BOOK II
Of Ideas
Chapter I
Of Ideas in general, and their Original
1. Idea is the object of thinking. Every man being conscious to
himself that he thinks; and that which his mind is applied about
whilst thinking being the ideas that are there, it is past doubt
that men have in their minds several ideas,- such as are those
expressed by the words whiteness, hardness, sweetness, thinking,
motion, man, elephant, army, drunkenness, and others: it is in the
first place then to be inquired, How he comes by them?
I know it is a received doctrine, that men have native ideas, and
original characters, stamped upon their minds in their very first
being. This opinion I have at large examined already; and, I suppose
what I have said in the foregoing Book will be much more easily
admitted, when I have shown whence the understanding may get all the
ideas it has; and by what ways and degrees they may come into the
mind;- for which I shall appeal to every one's own observation and
experience.
2. All ideas come from sensation or reflection. Let us then
suppose the mind to be, as we say, white paper, void of all
characters, without any ideas:- How comes it to be furnished? Whence
comes it by that vast store which the busy and boundless fancy of
man has painted on it with an almost endless variety? Whence has it
all the materials of reason and knowledge? To this I answer, in one
word, from EXPERIENCE. In that all our knowledge is founded; and
from that it ultimately derives itself. Our observation employed
either, about external sensible objects, or about the internal
operations of our minds perceived and reflected on by ourselves, is
that which supplies our understandings with all the materials of
thinking. These two are the fountains of knowledge, from whence all
the ideas we have, or can naturally have, do spring.
3. The objects of sensation one source of ideas. First, our Senses, conversant about particular sensible objects, do convey into
the mind several distinct perceptions of things, according to those
various ways wherein those objects do affect them. And thus we come by
those ideas we have of yellow, white, heat, cold, soft, hard,
bitter, sweet, and all those which we call sensible qualities; which
when I say the senses convey into the mind, I mean, they from external
objects convey into the mind what produces there those perceptions.
This great source of most of the ideas we have, depending wholly
upon our senses, and derived by them to the understanding, I call
SENSATION.
4. The operations of our minds, the other source of them.
Secondly, the other fountain from which experience furnisheth the
understanding with ideas is,- the perception of the operations of
our own mind within us, as it is employed about the ideas it has got;-
which operations, when the soul comes to reflect on and consider, do
furnish the understanding with another set of ideas, which could not
be had from things without. And such are perception, thinking,
doubting, believing, reasoning, knowing, willing, and all the
different actings of our own minds;- which we being conscious of,
and observing in ourselves, do from these receive into our
understandings as distinct ideas as we do from bodies affecting our
senses. This source of ideas every man has wholly in himself; and
though it be not sense, as having nothing to do with external objects,
yet it is very like it, and might properly enough be called internal
sense. But as I call the other SENSATION, so I Call this REFLECTION,
the ideas it affords being such only as the mind gets by reflecting on
its own operations within itself. By reflection then, in the following
part of this discourse, I would be understood to mean, that notice
which the mind takes of its own operations, and the manner of them, by
reason whereof there come to be ideas of these operations in the
understanding. These two, I say, viz. external material things, as the
objects of SENSATION, and the operations of our own minds within, as
the objects of REFLECTION, are to me the only originals from whence
all our ideas take their beginnings. The term operations here I use in
a large sense, as comprehending not barely the actions of the mind
about its ideas, but some sort of passions arising sometimes from
them, such as is the satisfaction or uneasiness arising from any
thought.
5. All our ideas are of the one or the other of these. The
understanding seems to me not to have the least glimmering of any
ideas which it doth not receive from one of these two. External
objects furnish the mind with the ideas of sensible qualities, which
are all those different perceptions they produce in us; and the mind
furnishes the understanding with ideas of its own operations.
These, when we have taken a full survey of them, and their several
modes, combinations, and relations, we shall find to contain all our
whole stock of ideas; and that we have nothing in our minds which
did not come in one of these two ways. Let any one examine his own
thoughts, and thoroughly search into his understanding; and then let
him tell me, whether all the original ideas he has there, are any
other than of the objects of his senses, or of the operations of his
mind, considered as objects of his reflection. And how great a mass of
knowledge soever he imagines to be lodged there, he will, upon
taking a strict view, see that he has not any idea in his mind but
what one of these two have imprinted;- though perhaps, with infinite
variety compounded and enlarged by the understanding, as we shall
see hereafter.
6. Observable in children. He that attentively considers the state
of a child, at his first coming into the world, will have little
reason to think him stored with plenty of ideas, that are to be the
matter of his future knowledge. It is by degrees he comes to be
furnished with them. And though the ideas of obvious and familiar
qualities imprint themselves before the memory begins to keep a
register of time or order, yet it is often so late before some unusual
qualities come in the way, that there are few men that cannot
recollect the beginning of their acquaintance with them. And if it
were worth while, no doubt a child might be so ordered as to have
but a very few, even of the ordinary ideas, till he were grown up to a
man. But all that are born into the world, being surrounded with
bodies that perpetually and diversely affect them, variety of ideas,
whether care be taken of it or not, are imprinted on the minds of
children. Light and colours are busy at hand everywhere, when the
eye is but open; sounds and some tangible qualities fail not to
solicit their proper senses, and force an entrance to the mind;- but
yet, I think, it will be granted easily, that if a child were kept
in a place where he never saw any other but black and white till he
were a man, he would have no more ideas of scarlet or green, than he
that from his childhood never tasted an oyster, or a pine-apple, has
of those particular relishes.
7. Men are differently furnished with these, according to the
different objects they converse with. Men then come to be furnished
with fewer or more simple ideas from without, according as the objects
they converse with afford greater or less variety; and from the
operations of their minds within, according as they more or less
reflect on them. For, though he that contemplates the operations of
his mind, cannot but have plain and clear ideas of them; yet, unless
he turn his thoughts that way, and considers them attentively, he will
no more have clear and distinct ideas of all the operations of his
mind, and all that may be observed therein, than he will have all
the particular ideas of any landscape, or of the parts and motions
of a clock, who will not turn his eyes to it, and with attention
heed all the parts of it. The picture, or clock may be so placed, that
they may come in his way every day; but yet he will have but a
confused idea of all the parts they are made up of, till he applies
himself with attention, to consider them each in particular.
8. Ideas of reflection later, because they need attention. And hence
we see the reason why it is pretty late before most children get ideas
of the operations of their own minds; and some have not any very clear
or perfect ideas of the greatest part of them all their lives. Because, though they pass there continually, yet, like floating visions, they make not deep impressions enough to leave in their mind clear, distinct, lasting ideas, till the understanding turns inward upon itself, reflects on its own operations, and makes them the objects of its own contemplation. Children when they come first into it, are surrounded with a world of new things, which, by a constant solicitation of their senses, draw the mind constantly to them;
forward to take notice of new, and apt to be delighted with the
variety of changing objects. Thus the first years are usually employed
and diverted in looking abroad. Men's business in them is to
acquaint themselves with what is to be found without; and so growing
up in a constant attention to outward sensations, seldom make any
considerable reflection on what passes within them, till they come
to be of riper years; and some scarce ever at all.
9. The soul begins to have ideas when it begins to perceive. To ask,
at what time a man has first any ideas, is to ask, when he begins to
perceive;- having ideas, and perception, being the same thing. I
know it is an opinion, that the soul always thinks, and that it has
the actual perception of ideas in itself constantly, as long as it
exists; and that actual thinking is as inseparable from the soul as
actual extension is from the body; which if true, to inquire after the
beginning of a man's ideas is the same as to inquire after the
beginning of his soul. For, by this account, soul and its ideas, as
body and its extension, will begin to exist both at the same time.
10. The soul thinks not always; for this wants proofs. But whether
the soul be supposed to exist antecedent to, or coeval with, or some
time after the first rudiments of organization, or the beginnings of
life in the body, I leave to be disputed by those who have better
thought of that matter. I confess myself to have one of those dull
souls, that doth not perceive itself always to contemplate ideas;
nor can conceive it any more necessary for the soul always to think,
than for the body always to move: the perception of ideas being (as
I conceive) to the soul, what motion is to the body; not its
essence, but one of its operations. And therefore, though thinking
be supposed never so much the proper action of the soul, yet it is not
necessary to suppose that it should be always thinking, always in
action. That, perhaps, is the privilege of the infinite Author and
Preserver of all things, who "never slumbers nor sleeps;" but is not
competent to any finite being, at least not to the soul of man. We
know certainly, by experience, that we sometimes think; and thence
draw this infallible consequence,- that there is something in us
that has a power to think. But whether that substance perpetually
thinks or no, we can be no further assured than experience informs us.
For, to say that actual thinking is essential to the soul, and
inseparable from it, is to beg what is in question, and not to prove
it by reason;- which is necessary to be done, if it be not a
self-evident proposition. But whether this, "That the soul always
thinks," be a self-evident proposition, that everybody assents to at
first hearing, I appeal to mankind. It is doubted whether I thought at
all last night or no. The question being about a matter of fact, it is
begging it to bring, as a proof for it, an hypothesis, which is the
very thing in dispute: by which way one may prove anything, and it
is but supposing that all watches, whilst the balance beats, think,
and it is sufficiently proved, and past doubt, that my watch thought
all last night. But he that would not deceive himself, ought to
build his hypothesis on matter of fact, and make it out by sensible
experience, and not presume on matter of fact, because of his
hypothesis, that is, because he supposes it to be so; which way of
proving amounts to this, that I must necessarily think all last night,
because another supposes I always think, though I myself cannot
perceive that I always do so.
But men in love with their opinions may not only suppose what is
in question, but allege wrong matter of fact. How else could any one
make it an inference of mine, that a thing is not, because we are
not sensible of it in our sleep? I do not say there is no soul in a
man, because he is not sensible of it in his sleep; but I do say, he
cannot think at any time, waking or sleeping: without being sensible
of it. Our being sensible of it is not necessary to anything but to
our thoughts; and to them it is; and to them it always will be
necessary, till we can think without being conscious of it.
23. A man begins to have ideas when he first has sensation. What
sensation is. If it shall be demanded then, when a man begins to
have any ideas, I think the true answer is,- when he first has any
sensation. For, since there appear not to be any ideas in the mind
before the senses have conveyed any in, I conceive that ideas in the
understanding are coeval with sensation; which is such an impression
or motion made in some part of the body, as produces some perception
in the understanding. It is about these impressions made on our senses
by outward objects that the mind seems first to employ itself, in such
operations as we call perception, remembering, consideration,
reasoning, &c.
24. The original of all our knowledge. In time the mind comes to
reflect on its own operations about the ideas got by sensation, and
thereby stores itself with a new set of ideas, which I call ideas of
reflection. These are the impressions that are made on our senses by
outward objects that are extrinsical to the mind; and its own
operations, proceeding from powers intrinsical and proper to itself,
which, when reflected on by itself, become also objects of its
contemplation- are, as I have said, the original of all knowledge.
Thus the first capacity of human intellect is,- that the mind is
fitted to receive the impressions made on it; either through the
senses by outward objects, or by its own operations when it reflects
on them. This is the first step a man makes towards the discovery of
anything, and the groundwork whereon to build all those notions
which ever he shall have naturally in this world. All those sublime
thoughts which tower above the clouds, and reach as high as heaven
itself, take their rise and footing here: in all that great extent
wherein the mind wanders, in those remote speculations it may seem
to be elevated with, it stirs not one jot beyond those ideas which
sense or reflection have offered for its contemplation.
Chapter II
Of Simple Ideas
1. Uncompounded appearances. The better to understand the nature,
manner, and extent of our knowledge, one thing is carefully to be
observed concerning the ideas we have; and that is, that some of
them are simple and some complex.
Though the qualities that affect our senses are, in the things
themselves, so united and blended, that there is no separation, no
distance between them; yet it is plain, the ideas they produce in
the mind enter by the senses simple and unmixed. For, though the sight
and touch often take in from the same object, at the same time,
different ideas;- as a man sees at once motion and colour; the hand
feels softness and warmth in the same piece of wax: yet the simple
ideas thus united in the same subject, are as perfectly distinct as
those that come in by different senses. The coldness and hardness
which a man feels in a piece of ice being as distinct ideas in the
mind as the smell and whiteness of a lily; or as the taste of sugar,
and smell of a rose. And there is nothing can be plainer to a man than
the clear and distinct perception he has of those simple ideas; which,
being each in itself uncompounded, contains in it nothing but one
uniform appearance, or conception in the mind, and is not
distinguishable into different ideas.
2. The mind can neither make nor destroy them. These simple ideas,
the materials of all our knowledge, are suggested and furnished to the
mind only by those two ways above mentioned, viz. sensation and
reflection. When the understanding is once stored with these simple
ideas, it has the power to repeat, compare, and unite them, even to an
almost infinite variety, and so can make at pleasure new complex
ideas. But it is not in the power of the most exalted wit, or enlarged
understanding, by any quickness or variety of thought, to invent or
frame one new simple idea in the mind, not taken in by the ways before
mentioned: nor can any force of the understanding destroy those that
are there. The dominion of man, in this little world of his own
understanding being muchwhat the same as it is in the great world of
visible things; wherein his power, however managed by art and skill,
reaches no farther than to compound and divide the materials that
are made to his hand; but can do nothing towards the making the
least particle of new matter, or destroying one atom of what is
already in being. The same inability will every one find in himself,
who shall go about to fashion in his understanding one simple idea,
not received in by his senses from external objects, or by
reflection from the operations of his own mind about them. I would
have any one try to fancy any taste which had never affected his
palate; or frame the idea of a scent he had never smelt: and when he
can do this, I will also conclude that a blind man hath ideas of
colours, and a deaf man true distinct notions of sounds.
3. Only the qualities that affect the senses are imaginable. This is
the reason why- though we cannot believe it impossible to God to
make a creature with other organs, and more ways to convey into the
understanding the notice of corporeal things than those five, as
they are usually counted, which he has given to man- yet I think it is
not possible for any man to imagine any other qualities in bodies,
howsoever constituted, whereby they can be taken notice of, besides
sounds, tastes, smells, visible and tangible qualities. And had
mankind been made but with four senses, the qualities then which are
the objects of the fifth sense had been as far from our notice,
imagination, and conception, as now any belonging to a sixth, seventh,
or eighth sense can possibly be;- which, whether yet some other
creatures, in some other parts of this vast and stupendous universe,
may not have, will be a great presumption to deny. He that will not
set himself proudly at the top of all things, but will consider the
immensity of this fabric, and the great variety that is to be found in
this little and inconsiderable part of it which he has to do with, may
be apt to think that, in other mansions of it, there may be other
and different intelligent beings, of whose faculties he has as
little knowledge or apprehension as a worm shut up in one drawer of
a cabinet hath of the senses or understanding of a man; such variety
and excellency being suitable to the wisdom and power of the Maker.
I have here followed the common opinion of man's having but five
senses; though, perhaps, there may be justly counted more;- but either
supposition serves equally to my present purpose.
Chapter III
Of Simple Ideas of Sense
1. Division of simple ideas. The better to conceive the ideas we
receive from sensation, it may not be amiss for us to consider them,
in reference to the different ways whereby they make their
approaches to our minds, and make themselves perceivable by us.
First, then, There are some which come into our minds by one sense
only.
Secondly, There are others that convey themselves into the mind by
more senses than one.
Thirdly, Others that are had from reflection only.
Fourthly, There are some that make themselves way, and are suggested
to the mind by all the ways of sensation and reflection.
We shall consider them apart under these several heads.
Ideas of one sense. There are some ideas which have admittance
only through one sense, which is peculiarly adapted to receive them.
Thus light and colours, as white, red, yellow, blue; with their
several degrees or shades and mixtures, as green, scarlet, purple,
sea-green, and the rest, come in only by the eyes. All kinds of
noises, sounds, and tones, only by the ears. The several tastes and
smells, by the nose and palate. And if these organs, or the nerves
which are the conduits to convey them from without to their audience
in the brain,- the mind's presence-room (as I may so call it)- are any
of them so disordered as not to perform their functions, they have
no postern to be admitted by; no other way to bring themselves into
view, and be perceived by the understanding.
The most considerable of those belonging to the touch, are heat
and cold, and solidity: all the rest, consisting almost wholly in
the sensible configuration, as smooth and rough; or else, more or less
firm adhesion of the parts, as hard and soft, tough and brittle, are
obvious enough.
2. Few simple ideas have names. I think it will be needless to
enumerate all the particular simple ideas belonging to each sense. Nor
indeed is it possible if we would; there being a great many more of
them belonging to most of the senses than we have names for. The
variety of smells, which are as many almost, if not more, than species
of bodies in the world, do most of them want names. Sweet and stinking
commonly serve our turn for these ideas, which in effect is little
more than to call them pleasing or displeasing; though the smell of
a rose and violet, both sweet, are certainly very distinct ideas.
Nor are the different tastes, that by our palates we receive ideas of,
much better provided with names. Sweet, bitter, sour, harsh, and
salt are almost all the epithets we have to denominate that numberless
variety of relishes, which are to be found distinct, not only in
almost every sort of creatures, but in the different parts of the same
plant, fruit, or animal. The same may be said of colours and sounds. I
shall, therefore, in the account of simple ideas I am here giving,
content myself to set down only such as are most material to our
present purpose, or are in themselves less apt to be taken notice of
though they are very frequently the ingredients of our complex
ideas; amongst which, I think, I may well account solidity, which
therefore I shall treat of in the next chapter.
Chapter IV
Idea of Solidity
1. We receive this idea from touch. The idea of solidity we
receive by our touch: and it arises from the resistance which we
find in body to the entrance of any other body into the place it
possesses, till it has left it. There is no idea which we receive more
constantly from sensation than solidity. Whether we move or rest, in
what posture soever we are, we always feel something under us that
support us, and hinders our further sinking downwards; and the
bodies which we daily handle make us perceive that, whilst they remain
between them, they do, by an insurmountable force, hinder the approach
of the parts of our hands that press them. That which thus hinders the
approach of two bodies, when they are moved one towards another, I
call solidity. I will not dispute whether this acceptation of the word
solid be nearer to its original signification than that which
mathematicians use it in. It suffices that I think the common notion
of solidity will allow, if not justify, this use of it; but if any one
think it better to call it impenetrability, he has my consent. Only
I have thought the term solidity the more proper to express this idea,
not only because of its vulgar use in that sense, but also because
it carries something more of positive in it than impenetrability;
which is negative, and is perhaps more a consequence of solidity, than
solidity itself. This, of all other, seems the idea most intimately
connected with, and essential to body; so as nowhere else to be
found or imagined, but only in matter. And though our senses take no
notice of it, but in masses of matter, of a bulk sufficient to cause a
sensation in us: yet the mind, having once got this idea from such
grosser sensible bodies, traces it further, and considers it, as
well as figure, in the minutest particle of matter that can exist; and
finds it inseparably inherent in body, wherever or however modified.
2. Solidity fills space. This is the idea which belongs to body,
whereby we conceive it to fill space. The idea of which filling of
space is,- that where we imagine any space taken up by a solid
substance, we conceive it so to possess it, that it excludes all other
solid substances; and will for ever hinder any other two bodies,
that move towards one another in a straight line, from coming to touch
one another, unless it removes from between them in a line not
parallel to that which they move in. This idea of it, the bodies which
we ordinarily handle sufficiently furnish us with.
6. What solidity is. If any one ask me, What this solidity is, I
send him to his senses to inform him. Let him put a flint or a
football between his hands, and then endeavour to join them, and he
will know. If he thinks this not a sufficient explication of solidity,
what it is, and wherein it consists; I promise to tell him what it is,
and wherein it consists, when he tells me what thinking is, or wherein
it consists; or explains to me what extension or motion is, which
perhaps seems much easier. The simple ideas we have, are such as
experience teaches them us; but if, beyond that, we endeavour by words
to make them clearer in the mind, we shall succeed no better than if
we went about to clear up the darkness of a blind man's mind by
talking; and to discourse into him the ideas of light and colours. The
reason of this I shall show in another place.
Chapter V
Of Simple Ideas of Divers Senses
Ideas received both by seeing and touching. The ideas we get by more
than one sense are, of space or extension, figure, rest, and motion.
For these make perceivable impressions, both on the eyes and touch;
and we can receive and convey into our minds the ideas of the
extension, figure, motion, and rest of bodies, both by seeing and
feeling. But having occasion to speak more at large of these in
another place, I here only enumerate them.
Chapter VI
Of Simple Ideas of Reflection
1. Simple ideas are the operations of mind about its other ideas. The
mind receiving the ideas mentioned in the foregoing chapters from
without, when it turns its view inward upon itself, and observes its
own actions about those ideas it has, takes from thence other ideas,
which are as capable to be the objects of its contemplation as any
of those it received from foreign things.
2. The idea of perception, and idea of willing, we have from
reflection. The two great and principal actions of the mind, which are
most frequently considered, and which are so frequent that every one
that pleases may take notice of them in himself, are these two:-
Perception, or Thinking; and
Volition, or Willing.
The power of thinking is called the Understanding, and the power
of volition is called the Will; and these two powers or abilities in
the mind are denominated faculties.
Of some of the modes of these simple ideas of reflection, such as
are remembrance, discerning, reasoning, judging, knowledge, faith,
&c., I shall have occasion to speak hereafter.
Chapter VII
Of Simple Ideas of both Sensation and Reflection
1. Ideas of pleasure and pain. There be other simple ideas which
convey themselves into the mind by all the ways of sensation and
reflection, viz. pleasure or delight, and its opposite, pain, or
uneasiness; power; existence; unity.
2. Mix with almost all our other ideas. Delight or uneasiness, one
or other of them, join themselves to almost all our ideas both of
sensation and reflection: and there is scarce any affection of our
senses from without, any retired thought of our mind within, which
is not able to produce in us pleasure or pain. By pleasure and pain, I
would be understood to signify, whatsoever delights or molests us;
whether it arises from the thoughts of our minds, or anything
operating on our bodies. For, whether we call it satisfaction,
delight, pleasure, happiness, &c., on the one side, or uneasiness,
trouble, pain, torment, anguish, misery, &c., on the other, they are
still but different degrees of the same thing, and belong to the ideas
of pleasure and pain, delight or uneasiness; which are the names I
shall most commonly use for those two sorts of ideas.
3. As motives of our actions. The infinite wise Author of our being,
having given us the power over several parts of our bodies, to move or
keep them at rest as we think fit; and also. by the motion of them, to
move ourselves and other contiguous bodies, in which consist all the
actions of our body: having also given a power to our minds, in
several instances, to choose, amongst its ideas, which it will think
on, and to pursue the inquiry of this or that subject with
consideration and attention, to excite us to these actions of thinking
and motion that we are capable of,- has been pleased to join to
several thoughts, and several sensations a perception of delight. If
this were wholly separated from all our outward sensations, and inward
thoughts, we should have no reason to prefer one thought or action
to another; negligence to attention, or motion to rest. And so we
should neither stir our bodies, nor employ our minds, but let our
thoughts (if I may so call it) run adrift, without any direction or
design, and suffer the ideas of our minds, like unregarded shadows, to
make their appearances there, as it happened, without attending to
them. In which state man, however furnished with the faculties of
understanding and will, would be a very idle, inactive creature, and
pass his time only in a lazy, lethargic dream. It has therefore
pleased our wise Creator to annex to several objects, and the ideas
which we receive from them, as also to several of our thoughts, a
concomitant pleasure, and that in several objects, to several degrees,
that those faculties which he had endowed us with might not remain
wholly idle and unemployed by us.
7. Ideas of existence and unity. Existence and Unity are two other
ideas that are suggested to the understanding by every object without,
and every idea within. When ideas are in our minds, we consider them
as being actually there, as well as we consider things to be
actually without us;- which is, that they exist, or have existence.
And whatever we can consider as one thing, whether a real being or
idea, suggests to the understanding the idea of unity.
8. Idea of power. Power also is another of those simple ideas
which we receive from sensation and reflection. For, observing in
ourselves that we do and can think, and that we can at pleasure move
several parts of our bodies which were at rest; the effects, also,
that natural bodies are able to produce in one another, occurring
every moment to our senses,- we both these ways get the idea of power.
9. Idea of succession. Besides these there is another idea, which,
though suggested by our senses, yet is more constantly offered to us
by what passes in our minds; and that is the idea of succession. For
if we look immediately into ourselves, and reflect on what is
observable there, we shall find our ideas always, whilst we are awake,
or have any thought, passing in train, one going and another coming,
without intermission.
10. Simple ideas the materials of all our knowledge. These, if
they are not all, are at least (as I think) the most considerable of
those simple ideas which the mind has, and out of which is made all
its other knowledge; all which it receives only by the two
forementioned ways of sensation and reflection.
Nor let any one think these too narrow bounds for the capacious mind
of man to expatiate in, which takes its flight further than the stars,
and cannot be confined by the limits of the world; that extends its
thoughts often even beyond the utmost expansion of Matter, and makes
excursions into that incomprehensible Inane. I grant all this, but
desire any one to assign any simple idea which is not received from
one of those inlets before mentioned, or any complex idea not made out
of those simple ones. Nor will it be so strange to think these few
simple ideas sufficient to employ the quickest thought, or largest
capacity; and to furnish the materials of all that various
knowledge, and more various fancies and opinions of all mankind, if we
consider how many words may be made out of the various composition
of twenty-four letters; or if, going one step further, we will but
reflect on the variety of combinations that may be made with barely
one of the above-mentioned ideas, viz. number, whose stock is
inexhaustible and truly infinite: and what a large and immense field
doth extension alone afford the mathematicians?
Chapter VIII
Some further considerations concerning
our Simple Ideas of Sensation
7. Ideas in the mind, qualities in bodies. To discover the nature of
our ideas the better, and to discourse of them intelligibly, it will
be convenient to distinguish them as they are ideas or perceptions
in our minds; and as they are modifications of matter in the bodies
that cause such perceptions in us: that so we may not think (as
perhaps usually is done) that they are exactly the images and
resemblances of something inherent in the subject; most of those of
sensation being in the mind no more the likeness of something existing
without us, than the names that stand for them are the likeness of our
ideas, which yet upon hearing they are apt to excite in us.
8. Our ideas and the qualities of bodies. Whatsoever the mind
perceives in itself, or is the immediate object of perception,
thought, or understanding, that I call idea; and the power to
produce any idea in our mind, I call quality of the subject wherein
that power is. Thus a snowball having the power to produce in us the
ideas of white, cold, and round,- the power to produce those ideas
in us, as they are in the snowball, I call qualities; and as they
are sensations or perceptions in our understandings, I call them
ideas; which ideas, if I speak of sometimes as in the things
themselves, I would be understood to mean those qualities in the
objects which produce them in us.
9. Primary qualities of bodies. Qualities thus considered in
bodies are, First, such as are utterly inseparable from the body, in what
state soever it be; and such as in all the alterations and changes
it suffers, all the force can be used upon it, it constantly keeps;
and such as sense constantly finds in every particle of matter which
has bulk enough to be perceived; and the mind finds inseparable from
every particle of matter, though less than to make itself singly be
perceived by our senses: v.g. Take a grain of wheat, divide it into
two parts; each part has still solidity, extension, figure, and
mobility: divide it again, and it retains still the same qualities;
and so divide it on, till the parts become insensible; they must
retain still each of them all those qualities. For division (which
is all that a mill, or pestle, or any other body, does upon another,
in reducing it to insensible parts) can never take away either
solidity, extension, figure, or mobility from any body, but only makes
two or more distinct separate masses of matter, of that which was
but one before; all which distinct masses, reckoned as so many
distinct bodies, after division, make a certain number. These I call
original or primary qualities of body, which I think we may observe to
produce simple ideas in us, viz. solidity, extension, figure, motion
or rest, and number.
10. Secondary qualities of bodies. Secondly, such qualities which in
truth are nothing in the objects themselves but power to produce
various sensations in us by their primary qualities, i.e. by the bulk,
figure, texture, and motion of their insensible parts, as colours,
sounds, tastes, &c. These I call secondary qualities. To these might
be added a third sort, which are allowed to be barely powers; though
they are as much real qualities in the subject as those which I, to
comply with the common way of speaking, call qualities, but for
distinction, secondary qualities. For the power in fire to produce a
new colour, or consistency, in wax or clay,- by its primary qualities,
is as much a quality in fire, as the power it has to produce in me a
new idea or sensation of warmth or burning, which I felt not
before,- by the same primary qualities, viz. the bulk, texture, and
motion of its insensible parts.
11. How bodies produce ideas in us. The next thing to be
considered is, how bodies produce ideas in us; and that is
manifestly by impulse, the only way which we can conceive bodies to
operate in.
12. By motions, external, and in our organism. If then external
objects be not united to our minds when they produce ideas therein;
and yet we perceive these original qualities in such of them as singly
fall under our senses, it is evident that some motion must be thence
continued by our nerves, or animal spirits, by some parts of our
bodies, to the brains or the seat of sensation, there to produce in
our minds the particular ideas we have of them. And since the
extension, figure, number, and motion of bodies of an observable
bigness, may be perceived at a distance by the sight, it is evident
some singly imperceptible bodies must come from them to the eyes,
and thereby convey to the brain some motion; which produces these
ideas which we have of them in us.
13. How secondary qualities produce their ideas. After the same
manner, that the ideas of these original qualities are produced in us,
we may conceive that the ideas of secondary qualities are also
produced, viz. by the operation of insensible particles on our senses.
For, it being manifest that there are bodies and good store of bodies,
each whereof are so small, that we cannot by any of our senses
discover either their bulk, figure, or motion,- as is evident in the
particles of the air and water, and others extremely smaller than
those; perhaps as much smaller than the particles of air and water, as
the particles of air and water are smaller than peas or
hail-stones;- let us suppose at present that the different motions and
figures, bulk and number, of such particles, affecting the several
organs of our senses, produce in us those different sensations which
we have from the colours and smells of bodies; v.g. that a violet,
by the impulse of such insensible particles of matter, of peculiar
figures and bulks, and in different degrees and modifications of their
motions, causes the ideas of the blue colour, and sweet scent of
that flower to be produced in our minds. It being no more impossible
to conceive that God should annex such ideas to such motions, with
which they have no similitude, than that he should annex the idea of
pain to the motion of a piece of steel dividing our flesh, with
which that idea hath no resemblance.
14. They depend on the primary qualities. What I have said
concerning colours and smells may be understood also of tastes and
sounds, and other the like sensible qualities; which, whatever reality
we by mistake attribute to them, are in truth nothing in the objects
themselves, but powers to produce various sensations in us; and depend
on those primary qualities, viz. bulk, figure, texture, and motion
of parts as I have said.
15. Ideas of primary qualities are resemblances; of secondary,
not. From whence I think it easy to draw this observation,- that the
ideas of primary qualities of bodies are resemblances of them, and
their patterns do really exist in the bodies themselves, but the ideas
produced in us by these secondary qualities have no resemblance of
them at all. There is nothing like our ideas, existing in the bodies
themselves. They are, in the bodies we denominate from them, only a
power to produce those sensations in us: and what is sweet, blue, or
warm in idea, is but the certain bulk, figure, and motion of the
insensible parts, in the bodies themselves, which we call so.
16. Examples. Flame is denominated hot and light; snow, white and
cold; and manna, white and sweet, from the ideas they produce in us.
Which qualities are commonly thought to be the same in those bodies
that those ideas are in us, the one the perfect resemblance of the
other, as they are in a mirror, and it would by most men be judged
very extravagant if one should say otherwise. And yet he that will
consider that the same fire that, at one distance produces in us the
sensation of warmth, does, at a nearer approach, produce in us the far
different sensation of pain, ought to bethink himself what reason he
has to say- that this idea of warmth, which was produced in him by the
fire, is actually in the fire; and his idea of pain, which the same
fire produced in him the same way, is not in the fire. Why are
whiteness and coldness in snow, and pain not, when it produces the one
and the other idea in us; and can do neither, but by the bulk, figure,
number, and motion of its solid parts?
17. The ideas of the primary alone really exist. The particular
bulk, number, figure, and motion of the parts of fire or snow are
really in them,- whether any one's senses perceive them or no: and
therefore they may be called real qualities, because they really exist
in those bodies. But light, heat, whiteness, or coldness, are no
more really in them than sickness or pain is in manna. Take away the
sensation of them; let not the eyes see light or colours, nor the ears
hear sounds; let the palate not taste, nor the nose smell, and all
colours, tastes, odours, and sounds, as they are such particular
ideas, vanish and cease, and are reduced to their causes, i.e. bulk,
figure, and motion of parts.
18. The secondary exist in things only as modes of the primary. A
piece of manna of a sensible bulk is able to produce in us the idea of
a round or square figure; and by being removed from one place to
another, the idea of motion. This idea of motion represents it as it
really is in manna moving: a circle or square are the same, whether in
idea or existence, in the mind or in the manna. And this, both
motion and figure, are really in the manna, whether we take notice
of them or no: this everybody is ready to agree to. Besides, manna, by
tie bulk, figure, texture, and motion of its parts, has a power to
produce the sensations of sickness, and sometimes of acute pains or
gripings in us. That these ideas of sickness and pain are not in the
manna, but effects of its operations on us, and are nowhere when we
feel them not; this also every one readily agrees to. And yet men
are hardly to be brought to think that sweetness and whiteness are not
really in manna; which are but the effects of the operations of manna,
by the motion, size, and figure of its particles, on the eyes and
palate: as the pain and sickness caused by manna are confessedly
nothing but the effects of its operations on the stomach and guts,
by the size, motion, and figure of its insensible parts, (for by
nothing else can a body operate, as has been proved): as if it could
not operate on the eyes and palate, and thereby produce in the mind
particular distinct ideas, which in itself it has not, as well as we
allow it can operate on the guts and stomach, and thereby produce
distinct ideas, which in itself it has not. These ideas, being all
effects of the operations of manna on several parts of our bodies,
by the size, figure number, and motion of its parts;- why those
produced by the eyes and palate should rather be thought to be
really in the manna, than those produced by the stomach and guts; or
why the pain and sickness, ideas that are the effect of manna,
should be thought to be nowhere when they are not felt; and yet the
sweetness and whiteness, effects of the same manna on other parts of
the body, by ways equally as unknown, should be thought to exist in
the manna, when they are not seen or tasted, would need some reason to
explain.
19. Examples. Let us consider the red and white colours in porphyry.
Hinder light from striking on it, and its colours vanish; it no longer
produces any such ideas in us: upon the return of light it produces
these appearances on us again. Can any one think any real
alterations are made in the porphyry by the presence or absence of
light; and that those ideas of whiteness and redness are really in
porphyry in. the light, when it is plain it has no colour in the dark?
It has, indeed, such a configuration of particles, both night and day,
as are apt, by the rays of light rebounding from some parts of that
hard stone, to produce in us the idea of redness, and from others
the idea of whiteness; but whiteness or redness are not in it at any
time, but such a texture that hath the power to produce such a
sensation in us.
20. Pound an almond, and the clear white colour will be altered into
a dirty one, and the sweet taste into an oily one. What real
alteration can the beating of the pestle make in any body, but an
alteration of the texture of it?
21. Explains how water felt as cold by one hand may be warm to the
other. Ideas being thus distinguished and understood, we may be able
to give an account how the same water, at the same time, may produce
the idea of cold by one hand and of heat by the other: whereas it is
impossible that the same water, if those ideas were really in it,
should at the same time be both hot and cold. For, if we imagine
warmth, as it is in our hands, to be nothing but a certain sort and
degree of motion in the minute particles of our nerves or animal
spirits, we may understand how it is possible that the same water may,
at the same time, produce the sensations of heat in one hand and
cold in the other; which yet figure never does, that never
producing- the idea of a square by one hand which has produced the
idea of a globe by another. But if the sensation of heat and cold be
nothing but the increase or diminution of the motion of the minute
parts of our bodies, caused by the corpuscles of any other body, it is
easy to be understood, that if that motion be greater in one hand than
in the other; if a body be applied to the two hands, which has in
its minute particles a greater motion than in those of one of the
hands, and a less than in those of the other, it will increase the
motion of the one hand and lessen it in the other; and so cause the
different sensations of heat and cold that depend thereon.
23. Three sorts of qualities in bodies. The qualities, then, that
are in bodies, rightly considered, are of three sorts:-
First, The bulk, figure, number, situation, and motion or rest of
their solid parts. Those are in them, whether we perceive them or not;
and when they are of that size that we can discover them, we have by
these an idea of the thing as it is in itself; as is plain in
artificial things. These I call primary qualities.
Secondly, The power that is in any body, by reason of its insensible
primary qualities, to operate after a peculiar manner on any of our
senses, and thereby produce in us the different ideas of several
colours, sounds, smells, tastes, &c. These are usually called sensible
qualities.
Thirdly, The power that is in any body, by reason of the
particular constitution of its primary qualities, to make such a
change in the bulk, figure, texture, and motion of another body, as to
make it operate on our senses differently from what it did before.
Thus the sun has a power to make wax white, and fire to make lead
fluid. These are usually called powers.
The first of these, as has been said, I think may be properly called
real, original, or primary qualities; because they are in the things
themselves, whether they are perceived or not: and upon their
different modifications it is that the secondary qualities depend.
The other two are only powers to act differently upon other
things: which powers result from the different modifications of
those primary qualities.
24. The first are resemblances; the second thought to be
resemblances, but are not; the third neither are nor are thought so.
But, though the two latter sorts of qualities are powers barely, and
nothing but powers, relating to several other bodies, and resulting
from the different modifications of the original qualities, yet they
are generally otherwise thought of. For the second sort, viz, the
powers to produce several ideas in us, by our senses, are looked
upon as real qualities in the things thus affecting us: but the
third sort are called and esteemed barely powers. v.g. The idea of
heat or light, which we receive by our eyes, or touch, from the sun,
are commonly thought real qualities existing in the sun, and something
more than mere powers in it. But when we consider the sun in reference
to wax, which it melts or blanches, we look on the whiteness and
softness produced in the wax, not as qualities in the sun, but effects
produced by powers in it. Whereas, if rightly considered, these
qualities of light and warmth, which are perceptions in me when I am
warmed or enlightened by the sun, are no otherwise in the sun, than
the changes made in the wax, when it is blanched or melted, are in the
sun. They are all of them equally powers in the sun, depending on
its primary qualities; whereby it is able, in the one case, so to
alter the bulk, figure, texture, or motion of some of the insensible
parts of my eyes or hands, as thereby to produce in me the idea of
light or heat; and in the other, it is able so to alter the bulk,
figure, texture, or motion of the insensible parts of the wax, as to
make them fit to produce in me the distinct ideas of white and fluid.
Chapter IX. Of Perception
1. Perception the first simple idea of reflection. PERCEPTION, as it
is the first faculty of the mind exercised about our ideas; so it is
the first and simplest idea we have from reflection, and is by some
called thinking in general. Though thinking, in the propriety of the
English tongue, signifies that sort of operation in the mind about its
ideas, wherein the mind is active; where it, with some degree of
voluntary attention, considers anything. For in bare naked perception,
the mind is, for the most part, only passive; and what it perceives,
it cannot avoid perceiving.
2. Reflection alone can give us the idea of what perception is. What
perception is, every one will know better by reflecting on what he
does himself, when he sees, hears, feels, &c., or thinks, than by
any discourse of mine. Whoever reflects on what passes in his own mind
cannot miss it. And if he does not reflect, all the words in the world
cannot make him have any notion of it.
3. Arises in sensation only when the mind notices the organic
impression. This is certain, that whatever alterations are made in the
body, if they reach not the mind; whatever impressions are made on the
outward parts, if they are not taken notice of within, there is no
perception. Fire may burn our bodies with no other effect than it does
a billet, unless the motion be continued to the brain, and there the
sense of heat, or idea of pain, be produced in the mind; wherein
consists actual perception.
4. Impulse on the organ insufficient. How often may a man observe in
himself, that whilst his mind is intently employed in the contemplation of some objects, and curiously surveying some ideas that are there, it takes no notice of impressions of sounding bodies made upon the organ of hearing, with the same alteration that uses to be for the producing the idea of sound? A sufficient impulse there may be on the organ; but it not reaching the observation of the mind, there follows no perception: and though the motion that uses to produce the idea of sound be made in the ear, yet no sound is heard. Want of sensation, in this case, is not through any defect in the organ, or that the man's ears are less affected than at other times when he does hear: but that which uses to produce the idea, though conveyed in by the usual organ, not being taken notice of in the understanding, and so imprinting no idea in the mind, there follows no sensation. So that wherever there is sense or perception, there some idea is actually produced, and present in the understanding.
8. Sensations often changed by the judgment. We are further to
consider concerning perception, that the ideas we receive by sensation
are often, in grown people, altered by the judgment, without our
taking notice of it. When we set before our eyes a round globe of
any uniform colour, v.g. gold, alabaster, or jet, it is certain that
the idea thereby imprinted on our mind is of a flat circle,
variously shadowed, with several degrees of light and brightness
coming to our eyes. But we having, by use, been accustomed to perceive
what kind of appearance convex bodies are wont to make in us; what
alterations are made in the reflections of light by the difference
of the sensible figures of bodies;- the judgment presently, by an
habitual custom, alters the appearances into their causes. So that
from that which is truly variety of shadow or colour, collecting the
figure, it makes it pass for a mark of figure, and frames to itself
the perception of a convex figure and an uniform colour; when the idea
we receive from thence is only a plane variously coloured, as is
evident in painting. To which purpose I shall here insert a problem of
that very ingenious and studious promoter of real knowledge, the
learned and worthy Mr. Molyneux, which he was pleased to send me in
a letter some months since; and it is this:- "Suppose a man born
blind, and now adult, and taught by his touch to distinguish between a
cube and a sphere of the same metal, and nighly of the same bigness,
so as to tell, when he felt one and the other, which is the cube,
which the sphere. Suppose then the cube and sphere placed on a
table, and the blind man be made to see: quaere, whether by his sight,
before he touched them, he could now distinguish and tell which is the
globe, which the cube?" To which the acute and judicious proposer
answers, "Not. For, though he has obtained the experience of how a
globe, how a cube affects his touch, yet he has not yet obtained the
experience, that what affects his touch so or so, must affect his
sight so or so; or that a protuberant angle in the cube, that
pressed his hand unequally, shall appear to his eye as it does in
the cube."- I agree with this thinking gentleman, whom I am proud to
call my friend, in his answer to this problem; and am of opinion
that the blind man, at first sight, would not be able with certainty
to say which was the globe, which the cube, whilst he only saw them;
though he could unerringly name them by his touch, and certainly
distinguish them by the difference of their figures felt. This I
have set down, and leave with my reader, as an occasion for him to
consider how much he may be beholden to experience, improvement, and
acquired notions, where he thinks he had not the least use of, or help
from them. And the rather, because this observing gentleman further
adds, that "having, upon the occasion of my book, proposed this to
divers very ingenious men, he hardly ever met with one that at first
gave the answer to it which he thinks true, till by hearing his
reasons they were convinced."
15. Perception the inlet of all materials of knowledge. Perception
then being the first step and degree towards knowledge, and the
inlet of all the materials of it; the fewer senses any man, as well as
any other creature, hath; and the fewer and duller the impressions are
that are made by them, and the duller the faculties are that are
employed about them,- the more remote are they from that knowledge
which is to be found in some men. But this being in great variety of
degrees (as may be perceived amongst men) cannot certainly be
discovered in the several species of animals, much less in their
particular individuals. It suffices me only to have remarked here,-
that perception is the first operation of all our intellectual
faculties, and the inlet of all knowledge in our minds. And I am apt
too to imagine, that it is perception, in the lowest degree of it,
which puts the boundaries between animals and the inferior ranks of
creatures. But this I mention only as my conjecture by the by; it
being indifferent to the matter in hand which way the learned shall
determine of it.
Chapter X. Of Retention
1. Contemplation. The next faculty of the mind, whereby it makes a
further progress towards knowledge, is that which I call retention; or
the keeping of those simple ideas which from sensation or reflection
it hath received. This is done two ways.
First, by keeping the idea which is brought into it, for some time
actually in view, which is called contemplation.
2. Memory. The other way of retention is, the power to revive
again in our minds those ideas which, after imprinting, have
disappeared, or have been as it were laid aside out of sight. And thus
we do, when we conceive heat or light, yellow or sweet,- the object
being removed. This is memory, which is as it were the storehouse of
our ideas. For, the narrow mind of man not being capable of having
many ideas under view and consideration at once, it was necessary to
have a repository, to lay up those ideas which, at another time, it
might have use of. But, our ideas being nothing but actual perceptions
in the mind, which cease to be anything when there is no perception of
them; this laying up of our ideas in the repository of the memory
signifies no more but this,- that the mind has a power in many cases
to revive perceptions which it has once had, with this additional
perception annexed to them, that it has had them before. And in this
sense it is that our ideas are said to be in our memories, when indeed
they are actually nowhere;- but only there is an ability in the mind
when it will to revive them again, and as it were paint them anew on
itself, though some with more, some with less difficulty; some more
lively, and others more obscurely. And thus it is, by the assistance
of this faculty, that we are said to have all those ideas in our
understandings which, though we do not actually contemplate, yet we
can bring in sight, and make appear again, and be the objects of our
thoughts, without the help of those sensible qualities which first
imprinted them there.
Chapter XI
Of Discerning, and other operations of the Mind
1. No knowledge without discernment. Another faculty we may take
notice of in our minds is that of discerning and distinguishing
between the several ideas it has. It is not enough to have a
confused perception of something in general. Unless the mind had a
distinct perception of different objects and their qualities, it would
be capable of very little knowledge, though the bodies that affect
us were as busy about us as they are now, and the mind were
continually employed in thinking. On this faculty of distinguishing
one thing from another depends the evidence and certainty of
several, even very general, propositions, which have passed for innate
truths;- because men, overlooking the true cause why those
propositions find universal assent, impute it wholly to native uniform
impressions; whereas it in truth depends upon this clear discerning
faculty of the mind, whereby it perceives two ideas to be the same, or
different. But of this more hereafter.
4. Comparing. The COMPARING them one with another, in respect of
extent, degrees, time, place, or any other circumstances, is another
operation of the mind about its ideas, and is that upon which
depends all that large tribe of ideas comprehended under relation;
which, of how vast an extent it is, I shall have occasion to
consider hereafter.
6. Compounding. The next operation we may observe in the mind
about its ideas is COMPOSITION; whereby it puts together several of
those simple ones it has received from sensation and reflection, and
combines them into complex ones. Under this of composition may be
reckoned also that of enlarging, wherein, though the composition
does not so much appear as in more complex ones, yet it is
nevertheless a putting several ideas together, though of the same
kind. Thus, by adding several units together, we make the idea of a
dozen; and putting together the repeated ideas of several perches,
we frame that of a furlong.
8. Naming. When children have, by repeated sensations, got ideas
fixed in their memories, they begin by degrees to learn the use of
signs. And when they have got the skill to apply the organs of
speech to the framing of articulate sounds, they begin to make use
of words, to signify their ideas to others. These verbal signs they
sometimes borrow from others, and sometimes make themselves, as one
may observe among the new and unusual names children often give to
things in the first use of language.
9. Abstraction. The use of words then being to stand as outward
marks of our internal ideas, and those ideas being taken from
particular things, if every particular idea that we take in should
have a distinct name, names must be endless. To prevent this, the mind
makes the particular ideas received from particular objects to
become general; which is done by considering them as they are in the
mind such appearances,- separate from all other existences, and the
circumstances of real existence, as time, place, or any other
concomitant ideas. This is called ABSTRACTION, whereby ideas taken
from particular beings become general representatives of all of the
same kind; and their names general names, applicable to whatever
exists conformable to such abstract ideas. Such precise, naked
appearances in the mind, without considering how, whence, or with what
others they came there, the understanding lays up (with names commonly
annexed to them) as the standards to rank real existences into
sorts, as they agree with these patterns, and to denominate them
accordingly. Thus the same colour being observed to-day in chalk or
snow, which the mind yesterday received from milk, it considers that
appearance alone, makes it a representative of all of that kind; and
having given it the name whiteness, it by that sound signifies the
same quality wheresoever to be imagined or met with; and thus
universals, whether ideas or terms, are made.
15. The true beginning of human knowledge. And thus I have given a
short, and, I think, true history of the first beginnings of human
knowledge;- whence the mind has its first objects; and by what steps
it makes its progress to the laying in and storing up those ideas, out
of which is to be framed all the knowledge it is capable of: wherein I
must appeal to experience and observation whether I am in the right:
the best way to come to truth being to examine things as really they
are, and not to conclude they are, as we fancy of ourselves, or have
been taught by others to imagine.
17. Dark room. I pretend not to teach, but to inquire; and therefore
cannot but confess here again,- that external and internal sensation
are the only passages I can find of knowledge to the understanding.
These alone, as far as I can discover, are the windows by which
light is let into this dark room. For, methinks, the understanding
is not much unlike a closet wholly shut from light, with only some
little openings left, to let in external visible resemblances, or
ideas of things without: would the pictures coming into such a dark
room but stay there, and lie so orderly as to be found upon
occasion, it would very much resemble the understanding of a man, in
reference to all objects of sight, and the ideas of them.
These are my guesses concerning the means whereby the
understanding comes to have and retain simple ideas, and the modes
of them, with some other operations about them.
I proceed now to examine some of these simple ideas and their
modes a little more particularly.
Chapter XII
Of Complex Ideas
1. Made by the mind out of simple ones. We have hitherto
considered those ideas, in the reception whereof the mind is only
passive, which are those simple ones received from sensation and
reflection before mentioned, whereof the mind cannot make one to
itself, nor have any idea which does not wholly consist of them. But
as the mind is wholly passive in the reception of all its simple
ideas, so it exerts several acts of its own, whereby out of its simple
ideas, as the materials and foundations of the rest, the others are
framed. The acts of the mind, wherein it exerts its power over its
simple ideas, are chiefly these three: (1) Combining several simple
ideas into one compound one; and thus all complex ideas are made.
(2) The second is bringing two ideas, whether simple or complex,
together, and setting them by one another, so as to take a view of
them at once, without uniting them into one; by which way it gets
all its ideas of relations. (3) The third is separating them from
all other ideas that accompany them in their real existence: this is
called abstraction: and thus all its general ideas are made. This
shows man's power, and its ways of operation, to be much the same in
the material and intellectual world. For the materials in both being
such as he has no power over, either to make or destroy, all that
man can do is either to unite them together, or to set them by one
another, or wholly separate them. I shall here begin with the first of
these in the consideration of complex ideas, and come to the other two
in their due places. As simple ideas are observed to exist in
several combinations united together, so the mind has a power to
consider several of them united together as one idea; and that not
only as they are united in external objects, but as itself has
joined them together. Ideas thus made up of several simple ones put
together, I call complex;- such as are beauty, gratitude, a man, an
army, the universe; which, though complicated of various simple ideas,
or complex ideas made up of simple ones, yet are, when the mind
pleases, considered each by itself, as one entire thing, and signified
by one name.
2. Made voluntarily. In this faculty of repeating and joining
together its ideas, the mind has great power in varying and
multiplying the objects of its thoughts, infinitely beyond what
sensation or reflection furnished it with: but all this still confined
to those simple ideas which it received from those two sources, and
which are the ultimate materials of all its compositions. For simple
ideas are all from things themselves, and of these the mind can have
no more, nor other than what are suggested to it. It can have no other
ideas of sensible qualities than what come from without by the senses;
nor any ideas of other kind of operations of a thinking substance,
than what it finds in itself But when it has once got these simple
ideas, it is not confined barely to observation, and what offers
itself from without; it can, by its own power, put together those
ideas it has, and make new complex ones, which it never received so
united.
3. Complex ideas are either of modes, substances, or relations.
COMPLEX IDEAS, however compounded and decompounded, though their number be infinite, and the variety endless, wherewith they fill and
entertain the thoughts of men; yet I think they may be all reduced
under these three heads:-
1. MODES.
2. SUBSTANCES.
3. RELATIONS.
4. Ideas of modes. First, Modes I call such complex ideas which,
however compounded, contain not in them the supposition of
subsisting by themselves, but are considered as dependences on, or
affections of substances;- such as are the ideas signified by the
words triangle, gratitude, murder, &c. And if in this I use the word
mode in somewhat a different sense from its ordinary signification,
I beg pardon; it being unavoidable in discourses, differing from the
ordinary received notions, either to make new words, or to use old
words in somewhat a new signification; the later whereof, in our
present case, is perhaps the more tolerable of the two.
5. Simple and mixed modes of simple ideas. Of these modes, there are
two sorts which deserve distinct consideration:
First, there are some which are only variations, or different
combinations of the same simple idea, without the mixture of any
other;- as a dozen, or score; which are nothing but the ideas of so
many distinct units added together, and these I call simple modes as
being contained within the bounds of one simple idea.
Secondly, there are others compounded of simple ideas of several
kinds, put together to make one complex one;- v.g. beauty,
consisting of a certain composition of colour and figure, causing
delight to the beholder; theft, which being the concealed change of
the possession of anything, without the consent of the proprietor,
contains, as is visible, a combination of several ideas of several
kinds: and these I call mixed modes.
6. Ideas of substances, single or collective. Secondly, the ideas of
Substances are such combinations of simple ideas as are taken to
represent distinct particular things subsisting by themselves; the
supposed or confused idea of substance, such as it is, is always the
first and chief Thus if to substance be joined the simple idea of a
certain dull whitish colour, with certain degrees of weight, hardness,
ductility, and fusibility, we have the idea of lead; and a combination
of the ideas of a certain sort of figure, with the powers of motion,
thought and reasoning, joined to substance, the ordinary idea of a
man. Now of substances also, there are two sorts of ideas:- one of
single substances, as they exist separately, as of a man or a sheep;
the other of several of those put together, as an army of men, or
flock of sheep- which collective ideas of several substances thus
put together are as much each of them one single idea as that of a man
or an unit.
7. Ideas of relation. Thirdly, the last sort of complex ideas is
that we call Relation, which consists in the consideration and
comparing one idea with another.
Of these several kinds we shall treat in their order.
Chapter XIII
Complex Ideas of Simple Modes:-
and First, of the Simple Modes of the Idea of Space
1. Simple modes of simple ideas. Though in the foregoing part I have
often mentioned simple ideas, which are truly the materials of all our
knowledge; yet having treated of them there, rather in the way that
they come into the mind, than as distinguished from others more
compounded, it will not be perhaps amiss to take a view of some of
them again under this consideration, and examine those different
modifications of the same idea; which the mind either finds in
things existing, or is able to make within itself without the help
of any extrinsical object, or any foreign suggestion.
Those modifications of any one simple idea (which, as has been said,
I call simple modes) are as perfectly different and distinct ideas
in the mind as those of the greatest distance or contrariety. For
the idea of two is as distinct from that of one, as blueness from
heat, or either of them from any number: and yet it is made up only of
that simple idea of an unit repeated; and repetitions of this kind
joined together make those distinct simple modes, of a dozen, a gross,
a million.
Chapter XXI
Of Power
1. This idea how got. The mind being every day informed, by the
senses, of the alteration of those simple ideas it observes in
things without; and taking notice how one comes to an end, and
ceases to be, and another begins to exist which was not before;
reflecting also on what passes within itself, and observing a constant
change of its ideas, sometimes by the impression of outward objects on
the senses, and sometimes by the determination of its own choice;
and concluding from what it has so constantly observed to have been,
that the like changes will for the future be made in the same
things, by like agents, and by the like ways,- considers in one
thing the possibility of having any of its simple ideas changed, and
in another the possibility of making that change; and so comes by that
idea which we call power. Thus we say, Fire has a power to melt
gold, i.e. to destroy the consistency of its insensible parts, and
consequently its hardness, and make it fluid; and gold has a power
to be melted; that the sun has a power to blanch wax, and wax a
power to be blanched by the sun, whereby the yellowness is
destroyed, and whiteness made to exist in its room. In which, and
the like cases, the power we consider is in reference to the change of
perceivable ideas. For we cannot observe any alteration to be made in,
or operation upon anything, but by the observable change of its
sensible ideas; nor conceive any alteration to be made, but by
conceiving a change of some of its ideas.
2. Power, active and passive. Power thus considered is two-fold,
viz. as able to make, or able to receive any change. The one may be
called active, and the other passive power. Whether matter be not
wholly destitute of active power, as its author, God, is truly above
all passive power; and whether the intermediate state of created
spirits be not that alone which is capable of both active and
passive power, may be worth consideration. I shall not now enter
into that inquiry, my present business being not to search into the
original of power, but how we come by the idea of it. But since active
powers make so great a part of our complex ideas of natural
substances, (as we shall see hereafter,) and I mention them as such,
according to common apprehension; yet they being not, perhaps, so
truly active powers as our hasty thoughts are apt to represent them, I
judge it not amiss, by this intimation, to direct our minds to the
consideration of God and spirits, for the clearest idea of active
power.
4. The clearest idea of active power had from spirit. We are
abundantly furnished with the idea of passive power by almost all
sorts of sensible things. In most of them we cannot avoid observing
their sensible qualities, nay, their very substances, to be in a
continual flux. And therefore with reason we look on them as liable
still to the same change. Nor have we of active power (which is the
more proper signification of the word power) fewer instances. Since
whatever change is observed, the mind must collect a power somewhere
able to make that change, as well as a possibility in the thing itself
to receive it. But yet, if we will consider it attentively, bodies, by
our senses, do not afford us so clear and distinct an idea of active
power, as we have from reflection on the operations of our minds.
For all power relating to action, and there being but two sorts of
action whereof we have an idea, viz. thinking and motion, let us
consider whence we have the clearest ideas of the powers which produce
these actions. (1) Of thinking, body affords us no idea at all; it
is only from reflection that we have that. (2) Neither have we from
body any idea of the beginning of motion. A body at rest affords us no
idea of any active power to move; and when it is set in motion itself,
that motion is rather a passion than an action in it. For, when the
ball obeys the motion of a billiard-stick, it is not any action of the
ball, but bare passion. Also when by impulse it sets another ball in
motion that lay in its way, it only communicates the motion it had
received from another, and loses in itself so much as the other
received: which gives us but a very obscure idea of an active power of
moving in body, whilst we observe it only to transfer, but not produce
any motion. For it is but a very obscure idea of power which reaches
not the production of the action, but the continuation of the passion.
For so is motion in a body impelled by another; the continuation of
the alteration made in it from rest to motion being little more an
action, than the continuation of the alteration of its figure by the
same blow is an action. The idea of the beginning of motion we have
only from reflection on what passes in ourselves; where we find by
experience, that, barely by willing it, barely by a thought of the
mind, we can move the parts of our bodies, which were before at
rest. So that it seems to me, we have, from the observation of the
operation of bodies by our senses, but a very imperfect obscure idea
of active power; since they afford us not any idea in themselves of
the power to begin any action, either motion or thought.
5. Will and understanding two powers in mind or spirit. This, at
least, I think evident,- That we find in ourselves a power to begin or
forbear, continue or end several actions of our minds, and motions
of our bodies, barely by a thought or preference of the mind ordering,
or as it were commanding, the doing or not doing such or such a
particular action. This power which the mind has thus to order the
consideration of any idea, or the forbearing to consider it; or to
prefer the motion of any part of the body to its rest, and vice versa,
in any particular instance, is that which we call the Will. The actual
exercise of that power, by directing any particular action, or its
forbearance, is that which we call volition or willing. The
forbearance of that action, consequent to such order or command of the
mind, is called voluntary. And whatsoever action is performed
without such a thought of the mind, is called involuntary. The power
of perception is that which we call the Understanding. Perception,
which we make the act of the understanding, is of three sorts:- 1. The
perception of ideas in our minds. 2. The perception of the
signification of signs. 3. The perception of the connexion or
repugnancy, agreement or disagreement, that there is between any of
our ideas. All these are attributed to the understanding, or
perceptive power, though it be the two latter only that use allows
us to say we understand.
7. Whence the ideas of liberty and necessity. Every one, I think,
finds in himself a power to begin or forbear, continue or put an end
to several actions in himself. From the consideration of the extent of
this power of the mind over the actions of the man, which everyone
finds in himself, arise the ideas of liberty and necessity.
8. Liberty, what. All the actions that we have any idea of
reducing themselves, as has been said, to these two, viz. thinking and
motion; so far as a man has power to think or not to think, to move or
not to move, according to the preference or direction of his own mind,
so far is a man free. Wherever any performance or forbearance are
not equally in a man's power; wherever doing or not doing will not
equally follow upon the preference of his mind directing it, there
he is not free, though perhaps the action may be voluntary. So that
the idea of liberty is, the idea of a power in any agent to do or
forbear any particular action, according to the determination or
thought of the mind, whereby either of them is preferred to the other:
where either of them is not in the power of the agent to be produced
by him according to his volition, there he is not at liberty; that
agent is under necessity. So that liberty cannot be where there is
no thought, no volition, no will; but there may be thought, there
may be will, there may be volition, where there is no liberty. A
little consideration of an obvious instance or two may make this
clear.
9. Supposes understanding and will. A tennis-ball, whether in motion
by the stroke of a racket, or lying still at rest, is not by any one
taken to be a free agent. If we inquire into the reason, we shall find
it is because we conceive not a tennis-ball to think, and consequently
not to have any volition, or preference of motion to rest, or vice
versa; and therefore has not liberty, is not a free agent; but all its
both motion and rest come under our idea of necessary, and are so
called. Likewise a man falling into the water, (a bridge breaking
under him), has not herein liberty, is not a free agent. For though he
has volition, though he prefers his not falling to falling; yet the
forbearance of that motion not being in his power, the stop or
cessation of that motion follows not upon his volition; and
therefore therein he is not free. So a man striking himself, or his
friend, by a convulsive motion of his arm, which it is not in his
power, by volition or the direction of his mind, to stop or forbear,
nobody thinks he has in this liberty; every one pities him, as
acting by necessity and constraint.
10. Belongs not to volition. Again: suppose a man be carried, whilst
fast asleep, into a room where is a person he longs to see and speak
with; and be there locked fast in, beyond his power to get out: he
awakes, and is glad to find himself in so desirable company, which
he stays willingly in, i.e. prefers his stay to going away. I ask,
is not this stay voluntary? I think nobody will doubt it: and yet,
being locked fast in, it is evident he is not at liberty not to
stay, he has not freedom to be gone. So that liberty is not an idea
belonging to volition, or preferring; but to the person having the
power of doing, or forbearing to do, according as the mind shall
choose or direct. Our idea of liberty reaches as far as that power,
and no farther. For wherever restraint comes to check that power, or
compulsion takes away that indifferency of ability to act, or to
forbear acting, there liberty, and our notion of it, presently ceases.
11. Voluntary opposed to involuntary, not to necessary. We have
instances enough, and often more than enough, in our own bodies. A
man's heart beats, and the blood circulates, which it is not in his
power by any thought or volition to stop; and therefore in respect
of these motions, where rest depends not on his choice, nor would
follow the determination of his mind, if it should prefer it, he is
not a free agent. Convulsive motions agitate his legs, so that
though he wills it ever so much, he cannot by any power of his mind
stop their motion, (as in that odd disease called chorea sancti viti),
but he is perpetually dancing; he is not at liberty in this action,
but under as much necessity of moving, as a stone that falls, or a
tennis-ball struck with a racket. On the other side, a palsy or the
stocks hinder his legs from obeying the determination of his mind,
if it would thereby transfer his body to another place. In all these
there is want of freedom; though the sitting still, even of a
paralytic, whilst he prefers it to a removal, is truly voluntary.
Voluntary, then, is not opposed to necessary, but to involuntary.
For a man may prefer what he can do, to what he cannot do; the state
he is in, to its absence or change; though necessity has made it in
itself unalterable.
12. Liberty, what. As it is in the motions of the body, so it is
in the thoughts of our minds: where any one is such, that we have
power to take it up, or lay it by, according to the preference of
the mind, there we are at liberty. A waking man, being under the
necessity of having some ideas constantly in his mind, is not at
liberty to think or not to think; no more than he is at liberty,
whether his body shall touch any other or no: but whether he will
remove his contemplation from one idea to another is many times in his
choice; and then he is, in respect of his ideas, as much at liberty as
he is in respect of bodies he rests on; he can at pleasure remove
himself from one to another. But yet some ideas to the mind, like some
motions to the body, are such as in certain circumstances it cannot
avoid, nor obtain their absence by the utmost effort it can use. A man
on the rack is not at liberty to lay by the idea of pain, and divert
himself with other contemplations: and sometimes a boisterous
passion hurries our thoughts, as a hurricane does our bodies,
without leaving us the liberty of thinking on other things, which we
would rather choose. But as soon as the mind regains the power to stop
or continue, begin or forbear, any of these motions of the body
without, or thoughts within, according as it thinks fit to prefer
either to the other, we then consider the man as a free agent again.
13. Necessity, what. Wherever thought is wholly wanting, or the
power to act or forbear according to the direction of thought, there
necessity takes place. This, in an agent capable of volition, when the
beginning or continuation of any action is contrary to that preference
of his mind, is called compulsion; when the hindering or stopping
any action is contrary to his volition, it is called restraint. Agents
that have no thought, no volition at all, are in everything
necessary agents.
14. Liberty belongs not to the will. If this be so, (as I imagine it
is,) I leave it to be considered, whether it may not help to put an
end to that long agitated, and, I think, unreasonable, because
unintelligible question, viz. Whether man's will be free or no? For if
I mistake not, it follows from what I have said, that the question
itself is altogether improper; and it is as insignificant to ask
whether man's will be free, as to ask whether his sleep be swift, or
his virtue square: liberty being as little applicable to the will,
as swiftness of motion is to sleep, or squareness to virtue. Every one
would laugh at the absurdity of such a question as either of these:
because it is obvious that the modifications of motion belong not to
sleep, nor the difference of figure to virtue; and when one well
considers it, I think he will as plainly perceive that liberty,
which is but a power, belongs only to agents, and cannot be an
attribute or modification of the will, which is also but a power.
15. Volition. Such is the difficulty of explaining and giving
clear notions of internal actions by sounds, that I must here warn
my reader, that ordering, directing, choosing, preferring, &c.,
which I have made use of, will not distinctly enough express volition,
unless he will reflect on what he himself does when he wills. For
example, preferring, which seems perhaps best to express the act of
volition, does it not precisely. For though a man would prefer
flying to walking, yet who can say he ever wills it? Volition, it is
plain, is an act of the mind knowingly exerting that dominion it takes
itself to have over any part of the man, by employing it in, or
withholding it from, any particular action. And what is the will,
but the faculty to do this? And is that faculty anything more in
effect than a power; the power of the mind to determine its thought,
to the producing, continuing, or stopping any action, as far as it
depends on us? For can it be denied that whatever agent has a power to
think on its own actions, and to prefer their doing or omission either
to other, has that faculty called will? Will, then, is nothing but
such a power. Liberty, on the other side, is the power a man has to do
or forbear doing any particular action according as its doing or
forbearance has the actual preference in the mind; which is the same
thing as to say, according as he himself wills it.
16. Powers, belonging to agents. It is plain then that the will is
nothing but one power or ability, and freedom another power or ability
so that, to ask, whether the will has freedom, is to ask whether one
power has another power, one ability another ability; a question at
first sight too grossly absurd to make a dispute, or need an answer.
For, who is it that sees not that powers belong only to agents, and
are attributes only of substances, and not of powers themselves? So
that this way of putting the question (viz. whether the will be
free) is in effect to ask, whether the will be a substance, an
agent, or at least to suppose it, since freedom can properly be
attributed to nothing else. If freedom can with any propriety of
speech be applied to power, it may be attributed to the power that
is in a man to produce, or forbear producing, motion in parts of his
body, by choice or preference; which is that which denominates him
free, and is freedom itself. But if any one should ask, whether
freedom were free, he would be suspected not to understand well what
he said; and he would be thought to deserve Midas's ears, who, knowing
that rich was a denomination for the possession of riches, should
demand whether riches themselves were rich.
19. Powers are relations, not agents. I grant, that this or that
actual thought may be the occasion of volition, or exercising the
power a man has to choose; or the actual choice of the mind, the cause
of actual thinking on this or that thing: as the actual singing of
such a tune may be the cause of dancing such a dance, and the actual
dancing of such a dance the occasion of singing such a tune. But in
all these it is not one power that operates on another: but it is
the mind that operates, and exerts these powers; it is the man that
does the action; it is the agent that has power, or is able to do. For
powers are relations, not agents: and that which has the power or
not the power to operate, is that alone which is or is not free, and
not the power itself For freedom, or not freedom, can belong to
nothing but what has or has not a power to act.
25. The will determined by something without it. Since then it is
plain that, in most cases, a man is not at liberty, whether he will or
no, (for, when an action in his power is proposed to his thoughts,
he cannot forbear volition; he must determine one way or the other);
the next thing demanded is,- Whether a man be at liberty to will which
of the two he pleases, motion or rest? This question carries the
absurdity of it so manifestly in itself, that one might thereby
sufficiently be convinced that liberty concerns not the will. For,
to ask whether a man be at liberty to will either motion or rest,
speaking or silence, which he pleases, is to ask whether a man can
will what he wills, or be pleased with what he is pleased with? A
question which, I think, needs no answer: and they who can make a
question of it must suppose one will to determine the acts of another,
and another to determine that, and so on in infinitum.
29. What determines the will. Thirdly, the will being nothing but
a power in the mind to direct the operative faculties of a man to
motion or rest, as far as they depend on such direction; to the
question, What is it determines the will? the true and proper answer
is, The mind. For that which determines the general power of
directing, to this or that particular direction, is nothing but the
agent itself exercising the power it has that particular way. If
this answer satisfies not, it is plain the meaning of the question,
What determines the will? is this,- What moves the mind, in every
particular instance, to determine its general power of directing, to
this or that particular motion or rest? And to this I answer,- The
motive for continuing in the same state or action, is only the present
satisfaction in it; the motive to change is always some uneasiness:
nothing setting us upon the change of state, or upon any new action,
but some uneasiness. This is the great motive that works on the mind
to put it upon action, which for shortness' sake we will call
determining of the will, which I shall more at large explain.
48. The power to suspend the prosecution of any desire makes way for
consideration. There being in us a great many uneasinesses, always
soliciting and ready to determine the will, it is natural, as I have
said, that the greatest and most pressing should determine the will to
the next action; and so it does for the most part, but not always.
For, the mind having in most cases, as is evident in experience, a
power to suspend the execution and satisfaction of any of its desires;
and so all, one after another; is at liberty to consider the objects
of them, examine them on all sides, and weigh them with others. In
this lies the liberty man has; and from the not using of it right
comes all that variety of mistakes, errors, and faults which we run
into in the conduct of our lives, and our endeavours after
happiness; whilst we precipitate the determination of our wills, and
engage too soon, before due examination. To prevent this, we have a
power to suspend the prosecution of this or that desire; as every
one daily may experiment in himself. This seems to me the source of
all liberty; in this seems to consist that which is (as I think
improperly) called free-will. For, during this suspension of any
desire, before the will be determined to action, and the action (which
follows that determination) done, we have opportunity to examine,
view, and judge of the good or evil of what we are going to do; and
when, upon due examination, we have judged, we have done our duty, all
that we can, or ought to do, in pursuit of our happiness; and it is
not a fault, but a perfection of our nature, to desire, will, and
act according to the last result of a fair examination.
73. Recapitulation- liberty of indifferency. To conclude this
inquiry into human liberty, which, as it stood before, I myself from
the beginning fearing, and a very judicious friend of mine, since
the publication, suspecting to have some mistake in it, though he
could not particularly show it me, I was put upon a stricter review of
this chapter. Wherein lighting upon a very easy and scarce
observable slip I had made, in putting one seemingly indifferent
word for another that discovery opened to me this present view,
which here, in this second edition, I submit to the learned world, and
which, in short, is this: Liberty is a power to act or not to act,
according as the mind directs. A power to direct the operative
faculties to motion or rest in particular instances is that which we
call the will. That which in the train of our voluntary actions
determines the will to any change of operation is some present
uneasiness, which is, or at least is always accompanied with that of
desire. Desire is always moved by evil, to fly it: because a total
freedom from pain always makes a necessary part of our happiness:
but every good, nay, every greater good, does not constantly move
desire, because it may not make, or may not be taken to make, part
of our happiness. For all that we desire, is only to be happy. But,
though this general desire of happiness operates constantly and
invariably, yet the satisfaction of any particular desire can be
suspended from determining the will to any subservient action, till we
have maturely examined whether the particular apparent good which we
then desire makes a part of our real happiness, or be consistent or
inconsistent with it. The result of our judgment upon that examination
is what ultimately determines the man; who could not be free if his
will were determined by anything but his own desire, guided by his own
judgment. I know that liberty, by some, is placed in an indifferency
of the man; antecedent to the determination of his will. I wish they
who lay so much stress on such an antecedent indifferency, as they
call it, had told us plainly, whether this supposed indifferency be
antecedent to the thought and judgment of the understanding, as well
as to the decree of the will. For it is pretty hard to state it
between them, i.e. immediately after the judgment of the
understanding, and before the determination of the will: because the
determination of the will immediately follows the judgment of the
understanding: and to place liberty in an indifferency, antecedent
to the thought and judgment of the understanding, seems to me to place
liberty in a state of darkness, wherein we can neither see nor say
anything of it; at least it places it in a subject incapable of it, no
agent being allowed capable of liberty, but in consequence of
thought and judgment. I am not nice about phrases, and therefore
consent to say with those that love to speak so, that liberty is
placed in indifferency, but it is an indifferency which remains
after the judgment of the understanding, yea, even after the
determination of the will: and that is an indifferency not of the man,
(for after he has once judged which is best, viz. to do or forbear, he
is no longer indifferent,) but an indifferency of the operative powers
of the man, which remaining equally able to operate or to forbear
operating after as before the decree of the will, are in a state,
which, if one pleases, may be called indifferency; and as far as
this indifferency reaches, a man is free, and no further: v.g. I
have the ability to move my hand, or to let it rest; that operative
power is indifferent to move or not to move my hand. I am then, in
that respect perfectly free; my will determines that operative power
to rest: I am yet free, because the indifferency of that my
operative power to act, or not to act, still remains; the power of
moving my hand is not at all impaired by the determination of my will,
which at present orders rest; the indifferency of that power to act,
or not to act, is just as it was before, as will appear, if the will
puts it to the trial, by ordering the contrary. But if, during the
rest of my hand, it be seized with a sudden palsy, the indifferency of
that operative power is gone, and with it my liberty; I have no longer
freedom in that respect, but am under a necessity of letting my hand
rest. On the other side, if my hand be put into motion by a
convulsion, the indifferency of that operative faculty is taken away
by that motion; and my liberty in that case is lost, for I am under
a necessity of having my hand move. I have added this, to show in what
sort of indifferency liberty seems to me to consist, and not in any
other, real or imaginary.
[74. ] Before I close this chapter, it may perhaps be to our purpose, and
help to give us clearer conceptions about power, if we make our
thoughts take a little more exact survey of action. I have said above,
that we have ideas but of two sorts of action, viz. motion and
thinking. These, in truth, though called and counted actions, yet,
if nearly considered, will not be found to be always perfectly so.
For, if I mistake not, there are instances of both kinds, which,
upon due consideration, will be found rather passions than actions;
and consequently so far the effects barely of passive powers in
those subjects, which yet on their accounts are thought agents. For,
in these instances, the substance that hath motion or thought receives
the impression, whereby it is put into that action, purely from
without, and so acts merely by the capacity it has to receive such
an impression from some external agent; and such power is not properly
an active power, but a mere passive capacity in the subject. Sometimes
the substance or agent puts itself into action by its own power, and
this is properly active power. Whatsoever modification a substance
has, whereby it produces any effect, that is called action: v.g. a
solid substance, by motion, operates on or alters the sensible ideas
of another substance, and therefore this modification of motion we
call action. But yet this motion in that solid substance is, when
rightly considered, but a passion, if it received it only from some
external agent. So that the active power of motion is in no
substance which cannot begin motion in itself or in another
substance when at rest. So likewise in thinking, a power to receive
ideas or thoughts from the operation of any external substance is
called a power of thinking: but this is but a passive power, or
capacity. But to be able to bring into view ideas out of sight at
one's own choice, and to compare which of them one thinks fit, this is
an active power. This reflection may be of some use to preserve us
from mistakes about powers and actions, which grammar, and the
common frame of languages, may be apt to lead us into. Since what is
signified by verbs that grammarians call active, does not always
signify action: v.g. this proposition: I see the moon, or a star, or I
feel the heat of the sun, though expressed by a verb active, does
not signify any action in me, whereby I operate on those substances,
but only the reception of the ideas of light, roundness, and heat;
wherein I am not active, but barely passive, and cannot, in that
position of my eyes or body, avoid receiving them. But when I turn
my eyes another way, or remove my body out of the sunbeams, I am
properly active; because of my own choice, by a power within myself, I
put myself into that motion. Such an action is the product of active
power.
Chapter XXII
Of Mixed Modes
1. Mixed modes, what. Having treated of simple modes in the
foregoing chapters, and given several instances of some of the most
considerable of them, to show what they are, and how we come by
them; we are now in the next place to consider those we call mixed
modes; such are the complex ideas we mark by the names obligation,
drunkenness, a lie, &c.; which consisting of several combinations of
simple ideas of different kinds, I have called mixed modes, to
distinguish them from the more simple modes, which consist only of
simple ideas of the same kind. These mixed modes, being also such
combinations of simple ideas as are not looked upon to be
characteristical marks of any real beings that have a steady
existence, but scattered and independent ideas put together by the
mind, are thereby distinguished from the complex ideas of substances.
Chapter XXIII
Of our Complex Ideas of Substances
1. Ideas of particular substances, how made. The mind being, as I
have declared, furnished with a great number of the simple ideas,
conveyed in by the senses as they are found in exterior things, or
by reflection on its own operations, takes notice also that a
certain number of these simple ideas go constantly together; which
being presumed to belong to one thing, and words being suited to
common apprehensions, and made use of for quick dispatch, are
called, so united in one subject, by one name; which, by inadvertency,
we are apt afterward to talk of and consider as one simple idea, which
indeed is a complication of many ideas together: because, as I have
said, not imagining how these simple ideas can subsist by
themselves, we accustom ourselves to suppose some substratum wherein
they do subsist, and from which they do result, which therefore we
call substance.
2. Our obscure idea of substance in general. So that if any one will
examine himself concerning his notion of pure substance in general, he
will find he has no other idea of it at all, but only a supposition of
he knows not what support of such qualities which are capable of
producing simple ideas in us; which qualities are commonly called
accidents. If any one should be asked, what is the subject wherein
colour or weight inheres, he would have nothing to say, but the
solid extended parts; and if he were demanded, what is it that
solidity and extension adhere in, he would not be in a much better
case than the Indian before mentioned who, saying that the world was
supported by a great elephant, was asked what the elephant rested
on; to which his answer was- a great tortoise: but being again pressed
to know what gave support to the broad-backed tortoise, replied-
something, he knew not what. And thus here, as in all other cases
where we use words without having clear and distinct ideas, we talk
like children: who, being questioned what such a thing is, which
they know not, readily give this satisfactory answer, that it is
something: which in truth signifies no more, when so used, either by
children or men, but that they know not what; and that the thing
they pretend to know, and talk of, is what they have no distinct
idea of at all, and so are perfectly ignorant of it, and in the
dark. The idea then we have, to which we give the general name
substance, being nothing but the supposed, but unknown, support of
those qualities we find existing, which we imagine cannot subsist sine
re substante, without something to support them, we call that
support substantia; which, according to the true import of the word,
is, in plain English, standing under or upholding.
3. Of the sorts of substances. An obscure and relative idea of
substance in general being thus made we come to have the ideas of
particular sorts of substances, by collecting such combinations of
simple ideas as are, by experience and observation of men's senses,
taken notice of to exist together; and are therefore supposed to
flow from the particular internal constitution, or unknown essence
of that substance. Thus we come to have the ideas of a man, horse,
gold, water, &c.; of which substances, whether any one has any other
clear idea, further than of certain simple ideas co-existent together,
I appeal to every one's own experience. It is the ordinary qualities
observable in iron, or a diamond, put together, that make the true
complex idea of those substances, which a smith or a jeweller commonly
knows better than a philosopher; who, whatever substantial forms he
may talk of, has no other idea of those substances, than what is
framed by a collection of those simple ideas which are to be found
in them: only we must take notice, that our complex ideas of
substances, besides all those simple ideas they are made up of, have
always the confused idea of something to which they belong, and in
which they subsist: and therefore when we speak of any sort of
substance, we say it is a thing having such or such qualities; as body
is a thing that is extended, figured, and capable of motion; spirit, a
thing capable of thinking; and so hardness, friability, and power to
draw iron, we say, are qualities to be found in a loadstone. These,
and the like fashions of speaking, intimate that the substance is
supposed always something besides the extension, figure, solidity,
motion, thinking, or other observable ideas, though we know not what
it is.
4. No clear or distinct idea of substance in general. Hence, when we
talk or think of any particular sort of corporeal substances, as
horse, stone, &c., though the idea we have of either of them be but
the complication or collection of those several simple ideas of
sensible qualities, which we used to find united in the thing called
horse or stone; yet, because we cannot conceive how they should
subsist alone, nor one in another, we suppose them existing in and
supported by some common subject; which support we denote by the
name substance, though it be certain we have no clear or distinct idea
of that thing we suppose a support.
5. As clear an idea of spiritual substance as of corporeal
substance. The same thing happens concerning the operations of the
mind, viz. thinking, reasoning, fearing, &c., which we concluding
not to subsist of themselves, nor apprehending how they can belong
to body, or be produced by it, we are apt to think these the actions
of some other substance, which we call spirit; whereby yet it is
evident that, having no other idea or notion of matter, but
something wherein those many sensible qualities which affect our
senses do subsist; by supposing a substance wherein thinking, knowing,
doubting, and a power of moving, &c., do subsist, we have as clear a
notion of the substance of spirit, as we have of body; the one being
supposed to be (without knowing what it is) the substratum to those
simple ideas we have from without; and the other supposed (with a like
ignorance of what it is) to be the substratum to those operations we
experiment in ourselves within. It is plain then, that the idea of
corporeal substance in matter is as remote from our conceptions and
apprehensions, as that of spiritual substance, or spirit: and
therefore, from our not having any notion of the substance of
spirit, we can no more conclude its non-existence, than we can, for
the same reason, deny the existence of body; it being as rational to
affirm there is no body, because we have no clear and distinct idea of
the substance of matter, as to say there is no spirit, because we have
no clear and distinct idea of the substance of a spirit.
6. Our ideas of particular sorts of substances. Whatever therefore
be the secret abstract nature of substance in general, all the ideas
we have of particular distinct sorts of substances are nothing but
several combinations of simple ideas, coexisting in such, though
unknown, cause of their union, as makes the whole subsist of itself It
is by such combinations of simple ideas, and nothing else, that we
represent particular sorts of substances to ourselves; such are the
ideas we have of their several species in our minds; and such only
do we, by their specific names, signify to others, v.g. man, horse,
sun, water, iron: upon hearing which words, every one who
understands the language, frames in his mind a combination of those
several simple ideas which he has usually observed, or fancied to
exist together under that denomination; all which he supposes to
rest in and be, as it were, adherent to that unknown common subject,
which inheres not in anything else. Though, in the meantime, it be
manifest, and every one, upon inquiry into his own thoughts, will
find, that he has no other idea of any substance, v.g. let it be gold,
horse, iron, man, vitriol, bread, but what he has barely of those
sensible qualities, which he supposes to inhere; with a supposition of
such a substratum as gives, as it were, a support to those qualities
or simple ideas, which he has observed to exist united together. Thus,
the idea of the sun,- what is it but an aggregate of those several
simple ideas, bright, hot, roundish, having a constant regular motion,
at a certain distance from us, and perhaps some other: as he who
thinks and discourses of the sun has been more or less accurate in
observing those sensible qualities, ideas, or properties, which are in
that thing which he calls the sun.
7. Their active and passive powers a great part of our complex ideas
of substances. For he has the perfectest idea of any of the particular
sorts of substances, who has gathered, and put together, most of those
simple ideas which do exist in it; among which are to be reckoned
its active powers, and passive capacities, which, though not simple
ideas, yet in this respect, for brevity's sake, may conveniently
enough be reckoned amongst them. Thus, the power of drawing iron is
one of the ideas of the complex one of that substance we call a
loadstone; and a power to be so drawn is a part of the complex one
we call iron: which powers pass for inherent qualities in those
subjects. Because every substance, being as apt, by the powers we
observe in it, to change some sensible qualities in other subjects, as
it is to produce in us those simple ideas which we receive immediately
from it, does, by those new sensible qualities introduced into other
subjects, discover to us those powers which do thereby mediately
affect our senses, as regularly as its sensible qualities do it
immediately: v.g. we immediately by our senses perceive in fire its
heat and colour; which are, if rightly considered, nothing but
powers in it to produce those ideas in us: we also by our senses
perceive the colour and brittleness of charcoal, whereby we come by
the knowledge of another power in fire, which it has to change the
colour and consistency of wood. By the former, fire immediately, by
the latter, it mediately discovers to us these several powers; which
therefore we look upon to be a part of the qualities of fire, and so
make them a part of the complex idea of it. For all those powers
that we take cognizance of, terminating only in the alteration of some
sensible qualities in those subjects on which they operate, and so
making them exhibit to us new sensible ideas, therefore it is that I
have reckoned these powers amongst the simple ideas which make the
complex ones of the sort? of substances; though these powers
considered in themselves, are truly complex ideas. And in this
looser sense I crave leave to be understood, when I name any of
these potentialities among the simple ideas which we recollect in
our minds when we think of particular substances. For the powers
that are severally in them are necessary to be considered, if we
will have true distinct notions of the several sorts of substances.
8. And why. Nor are we to wonder that powers make a great part of
our complex ideas of substances; since their secondary qualities are
those which in most of them serve principally to distinguish
substances one from another, and commonly make a considerable part
of the complex idea of the several sorts of them. For, our senses
failing us in the discovery of the bulk, texture, and figure of the
minute parts of bodies, on which their real constitutions and
differences depend, we are fain to make use of their secondary
qualities as the characteristical notes and marks whereby to frame
ideas of them in our minds, and distinguish them one from another: all
which secondary qualities, as has been shown, are nothing but bare
powers. For the colour and taste of opium are, as well as its
soporific or anodyne virtues, mere powers, depending on its primary
qualities, whereby it is fitted to produce different operations on
different parts of our bodies.
9. Three sorts of ideas make our complex ones of corporeal
substances. The ideas that make our complex ones of corporeal
substances, are of these three sorts. First, the ideas of the
primary qualities of things, which are discovered by our senses, and
are in them even when we perceive them not; such are the bulk, figure,
number, situation, and motion of the parts of bodies; which are really
in them, whether we take notice of them or not. Secondly, the sensible
secondary qualities, which, depending on these, are nothing but the
powers those substances have to produce several ideas in us by our
senses; which ideas are not in the things themselves, otherwise than
as anything is in its cause. Thirdly, the aptness we consider in any
substance, to give or receive such alterations of primary qualities,
as that the substance so altered should produce in us different
ideas from what it did before; these are called active and passive
powers: all which powers, as far as we have any notice or notion of
them, terminate only in sensible simple ideas. For whatever alteration
a loadstone has the power to make in the minute particles of iron,
we should have no notion of any power it had at all to operate on
iron, did not its sensible motion discover it: and I doubt not, but
there are a thousand changes, that bodies we daily handle have a power
to use in one another, which we never suspect, because they never
appear in sensible effects.
10. Powers thus make a great part of our complex ideas of particular
substances. Powers therefore justly make a great part of our complex
ideas of substances. He that will examine his complex idea of gold,
will find several of its ideas that make it up to be only powers; as
the power of being melted, but of not spending itself in the fire;
of being dissolved in aqua regia, are ideas as necessary to make up
our complex idea of gold, as its colour and weight: which, if duly
considered, are also nothing but different powers. For, to speak
truly, yellowness is not actually in gold, but is a power in gold to
produce that idea in us by our eyes, when placed in a due light: and
the heat, which we cannot leave out of our ideas of the sun, is no
more really in the sun, than the white colour it introduces into
wax. These are both equally powers in the sun, operating, by the
motion and figure of its sensible parts, so on a man, as to make him
have the idea of heat; and so on wax, as to make it capable to produce
in a man the idea of white.
11. The now secondary qualities of bodies would disappear, if we
could discover the primary ones of their minute parts. Had we senses
acute enough to discern the minute particles of bodies, and the real
constitution on which their sensible qualities depend, I doubt not but
they would produce quite different ideas in us: and that which is
now the yellow colour of gold, would then disappear, and instead of it
we should see an admirable texture of parts, of a certain size and
figure. This microscopes plainly discover to us; for what to our naked
eyes produces a certain colour, is, by thus augmenting the acuteness
of our senses, discovered to be quite a different thing; and the
thus altering, as it were, the proportion of the bulk of the minute
parts of a coloured object to our usual sight, produces different
ideas from what it did before. Thus, sand or pounded glass, which is
opaque, and white to the naked eye, is pellucid in a microscope; and a
hair seen in this way, loses its former colour, and is, in a great
measure, pellucid, with a mixture of some bright sparkling colours,
such as appear from the refraction of diamonds, and other pellucid
bodies. Blood, to the naked eye, appears all red; but by a good
microscope, wherein its lesser parts appear, shows only some few
globules of red, swimming in a pellucid liquor, and how these red
globules would appear, if glasses could be found that could yet
magnify them a thousand or ten thousand times more, is uncertain.
15. Our ideas of spiritual substances, as clear as of bodily
substances. Besides the complex ideas we have of material sensible
substances, of which I have last spoken,- by the simple ideas we
have taken from those operations of our own minds, which we experiment
daily in ourselves, as thinking, understanding, willing, knowing,
and power of beginning motion, &c., co-existing in some substance,
we are able to frame the complex idea of an immaterial spirit. And
thus, by putting together the ideas of thinking, perceiving,
liberty, and power of moving themselves and other things, we have as
clear a perception and notion of immaterial substances as we have of
material. For putting together the ideas of thinking and willing, or
the power of moving or quieting corporeal motion, joined to substance,
of which we have no distinct idea, we have the idea of an immaterial
spirit; and by putting together the ideas of coherent solid parts, and
a power of being moved, joined with substance, of which likewise we
have no positive idea, we have the idea of matter. The one is as clear
and distinct an idea as the other: the idea of thinking, and moving
a body, being as clear and distinct ideas as the ideas of extension,
solidity, and being moved. For our idea of substance is equally
obscure, or none at all, in both; it is but a supposed I know not
what, to support those ideas we call accidents. It is for want
reflection that we are apt to think that our senses show us nothing
but material things. Every act of sensation, when duly considered,
gives us an equal view of both parts of nature, the corporeal and
spiritual. For whilst I know, by seeing or hearing, &c., that there is
some corporeal being without me, the object of that sensation, I do
more certainly know, that there is some spiritual being within me that
sees and hears. This, I must be convinced, cannot be the action of
bare insensible matter; nor ever could be, without an immaterial
thinking being.
16. No idea of abstract substance either in body or spirit. By the
complex idea of extended, figured, coloured, and all other sensible
qualities, which is all that we know of it, we are as far from the
idea of the substance of body, as if we knew nothing at all: nor after
all the acquaintance and familiarity which we imagine we have with
matter, and the many qualities men assure themselves they perceive and
know in bodies, will it perhaps upon examination be found, that they
have any more or clearer primary ideas belonging to body, than they
have belonging to immaterial spirit.
17. Cohesion of solid parts and impulse, the primary ideas
peculiar to body. The primary ideas we have peculiar to body, as
contradistinguished to spirit, are the cohesion of solid, and
consequently separable, parts, and a power of communicating motion
by impulse. These, I think, are the original ideas proper and peculiar
to body; for figure is but the consequence of finite extension.
18. Thinking and motivity the primary ideas peculiar to spirit.
The ideas we have belonging and peculiar to spirit, are thinking,
and will, or a power of putting body into motion by thought, and,
which is consequent to it, liberty. For, as body cannot but
communicate its motion by impulse to another body, which it meets with
at rest, so the mind can put bodies into motion, or forbear to do
so, as it pleases. The ideas of existence, duration, and mobility, are
common to them both.
22. Our complex idea of an immaterial spirit and our complex idea of
body compared. Let us compare, then, our complex idea of an immaterial
spirit with our complex idea of body, and see whether there be any
more obscurity in one than in the other, and in which most. Our idea
of body, as I think, is an extended solid substance, capable of
communicating motion by impulse: and our idea of soul, as an
immaterial spirit, is of a substance that thinks, and has a power of
exciting motion in body, by willing, or thought. These, I think, are
our complex ideas of soul and body, as contradistinguished; and now
let us examine which has most obscurity in it, and difficulty to be
apprehended. I know that people whose thoughts are immersed in matter,
and have so subjected their minds to their senses that they seldom
reflect on anything beyond them, are apt to say, they cannot
comprehend a thinking thing, which perhaps is true: but I affirm, when
they consider it well, they can no more comprehend an extended thing.
28. Communication of motion by impulse, or by thought, equally
unintelligible. Another idea we have of body is, the power of
communication of motion by impulse; and of our souls, the power of
exciting motion by thought. These ideas, the one of body, the other of
our minds, every day's experience clearly furnishes us with: but if
here again we inquire how this is done, we are equally in the dark.
For, in the communication of motion by impulse, wherein as much motion
is lost to one body as is got to the other, which is the ordinariest
case, we can have no other conception, but of the passing of motion
out of one body into another; which, I think, is as obscure and
inconceivable as how our minds move or stop our bodies by thought,
which we every moment find they do. The increase of motion by impulse,
which is observed or believed sometimes to happen, is yet harder to be
understood. We have by daily experience clear evidence of motion
produced both by impulse and by thought; but the manner how, hardly
comes within our comprehension: we are equally at a loss in both. So
that, however we consider motion, and its communication, either from
body or spirit, the idea which belongs to spirit is at least as
clear as that which belongs to body. And if we consider the active
power of moving, or, as I may call it, motivity, it is much clearer in
spirit than body; since two bodies, placed by one another at rest,
will never afford us the idea of a power in the one to move the other,
but by a borrowed motion: whereas the mind every day affords us
ideas of an active power of moving of bodies; and therefore it is
worth our consideration, whether active power be not the proper
attribute of spirits, and passive power of matter. Hence may be
conjectured that created spirits are not totally separate from matter,
because they are both active and passive. Pure spirit, viz. God, is
only active; pure matter is only passive; those beings that are both
active and passive, we may judge to partake of both. But be that as it
will, I think, we have as many and as clear ideas belonging to
spirit as we have belonging to body, the substance of each being
equally unknown to us; and the idea of thinking in spirit, as clear as
of extension in body; and the communication of motion by thought,
which we attribute to spirit, is as evident as that by impulse,
which we ascribe to body. Constant experience makes us sensible of
both these, though our narrow understandings can comprehend neither.
For, when the mind would look beyond those original ideas we have from
sensation or reflection, and penetrate into their causes, and manner
of production, we find still it discovers nothing but its own
short-sightedness.
37. Recapitulation. And thus we have seen what kind of ideas we have
of substances of all kinds, wherein they consist, and how we came by
them. From whence, I think, it is very evident,
First, That all our ideas of the several sorts of substances are
nothing but collections of simple ideas: with a supposition of
something to which they belong, and in which they subsist: though of
this supposed something we have no clear distinct idea at all.
Secondly, That all the simple ideas, that thus united in one
common substratum, make up our complex ideas of several sorts of
substances, are no other but such as we have received from sensation
or reflection. So that even in those which we think we are most
intimately acquainted with, and that come nearest the comprehension of
our most enlarged conceptions, we cannot go beyond those simple ideas.
And even in those which seem most remote from all we have to do
with, and do infinitely surpass anything we can perceive in
ourselves by reflection; or discover by sensation in other things,
we can attain to nothing but those simple ideas, which we originally
received from sensation or reflection; as is evident in the complex
ideas we have of angels, and particularly of God himself.
Thirdly, That most of the simple ideas that make up our complex
ideas of substances, when truly considered, are only powers, however
we are apt to take them for positive qualities; v.g. the greatest part
of the ideas that make our complex idea of gold are yellowness,
great weight, ductility, fusibility, and solubility in aqua regia,
&c., all united together in an unknown substratum: all which ideas are
nothing else but so many relations to other substances; and are not
really in the gold, considered barely in itself, though they depend on
those real and primary qualities of its internal constitution, whereby
it has a fitness differently to operate, and be operated on by several
other substances.
Chapter XXVII
Of Identity and Diversity
1. Wherein identity consists. Another occasion the mind often
takes of comparing, is the very being of things, when, considering
anything as existing at any determined time and place, we compare it
with itself existing at another time, and thereon form the ideas of
identity and diversity. When we see anything to be in any place in any
instant of time, we are sure (be it what it will) that it is that very
thing, and not another which at that same time exists in another
place, how like and undistinguishable soever it may be in all other
respects: and in this consists identity, when the ideas it is
attributed to vary not at all from what they were that moment
wherein we consider their former existence, and to which we compare
the present. For we never finding, nor conceiving it possible, that
two things of the same kind should exist in the same place at the same
time, we rightly conclude, that, whatever exists anywhere at any time,
excludes all of the same kind, and is there itself alone. When
therefore we demand whether anything be the same or no, it refers
always to something that existed such a time in such a place, which it
was certain, at that instant, was the same with itself, and no
other. From whence it follows, that one thing cannot have two
beginnings of existence, nor two things one beginning; it being
impossible for two things of the same kind to be or exist in the
same instant, in the very same place; or one and the same thing in
different places. That, therefore, that had one beginning, is the same
thing; and that which had a different beginning in time and place from
that, is not the same, but diverse. That which has made the difficulty
about this relation has been the little care and attention used in
having precise notions of the things to which it is attributed.
2. Identity of substances. We have the ideas but of three sorts of
substances: 1. God. 2. Finite intelligences. 3. Bodies.
First, God is without beginning, eternal, unalterable, and
everywhere, and therefore concerning his identity there can be no
doubt.
Secondly, Finite spirits having had each its determinate time and
place of beginning to exist, the relation to that time and place
will always determine to each of them its identity, as long as it
exists.
Thirdly, The same will hold of every particle of matter, to which no
addition or subtraction of matter being made, it is the same. For,
though these three sorts of substances, as we term them, do not
exclude one another out of the same place, yet we cannot conceive
but that they must necessarily each of them exclude any of the same
kind out of the same place: or else the notions and names of
identity and diversity would be in vain, and there could be no such
distinctions of substances, or anything else one from another. For
example: could two bodies be in the same place at the same time;
then those two parcels of matter must be one and the same, take them
great or little; nay, all bodies must be one and the same. For, by the
same reason that two particles of matter may be in one place, all
bodies may be in one place: which, when it can be supposed, takes away
the distinction of identity and diversity of one and more, and renders
it ridiculous. But it being a contradiction that two or more should be
one, identity and diversity are relations and ways of comparing well
founded, and of use to the understanding.
Identity of modes and relations. All other things being but modes or
relations ultimately terminated in substances, the identity and
diversity of each particular existence of them too will be by the same
way determined: only as to things whose existence is in succession,
such as are the actions of finite beings, v.g. motion and thought,
both which consist in a continued train of succession, concerning
their diversity there can be no question: because each perishing the
moment it begins, they cannot exist in different times, or in
different places, as permanent beings can at different times exist
in distant places; and therefore no motion or thought, considered as
at different times, can be the same, each part thereof having a
different beginning of existence.
3. Principium Individuationis. From what has been said, it is easy
to discover what is so much inquired after, the principium
individuationis; and that, it is plain, is existence itself; which
determines a being of any sort to a particular time and place,
incommunicable to two beings of the same kind. This, though it seems
easier to conceive in simple substances or modes; yet, when
reflected on, is not more difficult in compound ones, if care be taken
to what it is applied: v.g. let us suppose an atom, i.e. a continued
body under one immutable superficies, existing in a determined time
and place; it is evident, that, considered in any instant of its
existence, it is in that instant the same with itself. For, being at
that instant what it is, and nothing else, it is the same, and so must
continue as long as its existence is continued; for so long it will be
the same, and no other. In like manner, if two or more atoms be joined
together into the same mass, every one of those atoms will be the
same, by the foregoing rule: and whilst they exist united together,
the mass, consisting of the same atoms, must be the same mass, or
the same body, let the parts be ever so differently jumbled. But if
one of these atoms be taken away, or one new one added, it is no
longer the same mass or the same body. In the state of living
creatures, their identity depends not on a mass of the same particles,
but on something else. For in them the variation of great parcels of
matter alters not the identity: an oak growing from a plant to a great
tree, and then lopped, is still the same oak; and a colt grown up to a
horse, sometimes fat, sometimes lean, is all the while the same horse:
though, in both these cases, there may be a manifest change of the
parts; so that truly they are not either of them the same masses of
matter, though they be truly one of them the same oak, and the other
the same horse. The reason whereof is, that, in these two cases- a
mass of matter and a living body- identity is not applied to the
same thing.
4. Identity of vegetables. We must therefore consider wherein an oak
differs from a mass of matter, and that seems to me to be in this,
that the one is only the cohesion of particles of matter any how
united, the other such a disposition of them as constitutes the
parts of an oak; and such an organization of those parts as is fit
to receive and distribute nourishment, so as to continue and frame the
wood, bark, and leaves, &c., of an oak, in which consists the
vegetable life. That being then one plant which has such an
organization of parts in one coherent body, partaking of one common
life, it continues to be the same plant as long as it partakes of
the same life, though that life be communicated to new particles of
matter vitally united to the living plant, in a like continued
organization conformable to that sort of plants. For this
organization, being at any one instant in any one collection of
matter, is in that particular concrete distinguished from all other,
and is that individual life, which existing constantly from that
moment both forwards and backwards, in the same continuity of
insensibly succeeding parts united to the living body of the plant, it
has that identity which makes the same plant, and all the parts of it,
parts of the same plant, during all the time that they exist united in
that continued organization, which is fit to convey that common life
to all the parts so united.
5. Identity of animals. The case is not so much different in
brutes but that any one may hence see what makes an animal and
continues it the same. Something we have like this in machines, and
may serve to illustrate it. For example, what is a watch? It is
plain it is nothing but a fit organization or construction of parts to
a certain end, which, when a sufficient force is added to it, it is
capable to attain. If we would suppose this machine one continued
body, all whose organized parts were repaired, increased, or
diminished by a constant addition or separation of insensible parts,
with one common life, we should have something very much like the body
of an animal; with this difference, That, in an animal the fitness
of the organization, and the motion wherein life consists, begin
together, the motion coming from within; but in machines the force
coming sensibly from without, is often away when the organ is in
order, and well fitted to receive it.
6. The identity of man. This also shows wherein the identity of
the same man consists; viz. in nothing but a participation of the same
continued life, by constantly fleeting particles of matter, in
succession vitally united to the same organized body. He that shall
place the identity of man in anything else, but, like that of other
animals, in one fitly organized body, taken in any one instant, and
from thence continued, under one organization of life, in several
successively fleeting particles of matter united to it, will find it
hard to make an embryo, one of years, mad and sober, the same man,
by any supposition, that will not make it possible for Seth, Ismael,
Socrates, Pilate, St. Austin, and Caesar Borgia, to be the same man.
For if the identity of soul alone makes the same man; and there be
nothing in the nature of matter why the same individual spirit may not
be united to different bodies, it will be possible that those men,
living in distant ages, and of different tempers, may have been the
same man: which way of speaking must be from a very strange use of the
word man, applied to an idea out of which body and shape are excluded.
And that way of speaking would agree yet worse with the notions of
those philosophers who allow of transmigration, and are of opinion
that the souls of men may, for their miscarriages, be detruded into
the bodies of beasts, as fit habitations, with organs suited to the
satisfaction of their brutal inclinations. But yet I think nobody,
could he be sure that the soul of Heliogabalus were in one of his
hogs, would yet say that hog were a man or Heliogabalus.
7. Idea of identity suited to the idea it is applied to. It is not
therefore unity of substance that comprehends all sorts of identity,
or will determine it in every case; but to conceive and judge of it
aright, we must consider what idea the word it is applied to stands
for: it being one thing to be the same substance, another the same
man, and a third the same person, if person, man, and substance, are
three names standing for three different ideas;- for such as is the
idea belonging to that name, such must be the identity; which, if it
had been a little more carefully attended to, would possibly have
prevented a great deal of that confusion which often occurs about this
matter, with no small seeming difficulties, especially concerning
personal identity, which therefore we shall in the next place a little
consider.
8. Same man. An animal is a living organized body; and
consequently the same animal, as we have observed, is the same
continued life communicated to different particles of matter, as
they happen successively to be united to that organized living body.
And whatever is talked of other definitions, ingenious observation
puts it past doubt, that the idea in our minds, of which the sound man
in our mouths is the sign, is nothing else but of an animal of such
a certain form. Since I think I may be confident, that, whoever should
see a creature of his own shape or make, though it had no more
reason all its life than a cat or a parrot, would call him still a
man; or whoever should hear a cat or a parrot discourse, reason, and
philosophize, would call or think it nothing but a cat or a parrot;
and say, the one was a dull irrational man, and the other a very
intelligent rational parrot. A relation we have in an author of
great note, is sufficient to countenance the supposition of a rational
parrot.
9. Personal identity. This being premised, to find wherein
personal identity consists, we must consider what person stands
for;- which, I think, is a thinking intelligent being, that has reason
and reflection, and can consider itself as itself, the same thinking
thing, in different times and places; which it does only by that
consciousness which is inseparable from thinking, and, as it seems
to me, essential to it: it being impossible for any one to perceive
without perceiving that he does perceive. When we see, hear, smell,
taste, feel, meditate, or will anything, we know that we do so. Thus
it is always as to our present sensations and perceptions: and by this
every one is to himself that which he calls self:- it not being
considered, in this case, whether the same self be continued in the
same or divers substances. For, since consciousness always accompanies
thinking, and it is that which makes every one to be what he calls
self, and thereby distinguishes himself from all other thinking
things, in this alone consists personal identity, i.e. the sameness of
a rational being: and as far as this consciousness can be extended
backwards to any past action or thought, so far reaches the identity
of that person; it is the same self now it was then; and it is by
the same self with this present one that now reflects on it, that that
action was done.
10. Consciousness makes personal identity. But it is further
inquired, whether it be the same identical substance. This few would
think they had reason to doubt of, if these perceptions, with their
consciousness, always remained present in the mind, whereby the same
thinking thing would be always consciously present, and, as would be
thought, evidently the same to itself. But that which seems to make
the difficulty is this, that this consciousness being interrupted
always by forgetfulness, there being no moment of our lives wherein we
have the whole train of all our past actions before our eyes in one
view, but even the best memories losing the sight of one part whilst
they are viewing another; and we sometimes, and that the greatest part
of our lives, not reflecting on our past selves, being intent on our
present thoughts, and in sound sleep having no thoughts at all, or
at least none with that consciousness which remarks our waking
thoughts,- I say, in all these cases, our consciousness being
interrupted, and we losing the sight of our past selves, doubts are
raised whether we are the same thinking thing, i.e. the same substance
or no. Which, however reasonable or unreasonable, concerns not
personal identity at all. The question being what makes the same
person; and not whether it be the same identical substance, which
always thinks in the same person, which, in this case, matters not
at all: different substances, by the same consciousness (where they do
partake in it) being united into one person, as well as different
bodies by the same life are united into one animal, whose identity
is preserved in that change of substances by the unity of one
continued life. For, it being the same consciousness that makes a
man be himself to himself, personal identity depends on that only,
whether it be annexed solely to one individual substance, or can be
continued in a succession of several substances. For as far as any
intelligent being can repeat the idea of any past action with the same
consciousness it had of it at first, and with the same consciousness
it has of any present action; so far it is the same personal self
For it is by the consciousness it has of its present thoughts and
actions, that it is self to itself now, and so will be the same
self, as far as the same consciousness can extend to actions past or
to come. and would be by distance of time, or change of substance,
no more two persons, than a man be two men by wearing other clothes
to-day than he did yesterday, with a long or a short sleep between:
the same consciousness uniting those distant actions into the same
person, whatever substances contributed to their production.
11. Personal identity in change of substance. That this is so, we
have some kind of evidence in our very bodies, all whose particles,
whilst vitally united to this same thinking conscious self, so that we
feel when they are touched, and are affected by, and conscious of good
or harm that happens to them, as a part of ourselves; i.e. of our
thinking conscious self. Thus, the limbs of his body are to every
one a part of Himself; he sympathizes and is concerned for them. Cut
off a hand, and thereby separate it from that consciousness he had
of its heat, cold, and other affections, and it is then no longer a
part of that which is himself, any more than the remotest part of
matter. Thus, we see the substance whereof personal self consisted
at one time may be varied at another, without the change of personal
identity; there being no question about the same person, though the
limbs which but now were a part of it, be cut off.
12. Personality in change of substance. But the question is, Whether
if the same substance which thinks be changed, it can be the same
person; or, remaining the same, it can be different persons?
And to this I answer: First, This can be no question at all to those
who place thought in a purely material animal constitution, void of an
immaterial substance. For, whether their supposition be true or no, it
is plain they conceive personal identity preserved in something else
than identity of substance; as animal identity is preserved in
identity of life, and not of substance. And therefore those who
place thinking in an immaterial substance only, before they can come
to deal with these men, must show why personal identity cannot be
preserved in the change of immaterial substances, or variety of
particular immaterial substances, as well as animal identity is
preserved in the change of material substances, or variety of
particular bodies: unless they will say, it is one immaterial spirit
that makes the same life in brutes, as it is one immaterial spirit
that makes the same person in men; which the Cartesians at least
will not admit, for fear of making brutes thinking things too.
13. Whether in change of thinking substances there can be one
person. But next, as to the first part of the question, Whether, if
the same thinking substance (supposing immaterial substances only to
think) be changed, it can be the same person? I answer, that cannot be
resolved but by those who know what kind of substances they are that
do think; and whether the consciousness of past actions can be
transferred from one thinking substance to another. I grant were the
same consciousness the same individual action it could not: but it
being a present representation of a past action, why it may not be
possible, that that may be represented to the mind to have been
which really never was, will remain to be shown. And therefore how far
the consciousness of past actions is annexed to any individual
agent, so that another cannot possibly have it, will be hard for us to
determine, till we know what kind of action it is that cannot be
done without a reflex act of perception accompanying it, and how
performed by thinking substances, who cannot think without being
conscious of it. But that which we call the same consciousness, not
being the same individual act, why one intellectual substance may
not have represented to it, as done by itself, what it never did,
and was perhaps done by some other agent- why, I say, such a
representation may not possibly be without reality of matter of
fact, as well as several representations in dreams are, which yet
whilst dreaming we take for true- will be difficult to conclude from
the nature of things. And that it never is so, will by us, till we
have clearer views of the nature of thinking substances, be best
resolved into the goodness of God; who, as far as the happiness or
misery of any of his sensible creatures is concerned in it, will
not, by a fatal error of theirs, transfer from one to another that
consciousness which draws reward or punishment with it. How far this
may be an argument against those who would place thinking in a
system of fleeting animal spirits, I leave to be considered. But
yet, to return to the question before us, it must be allowed, that, if
the same consciousness (which, as has been shown, is quite a different
thing from the same numerical figure or motion in body) can be
transferred from one thinking substance to another, it will be
possible that two thinking substances may make but one person. For the
same consciousness being preserved, whether in the same or different
substances, the personal identity is preserved.
14. Whether, the same immaterial substance remaining, there can be
two persons. As to the second part of the question, Whether the same
immaterial substance remaining, there may be two distinct persons;
which question seems to me to be built on this,- Whether the same
immaterial being, being conscious of the action of its past
duration, may be wholly stripped of all the consciousness of its
past existence, and lose it beyond the power of ever retrieving it
again: and so as it were beginning a new account from a new period,
have a consciousness that cannot reach beyond this new state. All
those who hold pre-existence are evidently of this mind; since they
allow the soul to have no remaining consciousness of what it did in
that pre-existent state, either wholly separate from body, or
informing any other body; and if they should not, it is plain
experience would be against them. So that personal identity,
reaching no further than consciousness reaches, a pre-existent
spirit not having continued so many ages in a state of silence, must
needs make different persons. Suppose a Christian Platonist or a
Pythagorean should, upon God's having ended all his works of
creation the seventh day, think his soul hath existed ever since;
and should imagine it has revolved in several human bodies; as I
once met with one, who was persuaded his had been the soul of Socrates
(how reasonably I will not dispute; this I know, that in the post he
filled, which was no inconsiderable one, he passed for a very rational
man, and the press has shown that he wanted not parts or learning;)-
would any one say, that he, being not conscious of any of Socrates's
actions or thoughts, could be the same person with Socrates? Let any
one reflect upon himself, and conclude that he has in himself an
immaterial spirit, which is that which thinks in him, and, in the
constant change of his body keeps him the same: and is that which he
calls himself: let him also suppose it to be the same soul that was in
Nestor or Thersites, at the siege of Troy, (for souls being, as far as
we know anything of them, in their nature indifferent to any parcel of
matter, the supposition has no apparent absurdity in it), which it may
have been, as well as it is now the soul of any other man: but he
now having no consciousness of any of the actions either of Nestor
or Thersites, does or can he conceive himself the same person with
either of them? Can he be concerned in either of their actions?
attribute them to himself, or think them his own, more than the
actions of any other men that ever existed? So that this
consciousness, not reaching to any of the actions of either of those
men, he is no more one self with either of them than if the soul or
immaterial spirit that now informs him had been created, and began
to exist, when it began to inform his present body; though it were
never so true, that the same spirit that informed Nestor's or
Thersites' body were numerically the same that now informs his. For
this would no more make him the same person with Nestor, than if
some of the particles of matter that were once a part of Nestor were
now a part of this man; the same immaterial substance, without the
same consciousness, no more making the same person, by being united to
any body, than the same particle of matter, without consciousness,
united to any body, makes the same person. But let him once find
himself conscious of any of the actions of Nestor, he then finds
himself the same person with Nestor.
15. The body, as well as the soul, goes to the making of a man.
And thus may we be able, without any difficulty, to conceive the
same person at the resurrection, though in a body not exactly in
make or parts the same which he had here,- the same consciousness
going along with the soul that inhabits it. But yet the soul alone, in
the change of bodies, would scarce to any one but to him that makes
the soul the man, be enough to make the same man. For should the
soul of a prince, carrying with it the consciousness of the prince's
past life, enter and inform the body of a cobbler, as soon as deserted
by his own soul, every one sees he would be the same person with the
prince, accountable only for the prince's actions: but who would say
it was the same man? The body too goes to the making the man, and
would, I guess, to everybody determine the man in this case, wherein
the soul, with all its princely thoughts about it, would not make
another man: but he would be the same cobbler to every one besides
himself. I know that, in the ordinary way of speaking, the same
person, and the same man, stand for one and the same thing. And indeed
every one will always have a liberty to speak as he pleases, and to
apply what articulate sounds to what ideas he thinks fit, and change
them as often as he pleases. But yet, when we will inquire what
makes the same spirit, man, or person, we must fix the ideas of
spirit, man, or person in our minds; and having resolved with
ourselves what we mean by them, it will not be hard to determine, in
either of them, or the like, when it is the same, and when not.
16. Consciousness alone unites actions into the same person. But
though the same immaterial substance or soul does not alone,
wherever it be, and in whatsoever state, make the same man; yet it
is plain, consciousness, as far as ever it can be extended- should
it be to ages past- unites existences and actions very remote in
time into the same person, as well as it does the existences and
actions of the immediately preceding moment: so that whatever has
the consciousness of present and past actions, is the same person to
whom they both belong. Had I the same consciousness that I saw the ark
and Noah's flood, as that I saw an overflowing of the Thames last
winter, or as that I write now, I could no more doubt that I who write
this now, that saw' the Thames overflowed last winter, and that viewed
the flood at the general deluge, was the same self,- place that self
in what substance you please- than that I who write this am the same
myself now whilst I write (whether I consist of all the same
substance, material or immaterial, or no) that I was yesterday. For as
to this point of being the same self, it matters not whether this
present self be made up of the same or other substances- I being as
much concerned, and as justly accountable for any action that was done
a thousand years since, appropriated to me now by this
self-consciousness, as I am for what I did the last moment.
17. Self depends on consciousness, not on substance. Self is that
conscious thinking thing,- whatever substance made up of, (whether
spiritual or material, simple or compounded, it matters not)- which is
sensible or conscious of pleasure and pain, capable of happiness or
misery, and so is concerned for itself, as far as that consciousness
extends. Thus every one finds that, whilst comprehended under that
consciousness, the little finger is as much a part of himself as
what is most so. Upon separation of this little finger, should this
consciousness go along with the little finger, and leave the rest of
the body, it is evident the little finger would be the person, the
same person; and self then would have nothing to do with the rest of
the body. As in this case it is the consciousness that goes along with
the substance, when one part is separate from another, which makes the
same person, and constitutes this inseparable self: so it is in
reference to substances remote in time. That with which the
consciousness of this present thinking thing can join itself, makes
the same person, and is one self with it, and with nothing else; and
so attributes to itself, and owns all the actions of that thing, as
its own, as far as that consciousness reaches, and no further; as
every one who reflects will perceive.
18. Persons, not substances, the objects of reward and punishment.
In this personal identity is founded all the right and justice of
reward and punishment; happiness and misery being that for which every
one is concerned for himself, and not mattering what becomes of any
substance, not joined to, or affected with that consciousness. For, as
it is evident in the instance I gave but now, if the consciousness
went along with the little finger when it was cut off, that would be
the same self which was concerned for the whole body yesterday, as
making part of itself, whose actions then it cannot but admit as its
own now. Though, if the same body should still live, and immediately
from the separation of the little finger have its own peculiar
consciousness, whereof the little finger knew nothing, it would not at
all be concerned for it, as a part of itself, or could own any of
its actions, or have any of them imputed to him.
19. Which shows wherein personal identity consists. This may show us
wherein personal identity consists: not in the identity of
substance, but, as I have said, in the identity of consciousness,
wherein if Socrates and the present mayor of Queinborough agree,
they are the same person: if the same Socrates waking and sleeping
do not partake of the same consciousness, Socrates waking and sleeping
is not the same person. And to punish Socrates waking for what
sleeping Socrates thought, and waking Socrates was never conscious of,
would be no more of right, than to punish one twin for what his
brother-twin did, whereof he knew nothing, because their outsides were
so like, that they could not be distinguished; for such twins have
been seen.
20. Absolute oblivion separates what is thus forgotten from the
person, but not from the man. But yet possibly it will still be
objected,- Suppose I wholly lose the memory of some parts of my
life, beyond a possibility of retrieving them, so that perhaps I shall
never be conscious of them again; yet am I not the same person that
did those actions, had those thoughts that I once was conscious of,
though I have now forgot them? To which I answer, that we must here
take notice what the word I is applied to; which, in this case, is the
man only. And the same man being presumed to be the same person, I
is easily here supposed to stand also for the same person. But if it
be possible for the same man to have distinct incommunicable
consciousness at different times, it is past doubt the same man
would at different times make different persons; which, we see, is the
sense of mankind in the solemnest declaration of their opinions, human
laws not punishing the mad man for the sober man's actions, nor the
sober man for what the mad man did,- thereby making them two
persons: which is somewhat explained by our way of speaking in English
when we say such an one is "not himself," or is "beside himself"; in
which phrases it is insinuated, as if those who now, or at least first
used them, thought that self was changed; the selfsame person was no
longer in that man.
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