great stress which seems to be laid on them;
  • and I may warn men not to make an ill use of them, for the confirming
  • themselves in errors.]
  • 15. They cannot add to our knowledge of Substances, and their
  • Application to complex Ideas is dangerous.
  • But let them be of what use they will in verbal propositions, they
  • cannot discover or prove to us the least knowledge of the nature of
  • substances, as they are found and exist without us, any further than
  • grounded on experience. And though the consequence of these two
  • propositions, called principles, be very clear, and their use not
  • dangerous or hurtful, in the probation of such things wherein there is
  • no need at all of them for proof, but such as are clear by themselves
  • without them, viz. where our ideas are [determined] and known by the
  • names that stand for them: yet when these principles, viz. WHAT IS, IS,
  • and IT IS IMPOSSIBLE FOR THE SAME THING TO BE AND NOT TO BE, are made
  • use of in the probation of propositions wherein are words standing for
  • complex ideas, v.g. man, horse, gold, virtue; there they are of infinite
  • danger, and most commonly make men receive and retain falsehood for
  • manifest truth, and uncertainty for demonstration: upon which follow
  • error, obstinacy, and all the mischiefs that can happen from wrong
  • reasoning. The reason whereof is not, that these principles are less
  • true [or of less force] in proving propositions made of terms standing
  • for complex ideas, than where the propositions are about simple ideas.
  • [But because men mistake generally,--thinking that where the same terms
  • are preserved, the propositions are about the same things, though the
  • ideas they stand for are in truth different, therefore these maxims
  • are made use of to support those which in sound and appearance are
  • contradictory propositions; and is clear in the demonstrations above
  • mentioned about a vacuum. So that whilst men take words for things,
  • as usually they do, these maxims may and do commonly serve to prove
  • contradictory propositions; as shall yet be further made manifest]
  • 16. Instance in demonstrations about Man which can only be verbal.
  • For instance: let MAN be that concerning which you would by these first
  • principles demonstrate anything, and we shall see, that so far as
  • demonstration is by these principles, it is only verbal, and gives us
  • no certain, universal, true proposition, or knowledge, of any being
  • existing without us. First, a child having framed the idea of a man, it
  • is probable that his idea is just like that picture which the
  • painter makes of the visible appearances joined together; and such a
  • complication of ideas together in his understanding makes up the single
  • complex idea which he calls man, whereof white or flesh-colour in
  • England being one, the child can demonstrate to you that a negro is not
  • a man, because white colour was one of the constant simple ideas of the
  • complex idea he calls man; and therefore he can demonstrate, by the
  • principle, IT IS IMPOSSIBLE FOR THE SAME THING TO BE AND NOT TO BE, that
  • a negro is NOT a man; the foundation of his certainty being not that
  • universal proposition, which perhaps he never heard nor thought of, but
  • the clear, distinct perception he hath of his own simple ideas of black
  • and white, which he cannot be persuaded to take, nor can ever mistake
  • one for another, whether he knows that maxim or no. And to this child,
  • or any one who hath such an idea, which he calls man, can you never
  • demonstrate that a man hath a soul, because his idea of man includes no
  • such notion or idea in it. And therefore, to him, the principle of WHAT
  • IS, IS, proves not this matter; but it depends upon collection and
  • observation, by which he is to make his complex idea called man.
  • 17. Another instance.
  • Secondly, Another that hath gone further in framing and collecting the
  • idea he calls MAN, and to the outward shape adds laughter and rational
  • discourse, may demonstrate that infants and changelings are no men, by
  • this maxim, IT IS IMPOSSIBLE FOR THE SAME THING TO BE AND NOT TO BE; and
  • I have discoursed with very rational men, who have actually denied that
  • they are men.
  • 18. A third instance.
  • Thirdly, Perhaps another makes up the complex idea which he calls MAN,
  • only out of the ideas of body in general, and the powers of language and
  • reason, and leaves out the shape wholly: this man is able to demonstrate
  • that a man may have no hands, but be QUADRUPES, neither of those being
  • included in his idea of man: and in whatever body or shape he found
  • speech and reason joined, that was a man; because, having a clear
  • knowledge of such a complex idea, it is certain that WHAT IS, IS.
  • 19. Little use of these Maxims in Proofs where we have clear and
  • distinct Ideas.
  • So that, if rightly considered, I think we may say, That where our ideas
  • are determined in our minds, and have annexed to them by us known and
  • steady names under those settled determinations, there is little need,
  • or no use at all of these maxims, to prove the agreement or disagreement
  • of any of them. He that cannot discern the truth or falsehood of such
  • propositions, without the help of these and the like maxims, will not be
  • helped by these maxims to do it: since he cannot be supposed to know the
  • truth of these maxims themselves without proof, if he cannot know the
  • truth of others without proof, which are as self-evident as these. Upon
  • this ground it is that intuitive knowledge neither requires nor admits
  • any proof, one part of it more than another. He that will suppose it
  • does, takes away the foundation of all knowledge and certainty; and he
  • that needs any proof to make him certain, and give his assent to this
  • proposition, that two are equal to two, will also have need of a proof
  • to make him admit, that what is, is. He that needs a probation to
  • convince him that two are not three, that white is not black, that a
  • triangle is not a circle, &c., or any other two [determined] distinct
  • ideas are not one and the same, will need also a demonstration to
  • convince him that IT IS IMPOSSIBLE FOR THE SAME THING TO BE AND NOT TO
  • BE.
  • 20. Their Use dangerous where our Ideas are not determined
  • And as these maxims are of little use where we have determined ideas, so
  • they are, as I have showed, of dangerous use where [our ideas are not
  • determined; and where] we use words that are not annexed to determined
  • ideas, but such as are of a loose and wandering signification, sometimes
  • standing for one, and sometimes for another idea: from which follow
  • mistake and error, which these maxims (brought as proofs to establish
  • propositions, wherein the terms stand for undetermined ideas) do by
  • their authority confirm and rivet.
  • CHAPTER VIII. OF TRIFLING PROPOSITIONS.
  • 1. Some Propositions bring no Increase to our Knowledge.
  • WHETHER the maxims treated of in the foregoing chapter be of that use to
  • real knowledge as is generally supposed, I leave to be considered.
  • This, I think, may confidently be affirmed, That there ARE universal
  • propositions, which, though they be certainly true, yet they add no
  • light to our understanding; bring no increase to our knowledge. Such
  • are--
  • 2. As, First, identical Propositions.
  • First, All purely IDENTICAL PROPOSITIONS. These obviously and at first
  • blush appear to contain no instruction in them; for when we affirm the
  • said term of itself, whether it be barely verbal, or whether it contains
  • any clear and real idea, it shows us nothing but what we must certainly
  • know before, whether such a proposition be either made by, or proposed
  • to us. Indeed, that most general one, WHAT IS, IS, may serve sometimes
  • to show a man the absurdity he is guilty of, when, by circumlocution or
  • equivocal terms, he would in particular instances deny the same thing of
  • itself; because nobody will so openly bid defiance to common sense, as
  • to affirm visible and direct contradictions in plain words; or, if he
  • does, a man is excused if he breaks off any further discourse with him.
  • But yet I think I may say, that neither that received maxim, nor any
  • other identical proposition, teaches us anything; and though in such
  • kind of propositions this great and magnified maxim, boasted to be the
  • foundation of demonstration, may be and often is made use of to confirm
  • them, yet all it proves amounts to no more than this, That the same word
  • may with great certainty be affirmed of itself, without any doubt of the
  • truth of any such proposition; and let me add, also, without any real
  • knowledge.
  • 3. Examples.
  • For, at this rate, any very ignorant person, who can but make a
  • proposition, and knows what he means when he says ay or no, may make a
  • million of propositions of whose truth he may be infallibly certain, and
  • yet not know one thing in the world thereby; v.g. 'what is a soul, is a
  • soul;' or, 'a soul is a soul;' 'a spirit is a spirit;' 'a fetiche is a
  • fetiche,' &c. These all being equivalent to this proposition, viz. WHAT
  • IS, IS; i.e. what hath existence, hath existence; or, who hath a soul,
  • hath a soul. What is this more than trifling with words? It is but like
  • a monkey shifting his oyster from one hand to the other: and had he but
  • words, might no doubt have said, 'Oyster in right hand is subject, and
  • oyster in left hand is predicate:' and so might have made a self-evident
  • proposition of oyster, i.e. oyster is oyster; and yet, with all this,
  • not have been one whit the wiser or more knowing: and that way of
  • handling the matter would much at one have satisfied the monkey's
  • hunger, or a man's understanding, and they would have improved in
  • knowledge and bulk together.
  • 4. Secondly, Propositions in which a part of any complex Idea is
  • predicated of the Whole.
  • II. Another sort of trifling propositions is, WHEN A PART OF THE
  • COMPLEX IDEA IS PREDICATED OF THE NAME OF THE WHOLE; a part of the
  • definition of the word defined. Such are all propositions wherein the
  • genus is predicated of the species, or more comprehensive of less
  • comprehensive terms. For what information, what knowledge, carries this
  • proposition in it, viz. 'Lead is a metal' to a man who knows the complex
  • idea the name lead stands for? All the simple ideas that go to the
  • complex one signified by the term metal, being nothing but what he
  • before comprehended and signified by the name lead. Indeed, to a man
  • that knows the signification of the word metal, and not of the word
  • lead, it is a shorter way to explain the signification of the word lead,
  • by saying it is a metal, which at once expresses several of its simple
  • ideas, than to enumerate them one by one, telling him it is a body very
  • heavy, fusible, and malleable.
  • 5. As part of the Definition of the Term Defined.
  • Alike trifling it is to predicate any other part of the definition of
  • the term defined, or to affirm anyone of the simple ideas of a complex
  • one of the name of the whole complex idea; as, 'All gold is fusible.'
  • For fusibility being one of the simple ideas that goes to the making up
  • the complex one the sound gold stands for, what can it be but playing
  • with sounds, to affirm that of the name gold, which is comprehended
  • in its received signification? It would be thought little better than
  • ridiculous to affirm gravely, as a truth of moment, that gold is yellow;
  • and I see not how it is any jot more material to say it is fusible,
  • unless that quality be left out of the complex idea, of which the sound
  • gold is the mark in ordinary speech. What instruction can it carry with
  • it, to tell one that which he hath been told already, or he is supposed
  • to know before? For I am supposed to know the signification of the word
  • another uses to me, or else he is to tell me. And if I know that the
  • name gold stands for this complex idea of body, yellow, heavy, fusible,
  • malleable, it will not much instruct me to put it solemnly afterwards in
  • a proposition, and gravely say, all gold is fusible. Such propositions
  • can only serve to show the disingenuity of one who will go from the
  • definition of his own terms, by reminding him sometimes of it; but carry
  • no knowledge with them, but of the signification of words, however
  • certain they be.
  • 6. Instance, Man and Palfrey.
  • 'Every man is an animal, or living body,' is as certain a proposition as
  • can be; but no more conducing to the knowledge of things than to say, a
  • palfrey is an ambling horse, or a neighing, ambling animal, both being
  • only about the signification of words, and make me know but this--That
  • body, sense, and motion, or power of sensation and moving, are three of
  • those ideas that I always comprehend and signify by the word man: and
  • where they are not to be found together, the NAME MAN belongs not to
  • that thing: and so of the other--That body, sense, and a certain way of
  • going, with a certain kind of voice, are some of those ideas which I
  • always comprehend and signify by the WORD PALFREY; and when they are not
  • to be found together, the name palfrey belongs not to that thing. It is
  • just the same, and to the same purpose, when any term standing for any
  • one or more of the simple ideas, that altogether make up that complex
  • idea which is called man, is affirmed of the term man:--v.g. suppose a
  • Roman signified by the word HOMO all these distinct ideas united in one
  • subject, CORPORIETAS, SENSIBILITAS, POTENTIA SE MOVENDI, RATIONALITAS,
  • RISIBILITAS; he might, no doubt, with great certainty, universally
  • affirm one, more, or all of these together of the word HOMO, but did no
  • more than say that the word HOMO, in his country, comprehended in its
  • signification all these ideas. Much like a romance knight, who by
  • the word PALFREY signified these ideas:--body of a certain figure,
  • four-legged, with sense, motion, ambling, neighing, white, used to have
  • a woman on his back--might with the same certainty universally affirm
  • also any or all of these of the WORD palfrey: but did thereby teach no
  • more, but that the word palfrey, in his or romance language, stood for
  • all these, and was not to be applied to anything where any of these was
  • wanting But he that shall tell me, that in whatever thing sense, motion,
  • reason, and laughter, were united, that thing had actually a notion of
  • God, or would be cast into a sleep by opium, made indeed an instructive
  • proposition: because neither having the notion of God, nor being cast
  • into sleep by opium, being contained in the idea signified by the word
  • man, we are by such propositions taught something more than barely what
  • the word MAN stands for: and therefore the knowledge contained in it is
  • more than verbal.
  • 7. For this teaches but the Signification of Words.
  • Before a man makes any proposition, he is supposed to understand the
  • terms he uses in it, or else he talks like a parrot, only making a noise
  • by imitation, and framing certain sounds, which he has learnt of others;
  • but not as a rational creature, using them for signs of ideas which he
  • has in his mind. The hearer also is supposed to understand the terms
  • as the speaker uses them, or else he talks jargon, and makes an
  • unintelligible noise. And therefore he trifles with words who makes such
  • a proposition, which, when it is made, contains no more than one of the
  • terms does, and which a man was supposed to know before: v.g. a triangle
  • hath three sides, or saffron is yellow. And this is no further tolerable
  • than where a man goes to explain his terms to one who is supposed or
  • declares himself not to understand him; and then it teaches only the
  • signification of that word, and the use of that sign.
  • 8. But adds no real Knowledge.
  • We can know then the truth of two sorts of propositions with perfect
  • certainty. The one is, of those trifling propositions which have
  • a certainty in them, but it is only a verbal certainty, but not
  • instructive. And, secondly, we can know the truth, and so may be certain
  • in propositions, which affirm something of another, which is a necessary
  • consequence of its precise complex idea, but not contained in it: as
  • that, the external angle of all triangles is bigger than either of the
  • opposite internal angles. Which relation of the outward angle to either
  • of the opposite internal angles, making no part of the complex idea
  • signified by the name triangle, this is a real truth, and conveys with
  • it instructive real knowledge.
  • 9. General Propositions concerning Substances are often trifling.
  • We having little or no knowledge of what combinations there be of simple
  • ideas existing together in substances, but by our senses, we cannot make
  • any universal certain propositions concerning them, any further than our
  • nominal essences lead us. Which being to a very few and inconsiderable
  • truths, in respect of those which depend on their real constitutions,
  • the general propositions that are made about substances, if they are
  • certain, are for the most part but trifling; and if they are
  • instructive, are uncertain, and such as we can have no knowledge of
  • their real truth, how much soever constant observation and analogy may
  • assist our judgment in guessing. Hence it comes to pass, that one may
  • often meet with very clear and coherent discourses, that amount yet to
  • nothing. For it is plain that names of substantial beings, as well as
  • others, as far as they have relative significations affixed to them,
  • may, with great truth, be joined negatively and affirmatively in
  • propositions, as their relative definitions make them fit to be so
  • joined; and propositions consisting of such terms, may, with the same
  • clearness, be deduced one from another, as those that convey the most
  • real truths: and all this without any knowledge of the nature or reality
  • of things existing without us. By this method one may make
  • demonstrations and undoubted propositions in words, and yet thereby
  • advance not one jot in the knowledge of the truth of things: v. g. he
  • that having learnt these following words, with their ordinary mutual
  • relative acceptations annexed to them; v. g. SUBSTANCE, MAN, ANIMAL,
  • FORM, SOUL, VEGETATIVE, SENSITIVE, RATIONAL, may make several undoubted
  • propositions about the soul, without knowing at all what the soul really
  • is: and of this sort, a man may find an infinite number of propositions,
  • reasonings, and conclusions, in books of metaphysics, school-divinity,
  • and some sort of natural philosophy; and, after all, know as little of
  • God, spirits, or bodies, as he did before he set out.
  • 10. And why.
  • He that hath liberty to define, i.e. to determine the signification of
  • his names of substances (as certainly every one does in effect, who
  • makes them stand for his own ideas), and makes their significations at a
  • venture, taking them from his own or other men's fancies, and not from
  • an examination or inquiry into the nature of things themselves; may with
  • little trouble demonstrate them one of another, according to those
  • several respects and mutual relations he has given them one to another;
  • wherein, however things agree or disagree in their own nature, he needs
  • mind nothing but his own notions, with the names he hath bestowed upon
  • them: but thereby no more increases his own knowledge than he does his
  • riches, who, taking a bag of counters, calls one in a certain place a
  • pound, another in another place a shilling, and a third in a third place
  • a penny; and so proceeding, may undoubtedly reckon right, and cast up a
  • great sum, according to his counters so placed, and standing for more or
  • less as he pleases, without being one jot the richer, or without even
  • knowing how much a pound, shilling, or penny is, but only that one is
  • contained in the other twenty times, and contains the other twelve:
  • which a man may also do in the signification of words, by making them,
  • in respect of one another, more or less, or equally comprehensive.
  • 11. Thirdly, using Words variously is trifling with them.
  • Though yet concerning most words used in discourses, equally
  • argumentative and controversial, there is this more to be complained of,
  • which is the worst sort of trifling, and which sets us yet further from
  • the certainty of knowledge we hope to attain by them, or find in them;
  • viz. that most writers are so far from instructing us in the nature and
  • knowledge of things, that they use their words loosely and uncertainly,
  • and do not, by using them constantly and steadily in the same
  • significations make plain and clear deductions of words one from
  • another, and make their discourses coherent and clear, (how little
  • soever they were instructive); which were not difficult to do, did they
  • not find it convenient to shelter their ignorance or obstinacy under the
  • obscurity and perplexedness of their terms: to which, perhaps,
  • inadvertency and ill custom do in many men much contribute.
  • 12. Marks of verbal Propositions. First, Predication in Abstract.
  • To conclude. Barely verbal propositions may be known by these following
  • marks:
  • First, All propositions wherein two abstract terms are affirmed one of
  • another, are barely about the signification of sounds. For since no
  • abstract idea can be the same with any other but itself, when its
  • abstract name is affirmed of any other term, it can signify no more but
  • this, that it may, or ought to be called by that name; or that these two
  • names signify the same idea. Thus, should any one say that parsimony is
  • frugality, that gratitude is justice, that this or that action is or is
  • not temperate: however specious these and the like propositions may at
  • first sight seem, yet when we come to press them, and examine nicely
  • what they contain, we shall find that it all amounts to nothing but the
  • signification of those terms.
  • 13. Secondly, A part of the Definition predicated of any Term.
  • Secondly, All propositions wherein a part of the complex idea which any
  • term stands for is predicated of that term, are only verbal: v.g. to say
  • that gold is a metal, or heavy. And thus all propositions wherein more
  • comprehensive words, called genera, are affirmed of subordinate or less
  • comprehensive, called species, or individuals, are barely verbal.
  • When by these two rules we have examined the propositions that make up
  • the discourses we ordinarily meet with, both in and out of books, we
  • shall perhaps find that a greater part of them than is usually suspected
  • are purely about the signification of words, and contain nothing in them
  • but the use and application of these signs.
  • This I think I may lay down for an infallible rule, That, wherever the
  • distinct idea any word stands for is not known and considered, and
  • something not contained in the idea is not affirmed or denied of it,
  • there our thoughts stick wholly in sounds, and are able to attain no
  • real truth or falsehood. This, perhaps, if well heeded, might save us a
  • great deal of useless amusement and dispute; and very much shorten our
  • trouble and wandering in the search of real and true knowledge.
  • CHAPTER IX. OF OUR THREEFOLD KNOWLEDGE OF EXISTENCE.
  • 1. General Propositions that are certain concern not Existence.
  • HITHERTO we have only considered the essences of things; which being
  • only abstract ideas, and thereby removed in our thoughts from particular
  • existence, (that being the proper operation of the mind, in abstraction,
  • to consider an idea under no other existence but what it has in the
  • understandings,) gives us no knowledge of real existence at all. Where,
  • by the way, we may take notice, that universal propositions of whose
  • truth or falsehood we can have certain knowledge concern not existence:
  • and further, that all particular affirmations or negations that would
  • not be certain if they were made general, are only concerning existence;
  • they declaring only the accidental union or separation of ideas in
  • things existing, which, in their abstract natures, have no known
  • necessary union or repugnancy.
  • 2. A threefold Knowledge of Existence.
  • But, leaving the nature of propositions, and different ways of
  • predication to be considered more at large in another place, let us
  • proceed now to inquire concerning our knowledge of the EXISTANCE OF
  • THINGS, and how we come by it. I say, then, that we have the knowledge
  • of OUR OWN existence by intuition; of the existence of GOD by
  • demonstration; and of OTHER THINGS by sensation.
  • 3. Our Knowledge of our own Existence is Intuitive.
  • As for OUR OWN EXISTENCE, we perceive it so plainly and so certainly,
  • that it neither needs nor is capable of any proof for nothing can be
  • more evident to us than our own existence. I think, I reason, I feel
  • pleasure and pain: can any of these be more evident to me than my own
  • existence? If I doubt of all other things, that very doubt makes me
  • perceive my own existence, and will not suffer me to doubt of that. For
  • if I know I feel pain, it is evident I have as certain perception of my
  • own existence, as of the existence of the pain I feel: or if I know
  • I doubt, I have as certain perception of the existence of the thing
  • doubting, as of that thought which I CALL DOUBT. Experience then
  • convinces us, that we have an INTUITIVE KNOWLEDGE of our own existence,
  • and an internal infallible perception that we are. In every act of
  • sensation, reasoning, or thinking, we are conscious to ourselves of our
  • own being; and, in this matter, come not short of the highest degree of
  • certainty.
  • CHAPTER X. OF OUR KNOWLEDGE OF THE EXISTENCE OF A GOD.
  • 1. We are capable of knowing certainly that there is a God.
  • THOUGH God has given us no innate ideas of himself; though he has
  • stamped no original characters on our minds, wherein we may read his
  • being; yet having furnished us with those faculties our minds are
  • endowed with, he hath not left himself without witness: since we have
  • sense, perception, and reason, and cannot want a clear proof of him, as
  • long as we carry OURSELVES about us. Nor can we justly complain of our
  • ignorance in this great point; since he has so plentifully provided us
  • with the means to discover and know him; so far as is necessary to the
  • end of our being, and the great concernment of our happiness. But,
  • though this be the most obvious truth that reason discovers, and though
  • its evidence be (if I mistake not) equal to mathematical certainty: yet
  • it requires thought and attention; and the mind must apply itself to a
  • regular deduction of it from some part of our intuitive knowledge,
  • or else we shall be as uncertain and ignorant of this as of other
  • propositions, which are in themselves capable of clear demonstration. To
  • show, therefore, that we are capable of KNOWING, i.e. BEING CERTAIN that
  • there is a God, and HOW WE MAY COME BY this certainty, I think we need
  • go no further than OURSELVES, and that undoubted knowledge we have of
  • our own existence.
  • 2. For Man knows that he himself exists.
  • I think it is beyond question, that man has a clear idea of his own
  • being; he knows certainly he exists, and that he is something. He that
  • can doubt whether he be anything or no, I speak not to; no more than I
  • would argue with pure nothing, or endeavour to convince nonentity that
  • it were something. If any one pretends to be so sceptical as to deny his
  • own existence, (for really to doubt of it is manifestly impossible,) let
  • him for me enjoy his beloved happiness of being nothing, until hunger or
  • some other pain convince him of the contrary. This, then, I think I may
  • take for a truth, which every one's certain knowledge assures him of,
  • beyond the liberty of doubting, viz. that he is SOMETHING THAT ACTUALLY
  • EXISTS.
  • 3. He knows also that Nothing cannot produce a Being; therefore
  • Something must have existed from Eternity.
  • In the next place, man knows, by an intuitive certainty, that bare
  • NOTHING CAN NO MORE PRODUCE ANY REAL BEING, THAN IT CAN BE EQUAL TO TWO
  • RIGHT ANGLES. If a man knows not that nonentity, or the absence of all
  • being, cannot be equal to two right angles, it is impossible he should
  • know any demonstration in Euclid. If, therefore, we know there is some
  • real being, and that nonentity cannot produce any real being, it is an
  • evident demonstration, that FROM ETERNITY THERE HAS BEEN SOMETHING;
  • since what was not from eternity had a beginning; and what had a
  • beginning must be produced by something else.
  • 4. And that eternal Being must be most powerful.
  • Next, it is evident, that what had its being and beginning from another,
  • must also have all that which is in and belongs to its being from
  • another too. All the powers it has must be owing to and received from
  • the same source. This eternal source, then, of all being must also be
  • the source and original of all power; and so THIS ETERNAL BEING MUST BE
  • ALSO THE MOST POWERFUL.
  • 5. And most knowing.
  • Again, a man finds in HIMSELF perception and knowledge. We have then got
  • one step further; and we are certain now that there is not only some
  • being, but some knowing, intelligent being in the world. There was a
  • time, then, when there was no knowing being, and when knowledge began to
  • be; or else there has been also A KNOWING BEING FROM ETERNITY. If it
  • be said, there was a time when no being had any knowledge, when that
  • eternal being was void of all understanding; I reply, that then it
  • was impossible there should ever have been any knowledge: it being as
  • impossible that things wholly void of knowledge, and operating blindly,
  • and without any perception, should produce a knowing being, as it is
  • impossible that a triangle should make itself three angles bigger than
  • two right ones. For it is as repugnant to the idea of senseless matter,
  • that it should put into itself sense, perception, and knowledge, as it
  • is repugnant to the idea of a triangle, that it should put into itself
  • greater angles than two right ones.
  • 6. And therefore God.
  • Thus, from the consideration of ourselves, and what we infallibly find
  • in our own constitutions, our reason leads us to the knowledge of this
  • certain and evident truth,--THAT THERE IS AN ETERNAL, MOST POWERFUL, AND
  • MOST KNOWING BEING; which whether any one will please to call God, it
  • matters not. The thing is evident; and from this idea duly considered,
  • will easily be deduced all those other attributes, which we ought to
  • ascribe to this eternal Being. [If, nevertheless, any one should be
  • found so senselessly arrogant, as to suppose man alone knowing and wise,
  • but yet the product of mere ignorance and chance; and that all the rest
  • of the universe acted only by that blind haphazard; I shall leave with
  • him that very rational and emphatical rebuke of Tully (1. ii. De Leg.),
  • to be considered at his leisure: 'What can be more sillily arrogant
  • and misbecoming, than for a man to think that he has a mind and
  • understanding in him, but yet in all the universe beside there is no
  • such thing? Or that those things, which with the utmost stretch of his
  • reason he can scarce comprehend, should be moved and managed without any
  • reason at all?' QUID EST ENIM VERIUS, QUAM NEMINEM ESSE OPORTERE TAM
  • STULTE AROGANTEM, UT IN SE MENTEM ET RATIONEM PUTET INESSE IN COELO
  • MUNDOQUE NON PUTET? AUT EA QUOE VIZ SUMMA INGENII RATIONE COMPREHENDAT,
  • NULLA RATIONE MOVERI PUTET?]
  • From what has been said, it is plain to me we have a more certain
  • knowledge of the existence of a God, than of anything: our senses have
  • not immediately discovered to us. Nay, I presume I may say, that we more
  • certainly know that there is a God, than that there is anything else
  • without us. When I say we KNOW, I mean there is such a knowledge within
  • our reach which we cannot miss, if we will but apply our minds to that,
  • as we do to several other inquiries.
  • 7. Our idea of a most perfect Being, not the sole Proof of a God.
  • How far the IDEA of a most perfect being, which a man, may frame in his
  • mind, does or does not prove the EXISTENCE of a God, I will not here
  • examine. For in the different make of men's tempers and application of
  • their thoughts, some arguments prevail more on one, and some on another,
  • for the confirmation of the same truth. But yet, I think, this I may
  • say, that it is an ill way of establishing this truth, and silencing
  • atheists, to lay the whole stress of so important a point as this upon
  • that sole foundation: and take some men's having that idea of God in
  • their minds, (for it is evident some men have none, and some worse than
  • none, and the most very different,) for the only proof of a Deity; and
  • out of an over fondness of that darling invention, cashier, or at least
  • endeavour to invalidate all other arguments; and forbid us to hearken to
  • those proofs, as being weak or fallacious, which our own existence, and
  • the sensible parts of the universe offer so clearly and cogently to our
  • thoughts, that I deem it impossible for a considering man to withstand
  • them. For I judge it as certain and clear a truth as can anywhere be
  • delivered, that 'the invisible things of God are clearly seen from the
  • creation of the world, being understood by the things that are made,
  • even his eternal power and Godhead.' Though our own being furnishes us,
  • as I have shown, with an evident and incontestible proof of a Deity; and
  • I believe nobody can avoid the cogency of it, who will but as carefully
  • attend to it, as to any other demonstration of so many parts: yet this
  • being so fundamental a truth, and of that consequence, that all religion
  • and genuine morality depend thereon, I doubt not but I shall be forgiven
  • by my reader if I go over some parts of this argument again, and enlarge
  • a little more upon them.
  • 8. Recapitulation Something from Eternity.
  • There is no truth more evident than that SOMETHING must be FROM
  • ETERNITY. I never yet heard of any one so unreasonable, or that could
  • suppose so manifest a contradiction, as a time wherein there was
  • perfectly nothing. This being of all absurdities the greatest, to
  • imagine that pure nothing, the perfect negation and absence of all
  • beings, should ever produce any real existence.
  • It being, then, unavoidable for all rational creatures to conclude, that
  • SOMETHING has existed from eternity; let us next see WHAT KIND OF THING
  • that must be.
  • 9. Two Sorts of Beings, cogitative and incogitative.
  • There are but two sorts of beings in the world that man knows or
  • conceives.
  • First, such as are purely material, without sense, perception, or
  • thought, as the clippings of our beards, and parings of our nails.
  • Secondly, sensible, thinking, perceiving beings, such as we find
  • ourselves to be. Which, if you please, we will hereafter call COGITATIVE
  • and INCOGITATIVE beings; which to our present purpose, if for nothing
  • else, are perhaps better terms than material and immaterial.
  • 10. Incogitative Being cannot produce a Cogitative Being.
  • If, then, there must be something eternal, let us see what sort of being
  • it must be. And to that it is very obvious to reason, that it must
  • necessarily be a cogitative being. For it is as impossible to conceive
  • that ever bare incogitative matter should produce a thinking intelligent
  • being, as that nothing should of itself produce matter. Let us suppose
  • any parcel of matter eternal, great or small, we shall find it, in
  • itself, able to produce nothing. For example: let us suppose the matter
  • of the next pebble we meet with eternal, closely united, and the parts
  • firmly at rest together; if there were no other being in the world, must
  • it not eternally remain so, a dead inactive lump? Is it possible to
  • conceive it can add motion to itself, being purely matter, or produce
  • anything? Matter, then, by its own strength, cannot produce in itself so
  • much as motion: the motion it has must also be from eternity, or else
  • be produced, and added to matter by some other being more powerful than
  • matter; matter, as is evident, having not power to produce motion in
  • itself. But let us suppose motion eternal too: yet matter, INCOGITATIVE
  • matter and motion, whatever changes it might produce of figure and bulk,
  • could never produce thought: knowledge will still be as far beyond the
  • power of motion and matter to produce, as matter is beyond the power
  • of nothing or nonentity to produce. And I appeal to every one's own
  • thoughts, whether he cannot as easily conceive matter produced by
  • NOTHING, as thought to be produced by pure matter, when, before, there
  • was no such thing as thought or an intelligent being existing? Divide
  • matter into as many parts as you will, (which we are apt to imagine a
  • sort of spiritualizing, or making a thinking thing of it,) vary the
  • figure and motion of it as much as you please--a globe, cube, cone,
  • prism, cylinder, &c., whose diameters are but 100,000th part of a GRY,
  • will operate no otherwise upon other bodies of proportionable bulk, than
  • those of an inch or foot diameter; and you may as rationally expect to
  • produce sense, thought, and knowledge, by putting together, in a certain
  • figure and motion, gross particles of matter, as by those that are the
  • very minutest that do anywhere exist. They knock, impel, and resist one
  • another, just as the greater do; and that is all they can do. So that,
  • if we will suppose NOTHING first or eternal, matter can never begin to
  • be: if we suppose bare matter without motion, eternal, motion can never
  • begin to be: if we suppose only matter and motion first, or eternal,
  • thought can never begin to be. [For it is impossible to conceive that
  • matter, either with or without motion, could have, originally, in and
  • from itself, sense, perception, and knowledge; as is evident from hence,
  • that then sense, perception, and knowledge, must be a property eternally
  • inseparable from matter and every particle of it. Not to add, that,
  • though our general or specific conception of matter makes us speak of it
  • as one thing, yet really all matter is not one individual thing, neither
  • is there any such thing existing as ONE material being, or ONE single
  • body that we know or can conceive. And therefore, if matter were
  • the eternal first cogitative being, there would not be one eternal,
  • infinite, cogitative being, but an infinite number of eternal, finite,
  • cogitative beings, independent one of another, of limited force, and
  • distinct thoughts, which could never produce that order, harmony, and
  • beauty which are to be found in nature. Since, therefore, whatsoever is
  • the first eternal being must necessarily be cogitative; and] whatsoever
  • is first of all things must necessarily contain in it, and actually
  • have, at least, all the perfections that can ever after exist; nor can
  • it ever give to another any perfection that it hath not either actually
  • in itself, or, at least, in a higher degree; [it necessarily follows,
  • that the first eternal being cannot be matter.]
  • 11. Therefore, there has been an Eternal Wisdom.
  • If, therefore, it be evident, that something necessarily must exist from
  • eternity, it is also as evident, that that something must necessarily
  • be a cogitative being: for it is as impossible that incogitative matter
  • should produce a cogitative being, as that nothing, or the negation of
  • all being, should produce a positive being or matter.
  • 12. The Attributes of the Eternal Cogitative Being.
  • Though this discovery of the NECESSARY EXISTANCE OF A ETERNAL MIND does
  • sufficiently lead us into the knowledge of God; since it will hence
  • follow, that all other knowing beings that have a beginning must depend
  • on him, and have in other ways of knowledge or extent of power than what
  • He gives them; and therefore, if he made those, he made all the less
  • excellent pieces of this universe,--all inanimate beings whereby his
  • omniscience, power, and providence will be established, and all his
  • other attributes necessarily follow yet, to clear up this a little
  • further, we will see what doubt can be raised against it.
  • 13. Whether the Eternal Mind may be also material or no.
  • FIRST, Perhaps it will be said, that, though it be as clear as
  • demonstration can make it, that there must be an eternal Being, and that
  • Being must also be knowing: yet it does not follow but that thinking
  • Being may also be MATERIAL. Let it be so, it equally still follows that
  • there is a God. For there be an eternal, omniscient, omnipotent Being,
  • it is certain that there is a God, whether you imagine that Being to be
  • material or no. But herein, I suppose, lies the danger and deceit of
  • that supposition:--there being no way to avoid the demonstration,
  • that there is an eternal knowing Being, men devoted to matter, would
  • willingly have it granted, that that knowing Being is material;
  • and then, letting slide out of their minds, or the discourse, the
  • demonstration whereby an eternal KNOWING Being was proved necessarily
  • to exist, would argue all to be matter, and so deny a God, that is, an
  • eternal cogitative Being: whereby they are so far from establishing,
  • that they destroy their own hypothesis. For, if there can be, in their
  • opinion, eternal matter, without any eternal cogitative Being, they
  • manifestly separate matter and thinking, and suppose no necessary
  • connexion of the one with the other, and so establish the necessity of
  • an eternal Spirit, but not of matter; since it has been proved already,
  • that an eternal cogitative Being is unavoidably to be granted. Now, if
  • thinking and matter may be separated, the eternal existence of matter
  • will not follow from the eternal existence of a cogitative Being, and
  • they suppose it to no purpose.
  • 14. Not material: First, because each Particle of Matter is not
  • cogitative.
  • But now let us see how they can satisfy themselves, or others, that this
  • eternal thinking Being is material.
  • I. I would ask them, whether they imagine that all matter, EVERY
  • PARTICLE OF MATTER, thinks? This, I suppose, they will scarce say;
  • since then there would be as many eternal thinking beings as there are
  • particles of matter, and so an infinity of gods. And yet, if they will
  • not allow matter as matter, that is, every particle of matter, to be as
  • well cogitative as extended, they will have as hard a task to make out
  • to their own reasons a cogitative being out of incogitative particles,
  • as an extended being out of unextended parts, if I may so speak.
  • 15. II. Secondly, Because one Particle alone of Matter cannot be
  • cogitative.
  • If all matter does not think, I next ask, Whether it be ONLY ONE ATOM
  • that does so? This has as many absurdities as the other; for then this
  • atom of matter must be alone eternal or not. If this alone be eternal,
  • then this alone, by its powerful thought or will, made all the rest of
  • matter. And so we have the creation of matter by a powerful thought,
  • which is that the materialists stick at; for if they suppose one single
  • thinking atom to have produced all the rest of matter, they cannot
  • ascribe that pre-eminency to it upon any other account than that of its
  • thinking, the only supposed difference. But allow it to be by some other
  • way which is above our conception, it must still be creation; and these
  • men must give up their great maxim, EX NIHILO NIL FIT. If it be said,
  • that all the rest of matter is equally eternal as that thinking atom,
  • it will be to say anything at pleasure, though ever so absurd. For to
  • suppose all matter eternal, and yet one small particle in knowledge and
  • power infinitely above all the rest, is without any the least appearance
  • of reason to frame an hypothesis. Every particle of matter, as matter,
  • is capable of all the same figures and motions of any other; and I
  • challenge any one, in his thoughts, to add anything else to one above
  • another.
  • 16. III. Thirdly, Because a System of incogitative Matter cannot be
  • cogitative.
  • If then neither one peculiar atom alone can be this eternal thinking
  • being; nor all matter, as matter, i. e. every particle of matter, can be
  • it; it only remains, that it is some certain SYSTEM of matter, duly put
  • together, that is this thinking eternal Being. This is that which, I
  • imagine, is that notion which men are aptest to have of God; who would
  • have him a material being, as most readily suggested to them by the
  • ordinary conceit they have of themselves and other men, which they take
  • to be material thinking beings. But this imagination, however more
  • natural, is no less absurd than the other; for to suppose the eternal
  • thinking Being to be nothing else but a composition of particles of
  • matter, each whereof is incogitative, is to ascribe all the wisdom and
  • knowledge of that eternal Being only to the juxta-position of parts;
  • than which nothing can be more absurd. For unthinking particles of
  • matter, however put together, can have nothing thereby added to them,
  • but a new relation of position, which it is impossible should give
  • thought and knowledge to them.
  • 17. And whether this corporeal System is in Motion or at Rest.
  • But further: this corporeal system either has all its parts at rest, or
  • it is a certain motion of the parts wherein its thinking consists. If it
  • be perfectly at rest, it is but one lump, and so can have no privileges
  • above one atom.
  • If it be the motion of its parts on which its thinking depends, all the
  • thoughts there must be unavoidably accidental and limited; since all the
  • particles that by motion cause thought, being each of them in itself
  • without any thought, cannot regulate its own motions, much less be
  • regulated by the thought of the whole; since that thought is not the
  • cause of motion, (for then it must be antecedent to it, and so without
  • it,) but the consequence of it; whereby freedom, power, choice, and all
  • rational and wise thinking or acting, will be quite taken away: so
  • that such a thinking being will be no better nor wiser than pure blind
  • matter; since to resolve all into the accidental unguided motions of
  • blind matter, or into thought depending on unguided motions of blind
  • matter, is the same thing: not to mention the narrowness of such
  • thoughts and knowledge that must depend on the motion of such parts. But
  • there needs no enumeration of any more absurdities and impossibilities
  • in this hypothesis (however full of them it be) than that before
  • mentioned; since, let this thinking system be all or a part of the
  • matter of the universe, it is impossible that any one particle should
  • either know its own, or the motion of any other particle, or the whole
  • know the motion of every particle; and so regulate its own thoughts or
  • motions, or indeed have any thought resulting from such motion.
  • 18. Matter not co-eternal with an Eternal Mind.
  • SECONDLY, Others would have Matter to be eternal, notwithstanding that
  • they allow an eternal, cogitative, immaterial Being. This, though it
  • take not away the being of a God, yet, since it denies one and the first
  • great piece of his workmanship, the creation, let us consider it a
  • little. Matter must be allowed eternal: Why? because you cannot conceive
  • how it can be made out of nothing: why do you not also think yourself
  • eternal? You will answer, perhaps, Because, about twenty or forty years
  • since, you began to be. But if I ask you, what that YOU is, which began
  • then to be, you can scarce tell me. The matter whereof you are made
  • began not then to be: for if it did, then it is not eternal: but it
  • began to be put together in such a fashion and frame as makes up your
  • body; but yet that frame of particles is not you, it makes not that
  • thinking thing you are; (for I have now to do with one who allows an
  • eternal, immaterial, thinking Being, but would have unthinking Matter
  • eternal too;) therefore, when did that thinking thing begin to be? If it
  • did never begin to be, then have you always been a thinking thing from
  • eternity; the absurdity whereof I need not confute, till I meet with one
  • who is so void of understanding as to own it. If, therefore, you can
  • allow a thinking thing to be made out of nothing, (as all things that
  • are not eternal must be,) why also can you not allow it possible for a
  • material being to be made out of nothing by an equal power, but that you
  • have the experience of the one in view, and not of the other? Though,
  • when well considered, creation [of a spirit will be found to require
  • no less power than the creation of matter. Nay, possibly, if we would
  • emancipate ourselves from vulgar notions, and raise our thoughts, as far
  • as they would reach, to a closer contemplation of things, we might be
  • able to aim at some dim and seeming conception how MATTER might at first
  • be made, and begin to exist, by the power of that eternal first Being:
  • but to give beginning and being to a SPIRIT would be found a more
  • inconceivable effect of omnipotent power. But this being what would
  • perhaps lead us too far from the notions on which the philosophy now in
  • the world is built, it would not be pardonable to deviate so far from
  • them; or to inquire, so far as grammar itself would authorize, if the
  • common settled opinion opposes it: especially in this place, where the
  • received doctrine serves well enough to our present purpose, and leaves
  • this past doubt, that] the creation or beginning of any one [SUBSTANCE]
  • out of nothing being once admitted, the creation of all other but the
  • Creator himself, may, with the same ease, be supposed.
  • 19. Objection: Creation out of nothing.
  • But you will say, Is it not impossible to admit of the making anything
  • out of nothing, SINCE WE CANNOT POSSIBLY CONCEIVE IT? I answer, No.
  • Because it is not reasonable to deny the power of an infinite being,
  • because we cannot comprehend its operations. We do not deny other
  • effects upon this ground, because we cannot possibly conceive the manner
  • of their production. We cannot conceive how anything but impulse of body
  • can move body; and yet that is not a reason sufficient to make us deny
  • it possible, against the constant experience we have of it in ourselves,
  • in all our voluntary motions; which are produced in us only by the free
  • action or thought of our own minds, and are not, nor can be, the effects
  • of the impulse or determination of the motion of blind matter in or upon
  • our own bodies; for then it could not be in our power or choice to alter
  • it. For example: my right hand writes, whilst my left hand is still:
  • What causes rest in one, and motion in the other? Nothing but my
  • will,--a thought of my mind; my thought only changing, the right hand
  • rests, and the left hand moves. This is matter of fact, which cannot be
  • denied: explain this and make it intelligible, and then the next step
  • will be to understand creation. [For the giving a new determination to
  • the motion of the animal spirits (which some make use of to explain
  • voluntary motion) clears not the difficulty one jot. To alter the
  • determination of motion, being in this case no easier nor less, than
  • to give motion itself: since the new determination given to the animal
  • spirits must be either immediately by thought, or by some other body put
  • in their way by thought which was not in their way before, and so must
  • owe ITS motion to thought: either of which leaves VOLUNTARY motion as
  • unintelligible as it was before.] In the meantime, it is an over-valuing
  • ourselves to reduce all to the narrow measure of our capacities; and to
  • conclude all things impossible to be done, whose manner of doing exceeds
  • our comprehension. This is to make our comprehension infinite, or God
  • finite, when what He can do is limited to what we can conceive of it.
  • If you do not understand the operations of your own finite mind, that
  • thinking thing within you, do not deem it strange that you cannot
  • comprehend the operations of that eternal infinite Mind, who made and
  • governs all things, and whom the heaven of heavens cannot contain.
  • CHAPTER XI.
  • OF OUR KNOWLEDGE OF THE EXISTENCE OF OTHER THINGS.
  • 1. Knowledge of the existence of other Finite Beings is to be had only
  • by actual Sensation.
  • The knowledge of our own being we have by intuition. The existence of a
  • God, reason clearly makes known to us, as has been shown.
  • The knowledge of the existence of ANY OTHER THING we can have only by
  • SENSATION: for there being no necessary connexion of real existence with
  • any IDEA a man hath in his memory; nor of any other existence but that
  • of God with the existence of any particular man: no particular man
  • can know the existence of any other being, but only when, by actual
  • operating upon him, it makes itself perceived by him. For, the having
  • the idea of anything in our mind, no more proves the existence of that
  • thing, than the picture of a man evidences his being in the world, or
  • the visions of a dream make thereby a true history.
  • 2. Instance: Whiteness of this Paper.
  • It is therefore the ACTUAL RECEIVING of ideas from without that gives
  • us notice of the existence of other things, and makes us know, that
  • something doth exist at that time without us, which causes that idea in
  • us; though perhaps we neither know nor consider how it does it. For it
  • takes not from the certainty of our senses, and the ideas we receive by
  • them, that we know not the manner wherein they are produced: v.g. whilst
  • I write this, I have, by the paper affecting my eyes, that idea produced
  • in my mind, which, whatever object causes, I call WHITE; by which I know
  • that that quality or accident (i.e. whose appearance before my eyes
  • always causes that idea) doth really exist, and hath a being without me.
  • And of this, the greatest assurance I can possibly have, and to which my
  • faculties can attain, is the testimony of my eyes, which are the proper
  • and sole judges of this thing; whose testimony I have reason to rely on
  • as so certain, that I can no more doubt, whilst I write this, that I
  • see white and black, and that something really exists that causes that
  • sensation in me, than that I write or move my hand; which is a certainty
  • as great as human nature is capable of, concerning the existence of
  • anything, but a man's self alone, and of God.
  • 3. This notice by our Senses, though not so certain as Demonstration,
  • yet may be called Knowledge, and proves the Existence of Things without
  • us.
  • The notice we have by our senses of the existing of things without us,
  • though it be not altogether so certain as our intuitive knowledge, or
  • the deductions of our reason employed about the clear abstract ideas
  • of our own minds; yet it is an assurance that deserves the name of
  • KNOWLEDGE. If we persuade ourselves that our faculties act and inform
  • us right concerning the existence of those objects that affect them, it
  • cannot pass for an ill-grounded confidence: for I think nobody can, in
  • earnest, be so sceptical as to be uncertain of the existence of those
  • things which he sees and feels. At least, he that can doubt so far,
  • (whatever he may have with his own thoughts,) will never have any
  • controversy with me; since he can never be sure I say anything contrary
  • to his own opinion. As to myself, I think God has given me assurance
  • enough of the existence of things without me: since, by their different
  • application, I can produce in myself both pleasure and pain, which
  • is one great concernment of my present state. This is certain: the
  • confidence that our faculties do not herein deceive us, is the greatest
  • assurance we are capable of concerning the existence of material beings.
  • For we cannot act anything but by our faculties; nor talk of knowledge
  • itself, but by the help of those faculties which are fitted to apprehend
  • even what knowledge is.
  • But besides the assurance we have from our senses themselves, that they
  • do not err in the information they give us of the existence of things
  • without us, when they are affected by them, we are further confirmed in
  • this assurance by other concurrent reasons:--
  • 4. I. Confirmed by concurrent reasons:--First, Because we cannot have
  • ideas of Sensation but by the Inlet of the Senses.
  • It is plain those perceptions are produced in us by exterior causes
  • affecting our senses: because those that want the ORGANS of any sense,
  • never can have the ideas belonging to that sense produced in their
  • minds. This is too evident to be doubted: and therefore we cannot but be
  • assured that they come in by the organs of that sense, and no other way.
  • The organs themselves, it is plain, do not produce them: for then the
  • eyes of a man in the dark would produce colours, and his nose smell
  • roses in the winter: but we see nobody gets the relish of a pineapple,
  • till he goes to the Indies, where it is, and tastes it.
  • 5. II. Secondly, Because we find that an Idea from actual Sensation, and
  • another from memory, are very distinct Perceptions.
  • Because sometimes I find that I CANNOT AVOID THE HAVING THOSE IDEAS
  • PRODUCED IN MY MIND. For though, when my eyes are shut, or windows fast,
  • I can at pleasure recal to my mind the ideas of light, or the sun, which
  • former sensations had lodged in my memory; so I can at pleasure lay by
  • THAT idea, and take into my view that of the smell of a rose, or taste
  • of sugar. But, if I turn my eyes at noon towards the sun, I cannot avoid
  • the ideas which the light or sun then produces in me. So that there is a
  • manifest difference between the ideas laid up in my memory, (over which,
  • if they were there only, I should have constantly the same power to
  • dispose of them, and lay them by at pleasure,) and those which force
  • themselves upon me, and I cannot avoid having. And therefore it must
  • needs be some exterior cause, and the brisk acting of some objects
  • without me, whose efficacy I cannot resist, that produces those ideas
  • in my mind, whether I will or no. Besides, there is nobody who doth not
  • perceive the difference in himself between contemplating the sun, as
  • he hath the idea of it in his memory, and actually looking upon it: of
  • which two, his perception is so distinct, that few of his ideas are
  • more distinguishable one from another. And therefore he hath certain
  • knowledge that they are not BOTH memory, or the actions of his mind, and
  • fancies only within him; but that actual seeing hath a cause without.
  • 6. III. Thirdly, Because Pleasure or Pain, which accompanies actual
  • Sensation, accompanies not the returning of those Ideas without the
  • external Objects.
  • Add to this, that many of those ideas are PRODUCED IN US WITH PAIN,
  • which afterwards we remember without the least offence. Thus, the pain
  • of heat or cold, when the idea of it is revived in our minds, gives us
  • no disturbance; which, when felt, was very troublesome; and is again,
  • when actually repeated: which is occasioned by the disorder the external
  • object causes in our bodies when applied to them: and we remember the
  • pains of hunger, thirst, or the headache, without any pain at all; which
  • would either never disturb us, or else constantly do it, as often as we
  • thought of it, were there nothing more but ideas floating in our minds,
  • and appearances entertaining our fancies, without the real existence
  • of things affecting us from abroad. The same may be said of PLEASURE,
  • accompanying several actual sensations. And though mathematical
  • demonstration depends not upon sense, yet the examining them by diagrams
  • gives great credit to the evidence of our sight, and seems to give it a
  • certainty approaching to that of demonstration itself. For, it would be
  • very strange, that a man should allow it for an undeniable truth, that
  • two angles of a figure, which he measures by lines and angles of a
  • diagram, should be bigger one than the other, and yet doubt of the
  • existence of those lines and angles, which by looking on he makes use of
  • to measure that by.
  • 7. IV. Fourthly, Because our Senses assist one another's Testimony of
  • the Existence of outward Things, and enable us to predict.
  • Our SENSES in many cases BEAR WITNESS TO THE TRUTH OF EACH OTHER'S
  • REPORT, concerning the existence of sensible things without us. He that
  • SEES a fire, may, if he doubt whether it be anything more than a bare
  • fancy, FEEL it too; and be convinced, by putting his hand in it. Which
  • certainly could never be put into such exquisite pain by a bare idea or
  • phantom, unless that the pain be a fancy too: which yet he cannot, when
  • the burn is well, by raising the idea of it, bring upon himself again.
  • Thus I see, whilst I write this, I can change the appearance of the
  • paper; and by designing the letters, tell BEFOREHAND what new idea it
  • shall exhibit the very next moment, by barely drawing my pen over it:
  • which will neither appear (let me fancy as much as I will) if my hands
  • stand still; or though I move my pen, if my eyes be shut: nor, when
  • those characters are once made on the paper, can I choose afterwards but
  • see them as they are; that is, have the ideas of such letters as I have
  • made. Whence it is manifest, that they are not barely the sport and play
  • of my own imagination, when I find that the characters that were made at
  • the pleasure of my own thoughts, do not obey them; nor yet cease to be,
  • whenever I shall fancy it, but continue to affect my senses constantly
  • and regularly, according to the figures I made them. To which if we will
  • add, that the sight of those shall from another man, draw such sounds as
  • I beforehand design they shall stand for, there will be little reason
  • left to doubt that those words I write do really exist without me, when
  • they cause a long series of regular sounds to affect my ears, which
  • could not be the effect of my imagination, nor could my memory retain
  • them in that order.
  • 8. This Certainty is as great as our Condition needs.
  • But yet, if after all this any one will be so sceptical as to distrust
  • his senses, and to affirm that all we see and hear, feel and taste,
  • think and do, during our whole being, is but the series and deluding
  • appearances of a long dream, whereof there is no reality; and therefore
  • will question the existence of all things, or our knowledge of anything:
  • I must desire him to consider, that, if all be a dream, then he doth but
  • dream that he makes the question, and so it is not much matter that a
  • waking man should answer him. But yet, if he pleases, he may dream that
  • I make him this answer, That the certainty of things existing in RERUM
  • NATURA when we have the testimony of our senses for it is not only as
  • great as our frame can attain to, but as our condition needs. For,
  • our faculties being suited not to the full extent of being, nor to a
  • perfect, clear, comprehensive knowledge of things free from all doubt
  • and scruple; but to the preservation of us, in whom they are; and
  • accommodated to the use of life: they serve to our purpose well enough,
  • if they will but give us certain notice of those things, which are
  • convenient or inconvenient to us. For he that sees a candle burning, and
  • hath experimented the force of its flame by putting his finger in it,
  • will little doubt that this is something existing without him, which
  • does him harm, and puts him to great pain: which is assurance enough,
  • when no man requires greater certainty to govern his actions by than
  • what is as certain as his actions themselves. And if our dreamer pleases
  • to try whether the glowing heat of a glass furnace be barely a wandering
  • imagination in a drowsy man's fancy, by putting his hand into it, he may
  • perhaps be wakened into a certainty greater than he could wish, that it
  • is something more than bare imagination. So that this evidence is as
  • great as we can desire, being as certain to us as our pleasure or pain,
  • i.e. happiness or misery; beyond which we have no concernment, either of
  • knowing or being. Such an assurance of the existence of things without
  • us is sufficient to direct us in the attaining the good and avoiding the
  • evil which is caused by them, which is the important concernment we have
  • of being made acquainted with them.
  • 9. But reaches no further than actual Sensation.
  • In fine, then, when our senses do actually convey into our
  • understandings any idea, we cannot but be satisfied that there doth
  • something AT THAT TIME really exist without us, which doth affect our
  • senses, and by them give notice of itself to our apprehensive faculties,
  • and actually produce that idea which we then perceive: and we cannot
  • so far distrust their testimony, as to doubt that such COLLECTIONS of
  • simple ideas as we have observed by our senses to be united together, do
  • really exist together. But this knowledge extends as far as the present
  • testimony of our senses, employed about particular objects that do then
  • affect them, and no further. For if I saw such a collection of simple
  • ideas as is wont to be called MAN, existing together one minute since,
  • and am now alone, I cannot be certain that the same man exists now,
  • since there is no NECESSARY CONNEXION of his existence a minute since
  • with his existence now: by a thousand ways he may cease to be, since I
  • had the testimony of my senses for his existence. And if I cannot be
  • certain that the man I saw last to-day is now in being, I can less be
  • certain that he is so who hath been longer removed from my senses, and I
  • have not seen since yesterday, or since the last year: and much less can
  • I be certain of the existence of men that I never saw. And, therefore,
  • though it be highly probable that millions of men do now exist, yet,
  • whilst I am alone, writing this, I have not that certainty of it which
  • we strictly call knowledge; though the great likelihood of it puts me
  • past doubt, and it be reasonable for me to do several things upon the
  • confidence that there are men (and men also of my acquaintance, with
  • whom I have to do) now in the world: but this is but probability, not
  • knowledge.
  • 10. Folly to expect Demonstration in everything.
  • Whereby yet we may observe how foolish and vain a thing it is for a
  • man of a narrow knowledge, who having reason given him to judge of
  • the different evidence and probability of things, and to be swayed
  • accordingly; how vain, I say, it is to expect demonstration and
  • certainty in things not capable of it; and refuse assent to very
  • rational propositions, and act contrary to very plain and clear truths,
  • because they cannot be made out so evident, as to surmount every the
  • least (I will not say reason, but) pretence of doubting. He that, in
  • the ordinary affairs of life, would admit of nothing but direct plain
  • demonstration, would be sure of nothing in this world, but of perishing
  • quickly. The wholesomeness of his meat or drink would not give him
  • reason to venture on it: and I would fain know what it is he could do
  • upon such grounds as are capable of no doubt, no objection.
  • 11. Past Existence of other things is known by Memory.
  • As WHEN OUR SENSES ARE ACTUALLY EMPLOYED ABOUT ANY OBJECT, we do know
  • that it does exist; so BY OUR MEMORY we may be assured, that heretofore
  • things that affected our senses have existed. And thus we have knowledge
  • of the past existence of several things, whereof our senses having
  • informed us, our memories still retain the ideas; and of this we are
  • past all doubt, so long as we remember well. But this knowledge also
  • reaches no further than our senses have formerly assured us. Thus,
  • seeing water at this instant, it is an unquestionable truth to me that
  • water doth exist: and remembering that I saw it yesterday, it will also
  • be always true, and as long as my memory retains it always an undoubted
  • proposition to me, that water did exist the 10th of July, 1688; as it
  • will also be equally true that a certain number of very fine colours did
  • exist, which at the same time I saw upon a bubble of that water: but,
  • being now quite out of sight both of the water and bubbles too, it is no
  • more certainly known to me that the water doth now exist, than that the
  • bubbles or colours therein do so: it being no more necessary that water
  • should exist to-day, because it existed yesterday, than that the colours
  • or bubbles exist to-day, because they existed yesterday, though it be
  • exceedingly much more probable; because water hath been observed to
  • continue long in existence, but bubbles, and the colours on them,
  • quickly cease to be.
  • 12. The Existence of other finite Spirits not knowable, and rests on
  • Faith.
  • What ideas we have of spirits, and how we come by them, I have already
  • shown. But though we have those ideas in our minds, and know we have
  • them there, the having the ideas of spirits does not make us know that
  • any such things do exist without us, or that there are any finite
  • spirits, or any other spiritual beings, but the Eternal God. We have
  • ground from revelation, and several other reasons, to believe with
  • assurance that there are such creatures: but our senses not being
  • able to discover them, we want the means of knowing their particular
  • existences. For we can no more know that there are finite spirits really
  • existing, by the idea we have of such beings in our minds, than by the
  • ideas any one has of fairies or centaurs, he can come to know that
  • things answering those ideas do really exist.
  • And therefore concerning the existence of finite spirits, as well as
  • several other things, we must content ourselves with the evidence of
  • faith; but universal, certain propositions concerning this matter
  • are beyond our reach. For however true it may be, v.g., that all the
  • intelligent spirits that God ever created do still exist, yet it
  • can never make a part of our certain knowledge. These and the like
  • propositions we may assent to, as highly probable, but are not, I fear,
  • in this state capable of knowing. We are not, then, to put others upon
  • demonstrating, nor ourselves upon search of universal certainty in all
  • those matters; wherein we are not capable of any other knowledge, but
  • what our senses give us in this or that particular.
  • 13. Only particular Propositions concerning concrete Existances are
  • knowable.
  • By which it appears that there are two sorts of propositions:--(1)
  • There is one sort of propositions concerning the existence of anything
  • answerable to such an idea: as having the idea of an elephant, phoenix,
  • motion, or an angel, in my mind, the first and natural inquiry is,
  • Whether such a thing does anywhere exist? And this knowledge is only of
  • particulars. No existence of anything without us, but only of God, can
  • certainly be known further than our senses inform us, (2) There is
  • another sort of propositions, wherein is expressed the agreement or
  • disagreement of OUR ABSTRACT IDEAS, and their dependence on one another.
  • Such propositions may be universal and certain. So, having the idea of
  • God and myself, of fear and obedience, I cannot but be sure that God is
  • to be feared and obeyed by me: and this proposition will be certain,
  • concerning man in general, if I have made an abstract idea of such a
  • species, whereof I am one particular. But yet this proposition, how
  • certain soever, that 'men ought to fear and obey God' proves not to
  • me the EXISTENCE of MEN in the world; but will be true of all such
  • creatures, whenever they do exist: which certainty of such general
  • propositions depends on the agreement or disagreement to be discovered
  • in those abstract ideas.
  • 14. And all general Propositions that are known to be true concern
  • abstract Ideas.
  • In the former case, our knowledge is the consequence of the existence
  • of things, producing ideas in our minds by our senses: in the latter,
  • knowledge is the consequence of the ideas (be they what they will) that
  • are in our minds, producing there general certain propositions. Many of
  • these are called AETERNAE VERITATES, and all of them indeed are so; not
  • from being written, all or any of them, in the minds of all men; or that
  • they were any of them propositions in any one's mind, till he, having
  • got the abstract ideas, joined or separated them by affirmation or
  • negation. But wheresoever we can suppose such a creature as man is,
  • endowed with such faculties, and thereby furnished with such ideas as we
  • have, we must conclude, he must needs, when he applies his thoughts to
  • the consideration of his ideas, know the truth of certain propositions
  • that will arise from the agreement or disagreement which he will
  • perceive in his own ideas. Such propositions are therefore called
  • ETERNAL TRUTHS, not because they are eternal propositions actually
  • formed, and antecedent to the understanding that at any time makes them;
  • nor because they are imprinted on the mind from any patterns that are
  • anywhere out of the mind, and existed before: but because, being once
  • made about abstract ideas, so as to be true, they will, whenever they
  • can be supposed to be made again at any time, past or come, by a mind
  • having those ideas, always actually be true. For names being supposed
  • to stand perpetually for the same ideas, and the same ideas having
  • immutably the same habitudes one to another, propositions concerning any
  • abstract ideas that are once true must needs be ETERNAL VERITIES.
  • CHAPTER XII. OF THE IMPROVEMENT OF OUR KNOWLEDGE
  • 1. Knowledge is not got from Maxims.
  • IT having been the common received opinion amongst men of letters, that
  • MAXIMS were the foundation of all knowledge; and that the sciences
  • were each of them built upon certain PRAECOGNITA, from whence the
  • understanding was to take its rise, and by which it was to conduct
  • itself in its inquiries into the matters belonging to that science, the
  • beaten road of the Schools has been, to lay down in the beginning one or
  • more GENERAL PROPOSITIONS, as foundations whereon to build the knowledge
  • that was to be had of that subject. These doctrines, thus laid down for
  • foundations of any science, were called PRINCIPLES, as the beginnings
  • from which we must set out, and look no further backwards in our
  • inquiries, as we have already observed.
  • 2. (The Occasion of that Opinion.)
  • One thing which might probably give an occasion to this way of
  • proceeding in other sciences, was (as I suppose) the good success it
  • seemed to have in MATHEMATICS, wherein men, being observed to attain a
  • great certainty of knowledge, these sciences came by pre-eminence to
  • be called [word in Greek], and [word in Greek], learning, or things
  • learned, thoroughly learned, as having of all others the greatest
  • certainty, clearness, and evidence in them.
  • 3. But from comparing clear and distinct Ideas.
  • But if any one will consider, he will (I guess) find, that the great
  • advancement and certainty of real knowledge which men arrived to in
  • these sciences, was not owing to the influence of these principles, nor
  • derived from any peculiar advantage they received from two or three
  • general maxims, laid down in the beginning; but from the clear,
  • distinct, complete ideas their thoughts were employed about, and the
  • relation of equality and excess so clear between some of them, that they
  • had an intuitive knowledge, and by THAT a way to discover it in others;
  • and this without the help of those maxims. For I ask, Is it not possible
  • for a young lad to know that his whole body is bigger than his little
  • finger, but by virtue of this axiom, that THE WHOLE IS BIGGER THAN A
  • PART; nor be assured of it, till he has learned that maxim? Or cannot a
  • country wench know that, having received a shilling from one that owes
  • her three, and a shilling also from another that owes her three, the
  • remaining debts in each of their hands are equal? Cannot she know this,
  • I say, unless she fetch the certainty of it from this maxim, that IF YOU
  • TAKE EQUALS FROM EQUALS, THE REMAINDER WILL BE EQUALS, a maxim which
  • possibly she never heard or thought of? I desire any one to consider,
  • from what has been elsewhere said, which is known first and clearest by
  • most people, the particular instance, or the general rule; and which it
  • is that gives life and birth to the other. These general rules are
  • but the comparing our more general and abstract ideas, which are the
  • workmanship of the mind, made, and names given to them for the easier
  • dispatch in its reasonings, and drawing into comprehensive terms and
  • short rules its various and multiplied observations. But knowledge began
  • in the mind, and was founded on particulars; though afterwards, perhaps,
  • no notice was taken thereof: it being natural for the mind (forward
  • still to enlarge its knowledge) most attentively to lay up those general
  • notions, and make the proper use of them, which is to disburden the
  • memory of the cumbersome load of particulars. For I desire it may be
  • considered, what more certainty there is to a child, or any one, that
  • his body, little finger, and all, is bigger than his little finger
  • alone, after you have given to his body the name WHOLE, and to his
  • little finger the name PART, than he could have had before; or what new
  • knowledge concerning his body can these two relative terms give him,
  • which he could not have without them? Could he not know that his body
  • was bigger than his little finger, if his language were yet so imperfect
  • that he had no such relative terms as whole and part? I ask, further,
  • when he has got these names, how is he more certain that his body is a
  • whole, and his little finger a part, than he was or might be certain
  • before he learnt those terms, that his body was bigger than his little
  • finger? Any one may as reasonably doubt or deny that his little finger
  • is a part of his body, as that it is less than his body. And he that can
  • doubt whether it be less, will as certainly doubt whether it be a part.
  • So that the maxim, the whole is bigger than a part, can never be made
  • use of to prove the little finger less than the body, but when it is
  • useless, by being brought to convince one of a truth which he knows
  • already. For he that does not certainly know that any parcel of matter,
  • with another parcel of matter joined to it, is bigger than either of
  • them alone, will never be able to know it by the help of these two
  • relative terms, whole and part, make of them what maxim you please.
  • 4. Dangerous to build upon precarious Principles.
  • But be it in the mathematics as it will, whether it be clearer, that,
  • taking an inch from a black line of two inches, and an inch from a red
  • line of two inches, the remaining parts of the two lines will be equal,
  • or that IF YOU TAKE EQUALS FROM EQUALS, THE REMAINDER WILL BE EQUALS:
  • which, I say, of these two is the clearer and first known, I leave to
  • any one to determine, it not being material to my present occasion. That
  • which I have here to do, is to inquire, whether, if it be the readiest
  • way to knowledge to begin with general maxims, and build upon them, it
  • be yet a safe way to take the PRINCIPLES which are laid down in any
  • other science as unquestionable truths; and so receive them without
  • examination, and adhere to them, without suffering them to be doubted
  • of, because mathematicians have been so happy, or so fair, to use none
  • but self-evident and undeniable. If this be so, I know not what may not
  • pass for truth in morality, what may not be introduced and proved in
  • natural philosophy.
  • Let that principle of some of the old philosophers, That all is Matter,
  • and that there is nothing else, be received for certain and indubitable,
  • and it will be easy to be seen by the writings of some that have revived
  • it again in our days, what consequences it will lead us into. Let any
  • one, with Polemo, take the world; or with the Stoics, the aether, or
  • the sun; or with Anaximenes, the air, to be God; and what a divinity,
  • religion, and worship must we needs have! Nothing can be so dangerous as
  • PRINCIPLES thus TAKEN UP WITHOUT QUESTIONING OR EXAMINATION; especially
  • if they be such as concern morality, which influence men's lives, and
  • give a bias to all their actions. Who might not justly expect another
  • kind of life in Aristippus, who placed happiness in bodily pleasure; and
  • in Antisthenes, who made virtue sufficient to felicity? And he who, with
  • Plato, shall place beatitude in the knowledge of God, will have his
  • thoughts raised to other contemplations than those who look not beyond
  • this spot of earth, and those perishing things which are to be had in
  • it. He that, with Archelaus, shall lay it down as a principle, that
  • right and wrong, honest and dishonest, are defined only by laws, and not
  • by nature, will have other measures of moral rectitude and gravity, than
  • those who take it for granted that we are under obligations antecedent
  • to all human constitutions.
  • 5. To do so is no certain Way to Truth.
  • If, therefore, those that pass for PRINCIPLES are NOT CERTAIN, (which we
  • must have some way to know, that we may be able to distinguish them
  • from those that are doubtful,) but are only made so to us by our blind
  • assent, we are liable to be misled by them; and instead of being guided
  • into truth, we shall, by principles, be only confirmed in mistake and
  • error.
  • 6. But to compare clear, complete Ideas, under steady Names.
  • But since the knowledge of the certainty of principles, as well as
  • of all other truths, depends only upon the perception we have of the
  • agreement or disagreement of our ideas, the way to improve our knowledge
  • is not, I am sure, blindly, and with an implicit faith, to receive and
  • swallow principles; but is, I think, to get and fix in our minds clear,
  • distinct, and complete ideas, as far as they are to be had, and annex
  • to them proper and constant names. And thus, perhaps, without any other
  • principles, but BARELY CONSIDERING THOSE PERFECT IDEAS, and by COMPARING
  • THEM ONE WITH ANOTHER; finding their agreement and disagreement, and
  • their several relations and habitudes; we shall get more true and clear
  • knowledge by the conduct of this one rule, than by taking up principles,
  • and thereby putting our minds into the disposal of others.
  • 7. The true Method of advancing Knowledge is by considering our abstract
  • Ideas.
  • We must, therefore, if we will proceed as reason advises, adapt our
  • methods of inquiry to THE NATURE OF THE IDEAS WE EXAMINE, and the truth
  • we search after. General and certain truths are only founded in the
  • habitudes and relations of ABSTRACT IDEAS. A sagacious and methodical
  • application of our thoughts, for the finding out these relations, is
  • the only way to discover all that can be put with truth and certainty
  • concerning them into general propositions. By what steps we are to
  • proceed in these, is to be learned in the schools of the mathematicians,
  • who, from very plain and easy beginnings, by gentle degrees, and
  • a continued chain of reasonings, proceed to the discovery and
  • demonstration of truths that appear at first sight beyond human
  • capacity. The art of finding proofs, and the admirable methods they have
  • invented for the singling out and laying in order those intermediate
  • ideas that demonstratively show the equality or inequality of
  • unapplicable quantities, is that which has carried them so far, and
  • produced such wonderful and unexpected discoveries: but whether
  • something like this, in respect of other ideas, as well as those of
  • magnitude, may not in time be found out, I will not determine. This,
  • I think, I may say, that if other ideas that are the real as well as
  • nominal essences of their species, were pursued in the way familiar to
  • mathematicians, they would carry our thoughts further, and with greater
  • evidence and clearness than possibly we are apt to imagine.
  • 8. By which Morality also may be made clearer.
  • This gave me the confidence to advance that conjecture, which I suggest,
  • (chap. iii.) viz. that MORALITY is capable of demonstration as well as
  • mathematics. For the ideas that ethics are conversant about, being all
  • real essences, and such as I imagine have a discoverable connexion and
  • agreement one with another; so far as we can find their habitudes and
  • relations, so far we shall be possessed of certain, real, and general
  • truths; and I doubt not but, if a right method were taken, a great part
  • of morality might be made out with that clearness, that could leave, to
  • a considering man, no more reason to doubt, than he could have to
  • doubt of the truth of propositions in mathematics, which have been
  • demonstrated to him.
  • 9. Our Knowledge of Substances is to be improved, not by contemplation
  • of abstract ideas, but only by Experience.
  • In our search after the knowledge of SUBSTANCES, our want of ideas that
  • are suitable to such a way of proceeding obliges us to a quite different
  • method. We advance not here, as in the other, (where our abstract ideas
  • are real as well as nominal essences,) by contemplating our ideas, and
  • considering their relations and correspondences; that helps us very
  • little for the reasons, that in another place we have at large set down.
  • By which I think it is evident, that substances afford matter of very
  • little GENERAL knowledge; and the bare contemplation of their abstract
  • ideas will carry us but a very little way in the search of truth and
  • certainty. What, then, are we to do for the improvement of our knowledge
  • in substantial beings? Here we are to take a quite contrary course: the
  • want of ideas of their real essences sends us from our own thoughts to
  • the things themselves as they exist. EXPERIENCE HERE MUST TEACH ME WHAT
  • REASON CANNOT: and it is by TRYING alone, that I can CERTAINLY KNOW,
  • what other qualities co-exist with those of my complex idea, v.g.
  • whether that yellow heavy, fusible body I call gold, be malleable, or
  • no; which experience (which way ever it prove in that particular body I
  • examine) makes me not certain, that it is so in all, or any other
  • yellow, heavy, fusible bodies, but that which I have tried. Because it
  • is no consequence one way or the other from my complex idea: the
  • necessity or inconsistence of malleability hath no visible connexion
  • with the combination of that colour, weight, and fusibility in any body.
  • What I have said here of the nominal essence of gold, supposed to
  • consist of a body of such a determinate colour, weight, and fusibility,
  • will hold true, if malleableness, fixedness, and solubility in aqua
  • regia be added to it. Our reasonings from these ideas will carry us but
  • a little way in the certain discovery of the other properties in those
  • masses of matter wherein all these are to be found. Because the OTHER
  • properties of such bodies, depending not on these, but on that unknown
  • real essence on which these also depend, we cannot by them discover the
  • rest; we can go no further than the simple ideas of our nominal essence
  • will carry us, which is very little beyond themselves; and so afford us
  • but very sparingly any certain, universal, and useful truths. For, upon
  • trial, having found that particular piece (and all others of that
  • colour, weight, and fusibility, that I ever tried) malleable, that also
  • makes now, perhaps, a part of my complex idea, part of my nominal
  • essence of gold: whereby though I make my complex idea to which I affix
  • the name gold, to consist of more simple ideas than before; yet still,
  • it not containing the real essence of any species of bodies, it helps me
  • not certainly to know (I say to know, perhaps it may be to conjecture)
  • the other remaining properties of that body, further than they have a
  • visible connexion with some or all of the simple ideas that make up my
  • nominal essence. For example, I cannot be certain, from this complex
  • idea, whether gold be fixed or no; because, as before, there is no
  • NECESSARY connexion or inconsistence to be discovered betwixt a COMPLEX
  • IDEA OF A BODY YELLOW, HEAVY, FUSIBLE, MALLEABLE; betwixt these, I say,
  • and FIXEDNESS; so that I may certainly know, that in whatsoever body
  • these are found, there fixedness is sure to be. Here, again, for
  • assurance, I must apply myself to experience; as far as that reaches,
  • I may have certain knowledge, but no further.
  • 10. Experience may procure is Convenience, not Science.
  • I deny not but a man, accustomed to rational and regular experiments,
  • shall be able to see further into the nature of bodies, and guess
  • righter at their yet unknown properties, than one that is a stranger to
  • them: but yet, as I have said, this is but judgment and opinion, not
  • knowledge and certainty. This way of GETTING AND IMPROVING OUR KNOWLEDGE
  • IN SUBSTANCES ONLY BY EXPERIENCE AND HISTORY, which is all that the
  • weakness of our faculties in this state of mediocrity which we are in
  • this world can attain to, makes me suspect that NATURAL PHILOSOPHY IS
  • NOT CAPABLE IS BEING MADE A SCIENCE. We are able, I imagine, to reach
  • very little general knowledge concerning the species of bodies, and
  • their several properties. Experiments and historical observations we may
  • have, from which we may draw advantages of ease and health, and thereby
  • increase our stock of conveniences for this life; but beyond this I fear
  • our talents reach not, nor are our faculties, as I guess, able to
  • advance.
  • 11. We are fitted for moral Science, but only for probable
  • interpretations of external Nature.
  • From whence is it obvious to conclude, that, since our faculties are
  • not fitted to penetrate into the internal fabric and real essences of
  • bodies; but yet plainly discover to us the being of a God, and the
  • knowledge of ourselves, enough to lead us into a full and clear
  • discovery of our duty and great concernment; it will become us, as
  • rational creatures, to employ those faculties we have about what they
  • are most adapted to, and follow the direction of nature, where it seems
  • to point us out the way. For it is rational to conclude, that our proper
  • employment lies in those inquiries, and in that sort of knowledge which
  • is most suited to our natural capacities, and carries in it our greatest
  • interest, i.e. the condition of our eternal estate. Hence I think I may
  • conclude, that MORALITY IS THE PROPER SCIENCE AND BUSINESS OF MANKIND IN
  • GENERAL, (who are both concerned and fitted to search out their SUMMUM
  • BONUM;) as several arts, conversant about several parts of nature, are
  • the lot and private talent of particular men, for the common use of
  • human life, and their own particular subsistence in this world. Of what
  • consequence the discovery of one natural body and its properties may
  • be to human life, the whole great continent of America is a convincing
  • instance: whose ignorance in useful arts, and want of the greatest part
  • of the conveniences of life, in a country that abounded with all sorts
  • of natural plenty, I think may be attributed to their ignorance of what
  • was to be found in a very ordinary, despicable stone, I mean the mineral
  • of IRON. And whatever we think of our parts or improvements in this part
  • of the world, where knowledge and plenty seem to vie with each other;
  • yet to any one that will seriously reflect on it, I suppose it will
  • appear past doubt, that, were the use of iron lost among us, we should
  • in a few ages be unavoidably reduced to the wants and ignorance of the
  • ancient savage Americans, whose natural endowments and provisions come
  • no way short of those of the most flourishing and polite nations. So
  • that he who first made known the use of that contemptible mineral, may
  • be truly styled the father of arts, and author of plenty.
  • 12. In the study of Nature we must beware of Hypotheses and wrong
  • Principles.
  • I would not, therefore, be thought to disesteem or dissuade the study of
  • NATURE. I readily agree the contemplation of his works gives us occasion
  • to admire, revere, and glorify their Author: and, if rightly directed,
  • may be of greater benefit to mankind than the monuments of exemplary
  • charity that have at so great charge been raised by the founders of
  • hospitals and almshouses. He that first invented printing, discovered
  • the use of the compass, or made public the virtue and right use of KIN
  • KINA, did more for the propagation of knowledge, for the supply and
  • increase of useful commodities, and saved more from the grave than those
  • who built colleges, workhouses, and hospitals. All that I would say
  • is, that we should not be too forwardly possessed with the opinion or
  • expectation of knowledge, where it is not to be had, or by ways that
  • will not attain to it: that we should not take doubtful systems
  • for complete sciences; nor unintelligible notions for scientifical
  • demonstrations. In the knowledge of bodies, we must be content to
  • glean what we can from particular experiments: since we cannot, from a
  • discovery of their real essences, grasp at a time whole sheaves, and in
  • bundles comprehend the nature and properties of whole species together.
  • Where our inquiry is concerning co-existence, or repugnancy to
  • co-exist, which by contemplation of our ideas we cannot discover; there
  • experience, observation, and natural history, must give us, by our
  • senses and by retail, an insight into corporeal substances. The
  • knowledge of BODIES we must get by our senses, warily employed in taking
  • notice of their qualities and operations on one another: and what we
  • hope to know of SEPARATE SPIRITS in this world, we must, I think, expect
  • only from revelation. He that shall consider how little general maxims,
  • precarious principles, and hypotheses laid down at pleasure, have
  • promoted true knowledge, or helped to satisfy the inquiries of rational
  • men after real improvements; how little, I say, the setting out at that
  • end has, for many ages together, advanced men's progress, towards the
  • knowledge of natural philosophy, Will think we have reason to thank
  • those who in this latter age have taken another course, and have trod
  • out to us, though not an easier way to learned ignorance, yet a surer
  • way to profitable knowledge.
  • 13. The true Use of Hypotheses.
  • Not that we may not, to explain any phenomena of nature, make use of any
  • probable hypothesis whatsoever: hypotheses, if they are well made,
  • are at least great helps to the memory, and often direct us to new
  • discoveries. But my meaning is, that we should not take up any one too
  • hastily (which the mind, that would always penetrate into the causes of
  • things, and have principles to rest on, is very apt to do) till we have
  • very well examined particulars, and made several experiments, in that
  • thing which we would explain by our hypothesis, and see whether it will
  • agree to them all; whether our principles will carry us quite through,
  • and not be as inconsistent with one phenomenon of nature, as they seem
  • to accommodate and explain another. And at least that we take care that
  • the name of PRINCIPLES deceive us not, nor impose on us, by making us
  • receive that for an unquestionable truth, which is really at best but a
  • very doubtful conjecture; such as are most (I had almost said all) of
  • the hypotheses in natural philosophy.
  • 14. Clear and distinct Ideas with settled Names, and the finding of
  • those intermediate ideas which show their Agreement or Disagreement, are
  • the Ways to enlarge our Knowledge.
  • But whether natural philosophy be capable of certainty or no, the ways
  • to enlarge our knowledge, as far as we are capable, seems to me, in
  • short, to be these two:--
  • First, The first is to get and settle in our minds [determined ideas of
  • those things whereof we have general or specific names; at least, so
  • many of them as we would consider and improve our knowledge in, or
  • reason about.] [And if they be specific ideas of substances, we should
  • endeavour also to make them as complete as we can, whereby I mean,
  • that we should put together as many simple ideas as, being constantly
  • observed to co-exist, may perfectly determine the species; and each of
  • those simple ideas which are the ingredients of our complex ones, should
  • be clear and distinct in our minds.] For it being evident that our
  • knowledge cannot exceed our ideas; [as far as] they are either
  • imperfect, confused, or obscure, we cannot expect to have certain,
  • perfect, or clear knowledge. Secondly, The other is the art of finding
  • out those intermediate ideas, which may show us the agreement or
  • repugnancy of other ideas, which cannot be immediately compared.
  • 15. Mathematics an instance of this.
  • That these two (and not the relying on maxims, and drawing consequences
  • from some general propositions) are the right methods of improving our
  • knowledge in the ideas of other modes besides those of quantity, the
  • consideration of mathematical knowledge will easily inform us. Where
  • first we shall find that he that has not a perfect and clear idea of
  • those angles or figures of which he desires to know anything, is utterly
  • thereby incapable of any knowledge about them. Suppose but a man not to
  • have a perfect exact idea of a right angle, a scalenum, or trapezium,
  • and there is nothing more certain than that he will in vain seek any
  • demonstration about them. Further, it is evident, that it was not the
  • influence of those maxims which are taken for principles in mathematics,
  • that hath led the masters of that science into those wonderful
  • discoveries they have made. Let a man of good parts know all the maxims
  • generally made use of in mathematics ever so perfectly, and contemplate
  • their extent and consequences as much as he pleases, he will, by their
  • assistance, I suppose, scarce ever come to know that the square of the
  • hypothenuse in a right-angled triangle is equal to the squares of the
  • two other sides. The knowledge that 'the whole is equal to all its
  • parts,' and 'if you take equals from equals, the remainder will be
  • equal,' &c., helped him not, I presume, to this demonstration: and a man
  • may, I think, pore long enough on those axioms, without ever seeing one
  • jot the more of mathematical truths. They have been discovered by the
  • thoughts otherwise applied: the mind had other objects, other views
  • before it, far different from those maxims, when it first got the
  • knowledge of such truths in mathematics, which men, well enough
  • acquainted with those received axioms, but ignorant of their method who
  • first made these demonstrations, can never sufficiently admire. And who
  • knows what methods to enlarge our knowledge in other parts of science
  • may hereafter be invented, answering that of algebra in mathematics,
  • which so readily finds out the ideas of quantities to measure others
  • by; whose equality or proportion we could otherwise very hardly, or,
  • perhaps, never come to know?
  • CHAPTER XIII.
  • SOME FURTHER CONSIDERATIONS CONCERNING OUR KNOWLEDGE.
  • 1. Our Knowledge partly necessary partly voluntary.
  • Our knowledge, as in other things, so in this, has so great a conformity
  • with our sight, that it is neither wholly necessary, nor wholly
  • voluntary. If our knowledge were altogether necessary, all men's
  • knowledge would not only be alike, but every man would know all that is
  • knowable; and if it were wholly voluntary, some men so little regard or
  • value it, that they would have extreme little, or none at all. Men that
  • have senses cannot choose but receive some ideas by them; and if they
  • have memory, they cannot but retain some of them; and if they have
  • any distinguishing faculty, cannot but perceive the agreement or
  • disagreement of some of them one with another; as he that has eyes, if
  • he will open them by day, cannot but see some objects, and perceive a
  • difference in them. But though a man with his eyes open in the light,
  • cannot but see, yet there be certain objects which he may choose whether
  • he will turn his eyes to; there may be in his reach a book containing
  • pictures and discourses, capable to delight or instruct him, which yet
  • he may never have the will to open, never take the pains to look into.
  • 2. The application of our Faculties voluntary; but they being employed,
  • we know as things are, not as we please.
  • There is also another thing in a man's power, and that is, though he
  • turns his eyes sometimes towards an object, yet he may choose whether he
  • will curiously survey it, and with an intent application endeavour to
  • observe accurately all that is visible in it. But yet, what he does see,
  • he cannot see otherwise than he does. It depends not on his will to see
  • that black which appears yellow; nor to persuade himself, that what
  • actually scalds him, feels cold. The earth will not appear painted with
  • flowers, nor the fields covered with verdure, whenever he has a mind to
  • it: in the cold winter, he cannot help seeing it white and hoary, if he
  • will look abroad. Just thus is it with our understanding: all that is
  • voluntary in our knowledge is, the employing or withholding any of our
  • FACULTIES from this or that sort of objects, and a more or less accurate
  • survey of them: but, THEY BEING EMPLOYED, OUR WILL HATH NO POWER TO
  • DETERMINE THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE MIND ONE WAY OR ANOTHER; that is done
  • only by the objects themselves, as far as they are clearly discovered.
  • And therefore, as far as men's senses are conversant about external
  • objects, the mind cannot but receive those ideas which are presented by
  • them, and be informed of the existence of things without: and so far as
  • men's thoughts converse with their own determined ideas, they cannot
  • but in some measure observe the agreement or disagreement that is to be
  • found amongst some of them, which is so far knowledge: and if they have
  • names for those ideas which they have thus considered, they must needs
  • be assured of the truth of those propositions which express that
  • agreement or disagreement they perceive in them, and be undoubtedly
  • convinced of those truths. For what a man sees, he cannot but see; and
  • what he perceives, he cannot but know that he perceives.
  • 3. Instance in Numbers.
  • Thus he that has got the ideas of numbers, and hath taken the pains to
  • compare one, two, and three, to six, cannot choose but know that they
  • are equal: he that hath got the idea of a triangle, and found the ways
  • to measure its angles and their magnitudes, is certain that its three
  • angles are equal to two right ones; and can as little doubt of that, as
  • of this truth, that, It is impossible for the same thing to be, and not
  • to be.
  • 4. Instance in Natural Religion.
  • He also that hath the idea of an intelligent, but frail and weak being,
  • made by and depending on another, who is eternal, omnipotent, perfectly
  • wise and good, will as certainly know that man is to honour, fear, and
  • obey God, as that the sun shines when he sees it. For if he hath but the
  • ideas of two such beings in his mind, and will turn his thoughts that
  • way, and consider them, he will as certainly find that the inferior,
  • finite, and dependent, is under an obligation to obey the supreme and
  • infinite, as he is certain to find that three, four, and seven are less
  • than fifteen; if he will consider and compute those numbers: nor can he
  • be surer in a clear morning that the sun is risen; if he will but open
  • his eyes, and turn them that way. But yet these truths, being ever so
  • certain, ever so clear, he may be ignorant of either, or all of them,
  • who will never take the pains to employ his faculties, as he should, to
  • inform himself about them.
  • CHAPTER XIV. OF JUDGMENT.
  • 1. Our Knowledge being short, we want something else.
  • The understanding faculties being given to man, not barely for
  • speculation, but also for the conduct of his life, man would be at a
  • great loss if he had nothing to direct him but what has the certainty of
  • true knowledge. For that being very short and scanty, as we have seen,
  • he would be often utterly in the dark, and in most of the actions of his
  • life, perfectly at a stand, had he nothing to guide him in the absence
  • of clear and certain knowledge. He that will not eat till he has
  • demonstration that it will nourish him; he that will not stir till he
  • infallibly knows the business he goes about will succeed, will have
  • little else to do but to sit still and perish.
  • 2. What Use to be made of this twilight State.
  • Therefore, as God has set some things in broad daylight; as he has given
  • us some certain knowledge, though limited to a few things in comparison,
  • probably as a taste of what intellectual creatures are capable of to
  • excite in us a desire and endeavour after a better state: so, in the
  • greatest part of our concernments, he has afforded us only the twilight,
  • as I may so say, of probability; suitable, I presume, to that state of
  • mediocrity and probationership he has been pleased to place us in here;
  • wherein, to check our over-confidence and presumption, we might, by
  • every day's experience, be made sensible of our short-sightedness and
  • liableness to error; the sense whereof might be a constant admonition to
  • us, to spend the days of this our pilgrimage with industry and care, in
  • the search and following of that way which might lead us to a state
  • of greater perfection. It being highly rational to think, even were
  • revelation silent in the case, that, as men employ those talents God has
  • given them here, they shall accordingly receive their rewards at the
  • close of the day, when their sun shall set, and night shall put an end
  • to their labours.
  • 3. Judgement or assent to Probability, supplies our want of Knowledge.
  • The faculty which God has given man to supply the want of clear and
  • certain knowledge, in cases where that cannot be had, is JUDGEMENT:
  • whereby the mind takes its ideas to agree or disagree; or, which is
  • the same, any proposition to be true or false, without perceiving a
  • demonstrative evidence in the proofs. The mind sometimes exercises
  • this judgment out of necessity, where demonstrative proofs and
  • certain knowledge are not to be had; and sometimes out of laziness,
  • unskilfulness, or haste, even where demonstrative and certain proofs
  • are to be had. Men often stay not warily to examine the agreement or
  • disagreement of two ideas, which they are desirous or concerned to know;
  • but, either incapable of such attention as is requisite in a long train
  • of gradations, or impatient of delay, lightly cast their eyes on, or
  • wholly pass by the proofs; and so, without making out the demonstration,
  • determine of the agreement or disagreement of two ideas, as it were by a
  • view of them as they are at a distance, and take it to be the one or
  • the other, as seems most likely to them upon such a loose survey. This
  • faculty of the mind, when it is exercised immediately about things, is
  • called JUDGEMENT; when about truths delivered in words, is most commonly
  • called ASSENT or DISSENT: which being the most usual way, wherein the
  • mind has occasion to employ this faculty, I shall, under these terms,
  • treat of it, as feast liable in our language to equivocation.
  • 4. Judgement is the presuming Things to be so, without perceiving it.
  • Thus the mind has two faculties conversant (about truth and falsehood):--
  • First, KNOWLEDGE, whereby it certainly PERCEIVES, and is undoubtedly
  • satisfied of the agreement or disagreement of any ideas.
  • Secondly, JUDGEMENT, which is the putting ideas together, or separating
  • them from one another in the mind, when their certain agreement or
  • disagreement is not perceived, but PRESUMED to be so; which is, as the
  • word imports, taken to be so before it certainly appears. And if it
  • so unites or separates them as in reality things are, it is right
  • judgement.
  • CHAPTER XV. OF PROBABILITY.
  • 1. Probability is the appearance of Agreement upon fallible Proofs.
  • As DEMONSTRATION is the showing the agreement or disagreement of two
  • ideas, by the intervention of one or more proofs, which have a constant,
  • immutable, and visible connexion one with another; so PROBABILITY is
  • nothing but the appearance of such an agreement or disagreement, by the
  • intervention of proofs, whose connexion is not constant and immutable,
  • or at least is not perceived to be so, but is, or appears for the most
  • part to be so, and is enough to induce the mind to judge the proposition
  • to be true or false, rather than the contrary. For example: in the
  • demonstration of it a man perceives the certain, immutable connexion
  • there is of equality between the three angles of a triangle, and those
  • intermediate ones which are made use of to show their equality to two
  • right ones; and so, by an intuitive knowledge of the agreement or
  • disagreement of the intermediate ideas in each step of the progress,
  • the whole series is continued with an evidence, which clearly shows the
  • agreement or disagreement of those three angles in equality to two right
  • ones: and thus he has certain knowledge that it is so. But another
  • man, who never took the pains to observe the demonstration, hearing a
  • mathematician, a man of credit, affirm the three angles of a triangle to
  • be equal to two right ones, assents to it, i.e. receives it for true: in
  • which case the foundation of his assent is the probability of the thing;
  • the proof being such as for the most part carries truth with it: the man
  • on whose testimony he receives it, not being wont to affirm anything
  • contrary to or besides his knowledge, especially in matters of this
  • kind: so that that which causes his assent to this proposition, that the
  • three angles of a triangle are equal to two right ones, that which makes
  • him take these ideas to agree, without knowings them to do so, is the
  • wonted veracity of the speaker in other cases, or his supposed veracity
  • in this.
  • 2. It is to supply our Want of Knowledge.
  • Our knowledge, as has been shown, being very narrow, and we not happy
  • enough to find certain truth in everything which we have occasion to
  • consider; most of the propositions we think, reason, discourse--nay, act
  • upon, are such as we cannot have undoubted knowledge of their truth:
  • yet some of them border so near upon certainty, that we make no act,
  • according to the assent, as resolutely as if they were infallibly
  • demonstrated, and that our knowledge of them was perfect and certain.
  • But there being degrees herein, from the very neighbourhood of certainty
  • and demonstration, quite down to improbability and unlikeness, even to
  • the confines of impossibility; and also degrees of assent from full
  • assurance and confidence, quite down to conjecture, doubt, and distrust:
  • I shall come now, (having, as I think, found out THE BOUNDS OF HUMAN
  • KNOWLEDGE AND CERTAINTY,) in the next place, to consider THE SEVERAL
  • DEGREES AND GROUNDS OF PROBABILITY, AND ASSENT OR FAITH.
  • 3. Being that which makes us presume Things to be true, before we know
  • them to be so.
  • Probability is likeliness to be true, the very notation of the word
  • signifying such a proposition, for which there be arguments or proofs to
  • make it pass, or be received for true. The entertainment the mind gives
  • this sort of propositions is called BELIEF, ASSENT, or OPINION, which is
  • the admitting or receiving any proposition for true, upon arguments or
  • proofs that are found to persuade us to receive it as true, without
  • certain knowledge that it is so. And herein lies the difference between
  • PROBABILITY and CERTAINTY, FAITH, and KNOWLEDGE, that in all the parts
  • of knowledge there is intuition; each immediate idea, each step has its
  • visible and certain connexion: in belief, not so. That which makes me
  • believe, is something extraneous to the thing I believe; something not
  • evidently joined on both sides to, and so not manifestly showing the
  • agreement or disagreement of those ideas that are under consideration.
  • 4. The Grounds of Probability are two: Conformity with our own
  • Experience, or the Testimony of others.
  • Probability then, being to supply the defect of our knowledge, and to
  • guide us where that fails, is always conversant about propositions
  • whereof we have no certainty, but only some inducements to receive them
  • for true. The grounds of it are, in short, these two following:--
  • First, The conformity of anything with our own knowledge, observation,
  • and experience.
  • Secondly, The testimony of others, vouching their observation and
  • experience. In the testimony of others is to be considered: 1. The
  • number. 2. The integrity. 3. The skill of the witnesses. 4. The design
  • of the author, where it is a testimony out of a book cited. 5. The
  • consistency of the parts, and circumstances of the relation. 6. Contrary
  • testimonies.
  • 5. In this, all the Arguments pro and con ought to be examined, before
  • we come to a Judgment.
  • Probability wanting that intuitive evidence which, infallibly determines
  • the understanding and produces certain knowledge, the mind, if it WILL
  • PROCEED RATIONALLY, ought to examine all the grounds of probability, and
  • see how they make more or less for or against any proposition, before
  • it assents to or dissents from it; and, upon a due balancing the whole,
  • reject or receive it, with a more or less firm assent, proportionably to
  • the preponderancy of the greater grounds of probability on one side or
  • the other. For example:--
  • If I myself see a man walk on the ice, it is past probability; it is
  • knowledge. But if another tells me he saw a man in England, in the midst
  • of a sharp winter, walk upon water hardened with cold, this has so great
  • conformity with what is usually observed to happen, that I am disposed
  • by the natures of the thing itself to assent to it; unless some manifest
  • suspicion attend the relation of that matter of fact. But if the same
  • thing be told to one born between the tropics, who never saw nor
  • heard of any such thing before, there the whole probability relies on
  • testimony: and as the relators are more in number, and of more credit,
  • and have no interest to speak contrary to the truth, so that matter
  • of fact is like to find more or less belief. Though to a man whose
  • experience has always been quite contrary, and who has never heard of
  • anything like it, the most untainted credit of a witness will scarce
  • be able to find belief. As it happened to a Dutch ambassador, who
  • entertaining the king of Siam with the particularities of Holland, which
  • he was inquisitive after, amongst other things told him, that the water
  • in his country would sometimes, in cold weather, be so hard, that men
  • walked upon it, and that it would bear an elephant, if he were there. To
  • which the king replied, HITHERTO _I_ HAVE BELIEVED THE STRANGE THINGS
  • YOU HAVE TOLD ME, BECAUSE _I_ LOOK UPON YOU AS A SOBER FAIR MAN, BUT NOW
  • _I_ AM SURE YOU LIE.
  • 6. Probable arguments capable of great Variety.
  • Upon these grounds depends the probability of any proposition: and as
  • the conformity of our knowledge, as the certainty of observations,
  • as the frequency and constancy of experience, and the number and
  • credibility of testimonies do more or less agree or disagree with it, so
  • is any proposition in itself more or less probable. There is another, I
  • confess, which, though by itself it be no true ground of probability,
  • yet is often made use of for one, by which men most commonly regulate
  • their assent, and upon which they pin their faith more than anything
  • else, and that is, THE OPINION OF OTHERS; though there cannot be a more
  • dangerous thing to rely on, nor more likely to mislead one; since there
  • is much more falsehood and error among men, than truth and knowledge.
  • And if the opinions and persuasions of others, whom we know and think
  • well of, be a ground of assent, men have reason to be Heathens in Japan,
  • Mahometans in Turkey, Papists in Spain, Protestants in England, and
  • Lutherans in Sweden. But of this wrong ground of assent I shall have
  • occasion to speak more at large in another place.
  • CHAPTER XVI. OF THE DEGREES OF ASSENT.
  • 1. Our Assent ought to be regulated by the Grounds of Probability.
  • The grounds of probability we have laid down in the foregoing chapter:
  • as they are the foundations on which our ASSENT is built, so are they
  • also the measure whereby its several degrees are, or ought to be
  • regulated: only we are to take notice, that, whatever grounds of
  • probability there may be, they yet operate no further on the mind which
  • searches after truth, and endeavours to judge right, than they appear;
  • at least, in the first judgment or search that the mind makes. I
  • confess, in the opinions men have, and firmly stick to in the world,
  • their assent is not always from an actual view of the reasons that at
  • first prevailed with them: it being in many cases almost impossible, and
  • in most, very hard, even for those who have very admirable memories, to
  • retain all the proofs which, upon a due examination, made them embrace
  • that side of the question. It suffices that they have once with care
  • and fairness sifted the matter as far as they could; and that they have
  • searched into all the particulars, that they could imagine to give any
  • light to the question; and, with the best of their skill, cast up the
  • account upon the whole evidence: and thus, having once found on which
  • side the probability appeared to THEM, after as full and exact an
  • inquiry as they can make, they lay up the conclusion in their memories,
  • as a truth they have discovered; and for the future they remain
  • satisfied with the testimony of their memories, that this is the opinion
  • that, by the proofs they have once seen of it, deserves such a degree of
  • their assent as they afford it.
  • 2. These can not always be actually in View; and then we must content
  • ourselves with the remembrance that we once saw ground for such a Degree
  • of Assent.
  • This is all that the greatest part of men are capable of doing, in
  • regulating their opinions and judgments; unless a man will exact of
  • them, either to retain distinctly in their memories all the proofs
  • concerning any probable truth, and that too, in the same order, and
  • regular deduction of consequences in which they have formerly placed
  • or seen them; which sometimes is enough to fill a large volume on one
  • single question: or else they must require a man, for every opinion that
  • he embraces, every day to examine the proofs: both which are impossible.
  • It is unavoidable, therefore, that the memory be relied on in the case,
  • and that men be persuaded of several opinions, whereof the proofs are
  • not actually in their thoughts; nay, which perhaps they are not able
  • actually to recall. Without this, the greatest part of men must be
  • either very sceptics; or change every moment, and yield themselves up
  • to whoever, having lately studied the question, offers them arguments,
  • which, for want of memory, they are not able presently to answer.
  • 3. The ill consequence of this, if our former Judgments were not rightly
  • made.
  • I cannot but own, that men's sticking to their past judgment, and
  • adhering firmly to conclusions formerly made, is often the cause of
  • great obstinacy in error and mistake. But the fault is not that they
  • rely on their memories for what they have before well judged, but
  • because they judged before they had well examined. May we not find a
  • great number (not to say the greatest part) of men that think they have
  • formed right judgments of several matters; and that for no other reason,
  • but because they never thought otherwise? that themselves to have judged
  • right, only because they never questioned, never examined, their own
  • opinions? Which is indeed to think they judged right, because they never
  • judged at all. And yet these, of all men, hold their opinions with the
  • greatest stiffness; those being generally the most fierce and firm in
  • their tenets, who have least examined them. What we once KNOW, we are
  • certain is so: and we may be secure, that there are no latent proofs
  • undiscovered, which may overturn our knowledge, or bring it in doubt.
  • But, in matters of PROBABILITY, it is not in every case we can be sure
  • that we have all the particulars before us, that any way concern the
  • question; and that there is no evidence behind, and yet unseen, which
  • may cast the probability on the other side, and outweigh all that at
  • present seems to preponderate with us. Who almost is there that hath
  • the leisure, patience, and means to collect together all the proofs
  • concerning most of the opinions he has, so as safely to conclude that he
  • hath a clear and full view; and that there is no more to be alleged for
  • his better information? And yet we are forced to determine ourselves on
  • the one side or other. The conduct of our lives, and the management of
  • our great concerns, will not bear delay: for those depend, for the most
  • part, on the determination of our judgment in points wherein we are
  • not capable of certain and demonstrative knowledge, and wherein it is
  • necessary for us to embrace the one side or the other.
  • 4. The right Use of it, mutual Charity and Forbearance, in a necessary
  • diversity of opinions.
  • Since, therefore, it is unavoidable to the greatest part of men, if not
  • all, to have several OPINIONS, without certain and indubitable proofs
  • of their truth; and it carries too great an imputation of ignorance,
  • lightness, or folly for men to quit and renounce their former tenets
  • presently upon the offer of an argument which they cannot immediately
  • answer, and show the insufficiency of: it would, methinks, become
  • all men to maintain peace, and the common offices of humanity, and
  • friendship, in the diversity of opinions; since we cannot reasonably
  • expect that any one should readily and obsequiously quit his own
  • opinion, and embrace ours, with a blind resignation to an authority
  • which the understanding of man acknowledges not. For however it may
  • often mistake, it can own no other guide but reason, nor blindly submit
  • to the will and dictates of another. If he you would bring over to your
  • sentiments be one that examines before he assents, you must give him
  • leave at his leisure to go over the account again, and, recalling what
  • is out of his mind, examine all the particulars, to see on which side
  • the advantage lies: and if he will not think our arguments of weight
  • enough to engage him anew in so much pains, it is but what we often do
  • ourselves in the like case; and we should take it amiss if others should
  • prescribe to us what points we should study. And if he be one who takes
  • his opinions upon trust, how can we imagine that he should renounce
  • those tenets which time and custom have so settled in his mind, that he
  • thinks them self-evident, and of an unquestionably certainty; or which
  • he takes to be impressions he has received from God himself, or from men
  • sent by him? How can we expect, I say, that opinions thus settled should
  • be given up to the arguments or authority of a stranger or adversary,
  • especially if there be any suspicion of interest or design, as there
  • never fails to be, where men find themselves ill-trusted? We should do
  • well to commiserate our mutual ignorance, and endeavour to remove it in
  • all the gentle and fair ways of information; and not instantly treat
  • others ill, as obstinate and perverse, because they will not renounce
  • their own, and receive our opinions, or at least those we would force
  • upon them, when it is more than probable that we are no less obstinate
  • in not embracing some of theirs. For where is the man that has
  • incontestable evidence of the truth of all that he holds, or of the
  • falsehood of all he condemns; or can say that he has examined to the
  • bottom all his own, or other men's opinions? The necessity of believing
  • without knowledge, nay often upon very slight grounds, in this fleeting
  • state of action and blindness we are in, should make us more busy and
  • careful to inform ourselves than constrain others. At least, those who
  • have not thoroughly examined to the bottom all their own tenets, must
  • confess they are unfit to prescribe to others; and are unreasonable in
  • imposing that as truth on other men's belief, which they themselves have
  • not searched into, nor weighed the arguments of probability, on which
  • they should receive or reject it. Those who have fairly and truly
  • examined, and are thereby got past doubt in all the doctrines they
  • profess and govern themselves by, would have a juster pretence to
  • require others to follow them: but these are so few in number, and find
  • so little reason to be magisterial in their opinions, that nothing
  • insolent and imperious is to be expected from them: and there is reason
  • to think, that, if men were better instructed themselves, they would be
  • less imposing on others.
  • 5. Probability is either of sensible Matter of Fact, capable of human
  • testimony, or of what is beyond the evidence of our senses.
  • But to return to the grounds of assent, and the several degrees of it,
  • we are to take notice, that the propositions we receive upon inducements
  • of PROBABILITY are of TWO SORTS: either concerning some particular
  • existance, or, as it is usually termed, matter of fact, which, falling
  • under observation, is capable of human testimony; or else concerning
  • things, which being beyond the discovery of our senses, are not capable
  • of any such testimony.
  • 6. Concerning the FIRST of these, viz. PARTICULAR MATTER OF FACT.
  • I. The concurrent Experience of ALL other Men with ours, produces
  • Assurance approaching to Knowledge.
  • Where any particular thing, consonant to the constant observation of
  • ourselves and others in the like case, comes attested by the concurrent
  • reports of all that mention it, we receive it as easily, and build as
  • firmly upon it, as if it were certain knowledge; and we reason and act
  • thereupon with as little doubt as if it were perfect demonstration.
  • Thus, if all Englishmen, who have occasion to mention it, should affirm
  • that it froze in England the last winter, or that there were swallows
  • seen there in the summer, I think a man could almost as little doubt of
  • it as that seven and four are eleven. The first, therefore, and HIGHEST
  • DEGREE OF PROBABILITY, is, when the general consent of all men, in all
  • ages, as far as it can be known, concurs with a man's constant and
  • never-failing experience in like cases, to confirm the truth of any
  • particular matter of fact attested by fair witnesses: such are all
  • the stated constitutions and properties of bodies, and the regular
  • proceedings of causes and effects in the ordinary course of nature. This
  • we call an argument from the nature of things themselves. For what our
  • own and other men's CONSTANT OBSERVATION has found always to be after
  • the same manner, that we with reason conclude to be the effect of
  • steady and regular causes; though they come not within the reach of our
  • knowledge. Thus, That fire warmed a man, made lead fluid, and changed
  • the colour or consistency in wood or charcoal; that iron sunk in
  • water, and swam in quicksilver: these and the like propositions about
  • particular facts, being agreeable to our constant experience, as often
  • as we have to do with these matters; and being generally spoke of (when
  • mentioned by others) as things found constantly to be so, and therefore
  • not so much as controverted by anybody--we are put past doubt that a
  • relation affirming any such thing to have been, or any predication
  • that it will happen again in the same manner, is very true. These
  • PROBABILITIES rise so near to CERTAINTY, that they govern our thoughts
  • as absolutely, and influence all our actions as fully, as the most
  • evident demonstration; and in what concerns us we make little or
  • no difference between them and certain knowledge. Our belief, thus
  • grounded, rises to ASSURANCE.
  • 7. II. Unquestionable Testimony, and our own Experience that a thing is
  • for the most part so, produce Confidence.
  • The NEXT DEGREE OF PROBABILITY is, when I find by my own experience, and
  • the agreement of all others that mention it, a thing to be for the most
  • part so, and that the particular instance of it is attested by many and
  • undoubted witnesses: v.g. history giving us such an account of men in
  • all ages, and my own experience, as far as I had an opportunity to
  • observe, confirming it, that most men prefer their private advantage to
  • the public: if all historians that write of Tiberius, say that Tiberius
  • did so, it is extremely probable. And in this case, our assent has a
  • sufficient foundation to raise itself to a degree which we may call
  • CONFIDENCE.
  • 8. III. Fair Testimony, and the Nature of the Thing indifferent, produce
  • unavoidable Assent.
  • In things that happen indifferently, as that a bird should fly this or
  • that way; that it should thunder on a man's right or left hand, &c.,
  • when any particular matter of fact is vouched by the concurrent
  • testimony of unsuspected witnesses, there our assent is also
  • UNAVOIDABLE. Thus: that there is such a city in Italy as Rome: that
  • about one thousand seven hundred years ago, there lived in it a man,
  • called Julius Caesar; that he was a general, and that he won a battle
  • against another, called Pompey. This, though in the nature of the thing
  • there be nothing for nor against it, yet being related by historians of
  • credit, and contradicted by no one writer, a man cannot avoid believing
  • it, and can as little doubt of it as he does of the being and actions of
  • his own acquaintance, whereof he himself is a witness.
  • 9. Experience and Testimonies clashing, infinitely vary the Degrees of
  • Probability.
  • Thus far the matter goes easy enough. Probability upon such grounds
  • carries so much evidence with it, that it naturally determines the
  • judgment, and leaves us as little liberty to believe or disbelieve, as a
  • demonstration does, whether we will know, or be ignorant. The difficulty
  • is, when testimonies contradict common experience, and the reports of
  • history and witnesses clash with the ordinary course of nature, or with
  • one another; there it is, where diligence, attention, and exactness are
  • required, to form a right judgment, and to proportion the assent to the
  • different evidence and probability of the thing: which rises and
  • falls, according as those two foundations of credibility, viz. COMMON
  • OBSERVATION IN LIKE CASES, and PARTICULAR TESTIMONIES IN THAT PARTICULAR
  • INSTANCE, favour or contradict it. These are liable to so great
  • variety of contrary observations, circumstances, reports, different
  • qualifications, tempers, designs, oversights, &c., of the reporters,
  • that it is impossible to reduce to precise rules the various degrees
  • wherein men give their assent. This only may be said in general, That
  • as the arguments and proofs PRO and CON, upon due examination, nicely
  • weighing every particular circumstance, shall to any one appear, upon
  • the whole matter, in a greater or less degree to preponderate on
  • either side; so they are fitted to produce in the mind such different
  • entertainments, as we call BELIEF, CONJECTURE, GUESS, DOUBT, WAVERING,
  • DISTRUST, DISBELIEF, &c.
  • 10. Traditional Testimonies, the further removed the less their Proof
  • becomes.
  • This is what concerns assent in matters wherein testimony is made use
  • of: concerning which, I think, it may not be amiss to take notice of a
  • rule observed in the law of England; which is, That though the attested
  • copy of a record be good proof, yet the copy of a copy, ever so well
  • attested, and by ever so credible witnesses, will not be admitted as a
  • proof in judicature. This is so generally approved as reasonable,
  • and suited to the wisdom and caution to be used in our inquiry after
  • material truths, that I never yet heard of any one that blamed it.
  • This practice, if it be allowable in the decisions of right and wrong,
  • carries this observation along with it, viz. THAT ANY TESTIMONY, THE
  • FURTHER OFF IT IS FROM THE ORIGINAL TRUTH, THE LESS FORCE AND PROOF IT
  • HAS. The being and existence of the thing itself, is what I call the
  • original truth. A credible man vouching his knowledge of it is a good
  • proof; but if another equally credible do witness it from his report,
  • the testimony is weaker: and a third that attests the hearsay of an
  • hearsay is yet less considerable. So that in traditional truths, each
  • remove weakens the force of the proof: and the more hands the tradition
  • has successively passed through, the less strength and evidence does
  • it receive from them. This I thought necessary to be taken notice of:
  • because I find amongst some men the quite contrary commonly practised,
  • who look on opinions to gain force by growing older; and what a thousand
  • years since would not, to a rational man contemporary with the first
  • voucher, have appeared at all probable, is now urged as certain beyond
  • all question, only because several have since, from him, said it one
  • after another. Upon this ground propositions, evidently false or
  • doubtful enough in their first beginning, come, by an inverted rule of
  • probability, to pass for authentic truths; and those which found or
  • deserved little credit from the mouths of their first authors, are
  • thought to grow venerable by age, are urged as undeniable.
  • 11. Yet History is of great Use.
  • I would not be thought here to lessen the credit and use of HISTORY: it
  • is all the light we have in many cases, and we receive from it a great
  • part of the useful truths we have, with a convincing evidence. I think
  • nothing more valuable than the records of antiquity: I wish we had more
  • of them, and more uncorrupted. But this truth itself forces me to say,
  • That no probability can rise higher than its first original. What has no
  • other evidence than the single testimony of one only witness must stand
  • or fall by his only testimony, whether good, bad, or indifferent; and
  • though cited afterwards by hundreds of others, one after another, is so
  • far from receiving any strength thereby, that it is only the weaker.
  • Passion, interest, inadvertency, mistake of his meaning, and a thousand
  • odd reasons, or capricios, men's minds are acted by, (impossible to
  • be discovered,) may make one man quote another man's words or meaning
  • wrong. He that has but ever so little examined the citations of writers,
  • cannot doubt how little credit the quotations deserve, where the
  • originals are wanting; and consequently how much less quotations of
  • quotations can be relied on. This is certain, that what in one age was
  • affirmed upon slight grounds, can never after come to be more valid in
  • future ages by being often repeated. But the further still it is from
  • the original, the less valid it is, and has always less force in the
  • mouth or writing of him that last made use of it than in his from whom
  • he received it.
  • 12. Secondly, In things which Sense cannot discover, Analogy is the
  • great Rule of Probability.
  • [SECONDLY], The probabilities we have hitherto mentioned are only such
  • as concern matter of fact, and such things as are capable of observation
  • and testimony. There remains that other sort, concerning which men
  • entertain opinions with variety of assent, though THE THINGS BE SUCH,
  • THAT FALLING NOT UNDER THE REACH OF OUR SENSES, THEY ARE NOT CAPABLE OF
  • TESTIMONY. Such are, 1. The existence, nature and operations of finite
  • immaterial beings without us; as spirits, angels, devils, &c. Or the
  • existence of material beings which, either for their smallness in
  • themselves or remoteness from us, our senses cannot take notice of--as,
  • whether there be any plants, animals, and intelligent inhabitants in
  • the planets, and other mansions of the vast universe. 2. Concerning
  • the manner of operation in most parts of the works of nature: wherein,
  • though we see the sensible effects, yet their causes are unknown, and we
  • perceive not the ways and manner how they are produced. We see animals
  • are generated, nourished, and move; the loadstone draws iron; and the
  • parts of a candle, successively melting, turn into flame, and give us
  • both light and heat. These and the like effects we see and know: but the
  • causes that operate, and the manner they are produced in, we can only
  • guess and probably conjecture. For these and the like, coming not within
  • the scrutiny of human senses, cannot be examined by them, or be attested
  • by anybody; and therefore can appear more or less probable, only as they
  • more or less agree to truths that are established in our minds, and as
  • they hold proportion to other parts of our knowledge and observation.
  • ANALOGY in these matters is the only help we have, and it is from that
  • alone we draw all our grounds of probability. Thus, observing that the
  • bare rubbing of two bodies violently one upon another, produces heat,
  • and very often fire itself, we have reason to think, that what we call
  • HEAT and FIRE consists in a violent agitation of the imperceptible
  • minute parts of the burning matter. Observing likewise that the
  • different refractions of pellucid bodies produce in our eyes the
  • different appearances of several colours; and also, that the different
  • ranging and laying the superficial parts of several bodies, as of
  • velvet, watered silk, &c., does the like, we think it probable that
  • the COLOUR and shining of bodies is in them nothing but the different
  • arrangement and refraction of their minute and insensible parts. Thus,
  • finding in all parts of the creation, that fall under human observation,
  • that there is A GRADUAL CONNEXION OF ONE WITH ANOTHER, WITHOUT ANY GREAT
  • OR DISCERNIBLE GAPS BETWEEN, IN ALL THAT GREAT VARIETY OF THINGS WE SEE
  • IN THE WORLD, which are so closely linked together, that, in the several
  • ranks of beings, it is not easy to discover the bounds betwixt them; we
  • have reason to be persuaded that, BY SUCH GENTLE STEPS, things ascend
  • upwards in degrees of perfection. It is a hard matter to say where
  • sensible and rational begin, and where insensible and irrational end:
  • and who is there quick-sighted enough to determine precisely which is
  • the lowest species of living things, and which the first of those which
  • have no life? Things, as far as we can observe, lessen and augment, as
  • the quantity does in a regular cone; where, though there be a manifest
  • odds betwixt the bigness of the diameter at a remote distance, yet the
  • difference between the upper and under, where they touch one another, is
  • hardly discernible. The difference is exceeding great between some men
  • and some animals: but if we will compare the understanding and abilities
  • of some men and some brutes, we shall find so little difference, that it
  • will be hard to say, that that of the man is either clearer or larger.
  • Observing, I say, such gradual and gentle descents downwards in those
  • parts of the creation that are beneath man, the rule of analogy may make
  • it probable, that it is so also in things above us and our observation;
  • and that there are several ranks of intelligent beings, excelling us in
  • several degrees of perfection, ascending upwards towards the infinite
  • perfection of the Creator, by gentle steps and differences, that are
  • every one at no great distance from the next to it. This sort of
  • probability, which is the best conduct of rational experiments, and the
  • rise of hypothesis, has also its use and influence; and a wary reasoning
  • from analogy leads us often into the discovery of truths and useful
  • productions, which would otherwise lie concealed.
  • 13. One Case where contrary Experience lessens not the Testimony.
  • Though the common experience and the ordinary course of things have
  • justly a mighty influence on the minds of men, to make them give or
  • refuse credit to anything proposed to their belief; yet there is one
  • case, wherein the strangeness of the fact lessens not the assent to
  • a fair testimony given of it. For where such supernatural events are
  • suitable to ends aimed at by Him who has the power to change the course
  • of nature, there, UNDER SUCH CIRCUMSTANCES, that may be the fitter to
  • procure belief, by how much the more they are beyond or contrary to
  • ordinary observation. This is the proper case of MIRACLES, which, well
  • attested, do not only find credit themselves, but give it also to other
  • truths, which need such confirmation.
  • 14. The bare Testimony of Divine Revelation is the highest Certainty.
  • Besides those we have hitherto mentioned, there is one sort of
  • propositions that challenge the highest degree of our assent, upon bare
  • testimony, whether the thing proposed agree or disagree with common
  • experience, and the ordinary course of things, or no. The reason whereof
  • is, because the testimony is of such an one as cannot deceive nor be
  • deceived: and that is of God himself. This carries with it an assurance
  • beyond doubt, evidence beyond exception. This is called by a peculiar
  • name, REVELATION, and our assent to it, FAITH, which [as absolutely
  • determines our minds, and as perfectly excludes all wavering,] as our
  • knowledge itself; and we may as well doubt of our own being, as we can
  • whether any revelation from God be true. So that faith is a settled and
  • sure principle of assent and assurance, and leaves no manner of room
  • for doubt or hesitation. ONLY WE MUST BE SURE THAT IT BE A DIVINE
  • REVELATION, AND THAT WE UNDERSTAND IT RIGHT: else we shall expose
  • ourselves to all the extravagancy of enthusiasm, and all the error of
  • wrong principles, if we have faith and assurance in what is not DIVINE
  • revelation. And therefore, in those cases, our assent can be rationally
  • no higher than the evidence of its being a revelation, and that this is
  • the meaning of the expressions it is delivered in. If the evidence of
  • its being a revelation, or that this is its true sense, be only on
  • probable proofs, our assent can reach no higher than an assurance or
  • diffidence, arising from the more or less apparent probability of the
  • proofs. But of FAITH, and the precedency it ought to have before other
  • arguments of persuasion, I shall speak more hereafter; where I treat of
  • it as it is ordinarily placed, in contradistinction to reason; though in
  • truth it be nothing else but AN ASSENT FOUNDED ON THE HIGHEST REASON.
  • CHAPTER XVII. OF REASON
  • 1. Various Significations of the word Reason.
  • THE word REASON in the English language has different significations:
  • sometimes it is taken for true and clear principles: sometimes for clear
  • and fair deductions from those principles: and sometimes for the cause,
  • and particularly the final cause. But the consideration I shall have of
  • it here is in a signification different from all these; and that is, as
  • it stands for a faculty in man, that faculty whereby man is supposed
  • to be distinguished from beasts, and wherein it is evident he much
  • surpasses them.
  • 2. Wherein Reasoning consists.
  • If general knowledge, as has been shown, consists in a perception of the
  • agreement or disagreement of our own ideas, and the knowledge of
  • the existence of all things without us (except only of a God, whose
  • existence every man may certainly know and demonstrate to himself from
  • his own existence), be had only by our senses, what room is there
  • for the exercise of any other faculty, but OUTWARD SENSE and INWARD
  • PERCEPTION? What need is there of REASON? Very much: both for the
  • enlargement of our knowledge, and regulating our assent. For it hath to
  • do both in knowledge and opinion, and is necessary and assisting to all
  • our other intellectual faculties, and indeed contains two of them, viz.
  • SAGACITY and ILLATION. By the one, it finds out; and by the other, it so
  • orders the intermediate ideas as to discover what connexion there is
  • in each link of the chain, whereby the extremes are held together; and
  • thereby, as it were, to draw into view the truth sought for, which is
  • that which we call ILLATION or INFERENCE, and consists in nothing but
  • the perception of the connexion there is between the ideas, in each step
  • of the deduction; whereby the mind comes to see, either the certain
  • agreement or disagreement of any two ideas, as in demonstration, in
  • which it arrives at KNOWLEDGE; or their probable connexion, on which it
  • gives or withholds its assent, as in OPINION. Sense and intuition reach
  • but a very little way. The greatest part of our knowledge depends upon
  • deductions and intermediate ideas: and in those cases where we are fain
  • to substitute assent instead of knowledge, and take propositions for
  • true, without being certain they are so, we have need to find out,
  • examine, and compare the grounds of their probability. In both these
  • cases, the faculty which finds out the means, and rightly applies them,
  • to discover certainty in the one, and probability in the other, is
  • that which we call REASON. For, as reason perceives the necessary and
  • indubitable connexion of all the ideas or proofs one to another, in
  • each step of any demonstration that produces knowledge; so it likewise
  • perceives the probable connexion of all the ideas or proofs one to
  • another, in every step of a discourse, to which it will think assent
  • due. This is the lowest degree of that which can be truly called reason.
  • For where the mind does not perceive this probable connexion, where it
  • does not discern whether there be any such connexion or no; there men's
  • opinions are not the product of judgment, or the consequence of reason,
  • but the effects of chance and hazard, of a mind floating at all
  • adventures, without choice and without direction.
  • 3. Reason in its four degrees.
  • So that we may in REASON consider these FOUR DEGREES: the first and
  • highest is the discovering and finding out of truths; the second, the
  • regular and methodical disposition of them, and laying them in a clear
  • and fit order, to make their connexion and force be plainly and easily
  • perceived; the third is the perceiving their connexion; and the fourth,
  • a making a right conclusion. These several degrees may be observed in
  • any mathematical demonstration; it being one thing to perceive the
  • connexion of each part, as the demonstration is made by another; another
  • to perceive the dependence of the conclusion on all the parts; a third,
  • to make out a demonstration clearly and neatly one's self; and something
  • different from all these, to have first found out these intermediate
  • ideas or proofs by which it is made.
  • 4. Whether Syllogism is the great Instrument of Reason.
  • There is one thing more which I shall desire to be considered concerning
  • reason; and that is, whether SYLLOGISM, as is generally thought, be
  • the proper instrument of it, and the usefullest way of exercising this
  • faculty. The causes I have to doubt are these:--
  • First Cause to doubt this.
  • FIRST, Because syllogism serves our reason but in one only of the
  • forementioned parts of it; and that is, to show the CONNEXION OF THE
  • PROOFS in any one instance, and no more; but in this it is of no great
  • use, since the mind can perceive such connexion, where it really is, as
  • easily, nay, perhaps better, without it.
  • Men can reason well who cannot make a Syllogism.
  • If we will observe the actings of our own minds, we shall find that we
  • reason best and clearest, when we only observe the connexion of the
  • proof, without reducing our thoughts to any rule of syllogism. And
  • therefore we may take notice, that there are many men that reason
  • exceeding clear and rightly, who know not how to make a syllogism. He
  • that will look into many parts of Asia and America, will find men reason
  • there perhaps as acutely as himself, who yet never heard of a syllogism,
  • nor can reduce any one argument to those forms: [and I believe scarce
  • any one makes syllogisms in reasoning within himself.] Indeed syllogism
  • is made use of, on occasion, to discover a fallacy hid in a rhetorical
  • flourish, or cunningly wrapt up in a smooth period; and, stripping an
  • absurdity of the cover of wit and good language, show it in its naked
  • deformity. But the mind is not taught to reason by these rules; it has a
  • native faculty to perceive the coherence or incoherence of its ideas,
  • and can range them right without any such perplexing repetitions. Tell
  • a country gentlewoman that the wind is south-west, and the weather
  • lowering, and like to rain, and she will easily understand it is not
  • safe for her to go abroad thin clad in such a day, after a fever: she
  • clearly sees the probable connexion of all these, viz. south-west wind,
  • and clouds, rain, wetting, taking cold, relapse, and danger of death,
  • without tying them together in those artificial and cumbersome fetters
  • of several syllogisms, that clog and hinder the mind, which proceeds
  • from one part to another quicker and clearer without them: and the
  • probability which she easily perceives in things thus in their native
  • state would be quite lost, if this argument were managed learnedly, and
  • proposed in MODE and FIGURE. For it very often confounds the connexion;
  • and, I think, every one will perceive in mathematical demonstrations,
  • that the knowledge gained thereby comes shortest and clearest without
  • syllogism.
  • Secondly, Because though syllogism serves to show the force or fallacy
  • of an argument, made use of in the usual way of discoursing, BY
  • SUPPLYING THE ABSENT PROPOSITION, and so, setting it before the view
  • in a clear light; yet it no less engages the mind in the perplexity of
  • obscure, equivocal, and fallacious terms, wherewith this artificial way
  • of reasoning always abounds: it being adapted more to the attaining of
  • victory in dispute than the discovery and confirmation of truth in fair
  • enquiries.
  • 5. Syllogism helps little in Demonstration, less in Probability.
  • But however it be in knowledge, I think I may truly say, it is OF FAR
  • LESS, OR NO USE AT ALL IN PROBABILITIES. For the assent there being
  • to be determined by the preponderancy, after due weighing of all the
  • proofs, with all circumstances on both sides, nothing is so unfit to
  • assist the mind in that as syllogism; which running away with one
  • assumed probability, or one topical argument, pursues that till it has
  • led the mind quite out of sight of the thing under consideration; and,
  • forcing it upon some remote difficulty, holds it fast there; entangled
  • perhaps, and, as it were, manacled, in the chain of syllogisms, without
  • allowing it the liberty, much less affording it the helps, requisite to
  • show on which side, all things considered, is the greater probability.
  • 6. Serves not to increase our Knowledge, but to fence with the Knowledge
  • we suppose we have.
  • But let it help us (as perhaps may be said) in convincing men of their
  • errors and mistakes: (and yet I would fain see the man that was forced
  • out of his opinion by dint of syllogism,) yet still it fails our reason
  • in that part, which, if not its highest perfection, is yet certainly its
  • hardest task, and that which we most need its help in; and that is
  • THE FINDING OUT OF PROOFS, AND MAKING NEW DISCOVERIES. The rules of
  • syllogism serve not to furnish the mind with those intermediate ideas
  • that may show the connexion of remote ones. This way of reasoning
  • discovers no new proofs, but is the art of marshalling and ranging the
  • old ones we have already. The forty-seventh proposition of the first
  • book of Euclid is very true; but the discovery of it, I think, not owing
  • to any rules of common logic. A man knows first and then he is able to
  • prove syllogistically. So that syllogism comes after knowledge, and then
  • a man has little or no need of it. But it is chiefly by the finding out
  • those ideas that show the connexion of distant ones, that our stock of
  • knowledge is increased, and that useful arts and sciences are advanced.
  • Syllogism, at best, is but the art of fencing with the little knowledge
  • we have, without making any addition to it. And if a man should employ
  • his reason all this way, he will not do much otherwise than he who,
  • having got some iron out of the bowels of the earth, should have it
  • beaten up all into swords, and put it into his servants' hands to fence
  • with and bang one another. Had the King of Spain employed the hands of
  • his people, and his Spanish iron so, he had brought to light but little
  • of that treasure that lay so long hid in the dark entrails of America.
  • And I am apt to think that he who shall employ all the force of his
  • reason only in brandishing of syllogisms, will discover very little of
  • that mass of knowledge which lies yet concealed in the secret recesses
  • of nature; and which, I am apt to think, native rustic reason (as it
  • formerly has done) is likelier to open a way to, and add to the common
  • stock of mankind, rather than any scholastic proceeding by the strict
  • rules of MODE and FIGURE.
  • 7. Other Helps to reason than Syllogism should be sought.
  • I doubt not, nevertheless, but there are ways to be found to assist
  • our reason in this most useful part; and this the judicious Hooker
  • encourages me to say, who in his Eccl. Pol. 1. i. Section 6, speaks
  • thus: 'If there might be added the right helps of true art and learning,
  • (which helps, I must plainly confess, this age of the world, carrying
  • the name of a learned age, doth neither much know nor generally regard,)
  • there would undoubtedly be almost as much difference in maturity of
  • judgment between men therewith inured, and that which men now are, as
  • between men that are now, and innocents.' I do not pretend to have found
  • or discovered here any of those 'right helps of art,' this great man of
  • deep thought mentions: but that is plain, that syllogism, and the logic
  • now in use, which were as well known in his days, can be none of those
  • he means. It is sufficient for me, if by a Discourse, perhaps something
  • out of the way, I am sure, as to me, wholly new and unborrowed, I shall
  • have given occasion to others to cast about for new discoveries, and
  • to seek in their own thoughts for those right helps of art, which will
  • scarce be found, I fear, by those who servilely confine themselves to
  • the rules and dictates of others. For beaten tracks lead this sort of
  • cattle, (as an observing Roman calls them,) whose thoughts reach only to
  • imitation, NON QUO EUNDUM EST, SED QUO ITUR. But I can be bold to say,
  • that this age is adorned with some men of that strength of judgment and
  • largeness of comprehension, that, if they would employ their thoughts on
  • this subject, could open new and undiscovered ways to the advancement of
  • knowledge.
  • 8. We can reason about Particulars; and the immediate object of all our
  • reasonings is nothing but particular ideas.
  • Having here had occasion to speak of syllogism in general, and the use
  • of it in reasoning, and the improvement of our knowledge, it is fit,
  • before I leave this subject, to take notice of one manifest mistake in
  • the rules of syllogism: viz. that no syllogistical reasoning can be
  • right and conclusive, but what has at least one GENERAL proposition in
  • it. As if we could not reason, and have knowledge about particulars:
  • whereas, in truth, the matter rightly considered, the immediate object
  • of all our reasoning and knowledge, is nothing but particulars. Every
  • man's reasoning and knowledge is only about the ideas existing in his
  • own mind; which are truly, every one of them, particular existences: and
  • our knowledge and reason about other things, is only as they correspond
  • with those our particular ideas. So that the perception of the agreement
  • or disagreement of our particular ideas, is the whole and utmost of all
  • our knowledge. Universality is but accidental to it, and consists only
  • in this, that the particular ideas about which it is are such as more
  • than one particular, thing can correspond with and be represented by.
  • But the perception of the agreement or disagreement of our particular
  • ideas, and consequently our knowledge, is equally clear and certain,
  • whether either, or both, or neither of those ideas, be capable of
  • representing more real beings than one, or no.
  • 9. Our Reason often fails us.
  • REASON, though it penetrates into the depths of the sea and earth,
  • elevates our thoughts as high as the stars, and leads us through the
  • vast spaces and large rooms of this mighty fabric, yet it comes far
  • short of the real extent of even corporeal being. And there are many
  • instances wherein it fails us: as,
  • First, In cases when we have no Ideas.
  • I. It perfectly fails us, where our ideas fail. It neither does nor can
  • extend itself further than they do. And therefore, wherever we have no
  • ideas, our reasoning stops, and we are at an end of our reckoning: and
  • if at any time we reason about words which do not stand for any ideas,
  • it is only about those sounds, and nothing else.
  • 10. Secondly, Because our Ideas are often obscure or imperfect.
  • II. Our reason is often puzzled and at a loss, because of the obscurity,
  • confusion, or imperfection of the ideas it is employed about; and there
  • we are involved in difficulties and contradictions. Thus, not having any
  • perfect idea of the LEAST EXTENSION OF MATTER, nor of INFINITY, we are
  • at a loss about the divisibility of matter; but having perfect, clear,
  • and distinct ideas of NUMBER, our reason meets with none of those
  • inextricable difficulties in numbers, nor finds itself involved in any
  • contradictions about them. Thus, we having but imperfect ideas of the
  • operations of our minds, and of the beginning of motion, or thought how
  • the mind produces either of them in us, and much imperfecter yet of the
  • operation of God, run into great difficulties about FREE CREATED AGENTS,
  • which reason cannot well extricate itself out of.
  • 11. III. Thirdly, Because we perceive not intermediate Ideas to show
  • conclusions.
  • Our reason is often at a stand, because it perceives not those ideas,
  • which could serve to show the certain or probable agreement or
  • disagreement of any other two ideas: and in this some men's faculties
  • far outgo others. Till algebra, that great instrument and instance of
  • human sagacity, was discovered, men with amazement looked on several of
  • the demonstrations of ancient mathematicians, and could scarce forbear
  • to think the finding several of those proofs to be something more than
  • human.
  • 12. IV. Fourthly, Because we often proceed upon wrong Principles.
  • The mind, by proceeding upon false principles, is often engaged in
  • absurdities and difficulties, brought into straits and contradictions,
  • without knowing how to free itself: and in that case it is in vain to
  • implore the help of reason, unless it be to discover the falsehood and
  • reject the influence of those wrong principles. Reason is so far from
  • clearing the difficulties which the building upon false foundations
  • brings a man into, that if he will pursue it, it entangles him the more,
  • and engages him deeper in perplexities.
  • 13. V. Fifthly, Because we often employ doubtful Terms.
  • As obscure and imperfect ideas often involve our reason, so, upon the
  • same ground, do dubious words and uncertain signs, often, in discourses
  • and arguings, when not warily attended to, puzzle men's reason, and
  • bring them to a nonplus. But these two latter are our fault, and not
  • the fault of reason. But yet the consequences of them are nevertheless
  • obvious; and the perplexities or errors they fill men's minds with are
  • everywhere observable.
  • 14. Our highest Degree of Knowledge is intuitive, without Reasoning.
  • Some of the ideas that are in the mind, are so there, that they can be
  • by themselves immediately compared one with another: and in these the
  • mind is able to perceive that they agree or disagree as clearly as that
  • it has them. Thus the mind perceives, that an arch of a circle is less
  • than the whole circle, as clearly as it does the idea of a circle: and
  • this, therefore, as has been said, I call INTUITIVE KNOWLEDGE; which is
  • certain, beyond all doubt, and needs no probation, nor can have any;
  • this being the highest of all human certainty. In this consists the
  • evidence of all those MAXIMS which nobody has any doubt about, but every
  • man (does not, as is said, only assent to, but) KNOWS to be true, as
  • soon as ever they are proposed to his understanding. In the discovery of
  • and assent to these truths, there is no use of the discursive faculty,
  • NO NEED OF REASONING, but they are known by a superior and higher degree
  • of evidence. And such, if I may guess at things unknown, I am apt to
  • think that angels have now, and the spirits of just men made perfect
  • shall have, in a future state, of thousands of things which now either
  • wholly escape our apprehensions, or which our short-sighted reason
  • having got some faint glimpse of, we, in the dark, grope after.
  • 15. The next is got by Reasoning.
  • But though we have, here and there, a little of this clear light, some
  • sparks of bright knowledge, yet the greatest part of our ideas are such,
  • that we cannot discern their agreement or disagreement by an immediate
  • comparing them. And in all these we have NEED OF REASONING, and must, by
  • discourse and inference, make our discoveries. Now of these there are
  • two sorts, which I shall take the liberty to mention here again:--
  • First, through Reasonings that are Demonstrative.
  • First, Those whose agreement or disagreement, though it cannot be seen
  • by an immediate putting them together, yet may be examined by the
  • intervention of other ideas which can be compared with them. In this
  • case, when the agreement or disagreement of the intermediate idea, on
  • both sides, with those which we would compare, is PLAINLY DISCERNED:
  • there it amounts to DEMONSTRATION whereby knowledge is produced, which,
  • though it be certain, yet it is not so easy, nor altogether so clear
  • as intuitive knowledge. Because in that there is barely one simple
  • intuition, wherein there is no room for any the least mistake or doubt:
  • the truth is seen all perfectly at once. In demonstration, it is true,
  • there is intuition too, but not altogether at once; for there must be
  • a remembrance of the intuition of the agreement of the medium, or
  • intermediate idea, with that we compared it with before, when we compare
  • it with the other: and where there be many mediums, there the danger of
  • the mistake is the greater. For each agreement or disagreement of the
  • ideas must be observed and seen in each step of the whole train, and
  • retained in the memory, just as it is; and the mind must be sure that
  • no part of what is necessary to make up the demonstration is omitted or
  • overlooked. This makes some demonstrations long and perplexed, and too
  • hard for those who have not strength of parts distinctly to perceive,
  • and exactly carry so many particulars orderly in their heads. And even
  • those who are able to master such intricate speculations, are fain
  • sometimes to go over them again, and there is need of more than one
  • review before they can arrive at certainty. But yet where the mind
  • clearly retains the intuition it had of the agreement of any idea with
  • another, and that with a third, and that with a fourth, &c., there the
  • agreement of the first and the fourth is a demonstration, and produces
  • certain knowledge; which may be called RATIONAL KNOWLEDGE, as the other
  • is intuitive.
  • 16. Secondly, to supply the narrowness of Demonstrative and Intuitive
  • Knowledge we have nothing but Judgment upon probable reasoning.
  • Secondly, There are other ideas, whose agreement or disagreement can no
  • otherwise be judged of but by the intervention of others which have not
  • a certain agreement with the extremes, but an USUAL or LIKELY one:
  • and in these is that the JUDGMENT is properly exercised; which is the
  • acquiescing of the mind, that any ideas do agree, by comparing them with
  • such probable mediums. This, though it never amounts to knowledge,
  • no, not to that which is the lowest degree of it; yet sometimes the
  • intermediate ideas tie the extremes so firmly together, and the
  • probability is so clear and strong, that ASSENT as necessarily follows
  • it, as KNOWLEDGE does demonstration. The great excellency and use of the
  • judgment is to observe right, and take a true estimate of the force and
  • weight of each probability; and then casting them up all right together,
  • choose that side which has the overbalance.
  • 17. Intuition, Demonstration, Judgment.
  • INTUITIVE KNOWLEDGE is the perception of the CERTAIN agreement or
  • disagreement of two ideas immediately compared together.
  • RATIONAL KNOWLEDGE is the perception of the CERTAIN agreement or
  • disagreement of any two ideas, by the intervention of one or more other
  • ideas.
  • JUDGMENT is the thinking or taking two ideas to agree or disagree,
  • by the intervention of one or more ideas, whose certain agreement or
  • disagreement with them it does not perceive, but hath observed to be
  • FREQUENT and USUAL.
  • 18. Consequences of Words, and Consequences of Ideas.
  • Though the deducing one proposition from another, or making inferences
  • in WORDS, be a great part of reason, and that which it is usually
  • employed about; yet the principal act of ratiocination is THE FINDING
  • THE AGREEMENT OR DISAGREEMENT OF TWO IDEAS ONE WITH ANOTHER, BY THE
  • INTERVENTION OF A THIRD. As a man, by a yard, finds two houses to be of
  • the same length, which could not be brought together to measure their
  • equality by juxta-position. Words have their consequences, as the signs
  • of such ideas: and things agree or disagree, as really they are; but we
  • observe it only by our ideas.
  • 19. Four sorts of Arguments.
  • Before we quit this subject, it may be worth our while a little to
  • reflect on FOUR SORTS OF ARGUMENTS, that men, in their reasonings with
  • others, do ordinarily make use of to prevail on their assent; or at
  • least so to awe them as to silence their opposition.
  • First, Argumentum ad verecundiam.
  • I. The first is, to allege the opinions of men, whose parts, learning,
  • eminency, power, or some other cause has gained a name, and settled
  • their reputation in the common esteem with some kind of authority. When
  • men are established in any kind of dignity, it is thought a breach
  • of modesty for others to derogate any way from it, and question the
  • authority of men who are in possession of it. This is apt to be
  • censured, as carrying with it too much pride, when a man does not
  • readily yield to the determination of approved authors, which is wont to
  • be received with respect and submission by others: and it is looked upon
  • as insolence, for a man to set up and adhere to his own opinion against
  • the current stream of antiquity; or to put it in the balance against
  • that of some learned doctor, or otherwise approved writer. Whoever backs
  • his tenets with such authorities, thinks he ought thereby to carry the
  • cause, and is ready to style it impudence in any one who shall stand out
  • against them. This I think may be called ARGUMENTUM AD VERECUNDIAM.
  • 20. Secondly, Argumentum ad Ignorantiam.
  • II. Secondly, Another way that men ordinarily use to drive others, and
  • force them to submit their judgments, and receive the opinion in debate,
  • is to require the adversary to admit what they allege as a proof, or to
  • assign a better. And this I call ARGUMENTUM AD IGNORANTIAM.
  • 21. Thirdly, Argumentum ad hominem.
  • III. Thirdly, A third way is to press a man with consequences drawn from
  • his own principles or concessions. This is already known under the name
  • of ARGUMENTUM AD HOMINEM.
  • 22. Fourthly, Argumentum ad justicium. The Fourth alone advances us in
  • knowledge and judgment.
  • IV. The fourth is the using of proofs drawn from any of the foundations
  • of knowledge or probability. This I call ARGUMENTUM AD JUSTICIUM. This
  • alone, of all the four, brings true instruction with it, and advances us
  • in our way to knowledge. For, 1. It argues not another man's opinion to
  • be right, because I, out of respect, or any other consideration but that
  • of conviction, will not contradict him. 2. It proves not another man to
  • be in the right way, nor that I ought to take the same with him, because
  • I know not a better. 3. Nor does it follow that another man is in the
  • right way, because he has shown me that I am in the wrong. I may be
  • modest, and therefore not oppose another man's persuasion: I may be
  • ignorant, and not be able to produce a better: I may be in an error, and
  • another may show me that I am so. This may dispose me, perhaps, for the
  • reception of truth, but helps me not to it: that must come from proofs
  • and arguments, and light arising from the nature of things themselves,
  • and not from my shamefacedness, ignorance, or error.
  • 23. Above, contrary, and according to Reason.
  • By what has been before said of reason, we may be able to make some
  • guess at the distinction of things, into those that are according
  • to, above, and contrary to reason. 1. ACCORDING TO REASON are such
  • propositions whose truth we can discover by examining and tracing those
  • ideas we have from sensation and reflection; and by natural deduction
  • find to be true or probable. 2. ABOVE REASON are such propositions whose
  • truth or probability we cannot by reason derive from those principles.
  • 3. CONTRARY TO REASON are such propositions as are inconsistent with or
  • irreconcilable to our clear and distinct ideas. Thus the existence of
  • one God is according to reason; the existence of more than one God,
  • contrary to reason; the resurrection of the dead, above reason. ABOVE
  • REASON also may be taken in a double sense, viz. either as signifying
  • above probability, or above certainty: and in that large sense also,
  • CONTRARY TO REASON, is, I suppose, sometimes taken.
  • 24. Reason and Faith not opposite, for Faith must be regulated by
  • Reason.
  • There is another use of the word REASON, wherein it is OPPOSED TO FAITH:
  • which, though it be in itself a very improper way of speaking, yet
  • common use has so authorized it, that it would be folly either to oppose
  • or hope to remedy it. Only I think it may not be amiss to take notice,
  • that, however faith be opposed to reason, faith is nothing but a firm
  • assent of the mind: which, if it be regulated, as is our duty, cannot be
  • afforded to anything but upon good reason; and so cannot be opposite to
  • it. He that believes without having any reason for believing, may be in
  • love with his own fancies; but neither seeks truth as he ought, nor pays
  • the obedience due to his Maker, who would have him use those discerning
  • faculties he has given him, to keep him out of mistake and error. He
  • that does not this to the best of his power, however he sometimes lights
  • on truth, is in the right but by chance; and I know not whether
  • the luckiness of the accident will excuse the irregularity of his
  • proceeding. This at least is certain, that he must be accountable for
  • whatever mistakes he runs into: whereas he that makes use of the light
  • and faculties God has given him, and seeks sincerely to discover truth
  • by those helps and abilities he has, may have this satisfaction in doing
  • his duty as a rational creature, that, though he should miss truth, he
  • will not miss the reward of it. For he governs his assent right, and
  • places it as he should, who, in any case or matter whatsoever, believes
  • or disbelieves according as reason directs him. He that doth otherwise,
  • transgresses against his own light, and misuses those faculties which
  • were given him to no other end, but to search and follow the clearer
  • evidence and greater probability. But since reason and faith are by some
  • men opposed, we will so consider them in the following chapter.
  • CHAPTER XVIII.
  • OF FAITH AND REASON, AND THEIR DISTINCT PROVINCES.
  • 1. Necessary to know their boundaries.
  • It has been above shown, 1. That we are of necessity ignorant, and want
  • knowledge of all sorts, where we want ideas. 2. That we are ignorant,
  • and want rational knowledge, where we want proofs. 3. That we want
  • certain knowledge and certainty, as far as we want clear and determined
  • specific ideas. 4. That we want probability to direct our assent in
  • matters where we have neither knowledge of our own nor testimony of
  • other men to bottom our reason upon. From these things thus premised, I
  • think we may come to lay down THE MEASURES AND BOUNDARIES BETWEEN FAITH
  • AND REASON: the want whereof may possibly have been the cause, if not of
  • great disorders, yet at least of great disputes, and perhaps mistakes
  • in the world. For till it be resolved how far we are to be guided by
  • reason, and how far by faith, we shall in vain dispute, and endeavour to
  • convince one another in matters of religion.
  • 2. Faith and Reason, what, as contradistingushed.
  • I find every sect, as far as reason will help them, make use of it
  • gladly: and where it fails them, they cry out, It is matter of faith,
  • and above reason. And I do not see how they can argue with any one,
  • or ever convince a gainsayer who makes use of the same plea, without
  • setting down strict boundaries between faith and reason; which ought to
  • be the first point established in all questions where faith has anything
  • to do.
  • REASON, therefore, here, as contradistinguished to FAITH, I take to be
  • the discovery of the certainty or probability of such propositions or
  • truths, which the mind arrives at by deduction made from such ideas,
  • which it has got by the use of its natural faculties; viz. by sensation
  • or reflection.
  • FAITH, on the other side, is the assent to any proposition, not thus
  • made out by the deductions of reason, but upon the credit of
  • the proposer, as coming from God, in some extraordinary way of
  • communication. This way of discovering truths to men, we call
  • REVELATION.
  • 3. First, No new simple Idea can be conveyed by traditional Revelation.
  • FIRST, Then I say, that NO MAN INSPIRED BY GOD CAN BY ANY REVELATION
  • COMMUNICATE TO OTHERS ANY NEW SIMPLE IDEAS WHICH THEY HAD NOT BEFORE
  • FROM SENSATION OR REFLECTION. For, whatsoever impressions he himself may
  • have from the immediate hand of God, this revelation, if it be of new
  • simple ideas, cannot be conveyed to another, either by words or any
  • other signs. Because words, by their immediate operation on us, cause no
  • other ideas but of their natural sounds: and it is by the custom of
  • using them for signs, that they excite and revive in our minds latent
  • ideas; but yet only such ideas as were there before. For words, seen or
  • heard, recal to our thoughts those ideas only which to us they have been
  • wont to be signs of, but cannot introduce any perfectly new, and
  • formerly unknown simple ideas. The same holds in all other signs; which
  • cannot signify to us things of which we have before never had any idea
  • at all.
  • Thus whatever things were discovered to St. Paul, when he was rapt up
  • into the third heaven; whatever new ideas his mind there received, all
  • the description he can make to others of that place, is only this, That
  • there are such things, 'as eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor hath
  • it entered into the heart of man to conceive.' And supposing God should
  • discover to any one, supernaturally, a species of creatures inhabiting,
  • for example, Jupiter or Saturn, (for that it is possible there may be
  • such, nobody can deny,) which had six senses; and imprint on his mind
  • the ideas conveyed to theirs by that sixth sense: he could no more, by
  • words, produce in the minds of other men those ideas imprinted by that
  • sixth sense, than one of us could convey the idea of any colour, by the
  • sound of words, into a man who, having the other four senses perfect,
  • had always totally wanted the fifth, of seeing. For our simple ideas,
  • then, which are the foundation, and sole matter of all our notions and
  • knowledge, we must depend wholly on our reason, I mean our natural
  • faculties; and can by no means receive them, or any of them, from
  • traditional revelation. I say, TRADITIONAL REVELATION, in distinction to
  • ORIGINAL REVELATION. By the one, I mean that first impression which is
  • made immediately by God on the mind of any man, to which we cannot set
  • any bounds; and by the other, those impressions delivered over to others
  • in words, and the ordinary ways of conveying our conceptions one to
  • another.
  • 4. Secondly, Traditional Revelation may make us know Propositions
  • knowable also by Reason, but not with the same Certainty that Reason
  • doth.
  • SECONDLY, I say that THE SAME TRUTHS MAY BE DISCOVERED, AND CONVEYED
  • DOWN FROM REVELATION, WHICH ARE DISCERNABLE TO US BY REASON, AND BY
  • THOSE IDEAS WE NATURALLY MAY HAVE. So God might, by revelation, discover
  • the truth of any proposition in Euclid; as well as men, by the natural
  • use of their faculties, come to make the discovery themselves. In all
  • things of this kind there is little need or use of revelation, God
  • having furnished us with natural and surer means to arrive at the
  • knowledge of them. For whatsoever truth we come to the clear discovery
  • of, from the knowledge and contemplation of our own ideas, will always
  • be certainer to us than those which are conveyed to us by TRADITIONAL
  • REVELATION. For the knowledge we have that this revelation came at first
  • from God, can never be so sure as the knowledge we have from the clear
  • and distinct perception of the agreement or disagreement of our own
  • ideas: v.g. if it were revealed some ages since, that the three angles
  • of a triangle were equal to two right ones, I might assent to the truth
  • of that proposition, upon the credit of the tradition, that it was
  • revealed: but that would never amount to so great a certainty as the
  • knowledge of it, upon the comparing and measuring my own ideas of two
  • right angles, and the three angles of a triangle. The like holds in
  • matter of fact knowable by our senses; v.g. the history of the deluge is
  • conveyed to us by writings which had their original from revelation: and
  • yet nobody, I think, will say he has as certain and clear a knowledge of
  • the flood as Noah, that saw it; or that he himself would have had, had
  • he then been alive and seen it. For he has no greater an assurance than
  • that of his senses, that it is writ in the book supposed writ by Moses
  • inspired: but he has not so great an assurance that Moses wrote that
  • book as if he had seen Moses write it. So that the assurance of its
  • being a revelation is less still than the assurance of his senses.
  • 5. Even Original Revelation cannot be admitted against the clear Evidence
  • of Reason.
  • In propositions, then, whose certainty is built upon the clear
  • perception of the agreement or disagreement of our ideas, attained
  • either by immediate intuition, as in self-evident propositions, or
  • by evident deductions of reason in demonstrations we need not the
  • assistance of revelation, as necessary to gain our assent, and introduce
  • them into our minds. Because the natural ways of knowledge could settle
  • them there, or had done it already; which is the greatest assurance we
  • can possibly have of anything, unless where God immediately reveals it
  • to us: and there too our assurance can be no greater than our knowledge
  • is, that it IS a revelation from God. But yet nothing, I think, can,
  • under that title, shake or overrule plain knowledge; or rationally
  • prevail with any man to admit it for true, in a direct contradiction to
  • the clear evidence of his own understanding. For, since no evidence of
  • our faculties, by which we receive such revelations, can exceed, if
  • equal, the certainty of our intuitive knowledge, we can never receive
  • for a truth anything that is directly contrary to our clear and distinct
  • knowledge; v.g. the ideas of one body and one place do so clearly agree,
  • and the mind has so evident a perception of their agreement, that we can
  • never assent to a proposition that affirms the same body to be in two
  • distant places at once, however it should pretend to the authority of
  • a divine revelation: since the evidence, first, that we deceive not
  • ourselves, in ascribing it to God; secondly, that we understand it
  • right; can never be so great as the evidence of our own intuitive
  • knowledge, whereby we discern it impossible for the same body to be in
  • two places at once. And therefore NO PROPOSITION CAN BE RECEIVED FOR
  • DIVINE REVELATION, OR OBTAIN THE ASSENT DUE TO ALL SUCH, IF IT BE
  • CONTRADICTORY TO OUR CLEAR INTUITIVE KNOWLEDGE. Because this would be to
  • subvert the principles and foundations of all knowledge, evidence, and
  • assent whatsoever: and there would be left no difference between truth
  • and falsehood, no measures of credible and incredible in the world, if
  • doubtful propositions shall take place before self-evident; and what
  • we certainly know give way to what we may possibly be mistaken in. In
  • propositions therefore contrary to the clear perception of the agreement
  • or disagreement of any of our ideas, it will be in vain to urge them as
  • matters of faith. They cannot move our assent under that or any other
  • title whatsoever. For faith can never convince us of anything that
  • contradicts our knowledge. Because, though faith be founded on the
  • testimony of God (who cannot lie) revealing any proposition to us:
  • yet we cannot have an assurance of the truth of its being a divine
  • revelation greater than our own knowledge. Since the whole strength of
  • the certainty depends upon our knowledge that God revealed it; which,
  • in this case, where the proposition supposed revealed contradicts our
  • knowledge or reason, will always have this objection hanging to it, viz.
  • that we cannot tell how to conceive that to come from God, the bountiful
  • Author of our being, which, if received for true, must overturn all the
  • principles and foundations of knowledge he has given us; render all
  • our faculties useless; wholly destroy the most excellent part of his
  • workmanship, our understandings; and put a man in a condition wherein he
  • will have less light, less conduct than the beast that perisheth. For
  • if the mind of man can never have a clearer (and perhaps not so clear)
  • evidence of anything to be a divine revelation, as it has of the
  • principles of its own reason, it can never have a ground to quit the
  • clear evidence of its reason, to give a place to a proposition, whose
  • revelation has not a greater evidence than those principles have.
  • 6. Traditional Revelation much less.
  • Thus far a man has use of reason, and ought to hearken to it, even in
  • immediate and original revelation, where it is supposed to be made to
  • himself. But to all those who pretend not to immediate revelation, but
  • are required to pay obedience, and to receive the truths revealed to
  • others, which, by the tradition of writings, or word of mouth, are
  • conveyed down to them, reason has a great deal more to do, and is that
  • only which can induce us to receive them. For matter of faith being only
  • divine revelation, and nothing else, faith, as we use the word, (called
  • commonly DIVINE FAITH), has to do with no propositions, but those which
  • are supposed to be divinely revealed. So that I do not see how those who
  • make revelation alone the sole object of faith can say, That it is a
  • matter of faith, and not of reason, to believe that such or such
  • a proposition, to be found in such or such a book, is of divine
  • inspiration; unless it be revealed that that proposition, or all in that
  • book, was communicated by divine inspiration. Without such a revelation,
  • the believing, or not believing, that proposition, or book, to be of
  • divine authority, can never be matter of faith, but matter of reason;
  • and such as I must come to an assent to only by the use of my reason,
  • which can never require or enable me to believe that which is contrary
  • to itself: it being impossible for reason ever to procure any assent to
  • that which to itself appears unreasonable.
  • In all things, therefore, where we have clear evidence from our ideas,
  • and those principles of knowledge I have above mentioned, reason is the
  • proper judge; and revelation, though it may, in consenting with it,
  • confirm its dictates, yet cannot in such cases invalidate its decrees:
  • nor can we be obliged, where we have the clear and evident sentence of
  • reason, to quit it for the contrary opinion, under a pretence that it is
  • matter of faith: which can have no authority against the plain and clear
  • dictates of reason.
  • 7. Thirdly, things above Reason are, when revealed, the proper matter of
  • faith.
  • But, THIRDLY, There being many things wherein we have very imperfect
  • notions, or none at all; and other things, of whose past, present, or
  • future existence, by the natural use of our faculties, we can have no
  • knowledge at all; these, as being beyond the discovery of our natural
  • faculties, and ABOVE REASON, are, when revealed, THE PROPER MATTER OF
  • FAITH. Thus, that part of the angels rebelled against God, and thereby
  • lost their first happy state: and that the dead shall rise, and live
  • again: these and the like, being beyond the discovery of reason, are
  • purely matters of faith, with which reason has directly nothing to do.
  • 8. Or not contrary to Reason, if revealed, are Matter of Faith; and must
  • carry it against probable conjectures of Reason.
  • But since God, in giving us the light of reason, has not thereby tied
  • up his own hands from affording us, when he thinks fit, the light of
  • revelation in any of those matters wherein our natural faculties are
  • able to give a probable determination; REVELATION, where God has been
  • pleased to give it, MUST CARRY IT AGAINST THE PROBABLE CONJECTURES OF
  • REASON. Because the mind not being certain of the truth of that it does
  • not evidently know, but only yielding to the probability that appears
  • in it, is bound to give up its assent to such a testimony which, it is
  • satisfied, comes from one who cannot err, and will not deceive. But
  • yet, it still belongs to reason to judge of the truth of its being
  • a revelation, and of the signification of the words wherein it is
  • delivered. Indeed, if anything shall be thought revelation which is
  • contrary to the plain principles of reason, and the evident knowledge
  • the mind has of its own clear and distinct ideas; there reason must be
  • hearkened to, as to a matter within its province. Since a man can never
  • have so certain a knowledge, that a proposition which contradicts
  • the clear principles and evidence of his own knowledge was divinely
  • revealed, or that he understands the words rightly wherein it is
  • delivered, as he has that the contrary is true, and so is bound to
  • consider and judge of it as a matter of reason, and not swallow it,
  • without examination, as a matter of faith.
  • 9. Revelation in Matters where Reason cannot judge, or but probably,
  • ought to be hearkened to.
  • First, Whatever proposition is revealed, of whose truth our mind, by its
  • natural faculties and notions, cannot judge, that is purely matter of
  • faith, and above reason.
  • Secondly, All propositions whereof the mind, by the use of its natural
  • faculties, can come to determine and judge, from naturally acquired
  • ideas, are matter of reason; with this difference still, that, in those
  • concerning which it has but an uncertain evidence, and so is persuaded
  • of their truth only upon probable grounds, which still admit a
  • possibility of the contrary to be true, without doing violence to the
  • certain evidence of its own knowledge, and overturning the principles of
  • all reason; in such probable propositions, I say, an evident revelation
  • ought to determine our assent, even against probability. For where the
  • principles of reason have not evidenced a proposition to be certainly
  • true or false, there clear revelation, as another principle of truth and
  • ground of assent, may determine; and so it may be matter of faith, and
  • be also above reason. Because reason, in that particular matter, being
  • able to reach no higher than probability, faith gave the determination
  • where reason came short; and revelation discovered on which side the
  • truth lay.
  • 10. In Matters where Reason can afford certain Knowledge, that is to be
  • hearkened to.
  • Thus far the dominion of faith reaches, and that without any violence or
  • hindrance to reason; which is not injured or disturbed, but assisted and
  • improved by new discoveries of truth, coming from the eternal fountain
  • of all knowledge. Whatever God hath revealed is certainly true: no doubt
  • can be made of it. This is the proper object of faith: but whether it be
  • a DIVINE revelation or no, reason must judge; which can never permit the
  • mind to reject a greater evidence to embrace what is less evident,
  • nor allow it to entertain probability in opposition to knowledge and
  • certainty. There can be no evidence that any traditional revelation is
  • of divine original, in the words we receive it, and in the sense we
  • understand it, so clear and so certain as that of the principles of
  • reason: and therefore NOTHING THAT IS CONTRARY TO, AND INCONSISTENT
  • WITH, THE CLEAR AND SELF-EVIDENT DICTATES OF REASON, HAS A RIGHT TO BE
  • URGED OR ASSENTED TO AS A MATTER OF FAITH, WHEREIN REASON HATH NOTHING
  • TO DO. Whatsoever is divine revelation, ought to overrule all our
  • opinions, prejudices, and interest, and hath a right to be received with
  • full assent. Such a submission as this, of our reason to faith, takes
  • not away the landmarks of knowledge: this shakes not the foundations
  • of reason, but leaves us that use of our faculties for which they were
  • given us.
  • 11. If the Boundaries be not set between Faith and Reason, no Enthusiasm
  • or Extravagancy in Religion can be contradicted.
  • If the provinces of faith and reason are not kept distinct by these
  • boundaries, there will, in matters of religion, be no room for reason at
  • all; and those extravagant opinions and ceremonies that are to be found
  • in the several religions of the world will not deserve to be blamed.
  • For, to this crying up of faith in OPPOSITION to reason, we may, I
  • think, in good measure ascribe those absurdities that fill almost all
  • the religions which possess and divide mankind. For men having been
  • principled with an opinion, that they must not consult reason in the
  • things of religion, however apparently contradictory to common sense and
  • the very principles of all their knowledge, have let loose their fancies
  • and natural superstition; and have been by them led into so strange
  • opinions, and extravagant practices in religion, that a considerate man
  • cannot but stand amazed, at their follies, and judge them so far from
  • being acceptable to the great and wise God, that he cannot avoid
  • thinking them ridiculous and offensive to a sober good man. So that,
  • in effect, religion, which should most distinguish us from beasts,
  • and ought most peculiarly to elevate us, as rational creatures, above
  • brutes, is that wherein men often appear most irrational, and more
  • senseless than beasts themselves. CREDO, QUIA IMPOSSIBILE EST: I
  • believe, because it is impossible, might, in a good man, pass for a
  • sally of zeal; but would prove a very ill rule for men to choose their
  • opinions or religion by.
  • CHAPTER XIX. [not in early editions]
  • CHAPTER XX.
  • OF WRONG ASSENT, OR ERROR.
  • 1. Causes of Error, or how men come to give assent contrary to
  • probability.
  • KNOWLEDGE being to be had only of visible and certain truth, ERROR is
  • not a fault of our knowledge, but a mistake of our judgment giving
  • assent to that which is not true.
  • But if assent be grounded on likelihood, if the proper object and motive
  • of our assent be probability, and that probability consists in what is
  • laid down in the foregoing chapters, it will be demanded HOW MEN COME TO
  • GIVE THEIR ASSENTS CONTRARY TO PROBABILITY. For there is nothing more
  • common than contrariety of opinions; nothing more obvious than that
  • one man wholly disbelieves what another only doubts of, and a third
  • steadfastly believes and firmly adheres to.
  • The reasons whereof, though they may be very various, yet, I suppose may
  • all be reduced to these four:
  • I. WANT OF PROOFS.
  • II. WANT OF ABILITY TO USE THEM.
  • III. WANT OF WILL TO SEE THEM.
  • IV. WRONG MEASURES OF PROBABILITY.
  • 2. First cause of Error, Want of Proofs.
  • FIRST, By WANT OF PROOFS, I do not mean only the want of those proofs
  • which are nowhere extant, and so are nowhere to be had; but the want
  • even of those proofs which are in being, or might be procured. And thus
  • men want proofs, who have not the convenience or opportunity to make
  • experiments and observations themselves, tending to the proof of any
  • proposition; nor likewise the convenience to inquire into and collect
  • the testimonies of others: and in this state are the greatest part of
  • mankind, who are given up to labour, and enslaved to the necessity of
  • their mean condition, whose lives are worn out only in the provisions
  • for living. These men's opportunities of knowledge and inquiry are
  • commonly as narrow as their fortunes; and their understandings are but
  • little instructed, when all their whole time and pains is laid out to
  • still the croaking of their own bellies, or the cries of their children.
  • It is not to be expected that a man who drudges on all his life in a
  • laborious trade, should be more knowing in the variety of things done
  • in the world than a packhorse, who is driven constantly forwards and
  • backwards in a narrow lane and dirty road, only to market, should be
  • skilled in the geography of the country. Nor is it at all more possible,
  • that he who wants leisure, books, and languages, and the opportunity
  • of conversing with variety of men, should be in a condition to collect
  • those testimonies and observations which are in being, and are necessary
  • to make out many, nay most, of the propositions that, in the societies
  • of men, are judged of the greatest moment; or to find out grounds of
  • assurance so great as the belief of the points he would build on them is
  • thought necessary. So that a great part of mankind are, by the natural
  • and unalterable state of things in this world, and the constitution of
  • human affairs, unavoidably given over to invincible ignorance of those
  • proofs on which others build, and which are necessary to establish those
  • opinions: the greatest part of men, having much to do to get the means
  • of living, are not in a condition to look after those of learned and
  • laborious inquiries.
  • 3. Objection, What shall become of those who want Proofs? Answered.
  • What shall we say, then? Are the greatest part of mankind, by the
  • necessity of their condition, subjected to unavoidable ignorance, in
  • those things which are of greatest importance to them? (for of those
  • it is obvious to inquire.) Have the bulk of mankind no other guide but
  • accident and blind chance to conduct them to their happiness or
  • misery? Are the current opinions, and licensed guides of every country
  • sufficient evidence and security to every man to venture his great
  • concernments on; nay, his everlasting happiness or misery? Or can those
  • be the certain and infallible oracles and standards of truth, which
  • teach one thing in Christendom and another in Turkey? Or shall a poor
  • countryman be eternally happy, for having the chance to be born in
  • Italy; or a day-labourer be unavoidably lost, because he had the
  • ill-luck to be born in England? How ready some men may be to say some of
  • these things, I will not here examine: but this I am sure, that men must
  • allow one or other of these to be true, (let them choose which they
  • please,) or else grant that God has furnished men with faculties
  • sufficient to direct them in the way they should take, if they will but
  • seriously employ them that way, when their ordinary vocations allow them
  • the leisure. No man is so wholly taken up with the attendance on the
  • means of living, as to have no spare time at all to think of his soul,
  • and inform himself in matters of religion. Were men as intent upon this
  • as they are on things of lower concernment, there are none so enslaved
  • to the necessities of life who might not find many vacancies that might
  • be husbanded to this advantage of their knowledge.
  • 4. People hindered from Inquiry.
  • Besides those whose improvements and informations are straitened by
  • the narrowness of their fortunes, there are others whose largeness of
  • fortune would plentifully enough supply books, and other requisites for
  • clearing of doubts, and discovering of truth: but they are cooped in
  • close, by the laws of their countries, and the strict guards of those
  • whose interest it is to keep them ignorant, lest, knowing more, they
  • should believe the less in them. These are as far, nay further, from
  • the liberty and opportunities of a fair inquiry, than these poor and
  • wretched labourers we before spoke of: and however they may seem high
  • and great, are confined to narrowness of thought, and enslaved in that
  • which should be the freest part of man, their understandings. This is
  • generally the case of all those who live in places where care is taken
  • to propagate truth without knowledge; where men are forced, at a
  • venture, to be of the religion of the country; and must therefore
  • swallow down opinions, as silly people do empiric's pills, without
  • knowing what they are made of, or how they will work, and having nothing
  • to do but believe that they will do the cure: but in this are much
  • more miserable than they, in that they are not at liberty to refuse
  • swallowing what perhaps they had rather let alone; or to choose the
  • physician, to whose conduct they would trust themselves.
  • 5. Second Cause of Error, Want of skill to use Proofs.
  • SECONDLY, Those who WANT SKILL TO USE THOSE EVIDENCES THEY HAVE OF
  • PROBABILITIES; who cannot carry a train of consequences in their heads;
  • nor weigh exactly the preponderancy of contrary proofs and testimonies,
  • making every circumstance its due allowance; may be easily misled to
  • assent to positions that are not probable. There are some men of one,
  • some but of two syllogisms, and no more; and others that can but advance
  • one step further. These cannot always discern that side on which the
  • strongest proofs lie; cannot constantly follow that which in itself is
  • the more probable opinion. Now that there is such a difference between
  • men, in respect of their understandings, I think nobody, who has had any
  • conversation with his neighbours, will question: though he never was at
  • Westminster-Hall or the Exchange on the one hand, nor at Alms-houses
  • or Bedlam on the other. Which great difference in men's intellectuals,
  • whether it rises from any defect in the organs of the body, particularly
  • adapted to thinking; or in the dulness or untractableness of those
  • faculties for want of use; or, as some think, in the natural differences
  • of men's souls themselves; or some, or all of these together; it matters
  • not here to examine: only this is evident, that there is a difference of
  • degrees in men's understandings, apprehensions, and reasonings, to so
  • great a latitude, that one may, without doing injury to mankind, affirm,
  • that there is a greater distance between some men and others in this
  • respect, than between some men and some beasts. But how this comes about
  • is a speculation, though of great consequence, yet not necessary to our
  • present purpose.
  • 6. Third cause of Error, Want of Will to use them.
  • THIRDLY, There are another sort of people that want proofs, not because
  • they are out of their reach, but BECAUSE THEY WILL NOT USE THEM: who,
  • though they have riches and leisure enough, and want neither parts nor
  • learning, may yet, through their hot pursuit of pleasure, or business,
  • or else out of laziness or fear that the doctrines whose truth they
  • would inquire into would not suit well with their opinions, lives or
  • designs, may never come to the knowledge of, nor give their assent to,
  • those possibilities which lie so much within their view, that, to be
  • convinced of them, they need but turn their eyes that way. We know some
  • men will not read a letter which is supposed to bring ill news; and many
  • men forbear to cast up their accounts, or so much as think upon their
  • estates, who have reason to fear their affairs are in no very good
  • posture. How men, whose plentiful fortunes allow them leisure to improve
  • their understandings, can satisfy themselves with a lazy ignorance, I
  • cannot tell: but methinks they have a low opinion of their souls, who
  • lay out all their incomes in provisions for the body, and employ none of
  • it to procure the means and helps of knowledge; who take great care to
  • appear always in a neat and splendid outside, and would think themselves
  • miserable in coarse clothes, or a patched coat, and yet contentedly
  • suffer their minds to appear abroad in a piebald livery of coarse
  • patches and borrowed shreds, such as it has pleased chance, or their
  • country tailor (I mean the common opinion of those they have conversed
  • with) to clothe them in. I will not here mention how unreasonable this
  • is for men that ever think of a future state, and their concernment in
  • it, which no rational man can avoid to do sometimes: nor shall I take
  • notice what a shame and confusion it is to the greatest contemners of
  • knowledge, to be found ignorant in things they are concerned to
  • know. But this at least is worth the consideration of those who call
  • themselves gentlemen, That, however they may think credit, respect,
  • power, and authority the concomitants of their birth and fortune, yet
  • they will find all these still carried away from them by men of lower
  • condition, who surpass them in knowledge. They who are blind will
  • always be led by those that see, or else fall into the ditch: and he
  • is certainly the most subjected, the most enslaved, who is so in his
  • understanding. In the foregoing instances some of the causes have been
  • shown of wrong assent, and how it comes to pass, that probable doctrines
  • are not always received with an assent proportionable to the reasons
  • which are to be had for their probability: but hitherto we have
  • considered only such probabilities whose proofs do exist, but do not
  • appear to him who embraces the error.
  • 7. Fourth cause of Error, Wrong Measures of Probability: which are--
  • FOURTHLY, There remains yet the last sort, who, even where the real
  • probabilities appear, and are plainly laid before them, do not admit
  • of the conviction, nor yield unto manifest reasons, but do either
  • suspend their assent, or give it to the less probable opinion. And
  • to this danger are those exposed who have taken up WRONG MEASURES OF
  • PROBABILITY, which are:
  • I. PROPOSITIONS THAT ARE IN THEMSELVES CERTAIN AND EVIDENT, BUT DOUBTFUL
  • AND FALSE, TAKEN UP FOR PRINCIPLES.
  • II. RECEIVED HYPOTHESES.
  • III. PREDOMINANT PASSIONS OR INCLINATIONS.
  • IV. AUTHORITY.
  • 8. I. Doubtful Propositions taken for Principles.
  • The first and firmest ground of probability is the conformity anything
  • has to our own knowledge; especially that part of our knowledge which
  • we have embraced, and continue to look on as PRINCIPLES. These have so
  • great an influence upon our opinions, that it is usually by them we
  • judge of truth, and measure probability; to that degree, that what is
  • inconsistent with our principles, is so far from passing for probable
  • with us, that it will not be allowed possible. The reverence borne to
  • these principles is so great, and their authority so paramount to all
  • other, that the testimony, not only of other men, but the evidence of
  • our own senses are often rejected, when they offer to vouch anything
  • contrary to these established rules. How much the doctrine of INNATE
  • PRINCIPLES, and that principles are not to be proved or questioned, has
  • contributed to this, I will not here examine. This I readily grant, that
  • one truth cannot contradict another: but withal I take leave also to
  • say, that every one ought very carefully to beware what he admits for a
  • principle, to examine it strictly, and see whether he certainly knows it
  • to be true of itself, by its own evidence, or whether he does only with
  • assurance believe it to be so, upon the authority of others. For he
  • hath a strong bias put into his understanding, which will unavoidably
  • misguide his assent, who hath imbibed WRONG PRINCIPLES, and has blindly
  • given himself up to the authority of any opinion in itself not evidently
  • true.
  • 9. Instilled in childhood.
  • There is nothing more ordinary than children's receiving into their
  • minds propositions (especially about matters of religion) from their
  • parents, nurses, or those about them: which being insinuated into their
  • unwary as well as unbiassed understandings, and fastened by degrees, are
  • at last (equally whether true or false) riveted there by long custom and
  • education, beyond all possibility of being pulled out again. For men,
  • when they are grown up, reflecting upon their opinions, and finding
  • those of this sort to be as ancient in their minds as their very
  • memories, not having observed their early insinuation, nor by what means
  • they got them, they are apt to reverence them as sacred things, and not
  • to suffer them to be profaned, touched, or questioned: they look on
  • them as the Urim and Thummim set up in their minds immediately by God
  • himself, to be the great and unerring deciders of truth and falsehood,
  • and the judges to which they are to appeal in all manner of
  • controversies.
  • 10. Of irresistible efficacy.
  • This opinion of his principles (let them be what they will) being once
  • established in any one's mind, it is easy to be imagined what reception
  • any proposition shall find, how clearly soever proved, that shall
  • invalidate their authority, or at all thwart with these internal
  • oracles; whereas the grossest absurdities and improbabilities, being but
  • agreeable to such principles, go down glibly, and are easily digested.
  • The great obstinacy that is to be found in men firmly believing quite
  • contrary opinions, though many times equally absurd, in the various
  • religions of mankind, are as evident a proof as they are an unavoidable
  • consequence of this way of reasoning from received traditional
  • principles. So that men will disbelieve their own eyes, renounce the
  • evidence of their senses, and give their own experience the lie, rather
  • than admit of anything disagreeing with these sacred tenets. Take an
  • intelligent Romanist that, from the first dawning of any notions in his
  • understanding, hath had this principle constantly inculcated, viz. that
  • he must believe as the church (i.e. those of his communion) believes,
  • or that the pope is infallible, and this he never so much as heard
  • questioned, till at forty or fifty years old he met with one of other
  • principles: how is he prepared easily to swallow, not only against all
  • probability, but even the clear evidence of his senses, the doctrine of
  • TRANSUBSTANTIATION? This principle has such an influence on his mind,
  • that he will believe that to be flesh which he sees to be bread. And
  • what way will you take to convince a man of any improbable opinion he
  • holds, who, with some philosophers, hath laid down this as a foundation
  • of reasoning, That he must believe his reason (for so men improperly
  • call arguments drawn from their principles) against his senses? Let an
  • enthusiast be principled that he or his teacher is inspired, and acted
  • by an immediate communication of the Divine Spirit, and you in vain
  • bring the evidence of clear reasons against his doctrine. Whoever,
  • therefore, have imbibed wrong principles, are not, in things
  • inconsistent with these principles, to be moved by the most apparent
  • and convincing probabilities, till they are so candid and ingenuous to
  • themselves, as to be persuaded to examine even those very principles,
  • which many never suffer themselves to do.
  • 11. Received Hypotheses.
  • Next to these are men whose understandings are cast into a mould, and
  • fashioned just to the size of a received HYPOTHESIS. The difference
  • between these and the former, is, that they will admit of matter of
  • fact, and agree with dissenters in that; but differ only in assigning of
  • reasons and explaining the manner of operation. These are not at that
  • open defiance with their senses, with the former: they can endure to
  • hearken to their information a little more patiently; but will by no
  • means admit of their reports in the explanation of things; nor be
  • prevailed on by probabilities, which would convince them that things
  • are not brought about just after the same manner that they have decreed
  • within themselves that they are. Would it not be an insufferable thing
  • for a learned professor, and that which his scarlet would blush at, to
  • have his authority of forty years standing, wrought out of hard rock,
  • Greek and Latin, with no small expense of time and candle, and confirmed
  • by general tradition and a reverend beard, in an instant overturned
  • by an upstart novelist? Can any one expect that he should be made to
  • confess, that what he taught his scholars thirty years ago was all error
  • and mistake; and that he sold them hard words and ignorance at a very
  • dear rate. What probabilities, I say, are sufficient to prevail in such
  • a case? And who ever, by the most cogent arguments, will be prevailed
  • with to disrobe himself at once of all his old opinions, and pretences
  • to knowledge and learning, which with hard study he hath all this time
  • been labouring for; and turn himself out stark naked, in quest afresh of
  • new notions? All the arguments that can be used will be as little able
  • to prevail, as the wind did with the traveller to part with his cloak,
  • which he held only the faster. To this of wrong hypothesis may be
  • reduced the errors that may be occasioned by a true hypothesis, or right
  • principles, but not rightly understood. There is nothing more familiar
  • than this. The instances of men contending for different opinions, which
  • they all derive from the infallible truth of the Scripture, are an
  • undeniable proof of it. All that call themselves Christians, allow the
  • text that says,[word in Greek], to carry in it the obligation to a very
  • weighty duty. But yet how very erroneous will one of their practices
  • be, who, understanding nothing but the French, take this rule with one
  • translation to be, REPENTEZ-VOUS, repent; or with the other, FATIEZ
  • PENITENCE, do penance.
  • 12. III. Predominant Passions.
  • Probabilities which cross men's appetites and prevailing passions run
  • the same fate. Let ever so much probability hang on one side of a
  • covetous man's reasoning, and money on the other; it is easy to foresee
  • which will outweigh. Earthly minds, like mud walls, resist the strongest
  • batteries: and though, perhaps, sometimes the force of a clear argument
  • may make some impression, yet they nevertheless stand firm, and keep
  • out the enemy, truth, that would captivate or disturb them. Tell a man
  • passionately in love, that he is jilted; bring a score of witnesses of
  • the falsehood of his mistress, it is ten to one but three kind words
  • of hers shall invalidate all their testimonies. QUOD VOLUMUS, FACILE
  • CREDIMUS; what suits our wishes, is forwardly believed, is, I suppose,
  • what every one hath more than once experimented: and though men cannot
  • always openly gainsay or resist the force of manifest probabilities that
  • make against them, yet yield they not to the argument. Not but that it
  • is the nature of the understanding constantly to close with the more
  • probable side; but yet a man hath a power to suspend and restrain its
  • inquiries, and not permit a full and satisfactory examination, as far as
  • the matter in question is capable, and will bear it to be made. Until
  • that be done, there will be always these two ways left of evading the
  • most apparent probabilities:
  • 13. Two Means of evading Probabilities: 1. Supposed Fallacy latent in
  • the words employed.
  • First, That the arguments being (as for the most part they are) brought
  • in words, THERE MAY BE A FALLACY LATENT IN THEM: and the consequences
  • being, perhaps, many in train, they may be some of them incoherent.
  • There are very few discourses so short, clear, and consistent, to which
  • most men may not, with satisfaction enough to themselves, raise this
  • doubt; and from whose conviction they may not, without reproach of
  • disingenuity or unreasonableness, set themselves free with the old
  • reply, Non persuadebis, etiamsi persuaseris; though I cannot answer, I
  • will not yield.
  • 14. Supposed unknown Arguments for the contrary.
  • Secondly, Manifest probabilities maybe evaded, and the assent withheld,
  • upon this suggestion, That I know not yet all that may be said on the
  • contrary side. And therefore, though I be beaten, it is not necessary I
  • should yield, not knowing what forces there are in reserve behind. This
  • is a refuge against conviction so open and so wide, that it is hard to
  • determine when a man is quite out of the verge of it.
  • 15. What Probabilities naturally determine the Assent.
  • But yet there is some end of it; and a man having carefully inquired
  • into all the grounds of probability and unlikeliness; done his utmost to
  • inform himself in all particulars fairly, and cast up the sum total on
  • both sides; may, in most cases, come to acknowledge, upon the whole
  • matter, on which side the probability rests: wherein some proofs in
  • matter of reason, being suppositions upon universal experience, are so
  • cogent and clear, and some testimonies in matter of fact so universal,
  • that he cannot refuse his assent. So that I think we may conclude, that,
  • in propositions, where though the proofs in view are of most moment, yet
  • there are sufficient grounds to suspect that there is either fallacy in
  • words, or certain proofs as considerable to be produced on the contrary
  • side; there assent, suspense, or dissent, are often voluntary actions.
  • But where the proofs are such as make it highly probable, and there is
  • not sufficient ground to suspect that there is either fallacy of words
  • (which sober and serious consideration may discover) nor equally valid
  • proofs yet undiscovered, latent on the other side (which also the nature
  • of the thing may, in some cases, make plain to a considerate man;)
  • there, I think, a man who has weighed them can scarce refuse his assent
  • to the side on which the greater probability appears. Whether it be
  • probable that a promiscuous jumble of printing letters should often
  • fall into a method and order, which should stamp on paper a coherent
  • discourse; or that a blind fortuitous concourse of atoms, not guided by
  • an understanding agent, should frequently constitute the bodies of any
  • species of animals: in these and the like cases, I think, nobody that
  • considers them can be one jot at a stand which side to take, nor at all
  • waver in his assent. Lastly, when there can be no supposition (the thing
  • in its own nature indifferent, and wholly depending upon the testimony
  • of witnesses) that there is as fair testimony against, as for the matter
  • of fact attested; which by inquiry is to be learned, v.g. whether there
  • was one thousand seven hundred years ago such a man at Rome as Julius
  • Caesar: in all such cases, I say, I think it is not in any rational
  • man's power to refuse his assent; but that it necessarily follows, and
  • closes with such probabilities. In other less clear cases, I think it is
  • in man's power to suspend his assent; and perhaps content himself with
  • the proofs he has, if they favour the opinion that suits with his
  • inclination or interest, and so stop from further search. But that a
  • man should afford his assent to that side on which the less probability
  • appears to him, seems to me utterly impracticable, and as impossible
  • as it is to believe the same thing probable and improbable at the same
  • time.
  • 16. Where it is in our Power to suspend our Judgment.
  • As knowledge is no more arbitrary than perception; so, I think, assent
  • is no more in our power than knowledge. When the agreement of any two
  • ideas appears to our minds, whether immediately or by the assistance of
  • reason, I can no more refuse to perceive, no more avoid knowing it, than
  • I can avoid seeing those objects which I turn my eyes to, and look on
  • in daylight; and what upon full examination I find the most probable, I
  • cannot deny my assent to. But, though we cannot hinder our knowledge,
  • where the agreement is once perceived; nor our assent, where the
  • probability manifestly appears upon due consideration of all the
  • measures of it: yet we can hinder both KNOWLEDGE and ASSENT, BY STOPPING
  • OUR INQUIRY, and not employing our faculties in the search of any truth.
  • If it were not so, ignorance, error, or infidelity, could not in any
  • case be a fault. Thus, in some cases we can prevent or suspend our
  • assent: but can a man versed in modern or ancient history doubt whether
  • there is such a place as Rome, or whether there was such a man as Julius
  • Caesar? Indeed, there are millions of truths that a man is not, or may
  • not think himself concerned to know; as whether our king Richard the
  • Third was crooked or no; or whether Roger Bacon was a mathematician or
  • a magician. In these and such like cases, where the assent one way or
  • other is of no importance to the interest of any one; no action, no
  • concernment of his following or depending thereon, there it is not
  • strange that the mind should give itself up to the common opinion, or
  • render itself to the first comer. These and the like opinions are of so
  • little weight and moment, that, like motes in the sun, their tendencies
  • are very rarely taken notice of. They are there, as it were, by chance,
  • and the mind lets them float at liberty. But where the mind judges that
  • the proposition has concernment in it: where the assent or not assenting
  • is thought to draw consequences of moment after it, and good and evil to
  • depend on choosing or refusing the right side, and the mind sets itself
  • seriously to inquire and examine the probability: there I think it is
  • not in our choice to take which side we please, if manifest odds appear
  • on either. The greater probability, I think, in that case will determine
  • the assent: and a man can no more avoid assenting, or taking it to be
  • true, where he perceives the greater probability, than he can avoid
  • knowing it to be true, where he perceives the agreement or disagreement
  • of any two ideas.
  • If this be so, the foundation of error will lie in wrong measures of
  • probability; as the foundation of vice in wrong measures of good.
  • 17. IV. Authority
  • The fourth and last wrong measure of probability I shall take notice of,
  • and which keeps in ignorance or error more people than all the other
  • together, is that which I have mentioned in the foregoing chapter: I
  • mean the giving up our assent to the common received opinions, either
  • of our friends or party, neighbourhood or country. How many men have no
  • other ground for their tenets, than the supposed honesty, or learning,
  • or number of those of the same profession? As if honest or bookish
  • men could not err; or truth were to be established by the vote of the
  • multitude: yet this with most men serves the turn. The tenet has had the
  • attestation of reverend antiquity; it comes to me with the passport of
  • former ages, and therefore I am secure in the reception I give it: other
  • men have been and are of the same opinion, (for that is all is said,)
  • and therefore it is reasonable for me to embrace it. A man may more
  • justifiably throw up cross and pile for his opinions, than take them up
  • by such measures. All men are liable to error, and most men are in many
  • points, by passion or interest, under temptation to it. If we could but
  • see the secret motives that influenced the men of name and learning in
  • the world, and the leaders of parties, we should not always find that it
  • was the embracing of truth for its own sake, that made them espouse the
  • doctrines they owned and maintained. This at least is certain, there is
  • not an opinion so absurd, which a man may not receive upon this ground.
  • There is no error to be named, which has not had its professors: and a
  • man shall never want crooked paths to walk in, if he thinks that he is
  • in the right way, wherever he has the footsteps of others to follow. 18.
  • Not so many men in Errors as is commonly supposed.
  • But, notwithstanding the great noise is made in the world about errors
  • and opinions, I must do mankind that right as to say, THERE ARE NOT SO
  • MANY MEN IN ERRORS AND WRONG OPINIONS AS IS COMMONLY SUPPOSED. Not that
  • I think they embrace the truth; but indeed, because concerning those
  • doctrines they keep such a stir about, they have no thought, no opinion
  • at all. For if any one should a little catechise the greatest part of
  • the partizans of most of the sects in the world, he would not find,
  • concerning those matters they are so zealous for, that they have any
  • opinions of their own: much less would he have reason to think that
  • they took them upon the examination of arguments and appearance of
  • probability. They are resolved to stick to a party that education or
  • interest has engaged them in; and there, like the common soldiers of an
  • army, show their courage and warmth as their leaders direct, without
  • ever examining, or so much as knowing, the cause they contend for. If a
  • man's life shows that he has no serious regard for religion; for what
  • reason should we think that he beats his head about the opinions of his
  • church, and troubles himself to examine the grounds of this or that
  • doctrine? It is enough for him to obey his leaders, to have his hand
  • and his tongue ready for the support of the common cause, and thereby
  • approve himself to those who can give him credit, preferment, or
  • protection in that society. Thus men become professors of, and
  • combatants for, those opinions they were never convinced of nor
  • proselytes to; no, nor ever had so much as floating in their heads: and
  • though one cannot say there are fewer improbable or erroneous opinions
  • in the world than there are, yet this is certain; there are fewer that
  • actually assent to them, and mistake them for truths, than is imagined.
  • CHAPTER XXI.
  • OF THE DIVISION OF THE SCIENCES.
  • 1. Science may be divided into three sorts.
  • All that can fall within the compass of human understanding, being
  • either, FIRST, the nature of things, as they are in themselves, their
  • relations, and their manner of operation: or, SECONDLY, that which
  • man himself ought to do, as a rational and voluntary agent, for the
  • attainment of any end, especially happiness: or, THIRDLY, the ways and
  • means whereby the knowledge of both the one and the other of these is
  • attained and communicated; I think science may be divided properly into
  • these three sorts:--
  • 2. First, Physica.
  • FIRST, The knowledge of things, as they are in their own proper beings,
  • then constitution, properties, and operations; whereby I mean not only
  • matter and body, but spirits also, which have their proper natures,
  • constitutions, and operations, as well as bodies. This, in a little more
  • enlarged sense of the word, I call [word in Greek: physika], or NATURAL
  • PHILOSOPHY. The end of this is bare speculative truth: and whatsoever
  • can afford the mind of man any such, falls under this branch, whether it
  • be God himself, angels, spirits, bodies; or any of their affections, as
  • number, and figure, &c.
  • 3. Secondly, Practica.
  • SECONDLY, [word in Greek: praktika], The skill of right applying our own
  • powers and actions, for the attainment of things good and useful. The
  • most considerable under this head is ETHICS, which is the seeking out
  • those rules and measures of human actions, which lead to happiness, and
  • the means to practise them. The end of this is not bare speculation and
  • the knowledge of truth; but right, and a conduct suitable to it.
  • 4. Thirdly, [word in Greek: Semeiotika]
  • THIRDLY, the third branch may be called [word in Greek: Semeiotika], or
  • THE DOCTRINE OF SIGNS; the most usual whereof being words, it is aptly
  • enough termed also [word in Greek: Logika], LOGIC: the business whereof
  • is to consider the nature of signs, the mind makes use of for the
  • understanding of things, or conveying its knowledge to others. For,
  • since the things the mind contemplates are none of them, besides itself,
  • present to the understanding, it is necessary that something else, as a
  • sign or representation of the thing it considers, should be present to
  • it: and these are IDEAS. And because the scene of ideas that makes one
  • man's thoughts cannot be laid open to the immediate view of another, nor
  • laid up anywhere but in the memory, a no very sure repository: therefore
  • to communicate our thoughts to one another, as well as record them for
  • our own use, signs of our ideas are also necessary: those which men
  • have found most convenient, and therefore generally make use of, are
  • ARTICULATE SOUNDS. The consideration, then, of IDEAS and WORDS as the
  • great instruments of knowledge, makes no despicable part of their
  • contemplation who would take a view of human knowledge in the whole
  • extent of it. And perhaps if they were distinctly weighed, and duly
  • considered, they would afford us another sort of logic and critic, than
  • what we have been hitherto acquainted with.
  • 5. This is the first and most general Division of the Objects of our
  • Understanding.
  • This seems to me the first and most general, as well as natural division
  • of the objects of our understanding. For a man can employ his thoughts
  • about nothing, but either, the contemplation of THINGS themselves, for
  • the discovery of truth; or about the things in his own power, which are
  • his own ACTIONS, for the attainment of his own ends; or the SIGNS the
  • mind makes use of both in the one and the other, and the right ordering
  • of them, for its clearer information. All which three, viz. THINGS, as
  • they are in themselves knowable; ACTIONS as they depend on us, in order
  • to happiness; and the right use of SIGNS in order to knowledge, being
  • TOTO COELO different, they seemed to me to be the three great provinces
  • of the intellectual world, wholly separate and distinct one from
  • another.
  • The End
  • End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of An Essay Concerning Humane
  • Understanding, Volume II., by John Locke
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