AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING.
CONTENTS
I. Of the Different Species of Philosophy
II. Of the Origin of Ideas
III. Of the Association of Ideas
IV. Sceptical Doubts Concerning the Operations of the Understanding
V. Sceptical Solution of these Doubts
VI. Of Probability
VII. Of the Idea of Necessary Connexion
VIII. Of Liberty and Necessity
IX. Of the Reason of Animals
X. Of Miracles
XI. Of a Particular Providence and of a Future State
XII. Of the Academical or Sceptical Philosophy
Footnotes

SECTION 1.
OF THE DIFFERENT SPECIES OF PHILOSOPHY.
1. Moral philosophy, or the science of human nature, may be treated
after two different manners; each of which has its peculiar merit, and
may contribute to the entertainment, instruction, and reformation of
mankind. The one considers man chiefly as born for action; and as
influenced in his measures by taste and sentiment; pursuing one object,
and avoiding another, according to the value which these objects seem to
possess, and according to the light in which they present themselves. As
virtue, of all objects, is allowed to be the most valuable, this species
of philosophers paint her in the most amiable colours; borrowing all
helps from poetry and eloquence, and treating their subject in an easy
and obvious manner, and such as is best fitted to please the
imagination, and engage the affections. They select the most striking
observations and instances from common life; place opposite characters
in a proper contrast; and alluring us into the paths of virtue by the
views of glory and happiness, direct our steps in these paths by the
soundest precepts and most illustrious examples. They make us feel the
difference between vice and virtue; they excite and regulate our
sentiments; and so they can but bend our hearts to the love of probity
and true honour, they think, that they have fully attained the end of
all their labours.
2. The other species of philosophers consider man in the light of a
reasonable rather than an active being, and endeavour to form his
understanding more than cultivate his manners. They regard human nature
as a subject of speculation; and with a narrow scrutiny examine it, in
order to find those principles, which regulate our understanding, excite
our sentiments, and make us approve or blame any particular object,
action, or behaviour. They think it a reproach to all literature, that
philosophy should not yet have fixed, beyond controversy, the foundation
of morals, reasoning, and criticism; and should for ever talk of truth
and falsehood, vice and virtue, beauty and deformity, without being able
to determine the source of these distinctions. While they attempt this
arduous task, they are deterred by no difficulties; but proceeding from
particular instances to general principles, they still push on their
enquiries to principles more general, and rest not satisfied till they
arrive at those original principles, by which, in every science, all
human curiosity must be bounded. Though their speculations seem
abstract, and even unintelligible to common readers, they aim at the
approbation of the learned and the wise; and think themselves
sufficiently compensated for the labour of their whole lives, if they
can discover some hidden truths, which may contribute to the instruction
of posterity.
3. It is certain that the easy and obvious philosophy will always,
with the generality of mankind, have the preference above the accurate
and abstruse; and by many will be recommended, not only as more
agreeable, but more useful than the other. It enters more into common
life; moulds the heart and affections; and, by touching those principles
which actuate men, reforms their conduct, and brings them nearer to that
model of perfection which it describes. On the contrary, the abstruse
philosophy, being founded on a turn of mind, which cannot enter into
business and action, vanishes when the philosopher leaves the shade, and
comes into open day; nor can its principles easily retain any influence
over our conduct and behaviour. The feelings of our heart, the agitation
of our passions, the vehemence of our affections, dissipate all its
conclusions, and reduce the profound philosopher to a mere plebeian.
4. This also must be confessed, that the most durable, as well as
justest fame, has been acquired by the easy philosophy, and that
abstract reasoners seem hitherto to have enjoyed only a momentary
reputation, from the caprice or ignorance of their own age, but have not
been able to support their renown with more equitable posterity. It is
easy for a profound philosopher to commit a mistake in his subtile
reasonings; and one mistake is the necessary parent of another, while he
pushes on his consequences, and is not deterred from embracing any
conclusion, by its unusual appearance, or its contradiction to popular
opinion. But a philosopher, who purposes only to represent the common
sense of mankind in more beautiful and more engaging colours, if by
accident he falls into error, goes no farther; but renewing his appeal
to common sense, and the natural sentiments of the mind, returns into
the right path, and secures himself from any dangerous illusions. The
fame of Cicero flourishes at present; but that of Aristotle is utterly
decayed. La Bruyere passes the seas, and still maintains his reputation:
But the glory of Malebranche is confined to his own nation, and to his
own age. And Addison, perhaps, will be read with pleasure, when Locke
shall be entirely forgotten.
The mere philosopher is a character, which is commonly but little
acceptable in the world, as being supposed to contribute nothing either
to the advantage or pleasure of society; while he lives remote from
communication with mankind, and is wrapped up in principles and notions
equally remote from their comprehension. On the other hand, the mere
ignorant is still more despised; nor is any thing deemed a surer sign of
an illiberal genius in an age and nation where the sciences flourish,
than to be entirely destitute of all relish for those noble
entertainments. The most perfect character is supposed to lie between
those extremes; retaining an equal ability and taste for books, company,
and business; preserving in conversation that discernment and delicacy
which arise from polite letters; and in business, that probity and
accuracy which are the natural result of a just philosophy. In order to
diffuse and cultivate so accomplished a character, nothing can be more
useful than compositions of the easy style and manner, which draw not
too much from life, require no deep application or retreat to be
comprehended, and send back the student among mankind full of noble
sentiments and wise precepts, applicable to every exigence of human
life. By means of such compositions, virtue becomes amiable, science
agreeable, company instructive, and retirement entertaining.
Man is a reasonable being; and as such, receives from science his
proper food and nourishment: But so narrow are the bounds of human
understanding, that little satisfaction can be hoped for in this
particular, either from the extent of security or his acquisitions. Man
is a sociable, no less than a reasonable being: But neither can he
always enjoy company agreeable and amusing, or preserve the proper
relish for them. Man is also an active being; and from that disposition,
as well as from the various necessities of human life, must submit to
business and occupation: But the mind requires some relaxation, and
cannot always support its bent to care and industry. It seems, then,
that nature has pointed out a mixed kind of life as most suitable to the
human race, and secretly admonished them to allow none of these biasses
to draw too much, so as to incapacitate them for other occupations and
entertainments. Indulge your passion for science, says she, but let your
science be human, and such as may have a direct reference to action and
society. Abstruse thought and profound researches I prohibit, and will
severely punish, by the pensive melancholy which they introduce, by the
endless uncertainty in which they involve you, and by the cold reception
which your pretended discoveries shall meet with, when communicated. Be
a philosopher; but, amidst all your philosophy, be still a man.
5. Were the generality of mankind contented to prefer the easy
philosophy to the abstract and profound, without throwing any blame or
contempt on the latter, it might not be improper, perhaps, to comply
with this general opinion, and allow every man to enjoy, without
opposition, his own taste and sentiment. But as the matter is often
carried farther, even to the absolute rejecting of all profound
reasonings, or what is commonly called metaphysics, we shall now proceed
to consider what can reasonably be pleaded in their behalf.
We may begin with observing, that one considerable advantage, which
results from the accurate and abstract philosophy, is, its subserviency
to the easy and humane; which, without the former, can never attain a
sufficient degree of exactness in its sentiments, precepts, or
reasonings. All polite letters are nothing but pictures of human life in
various attitudes and situations; and inspire us with different
sentiments, of praise or blame, admiration or ridicule, according to the
qualities of the object, which they set before us. An artist must be
better qualified to succeed in this undertaking, who, besides a delicate
taste and a quick apprehension, possesses an accurate knowledge of the
internal fabric, the operations of the understanding, the workings of
the passions, and the various species of sentiment which discriminate
vice and virtue. How painful soever this inward search or enquiry may
appear, it becomes, in some measure, requisite to those, who would
describe with success the obvious and outward appearances of life and
manners. The anatomist presents to the eye the most hideous and
disagreeable objects; but his science is useful to the painter in
delineating even a Venus or an Helen. While the latter employs all the
richest colours of his art, and gives his figures the most graceful and
engaging airs; he must still carry his attention to the inward structure
of the human body, the position of the muscles, the fabric of the bones,
and the use and figure of every part or organ. Accuracy is, in every
case, advantageous to beauty, and just reasoning to delicate sentiment.
In vain would we exalt the one by depreciating the other.
Besides, we may observe, in every art or profession, even those which
most concern life or action, that a spirit of accuracy, however
acquired, carries all of them nearer their perfection, and renders them
more subservient to the interests of society. And though a philosopher
may live remote from business, the genius of philosophy, if carefully
cultivated by several, must gradually diffuse itself throughout the
whole society, and bestow a similar correctness on every art and
calling. The politician will acquire greater foresight and subtility, in
the subdividing and balancing of power; the lawyer more method and finer
principles in his reasonings; and the general more regularity in his
discipline, and more caution in his plans and operations. The stability
of modern governments above the ancient, and the accuracy of modern
philosophy, have improved, and probably will still improve, by similar
gradations.
6. Were there no advantage to be reaped from these studies, beyond
the gratification of an innocent curiosity, yet ought not even this to
be despised; as being one accession to those few safe and harmless
pleasures, which are bestowed on human race. The sweetest and most
inoffensive path of life leads through the avenues of science and
learning; and whoever can either remove any obstructions in this way, or
open up any new prospect, ought so far to be esteemed a benefactor to
mankind. And though these researches may appear painful and fatiguing,
it is with some minds as with some bodies, which being endowed with
vigorous and florid health, require severe exercise, and reap a pleasure
from what, to the generality of mankind, may seem burdensome and
laborious. Obscurity, indeed, is painful to the mind as well as to the
eye; but to bring light from obscurity, by whatever labour, must needs
be delightful and rejoicing.
But this obscurity in the profound and abstract philosophy, is
objected to, not only as painful and fatiguing, but as the inevitable
source of uncertainty and error. Here indeed lies the justest and most
plausible objection against a considerable part of metaphysics, that
they are not properly a science; but arise either from the fruitless
efforts of human vanity, which would penetrate into subjects utterly
inaccessible to the understanding, or from the craft of popular
superstitions, which, being unable to defend themselves on fair ground,
raise these intangling brambles to cover and protect their weakness.
Chaced from the open country, these robbers fly into the forest, and lie
in wait to break in upon every unguarded avenue of the mind, and
overwhelm it with religious fears and prejudices. The stoutest
antagonist, if he remit his watch a moment, is oppressed. And many,
through cowardice and folly, open the gates to the enemies, and
willingly receive them with reverence and submission, as their legal
sovereigns.
7. But is this a sufficient reason, why philosophers should desist
from such researches, and leave superstition still in possession of her
retreat? Is it not proper to draw an opposite conclusion, and perceive
the necessity of carrying the war into the most secret recesses of the
enemy? In vain do we hope, that men, from frequent disappointment, will
at last abandon such airy sciences, and discover the proper province of
human reason. For, besides, that many persons find too sensible an
interest in perpetually recalling such topics; besides this, I say, the
motive of blind despair can never reasonably have place in the sciences;
since, however unsuccessful former attempts may have proved, there is
still room to hope, that the industry, good fortune, or improved
sagacity of succeeding generations may reach discoveries unknown to
former ages. Each adventurous genius will still leap at the arduous
prize, and find himself stimulated, rather that discouraged, by the
failures of his predecessors; while he hopes that the glory of achieving
so hard an adventure is reserved for him alone. The only method of
freeing learning, at once, from these abstruse questions, is to enquire
seriously into the nature of human understanding, and show, from an
exact analysis of its powers and capacity, that it is by no means fitted
for such remote and abstruse subjects. We must submit to this fatigue,
in order to live at ease ever after: And must cultivate true metaphysics
with some care, in order to destroy the false and adulterate. Indolence,
which, to some persons, affords a safeguard against this deceitful
philosophy, is, with others, overbalanced by curiosity; and despair,
which, at some moments, prevails, may give place afterwards to sanguine
hopes and expectations. Accurate and just reasoning is the only catholic
remedy, fitted for all persons and all dispositions; and is alone able
to subvert that abstruse philosophy and metaphysical jargon, which,
being mixed up with popular superstition, renders it in a manner
impenetrable to careless reasoners, and gives it the air of science and
wisdom.
8. Besides this advantage of rejecting, after deliberate enquiry, the
most uncertain and disagreeable part of learning, there are many
positive advantages, which result from an accurate scrutiny into the
powers and faculties of human nature. It is remarkable concerning the
operations of the mind, that, though most intimately present to us, yet,
whenever they become the object of reflexion, they seem involved in
obscurity; nor can the eye readily find those lines and boundaries,
which discriminate and distinguish them. The objects are too fine to
remain long in the same aspect or situation; and must be apprehended in
an instant, by a superior penetration, derived from nature, and improved
by habit and reflexion. It becomes, therefore, no inconsiderable part of
science barely to know the different operations of the mind, to separate
them from each other, to class them under their proper heads, and to
correct all that seeming disorder, in which they lie involved, when made
the object of reflexion and enquiry. This talk of ordering and
distinguishing, which has no merit, when performed with regard to
external bodies, the objects of our senses, rises in its value, when
directed towards the operations of the mind, in proportion to the
difficulty and labour, which we meet with in performing it. And if we
can go no farther than this mental geography, or delineation of the
distinct parts and powers of the mind, it is at least a satisfaction to
go so far; and the more obvious this science may appear (and it is by no
means obvious) the more contemptible still must the ignorance of it be
esteemed, in all pretenders to learning and philosophy.
Nor can there remain any suspicion, that this science is uncertain
and chimerical; unless we should entertain such a scepticism as is
entirely subversive of all speculation, and even action. It cannot be
doubted, that the mind is endowed with several powers and faculties,
that these powers are distinct from each other, that what is really
distinct to the immediate perception may be distinguished by reflexion;
and consequently, that there is a truth and falsehood in all
propositions on this subject, and a truth and falsehood, which lie not
beyond the compass of human understanding. There are many obvious
distinctions of this kind, such as those between the will and
understanding, the imagination and passions, which fall within the
comprehension of every human creature; and the finer and more
philosophical distinctions are no less real and certain, though more
difficult to be comprehended. Some instances, especially late ones, of
success in these enquiries, may give us a juster notion of the certainty
and solidity of this branch of learning. And shall we esteem it worthy
the labour of a philosopher to give us a true system of the planets, and
adjust the position and order of those remote bodies; while we affect to
overlook those, who, with so much success, delineate the parts of the
mind, in which we are so intimately concerned?
9. But may we not hope, that philosophy, if cultivated with care, and
encouraged by the attention of the public, may carry its researches
still farther, and discover, at least in some degree, the secret springs
and principles, by which the human mind is actuated in its operations?
Astronomers had long contented themselves with proving, from the
phaenomena, the true motions, order, and magnitude of the heavenly
bodies: Till a philosopher, at last, arose, who seems, from the happiest
reasoning, to have also determined the laws and forces, by which the
revolutions of the planets are governed and directed. The like has been
performed with regard to other parts of nature. And there is no reason
to despair of equal success in our enquiries concerning the mental
powers and economy, if prosecuted with equal capacity and caution. It is
probable, that one operation and principle of the mind depends on
another; which, again, may be resolved into one more general and
universal: And how far these researches may possibly be carried, it will
be difficult for us, before, or even after, a careful trial, exactly to
determine. This is certain, that attempts of this kind are every day
made even by those who philosophize the most negligently: And nothing
can be more requisite than to enter upon the enterprize with thorough
care and attention; that, if it lie within the compass of human
understanding, it may at last be happily achieved; if not, it may,
however, be rejected with some confidence and security. This last
conclusion, surely, is not desirable; nor ought it to be embraced too
rashly. For how much must we diminish from the beauty and value of this
species of philosophy, upon such a supposition? Moralists have hitherto
been accustomed, when they considered the vast multitude and diversity
of those actions that excite our approbation or dislike, to search for
some common principle, on which this variety of sentiments might depend.
And though they have sometimes carried the matter too far, by their
passion for some one general principle; it must, however, be confessed,
that they are excusable in expecting to find some general principles,
into which all the vices and virtues were justly to be resolved. The
like has been the endeavour of critics, logicians, and even politicians:
Nor have their attempts been wholly unsuccessful; though perhaps longer
time, greater accuracy, and more ardent application may bring these
sciences still nearer their perfection. To throw up at once all
pretensions of this kind may justly be deemed more rash, precipitate,
and dogmatical, than even the boldest and most affirmative philosophy,
that has ever attempted to impose its crude dictates and principles on
mankind.
10. What though these reasonings concerning human nature seem
abstract, and of difficult comprehension? This affords no presumption of
their falsehood. On the contrary, it seems impossible, that what has
hitherto escaped so many wise and profound philosophers can be very
obvious and easy. And whatever pains these researches may cost us, we
may think ourselves sufficiently rewarded, not only in point of profit
but of pleasure, if, by that means, we can make any addition to our
stock of knowledge, in subjects of such unspeakable importance.
But as, after all, the abstractedness of these speculations is no
recommendation, but rather a disadvantage to them, and as this
difficulty may perhaps be surmounted by care and art, and the avoiding
of all unnecessary detail, we have, in the following enquiry, attempted
to throw some light upon subjects, from which uncertainty has hitherto
deterred the wise, and obscurity the ignorant. Happy, if we can unite
the boundaries of the different species of philosophy, by reconciling
profound enquiry with clearness, and truth with novelty! And still more
happy, if, reasoning in this easy manner, we can undermine the
foundations of an abstruse philosophy, which seems to have hitherto
served only as a shelter to superstition, and a cover to absurdity and
error!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
SECTION II
OF THE ORIGIN OF IDEAS.
11. Every one will readily allow, that there is a considerable
difference between the perceptions of the mind, when a man feels the
pain of excessive heat, or the pleasure of moderate warmth, and when he
afterwards recalls to his memory this sensation, or anticipates it by
his imagination. These faculties may mimic or copy the perceptions of
the senses; but they never can entirely reach the force and vivacity of
the original sentiment. The utmost we say of them, even when they
operate with greatest vigour, is, that they represent their object in so
lively a manner, that we could almost say we feel or see it: But, except
the mind be disordered by disease or madness, they never can arrive at
such a pitch of vivacity, as to render these perceptions altogether
undistinguishable. All the colours of poetry, however splendid, can
never paint natural objects in such a manner as to make the description
be taken for a real landskip. The most lively thought is still inferior
to the dullest sensation.
We may observe a like distinction to run through all the other
perceptions of the mind. A man in a fit of anger, is actuated in a very
different manner from one who only thinks of that emotion. If you tell
me, that any person is in love, I easily understand your meaning, and
form a just conception of his situation; but never can mistake that
conception for the real disorders and agitations of the passion. When we
reflect on our past sentiments and affections, our thought is a faithful
mirror, and copies its objects truly; but the colours which it employs
are faint and dull, in comparison of those in which our original
perceptions were clothed. It requires no nice discernment or
metaphysical head to mark the distinction between them.
12. Here therefore we may divide all the perceptions of the mind into
two classes or species, which are distinguished by their different
degrees of force and vivacity. The less forcible and lively are commonly
denominated Thoughts or Ideas. The other species want a name in our
language, and in most others; I suppose, because it was not requisite
for any, but philosophical purposes, to rank them under a general term
or appellation. Let us, therefore, use a little freedom, and call them
Impressions; employing that word in a sense somewhat different from the
usual. By the term impression, then, I mean all our more lively
perceptions, when we hear, or see, or feel, or love, or hate, or desire,
or will. And impressions are distinguished from ideas, which are the
less lively perceptions, of which we are conscious, when we reflect on
any of those sensations or movements above mentioned.
13. Nothing, at first view, may seem more unbounded than the thought
of man, which not only escapes all human power and authority, but is not
even restrained within the limits of nature and reality. To form
monsters, and join incongruous shapes and appearances, costs the
imagination no more trouble than to conceive the most natural and
familiar objects. And while the body is confined to one planet, along
which it creeps with pain and difficulty; the thought can in an instant
transport us into the most distant regions of the universe; or even
beyond the universe, into the unbounded chaos, where nature is supposed
to lie in total confusion. What never was seen, or heard of, may yet be
conceived; nor is any thing beyond the power of thought, except what
implies an absolute contradiction.
But though our thought seems to possess this unbounded liberty, we
shall find, upon a nearer examination, that it is really confined within
very narrow limits, and that all this creative power of the mind amounts
to no more than the faculty of compounding, transposing, augmenting, or
diminishing the materials afforded us by the senses and experience. When
we think of a golden mountain, we only join two consistent ideas, gold,
and mountain, with which we were formerly acquainted. A virtuous horse
we can conceive; because, from our own feeling, we can conceive virtue;
and this we may unite to the figure and shape of a horse, which is an
animal familiar to us. In short, all the materials of thinking are
derived either from our outward or inward sentiment: the mixture and
composition of these belongs alone to the mind and will. Or, to express
myself in philosophical language, all our ideas or more feeble
perceptions are copies of our impressions or more lively ones.
14. To prove this, the two following arguments will, I hope, be
sufficient. First, when we analyze our thoughts or ideas, however
compounded or sublime, we always find that they resolve themselves into
such simple ideas as were copied from a precedent feeling or sentiment.
Even those ideas, which, at first view, seem the most wide of this
origin, are found, upon a nearer scrutiny, to be derived from it. The
idea of God, as meaning an infinitely intelligent, wise, and good Being,
arises from reflecting on the operations of our own mind, and
augmenting, without limit, those qualities of goodness and wisdom. We
may prosecute this enquiry to what length we please; where we shall
always find, that every idea which we examine is copied from a similar
impression. Those who would assert that this position is not universally
true nor without exception, have only one, and that an easy method of
refuting it; by producing that idea, which, in their opinion, is not
derived from this source. It will then be incumbent on us, if we would
maintain our doctrine, to produce the impression, or lively perception,
which corresponds to it.
15. Secondly. If it happen, from a defect of the organ, that a man is
not susceptible of any species of sensation, we always find that he is
as little susceptible of the correspondent ideas. A blind man can form
no notion of colours; a deaf man of sounds. Restore either of them that
sense in which he is deficient; by opening this new inlet for his
sensations, you also open an inlet for the ideas; and he finds no
difficulty in conceiving these objects. The case is the same, if the
object, proper for exciting any sensation, has never been applied to the
organ. A Laplander or Negro has no notion of the relish of wine. And
though there are few or no instances of a like deficiency in the mind,
where a person has never felt or is wholly incapable of a sentiment or
passion that belongs to his species; yet we find the same observation to
take place in a less degree. A man of mild manners can form no idea of
inveterate revenge or cruelty; nor can a selfish heart easily conceive
the heights of friendship and generosity. It is readily allowed, that
other beings may possess many senses of which we can have no conception;
because the ideas of them have never been introduced to us in the only
manner by which an idea can have access to the mind, to wit, by the
actual feeling and sensation.
16. There is, however, one contradictory phenomenon, which may prove
that it is not absolutely impossible for ideas to arise, independent of
their correspondent impressions. I believe it will readily be allowed,
that the several distinct ideas of colour, which enter by the eye, or
those of sound, which are conveyed by the ear, are really different from
each other; though, at the same time, resembling. Now if this be true of
different colours, it must be no less so of the different shades of the
same colour; and each shade produces a distinct idea, independent of the
rest. For if this should be denied, it is possible, by the continual
gradation of shades, to run a colour insensibly into what is most remote
from it; and if you will not allow any of the means to be different, you
cannot, without absurdity, deny the extremes to be the same. Suppose,
therefore, a person to have enjoyed his sight for thirty years, and to
have become perfectly acquainted with colours of all kinds except one
particular shade of blue, for instance, which it never has been his
fortune to meet with. Let all the different shades of that colour,
except that single one, be placed before him, descending gradually from
the deepest to the lightest; it is plain that he will perceive a blank,
where that shade is wanting, and will be sensible that there is a
greater distance in that place between the contiguous colours than in
any other. Now I ask, whether it be possible for him, from his own
imagination, to supply this deficiency, and raise up to himself the idea
of that particular shade, though it had never been conveyed to him by
his senses? I believe there are few but will be of opinion that he can:
and this may serve as a proof that the simple ideas are not always, in
every instance, derived from the correspondent impressions; though this
instance is so singular, that it is scarcely worth our observing, and
does not merit that for it alone we should alter our general maxim.
17. Here, therefore, is a proposition, which not only seems, in
itself, simple and intelligible; but, if a proper use were made of it,
might render every dispute equally intelligible, and banish all that
jargon, which has so long taken possession of metaphysical reasonings,
and drawn disgrace upon them. All ideas, especially abstract ones, are
naturally faint and obscure: the mind has but a slender hold of them:
they are apt to be confounded with other resembling ideas; and when we
have often employed any term, though without a distinct meaning, we are
apt to imagine it has a determinate idea annexed to it. On the contrary,
all impressions, that is, all sensations, either outward or inward, are
strong and vivid: the limits between them are more exactly determined:
nor is it easy to fall into any error or mistake with regard to them.
When we entertain, therefore, any suspicion that a philosophical term is
employed without any meaning or idea (as is but too frequent), we need
but enquire, from what impression is that supposed idea derived? And if
it be impossible to assign any, this will serve to confirm our
suspicion. By bringing ideas into so clear a light we may reasonably
hope to remove all dispute, which may arise, concerning their nature and
reality.1
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
SECTION III.
OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS.
18. It is evident that there is a principle of connexion between the
different thoughts or ideas of the mind, and that, in their appearance
to the memory or imagination, they introduce each other with a certain
degree of method and regularity. In our more serious thinking or
discourse this is so observable that any particular thought, which
breaks in upon the regular tract or chain of ideas, is immediately
remarked and rejected. And even in our wildest and most wandering
reveries, nay in our very dreams, we shall find, if we reflect, that the
imagination ran not altogether at adventures, but that there was still a
connexion upheld among the different ideas, which succeeded each other.
Were the loosest and freest conversation to be transcribed, there would
immediately be observed something which connected it in all its
transitions. Or where this is wanting, the person who broke the thread
of discourse might still inform you, that there had secretly revolved in
his mind a succession of thought, which had gradually led him from the
subject of conversation. Among different languages, even where we cannot
suspect the least connexion or communication, it is found, that the
words, expressive of ideas, the most compounded, do yet nearly
correspond to each other: a certain proof that the simple ideas,
comprehended in the compound ones, were bound together by some universal
principle, which had an equal influence on all mankind.
19. Though it be too obvious to escape observation, that different
ideas are connected together; I do not find that any philosopher has
attempted to enumerate or class all the principles of association; a
subject, however, that seems worthy of curiosity. To me, there appear to
be only three principles of connexion among ideas, namely, Resemblance,
Contiguity in time or place, and Cause or Effect.
That these principles serve to connect ideas will not, I believe, be
much doubted. A picture naturally leads our thoughts to the original2:
the mention of one apartment in a building naturally introduces an
enquiry or discourse concerning the others3: and if we think of a wound,
we can scarcely forbear reflecting on the pain which follows it4. But
that this enumeration is complete, and that there are no other
principles of association except these, may be difficult to prove to the
satisfaction of the reader, or even to a man's own satisfaction. All we
can do, in such cases, is to run over several instances, and examine
carefully the principle which binds the different thoughts to each
other, never stopping till we render the principle as general as
possible5. The more instances we examine, and the more care we employ,
the more assurance shall we acquire, that the enumeration, which we form
from the whole, is complete and entire.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
SECTION IV.
SCEPTICAL DOUBTS CONCERNING THE OPERATIONS OF THE UNDERSTANDING.
PART I.
20. All the objects of human reason or enquiry may naturally be divided
into two kinds, to wit, Relations of Ideas, and Matters of Fact. Of the
first kind are the sciences of Geometry, Algebra, and Arithmetic; and in
short, every affirmation which is either intuitively or demonstratively
certain. That the square of the hypothenuse is equal to the square of
the two sides, is a proposition which expresses a relation between these
figures. That three times five is equal to the half of thirty, expresses
a relation between these numbers. Propositions of this kind are
discoverable by the mere operation of thought, without dependence on
what is anywhere existent in the universe. Though there never were a
circle or triangle in nature, the truths demonstrated by Euclid would
for ever retain their certainty and evidence.
21. Matters of fact, which are the second objects of human reason,
are not ascertained in the same manner; nor is our evidence of their
truth, however great, of a like nature with the foregoing. The contrary
of every matter of fact is still possible; because it can never imply a
contradiction, and is conceived by the mind with the same facility and
distinctness, as if ever so conformable to reality. That the sun will
not rise to-morrow is no less intelligible a proposition, and implies no
more contradiction than the affirmation, that it will rise. We should in
vain, therefore, attempt to demonstrate its falsehood. Were it
demonstratively false, it would imply a contradiction, and could never
be distinctly conceived by the mind.
It may, therefore, be a subject worthy of curiosity, to enquire what
is the nature of that evidence which assures us of any real existence
and matter of fact, beyond the present testimony of our senses, or the
records of our memory. This part of philosophy, it is observable, has
been little cultivated, either by the ancients or moderns; and therefore
our doubts and errors, in the prosecution of so important an enquiry,
may be the more excusable; while we march through such difficult paths
without any guide or direction. They may even prove useful, by exciting
curiosity, and destroying that implicit faith and security, which is the
bane of all reasoning and free enquiry. The discovery of defects in the
common philosophy, if any such there be, will not, I presume, be a
discouragement, but rather an incitement, as is usual, to attempt
something more full and satisfactory than has yet been proposed to the
public.
22. All reasonings concerning matter of fact seem to be founded on
the relation of Cause and Effect. By means of that relation alone we can
go beyond the evidence of our memory and senses. If you were to ask a
man, why he believes any matter of fact, which is absent; for instance,
that his friend is in the country, or in France; he would give you a
reason; and this reason would be some other fact; as a letter received
from him, or the knowledge of his former resolutions and promises. A man
finding a watch or any other machine in a desert island, would conclude
that there had once been men in that island. All our reasonings
concerning fact are of the same nature. And here it is constantly
supposed that there is a connexion between the present fact and that
which is inferred from it. Were there nothing to bind them together, the
inference would be entirely precarious. The hearing of an articulate
voice and rational discourse in the dark assures us of the presence of
some person: Why? because these are the effects of the human make and
fabric, and closely connected with it. If we anatomize all the other
reasonings of this nature, we shall find that they are founded on the
relation of cause and effect, and that this relation is either near or
remote, direct or collateral. Heat and light are collateral effects of
fire, and the one effect may justly be inferred from the other.
23. If we would satisfy ourselves, therefore, concerning the nature
of that evidence, which assures us of matters of fact, we must enquire
how we arrive at the knowledge of cause and effect.
I shall venture to affirm, as a general proposition, which admits of
no exception, that the knowledge of this relation is not, in any
instance, attained by reasonings a priori; but arises entirely from
experience, when we find that any particular objects are constantly
conjoined with each other. Let an object be presented to a man of ever
so strong natural reason and abilities; if that object be entirely new
to him, he will not be able, by the most accurate examination of its
sensible qualities, to discover any of its causes or effects. Adam,
though his rational faculties be supposed, at the very first, entirely
perfect, could not have inferred from the fluidity and transparency of
water that it would suffocate him, or from the light and warmth of fire
that it would consume him. No object ever discovers, by the qualities
which appear to the senses, either the causes which produced it, or the
effects which will arise from it; nor can our reason, unassisted by
experience, ever draw any inference concerning real existence and matter
of fact.
24. This proposition, that causes and effects are discoverable, not
by reason but by experience, will readily be admitted with regard to
such objects, as we remember to have once been altogether unknown to us;
since we must be conscious of the utter inability, which we then lay
under, of foretelling what would arise from them. Present two smooth
pieces of marble to a man who has no tincture of natural philosophy; he
will never discover that they will adhere together in such a manner as
to require great force to separate them in a direct line, while they
make so small a resistance to a lateral pressure. Such events, as bear
little analogy to the common course of nature, are also readily
confessed to be known only by experience; nor does any man imagine that
the explosion of gunpowder, or the attraction of a loadstone, could ever
be discovered by arguments a priori. In like manner, when an effect is
supposed to depend upon an intricate machinery or secret structure of
parts, we make no difficulty in attributing all our knowledge of it to
experience. Who will assert that he can give the ultimate reason, why
milk or bread is proper nourishment for a man, not for a lion or a
tiger?
But the same truth may not appear, at first sight, to have the same
evidence with regard to events, which have become familiar to us from
our first appearance in the world, which bear a close analogy to the
whole course of nature, and which are supposed to depend on the simple
qualities of objects, without any secret structure of parts. We are apt
to imagine that we could discover these effects by the mere operation of
our reason, without experience. We fancy, that were we brought on a
sudden into this world, we could at first have inferred that one
Billiard-ball would communicate motion to another upon impulse; and that
we needed not to have waited for the event, in order to pronounce with
certainty concerning it. Such is the influence of custom, that, where it
is strongest, it not only covers our natural ignorance, but even
conceals itself, and seems not to take place, merely because it is found
in the highest degree.
25. But to convince us that all the laws of nature, and all the
operations of bodies without exception, are known only by experience,
the following reflections may, perhaps, suffice. Were any object
presented to us, and were we required to pronounce concerning the
effect, which will result from it, without consulting past observation;
after what manner, I beseech you, must the mind proceed in this
operation? It must invent or imagine some event, which it ascribes to
the object as its effect; and it is plain that this invention must be
entirely arbitrary. The mind can never possibly find the effect in the
supposed cause, by the most accurate scrutiny and examination. For the
effect is totally different from the cause, and consequently can never
be discovered in it. Motion in the second Billiard-ball is a quite
distinct event from motion in the first; nor is there anything in the
one to suggest the smallest hint of the other. A stone or piece of metal
raised into the air, and left without any support, immediately falls:
but to consider the matter a priori, is there anything we discover in
this situation which can beget the idea of a downward, rather than an
upward, or any other motion, in the stone or metal? And as the first
imagination or invention of a particular effect, in all natural
operations, is arbitrary, where we consult not experience; so must we
also esteem the supposed tie or connexion between the cause and effect,
which binds them together, and renders it impossible that any other
effect could result from the operation of that cause. When I see, for
instance, a Billiard-ball moving in a straight line towards another;
even suppose motion in the second ball should by accident be suggested
to me, as the result of their contact or impulse; may I not conceive,
that a hundred different events might as well follow from that cause?
May not both these balls remain at absolute rest? May not the first ball
return in a straight line, or leap off from the second in any line or
direction? All these suppositions are consistent and conceivable. Why
then should we give the preference to one, which is no more consistent
or conceivable than the rest? All our reasonings a priori will never be
able to show us any foundation for this preference.
In a word, then, every effect is a distinct event from its cause. It
could not, therefore, be discovered in the cause, and the first
invention or conception of it, a priori, must be entirely arbitrary. And
even after it is suggested, the conjunction of it with the cause must
appear equally arbitrary; since there are always many other effects,
which, to reason, must seem fully as consistent and natural. In vain,
therefore, should we pretend to determine any single event, or infer any
cause or effect, without the assistance of observation and experience.
26. Hence we may discover the reason why no philosopher, who is
rational and modest, has ever pretended to assign the ultimate cause of
any natural operation, or to show distinctly the action of that power,
which produces any single effect in the universe. It is confessed, that
the utmost effort of human reason is to reduce the principles,
productive of natural phenomena, to a greater simplicity, and to resolve
the many particular effects into a few general causes, by means of
reasonings from analogy, experience, and observation. But as to the
causes of these general causes, we should in vain attempt their
discovery; nor shall we ever be able to satisfy ourselves, by any
particular explication of them. These ultimate springs and principles
are totally shut up from human curiosity and enquiry. Elasticity,
gravity, cohesion of parts, communication of motion by impulse; these
are probably the ultimate causes and principles which we shall ever
discover in nature; and we may esteem ourselves sufficiently happy, if,
by accurate enquiry and reasoning, we can trace up the particular
phenomena to, or near to, these general principles. The most perfect
philosophy of the natural kind only staves off our ignorance a little
longer: as perhaps the most perfect philosophy of the moral or
metaphysical kind serves only to discover larger portions of it. Thus
the observation of human blindness and weakness is the result of all
philosophy, and meets us at every turn, in spite of our endeavours to
elude or avoid it.
27. Nor is geometry, when taken into the assistance of natural
philosophy, ever able to remedy this defect, or lead us into the
knowledge of ultimate causes, by all that accuracy of reasoning for
which it is so justly celebrated. Every part of mixed mathematics
proceeds upon the supposition that certain laws are established by
nature in her operations; and abstract reasonings are employed, either
to assist experience in the discovery of these laws, or to determine
their influence in particular instances, where it depends upon any
precise degree of distance and quantity. Thus, it is a law of motion,
discovered by experience, that the moment or force of any body in motion
is in the compound ratio or proportion of its solid contents and its
velocity; and consequently, that a small force may remove the greatest
obstacle or raise the greatest weight, if, by any contrivance or
machinery, we can increase the velocity of that force, so as to make it
an overmatch for its antagonist. Geometry assists us in the application
of this law, by giving us the just dimensions of all the parts and
figures which can enter into any species of machine; but still the
discovery of the law itself is owing merely to experience, and all the
abstract reasonings in the world could never lead us one step towards
the knowledge of it. When we reason a priori, and consider merely any
object or cause, as it appears to the mind, independent of all
observation, it never could suggest to us the notion of any distinct
object, such as its effect; much less, show us the inseparable and
inviolable connexion between them. A man must be very sagacious who
could discover by reasoning that crystal is the effect of heat, and ice
of cold, without being previously acquainted with the operation of these
qualities.
PART II.
28. But we have not yet attained any tolerable satisfaction with regard
to the question first proposed. Each solution still gives rise to a new
question as difficult as the foregoing, and leads us on to farther
enquiries. When it is asked, What is the nature of all our reasonings
concerning matter of fact? the proper answer seems to be, that they are
founded on the relation of cause and effect. When again it is asked,
What is the foundation of all our reasonings and conclusions concerning
that relation? it may be replied in one word, Experience. But if we
still carry on our sifting humour, and ask, What is the foundation of
all conclusions from experience? this implies a new question, which may
be of more difficult solution and explication. Philosophers, that give
themselves airs of superior wisdom and sufficiency, have a hard task
when they encounter persons of inquisitive dispositions, who push them
from every corner to which they retreat, and who are sure at last to
bring them to some dangerous dilemma. The best expedient to prevent this
confusion, is to be modest in our pretensions; and even to discover the
difficulty ourselves before it is objected to us. By this means, we may
make a kind of merit of our very ignorance.
I shall content myself, in this section, with an easy task, and shall
pretend only to give a negative answer to the question here proposed. I
say then, that, even after we have experience of the operations of cause
and effect, our conclusions from that experience are not founded on
reasoning, or any process of the understanding. This answer we must
endeavour both to explain and to defend.
29. It must certainly be allowed, that nature has kept us at a great
distance from all her secrets, and has afforded us only the knowledge of
a few superficial qualities of objects; while she conceals from us those
powers and principles on which the influence of those objects entirely
depends. Our senses inform us of the colour, weight, and consistence of
bread; but neither sense nor reason can ever inform us of those
qualities which fit it for the nourishment and support of a human body.
Sight or feeling conveys an idea of the actual motion of bodies; but as
to that wonderful force or power, which would carry on a moving body for
ever in a continued change of place, and which bodies never lose but by
communicating it to others; of this we cannot form the most distant
conception. But notwithstanding this ignorance of natural powers6 and
principles, we always presume, when we see like sensible qualities, that
they have like secret powers, and expect that effects, similar to those
which we have experienced, will follow from them. If a body of like
colour and consistence with that bread, which we have formerly eat, be
presented to us, we make no scruple of repeating the experiment, and
foresee, with certainty, like nourishment and support. Now this is a
process of the mind or thought, of which I would willingly know the
foundation. It is allowed on all hands that there is no known connexion
between the sensible qualities and the secret powers; and consequently,
that the mind is not led to form such a conclusion concerning their
constant and regular conjunction, by anything which it knows of their
nature. As to past Experience, it can be allowed to give direct and
certain information of those precise objects only, and that precise
period of time, which fell under its cognizance: but why this experience
should be extended to future times, and to other objects, which for
aught we know, may be only in appearance similar; this is the main
question on which I would insist. The bread, which I formerly eat,
nourished me; that is, a body of such sensible qualities was, at that
time, endued with such secret powers: but does it follow, that other
bread must also nourish me at another time, and that like sensible
qualities must always be attended with like secret powers? The
consequence seems nowise necessary. At least, it must be acknowledged
that there is here a consequence drawn by the mind; that there is a
certain step taken; a process of thought, and an inference, which wants
to be explained. These two propositions are far from being the same, I
have found that such an object has always been attended with such an
effect, and I foresee, that other objects, which are, in appearance,
similar, will be attended with similar effects. I shall allow, if you
please, that the one proposition may justly be inferred from the other:
I know, in fact, that it always is inferred. But if you insist that the
inference is made by a chain of reasoning, I desire you to produce that
reasoning. The connexion between these propositions is not intuitive.
There is required a medium, which may enable the mind to draw such an
inference, if indeed it be drawn by reasoning and argument. What that
medium is, I must confess, passes my comprehension; and it is incumbent
on those to produce it, who assert that it really exists, and is the
origin of all our conclusions concerning matter of fact.
30. This negative argument must certainly, in process of time, become
altogether convincing, if many penetrating and able philosophers shall
turn their enquiries this way and no one be ever able to discover any
connecting proposition or intermediate step, which supports the
understanding in this conclusion. But as the question is yet new, every
reader may not trust so far to his own penetration, as to conclude,
because an argument escapes his enquiry, that therefore it does not
really exist. For this reason it may be requisite to venture upon a more
difficult task; and enumerating all the branches of human knowledge,
endeavour to show that none of them can afford such an argument.
All reasonings may be divided into two kinds, namely, demonstrative
reasoning, or that concerning relations of ideas, and moral reasoning,
or that concerning matter of fact and existence. That there are no
demonstrative arguments in the case seems evident; since it implies no
contradiction that the course of nature may change, and that an object,
seemingly like those which we have experienced, may be attended with
different or contrary effects. May I not clearly and distinctly conceive
that a body, falling from the clouds, and which, in all other respects,
resembles snow, has yet the taste of salt or feeling of fire? Is there
any more intelligible proposition than to affirm, that all the trees
will flourish in December and January, and decay in May and June? Now
whatever is intelligible, and can be distinctly conceived, implies no
contradiction, and can never be proved false by any demonstrative
argument or abstract reasoning priori.
If we be, therefore, engaged by arguments to put trust in past
experience, and make it the standard of our future judgement, these
arguments must be probable only, or such as regard matter of fact and
real existence, according to the division above mentioned. But that
there is no argument of this kind, must appear, if our explication of
that species of reasoning be admitted as solid and satisfactory. We have
said that all arguments concerning existence are founded on the relation
of cause and effect; that our knowledge of that relation is derived
entirely from experience; and that all our experimental conclusions
proceed upon the supposition that the future will be conformable to the
past. To endeavour, therefore, the proof of this last supposition by
probable arguments, or arguments regarding existence, must be evidently
going in a circle, and taking that for granted, which is the very point
in question.
31. In reality, all arguments from experience are founded on the
similarity which we discover among natural objects, and by which we are
induced to expect effects similar to those which we have found to follow
from such objects. And though none but a fool or madman will ever
pretend to dispute the authority of experience, or to reject that great
guide of human life, it may surely be allowed a philosopher to have so
much curiosity at least as to examine the principle of human nature,
which gives this mighty authority to experience, and makes us draw
advantage from that similarity which nature has placed among different
objects. From causes which appear similar we expect similar effects.
This is the sum of all our experimental conclusions. Now it seems
evident that, if this conclusion were formed by reason, it would be as
perfect at first, and upon one instance, as after ever so long a course
of experience. But the case is far otherwise. Nothing so like as eggs;
yet no one, on account of this appearing similarity, expects the same
taste and relish in all of them. It is only after a long course of
uniform experiments in any kind, that we attain a firm reliance and
security with regard to a particular event. Now where is that process of
reasoning which, from one instance, draws a conclusion, so different
from that which it infers from a hundred instances that are nowise
different from that single one? This question I propose as much for the
sake of information, as with an intention of raising difficulties. I
cannot find, I cannot imagine any such reasoning. But I keep my mind
still open to instruction, if any one will vouchsafe to bestow it on me.
32. Should it be said that, from a number of uniform experiments, we
infer a connexion between the sensible qualities and the secret powers;
this, I must confess, seems the same difficulty, couched in different
terms. The question still recurs, on what process of argument this
inference is founded? Where is the medium, the interposing ideas, which
join propositions so very wide of each other? It is confessed that the
colour, consistence, and other sensible qualities of bread appear not,
of themselves, to have any connexion with the secret powers of
nourishment and support. For otherwise we could infer these secret
powers from the first appearance of these sensible qualities, without
the aid of experience; contrary to the sentiment of all philosophers,
and contrary to plain matter of fact. Here, then, is our natural state
of ignorance with regard to the powers and influence of all objects. How
is this remedied by experience? It only shows us a number of uniform
effects, resulting from certain objects, and teaches us that those
particular objects, at that particular time, were endowed with such
powers and forces. When a new object, endowed with similar sensible
qualities, is produced, we expect similar powers and forces, and look
for a like effect. From a body of like colour and consistence with bread
we expect like nourishment and support. But this surely is a step or
progress of the mind, which wants to be explained. When a man says, I
have found, in all past instances, such sensible qualities conjoined
with such secret powers: And when he says, Similar sensible qualities
will always be conjoined with similar secret powers, he is not guilty of
a tautology, nor are these propositions in any respect the same. You say
that the one proposition is an inference from the other. But you must
confess that the inference is not intuitive; neither is it
demonstrative: Of what nature is it, then? To say it is experimental, is
begging the question. For all inferences from experience suppose, as
their foundation, that the future will resemble the past, and that
similar powers will be conjoined with similar sensible qualities. If
there be any suspicion that the course of nature may change, and that
the past may be no rule for the future, all experience becomes useless,
and can give rise to no inference or conclusion. It is impossible,
therefore, that any arguments from experience can prove this resemblance
of the past to the future; since all these arguments are founded on the
supposition of that resemblance. Let the course of things be allowed
hitherto ever so regular; that alone, without some new argument or
inference, proves not that, for the future, it will continue so. In vain
do you pretend to have learned the nature of bodies from your past
experience. Their secret nature, and consequently all their effects and
influence, may change, without any change in their sensible qualities.
This happens sometimes, and with regard to some objects: Why may it not
happen always, and with regard to all objects? What logic, what process
of argument secures you against this supposition? My practice, you say,
refutes my doubts. But you mistake the purport of my question. As an
agent, I am quite satisfied in the point; but as a philosopher, who has
some share of curiosity, I will not say scepticism, I want to learn the
foundation of this inference. No reading, no enquiry has yet been able
to remove my difficulty, or give me satisfaction in a matter of such
importance. Can I do better than propose the difficulty to the public,
even though, perhaps, I have small hopes of obtaining a solution? We
shall at least, by this means, be sensible of our ignorance, if we do
not augment our knowledge.
33. I must confess that a man is guilty of unpardonable arrogance who
concludes, because an argument has escaped his own investigation, that
therefore it does not really exist. I must also confess that, though all
the learned, for several ages, should have employed themselves in
fruitless search upon any subject, it may still, perhaps, be rash to
conclude positively that the subject must, therefore, pass all human
comprehension. Even though we examine all the sources of our knowledge,
and conclude them unfit for such a subject, there may still remain a
suspicion, that the enumeration is not complete, or the examination not
accurate. But with regard to the present subject, there are some
considerations which seem to remove all this accusation of arrogance or
suspicion of mistake.
It is certain that the most ignorant and stupid peasants—nay infants,
nay even brute beasts—improve by experience, and learn the qualities of
natural objects, by observing the effects which result from them. When a
child has felt the sensation of pain from touching the flame of a
candle, he will be careful not to put his hand near any candle; but will
expect a similar effect from a cause which is similar in its sensible
qualities and appearance. If you assert, therefore, that the
understanding of the child is led into this conclusion by any process of
argument or ratiocination, I may justly require you to produce that
argument; nor have you any pretence to refuse so equitable a demand. You
cannot say that the argument is abstruse, and may possibly escape your
enquiry; since you confess that it is obvious to the capacity of a mere
infant. If you hesitate, therefore, a moment, or if, after reflection,
you produce any intricate or profound argument, you, in a manner, give
up the question, and confess that it is not reasoning which engages us
to suppose the past resembling the future, and to expect similar effects
from causes which are, to appearance, similar. This is the proposition
which I intended to enforce in the present section. If I be right, I
pretend not to have made any mighty discovery. And if I be wrong, I must
acknowledge myself to be indeed a very backward scholar; since I cannot
now discover an argument which, it seems, was perfectly familiar to me
long before I was out of my cradle.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
SECTION V.
SCEPTICAL SOLUTION OF THESE DOUBTS.
PART I.
34. The passion for philosophy, like that for religion, seems liable to
this inconvenience, that, though it aims at the correction of our
manners, and extirpation of our vices, it may only serve, by imprudent
management, to foster a predominant inclination, and push the mind, with
more determined resolution, towards that side which already draws too
much, by the bias and propensity of the natural temper. It is certain
that, while we aspire to the magnanimous firmness of the philosophic
sage, and endeavour to confine our pleasures altogether within our own
minds, we may, at last, render our philosophy like that of Epictetus,
and other Stoics, only a more refined system of selfishness, and reason
ourselves out of all virtue as well as social enjoyment. While we study
with attention the vanity of human life, and turn all our thoughts
towards the empty and transitory nature of riches and honours, we are,
perhaps, all the while flattering our natural indolence, which, hating
the bustle of the world, and drudgery of business, seeks a pretence of
reason to give itself a full and uncontrolled indulgence. There is,
however, one species of philosophy which seems little liable to this
inconvenience, and that because it strikes in with no disorderly passion
of the human mind, nor can mingle itself with any natural affection or
propensity; and that is the Academic or Sceptical philosophy. The
academics always talk of doubt and suspense of judgement, of danger in
hasty determinations, of confining to very narrow bounds the enquiries
of the understanding, and of renouncing all speculations which lie not
within the limits of common life and practice. Nothing, therefore, can
be more contrary than such a philosophy to the supine indolence of the
mind, its rash arrogance, its lofty pretensions, and its superstitious
credulity. Every passion is mortified by it, except the love of truth;
and that passion never is, nor can be, carried to too high a degree. It
is surprising, therefore, that this philosophy, which, in almost every
instance, must be harmless and innocent, should be the subject of so
much groundless reproach and obloquy. But, perhaps, the very
circumstance which renders it so innocent is what chiefly exposes it to
the public hatred and resentment. By flattering no irregular passion, it
gains few partizans: By opposing so many vices and follies, it raises to
itself abundance of enemies, who stigmatize it as libertine profane, and
irreligious.
Nor need we fear that this philosophy, while it endeavours to limit
our enquiries to common life, should ever undermine the reasonings of
common life, and carry its doubts so far as to destroy all action, as
well as speculation. Nature will always maintain her rights, and prevail
in the end over any abstract reasoning whatsoever. Though we should
conclude, for instance, as in the foregoing section, that, in all
reasonings from experience, there is a step taken by the mind which is
not supported by any argument or process of the understanding; there is
no danger that these reasonings, on which almost all knowledge depends,
will ever be affected by such a discovery. If the mind be not engaged by
argument to make this step, it must be induced by some other principle
of equal weight and authority; and that principle will preserve its
influence as long as human nature remains the same. What that principle
is may well be worth the pains of enquiry.
35. Suppose a person, though endowed with the strongest faculties of
reason and reflection, to be brought on a sudden into this world; he
would, indeed, immediately observe a continual succession of objects,
and one event following another; but he would not be able to discover
anything farther. He would not, at first, by any reasoning, be able to
reach the idea of cause and effect; since the particular powers, by
which all natural operations are performed, never appear to the senses;
nor is it reasonable to conclude, merely because one event, in one
instance, precedes another, that therefore the one is the cause, the
other the effect. Their conjunction may be arbitrary and casual. There
may be no reason to infer the existence of one from the appearance of
the other. And in a word, such a person, without more experience, could
never employ his conjecture or reasoning concerning any matter of fact,
or be assured of anything beyond what was immediately present to his
memory and senses.
Suppose, again, that he has acquired more experience, and has lived
so long in the world as to have observed familiar objects or events to
be constantly conjoined together; what is the consequence of this
experience? He immediately infers the existence of one object from the
appearance of the other. Yet he has not, by all his experience, acquired
any idea or knowledge of the secret power by which the one object
produces the other; nor is it, by any process of reasoning, he is
engaged to draw this inference. But still he finds himself determined to
draw it: And though he should be convinced that his understanding has no
part in the operation, he would nevertheless continue in the same course
of thinking. There is some other principle which determines him to form
such a conclusion.
36. This principle is Custom or Habit. For wherever the repetition of
any particular act or operation produces a propensity to renew the same
act or operation, without being impelled by any reasoning or process of
the understanding, we always say, that this propensity is the effect of
Custom. By employing that word, we pretend not to have given the
ultimate reason of such a propensity. We only point out a principle of
human nature, which is universally acknowledged, and which is well known
by its effects. Perhaps we can push our enquiries no farther, or pretend
to give the cause of this cause; but must rest contented with it as the
ultimate principle, which we can assign, of all our conclusions from
experience. It is sufficient satisfaction, that we can go so far,
without repining at the narrowness of our faculties because they will
carry us no farther. And it is certain we here advance a very
intelligible proposition at least, if not a true one, when we assert
that, after the constant conjunction of two objects—heat and flame, for
instance, weight and solidity—we are determined by custom alone to
expect the one from the appearance of the other. This hypothesis seems
even the only one which explains the difficulty, why we draw, from a
thousand instances, an inference which we are not able to draw from one
instance, that is, in no respect, different from them. Reason is
incapable of any such variation. The conclusions which it draws from
considering one circle are the same which it would form upon surveying
all the circles in the universe. But no man, having seen only one body
move after being impelled by another, could infer that every other body
will move after a like impulse. All inferences from experience,
therefore, are effects of custom, not of reasoning7.
Custom, then, is the great guide of human life. It is that principle
alone which renders our experience useful to us, and makes us expect,
for the future, a similar train of events with those which have appeared
in the past.
Without the influence of custom, we should be entirely ignorant of
every matter of fact beyond what is immediately present to the memory
and senses. We should never know how to adjust means to ends, or to
employ our natural powers in the production of any effect. There would
be an end at once of all action, as well as of the chief part of
speculation.
37. But here it may be proper to remark, that though our conclusions
from experience carry us beyond our memory and senses, and assure us of
matters of fact which happened in the most distant places and most
remote ages, yet some fact must always be present to the senses or
memory, from which we may first proceed in drawing these conclusions. A
man, who should find in a desert country the remains of pompous
buildings, would conclude that the country had, in ancient times, been
cultivated by civilized inhabitants; but did nothing of this nature
occur to him, he could never form such an inference. We learn the events
of former ages from history; but then we must peruse the volumes in
which this instruction is contained, and thence carry up our inferences
from one testimony to another, till we arrive at the eyewitnesses and
spectators of these distant events. In a word, if we proceed not upon
some fact, present to the memory or senses, our reasonings would be
merely hypothetical; and however the particular links might be connected
with each other, the whole chain of inferences would have nothing to
support it, nor could we ever, by its means, arrive at the knowledge of
any real existence. If I ask why you believe any particular matter of
fact, which you relate, you must tell me some reason; and this reason
will be some other fact, connected with it. But as you cannot proceed
after this manner, in infinitum, you must at last terminate in some
fact, which is present to your memory or senses; or must allow that your
belief is entirely without foundation.
38. What, then, is the conclusion of the whole matter? A simple one;
though, it must be confessed, pretty remote from the common theories of
philosophy. All belief of matter of fact or real existence is derived
merely from some object, present to the memory or senses, and a
customary conjunction between that and some other object. Or in other
words; having found, in many instances, that any two kinds of
objects—flame and heat, snow and cold—have always been conjoined
together; if flame or snow be presented anew to the senses, the mind is
carried by custom to expect heat or cold, and to believe that such a
quality does exist, and will discover itself upon a nearer approach.
This belief is the necessary result of placing the mind in such
circumstances. It is an operation of the soul, when we are so situated,
as unavoidable as to feel the passion of love, when we receive benefits;
or hatred, when we meet with injuries. All these operations are a
species of natural instincts, which no reasoning or process of the
thought and understanding is able either to produce or to prevent.
At this point, it would be very allowable for us to stop our
philosophical researches. In most questions we can never make a single
step farther; and in all questions we must terminate here at last, after
our most restless and curious enquiries. But still our curiosity will be
pardonable, perhaps commendable, if it carry us on to still farther
researches, and make us examine more accurately the nature of this
belief, and of the customary conjunction, whence it is derived. By this
means we may meet with some explications and analogies that will give
satisfaction; at least to such as love the abstract sciences, and can be
entertained with speculations, which, however accurate, may still retain
a degree of doubt and uncertainty. As to readers of a different taste;
the remaining part of this section is not calculated for them, and the
following enquiries may well be understood, though it be neglected.
PART II.
39. Nothing is more free than the imagination of man; and though it
cannot exceed that original stock of ideas furnished by the internal and
external senses, it has unlimited power of mixing, compounding,
separating, and dividing these ideas, in all the varieties of fiction
and vision. It can feign a train of events, with all the appearance of
reality, ascribe to them a particular time and place, conceive them as
existent, and paint them out to itself with every circumstance, that
belongs to any historical fact, which it believes with the greatest
certainty. Wherein, therefore, consists the difference between such a
fiction and belief? It lies not merely in any peculiar idea, which is
annexed to such a conception as commands our assent, and which is
wanting to every known fiction. For as the mind has authority over all
its ideas, it could voluntarily annex this particular idea to any
fiction, and consequently be able to believe whatever it pleases;
contrary to what we find by daily experience. We can, in our conception,
join the head of a man to the body of a horse; but it is not in our
power to believe that such an animal has ever really existed.
It follows, therefore, that the difference between fiction and belief
lies in some sentiment or feeling, which is annexed to the latter, not
to the former, and which depends not on the will, nor can be commanded
at pleasure. It must be excited by nature, like all other sentiments;
and must arise from the particular situation, in which the mind is
placed at any particular juncture. Whenever any object is presented to
the memory or senses, it immediately, by the force of custom, carries
the imagination to conceive that object, which is usually conjoined to
it; and this conception is attended with a feeling or sentiment,
different from the loose reveries of the fancy. In this consists the
whole nature of belief. For as there is no matter of fact which we
believe so firmly that we cannot conceive the contrary, there would be
no difference between the conception assented to and that which is
rejected, were it not for some sentiment which distinguishes the one
from the other. If I see a billiard-ball moving towards another, on a
smooth table, I can easily conceive it to stop upon contact. This
conception implies no contradiction; but still it feels very differently
from that conception by which I represent to myself the impulse and the
communication of motion from one ball to another.
40. Were we to attempt a definition of this sentiment, we should,
perhaps, find it a very difficult, if not an impossible task; in the
same manner as if we should endeavour to define the feeling of cold or
passion of anger, to a creature who never had any experience of these
sentiments. Belief is the true and proper name of this feeling; and no
one is ever at a loss to know the meaning of that term; because every
man is every moment conscious of the sentiment represented by it. It may
not, however, be improper to attempt a description of this sentiment; in
hopes we may, by that means, arrive at some analogies, which may afford
a more perfect explication of it. I say, then, that belief is nothing
but a more vivid, lively, forcible, firm, steady conception of an
object, than what the imagination alone is ever able to attain. This
variety of terms, which may seem so unphilosophical, is intended only to
express that act of the mind, which renders realities, or what is taken
for such, more present to us than fictions, causes them to weigh more in
the thought, and gives them a superior influence on the passions and
imagination. Provided we agree about the thing, it is needless to
dispute about the terms. The imagination has the command over all its
ideas, and can join and mix and vary them, in all the ways possible. It
may conceive fictitious objects with all the circumstances of place and
time. It may set them, in a manner, before our eyes, in their true
colours, just as they might have existed. But as it is impossible that
this faculty of imagination can ever, of itself, reach belief, it is
evident that belief consists not in the peculiar nature or order of
ideas, but in the manner of their conception, and in their feeling to
the mind. I confess, that it is impossible perfectly to explain this
feeling or manner of conception. We may make use of words which express
something near it. But its true and proper name, as we observed before,
is belief; which is a term that every one sufficiently understands in
common life. And in philosophy, we can go no farther than assert, that
belief is something felt by the mind, which distinguishes the ideas of
the judgement from the fictions of the imagination. It gives them more
weight and influence; makes them appear of greater importance; enforces
them in the mind; and renders them the governing principle of our
actions. I hear at present, for instance, a person's voice, with whom I
am acquainted; and the sound comes as from the next room. This
impression of my senses immediately conveys my thought to the person,
together with all the surrounding objects. I paint them out to myself as
existing at present, with the same qualities and relations, of which I
formerly knew them possessed. These ideas take faster hold of my mind
than ideas of an enchanted castle. They are very different to the
feeling, and have a much greater influence of every kind, either to give
pleasure or pain, joy or sorrow.
Let us, then, take in the whole compass of this doctrine, and allow,
that the sentiment of belief is nothing but a conception more intense
and steady than what attends the mere fictions of the imagination, and
that this manner of conception arises from a customary conjunction of
the object with something present to the memory or senses: I believe
that it will not be difficult, upon these suppositions, to find other
operations of the mind analogous to it, and to trace up these phenomena
to principles still more general.
41. We have already observed that nature has established connexions
among particular ideas, and that no sooner one idea occurs to our
thoughts than it introduces its correlative, and carries our attention
towards it, by a gentle and insensible movement. These principles of
connexion or association we have reduced to three, namely, Resemblance,
Contiguity and Causation; which are the only bonds that unite our
thoughts together, and beget that regular train of reflection or
discourse, which, in a greater or less degree, takes place among all
mankind. Now here arises a question, on which the solution of the
present difficulty will depend. Does it happen, in all these relations,
that, when one of the objects is presented to the senses or memory, the
mind is not only carried to the conception of the correlative, but
reaches a steadier and stronger conception of it than what otherwise it
would have been able to attain? This seems to be the case with that
belief which arises from the relation of cause and effect. And if the
case be the same with the other relations or principles of associations,
this may be established as a general law, which takes place in all the
operations of the mind.
We may, therefore, observe, as the first experiment to our present
purpose, that, upon the appearance of the picture of an absent friend,
our idea of him is evidently enlivened by the resemblance, and that
every passion, which that idea occasions, whether of joy or sorrow,
acquires new force and vigour. In producing this effect, there concur
both a relation and a present impression. Where the picture bears him no
resemblance, at least was not intended for him, it never so much as
conveys our thought to him: And where it is absent, as well as the
person, though the mind may pass from the thought of the one to that of
the other, it feels its idea to be rather weakened than enlivened by
that transition. We take a pleasure in viewing the picture of a friend,
when it is set before us; but when it is removed, rather choose to
consider him directly than by reflection in an image, which is equally
distant and obscure.
The ceremonies of the Roman Catholic religion may be considered as
instances of the same nature. The devotees of that superstition usually
plead in excuse for the mummeries, with which they are upbraided, that
they feel the good effect of those external motions, and postures, and
actions, in enlivening their devotion and quickening their fervour,
which otherwise would decay, if directed entirely to distant and
immaterial objects. We shadow out the objects of our faith, say they, in
sensible types and images, and render them more present to us by the
immediate presence of these types, than it is possible for us to do
merely by an intellectual view and contemplation. Sensible objects have
always a greater influence on the fancy than any other; and this
influence they readily convey to those ideas to which they are related,
and which they resemble. I shall only infer from these practices, and
this reasoning, that the effect of resemblance in enlivening the ideas
is very common; and as in every case a resemblance and a present
impression must concur, we are abundantly supplied with experiments to
prove the reality of the foregoing principle.
42. We may add force to these experiments by others of a different
kind, in considering the effects of contiguity as well as of
resemblance. It is certain that distance diminishes the force of every
idea, and that, upon our approach to any object; though it does not
discover itself to our senses; it operates upon the mind with an
influence, which imitates an immediate impression. The thinking on any
object readily transports the mind to what is contiguous; but it is only
the actual presence of an object, that transports it with a superior
vivacity. When I am a few miles from home, whatever relates to it
touches me more nearly than when I am two hundred leagues distant;
though even at that distance the reflecting on any thing in the
neighbourhood of my friends or family naturally produces an idea of
them. But as in this latter case, both the objects of the mind are
ideas; notwithstanding there is an easy transition between them; that
transition alone is not able to give a superior vivacity to any of the
ideas, for want of some immediate impression8.
43. No one can doubt but causation has the same influence as the
other two relations of resemblance and contiguity. Superstitious people
are fond of the reliques of saints and holy men, for the same reason,
that they seek after types or images, in order to enliven their
devotion, and give them a more intimate and strong conception of those
exemplary lives, which they desire to imitate. Now it is evident, that
one of the best reliques, which a devotee could procure, would be the
handywork of a saint; and if his cloaths and furniture are ever to be
considered in this light, it is because they were once at his disposal,
and were moved and affected by him; in which respect they are to be
considered as imperfect effects, and as connected with him by a shorter
chain of consequences than any of those, by which we learn the reality
of his existence.
Suppose, that the son of a friend, who had been long dead or absent,
were presented to us; it is evident, that this object would instantly
revive its correlative idea, and recal to our thoughts all past
intimacies and familiarities, in more lively colours than they would
otherwise have appeared to us. This is another phaenomenon, which seems
to prove the principle above mentioned.
44. We may observe, that, in these phaenomena, the belief of the
correlative object is always presupposed; without which the relation
could have no effect. The influence of the picture supposes, that we
believe our friend to have once existed. Contiguity to home can never
excite our ideas of home, unless we believe that it really exists. Now I
assert, that this belief, where it reaches beyond the memory or senses,
is of a similar nature, and arises from similar causes, with the
transition of thought and vivacity of conception here explained. When I
throw a piece of dry wood into a fire, my mind is immediately carried to
conceive, that it augments, not extinguishes the flame. This transition
of thought from the cause to the effect proceeds not from reason. It
derives its origin altogether from custom and experience. And as it
first begins from an object, present to the senses, it renders the idea
or conception of flame more strong and lively than any loose, floating
reverie of the imagination. That idea arises immediately. The thought
moves instantly towards it, and conveys to it all that force of
conception, which is derived from the impression present to the senses.
When a sword is levelled at my breast, does not the idea of wound and
pain strike me more strongly, than when a glass of wine is presented to
me, even though by accident this idea should occur after the appearance
of the latter object? But what is there in this whole matter to cause
such a strong conception, except only a present object and a customary
transition to the idea of another object, which we have been accustomed
to conjoin with the former? This is the whole operation of the mind, in
all our conclusions concerning matter of fact and existence; and it is a
satisfaction to find some analogies, by which it may be explained. The
transition from a present object does in all cases give strength and
solidity to the related idea.
Here, then, is a kind of pre-established harmony between the course
of nature and the succession of our ideas; and though the powers and
forces, by which the former is governed, be wholly unknown to us; yet
our thoughts and conceptions have still, we find, gone on in the same
train with the other works of nature. Custom is that principle, by which
this correspondence has been effected; so necessary to the subsistence
of our species, and the regulation of our conduct, in every circumstance
and occurrence of human life. Had not the presence of an object,
instantly excited the idea of those objects, commonly conjoined with it,
all our knowledge must have been limited to the narrow sphere of our
memory and senses; and we should never have been able to adjust means to
ends, or employ our natural powers, either to the producing of good, or
avoiding of evil. Those, who delight in the discovery and contemplation
of final causes, have here ample subject to employ their wonder and
admiration.
45. I shall add, for a further confirmation of the foregoing theory,
that, as this operation of the mind, by which we infer like effects from
like causes, and vice versa, is so essential to the subsistence of all
human creatures, it is not probable, that it could be trusted to the
fallacious deductions of our reason, which is slow in its operations;
appears not, in any degree, during the first years of infancy; and at
best is, in every age and period of human life, extremely liable to
error and mistake. It is more conformable to the ordinary wisdom of
nature to secure so necessary an act of the mind, by some instinct or
mechanical tendency, which may be infallible in its operations, may
discover itself at the first appearance of life and thought, and may be
independent of all the laboured deductions of the understanding. As
nature has taught us the use of our limbs, without giving us the
knowledge of the muscles and nerves, by which they are actuated; so has
she implanted in us an instinct, which carries forward the thought in a
correspondent course to that which she has established among external
objects; though we are ignorant of those powers and forces, on which
this regular course and succession of objects totally depends.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
SECTION VI
OF PROBABILITY9.
46. Though there be no such thing as Chance in the world; our ignorance
of the real cause of any event has the same influence on the
understanding, and begets a like species of belief or opinion.
There is certainly a probability, which arises from a superiority of
chances on any side; and according as this superiority encreases, and
surpasses the opposite chances, the probability receives a
proportionable encrease, and begets still a higher degree of belief or
assent to that side, in which we discover the superiority. If a dye were
marked with one figure or number of spots on four sides, and with
another figure or number of spots on the two remaining sides, it would
be more probable, that the former would turn up than the latter; though,
if it had a thousand sides marked in the same manner, and only one side
different, the probability would be much higher, and our belief or
expectation of the event more steady and secure. This process of the
thought or reasoning may seem trivial and obvious; but to those who
consider it more narrowly, it may, perhaps, afford matter for curious
speculation.
It seems evident, that, when the mind looks forward to discover the
event, which may result from the throw of such a dye, it considers the
turning up of each particular side as alike probable; and this is the
very nature of chance, to render all the particular events, comprehended
in it, entirely equal. But finding a greater number of sides concur in
the one event than in the other, the mind is carried more frequently to
that event, and meets it oftener, in revolving the various possibilities
or chances, on which the ultimate result depends. This concurrence of
several views in one particular event begets immediately, by an
inexplicable contrivance of nature, the sentiment of belief, and gives
that event the advantage over its antagonist, which is supported by a
smaller number of views, and recurs less frequently to the mind. If we
allow, that belief is nothing but a firmer and stronger conception of an
object than what attends the mere fictions of the imagination, this
operation may, perhaps, in some measure, be accounted for. The
concurrence of these several views or glimpses imprints the idea more
strongly on the imagination; gives it superior force and vigour; renders
its influence on the passions and affections more sensible; and in a
word, begets that reliance or security, which constitutes the nature of
belief and opinion.
47. The case is the same with the probability of causes, as with that
of chance. There are some causes, which are entirely uniform and
constant in producing a particular effect; and no instance has ever yet
been found of any failure or irregularity in their operation. Fire has
always burned, and water suffocated every human creature: The production
of motion by impulse and gravity is an universal law, which has hitherto
admitted of no exception. But there are other causes, which have been
found more irregular and uncertain; nor has rhubarb always proved a
purge, or opium a soporific to every one, who has taken these medicines.
It is true, when any cause fails of producing its usual effect,
philosophers ascribe not this to any irregularity in nature; but
suppose, that some secret causes, in the particular structure of parts,
have prevented the operation. Our reasonings, however, and conclusions
concerning the event are the same as if this principle had no place.
Being determined by custom to transfer the past to the future, in all
our inferences; where the past has been entirely regular and uniform, we
expect the event with the greatest assurance, and leave no room for any
contrary supposition. But where different effects have been found to
follow from causes, which are to appearance exactly similar, all these
various effects must occur to the mind in transferring the past to the
future, and enter into our consideration, when we determine the
probability of the event. Though we give the preference to that which
has been found most usual, and believe that this effect will exist, we
must not overlook the other effects, but must assign to each of them a
particular weight and authority, in proportion as we have found it to be
more or less frequent. It is more probable, in almost every country of
Europe, that there will be frost sometime in January, than that the
weather will continue open throughout that whole month; though this
probability varies according to the different climates, and approaches
to a certainty in the more northern kingdoms. Here then it seems
evident, that, when we transfer the past to the future, in order to
determine the effect, which will result from any cause, we transfer all
the different events, in the same proportion as they have appeared in
the past, and conceive one to have existed a hundred times, for
instance, another ten times, and another once. As a great number of
views do here concur in one event, they fortify and confirm it to the
imagination, beget that sentiment which we call belief, and give its
object the preference above the contrary event, which is not supported
by an equal number of experiments, and recurs not so frequently to the
thought in transferring the past to the future. Let any one try to
account for this operation of the mind upon any of the received systems
of philosophy, and he will be sensible of the difficulty. For my part, I
shall think it sufficient, if the present hints excite the curiosity of
philosophers, and make them sensible how defective all common theories
are in treating of such curious and such sublime subjects.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
SECTION VII.
OF THE IDEA OF NECESSARY CONNEXION.
PART I.
48. The great advantage of the mathematical sciences above the moral
consists in this, that the ideas of the former, being sensible, are
always clear and determinate, the smallest distinction between them is
immediately perceptible, and the same terms are still expressive of the
same ideas, without ambiguity or variation. An oval is never mistaken
for a circle, nor an hyperbola for an ellipsis. The isosceles and
scalenum are distinguished by boundaries more exact than vice and
virtue, right and wrong. If any term be defined in geometry, the mind
readily, of itself, substitutes, on all occasions, the definition for
the term defined: Or even when no definition is employed, the object
itself may be presented to the senses, and by that means be steadily and
clearly apprehended. But the finer sentiments of the mind, the
operations of the understanding, the various agitations of the passions,
though really in themselves distinct, easily escape us, when surveyed by
reflection; nor is it in our power to recal the original object, as
often as we have occasion to contemplate it. Ambiguity, by this means,
is gradually introduced into our reasonings: Similar objects are readily
taken to be the same: And the conclusion becomes at last very wide of
the premises.
One may safely, however, affirm, that, if we consider these sciences
in a proper light, their advantages and disadvantages nearly compensate
each other, and reduce both of them to a state of equality. If the mind,
with greater facility, retains the ideas of geometry clear and
determinate, it must carry on a much longer and more intricate chain of
reasoning, and compare ideas much wider of each other, in order to reach
the abstruser truths of that science. And if moral ideas are apt,
without extreme care, to fall into obscurity and confusion, the
inferences are always much shorter in these disquisitions, and the
intermediate steps, which lead to the conclusion, much fewer than in the
sciences which treat of quantity and number. In reality, there is
scarcely a proposition in Euclid so simple, as not to consist of more
parts, than are to be found in any moral reasoning which runs not into
chimera and conceit. Where we trace the principles of the human mind
through a few steps, we may be very well satisfied with our progress;
considering how soon nature throws a bar to all our enquiries concerning
causes, and reduces us to an acknowledgment of our ignorance. The chief
obstacle, therefore, to our improvement in the moral or metaphysical
sciences is the obscurity of the ideas, and ambiguity of the terms. The
principal difficulty in the mathematics is the length of inferences and
compass of thought, requisite to the forming of any conclusion. And,
perhaps, our progress in natural philosophy is chiefly retarded by the
want of proper experiments and phaenomena, which are often discovered by
chance, and cannot always be found, when requisite, even by the most
diligent and prudent enquiry. As moral philosophy seems hitherto to have
received less improvement than either geometry or physics, we may
conclude, that, if there be any difference in this respect among these
sciences, the difficulties, which obstruct the progress of the former,
require superior care and capacity to be surmounted.
49. There are no ideas, which occur in metaphysics, more obscure and
uncertain, than those of power, force, energy or necessary connexion, of
which it is every moment necessary for us to treat in all our
disquisitions. We shall, therefore, endeavour, in this section, to fix,
if possible, the precise meaning of these terms, and thereby remove some
part of that obscurity, which is so much complained of in this species
of philosophy.
It seems a proposition, which will not admit of much dispute, that
all our ideas are nothing but copies of our impressions, or, in other
words, that it is impossible for us to think of any thing, which we have
not antecedently felt, either by our external or internal senses. I have
endeavoured10 to explain and prove this proposition, and have expressed
my hopes, that, by a proper application of it, men may reach a greater
clearness and precision in philosophical reasonings, than what they have
hitherto been able to attain. Complex ideas may, perhaps, be well known
by definition, which is nothing but an enumeration of those parts or
simple ideas, that compose them. But when we have pushed up definitions
to the most simple ideas, and find still some ambiguity and obscurity;
what resource are we then possessed of? By what invention can we throw
light upon these ideas, and render them altogether precise and
determinate to our intellectual view? Produce the impressions or
original sentiments, from which the ideas are copied. These impressions
are all strong and sensible. They admit not of ambiguity. They are not
only placed in a full light themselves, but may throw light on their
correspondent ideas, which lie in obscurity. And by this means, we may,
perhaps, attain a new microscope or species of optics, by which, in the
moral sciences, the most minute, and most simple ideas may be so
enlarged as to fall readily under our apprehension, and be equally known
with the grossest and most sensible ideas, that can be the object of our
enquiry.
50. To be fully acquainted, therefore, with the idea of power or
necessary connexion, let us examine its impression; and in order to find
the impression with greater certainty, let us search for it in all the
sources, from which it may possibly be derived.
When we look about us towards external objects, and consider the
operation of causes, we are never able, in a single instance, to
discover any power or necessary connexion; any quality, which binds the
effect to the cause, and renders the one an infallible consequence of
the other. We only find, that the one does actually, in fact, follow the
other. The impulse of one billiard-ball is attended with motion in the
second. This is the whole that appears to the outward senses. The mind
feels no sentiment or inward impression from this succession of objects:
Consequently, there is not, in any single, particular instance of cause
and effect, any thing which can suggest the idea of power or necessary
connexion.
From the first appearance of an object, we never can conjecture what
effect will result from it. But were the power or energy of any cause
discoverable by the mind, we could foresee the effect, even without
experience; and might, at first, pronounce with certainty concerning it,
by mere dint of thought and reasoning.
In reality, there is no part of matter, that does ever, by its
sensible qualities, discover any power or energy, or give us ground to
imagine, that it could produce any thing, or be followed by any other
object, which we could denominate its effect. Solidity, extension,
motion; these qualities are all complete in themselves, and never point
out any other event which may result from them. The scenes of the
universe are continually shifting, and one object follows another in an
uninterrupted succession; but the power of force, which actuates the
whole machine, is entirely concealed from us, and never discovers itself
in any of the sensible qualities of body. We know, that, in fact, heat
is a constant attendant of flame; but what is the connexion between
them, we have no room so much as to conjecture or imagine. It is
impossible, therefore, that the idea of power can be derived from the
contemplation of bodies, in single instances of their operation; because
no bodies ever discover any power, which can be the original of this
idea.11
51. Since, therefore, external objects as they appear to the senses,
give us no idea of power or necessary connexion, by their operation in
particular instances, let us see, whether this idea be derived from
reflection on the operations of our own minds, and be copied from any
internal impression. It may be said, that we are every moment conscious
of internal power; while we feel, that, by the simple command of our
will, we can move the organs of our body, or direct the faculties of our
mind. An act of volition produces motion in our limbs, or raises a new
idea in our imagination. This influence of the will we know by
consciousness. Hence we acquire the idea of power or energy; and are
certain, that we ourselves and all other intelligent beings are
possessed of power. This idea, then, is an idea of reflection, since it
arises from reflecting on the operations of our own mind, and on the
command which is exercised by will, both over the organs of the body and
faculties of the soul.
52. We shall proceed to examine this pretension; and first with
regard to the influence of volition over the organs of the body. This
influence, we may observe, is a fact, which, like all other natural
events, can be known only by experience, and can never be foreseen from
any apparent energy or power in the cause, which connects it with the
effect, and renders the one an infallible consequence of the other. The
motion of our body follows upon the command of our will. Of this we are
every moment conscious. But the means, by which this is effected; the
energy, by which the will performs so extraordinary an operation; of
this we are so far from being immediately conscious, that it must for
ever escape our most diligent enquiry.
For first; is there any principle in all nature more mysterious than
the union of soul with body; by which a supposed spiritual substance
acquires such an influence over a material one, that the most refined
thought is able to actuate the grossest matter? Were we empowered, by a
secret wish, to remove mountains, or control the planets in their orbit;
this extensive authority would not be more extraordinary, nor more
beyond our comprehension. But if by consciousness we perceived any power
or energy in the will, we must know this power; we must know its
connexion with the effect; we must know the secret union of soul and
body, and the nature of both these substances; by which the one is able
to operate, in so many instances, upon the other.
Secondly, We are not able to move all the organs of the body with a
like authority; though we cannot assign any reason besides experience,
for so remarkable a difference between one and the other. Why has the
will an influence over the tongue and fingers, not over the heart or
liver? This question would never embarrass us, were we conscious of a
power in the former case, not in the latter. We should then perceive,
independent of experience, why the authority of will over the organs of
the body is circumscribed within such particular limits. Being in that
case fully acquainted with the power or force, by which it operates, we
should also know, why its influence reaches precisely to such
boundaries, and no farther.
A man, suddenly struck with palsy in the leg or arm, or who had newly
lost those members, frequently endeavours, at first to move them, and
employ them in their usual offices. Here he is as much conscious of
power to command such limbs, as a man in perfect health is conscious of
power to actuate any member which remains in its natural state and
condition. But consciousness never deceives. Consequently, neither in
the one case nor in the other, are we ever conscious of any power. We
learn the influence of our will from experience alone. And experience
only teaches us, how one event constantly follows another; without
instructing us in the secret connexion, which binds them together, and
renders them inseparable.
Thirdly, We learn from anatomy, that the immediate object of power in
voluntary motion, is not the member itself which is moved, but certain
muscles, and nerves, and animal spirits, and, perhaps, something still
more minute and more unknown, through which the motion is successively
propagated, ere it reach the member itself whose motion is the immediate
object of volition. Can there be a more certain proof, that the power,
by which this whole operation is performed, so far from being directly
and fully known by an inward sentiment or consciousness, is, to the last
degree mysterious and unintelligible? Here the mind wills a certain
event: Immediately another event, unknown to ourselves, and totally
different from the one intended, is produced: This event produces
another, equally unknown: Till at last, through a long succession, the
desired event is produced. But if the original power were felt, it must
be known: Were it known, its effect also must be known; since all power
is relative to its effect. And vice versa, if the effect be not known,
the power cannot be known nor felt. How indeed can we be conscious of a
power to move our limbs, when we have no such power; but only that to
move certain animal spirits, which, though they produce at last the
motion of our limbs, yet operate in such a manner as is wholly beyond
our comprehension?
We may, therefore, conclude from the whole, I hope, without any
temerity, though with assurance; that our idea of power is not copied
from any sentiment or consciousness of power within ourselves, when we
give rise to animal motion, or apply our limbs to their proper use and
office. That their motion follows the command of the will is a matter of
common experience, like other natural events: But the power or energy by
which this is effected, like that in other natural events, is unknown
and inconceivable.12
53. Shall we then assert, that we are conscious of a power or energy
in our own minds, when, by an act or command of our will, we raise up a
new idea, fix the mind to the contemplation of it, turn it on all sides,
and at last dismiss it for some other idea, when we think that we have
surveyed it with sufficient accuracy? I believe the same arguments will
prove, that even this command of the will gives us no real idea of force
or energy.
First, It must be allowed, that, when we know a power, we know that
very circumstance in the cause, by which it is enabled to produce the
effect: For these are supposed to be synonimous. We must, therefore,
know both the cause and effect, and the relation between them. But do we
pretend to be acquainted with the nature of the human soul and the
nature of an idea, or the aptitude of the one to produce the other? This
is a real creation; a production of something out of nothing: Which
implies a power so great, that it may seem, at first sight, beyond the
reach of any being, less than infinite. At least it must be owned, that
such a power is not felt, nor known, nor even conceivable by the mind.
We only feel the event, namely, the existence of an idea, consequent to
a command of the will: But the manner, in which this operation is
performed, the power by which it is produced, is entirely beyond our
comprehension.
Secondly, The command of the mind over itself is limited, as well as
its command over the body; and these limits are not known by reason, or
any acquaintance with the nature of cause and effect, but only by
experience and observation, as in all other natural events and in the
operation of external objects. Our authority over our sentiments and
passions is much weaker than that over our ideas; and even the latter
authority is circumscribed within very narrow boundaries. Will any one
pretend to assign the ultimate reason of these boundaries, or show why
the power is deficient in one case, not in another.
Thirdly, This self-command is very different at different times. A
man in health possesses more of it than one languishing with sickness.
We are more master of our thoughts in the morning than in the evening:
Fasting, than after a full meal. Can we give any reason for these
variations, except experience? Where then is the power, of which we
pretend to be conscious? Is there not here, either in a spiritual or
material substance, or both, some secret mechanism or structure of
parts, upon which the effect depends, and which, being entirely unknown
to us, renders the power or energy of the will equally unknown and
incomprehensible?
Volition is surely an act of the mind, with which we are sufficiently
acquainted. Reflect upon it. Consider it on all sides. Do you find
anything in it like this creative power, by which it raises from nothing
a new idea, and with a kind of Fiat, imitates the omnipotence of its
Maker, if I may be allowed so to speak, who called forth into existence
all the various scenes of nature? So far from being conscious of this
energy in the will, it requires as certain experience as that of which
we are possessed, to convince us that such extraordinary effects do ever
result from a simple act of volition.
54. The generality of mankind never find any difficulty in accounting
for the more common and familiar operations of nature—such as the
descent of heavy bodies, the growth of plants, the generation of
animals, or the nourishment of bodies by food: But suppose that, in all
these cases, they perceive the very force or energy of the cause, by
which it is connected with its effect, and is for ever infallible in its
operation. They acquire, by long habit, such a turn of mind, that, upon
the appearance of the cause, they immediately expect with assurance its
usual attendant, and hardly conceive it possible that any other event
could result from it. It is only on the discovery of extraordinary
phaenomena, such as earthquakes, pestilence, and prodigies of any kind,
that they find themselves at a loss to assign a proper cause, and to
explain the manner in which the effect is produced by it. It is usual
for men, in such difficulties, to have recourse to some invisible
intelligent principle13 as the immediate cause of that event which
surprises them, and which, they think, cannot be accounted for from the
common powers of nature. But philosophers, who carry their scrutiny a
little farther, immediately perceive that, even in the most familiar
events, the energy of the cause is as unintelligible as in the most
unusual, and that we only learn by experience the frequent Conjunction
of objects, without being ever able to comprehend anything like
Connexion between them.
55. Here, then, many philosophers think themselves obliged by reason
to have recourse, on all occasions, to the same principle, which the
vulgar never appeal to but in cases that appear miraculous and
supernatural. They acknowledge mind and intelligence to be, not only the
ultimate and original cause of all things, but the immediate and sole
cause of every event which appears in nature. They pretend that those
objects which are commonly denominated causes, are in reality nothing
but occasions; and that the true and direct principle of every effect is
not any power or force in nature, but a volition of the Supreme Being,
who wills that such particular objects should for ever be conjoined with
each other. Instead of saying that one billiard-ball moves another by a
force which it has derived from the author of nature, it is the Deity
himself, they say, who, by a particular volition, moves the second ball,
being determined to this operation by the impulse of the first ball, in
consequence of those general laws which he has laid down to himself in
the government of the universe. But philosophers advancing still in
their inquiries, discover that, as we are totally ignorant of the power
on which depends the mutual operation of bodies, we are no less ignorant
of that power on which depends the operation of mind on body, or of body
on mind; nor are we able, either from our senses or consciousness, to
assign the ultimate principle in one case more than in the other. The
same ignorance, therefore, reduces them to the same conclusion. They
assert that the Deity is the immediate cause of the union between soul
and body; and that they are not the organs of sense, which, being
agitated by external objects, produce sensations in the mind; but that
it is a particular volition of our omnipotent Maker, which excites such
a sensation, in consequence of such a motion in the organ. In like
manner, it is not any energy in the will that produces local motion in
our members: It is God himself, who is pleased to second our will, in
itself impotent, and to command that motion which we erroneously
attribute to our own power and efficacy. Nor do philosophers stop at
this conclusion. They sometimes extend the same inference to the mind
itself, in its internal operations. Our mental vision or conception of
ideas is nothing but a revelation made to us by our Maker. When we
voluntarily turn our thoughts to any object, and raise up its image in
the fancy, it is not the will which creates that idea: It is the
universal Creator, who discovers it to the mind, and renders it present
to us.
56. Thus, according to these philosophers, every thing is full of
God. Not content with the principle, that nothing exists but by his
will, that nothing possesses any power but by his concession: They rob
nature, and all created beings, of every power, in order to render their
dependence on the Deity still more sensible and immediate. They consider
not that, by this theory, they diminish, instead of magnifying, the
grandeur of those attributes, which they affect so much to celebrate. It
argues surely more power in the Deity to delegate a certain degree of
power to inferior creatures than to produce every thing by his own
immediate volition. It argues more wisdom to contrive at first the
fabric of the world with such perfect foresight that, of itself, and by
its proper operation, it may serve all the purposes of providence, than
if the great Creator were obliged every moment to adjust its parts, and
animate by his breath all the wheels of that stupendous machine.
But if we would have a more philosophical confutation of this theory,
perhaps the two following reflections may suffice.
57. First, it seems to me that this theory of the universal energy
and operation of the Supreme Being is too bold ever to carry conviction
with it to a man, sufficiently apprized of the weakness of human reason,
and the narrow limits to which it is confined in all its operations.
Though the chain of arguments which conduct to it were ever so logical,
there must arise a strong suspicion, if not an absolute assurance, that
it has carried us quite beyond the reach of our faculties, when it leads
to conclusions so extraordinary, and so remote from common life and
experience. We are got into fairy land, long ere we have reached the
last steps of our theory; and there we have no reason to trust our
common methods of argument, or to think that our usual analogies and
probabilities have any authority. Our line is too short to fathom such
immense abysses. And however we may flatter ourselves that we are
guided, in every step which we take, by a kind of verisimilitude and
experience, we may be assured that this fancied experience has no
authority when we thus apply it to subjects that lie entirely out of the
sphere of experience. But on this we shall have occasion to touch
afterwards.14
Secondly, I cannot perceive any force in the arguments on which this
theory is founded. We are ignorant, it is true, of the manner in which
bodies operate on each other: Their force or energy is entirely
incomprehensible: But are we not equally ignorant of the manner or force
by which a mind, even the supreme mind, operates either on itself or on
body? Whence, I beseech you, do we acquire any idea of it? We have no
sentiment or consciousness of this power in ourselves. We have no idea
of the Supreme Being but what we learn from reflection on our own
faculties. Were our ignorance, therefore, a good reason for rejecting
any thing, we should be led into that principle of denying all energy in
the Supreme Being as much as in the grossest matter. We surely
comprehend as little the operations of one as of the other. Is it more
difficult to conceive that motion may arise from impulse than that it
may arise from volition? All we know is our profound ignorance in both
cases15.
PART II.
58. But to hasten to a conclusion of this argument, which is already
drawn out to too great a length: We have sought in vain for an idea of
power or necessary connexion in all the sources from which we could
suppose it to be derived. It appears that, in single instances of the
operation of bodies, we never can, by our utmost scrutiny, discover any
thing but one event following another, without being able to comprehend
any force or power by which the cause operates, or any connexion between
it and its supposed effect. The same difficulty occurs in contemplating
the operations of mind on body—where we observe the motion of the latter
to follow upon the volition of the former, but are not able to observe
or conceive the tie which binds together the motion and volition, or the
energy by which the mind produces this effect. The authority of the will
over its own faculties and ideas is not a whit more comprehensible: So
that, upon the whole, there appears not, throughout all nature, any one
instance of connexion which is conceivable by us. All events seem
entirely loose and separate. One event follows another; but we never can
observe any tie between them. They seem conjoined, but never connected.
And as we can have no idea of any thing which never appeared to our
outward sense or inward sentiment, the necessary conclusion seems to be
that we have no idea of connexion or power at all, and that these words
are absolutely without any meaning, when employed either in
philosophical reasonings or common life.
59. But there still remains one method of avoiding this conclusion,
and one source which we have not yet examined. When any natural object
or event is presented, it is impossible for us, by any sagacity or
penetration, to discover, or even conjecture, without experience, what
event will result from it, or to carry our foresight beyond that object
which is immediately present to the memory and senses. Even after one
instance or experiment where we have observed a particular event to
follow upon another, we are not entitled to form a general rule, or
foretell what will happen in like cases; it being justly esteemed an
unpardonable temerity to judge of the whole course of nature from one
single experiment, however accurate or certain. But when one particular
species of event has always, in all instances, been conjoined with
another, we make no longer any scruple of foretelling one upon the
appearance of the other, and of employing that reasoning, which can
alone assure us of any matter of fact or existence. We then call the one
object, Cause; the other, Effect. We suppose that there is some
connexion between them; some power in the one, by which it infallibly
produces the other, and operates with the greatest certainty and
strongest necessity.
It appears, then, that this idea of a necessary connexion among
events arises from a number of similar instances which occur of the
constant conjunction of these events; nor can that idea ever be
suggested by any one of these instances, surveyed in all possible lights
and positions. But there is nothing in a number of instances, different
from every single instance, which is supposed to be exactly similar;
except only, that after a repetition of similar instances, the mind is
carried by habit, upon the appearance of one event, to expect its usual
attendant, and to believe that it will exist. This connexion, therefore,
which we feel in the mind, this customary transition of the imagination
from one object to its usual attendant, is the sentiment or impression
from which we form the idea of power or necessary connexion. Nothing
farther is in the case. Contemplate the subject on all sides; you will
never find any other origin of that idea. This is the sole difference
between one instance, from which we can never receive the idea of
connexion, and a number of similar instances, by which it is suggested.
The first time a man saw the communication of motion by impulse, as by
the shock of two billiard balls, he could not pronounce that the one
event was connected: but only that it was conjoined with the other.
After he has observed several instances of this nature, he then
pronounces them to be connected. What alteration has happened to give
rise to this new idea of connexion? Nothing but that he now feels these
events to be connected in his imagination, and can readily foretell the
existence of one from the appearance of the other. When we say,
therefore, that one object is connected with another, we mean only that
they have acquired a connexion in our thought, and give rise to this
inference, by which they become proofs of each other's existence: A
conclusion which is somewhat extraordinary, but which seems founded on
sufficient evidence. Nor will its evidence be weakened by any general
diffidence of the understanding, or sceptical suspicion concerning every
conclusion which is new and extraordinary. No conclusions can be more
agreeable to scepticism than such as make discoveries concerning the
weakness and narrow limits of human reason and capacity.
60. And what stronger instance can be produced of the surprising
ignorance and weakness of the understanding than the present? For
surely, if there be any relation among objects which it imports to us to
know perfectly, it is that of cause and effect. On this are founded all
our reasonings concerning matter of fact or existence. By means of it
alone we attain any assurance concerning objects which are removed from
the present testimony of our memory and senses. The only immediate
utility of all sciences, is to teach us, how to control and regulate
future events by their causes. Our thoughts and enquiries are,
therefore, every moment, employed about this relation: Yet so imperfect
are the ideas which we form concerning it, that it is impossible to give
any just definition of cause, except what is drawn from something
extraneous and foreign to it. Similar objects are always conjoined with
similar. Of this we have experience. Suitably to this experience,
therefore, we may define a cause to be an object, followed by another,
and where all the objects similar to the first are followed by objects
similar to the second. Or in other words where, if the first object had
not been, the second never had existed. The appearance of a cause always
conveys the mind, by a customary transition, to the idea of the effect.
Of this also we have experience. We may, therefore, suitably to this
experience, form another definition of cause, and call it, an object
followed by another, and whose appearance always conveys the thought to
that other. But though both these definitions be drawn from
circumstances foreign to the cause, we cannot remedy this inconvenience,
or attain any more perfect definition, which may point out that
circumstance in the cause, which gives it a connexion with its effect.
We have no idea of this connexion, nor even any distinct notion what it
is we desire to know, when we endeavour at a conception of it. We say,
for instance, that the vibration of this string is the cause of this
particular sound. But what do we mean by that affirmation? We either
mean that this vibration is followed by this sound, and that all similar
vibrations have been followed by similar sounds: Or, that this vibration
is followed by this sound, and that upon the appearance of one the mind
anticipates the senses, and forms immediately an idea of the other. We
may consider the relation of cause and effect in either of these two
lights; but beyond these, we have no idea of it.16
61. To recapitulate, therefore, the reasonings of this section: Every
idea is copied from some preceding impression or sentiment; and where we
cannot find any impression, we may be certain that there is no idea. In
all single instances of the operation of bodies or minds, there is
nothing that produces any impression, nor consequently can suggest any
idea of power or necessary connexion. But when many uniform instances
appear, and the same object is always followed by the same event; we
then begin to entertain the notion of cause and connexion. We then feel
a new sentiment or impression, to wit, a customary connexion in the
thought or imagination between one object and its usual attendant; and
this sentiment is the original of that idea which we seek for. For as
this idea arises from a number of similar instances, and not from any
single instance, it must arise from that circumstance, in which the
number of instances differ from every individual instance. But this
customary connexion or transition of the imagination is the only
circumstance in which they differ. In every other particular they are
alike. The first instance which we saw of motion communicated by the
shock of two billiard balls (to return to this obvious illustration) is
exactly similar to any instance that may, at present, occur to us;
except only, that we could not, at first, infer one event from the
other; which we are enabled to do at present, after so long a course of
uniform experience. I know not whether the reader will readily apprehend
this reasoning. I am afraid that, should I multiply words about it, or
throw it into a greater variety of lights, it would only become more
obscure and intricate. In all abstract reasonings there is one point of
view which, if we can happily hit, we shall go farther towards
illustrating the subject than by all the eloquence and copious
expression in the world. This point of view we should endeavour to
reach, and reserve the flowers of rhetoric for subjects which are more
adapted to them.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
SECTION VIII.
OF LIBERTY AND NECESSITY.
PART I.
62. It might reasonably be expected in questions which have been
canvassed and disputed with great eagerness, since the first origin of
science and philosophy, that the meaning of all the terms, at least,
should have been agreed upon among the disputants; and our enquiries, in
the course of two thousand years, been able to pass from words to the
true and real subject of the controversy. For how easy may it seem to
give exact definitions of the terms employed in reasoning, and make
these definitions, not the mere sound of words, the object of future
scrutiny and examination? But if we consider the matter more narrowly,
we shall be apt to draw a quite opposite conclusion. From this
circumstance alone, that a controversy has been long kept on foot, and
remains still undecided, we may presume that there is some ambiguity in
the expression, and that the disputants affix different ideas to the
terms employed in the controversy. For as the faculties of the mind are
supposed to be naturally alike in every individual; otherwise nothing
could be more fruitless than to reason or dispute together; it were
impossible, if men affix the same ideas to their terms, that they could
so long form different opinions of the same subject; especially when
they communicate their views, and each party turn themselves on all
sides, in search of arguments which may give them the victory over their
antagonists. It is true, if men attempt the discussion of questions
which lie entirely beyond the reach of human capacity, such as those
concerning the origin of worlds, or the economy of the intellectual
system or region of spirits, they may long beat the air in their
fruitless contests, and never arrive at any determinate conclusion. But
if the question regard any subject of common life and experience,
nothing, one would think, could preserve the dispute so long undecided
but some ambiguous expressions, which keep the antagonists still at a
distance, and hinder them from grappling with each other.
63. This has been the case in the long disputed question concerning
liberty and necessity; and to so remarkable a degree that, if I be not
much mistaken, we shall find, that all mankind, both learned and
ignorant, have always been of the same opinion with regard to this
subject, and that a few intelligible definitions would immediately have
put an end to the whole controversy. I own that this dispute has been so
much canvassed on all hands, and has led philosophers into such a
labyrinth of obscure sophistry, that it is no wonder, if a sensible
reader indulge his ease so far as to turn a deaf ear to the proposal of
such a question, from which he can expect neither instruction or
entertainment. But the state of the argument here proposed may, perhaps,
serve to renew his attention; as it has more novelty, promises at least
some decision of the controversy, and will not much disturb his ease by
any intricate or obscure reasoning.
I hope, therefore, to make it appear that all men have ever agreed in
the doctrine both of necessity and of liberty, according to any
reasonable sense, which can be put on these terms; and that the whole
controversy has hitherto turned merely upon words. We shall begin with
examining the doctrine of necessity.
64. It is universally allowed that matter, in all its operations, is
actuated by a necessary force, and that every natural effect is so
precisely determined by the energy of its cause that no other effect, in
such particular circumstances, could possibly have resulted from it. The
degree and direction of every motion is, by the laws of nature,
prescribed with such exactness that a living creature may as soon arise
from the shock of two bodies as motion in any other degree or direction
than what is actually produced by it. Would we, therefore, form a just
and precise idea of necessity, we must consider whence that idea arises
when we apply it to the operation of bodies.
It seems evident that, if all the scenes of nature were continually
shifted in such a manner that no two events bore any resemblance to each
other, but every object was entirely new, without any similitude to
whatever had been seen before, we should never, in that case, have
attained the least idea of necessity, or of a connexion among these
objects. We might say, upon such a supposition, that one object or event
has followed another; not that one was produced by the other. The
relation of cause and effect must be utterly unknown to mankind.
Inference and reasoning concerning the operations of nature would, from
that moment, be at an end; and the memory and senses remain the only
canals, by which the knowledge of any real existence could possibly have
access to the mind. Our idea, therefore, of necessity and causation
arises entirely from the uniformity observable in the operations of
nature, where similar objects are constantly conjoined together, and the
mind is determined by custom to infer the one from the appearance of the
other. These two circumstances form the whole of that necessity, which
we ascribe to matter. Beyond the constant conjunction of similar
objects, and the consequent inference from one to the other, we have no
notion of any necessity or connexion.
If it appear, therefore, that all mankind have ever allowed, without
any doubt or hesitation, that these two circumstances take place in the
voluntary actions of men, and in the operations of mind; it must follow,
that all mankind have ever agreed in the doctrine of necessity, and that
they have hitherto disputed, merely for not understanding each other.
65. As to the first circumstance, the constant and regular
conjunction of similar events, we may possibly satisfy ourselves by the
following considerations. It is universally acknowledged that there is a
great uniformity among the actions of men, in all nations and ages, and
that human nature remains still the same, in its principles and
operations. The same motives always produce the same actions. The same
events follow from the same causes. Ambition, avarice, self-love,
vanity, friendship, generosity, public spirit: these passions, mixed in
various degrees, and distributed through society, have been, from the
beginning of the world, and still are, the source of all the actions and
enterprises, which have ever been observed among mankind. Would you know
the sentiments, inclinations, and course of life of the Greeks and
Romans? Study well the temper and actions of the French and English: You
cannot be much mistaken in transferring to the former most of the
observations which you have made with regard to the latter. Mankind are
so much the same, in all times and places, that history informs us of
nothing new or strange in this particular. Its chief use is only to
discover the constant and universal principles of human nature, by
showing men in all varieties of circumstances and situations, and
furnishing us with materials from which we may form our observations and
become acquainted with the regular springs of human action and
behaviour. These records of wars, intrigues, factions, and revolutions,
are so many collections of experiments, by which the politician or moral
philosopher fixes the principles of his science, in the same manner as
the physician or natural philosopher becomes acquainted with the nature
of plants, minerals, and other external objects, by the experiments
which he forms concerning them. Nor are the earth, water, and other
elements, examined by Aristotle, and Hippocrates, more like to those
which at present lie under our observation than the men described by
Polybius and Tacitus are to those who now govern the world.
Should a traveller, returning from a far country, bring us an account
of men, wholly different from any with whom we were ever acquainted;
men, who were entirely divested of avarice, ambition, or revenge; who
knew no pleasure but friendship, generosity, and public spirit; we
should immediately, from these circumstances, detect the falsehood, and
prove him a liar, with the same certainty as if he had stuffed his
narration with stories of centaurs and dragons, miracles and prodigies.
And if we would explode any forgery in history, we cannot make use of a
more convincing argument, than to prove, that the actions ascribed to
any person are directly contrary to the course of nature, and that no
human motives, in such circumstances, could ever induce him to such a
conduct. The veracity of Quintus Curtius is as much to be suspected,
when he describes the supernatural courage of Alexander, by which he was
hurried on singly to attack multitudes, as when he describes his
supernatural force and activity, by which he was able to resist them. So
readily and universally do we acknowledge a uniformity in human motives
and actions as well as in the operations of body.
Hence likewise the benefit of that experience, acquired by long life
and a variety of business and company, in order to instruct us in the
principles of human nature, and regulate our future conduct, as well as
speculation. By means of this guide, we mount up to the knowledge of
men's inclinations and motives, from their actions, expressions, and
even gestures; and again descend to the interpretation of their actions
from our knowledge of their motives and inclinations. The general
observations treasured up by a course of experience, give us the clue of
human nature, and teach us to unravel all its intricacies. Pretexts and
appearances no longer deceive us. Public declarations pass for the
specious colouring of a cause. And though virtue and honour be allowed
their proper weight and authority, that perfect disinterestedness, so
often pretended to, is never expected in multitudes and parties; seldom
in their leaders; and scarcely even in individuals of any rank or
station. But were there no uniformity in human actions, and were every
experiment which we could form of this kind irregular and anomalous, it
were impossible to collect any general observations concerning mankind;
and no experience, however accurately digested by reflection, would ever
serve to any purpose. Why is the aged husbandman more skilful in his
calling than the young beginner but because there is a certain
uniformity in the operation of the sun, rain, and earth towards the
production of vegetables; and experience teaches the old practitioner
the rules by which this operation is governed and directed.
66. We must not, however, expect that this uniformity of human
actions should be carried to such a length as that all men, in the same
circumstances, will always act precisely in the same manner, without
making any allowance for the diversity of characters, prejudices, and
opinions. Such a uniformity in every particular, is found in no part of
nature. On the contrary, from observing the variety of conduct in
different men, we are enabled to form a greater variety of maxims, which
still suppose a degree of uniformity and regularity.
Are the manners of men different in different ages and countries? We
learn thence the great force of custom and education, which mould the
human mind from its infancy and form it into a fixed and established
character. Is the behaviour and conduct of the one sex very unlike that
of the other? Is it thence we become acquainted with the different
characters which nature has impressed upon the sexes, and which she
preserves with constancy and regularity? Are the actions of the same
person much diversified in the different periods of his life, from
infancy to old age? This affords room for many general observations
concerning the gradual change of our sentiments and inclinations, and
the different maxims which prevail in the different ages of human
creatures. Even the characters, which are peculiar to each individual,
have a uniformity in their influence; otherwise our acquaintance with
the persons and our observation of their conduct could never teach us
their dispositions, or serve to direct our behaviour with regard to
them.
67. I grant it possible to find some actions, which seem to have no
regular connexion with any known motives, and are exceptions to all the
measures of conduct which have ever been established for the government
of men. But if we would willingly know what judgement should be formed
of such irregular and extraordinary actions, we may consider the
sentiments commonly entertained with regard to those irregular events
which appear in the course of nature, and the operations of external
objects. All causes are not conjoined to their usual effects with like
uniformity. An artificer, who handles only dead matter, may be
disappointed of his aim, as well as the politician, who directs the
conduct of sensible and intelligent agents.
The vulgar, who take things according to their first appearance,
attribute the uncertainty of events to such an uncertainty in the causes
as makes the latter often fail of their usual influence; though they
meet with no impediment in their operation. But philosophers, observing
that, almost in every part of nature, there is contained a vast variety
of springs and principles, which are hid, by reason of their minuteness
or remoteness, find, that it is at least possible the contrariety of
events may not proceed from any contingency in the cause, but from the
secret operation of contrary causes. This possibility is converted into
certainty by farther observation, when they remark that, upon an exact
scrutiny, a contrariety of effects always betrays a contrariety of
causes, and proceeds from their mutual opposition. A peasant can give no
better reason for the stopping of any clock or watch than to say that it
does not commonly go right: But an artist easily perceives that the same
force in the spring or pendulum has always the same influence on the
wheels; but fails of its usual effect, perhaps by reason of a grain of
dust, which puts a stop to the whole movement. From the observation of
several parallel instances, philosophers form a maxim that the connexion
between all causes and effects is equally necessary, and that its
seeming uncertainty in some instances proceeds from the secret
opposition of contrary causes.
Thus, for instance, in the human body, when the usual symptoms of
health or sickness disappoint our expectation; when medicines operate
not with their wonted powers; when irregular events follow from any
particular cause; the philosopher and physician are not surprised at the
matter, nor are ever tempted to deny, in general, the necessity and
uniformity of those principles by which the animal economy is conducted.
They know that a human body is a mighty complicated machine: That many
secret powers lurk in it, which are altogether beyond our comprehension:
That to us it must often appear very uncertain in its operations: And
that therefore the irregular events, which outwardly discover
themselves, can be no proof that the laws of nature are not observed
with the greatest regularity in its internal operations and government.
68. The philosopher, if he be consistent, must apply the same
reasoning to the actions and volitions of intelligent agents. The most
irregular and unexpected resolutions of men may frequently be accounted
for by those who know every particular circumstance of their character
and situation. A person of an obliging disposition gives a peevish
answer: But he has the toothache, or has not dined. A stupid fellow
discovers an uncommon alacrity in his carriage: But he has met with a
sudden piece of good fortune. Or even when an action, as sometimes
happens, cannot be particularly accounted for, either by the person
himself or by others; we know, in general, that the characters of men
are, to a certain degree, inconstant and irregular. This is, in a
manner, the constant character of human nature; though it be applicable,
in a more particular manner, to some persons who have no fixed rule for
their conduct, but proceed in a continued course of caprice and
inconstancy. The internal principles and motives may operate in a
uniform manner, notwithstanding these seeming irregularities; in the
same manner as the winds, rain, clouds, and other variations of the
weather are supposed to be governed by steady principles; though not
easily discoverable by human sagacity and enquiry.
69. Thus it appears, not only that the conjunction between motives
and voluntary actions is as regular and uniform as that between the
cause and effect in any part of nature; but also that this regular
conjunction has been universally acknowledged among mankind, and has
never been the subject of dispute, either in philosophy or common life.
Now, as it is from past experience that we draw all inferences
concerning the future, and as we conclude that objects will always be
conjoined together which we find to have always been conjoined; it may
seem superfluous to prove that this experienced uniformity in human
actions is a source whence we draw inferences concerning them. But in
order to throw the argument into a greater variety of lights we shall
also insist, though briefly, on this latter topic.
The mutual dependence of men is so great in all societies that scarce
any human action is entirely complete in itself, or is performed without
some reference to the actions of others, which are requisite to make it
answer fully the intention of the agent. The poorest artificer, who
labours alone, expects at least the protection of the magistrate, to
ensure him the enjoyment of the fruits of his labour. He also expects
that, when he carries his goods to market, and offers them at a
reasonable price, he shall find purchasers, and shall be able, by the
money he acquires, to engage others to supply him with those commodities
which are requisite for his subsistence. In proportion as men extend
their dealings, and render their intercourse with others more
complicated, they always comprehend, in their schemes of life, a greater
variety of voluntary actions, which they expect, from the proper
motives, to co-operate with their own. In all these conclusions they
take their measures from past experience, in the same manner as in their
reasonings concerning external objects; and firmly believe that men, as
well as all the elements, are to continue, in their operations, the same
that they have ever found them. A manufacturer reckons upon the labour
of his servants for the execution of any work as much as upon the tools
which he employs, and would be equally surprised were his expectations
disappointed. In short, this experimental inference and reasoning
concerning the actions of others enters so much into human life that no
man, while awake, is ever a moment without employing it. Have we not
reason, therefore, to affirm that all mankind have always agreed in the
doctrine of necessity according to the foregoing definition and
explication of it?
70. Nor have philosophers ever entertained a different opinion from
the people in this particular. For, not to mention that almost every
action of their life supposes that opinion, there are even few of the
speculative parts of learning to which it is not essential. What would
become of history, had we not a dependence on the veracity of the
historian according to the experience which we have had of mankind? How
could politics be a science, if laws and forms of goverment had not a
uniform influence upon society? Where would be the foundation of morals,
if particular characters had no certain or determinate power to produce
particular sentiments, and if these sentiments had no constant operation
on actions? And with what pretence could we employ our criticism upon
any poet or polite author, if we could not pronounce the conduct and
sentiments of his actors either natural or unnatural to such characters,
and in such circumstances? It seems almost impossible, therefore, to
engage either in science or action of any kind without acknowledging the
doctrine of necessity, and this inference from motive to voluntary
actions, from characters to conduct.
And indeed, when we consider how aptly natural and moral evidence
link together, and form only one chain of argument, we shall make no
scruple to allow that they are of the same nature, and derived from the
same principles. A prisoner who has neither money nor interest,
discovers the impossibility of his escape, as well when he considers the
obstinacy of the gaoler, as the walls and bars with which he is
surrounded; and, in all attempts for his freedom, chooses rather to work
upon the stone and iron of the one, than upon the inflexible nature of
the other. The same prisoner, when conducted to the scaffold, foresees
his death as certainly from the constancy and fidelity of his guards, as
from the operation of the axe or wheel. His mind runs along a certain
train of ideas: The refusal of the soldiers to consent to his escape;
the action of the executioner; the separation of the head and body;
bleeding, convulsive motions, and death. Here is a connected chain of
natural causes and voluntary actions; but the mind feels no difference
between them in passing from one link to another: Nor is less certain of
the future event than if it were connected with the objects present to
the memory or senses, by a train of causes, cemented together by what we
are pleased to call a physical necessity. The same experienced union has
the same effect on the mind, whether the united objects be motives,
volition, and actions; or figure and motion. We may change the name of
things; but their nature and their operation on the understanding never
change.
Were a man, whom I know to be honest and opulent, and with whom I
live in intimate friendship, to come into my house, where I am
surrounded with my servants, I rest assured that he is not to stab me
before he leaves it in order to rob me of my silver standish; and I no
more suspect this event than the falling of the house itself, which is
new, and solidly built and founded.—But he may have been seized with a
sudden and unknown frenzy.—So may a sudden earthquake arise, and shake
and tumble my house about my ears. I shall therefore change the
suppositions. I shall say that I know with certainty that he is not to
put his hand into the fire and hold it there till it be consumed: And
this event, I think I can foretell with the same assurance, as that, if
he throw himself out at the window, and meet with no obstruction, he
will not remain a moment suspended in the air. No suspicion of an
unknown frenzy can give the least possibility to the former event, which
is so contrary to all the known principles of human nature. A man who at
noon leaves his purse full of gold on the pavement at Charing-Cross, may
as well expect that it will fly away like a feather, as that he will
find it untouched an hour after. Above one half of human reasonings
contain inferences of a similar nature, attended with more or less
degrees of certainty proportioned to our experience of the usual conduct
of mankind in such particular situations.
71. I have frequently considered, what could possibly be the reason
why all mankind, though they have ever, without hesitation, acknowledged
the doctrine of necessity in their whole practice and reasoning, have
yet discovered such a reluctance to acknowledge it in words, and have
rather shown a propensity, in all ages, to profess the contrary opinion.
The matter, I think, may be accounted for after the following manner. If
we examine the operations of body, and the production of effects from
their causes, we shall find that all our faculties can never carry us
farther in our knowledge of this relation than barely to observe that
particular objects are constantly conjoined together, and that the mind
is carried, by a customary transition, from the appearance of one to the
belief of the other. But though this conclusion concerning human
ignorance be the result of the strictest scrutiny of this subject, men
still entertain a strong propensity to believe that they penetrate
farther into the powers of nature, and perceive something like a
necessary connexion between the cause and the effect. When again they
turn their reflections towards the operations of their own minds, and
feel no such connexion of the motive and the action; they are thence apt
to suppose, that there is a difference between the effects which result
from material force, and those which arise from thought and
intelligence. But being once convinced that we know nothing farther of
causation of any kind than merely the constant conjunction of objects,
and the consequent inference of the mind from one to another, and
finding that these two circumstances are universally allowed to have
place in voluntary actions; we may be more easily led to own the same
necessity common to all causes. And though this reasoning may contradict
the systems of many philosophers, in ascribing necessity to the
determinations of the will, we shall find, upon reflection, that they
dissent from it in words only, not in their real sentiment. Necessity,
according to the sense in which it is here taken, has never yet been
rejected, nor can ever, I think, be rejected by any philosopher. It may
only, perhaps, be pretended that the mind can perceive, in the
operations of matter, some farther connexion between the cause and
effect; and connexion that has not place in voluntary actions of
intelligent beings. Now whether it be so or not, can only appear upon
examination; and it is incumbent on these philosophers to make good
their assertion, by defining or describing that necessity, and pointing
it out to us in the operations of material causes.
72. It would seem, indeed, that men begin at the wrong end of this
question concerning liberty and necessity, when they enter upon it by
examining the faculties of the soul, the influence of the understanding,
and the operations of the will. Let them first discuss a more simple
question, namely, the operations of body and of brute unintelligent
matter; and try whether they can there form any idea of causation and
necessity, except that of a constant conjunction of objects, and
subsequent inference of the mind from one to another. If these
circumstances form, in reality, the whole of that necessity, which we
conceive in matter, and if these circumstances be also universally
acknowledged to take place in the operations of the mind, the dispute is
at an end; at least, must be owned to be thenceforth merely verbal. But
as long as we will rashly suppose, that we have some farther idea of
necessity and causation in the operations of external objects; at the
same time, that we can find nothing farther in the voluntary actions of
the mind; there is no possibility of bringing the question to any
determinate issue, while we proceed upon so erroneous a supposition. The
only method of undeceiving us is to mount up higher; to examine the
narrow extent of science when applied to material causes; and to
convince ourselves that all we know of them is the constant conjunction
and inference above mentioned. We may, perhaps, find that it is with
difficulty we are induced to fix such narrow limits to human
understanding: But we can afterwards find no difficulty when we come to
apply this doctrine to the actions of the will. For as it is evident
that these have a regular conjunction with motives and circumstances and
characters, and as we always draw inferences from one to the other, we
must be obliged to acknowledge in words that necessity, which we have
already avowed, in every deliberation of our lives, and in every step of
our conduct and behaviour.17
73. But to proceed in this reconciling project with regard to the
question of liberty and necessity; the most contentious question of
metaphysics, the most contentious science; it will not require many
words to prove, that all mankind have ever agreed in the doctrine of
liberty as well as in that of necessity, and that the whole dispute, in
this respect also, has been hitherto merely verbal. For what is meant by
liberty, when applied to voluntary actions? We cannot surely mean that
actions have so little connexion with motives, inclinations, and
circumstances, that one does not follow with a certain degree of
uniformity from the other, and that one affords no inference by which we
can conclude the existence of the other. For these are plain and
acknowledged matters of fact. By liberty, then, we can only mean a power
of acting or not acting, according to the determinations of the will;
that is, if we choose to remain at rest, we may; if we choose to move,
we also may. Now this hypothetical liberty is universally allowed to
belong to every one who is not a prisoner and in chains. Here, then, is
no subject of dispute.
74. Whatever definition we may give of liberty, we should be careful
to observe two requisite circumstances; first, that it be consistent
with plain matter of fact; secondly, that it be consistent with itself.
If we observe these circumstances, and render our definition
intelligible, I am persuaded that all mankind will be found of one
opinion with regard to it.
It is universally allowed that nothing exists without a cause of its
existence, and that chance, when strictly examined, is a mere negative
word, and means not any real power which has anywhere a being in nature.
But it is pretended that some causes are necessary, some not necessary.
Here then is the advantage of definitions. Let any one define a cause,
without comprehending, as a part of the definition, a necessary
connexion with its effect; and let him show distinctly the origin of the
idea, expressed by the definition; and I shall readily give up the whole
controversy. But if the foregoing explication of the matter be received,
this must be absolutely impracticable. Had not objects a regular
conjunction with each other, we should never have entertained any notion
of cause and effect; and this regular conjunction produces that
inference of the understanding, which is the only connexion, that we can
have any comprehension of. Whoever attempts a definition of cause,
exclusive of these circumstances, will be obliged either to employ
unintelligible terms or such as are synonymous to the term which he
endeavours to define.18 And if the definition above mentioned be
admitted; liberty, when opposed to necessity, not to constraint, is the
same thing with chance; which is universally allowed to have no
existence.
PART II.
75. There is no method of reasoning more common, and yet none more
blameable, than, in philosophical disputes, to endeavour the refutation
of any hypothesis, by a pretence of its dangerous consequences to
religion and morality. When any opinion leads to absurdities, it is
certainly false; but it is not certain that an opinion is false, because
it is of dangerous consequence. Such topics, therefore, ought entirely
to be forborne; as serving nothing to the discovery of truth, but only
to make the person of an antagonist odious. This I observe in general,
without pretending to draw any advantage from it. I frankly submit to an
examination of this kind, and shall venture to affirm that the
doctrines, both of necessity and of liberty, as above explained, are not
only consistent with morality, but are absolutely essential to its
support.
Necessity may be defined two ways, conformably to the two definitions
of cause, of which it makes an essential part. It consists either in the
constant conjunction of like objects, or in the inference of the
understanding from one object to another. Now necessity, in both these
senses, (which, indeed, are at bottom the same) has universally, though
tacitly, in the schools, in the pulpit, and in common life, been allowed
to belong to the will of man; and no one has ever pretended to deny that
we can draw inferences concerning human actions, and that those
inferences are founded on the experienced union of like actions, with
like motives, inclinations, and circumstances. The only particular in
which any one can differ, is, that either, perhaps, he will refuse to
give the name of necessity to this property of human actions: But as
long as the meaning is understood, I hope the word can do no harm: Or
that he will maintain it possible to discover something farther in the
operations of matter. But this, it must be acknowledged, can be of no
consequence to morality or religion, whatever it may be to natural
philosophy or metaphysics. We may here be mistaken in asserting that
there is no idea of any other necessity or connexion in the actions of
body: But surely we ascribe nothing to the actions of the mind, but what
everyone does, and must readily allow of. We change no circumstance in
the received orthodox system with regard to the will, but only in that
with regard to material objects and causes. Nothing, therefore, can be
more innocent, at least, than this doctrine.
76. All laws being founded on rewards and punishments, it is supposed
as a fundamental principle, that these motives have a regular and
uniform influence on the mind, and both produce the good and prevent the
evil actions. We may give to this influence what name we please; but, as
it is usually conjoined with the action, it must be esteemed a cause,
and be looked upon as an instance of that necessity, which we would here
establish.
The only proper object of hatred or vengeance is a person or
creature, endowed with thought and consciousness; and when any criminal
or injurious actions excite that passion, it is only by their relation
to the person, or connexion with him. Actions are, by their very nature,
temporary and perishing; and where they proceed not from some cause in
the character and disposition of the person who performed them, they can
neither redound to his honour, if good; nor infamy, if evil. The actions
themselves may be blameable; they may be contrary to all the rules of
morality and religion: But the person is not answerable for them; and as
they proceeded from nothing in him that is durable and constant, and
leave nothing of that nature behind them, it is impossible he can, upon
their account, become the object of punishment or vengeance. According
to the principle, therefore, which denies necessity, and consequently
causes, a man is as pure and untainted, after having committed the most
horrid crime, as at the first moment of his birth, nor is his character
anywise concerned in his actions, since they are not derived from it,
and the wickedness of the one can never be used as a proof of the
depravity of the other.
Men are not blamed for such actions as they perform ignorantly and
casually, whatever may be the consequences. Why? but because the
principles of these actions are only momentary, and terminate in them
alone. Men are less blamed for such actions as they perform hastily and
unpremeditately than for such as proceed from deliberation. For what
reason? but because a hasty temper, though a constant cause or principle
in the mind, operates only by intervals, and infects not the whole
character. Again, repentance wipes off every crime, if attended with a
reformation of life and manners. How is this to be accounted for? but by
asserting that actions render a person criminal merely as they are
proofs of criminal principles in the mind; and when, by an alteration of
these principles, they cease to be just proofs, they likewise cease to
be criminal. But, except upon the doctrine of necessity, they never were
just proofs, and consequently never were criminal.
77. It will be equally easy to prove, and from the same arguments,
that liberty, according to that definition above mentioned, in which all
men agree, is also essential to morality, and that no human actions,
where it is wanting, are susceptible of any moral qualities, or can be
the objects either of approbation or dislike. For as actions are objects
of our moral sentiment, so far only as they are indications of the
internal character, passions, and affections; it is impossible that they
can give rise either to praise or blame, where they proceed not from
these principles, but are derived altogether from external violence.
78. I pretend not to have obviated or removed all objections to this
theory, with regard to necessity and liberty. I can foresee other
objections, derived from topics which have not here been treated of. It
may be said, for instance, that, if voluntary actions be subjected to
the same laws of necessity with the operations of matter, there is a
continued chain of necessary causes, pre-ordained and pre-determined,
reaching from the original cause of all to every single volition of
every human creature. No contingency anywhere in the universe; no
indifference; no liberty. While we act, we are, at the same time, acted
upon. The ultimate Author of all our volitions is the Creator of the
world, who first bestowed motion on this immense machine, and placed all
beings in that particular position, whence every subsequent event, by an
inevitable necessity, must result. Human actions, therefore, either can
have no moral turpitude at all, as proceeding from so good a cause; or
if they have any turpitude, they must involve our Creator in the same
guilt, while he is acknowledged to be their ultimate cause and author.
For as a man, who fired a mine, is answerable for all the consequences
whether the train he employed be long or short; so wherever a continued
chain of necessary causes is fixed, that Being, either finite or
infinite, who produces the first, is likewise the author of all the
rest, and must both bear the blame and acquire the praise which belong
to them. Our clear and unalterable ideas of morality establish this
rule, upon unquestionable reasons, when we examine the consequences of
any human action; and these reasons must still have greater force when
applied to the volitions and intentions of a Being infinitely wise and
powerful. Ignorance or impotence may be pleaded for so limited a
creature as man; but those imperfections have no place in our Creator.
He foresaw, he ordained, he intended all those actions of men, which we
so rashly pronounce criminal. And we must therefore conclude, either
that they are not criminal, or that the Deity, not man, is accountable
for them. But as either of these positions is absurd and impious, it
follows, that the doctrine from which they are deduced cannot possibly
be true, as being liable to all the same objections. An absurd
consequence, if necessary, proves the original doctrine to be absurd; in
the same manner as criminal actions render criminal the original cause,
if the connexion between them be necessary and evitable.
This objection consists of two parts, which we shall examine
separately; First, that, if human actions can be traced up, by a
necessary chain, to the Deity, they can never be criminal; on account of
the infinite perfection of that Being from whom they are derived, and
who can intend nothing but what is altogether good and laudable. Or,
Secondly, if they be criminal, we must retract the attribute of
perfection, which we ascribe to the Deity, and must acknowledge him to
be the ultimate author of guilt and moral turpitude in all his
creatures.
79. The answer to the first objection seems obvious and convincing.
There are many philosophers who, after an exact scrutiny of all the
phenomena of nature, conclude, that the WHOLE, considered as one system,
is, in every period of its existence, ordered with perfect benevolence;
and that the utmost possible happiness will, in the end, result to all
created beings, without any mixture of positive or absolute ill or
misery. Every physical ill, say they, makes an essential part of this
benevolent system, and could not possibly be removed, even by the Deity
himself, considered as a wise agent, without giving entrance to greater
ill, or excluding greater good, which will result from it. From this
theory, some philosophers, and the ancient Stoics among the rest,
derived a topic of consolation under all afflictions, while they taught
their pupils that those ills under which they laboured were, in reality,
goods to the universe; and that to an enlarged view, which could
comprehend the whole system of nature, every event became an object of
joy and exultation. But though this topic be specious and sublime, it
was soon found in practice weak and ineffectual. You would surely more
irritate than appease a man lying under the racking pains of the gout by
preaching up to him the rectitude of those general laws, which produced
the malignant humours in his body, and led them through the proper
canals, to the sinews and nerves, where they now excite such acute
torments. These enlarged views may, for a moment, please the imagination
of a speculative man, who is placed in ease and security; but neither
can they dwell with constancy on his mind, even though undisturbed by
the emotions of pain or passion; much less can they maintain their
ground when attacked by such powerful antagonists. The affections take a
narrower and more natural survey of their object; and by an economy,
more suitable to the infirmity of human minds, regard alone the beings
around us, and are actuated by such events as appear good or ill to the
private system.
80. The case is the same with moral as with physical ill. It cannot
reasonably be supposed, that those remote considerations, which are
found of so little efficacy with regard to one, will have a more
powerful influence with regard to the other. The mind of man is so
formed by nature that, upon the appearance of certain characters,
dispositions, and actions, it immediately feels the sentiment of
approbation or blame; nor are there any emotions more essential to its
frame and constitution. The characters which engage our approbation are
chiefly such as contribute to the peace and security of human society;
as the characters which excite blame are chiefly such as tend to public
detriment and disturbance: Whence it may reasonably be presumed, that
the moral sentiments arise, either mediately or immediately, from a
reflection of these opposite interests. What though philosophical
meditations establish a different opinion or conjecture; that everything
is right with regard to the WHOLE, and that the qualities, which disturb
society, are, in the main, as beneficial, and are as suitable to the
primary intention of nature as those which more directly promote its
happiness and welfare? Are such remote and uncertain speculations able
to counterbalance the sentiments which arise from the natural and
immediate view of the objects? A man who is robbed of a considerable
sum; does he find his vexation for the loss anywise diminished by these
sublime reflections? Why then should his moral resentment against the
crime be supposed incompatible with them? Or why should not the
acknowledgment of a real distinction between vice and virtue be
reconcileable to all speculative systems of philosophy, as well as that
of a real distinction between personal beauty and deformity? Both these
distinctions are founded in the natural sentiments of the human mind:
And these sentiments are not to be controuled or altered by any
philosophical theory or speculation whatsoever.
81. The second objection admits not of so easy and satisfactory an
answer; nor is it possible to explain distinctly, how the Deity can be
the mediate cause of all the actions of men, without being the author of
sin and moral turpitude. These are mysteries, which mere natural and
unassisted reason is very unfit to handle; and whatever system she
embraces, she must find herself involved in inextricable difficulties,
and even contradictions, at every step which she takes with regard to
such subjects. To reconcile the indifference and contingency of human
actions with prescience; or to defend absolute decrees, and yet free the
Deity from being the author of sin, has been found hitherto to exceed
all the power of philosophy. Happy, if she be thence sensible of her
temerity, when she pries into these sublime mysteries; and leaving a
scene so full of obscurities and perplexities, return, with suitable
modesty, to her true and proper province, the examination of common
life; where she will find difficulties enough to employ her enquiries,
without launching into so boundless an ocean of doubt, uncertainty, and
contradiction!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
SECTION IX.
OF THE REASON OF ANIMALS.
82. All our reasonings concerning matter of fact are founded on a
species of Analogy, which leads us to expect from any cause the same
events, which we have observed to result from similar causes. Where the
causes are entirely similar, the analogy is perfect, and the inference,
drawn from it, is regarded as certain and conclusive: nor does any man
ever entertain a doubt, where he sees a piece of iron, that it will have
weight and cohesion of parts; as in all other instances, which have ever
fallen under his observation. But where the objects have not so exact a
similarity, the analogy is less perfect, and the inference is less
conclusive; though still it has some force, in proportion to the degree
of similarity and resemblance. The anatomical observations, formed upon
one animal, are, by this species of reasoning, extended to all animals;
and it is certain, that when the circulation of the blood, for instance,
is clearly proved to have place in one creature, as a frog, or fish, it
forms a strong presumption, that the same principle has place in all.
These analogical observations may be carried farther, even to this
science, of which we are now treating; and any theory, by which we
explain the operations of the understanding, or the origin and connexion
of the passions in man, will acquire additional authority, if we find,
that the same theory is requisite to explain the same phenomena in all
other animals. We shall make trial of this, with regard to the
hypothesis, by which we have, in the foregoing discourse, endeavoured to
account for all experimental reasonings; and it is hoped, that this new
point of view will serve to confirm all our former observations.
83. First, It seems evident, that animals as well as men learn many
things from experience, and infer, that the same events will always
follow from the same causes. By this principle they become acquainted
with the more obvious properties of external objects, and gradually,
from their birth, treasure up a knowledge of the nature of fire, water,
earth, stones, heights, depths, &c., and of the effects which result
from their operation. The ignorance and inexperience of the young are
here plainly distinguishable from the cunning and sagacity of the old,
who have learned, by long observation, to avoid what hurt them, and to
pursue what gave ease or pleasure. A horse, that has been accustomed to
the field, becomes acquainted with the proper height which he can leap,
and will never attempt what exceeds his force and ability. An old
greyhound will trust the more fatiguing part of the chace to the
younger, and will place himself so as to meet the hare in her doubles;
nor are the conjectures, which he forms on this occasion, founded in any
thing but his observation and experience.
This is still more evident from the effects of discipline and
education on animals, who, by the proper application of rewards and
punishments, may be taught any course of action, and most contrary to
their natural instincts and propensities. Is it not experience, which
renders a dog apprehensive of pain, when you menace him, or lift up the
whip to beat him? Is it not even experience, which makes him answer to
his name, and infer, from such an arbitrary sound, that you mean him
rather than any of his fellows, and intend to call him, when you
pronounce it in a certain manner, and with a certain tone and accent?
In all these cases, we may observe, that the animal infers some fact
beyond what immediately strikes his senses; and that this inference is
altogether founded on past experience, while the creature expects from
the present object the same consequences, which it has always found in
its observation to result from similar objects.
84. Secondly, It is impossible, that this inference of the animal can
be founded on any process of argument or reasoning, by which he
concludes, that like events must follow like objects, and that the
course of nature will always be regular in its operations. For if there
be in reality any arguments of this nature, they surely lie too abstruse
for the observation of such imperfect understandings; since it may well
employ the utmost care and attention of a philosophic genius to discover
and observe them. Animals, therefore, are not guided in these inferences
by reasoning: Neither are children: Neither are the generality of
mankind, in their ordinary actions and conclusions: Neither are
philosophers themselves, who, in all the active parts of life, are, in
the main, the same with the vulgar, and are governed by the same maxims.
Nature must have provided some other principle, of more ready, and more
general use and application; nor can an operation of such immense
consequence in life, as that of inferring effects from causes, be
trusted to the uncertain process of reasoning and argumentation. Were
this doubtful with regard to men, it seems to admit of no question with
regard to the brute creation; and the conclusion being once firmly
established in the one, we have a strong presumption, from all the rules
of analogy, that it ought to be universally admitted, without any
exception or reserve. It is custom alone, which engages animals, from
every object, that strikes their senses, to infer its usual attendant,
and carries their imagination, from the appearance of the one, to
conceive the other, in that particular manner, which we denominate
belief. No other explication can be given of this operation, in all the
higher, as well as lower classes of sensitive beings, which fall under
our notice and observation 19.
85. But though animals learn many parts of their knowledge from
observation, there are also many parts of it, which they derive from the
original hand of nature; which much exceed the share of capacity they
possess on ordinary occasions; and in which they improve, little or
nothing, by the longest practice and experience. These we denominate
Instincts, and are so apt to admire as something very extraordinary, and
inexplicable by all the disquisitions of human understanding. But our
wonder will, perhaps, cease or diminish, when we consider, that the
experimental reasoning itself, which we possess in common with beasts,
and on which the whole conduct of life depends, is nothing but a species
of instinct or mechanical power, that acts in us unknown to ourselves;
and in its chief operations, is not directed by any such relations or
comparisons of ideas, as are the proper objects of our intellectual
faculties. Though the instinct be different, yet still it is an
instinct, which teaches a man to avoid the fire; as much as that, which
teaches a bird, with such exactness, the art of incubation, and the
whole economy and order of its nursery.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
SECTION X
OF MIRACLES.
PART I.
86. There is, in Dr. Tillotson's writings, an argument against the real
presence, which is as concise, and elegant, and strong as any argument
can possibly be supposed against a doctrine, so little worthy of a
serious refutation. It is acknowledged on all hands, says that learned
prelate, that the authority, either of the scripture or of tradition, is
founded merely in the testimony of the apostles, who were eye-witnesses
to those miracles of our Saviour, by which he proved his divine mission.
Our evidence, then, for the truth of the Christian religion is less than
the evidence for the truth of our senses; because, even in the first
authors of our religion, it was no greater; and it is evident it must
diminish in passing from them to their disciples; nor can any one rest
such confidence in their testimony, as in the immediate object of his
senses. But a weaker evidence can never destroy a stronger; and
therefore, were the doctrine of the real presence ever so clearly
revealed in scripture, it were directly contrary to the rules of just
reasoning to give our assent to it. It contradicts sense, though both
the scripture and tradition, on which it is supposed to be built, carry
not such evidence with them as sense; when they are considered merely as
external evidences, and are not brought home to every one's breast, by
the immediate operation of the Holy Spirit.
Nothing is so convenient as a decisive argument of this kind, which
must at least silence the most arrogant bigotry and superstition, and
free us from their impertinent solicitations. I flatter myself, that I
have discovered an argument of a like nature, which, if just, will, with
the wise and learned, be an everlasting check to all kinds of
superstitious delusion, and consequently, will be useful as long as the
world endures. For so long, I presume, will the accounts of miracles and
prodigies be found in all history, sacred and profane.
87. Though experience be our only guide in reasoning concerning
matters of fact; it must be acknowledged, that this guide is not
altogether infallible, but in some cases is apt to lead us into errors.
One, who in our climate, should expect better weather in any week of
June than in one of December, would reason justly, and conformably to
experience; but it is certain, that he may happen, in the event, to find
himself mistaken. However, we may observe, that, in such a case, he
would have no cause to complain of experience; because it commonly
informs us beforehand of the uncertainty, by that contrariety of events,
which we may learn from a diligent observation. All effects follow not
with like certainty from their supposed causes. Some events are found,
in all countries and all ages, to have been constantly conjoined
together: Others are found to have been more variable, and sometimes to
disappoint our expectations; so that, in our reasonings concerning
matter of fact, there are all imaginable degrees of assurance, from the
highest certainty to the lowest species of moral evidence.
A wise man, therefore, proportions his belief to the evidence. In
such conclusions as are founded on an infallible experience, he expects
the event with the last degree of assurance, and regards his past
experience as a full proof of the future existence of that event. In
other cases, he proceeds with more caution: He weighs the opposite
experiments: He considers which side is supported by the greater number
of experiments: to that side he inclines, with doubt and hesitation; and
when at last he fixes his judgement, the evidence exceeds not what we
properly call probability. All probability, then, supposes an opposition
of experiments and observations, where the one side is found to
overbalance the other, and to produce a degree of evidence, proportioned
to the superiority. A hundred instances or experiments on one side, and
fifty on another, afford a doubtful expectation of any event; though a
hundred uniform experiments, with only one that is contradictory,
reasonably beget a pretty strong degree of assurance. In all cases, we
must balance the opposite experiments, where they are opposite, and
deduct the smaller number from the greater, in order to know the exact
force of the superior evidence.
88. To apply these principles to a particular instance; we may
observe, that there is no species of reasoning more common, more useful,
and even necessary to human life, than that which is derived from the
testimony of men, and the reports of eye-witnesses and spectators. This
species of reasoning, perhaps, one may deny to be founded on the
relation of cause and effect. I shall not dispute about a word. It will
be sufficient to observe that our assurance in any argument of this kind
is derived from no other principle than our observation of the veracity
of human testimony, and of the usual conformity of facts to the reports
of witnesses. It being a general maxim, that no objects have any
discoverable connexion together, and that all the inferences, which we
can draw from one to another, are founded merely on our experience of
their constant and regular conjunction; it is evident, that we ought not
to make an exception to this maxim in favour of human testimony, whose
connexion with any event seems, in itself, as little necessary as any
other. Were not the memory tenacious to a certain degree, had not men
commonly an inclination to truth and a principle of probity; were they
not sensible to shame, when detected in a falsehood: Were not these, I
say, discovered by experience to be qualities, inherent in human nature,
we should never repose the least confidence in human testimony. A man
delirious, or noted for falsehood and villany, has no manner of
authority with us.
And as the evidence, derived from witnesses and human testimony, is
founded on past experience, so it varies with the experience, and is
regarded either as a proof or a probability, according as the
conjunction between any particular kind of report and any kind of object
has been found to be constant or variable. There are a number of
circumstances to be taken into consideration in all judgements of this
kind; and the ultimate standard, by which we determine all disputes,
that may arise concerning them, is always derived from experience and
observation. Where this experience is not entirely uniform on any side,
it is attended with an unavoidable contrariety in our judgements, and
with the same opposition and mutual destruction of argument as in every
other kind of evidence. We frequently hesitate concerning the reports of
others. We balance the opposite circumstances, which cause any doubt or
uncertainty; and when we discover a superiority on any side, we incline
to it; but still with a diminution of assurance, in proportion to the
force of its antagonist.
89. This contrariety of evidence, in the present case, may be derived
from several different causes; from the opposition of contrary
testimony; from the character or number of the witnesses; from the
manner of their delivering their testimony; or from the union of all
these circumstances. We entertain a suspicion concerning any matter of
fact, when the witnesses contradict each other; when they are but few,
or of a doubtful character; when they have an interest in what they
affirm; when they deliver their testimony with hesitation, or on the
contrary, with too violent asseverations. There are many other
particulars of the same kind, which may diminish or destroy the force of
any argument, derived from human testimony.
Suppose, for instance, that the fact, which the testimony endeavours
to establish, partakes of the extraordinary and the marvellous; in that
case, the evidence, resulting from the testimony, admits of a
diminution, greater or less, in proportion as the fact is more or less
unusual. The reason why we place any credit in witnesses and historians,
is not derived from any connexion, which we perceive a priori, between
testimony and reality, but because we are accustomed to find a
conformity between them. But when the fact attested is such a one as has
seldom fallen under our observation, here is a contest of two opposite
experiences; of which the one destroys the other, as far as its force
goes, and the superior can only operate on the mind by the force, which
remains. The very same principle of experience, which gives us a certain
degree of assurance in the testimony of witnesses, gives us also, in
this case, another degree of assurance against the fact, which they
endeavour to establish; from which contradition there necessarily arises
a counterpoize, and mutual destruction of belief and authority.
I should not believe such a story were it told me by Cato, was a
proverbial saying in Rome, even during the lifetime of that
philosophical patriot.20 The incredibility of a fact, it was allowed,
might invalidate so great an authority.
The Indian prince, who refused to believe the first relations
concerning the effects of frost, reasoned justly; and it naturally
required very strong testimony to engage his assent to facts, that arose
from a state of nature, with which he was unacquainted, and which bore
so little analogy to those events, of which he had had constant and
uniform experience. Though they were not contrary to his experience,
they were not conformable to it.21
90. But in order to encrease the probability against the testimony of
witnesses, let us suppose, that the fact, which they affirm, instead of
being only marvellous, is really miraculous; and suppose also, that the
testimony considered apart and in itself, amounts to an entire proof; in
that case, there is proof against proof, of which the strongest must
prevail, but still with a diminution of its force, in proportion to that
of its antagonist.
A miracle is a violation of the laws of nature; and as a firm and
unalterable experience has established these laws, the proof against a
miracle, from the very nature of the fact, is as entire as any argument
from experience can possibly be imagined. Why is it more than probable,
that all men must die; that lead cannot, of itself, remain suspended in
the air; that fire consumes wood, and is extinguished by water; unless
it be, that these events are found agreeable to the laws of nature, and
there is required a violation of these laws, or in other words, a
miracle to prevent them? Nothing is esteemed a miracle, if it ever
happen in the common course of nature. It is no miracle that a man,
seemingly in good health, should die on a sudden: because such a kind of
death, though more unusual than any other, has yet been frequently
observed to happen. But it is a miracle, that a dead man should come to
life; because that has never been observed in any age or country. There
must, therefore, be a uniform experience against every miraculous event,
otherwise the event would not merit that appellation. And as a uniform
experience amounts to a proof, there is here a direct and full proof,
from the nature of the fact, against the existence of any miracle; nor
can such a proof be destroyed, or the miracle rendered credible, but by
an opposite proof, which is superior.22
91. The plain consequence is (and it is a general maxim worthy of our
attention), 'That no testimony is sufficient to establish a miracle,
unless the testimony be of such a kind, that its falsehood would be more
miraculous, than the fact, which it endeavours to establish; and even in
that case there is a mutual destruction of arguments, and the superior
only gives us an assurance suitable to that degree of force, which
remains, after deducting the inferior.' When anyone tells me, that he
saw a dead man restored to life, I immediately consider with myself,
whether it be more probable, that this person should either deceive or
be deceived, or that the fact, which he relates, should really have
happened. I weigh the one miracle against the other; and according to
the superiority, which I discover, I pronounce my decision, and always
reject the greater miracle. If the falsehood of his testimony would be
more miraculous, than the event which he relates; then, and not till
then, can he pretend to command my belief or opinion.
PART II.
92. In the foregoing reasoning we have supposed, that the testimony,
upon which a miracle is founded, may possibly amount to an entire proof,
and that the falsehood of that testimony would be a real prodigy: But it
is easy to shew, that we have been a great deal too liberal in our
concession, and that there never was a miraculous event established on
so full an evidence.
For first, there is not to be found, in all history, any miracle
attested by a sufficient number of men, of such unquestioned good-sense,
education, and learning, as to secure us against all delusion in
themselves; of such undoubted integrity, as to place them beyond all
suspicion of any design to deceive others; of such credit and reputation
in the eyes of mankind, as to have a great deal to lose in case of their
being detected in any falsehood; and at the same time, attesting facts
performed in such a public manner and in so celebrated a part of the
world, as to render the detection unavoidable: All which circumstances
are requisite to give us a full assurance in the testimony of men.
93. Secondly. We may observe in human nature a principle which, if
strictly examined, will be found to diminish extremely the assurance,
which we might, from human testimony, have, in any kind of prodigy. The
maxim, by which we commonly conduct ourselves in our reasonings, is,
that the objects, of which we have no experience, resembles those, of
which we have; that what we have found to be most usual is always most
probable; and that where there is an opposition of arguments, we ought
to give the preference to such as are founded on the greatest number of
past observations. But though, in proceeding by this rule, we readily
reject any fact which is unusual and incredible in an ordinary degree;
yet in advancing farther, the mind observes not always the same rule;
but when anything is affirmed utterly absurd and miraculous, it rather
the more readily admits of such a fact, upon account of that very
circumstance, which ought to destroy all its authority. The passion of
surprise and wonder, arising from miracles, being an agreeable emotion,
gives a sensible tendency towards the belief of those events, from which
it is derived. And this goes so far, that even those who cannot enjoy
this pleasure immediately, nor can believe those miraculous events, of
which they are informed, yet love to partake of the satisfaction at
second-hand or by rebound, and place a pride and delight in exciting the
admiration of others.
With what greediness are the miraculous accounts of travellers
received, their descriptions of sea and land monsters, their relations
of wonderful adventures, strange men, and uncouth manners? But if the
spirit of religion join itself to the love of wonder, there is an end of
common sense; and human testimony, in these circumstances, loses all
pretensions to authority. A religionist may be an enthusiast, and
imagine he sees what has no reality: he may know his narrative to be
false, and yet persevere in it, with the best intentions in the world,
for the sake of promoting so holy a cause: or even where this delusion
has not place, vanity, excited by so strong a temptation, operates on
him more powerfully than on the rest of mankind in any other
circumstances; and self-interest with equal force. His auditors may not
have, and commonly have not, sufficient judgement to canvass his
evidence: what judgement they have, they renounce by principle, in these
sublime and mysterious subjects: or if they were ever so willing to
employ it, passion and a heated imagination disturb the regularity of
its operations. Their credulity increases his impudence: and his
impudence overpowers their credulity.
Eloquence, when at its highest pitch, leaves little room for reason
or reflection; but addressing itself entirely to the fancy or the
affections, captivates the willing hearers, and subdues their
understanding. Happily, this pitch it seldom attains. But what a Tully
or a Demosthenes could scarcely effect over a Roman or Athenian
audience, every Capuchin, every itinerant or stationary teacher can
perform over the generality of mankind, and in a higher degree, by
touching such gross and vulgar passions.
The many instances of forged miracles, and prophecies, and
supernatural events, which, in all ages, have either been detected by
contrary evidence, or which detect themselves by their absurdity, prove
sufficiently the strong propensity of mankind to the extraordinary and
the marvellous, and ought reasonably to beget a suspicion against all
relations of this kind. This is our natural way of thinking, even with
regard to the most common and most credible events. For instance: There
is no kind of report which rises so easily, and spreads so quickly,
especially in country places and provincial towns, as those concerning
marriages; insomuch that two young persons of equal condition never see
each other twice, but the whole neighbourhood immediately join them
together. The pleasure of telling a piece of news so interesting, of
propagating it, and of being the first reporters of it, spreads the
intelligence. And this is so well known, that no man of sense gives
attention to these reports, till he find them confirmed by some greater
evidence. Do not the same passions, and others still stronger, incline
the generality of mankind to believe and report, with the greatest
vehemence and assurance, all religious miracles?
94. Thirdly. It forms a strong presumption against all supernatural
and miraculous relations, that they are observed chiefly to abound among
ignorant and barbarous nations; or if a civilized people has ever given
admission to any of them, that people will be found to have received
them from ignorant and barbarous ancestors, who transmitted them with
that inviolable sanction and authority, which always attend received
opinions. When we peruse the first histories of all nations, we are apt
to imagine ourselves transported into some new world; where the whole
frame of nature is disjointed, and every element performs its operations
in a different manner, from what it does at present. Battles,
revolutions, pestilence, famine and death, are never the effect of those
natural causes, which we experience. Prodigies, omens, oracles,
judgements, quite obscure the few natural events, that are intermingled
with them. But as the former grow thinner every page, in proportion as
we advance nearer the enlightened ages, we soon learn, that there is
nothing mysterious or supernatural in the case, but that all proceeds
from the usual propensity of mankind towards the marvellous, and that,
though this inclination may at intervals receive a check from sense and
learning, it can never be thoroughly extirpated from human nature.
It is strange, a judicious reader is apt to say, upon the perusal of
these wonderful historians, that such prodigious events never happen in
our days. But it is nothing strange, I hope, that men should lie in all
ages. You must surely have seen instances enough of that frailty. You
have yourself heard many such marvellous relations started, which, being
treated with scorn by all the wise and judicious, have at last been
abandoned even by the vulgar. Be assured, that those renowned lies,
which have spread and flourished to such a monstrous height, arose from
like beginnings; but being sown in a more proper soil, shot up at last
into prodigies almost equal to those which they relate.
It was a wise policy in that false prophet, Alexander, who though now
forgotten, was once so famous, to lay the first scene of his impostures
in Paphlagonia, where, as Lucian tells us, the people were extremely
ignorant and stupid, and ready to swallow even the grossest delusion.
People at a distance, who are weak enough to think the matter at all
worth enquiry, have no opportunity of receiving better information. The
stories come magnified to them by a hundred circumstances. Fools are
industrious in propagating the imposture; while the wise and learned are
contented, in general, to deride its absurdity, without informing
themselves of the particular facts, by which it may be distinctly
refuted. And thus the impostor above mentioned was enabled to proceed,
from his ignorant Paphlagonians, to the enlisting of votaries, even
among the Grecian philosophers, and men of the most eminent rank and
distinction in Rome: nay, could engage the attention of that sage
emperor Marcus Aurelius; so far as to make him trust the success of a
military expedition to his delusive prophecies.
The advantages are so great, of starting an imposture among an
ignorant people, that, even though the delusion should be too gross to
impose on the generality of them (which, though seldom, is sometimes the
case) it has a much better chance for succeeding in remote countries,
than if the first scene had been laid in a city renowned for arts and
knowledge. The most ignorant and barbarous of these barbarians carry the
report abroad. None of their countrymen have a large correspondence, or
sufficient credit and authority to contradict and beat down the
delusion. Men's inclination to the marvellous has full opportunity to
display itself. And thus a story, which is universally exploded in the
place where it was first started, shall pass for certain at a thousand
miles distance. But had Alexander fixed his residence at Athens, the
philosophers of that renowned mart of learning had immediately spread,
throughout the whole Roman empire, their sense of the matter; which,
being supported by so great authority, and displayed by all the force of
reason and eloquence, had entirely opened the eyes of mankind. It is
true; Lucian, passing by chance through Paphlagonia, had an opportunity
of performing this good office. But, though much to be wished, it does
not always happen, that every Alexander meets with a Lucian, ready to
expose and detect his impostures.
95. I may add as a fourth reason, which diminishes the authority of
prodigies, that there is no testimony for any, even those which have not
been expressly detected, that is not opposed by an infinite number of
witnesses; so that not only the miracle destroys the credit of
testimony, but the testimony destroys itself. To make this the better
understood, let us consider, that, in matters of religion, whatever is
different is contrary; and that it is impossible the religions of
ancient Rome, of Turkey, of Siam, and of China should, all of them, be
established on any solid foundation. Every miracle, therefore, pretended
to have been wrought in any of these religions (and all of them abound
in miracles), as its direct scope is to establish the particular system
to which it is attributed; so has it the same force, though more
indirectly, to overthrow every other system. In destroying a rival
system, it likewise destroys the credit of those miracles, on which that
system was established; so that all the prodigies of different religions
are to be regarded as contrary facts, and the evidences of these
prodigies, whether weak or strong, as opposite to each other. According
to this method of reasoning, when we believe any miracle of Mahomet or
his successors, we have for our warrant the testimony of a few barbarous
Arabians: And on the other hand, we are to regard the authority of Titus
Livius, Plutarch, Tacitus, and, in short, of all the authors and
witnesses, Grecian, Chinese, and Roman Catholic, who have related any
miracle in their particular religion; I say, we are to regard their
testimony in the same light as if they had mentioned that Mahometan
miracle, and had in express terms contradicted it, with the same
certainty as they have for the miracle they relate. This argument may
appear over subtile and refined; but is not in reality different from
the reasoning of a judge, who supposes, that the credit of two
witnesses, maintaining a crime against any one, is destroyed by the
testimony of two others, who affirm him to have been two hundred leagues
distant, at the same instant when the crime is said to have been
committed.
96. One of the best attested miracles in all profane history, is that
which Tacitus reports of Vespasian, who cured a blind man in Alexandria,
by means of his spittle, and a lame man by the mere touch of his foot;
in obedience to a vision of the god Serapis, who had enjoined them to
have recourse to the Emperor, for these miraculous cures. The story may
be seen in that fine historian23; where every circumstance seems to add
weight to the testimony, and might be displayed at large with all the
force of argument and eloquence, if any one were now concerned to
enforce the evidence of that exploded and idolatrous superstition. The
gravity, solidity, age, and probity of so great an emperor, who, through
the whole course of his life, conversed in a familiar manner with his
friends and courtiers, and never affected those extraordinary airs of
divinity assumed by Alexander and Demetrius. The historian, a
cotemporary writer, noted for candour and veracity, and withal, the
greatest and most penetrating genius, perhaps, of all antiquity; and so
free from any tendency to credulity, that he even lies under the
contrary imputation, of atheism and profaneness: The persons, from whose
authority he related the miracle, of established character for judgement
and veracity, as we may well presume; eye-witnesses of the fact, and
confirming their testimony, after the Flavian family was despoiled of
the empire, and could no longer give any reward, as the price of a lie.
Utrumque, qui interfuere, nunc quoque memorant, postquam nullum mendacio
pretium. To which if we add the public nature of the facts, as related,
it will appear, that no evidence can well be supposed stronger for so
gross and so palpable a falsehood.
There is also a memorable story related by Cardinal de Retz, which
may well deserve our consideration. When that intriguing politician fled
into Spain, to avoid the persecution of his enemies, he passed through
Saragossa, the capital of Arragon, where he was shewn, in the cathedral,
a man, who had served seven years as a door-keeper, and was well known
to every body in town, that had ever paid his devotions at that church.
He had been seen, for so long a time, wanting a leg; but recovered that
limb by the rubbing of holy oil upon the stump; and the cardinal assures
us that he saw him with two legs. This miracle was vouched by all the
canons of the church; and the whole company in town were appealed to for
a confirmation of the fact; whom the cardinal found, by their zealous
devotion, to be thorough believers of the miracle. Here the relater was
also cotemporary to the supposed prodigy, of an incredulous and
libertine character, as well as of great genius; the miracle of so
singular a nature as could scarcely admit of a counterfeit, and the
witnesses very numerous, and all of them, in a manner, spectators of the
fact, to which they gave their testimony. And what adds mightily to the
force of the evidence, and may double our surprise on this occasion, is,
that the cardinal himself, who relates the story, seems not to give any
credit to it, and consequently cannot be suspected of any concurrence in
the holy fraud. He considered justly, that it was not requisite, in
order to reject a fact of this nature, to be able accurately to disprove
the testimony, and to trace its falsehood, through all the circumstances
of knavery and credulity which produced it. He knew, that, as this was
commonly altogether impossible at any small distance of time and place;
so was it extremely difficult, even where one was immediately present,
by reason of the bigotry, ignorance, cunning, and roguery of a great
part of mankind. He therefore concluded, like a just reasoner, that such
an evidence carried falsehood upon the very face of it, and that a
miracle, supported by any human testimony, was more properly a subject
of derision than of argument.
There surely never was a greater number of miracles ascribed to one
person, than those, which were lately said to have been wrought in
France upon the tomb of Abb(c) Paris, the famous Jansenist, with whose
sanctity the people were so long deluded. The curing of the sick, giving
hearing to the deaf, and sight to the blind, were every where talked of
as the usual effects of that holy sepulchre. But what is more
extraordinary; many of the miracles were immediately proved upon the
spot, before judges of unquestioned integrity, attested by witnesses of
credit and distinction, in a learned age, and on the most eminent
theatre that is now in the world. Nor is this all: a relation of them
was published and dispersed every where; nor were the Jesuits, though a
learned body, supported by the civil magistrate, and determined enemies
to those opinions, in whose favour the miracles were said to have been
wrought, ever able distinctly to refute or detect them24. Where shall we
find such a number of circumstances, agreeing to the corroboration of
one fact? And what have we to oppose to such a cloud of witnesses, but
the absolute impossibility or miraculous nature of the events, which
they relate? And this surely, in the eyes of all reasonable people, will
alone be regarded as a sufficient refutation.
97. Is the consequence just, because some human testimony has the
utmost force and authority in some cases, when it relates the battle of
Philippi or Pharsalia for instance; that therefore all kinds of
testimony must, in all cases, have equal force and authority? Suppose
that the Caesarean and Pompeian factions had, each of them, claimed the
victory in these battles, and that the historians of each party had
uniformly ascribed the advantage to their own side; how could mankind,
at this distance, have been able to determine between them? The
contrariety is equally strong between the miracles related by Herodotus
or Plutarch, and those delivered by Mariana, Bede, or any monkish
historian.
The wise lend a very academic faith to every report which favours the
passion of the reporter; whether it magnifies his country, his family,
or himself, or in any other way strikes in with his natural inclinations
and propensities. But what greater temptation than to appear a
missionary, a prophet, an ambassador from heaven? Who would not
encounter many dangers and difficulties, in order to attain so sublime a
character? Or if, by the help of vanity and a heated imagination, a man
has first made a convert of himself, and entered seriously into the
delusion; who ever scruples to make use of pious frauds, in support of
so holy and meritorious a cause?
The smallest spark may here kindle into the greatest flame; because
the materials are always prepared for it. The avidum genus
auricularum25, the gazing populace, receive greedily, without
examination, whatever sooths superstition, and promotes wonder.
How many stories of this nature have, in all ages, been detected and
exploded in their infancy? How many more have been celebrated for a
time, and have afterwards sunk into neglect and oblivion? Where such
reports, therefore, fly about, the solution of the phenomenon is
obvious; and we judge in conformity to regular experience and
observation, when we account for it by the known and natural principles
of credulity and delusion. And shall we, rather than have a recourse to
so natural a solution, allow of a miraculous violation of the most
established laws of nature?
I need not mention the difficulty of detecting a falsehood in any
private or even public history, at the place, where it is said to
happen; much more when the scene is removed to ever so small a distance.
Even a court of judicature, with all the authority, accuracy, and
judgement, which they can employ, find themselves often at a loss to
distinguish between truth and falsehood in the most recent actions. But
the matter never comes to any issue, if trusted to the common method of
altercations and debate and flying rumours; especially when men's
passions have taken part on either side.
In the infancy of new religions, the wise and learned commonly esteem
the matter too inconsiderable to deserve their attention or regard. And
when afterwards they would willingly detect the cheat, in order to
undeceive the deluded multitude, the season is now past, and the records
and witnesses, which might clear up the matter, have perished beyond
recovery.
No means of detection remain, but those which must be drawn from the
very testimony itself of the reporters: and these, though always
sufficient with the judicious and knowing, are commonly too fine to fall
under the comprehension of the vulgar.
98. Upon the whole, then, it appears, that no testimony for any kind
of miracle has ever amounted to a probability, much less to a proof; and
that, even supposing it amounted to a proof, it would be opposed by
another proof; derived from the very nature of the fact, which it would
endeavour to establish. It is experience only, which gives authority to
human testimony; and it is the same experience, which assures us of the
laws of nature. When, therefore, these two kinds of experience are
contrary, we have nothing to do but substract the one from the other,
and embrace an opinion, either on one side or the other, with that
assurance which arises from the remainder. But according to the
principle here explained, this substraction, with regard to all popular
religions, amounts to an entire annihilation; and therefore we may
establish it as a maxim, that no human testimony can have such force as
to prove a miracle, and make it a just foundation for any such system of
religion.
99. I beg the limitations here made may be remarked, when I say, that
a miracle can never be proved, so as to be the foundation of a system of
religion. For I own, that otherwise, there may possibly be miracles, or
violations of the usual course of nature, of such a kind as to admit of
proof from human testimony; though, perhaps, it will be impossible to
find any such in all the records of history. Thus, suppose, all authors,
in all languages, agree, that, from the first of January 1600, there was
a total darkness over the whole earth for eight days: suppose that the
tradition of this extraordinary event is still strong and lively among
the people: that all travellers, who return from foreign countries,
bring us accounts of the same tradition, without the least variation or
contradiction: it is evident, that our present philosophers, instead of
doubting the fact, ought to receive it as certain, and ought to search
for the causes whence it might be derived. The decay, corruption, and
dissolution of nature, is an event rendered probable by so many
analogies, that any phenomenon, which seems to have a tendency towards
that catastrophe, comes within the reach of human testimony, if that
testimony be very extensive and uniform.
But suppose, that all the historians who treat of England, should
agree, that, on the first of January 1600, Queen Elizabeth died; that
both before and after her death she was seen by her physicians and the
whole court, as is usual with persons of her rank; that her successor
was acknowledged and proclaimed by the parliament; and that, after being
interred a month, she again appeared, resumed the throne, and governed
England for three years: I must confess that I should be surprised at
the concurrence of so many odd circumstances, but should not have the
least inclination to believe so miraculous an event. I should not doubt
of her pretended death, and of those other public circumstances that
followed it: I should only assert it to have been pretended, and that it
neither was, nor possibly could be real. You would in vain object to me
the difficulty, and almost impossibility of deceiving the world in an
affair of such consequence; the wisdom and solid judgement of that
renowned queen; with the little or no advantage which she could reap
from so poor an artifice: All this might astonish me; but I would still
reply, that the knavery and folly of men are such common phenomena, that
I should rather believe the most extraordinary events to arise from
their concurrence, than admit of so signal a violation of the laws of
nature.
But should this miracle be ascribed to any new system of religion;
men, in all ages, have been so much imposed on by ridiculous stories of
that kind, that this very circumstance would be a full proof of a cheat,
and sufficient, with all men of sense, not only to make them reject the
fact, but even reject it without farther examination. Though the Being
to whom the miracle is ascribed, be, in this case, Almighty, it does
not, upon that account, become a whit more probable; since it is
impossible for us to know the attributes or actions of such a Being,
otherwise than from the experience which we have of his productions, in
the usual course of nature. This still reduces us to past observation,
and obliges us to compare the instances of the violation of truth in the
testimony of men, with those of the violation of the laws of nature by
miracles, in order to judge which of them is most likely and probable.
As the violations of truth are more common in the testimony concerning
religious miracles, than in that concerning any other matter of fact;
this must diminish very much the authority of the former testimony, and
make us form a general resolution, never to lend any attention to it,
with whatever specious pretence it may be covered.
Lord Bacon seems to have embraced the same principles of reasoning.
'We ought,' says he, 'to make a collection or particular history of all
monsters and prodigious births or productions, and in a word of every
thing new, rare, and extraordinary in nature. But this must be done with
the most severe scrutiny, lest we depart from truth. Above all, every
relation must be considered as suspicious, which depends in any degree
upon religion, as the prodigies of Livy: And no less so, every thing
that is to be found in the writers of natural magic or alchimy, or such
authors, who seem, all of them, to have an unconquerable appetite for
falsehood and fable26.'
100. I am the better pleased with the method of reasoning here
delivered, as I think it may serve to confound those dangerous friends
or disguised enemies to the Christian Religion, who have undertaken to
defend it by the principles of human reason. Our most holy religion is
founded on Faith, not on reason; and it is a sure method of exposing it
to put it to such a trial as it is, by no means, fitted to endure. To
make this more evident, let us examine those miracles, related in
scripture; and not to lose ourselves in too wide a field, let us confine
ourselves to such as we find in the Pentateuch, which we shall examine,
according to the principles of these pretended Christians, not as the
word or testimony of God himself, but as the production of a mere human
writer and historian. Here then we are first to consider a book,
presented to us by a barbarous and ignorant people, written in an age
when they were still more barbarous, and in all probability long after
the facts which it relates, corroborated by no concurring testimony, and
resembling those fabulous accounts, which every nation gives of its
origin. Upon reading this book, we find it full of prodigies and
miracles. It gives an account of a state of the world and of human
nature entirely different from the present: Of our fall from that state:
Of the age of man, extended to near a thousand years: Of the destruction
of the world by a deluge: Of the arbitrary choice of one people, as the
favourites of heaven; and that people the countrymen of the author: Of
their deliverance from bondage by prodigies the most astonishing
imaginable: I desire any one to lay his hand upon his heart, and after a
serious consideration declare, whether he thinks that the falsehood of
such a book, supported by such a testimony, would be more extraordinary
and miraculous than all the miracles it relates; which is, however,
necessary to make it be received, according to the measures of
probability above established.
101. What we have said of miracles may be applied, without any
variation, to prophecies; and indeed, all prophecies are real miracles,
and as such only, can be admitted as proofs of any revelation. If it did
not exceed the capacity of human nature to foretell future events, it
would be absurd to employ any prophecy as an argument for a divine
mission or authority from heaven. So that, upon the whole, we may
conclude, that the Christian Religion not only was at first attended
with miracles, but even at this day cannot be believed by any reasonable
person without one. Mere reason is insufficient to convince us of its
veracity: And whoever is moved by Faith to assent to it, is conscious of
a continued miracle in his own person, which subverts all the principles
of his understanding, and gives him a determination to believe what is
most contrary to custom and experience.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
SECTION XI.
OF A PARTICULAR PROVIDENCE AND OF A FUTURE STATE.
102. I was lately engaged in conversation with a friend who loves
sceptical paradoxes; where, though he advanced many principles, of which
I can by no means approve, yet as they seem to be curious, and to bear
some relation to the chain of reasoning carried on throughout this
enquiry, I shall here copy them from my memory as accurately as I can,
in order to submit them to the judgement of the reader.
Our conversation began with my admiring the singular good fortune of
philosophy, which, as it requires entire liberty above all other
privileges, and chiefly flourishes from the free opposition of
sentiments and argumentation, received its first birth in an age and
country of freedom and toleration, and was never cramped, even in its
most extravagant principles, by any creeds, concessions, or penal
statutes. For, except the banishment of Protagoras, and the death of
Socrates, which last event proceeded partly from other motives, there
are scarcely any instances to be met with, in ancient history, of this
bigotted jealousy, with which the present age is so much infested.
Epicurus lived at Athens to an advanced age, in peace and tranquillity:
Epicureans27 were even admitted to receive the sacerdotal character, and
to officiate at the altar, in the most sacred rites of the established
religion: And the public encouragement28 of pensions and salaries was
afforded equally, by the wisest of all the Roman emperors29, to the
professors of every sect of philosophy. How requisite such kind of
treatment was to philosophy, in her early youth, will easily be
conceived, if we reflect, that, even at present, when she may be
supposed more hardy and robust, she bears with much difficulty the
inclemency of the seasons, and those harsh winds of calumny and
persecution, which blow upon her.
You admire, says my friend, as the singular good fortune of
philosophy, what seems to result from the natural course of things, and
to be unavoidable in every age and nation. This pertinacious bigotry, of
which you complain, as so fatal to philosophy, is really her offspring,
who, after allying with superstition, separates himself entirely from
the interest of his parent, and becomes her most inveterate enemy and
persecutor. Speculative dogmas of religion, the present occasions of
such furious dispute, could not possibly be conceived or admitted in the
early ages of the world; when mankind, being wholly illiterate, formed
an idea of religion more suitable to their weak apprehension, and
composed their sacred tenets of such tales chiefly as were the objects
of traditional belief, more than of argument or disputation. After the
first alarm, therefore, was over, which arose from the new paradoxes and
principles of the philosophers; these teachers seem ever after, during
the ages of antiquity, to have lived in great harmony with the
established superstition, and to have made a fair partition of mankind
between them; the former claiming all the learned and wise, the latter
possessing all the vulgar and illiterate.
103. It seems then, say I, that you leave politics entirely out of
the question, and never suppose, that a wise magistrate can justly be
jealous of certain tenets of philosophy, such as those of Epicurus,
which, denying a divine existence, and consequently a providence and a
future state, seem to loosen, in a great measure, the ties of morality,
and may be supposed, for that reason, pernicious to the peace of civil
society.
I know, replied he, that in fact these persecutions never, in any
age, proceeded from calm reason, or from experience of the pernicious
consequences of philosophy; but arose entirely from passion and
prejudice. But what if I should advance farther, and assert, that if
Epicurus had been accused before the people, by any of the sycophants or
informers of those days, he could easily have defended his cause, and
proved his principles of philosophy to be as salutary as those of his
adversaries, who endeavoured, with such zeal, to expose him to the
public hatred and jealousy?
I wish, said I, you would try your eloquence upon so extraordinary a
topic, and make a speech for Epicurus, which might satisfy, not the mob
of Athens, if you will allow that ancient and polite city to have
contained any mob, but the more philosophical part of his audience, such
as might be supposed capable of comprehending his arguments.
The matter would not be difficult, upon such conditions, replied he:
And if you please, I shall suppose myself Epicurus for a moment, and
make you stand for the Athenian people, and shall deliver you such an
harangue as will fill all the urn with white beans, and leave not a
black one to gratify the malice of my adversaries.
Very well: Pray proceed upon these suppositions.
104. I come hither, O ye Athenians, to justify in your assembly what
I maintained in my school, and I find myself impeached by furious
antagonists, instead of reasoning with calm and dispassionate enquirers.
Your deliberations, which of right should be directed to questions of
public good, and the interest of the commonwealth, are diverted to the
disquisitions of speculative philosophy; and these magnificent, but
perhaps fruitless enquiries, take place of your more familiar but more
useful occupations. But so far as in me lies, I will prevent this abuse.
We shall not here dispute concerning the origin and government of
worlds. We shall only enquire how far such questions concern the public
interest. And if I can persuade you, that they are entirely indifferent
to the peace of society and security of government, I hope that you will
presently send us back to our schools, there to examine, at leisure, the
question the most sublime, but at the same time, the most speculative of
all philosophy.
The religious philosophers, not satisfied with the tradition of your
forefathers, and doctrine of your priests (in which I willingly
acquiesce), indulge a rash curiosity, in trying how far they can
establish religion upon the principles of reason; and they thereby
excite, instead of satisfying, the doubts, which naturally arise from a
diligent and scrutinous enquiry. They paint, in the most magnificent
colours, the order, beauty, and wise arrangement of the universe; and
then ask, if such a glorious display of intelligence could proceed from
the fortuitous concourse of atoms, or if chance could produce what the
greatest genius can never sufficiently admire. I shall not examine the
justness of this argument. I shall allow it to be as solid as my
antagonists and accusers can desire. It is sufficient, if I can prove,
from this very reasoning, that the question is entirely speculative, and
that, when, in my philosophical disquisitions, I deny a providence and a
future state, I undermine not the foundations of society, but advance
principles, which they themselves, upon their own topics, if they argue
consistently, must allow to be solid and satisfactory.
105. You then, who are my accusers, have acknowledged, that the chief
or sole argument for a divine existence (which I never questioned) is
derived from the order of nature; where there appear such marks of
intelligence and design, that you think it extravagant to assign for its
cause, either chance, or the blind and unguided force of matter. You
allow, that this is an argument drawn from effects to causes. From the
order of the work, you infer, that there must have been project and
forethought in the workman. If you cannot make out this point, you
allow, that your conclusion fails; and you pretend not to establish the
conclusion in a greater latitude than the phenomena of nature will
justify. These are your concessions. I desire you to mark the
consequences.
When we infer any particular cause from an effect, we must proportion
the one to the other, and can never be allowed to ascribe to the cause
any qualities, but what are exactly sufficient to produce the effect. A
body of ten ounces raised in any scale may serve as a proof, that the
counterbalancing weight exceeds ten ounces; but can never afford a
reason that it exceeds a hundred. If the cause, assigned for any effect,
be not sufficient to produce it, we must either reject that cause, or
add to it such qualities as will give it a just proportion to the
effect. But if we ascribe to it farther qualities, or affirm it capable
of producing other effects, we can only indulge the licence of
conjecture, and arbitrarily suppose the existence of qualities and
energies, without reason or authority.
The same rule holds, whether the cause assigned be brute unconscious
matter, or a rational intelligent being. If the cause be known only by
the effect, we never ought to ascribe to it any qualities, beyond what
are precisely requisite to produce the effect: Nor can we, by any rules
of just reasoning, return back from the cause, and infer other effects
from it, beyond those by which alone it is known to us. No one, merely
from the sight of one of Zeuxis's pictures, could know, that he was also
a statuary or architect, and was an artist no less skilful in stone and
marble than in colours. The talents and taste, displayed in the
particular work before us; these we may safely conclude the workman to
be possessed of. The cause must be proportioned to the effect; and if we
exactly and precisely proportion it, we shall never find in it any
qualities, that point farther, or afford an inference concerning any
other design or performance. Such qualities must be somewhat beyond what
is merely requisite for producing the effect, which we examine.
106. Allowing, therefore, the gods to be the authors of the existence
or order of the universe; it follows, that they possess that precise
degree of power, intelligence, and benevolence, which appears in their
workmanship; but nothing farther can ever be proved, except we call in
the assistance of exaggeration and flattery to supply the defects of
argument and reasoning. So far as the traces of any attributes, at
present, appear, so far may we conclude these attributes to exist. The
supposition of farther attributes is mere hypothesis; much more the
supposition, that, in distant regions of space or periods of time, there
has been, or will be, a more magnificent display of these attributes,
and a scheme of administration more suitable to such imaginary virtues.
We can never be allowed to mount up from the universe, the effect, to
Jupiter, the cause; and then descend downwards, to infer any new effect
from that cause; as if the present effects alone were not entirely
worthy of the glorious attributes, which we ascribe to that deity. The
knowledge of the cause being derived solely from the effect, they must
be exactly adjusted to each other; and the one can never refer to
anything farther, or be the foundation of any new inference and
conclusion.
You find certain phenomena in nature. You seek a cause or author. You
imagine that you have found him. You afterwards become so enamoured of
this offspring of your brain, that you imagine it impossible, but he
must produce something greater and more perfect than the present scene
of things, which is so full of ill and disorder. You forget, that this
superlative intelligence and benevolence are entirely imaginary, or, at
least, without any foundation in reason; and that you have no ground to
ascribe to him any qualities, but what you see he has actually exerted
and displayed in his productions. Let your gods, therefore, O
philosophers, be suited to the present appearances of nature: and
presume not to alter these appearances by arbitrary suppositions, in
order to suit them to the attributes, which you so fondly ascribe to
your deities.
107. When priests and poets, supported by your authority, O
Athenians, talk of a golden or silver age, which preceded the present
state of vice and misery, I hear them with attention and with reverence.
But when philosophers, who pretend to neglect authority, and to
cultivate reason, hold the same discourse, I pay them not, I own, the
same obsequious submission and pious deference. I ask; who carried them
into the celestial regions, who admitted them into the councils of the
gods, who opened to them the book of fate, that they thus rashly affirm,
that their deities have executed, or will execute, any purpose beyond
what has actually appeared? If they tell me, that they have mounted on
the steps or by the gradual ascent of reason, and by drawing inferences
from effects to causes, I still insist, that they have aided the ascent
of reason by the wings of imagination; otherwise they could not thus
change their manner of inference, and argue from causes to effects;
presuming, that a more perfect production than the present world would
be more suitable to such perfect beings as the gods, and forgetting that
they have no reason to ascribe to these celestial beings any perfection
or any attribute, but what can be found in the present world.
Hence all the fruitless industry to account for the ill appearances
of nature, and save the honour of the gods; while we must acknowledge
the reality of that evil and disorder, with which the world so much
abounds. The obstinate and intractable qualities of matter, we are told,
or the observance of general laws, or some such reason, is the sole
cause, which controlled the power and benevolence of Jupiter, and
obliged him to create mankind and every sensible creature so imperfect
and so unhappy. These attributes then, are, it seems, beforehand, taken
for granted, in their greatest latitude. And upon that supposition, I
own that such conjectures may, perhaps, be admitted as plausible
solutions of the ill phenomena. But still I ask; Why take these
attributes for granted, or why ascribe to the cause any qualities but
what actually appear in the effect? Why torture your brain to justify
the course of nature upon suppositions, which, for aught you know, may
be entirely imaginary, and of which there are to be found no traces in
the course of nature?
The religious hypothesis, therefore, must be considered only as a
particular method of accounting for the visible phenomena of the
universe: but no just reasoner will ever presume to infer from it any
single fact, and alter or add to the phenomena, in any single
particular. If you think, that the appearances of things prove such
causes, it is allowable for you to draw an inference concerning the
existence of these causes. In such complicated and sublime subjects,
every one should be indulged in the liberty of conjecture and argument.
But here you ought to rest. If you come backward, and arguing from your
inferred causes, conclude, that any other fact has existed, or will
exist, in the course of nature, which may serve as a fuller display of
particular attributes; I must admonish you, that you have departed from
the method of reasoning, attached to the present subject, and have
certainly added something to the attributes of the cause, beyond what
appears in the effect; otherwise you could never, with tolerable sense
or propriety, add anything to the effect, in order to render it more
worthy of the cause.
108. Where, then, is the odiousness of that doctrine, which I teach
in my school, or rather, which I examine in my gardens? Or what do you
find in this whole question, wherein the security of good morals, or the
peace and order of society, is in the least concerned?
I deny a providence, you say, and supreme governor of the world, who
guides the course of events, and punishes the vicious with infamy and
disappointment, and rewards the virtuous with honour and success, in all
their undertakings. But surely, I deny not the course itself of events,
which lies open to every one's inquiry and examination. I acknowledge,
that, in the present order of things, virtue is attended with more peace
of mind than vice, and meets with a more favourable reception from the
world. I am sensible, that, according to the past experience of mankind,
friendship is the chief joy of human life, and moderation the only
source of tranquillity and happiness. I never balance between the
virtuous and the vicious course of life; but am sensible, that, to a
well-disposed mind, every advantage is on the side of the former. And
what can you say more, allowing all your suppositions and reasonings?
You tell me, indeed, that this disposition of things proceeds from
intelligence and design. But whatever it proceeds from, the disposition
itself, on which depends our happiness or misery, and consequently our
conduct and deportment in life is still the same. It is still open for
me, as well as you, to regulate my behaviour, by my experience of past
events. And if you affirm, that, while a divine providence is allowed,
and a supreme distributive justice in the universe, I ought to expect
some more particular reward of the good, and punishment of the bad,
beyond the ordinary course of events; I here find the same fallacy,
which I have before endeavoured to detect. You persist in imagining,
that, if we grant that divine existence, for which you so earnestly
contend, you may safely infer consequences from it, and add something to
the experienced order of nature, by arguing from the attributes which
you ascribe to your gods. You seem not to remember, that all your
reasonings on this subject can only be drawn from effects to causes; and
that every argument, deducted from causes to effects, must of necessity
be a gross sophism; since it is impossible for you to know anything of
the cause, but what you have antecedently, not inferred, but discovered
to the full, in the effect.
109. But what must a philosopher think of those vain reasoners, who,
instead of regarding the present scene of things as the sole object of
their contemplation, so far reverse the whole course of nature, as to
render this life merely a passage to something farther; a porch, which
leads to a greater, and vastly different building; a prologue, which
serves only to introduce the piece, and give it more grace and
propriety? Whence, do you think, can such philosophers derive their idea
of the gods? From their own conceit and imagination surely. For if they
derived it from the present phenomena, it would never point to anything
farther, but must be exactly adjusted to them. That the divinity may
possibly be endowed with attributes, which we have never seen exerted;
may be governed by principles of action, which we cannot discover to be
satisfied: all this will freely be allowed. But still this is mere
possibility and hypothesis. We never can have reason to infer any
attributes, or any principles of action in him, but so far as we know
them to have been exerted and satisfied.
Are there any marks of a distributive justice in the world? If you
answer in the affirmative, I conclude, that, since justice here exerts
itself, it is satisfied. If you reply in the negative, I conclude, that
you have then no reason to ascribe justice, in our sense of it, to the
gods. If you hold a medium between affirmation and negation, by saying,
that the justice of the gods, at present, exerts itself in part, but not
in its full extent; I answer, that you have no reason to give it any
particular extent, but only so far as you see it, at present, exert
itself.
110. Thus I bring the dispute, O Athenians, to a short issue with my
antagonists. The course of nature lies open to my contemplation as well
as to theirs. The experienced train of events is the great standard, by
which we all regulate our conduct. Nothing else can be appealed to in
the field, or in the senate. Nothing else ought ever to be heard of in
the school, or in the closet. In vain would our limited understanding
break through those boundaries, which are too narrow for our fond
imagination. While we argue from the course of nature, and infer a
particular intelligent cause, which first bestowed, and still preserves
order in the universe, we embrace a principle, which is both uncertain
and useless. It is uncertain; because the subject lies entirely beyond
the reach of human experience. It is useless; because our knowledge of
this cause being derived entirely from the course of nature, we can
never, according to the rules of just reasoning, return back from the
cause with any new inference, or making additions to the common and
experienced course of nature, establish any new principles of conduct
and behaviour.
111. I observe (said I, finding he had finished his harangue) that
you neglect not the artifice of the demagogues of old; and as you were
pleased to make me stand for the people, you insinuate yourself into my
favour by embracing those principles, to which, you know, I have always
expressed a particular attachment. But allowing you to make experience
(as indeed I think you ought) the only standard of our judgement
concerning this, and all other questions of fact; I doubt not but, from
the very same experience, to which you appeal, it may be possible to
refute this reasoning, which you have put into the mouth of Epicurus. If
you saw, for instance, a half-finished building, surrounded with heaps
of brick and stone and mortar, and all the instruments of masonry; could
you not infer from the effect, that it was a work of design and
contrivance? And could you not return again, from this inferred cause,
to infer new additions to the effect, and conclude, that the building
would soon be finished, and receive all the further improvements, which
art could bestow upon it? If you saw upon the sea-shore the print of one
human foot, you would conclude, that a man had passed that way, and that
he had also left the traces of the other foot, though effaced by the
rolling of the sands or inundation of the waters. Why then do you refuse
to admit the same method of reasoning with regard to the order of
nature? Consider the world and the present life only as an imperfect
building, from which you can infer a superior intelligence; and arguing
from that superior intelligence, which can leave nothing imperfect; why
may you not infer a more finished scheme or plan, which will receive its
completion in some distant point of space or time? Are not these methods
of reasoning exactly similar? And under what pretence can you embrace
the one, while you reject the other?
112. The infinite difference of the subjects, replied he, is a
sufficient foundation for this difference in my conclusions. In works of
human art and contrivance, it is allowable to advance from the effect to
the cause, and returning back from the cause, to form new inferences
concerning the effect, and examine the alterations, which it has
probably undergone, or may still undergo. But what is the foundation of
this method of reasoning? Plainly this; that man is a being, whom we
know by experience, whose motives and designs we are acquainted with,
and whose projects and inclinations have a certain connexion and
coherence, according to the laws which nature has established for the
government of such a creature. When, therefore, we find, that any work
has proceeded from the skill and industry of man; as we are otherwise
acquainted with the nature of the animal, we can draw a hundred
inferences concerning what may be expected from him; and these
inferences will all be founded in experience and observation. But did we
know man only from the single work or production which we examine, it
were impossible for us to argue in this manner; because our knowledge of
all the qualities, which we ascribe to him, being in that case derived
from the production, it is impossible they could point to anything
farther, or be the foundation of any new inference. The print of a foot
in the sand can only prove, when considered alone, that there was some
figure adapted to it, by which it was produced: but the print of a human
foot proves likewise, from our other experience, that there was probably
another foot, which also left its impression, though effaced by time or
other accidents. Here we mount from the effect to the cause; and
descending again from the cause, infer alterations in the effect; but
this is not a continuation of the same simple chain of reasoning. We
comprehend in this case a hundred other experiences and observations,
concerning the usual figure and members of that species of animal,
without which this method of argument must be considered as fallacious
and sophistical.
113. The case is not the same with our reasonings from the works of
nature. The Deity is known to us only by his productions, and is a
single being in the universe, not comprehended under any species or
genus, from whose experienced attributes or qualities, we can, by
analogy, infer any attribute or quality in him. As the universe shews
wisdom and goodness, we infer wisdom and goodness. As it shews a
particular degree of these perfections, we infer a particular degree of
them, precisely adapted to the effect which we examine. But farther
attributes or farther degrees of the same attributes, we can never be
authorised to infer or suppose, by any rules of just reasoning. Now,
without some such licence of supposition, it is impossible for us to
argue from the cause, or infer any alteration in the effect, beyond what
has immediately fallen under our observation. Greater good produced by
this Being must still prove a greater degree of goodness: a more
impartial distribution of rewards and punishments must proceed from a
greater regard to justice and equity. Every supposed addition to the
works of nature makes an addition to the attributes of the Author of
nature; and consequently, being entirely unsupported by any reason or
argument, can never be admitted but as mere conjecture and hypothesis30.
The great source of our mistake in this subject, and of the unbounded
licence of conjecture, which we indulge, is, that we tacitly consider
ourselves, as in the place of the Supreme Being, and conclude, that he
will, on every occasion, observe the same conduct, which we ourselves,
in his situation, would have embraced as reasonable and eligible. But,
besides that the ordinary course of nature may convince us, that almost
everything is regulated by principles and maxims very different from
ours; besides this, I say, it must evidently appear contrary to all
rules of analogy to reason, from the intentions and projects of men, to
those of a Being so different, and so much superior. In human nature,
there is a certain experienced coherence of designs and inclinations; so
that when, from any fact, we have discovered one intention of any man,
it may often be reasonable, from experience, to infer another, and draw
a long chain of conclusions concerning his past or future conduct. But
this method of reasoning can never have place with regard to a Being, so
remote and incomprehensible, who bears much less analogy to any other
being in the universe than the sun to a waxen taper, and who discovers
himself only by some faint traces or outlines, beyond which we have no
authority to ascribe to him any attribute or perfection. What we imagine
to be a superior perfection, may really be a defect. Or were it ever so
much a perfection, the ascribing of it to the Supreme Being, where it
appears not to have been really exerted, to the full, in his works,
savours more of flattery and panegyric, than of just reasoning and sound
philosophy. All the philosophy, therefore, in the world, and all the
religion, which is nothing but a species of philosophy, will never be
able to carry us beyond the usual course of experience, or give us
measures of conduct and behaviour different from those which are
furnished by reflections on common life. No new fact can ever be
inferred from the religious hypothesis; no event foreseen or foretold;
no reward or punishment expected or dreaded, beyond what is already
known by practice and observation. So that my apology for Epicurus will
still appear solid and satisfactory; nor have the political interests of
society any connexion with the philosophical disputes concerning
metaphysics and religion.
114. There is still one circumstance, replied I, which you seem to
have overlooked. Though I should allow your premises, I must deny your
conclusion. You conclude, that religious doctrines and reasonings can
have no influence on life, because they ought to have no influence;
never considering, that men reason not in the same manner you do, but
draw many consequences from the belief of a divine Existence, and
suppose that the Deity will inflict punishments on vice, and bestow
rewards on virtue, beyond what appear in the ordinary course of nature.
Whether this reasoning of theirs be just or not, is no matter. Its
influence on their life and conduct must still be the same. And, those,
who attempt to disabuse them of such prejudices, may, for aught I know,
be good reasoners, but I cannot allow them to be good citizens and
politicians; since they free men from one restraint upon their passions,
and make the infringement of the laws of society, in one respect, more
easy and secure.
After all, I may, perhaps, agree to your general conclusion in favour
of liberty, though upon different premises from those, on which you
endeavour to found it. I think, that the state ought to tolerate every
principle of philosophy; nor is there an instance, that any government
has suffered in its political interests by such indulgence. There is no
enthusiasm among philosophers; their doctrines are not very alluring to
the people; and no restraint can be put upon their reasonings, but what
must be of dangerous consequence to the sciences, and even to the state,
by paving the way for persecution and oppression in points, where the
generality of mankind are more deeply interested and concerned.
115. But there occurs to me (continued I) with regard to your main
topic, a difficulty, which I shall just propose to you without insisting
on it; lest it lead into reasonings of too nice and delicate a nature.
In a word, I much doubt whether it be possible for a cause to be known
only by its effect (as you have all along supposed) or to be of so
singular and particular a nature as to have no parallel and no
similarity with any other cause or object, that has ever fallen under
our observation. It is only when two species of objects are found to be
constantly conjoined, that we can infer the one from the other; and were
an effect presented, which was entirely singular, and could not be
comprehended under any known species, I do not see, that we could form
any conjecture or inference at all concerning its cause. If experience
and observation and analogy be, indeed, the only guides which we can
reasonably follow in inferences of this nature; both the effect and
cause must bear a similarity and resemblance to other effects and
causes, which we know, and which we have found, in many instances, to be
conjoined with each other. I leave it to your own reflection to pursue
the consequences of this principle. I shall just observe, that, as the
antagonists of Epicurus always suppose the universe, an effect quite
singular and unparalleled, to be the proof of a Deity, a cause no less
singular and unparalleled; your reasonings, upon that supposition, seem,
at least, to merit our attention. There is, I own, some difficulty, how
we can ever return from the cause to the effect, and, reasoning from our
ideas of the former, infer any alteration on the latter, or any addition
to it.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
SECTION XII.
OF THE ACADEMICAL OR SCEPTICAL PHILOSOPHY.
PART I.
116. There is not a greater number of philosophical reasonings,
displayed upon any subject, than those, which prove the existence of a
Deity, and refute the fallacies of Atheists; and yet the most religious
philosophers still dispute whether any man can be so blinded as to be a
speculative atheist. How shall we reconcile these contradictions? The
knights-errant, who wandered about to clear the world of dragons and
giants, never entertained the least doubt with regard to the existence
of these monsters.
The Sceptic is another enemy of religion, who naturally provokes the
indignation of all divines and graver philosophers; though it is
certain, that no man ever met with any such absurd creature, or
conversed with a man, who had no opinion or principle concerning any
subject, either of action or speculation. This begets a very natural
question; What is meant by a sceptic? And how far it is possible to push
these philosophical principles of doubt and uncertainty?
There is a species of scepticism, antecedent to all study and
philosophy, which is much inculcated by Des Cartes and others, as a
sovereign preservative against error and precipitate judgement. It
recommends an universal doubt, not only of all our former opinions and
principles, but also of our very faculties; of whose veracity, say they,
we must assure ourselves, by a chain of reasoning, deduced from some
original principle, which cannot possibly be fallacious or deceitful.
But neither is there any such original principle, which has a
prerogative above others, that are self-evident and convincing: or if
there were, could we advance a step beyond it, but by the use of those
very faculties, of which we are supposed to be already diffident. The
Cartesian doubt, therefore, were it ever possible to be attained by any
human creature (as it plainly is not) would be entirely incurable; and
no reasoning could ever bring us to a state of assurance and conviction
upon any subject.
It must, however, be confessed, that this species of scepticism, when
more moderate, may be understood in a very reasonable sense, and is a
necessary preparative to the study of philosophy, by preserving a proper
impartiality in our judgements, and weaning our mind from all those
prejudices, which we may have imbibed from education or rash opinion. To
begin with clear and self-evident principles, to advance by timorous and
sure steps, to review frequently our conclusions, and examine accurately
all their consequences; though by these means we shall make both a slow
and a short progress in our systems; are the only methods, by which we
can ever hope to reach truth, and attain a proper stability and
certainty in our determinations.
117. There is another species of scepticism, consequent to science
and enquiry, when men are supposed to have discovered, either the
absolute fallaciousness of their mental faculties, or their unfitness to
reach any fixed determination in all those curious subjects of
speculation, about which they are commonly employed. Even our very
senses are brought into dispute, by a certain species of philosophers;
and the maxims of common life are subjected to the same doubt as the
most profound principles or conclusions of metaphysics and theology. As
these paradoxical tenets (if they may be called tenets) are to be met
with in some philosophers, and the refutation of them in several, they
naturally excite our curiosity, and make us enquire into the arguments,
on which they may be founded.
I need not insist upon the more trite topics, employed by the
sceptics in all ages, against the evidence of sense; such as those which
are derived from the imperfection and fallaciousness of our organs, on
numberless occasions; the crooked appearance of an oar in water; the
various aspects of objects, according to their different distances; the
double images which arise from the pressing one eye; with many other
appearances of a like nature. These sceptical topics, indeed, are only
sufficient to prove, that the senses alone are not implicitly to be
depended on; but that we must correct their evidence by reason, and by
considerations, derived from the nature of the medium, the distance of
the object, and the disposition of the organ, in order to render them,
within their sphere, the proper criteria of truth and falsehood. There
are other more profound arguments against the senses, which admit not of
so easy a solution.
118. It seems evident, that men are carried, by a natural instinct or
prepossession, to repose faith in their senses; and that, without any
reasoning, or even almost before the use of reason, we always suppose an
external universe, which depends not on our perception, but would exist,
though we and every sensible creature were absent or annihilated. Even
the animal creation are governed by a like opinion, and preserve this
belief of external objects, in all their thoughts, designs, and actions.
It seems also evident, that, when men follow this blind and powerful
instinct of nature, they always suppose the very images, presented by
the senses, to be the external objects, and never entertain any
suspicion, that the one are nothing but representations of the other.
This very table, which we see white, and which we feel hard, is believed
to exist, independent of our perception, and to be something external to
our mind, which perceives it. Our presence bestows not being on it: our
absence does not annihilate it. It preserves its existence uniform and
entire, independent of the situation of intelligent beings, who perceive
or contemplate it.
But this universal and primary opinion of all men is soon destroyed
by the slightest philosophy, which teaches us, that nothing can ever be
present to the mind but an image or perception, and that the senses are
only the inlets, through which these images are conveyed, without being
able to produce any immediate intercourse between the mind and the
object. The table, which we see, seems to diminish, as we remove farther
from it: but the real table, which exists independent of us, suffers no
alteration: it was, therefore, nothing but its image, which was present
to the mind. These are the obvious dictates of reason; and no man, who
reflects, ever doubted, that the existences, which we consider, when we
say, this house and that tree, are nothing but perceptions in the mind,
and fleeting copies or representations of other existences, which remain
uniform and independent.
119. So far, then, are we necessitated by reasoning to contradict or
depart from the primary instincts of nature, and to embrace a new system
with regard to the evidence of our senses. But here philosophy finds
herself extremely embarrassed, when she would justify this new system,
and obviate the cavils and objections of the sceptics. She can no longer
plead the infallible and irresistible instinct of nature: for that led
us to a quite different system, which is acknowledged fallible and even
erroneous. And to justify this pretended philosophical system, by a
chain of clear and convincing argument, or even any appearance of
argument, exceeds the power of all human capacity.
By what argument can it be proved, that the perceptions of the mind
must be caused by external objects, entirely different from them, though
resembling them (if that be possible) and could not arise either from
the energy of the mind itself, or from the suggestion of some invisible
and unknown spirit, or from some other cause still more unknown to us?
It is acknowledged, that, in fact, many of these perceptions arise not
from anything external, as in dreams, madness, and other diseases. And
nothing can be more inexplicable than the manner, in which body should
so operate upon mind as ever to convey an image of itself to a
substance, supposed of so different, and even contrary a nature.
It is a question of fact, whether the perceptions of the senses be
produced by external objects, resembling them: how shall this question
be determined? By experience surely; as all other questions of a like
nature. But here experience is, and must be entirely silent. The mind
has never anything present to it but the perceptions, and cannot
possibly reach any experience of their connexion with objects. The
supposition of such a connexion is, therefore, without any foundation in
reasoning.
120. To have recourse to the veracity of the supreme Being, in order
to prove the veracity of our senses, is surely making a very unexpected
circuit. If his veracity were at all concerned in this matter, our
senses would be entirely infallible; because it is not possible that he
can ever deceive. Not to mention, that, if the external world be once
called in question, we shall be at a loss to find arguments, by which we
may prove the existence of that Being or any of his attributes.
121. This is a topic, therefore, in which the profounder and more
philosophical sceptics will always triumph, when they endeavour to
introduce an universal doubt into all subjects of human knowledge and
enquiry. Do you follow the instincts and propensities of nature, may
they say, in assenting to the veracity of sense? But these lead you to
believe that the very perception or sensible image is the external
object. Do you disclaim this principle, in order to embrace a more
rational opinion, that the perceptions are only representations of
something external? You here depart from your natural propensities and
more obvious sentiments; and yet are not able to satisfy your reason,
which can never find any convincing argument from experience to prove,
that the perceptions are connected with any external objects.
122. There is another sceptical topic of a like nature, derived from
the most profound philosophy; which might merit our attention, were it
requisite to dive so deep, in order to discover arguments and
reasonings, which can so little serve to any serious purpose. It is
universally allowed by modern enquirers, that all the sensible qualities
of objects, such as hard, soft, hot, cold, white, black, &c. are merely
secondary, and exist not in the objects themselves, but are perceptions
of the mind, without any external archetype or model, which they
represent. If this be allowed, with regard to secondary qualities, it
must also follow, with regard to the supposed primary qualities of
extension and solidity; nor can the latter be any more entitled to that
denomination than the former. The idea of extension is entirely acquired
from the senses of sight and feeling; and if all the qualities,
perceived by the senses, be in the mind, not in the object, the same
conclusion must reach the idea of extension, which is wholly dependent
on the sensible ideas or the ideas of secondary qualities. Nothing can
save us from this conclusion, but the asserting, that the ideas of those
primary qualities are attained by Abstraction, an opinion, which, if we
examine it accurately, we shall find to be unintelligible, and even
absurd. An extension, that is neither tangible nor visible, cannot
possibly be conceived: and a tangible or visible extension, which is
neither hard nor soft, black nor white, is equally beyond the reach of
human conception. Let any man try to conceive a triangle in general,
which is neither Isosceles nor Scalenum, nor has any particular length
or proportion of sides; and he will soon perceive the absurdity of all
the scholastic notions with regard to abstraction and general ideas.31
123. Thus the first philosophical objection to the evidence of sense
or to the opinion of external existence consists in this, that such an
opinion, if rested on natural instinct, is contrary to reason, and if
referred to reason, is contrary to natural instinct, and at the same
time carries no rational evidence with it, to convince an impartial
enquirer. The second objection goes farther, and represents this opinion
as contrary to reason: at least, if it be a principle of reason, that
all sensible qualities are in the mind, not in the object. Bereave
matter of all its intelligible qualities, both primary and secondary,
you in a manner annihilate it, and leave only a certain unknown,
inexplicable something, as the cause of our perceptions; a notion so
imperfect, that no sceptic will think it worth while to contend against
it.
PART II.
124. It may seem a very extravagant attempt of the sceptics to destroy
reason by argument and ratiocination; yet is this the grand scope of all
their enquiries and disputes. They endeavour to find objections, both to
our abstract reasonings, and to those which regard matter of fact and
existence.
The chief objection against all abstract reasonings is derived from
the ideas of space and time; ideas, which, in common life and to a
careless view, are very clear and intelligible, but when they pass
through the scrutiny of the profound sciences (and they are the chief
object of these sciences) afford principles, which seem full of
absurdity and contradiction. No priestly dogmas, invented on purpose to
tame and subdue the rebellious reason of mankind, ever shocked common
sense more than the doctrine of the infinitive divisibility of
extension, with its consequences; as they are pompously displayed by all
geometricians and metaphysicians, with a kind of triumph and exultation.
A real quantity, infinitely less than any finite quantity, containing
quantities infinitely less than itself, and so on in infinitum; this is
an edifice so bold and prodigious, that it is too weighty for any
pretended demonstration to support, because it shocks the clearest and
most natural principles of human reason.32 But what renders the matter
more extraordinary, is, that these seemingly absurd opinions are
supported by a chain of reasoning, the clearest and most natural; nor is
it possible for us to allow the premises without admitting the
consequences. Nothing can be more convincing and satisfactory than all
the conclusions concerning the properties of circles and triangles; and
yet, when these are once received, how can we deny, that the angle of
contact between a circle and its tangent is infinitely less than any
rectilineal angle, that as you may increase the diameter of the circle
in infinitum, this angle of contact becomes still less, even in
infinitum, and that the angle of contact between other curves and their
tangents may be infinitely less than those between any circle and its
tangent, and so on, in infinitum? The demonstration of these principles
seems as unexceptionable as that which proves the three angles of a
triangle to be equal to two right ones, though the latter opinion be
natural and easy, and the former big with contradiction and absurdity.
Reason here seems to be thrown into a kind of amazement and suspence,
which, without the suggestions of any sceptic, gives her a diffidence of
herself, and of the ground on which she treads. She sees a full light,
which illuminates certain places; but that light borders upon the most
profound darkness. And between these she is so dazzled and confounded,
that she scarcely can pronounce with certainty and assurance concerning
any one object.
125. The absurdity of these bold determinations of the abstract
sciences seems to become, if possible, still more palpable with regard
to time than extension. An infinite number of real parts of time,
passing in succession, and exhausted one after another, appears so
evident a contradiction, that no man, one should think, whose judgement
is not corrupted, instead of being improved, by the sciences, would ever
be able to admit of it.
Yet still reason must remain restless, and unquiet, even with regard
to that scepticism, to which she is driven by these seeming absurdities
and contradictions. How any clear, distinct idea can contain
circumstances, contradictory to itself, or to any other clear, distinct
idea, is absolutely incomprehensible; and is, perhaps, as absurd as any
proposition, which can be formed. So that nothing can be more sceptical,
or more full of doubt and hesitation, than this scepticism itself, which
arises from some of the paradoxical conclusions of geometry or the
science of quantity.33
126. The sceptical objections to moral evidence, or to the reasonings
concerning matter of fact, are either popular or philosophical. The
popular objections are derived from the natural weakness of human
understanding; the contradictory opinions, which have been entertained
in different ages and nations; the variations of our judgement in
sickness and health, youth and old age, prosperity and adversity; the
perpetual contradiction of each particular man's opinions and
sentiments; with many other topics of that kind. It is needless to
insist farther on this head. These objections are but weak. For as, in
common life, we reason every moment concerning fact and existence, and
cannot possibly subsist, without continually employing this species of
argument, any popular objections, derived from thence, must be
insufficient to destroy that evidence. The great subverter of Pyrrhonism
or the excessive principles of scepticism is action, and employment, and
the occupations of common life. These principles may flourish and
triumph in the schools; where it is, indeed, difficult, if not
impossible, to refute them. But as soon as they leave the shade, and by
the presence of the real objects, which actuate our passions and
sentiments, are put in opposition to the more powerful principles of our
nature, they vanish like smoke, and leave the most determined sceptic in
the same condition as other mortals.
127. The sceptic, therefore, had better keep within his proper
sphere, and display those philosophical objections, which arise from
more profound researches. Here he seems to have ample matter of triumph;
while he justly insists, that all our evidence for any matter of fact,
which lies beyond the testimony of sense or memory, is derived entirely
from the relation of cause and effect; that we have no other idea of
this relation than that of two objects, which have been frequently
conjoined together; that we have no argument to convince us, that
objects, which have, in our experience, been frequently conjoined, will
likewise, in other instances, be conjoined in the same manner; and that
nothing leads us to this inference but custom or a certain instinct of
our nature; which it is indeed difficult to resist, but which, like
other instincts, may be fallacious and deceitful. While the sceptic
insists upon these topics, he shows his force, or rather, indeed, his
own and our weakness; and seems, for the time at least, to destroy all
assurance and conviction. These arguments might be displayed at greater
length, if any durable good or benefit to society could ever be expected
to result from them.
128. For here is the chief and most confounding objection to
excessive scepticism, that no durable good can ever result from it;
while it remains in its full force and vigour. We need only ask such a
sceptic, What his meaning is? And what he proposes by all these curious
researches? He is immediately at a loss, and knows not what to answer. A
Copernican or Ptolemaic, who supports each his different system of
astronomy, may hope to produce a conviction, which will remain constant
and durable, with his audience. A Stoic or Epicurean displays
principles, which may not be durable, but which have an effect on
conduct and behaviour. But a Pyrrhonian cannot expect, that his
philosophy will have any constant influence on the mind: or if it had,
that its influence would be beneficial to society. On the contrary, he
must acknowledge, if he will acknowledge anything, that all human life
must perish, were his principles universally and steadily to prevail.
All discourse, all action would immediately cease; and men remain in a
total lethargy, till the necessities of nature, unsatisfied, put an end
to their miserable existence. It is true; so fatal an event is very
little to be dreaded. Nature is always too strong for principle. And
though a Pyrrhonian may throw himself or others into a momentary
amazement and confusion by his profound reasonings; the first and most
trivial event in life will put to flight all his doubts and scruples,
and leave him the same, in every point of action and speculation, with
the philosophers of every other sect, or with those who never concerned
themselves in any philosophical researches. When he awakes from his
dream, he will be the first to join in the laugh against himself, and to
confess, that all his objections are mere amusement, and can have no
other tendency than to show the whimsical condition of mankind, who must
act and reason and believe; though they are not able, by their most
diligent enquiry, to satisfy themselves concerning the foundation of
these operations, or to remove the objections, which may be raised
against them.
PART III.
129. There is, indeed, a more mitigated scepticism or academical
philosophy, which may be both durable and useful, and which may, in
part, be the result of this Pyrrhonism, or excessive scepticism, when
its undistinguished doubts are, in some measure, corrected by common
sense and reflection. The greater part of mankind are naturally apt to
be affirmative and dogmatical in their opinions; and while they see
objects only on one side, and have no idea of any counterpoising
argument, they throw themselves precipitately into the principles, to
which they are inclined; nor have they any indulgence for those who
entertain opposite sentiments. To hesitate or balance perplexes their
understanding, checks their passion, and suspends their action. They
are, therefore, impatient till they escape from a state, which to them
is so uneasy: and they think, that they could never remove themselves
far enough from it, by the violence of their affirmations and obstinacy
of their belief. But could such dogmatical reasoners become sensible of
the strange infirmities of human understanding, even in its most perfect
state, and when most accurate and cautious in its determinations; such a
reflection would naturally inspire them with more modesty and reserve,
and diminish their fond opinion of themselves, and their prejudice
against antagonists. The illiterate may reflect on the disposition of
the learned, who, amidst all the advantages of study and reflection, are
commonly still diffident in their determinations: and if any of the
learned be inclined, from their natural temper, to haughtiness and
obstinacy, a small tincture of Pyrrhonism might abate their pride, by
showing them, that the few advantages, which they may have attained over
their fellows, are but inconsiderable, if compared with the universal
perplexity and confusion, which is inherent in human nature. In general,
there is a degree of doubt, and caution, and modesty, which, in all
kinds of scrutiny and decision, ought for ever to accompany a just
reasoner.
130. Another species of mitigated scepticism which may be of
advantage to mankind, and which may be the natural result of the
Pyrrhonian doubts and scruples, is the limitation of our enquiries to
such subjects as are best adapted to the narrow capacity of human
understanding. The imagination of man is naturally sublime, delighted
with whatever is remote and extraordinary, and running, without control,
into the most distant parts of space and time in order to avoid the
objects, which custom has rendered too familiar to it. A correct
Judgement observes a contrary method, and avoiding all distant and high
enquiries, confines itself to common life, and to such subjects as fall
under daily practice and experience; leaving the more sublime topics to
the embellishment of poets and orators, or to the arts of priests and
politicians. To bring us to so salutary a determination, nothing can be
more serviceable, than to be once thoroughly convinced of the force of
the Pyrrhonian doubt, and of the impossibility, that anything, but the
strong power of natural instinct, could free us from it. Those who have
a propensity to philosophy, will still continue their researches;
because they reflect, that, besides the immediate pleasure, attending
such an occupation, philosophical decisions are nothing but the
reflections of common life, methodized and corrected. But they will
never be tempted to go beyond common life, so long as they consider the
imperfection of those faculties which they employ, their narrow reach,
and their inaccurate operations. While we cannot give a satisfactory
reason, why we believe, after a thousand experiments, that a stone will
fall, or fire burn; can we ever satisfy ourselves concerning any
determination, which we may form, with regard to the origin of worlds,
and the situation of nature, from, and to eternity?
This narrow limitation, indeed, of our enquiries, is, in every
respect, so reasonable, that it suffices to make the slightest
examination into the natural powers of the human mind and to compare
them with their objects, in order to recommend it to us. We shall then
find what are the proper subjects of science and enquiry.
131. It seems to me, that the only objects of the abstract science or
of demonstration are quantity and number, and that all attempts to
extend this more perfect species of knowledge beyond these bounds are
mere sophistry and illusion. As the component parts of quantity and
number are entirely similar, their relations become intricate and
involved; and nothing can be more curious, as well as useful, than to
trace, by a variety of mediums, their equality or inequality, through
their different appearances. But as all other ideas are clearly distinct
and different from each other, we can never advance farther, by our
utmost scrutiny, than to observe this diversity, and, by an obvious
reflection, pronounce one thing not to be another. Or if there be any
difficulty in these decisions, it proceeds entirely from the
undeterminate meaning of words, which is corrected by juster
definitions. That the square of the hypothenuse is equal to the squares
of the other two sides, cannot be known, let the terms be ever so
exactly defined, without a train of reasoning and enquiry. But to
convince us of this proposition, that where there is no property, there
can be no injustice, it is only necessary to define the terms, and
explain injustice to be a violation of property. This proposition is,
indeed, nothing but a more imperfect definition. It is the same case
with all those pretended syllogistical reasonings, which may be found in
every other branch of learning, except the sciences of quantity and
number; and these may safely, I think, be pronounced the only proper
objects of knowledge and demonstration.
132. All other enquiries of men regard only matter of fact and
existence; and these are evidently incapable of demonstration. Whatever
is may not be. No negation of a fact can involve a contradiction. The
non-existence of any being, without exception, is as clear and distinct
an idea as its existence. The proposition, which affirms it not to be,
however false, is no less conceivable and intelligible, than that which
affirms it to be. The case is different with the sciences, properly so
called. Every proposition, which is not true, is there confused and
unintelligible. That the cube root of 64 is equal to the half of 10, is
a false proposition, and can never be distinctly conceived. But that
Caesar, or the angel Gabriel, or any being never existed, may be a false
proposition, but still is perfectly conceivable, and implies no
contradiction.
The existence, therefore, of any being can only be proved by
arguments from its cause or its effect; and these arguments are founded
entirely on experience. If we reason a priori, anything may appear able
to produce anything. The falling of a pebble may, for aught we know,
extinguish the sun; or the wish of a man control the planets in their
orbits. It is only experience, which teaches us the nature and bounds of
cause and effect, and enables us to infer the existence of one object
from that of another34. Such is the foundation of moral reasoning, which
forms the greater part of human knowledge, and is the source of all
human action and behaviour.
Moral reasonings are either concerning particular or general facts.
All deliberations in life regard the former; as also all disquisitions
in history, chronology, geography, and astronomy.
The sciences, which treat of general facts, are politics, natural
philosophy, physic, chemistry, &c. where the qualities, causes and
effects of a whole species of objects are enquired into.
Divinity or Theology, as it proves the existence of a Deity, and the
immortality of souls, is composed partly of reasonings concerning
particular, partly concerning general facts. It has a foundation in
reason, so far as it is supported by experience. But its best and most
solid foundation is faith and divine revelation.
Morals and criticism are not so properly objects of the understanding
as of taste and sentiment. Beauty, whether moral or natural, is felt,
more properly than perceived. Or if we reason concerning it, and
endeavour to fix its standard, we regard a new fact, to wit, the general
tastes of mankind, or some such fact, which may be the object of
reasoning and enquiry.
When we run over libraries, persuaded of these principles, what havoc
must we make? If we take in our hand any volume; of divinity or school
metaphysics, for instance; let us ask, Does it contain any abstract
reasoning concerning quantity or number? No. Does it contain any
experimental reasoning concerning matter of fact and existence? No.
Commit it then to the flames: for it can contain nothing but sophistry
and illusion.
FOOTNOTES.
Footnote 1: (return)
It is probable that no more was meant by those, who denied innate ideas,
than that all ideas were copies of our impressions; though it must be
confessed, that the terms, which they employed, were not chosen with
such caution, nor so exactly defined, as to prevent all mistakes about
their doctrine. For what is meant by innate? If innate be equivalent to
natural, then all the perceptions and ideas of the mind must be allowed
to be innate or natural, in whatever sense we take the latter word,
whether in opposition to what is uncommon, artificial, or miraculous. If
by innate be meant, contemporary to our birth, the dispute seems to be
frivolous; nor is it worth while to enquire at what time thinking
begins, whether before, at, or after our birth. Again, the word idea,
seems to be commonly taken in a very loose sense, by LOCKE and others;
as standing for any of our perceptions, our sensations and passions, as
well as thoughts. Now in this sense, I should desire to know, what can
be meant by asserting, that self-love, or resentment of injuries, or the
passion between the sexes is not innate?
But admitting these terms, impressions and ideas, in the sense above
explained, and understanding by innate, what is original or copied from
no precedent perception, then may we assert that all our impressions are
innate, and our ideas not innate.
To be ingenuous, I must own it to be my opinion, that LOCKE was
betrayed into this question by the schoolmen, who, making use of
undefined terms, draw out their disputes to a tedious length, without
ever touching the point in question. A like ambiguity and circumlocution
seem to run through that philosopher's reasonings on this as well as
most other subjects.
Footnote 2: (return)
Resemblance.
Footnote 3: (return)
Contiguity.
Footnote 4: (return)
Cause and effect.
Footnote 5: (return)
For instance, Contrast or Contrariety is also a connexion among Ideas:
but it may, perhaps, be considered as a mixture of Causation and
Resemblance. Where two objects are contrary, the one destroys the other;
that is, the cause of its annihilation, and the idea of the annihilation
of an object, implies the idea of its former existence.
Footnote 6: (return)
The word, Power, is here used in a loose and popular sense. The more
accurate explication of it would give additional evidence to this
argument. See Sect. 7.
Footnote 7: (return)
Nothing is more useful than for writers, even, on moral, political, or
physical subjects, to distinguish between reason and experience, and to
suppose, that these species of argumentation are entirely different from
each other. The former are taken for the mere result of our intellectual
faculties, which, by considering priori the nature of things, and
examining the effects, that must follow from their operation, establish
particular principles of science and philosophy. The latter are supposed
to be derived entirely from sense and observation, by which we learn
what has actually resulted from the operation of particular objects, and
are thence able to infer, what will, for the future, result from them.
Thus, for instance, the limitations and restraints of civil government,
and a legal constitution, may be defended, either from reason, which
reflecting on the great frailty and corruption of human nature, teaches,
that no man can safely be trusted with unlimited authority; or from
experience and history, which inform us of the enormous abuses, that
ambition, in every age and country, has been found to make of so
imprudent a confidence.
The same distinction between reason and experience is maintained in
all our deliberations concerning the conduct of life; while the
experienced statesman, general, physician, or merchant is trusted and
followed; and the unpractised novice, with whatever natural talents
endowed, neglected and despised. Though it be allowed, that reason may
form very plausible conjectures with regard to the consequences of such
a particular conduct in such particular circumstances; it is still
supposed imperfect, without the assistance of experience, which is alone
able to give stability and certainty to the maxims, derived from study
and reflection.
But notwithstanding that this distinction be thus universally
received, both in the active speculative scenes of life, I shall not
scruple to pronounce, that it is, at bottom, erroneous, at least,
superficial.
If we examine those arguments, which, in any of the sciences above
mentioned, are supposed to be the mere effects of reasoning and
reflection, they will be found to terminate, at last, in some general
principle or conclusion, for which we can assign no reason but
observation and experience. The only difference between them and those
maxims, which are vulgarly esteemed the result of pure experience, is,
that the former cannot be established without some process of thought,
and some reflection on what we have observed, in order to distinguish
its circumstances, and trace its consequences: Whereas in the latter,
the experienced event is exactly and fully familiar to that which we
infer as the result of any particular situation. The history of a
TIBERIUS or a NERO makes us dread a like tyranny, were our monarchs
freed from the restraints of laws and senates: But the observation of
any fraud or cruelty in private life is sufficient, with the aid of a
little thought, to give us the same apprehension; while it serves as an
instance of the general corruption of human nature, and shows us the
danger which we must incur by reposing an entire confidence in mankind.
In both cases, it is experience which is ultimately the foundation of
our inference and conclusion.
There is no man so young and unexperienced, as not to have formed,
from observation, many general and just maxims concerning human affairs
and the conduct of life; but it must be confessed, that, when a man
comes to put these in practice, he will be extremely liable to error,
till time and farther experience both enlarge these maxims, and teach
him their proper use and application. In every situation or incident,
there are many particular and seemingly minute circumstances, which the
man of greatest talent is, at first, apt to overlook, though on them the
justness of his conclusions, and consequently the prudence of his
conduct, entirely depend. Not to mention, that, to a young beginner, the
general observations and maxims occur not always on the proper
occasions, nor can be immediately applied with due calmness and
distinction. The truth is, an unexperienced reasoner could be no
reasoner at all, were he absolutely unexperienced; and when we assign
that character to any one, we mean it only in a comparative sense, and
suppose him possessed of experience, in a smaller and more imperfect
degree.
Footnote 8: (return)
'Naturane nobis, inquit, datum dicam, an errore quodam, ut, cum ea loca
videamus, in quibus memoria dignos viros acceperimus multum esse
versatos, magis moveamur, quam siquando eorum ipsorum aut facta audiamus
aut scriptum aliquod legamus? Velut ego nunc moveor. Venit enim mihi
Plato in mentem, quera accepimus primum hic disputare solitum: cuius
etiam illi hortuli propinqui non memoriam solum mihi afferunt, sed ipsum
videntur in conspectu meo hic ponere. Hic Speusippus, hic Xenocrates,
hic eius auditor Polemo; cuius ipsa illa sessio fuit, quam videmus.
Equidem etiam curiam nostram, Hostiliam dico, non hanc novam, quae mihi
minor esse videtur postquam est maior, solebam intuens, Scipionem,
Catonem, Laelium, nostrum vero in primis avum cogitare. Tanta vis
admonitionis est in locis; ut non sine causa ex his memoriae deducta sit
disciplina.'
Cicero de Finibus. Lib. v.
Footnote 9: (return)
Mr. Locke divides all arguments into demonstrative and probable. In this
view, we must say, that it is only probable all men must die, or that
the sun will rise to-morrow. But to conform our language more to common
use, we ought to divide arguments into demonstrations, proofs, and
probabilities. By proofs meaning such arguments from experience as leave
no room for doubt or opposition.
Footnote 10: (return)
Section II.
Footnote 11: (return)
Mr. Locke, in his chapter of power, says that, finding from experience,
that there are several new productions in nature, and concluding that
there must somewhere be a power capable of producing them, we arrive at
last by this reasoning at the idea of power. But no reasoning can ever
give us a new, original, simple idea; as this philosopher himself
confesses. This, therefore, can never be the origin of that idea.
Footnote 12: (return)
It may be pretended, that the resistance which we meet with in bodies,
obliging us frequently to exert our force, and call up all our power,
this gives us the idea of force and power. It is this nisus, or strong
endeavour, of which we are conscious, that is the original impression
from which this idea is copied. But, first, we attribute power to a vast
number of objects, where we never can suppose this resistance or
exertion of force to take place; to the Supreme Being, who never meets
with any resistance; to the mind in its command over its ideas and
limbs, in common thinking and motion, where the effect follows
immediately upon the will, without any exertion or summoning up of
force; to inanimate matter, which is not capable of this sentiment.
Secondly, This sentiment of an endeavour to overcome resistance has no
known connexion with any event: What follows it, we know by experience;
but could not know it priori. It must, however, be confessed, that the
animal nisus, which we experience, though it can afford no accurate
precise idea of power, enters very much into that vulgar, inaccurate
idea, which is formed of it.
Footnote 13: (return)
[Greek: theos apo maechanaes.]
Footnote 14: (return)
Section XII.
Footnote 15: (return)
I need not examine at length the vis inertiae which is so much talked of
in the new philosophy, and which is ascribed to matter. We find by
experience, that a body at rest or in motion continues for ever in its
present state, till put from it by some new cause; and that a body
impelled takes as much motion from the impelling body as it acquires
itself. These are facts. When we call this a vis inertiae, we only mark
these facts, without pretending to have any idea of the inert power; in
the same manner as, when we talk of gravity, we mean certain effects,
without comprehending that active power. It was never the meaning of Sir
ISAAC NEWTON to rob second causes of all force or energy; though some of
his followers have endeavoured to establish that theory upon his
authority. On the contrary, that great philosopher had recourse to an
etherial active fluid to explain his universal attraction; though he was
so cautious and modest as to allow, that it was a mere hypothesis, not
to be insisted on, without more experiments. I must confess, that there
is something in the fate of opinions a little extraordinary. DES CARTES
insinuated that doctrine of the universal and sole efficacy of the
Deity, without insisting on it. MALEBRANCHE and other CARTESIANS made it
the foundation of all their philosophy. It had, however, no authority in
England. LOCKE, CLARKE, and CUDWORTH, never so much as take notice of
it, but suppose all along, that matter has a real, though subordinate
and derived power. By what means has it become so prevalent among our
modern metaphysicians?
Footnote 16: (return)
According to these explications and definitions, the idea of power is
relative as much as that of cause; and both have a reference to an
effect, or some other event constantly conjoined with the former. When
we consider the unknown circumstance of an object, by which the degree
or quantity of its effect is fixed and determined, we call that its
power: And accordingly, it is allowed by all philosophers, that the
effect is the measure of the power. But if they had any idea of power,
as it is in itself, why could not they Measure it in itself? The dispute
whether the force of a body in motion be as its velocity, or the square
of its velocity; this dispute, I say, need not be decided by comparing
its effects in equal or unequal times; but by a direct mensuration and
comparison.
As to the frequent use of the words, Force, Power, Energy, &c., which
every where occur in common conversation, as well as in philosophy; that
is no proof, that we are acquainted, in any instance, with the
connecting principle between cause and effect, or can account ultimately
for the production of one thing to another. These words, as commonly
used, have very loose meanings annexed to them; and their ideas are very
uncertain and confused. No animal can put external bodies in motion
without the sentiment of a nisus or endeavour; and every animal has a
sentiment or feeling from the stroke or blow of an external object, that
is in motion. These sensations, which are merely animal, and from which
we can priori draw no inference, we are apt to transfer to inanimate
objects, and to suppose, that they have some such feelings, whenever
they transfer or receive motion. With regard to energies, which are
exerted, without our annexing to them any idea of communicated motion,
we consider only the constant experienced conjunction of the events; and
as we feel a customary connexion between the ideas, we transfer that
feeling to the objects; as nothing is more usual than to apply to
external bodies every internal sensation, which they occasion.
Footnote 17: (return)
The prevalence of the doctrine of liberty may be accounted for, from
another cause, viz. a false sensation or seeming experience which we
have, or may have, of liberty or indifference, in many of our actions.
The necessity of any action, whether of matter or of mind, is not,
properly speaking, a quality in the agent, but in any thinking or
intelligent being, who may consider the action; and it consists chiefly
in the determination of his thoughts to infer the existence of that
action from some preceding objects; as liberty, when opposed to
necessity, is nothing but the want of that determination, and a certain
looseness or indifference, which we feel, in passing, or not passing,
from the idea of one object to that of any succeeding one. Now we may
observe, that, though, in reflecting on human actions, we seldom feel
such a looseness, or indifference, but are commonly able to infer them
with considerable certainty from their motives, and from the
dispositions of the agent; yet it frequently happens, that, in
performing the actions themselves, we are sensible of something like it:
And as all resembling objects are readily taken for each other, this has
been employed as a demonstrative and even intuitive proof of human
liberty. We feel, that our actions are subject to our will, on most
occasions; and imagine we feel, that the will itself is subject to
nothing, because, when by a denial of it we are provoked to try, we
feel, that it moves easily every way, and produces an image of itself
(or a Velleïty, as it is called in the schools) even on that side, on
which it did not settle. This image, or faint motion, we persuade
ourselves, could, at that time, have been compleated into the thing
itself; because, should that be denied, we find, upon a second trial,
that, at present, it can. We consider not, that the fantastical desire
of shewing liberty, is here the motive of our actions. And it seems
certain, that, however we may imagine we feel a liberty within
ourselves, a spectator can commonly infer our actions from our motives
and character; and even where he cannot, he concludes in general, that
he might, were he perfectly acquainted with every circumstance of our
situation and temper, and the most secret springs of our complexion and
disposition. Now this is the very essence of necessity, according to the
foregoing doctrine.
Footnote 18: (return)
Thus, if a cause be defined, that which produces any thing; it is easy
to observe, that producing is synonymous to causing. In like manner, if
a cause be defined, that by which any thing exists; this is liable to
the same objection. For what is meant by these words, by which? Had it
been said, that a cause is that after which any thing constantly exists;
we should have understood the terms. For this is, indeed, all we know of
the matter. And this constancy forms the very essence of necessity, nor
have we any other idea of it.
Footnote 19: (return)
Since all reasonings concerning facts or causes is derived merely from
custom, it may be asked how it happens, that men so much surpass animals
in reasoning, and one man so much surpasses another? Has not the same
custom the same influence on all?
We shall here endeavour briefly to explain the great difference in
human understandings: After which the reason of the difference between
men and animals will easily be comprehended.
1. When we have lived any time, and have been accustomed to the
uniformity of nature, we acquire a general habit, by which we always
transfer the known to the unknown, and conceive the latter to resemble
the former. By means of this general habitual principle, we regard even
one experiment as the foundation of reasoning, and expect a similar
event with some degree of certainty, where the experiment has been made
accurately, and free from all foreign circumstances. It is therefore
considered as a matter of great importance to observe the consequences
of things; and as one man may very much surpass another in attention and
memory and observation, this will make a very great difference in their
reasoning.
2. Where there is a complication of causes to produce any effect, one
mind may be much larger than another, and better able to comprehend the
whole system of objects, and to infer justly their consequences.
3. One man is able to carry on a chain of consequences to a greater
length than another.
4. Few men can think long without running into a confusion of ideas,
and mistaking one for another; and there are various degrees of this
infirmity.
5. The circumstance, on which the effect depends, is frequently
involved in other circumstances, which are foreign and extrinsic. The
separation of it often requires great attention, accuracy, and subtilty.
6. The forming of general maxims from particular observation is a
very nice operation; and nothing is more usual, from haste or a
narrowness of mind, which sees not on all sides, than to commit mistakes
in this particular.
7. When we reason from analogies, the man, who has the greater
experience or the greater promptitude of suggesting analogies, will be
the better reasoner.
8. Byasses from prejudice, education, passion, party, &c. hang more
upon one mind than another.
9. After we have acquired a confidence in human testimony, books and
conversation enlarge much more the sphere of one man's experience and
thought than those of another.
It would be easy to discover many other circumstances that make a
difference in the understandings of men.
Footnote 20: (return)
Plutarch, in vita Catonis.
Footnote 21: (return)
No Indian, it is evident, could have experience that water did not
freeze in cold climates. This is placing nature in a situation quite
unknown to him; and it is impossible for him to tell a priori what will
result from it. It is making a new experiment, the consequence of which
is always uncertain. One may sometimes conjecture from analogy what will
follow; but still this is but conjecture. And it must be confessed,
that, in the present case of freezing, the event follows contrary to the
rules of analogy, and is such as a rational Indian would not look for.
The operations of cold upon water are not gradual, according to the
degrees of cold; but whenever it comes to the freezing point, the water
passes in a moment, from the utmost liquidity to perfect hardness. Such
an event, therefore, may be denominated extraordinary, and requires a
pretty strong testimony, to render it credible to people in a warm
climate: But still it is not miraculous, nor contrary to uniform
experience of the course of nature in cases where all the circumstances
are the same. The inhabitants of Sumatra have always seen water fluid in
their own climate, and the freezing of their rivers ought to be deemed a
prodigy: But they never saw water in Muscovy during the winter; and
therefore they cannot reasonably be positive what would there be the
consequence.
Footnote 22: (return)
Sometimes an event may not, in itself, seem to be contrary to the laws
of nature, and yet, if it were real, it might, by reason of some
circumstances, be denominated a miracle; because, in fact, it is
contrary to these laws. Thus if a person, claiming a divine authority,
should command a sick person to be well, a healthful man to fall down
dead, the clouds to pour rain, the winds to blow, in short, should order
many natural events, which immediately follow upon his command; these
might justly be esteemed miracles, because they are really, in this
case, contrary to the laws of nature. For if any suspicion remain, that
the event and command concurred by accident, there is no miracle and no
transgression of the laws of nature. If this suspicion be removed, there
is evidently a miracle, and a transgression of these laws; because
nothing can be more contrary to nature than that the voice or command of
a man should have such an influence. A miracle may be accurately
defined, a transgression of a law of nature by a particular volition of
the Deity, or by the interposition of some invisible agent. A miracle
may either be discoverable by men or not. This alters not its nature and
essence. The raising of a house or ship into the air is a visible
miracle. The raising of a feather, when the wind wants ever so little of
a force requisite for that purpose, is as real a miracle, though not so
sensible with regard to us.
Footnote 23: (return)
Hist. lib. iv. cap. 81. Suetonius gives nearly the same account in vita
Vesp.
Footnote 24: (return)
This book was writ by Mons. Montgeron, counsellor or judge of the
parliament of Paris, a man of figure and character, who was also a
martyr to the cause, and is now said to be somewhere in a dungeon on
account of his book.
There is another book in three volumes (called Recueil des Miracles
de l'Abb(c) Paris) giving an account of many of these miracles, and
accompanied with prefatory discourses, which are very well written.
There runs, however, through the whole of these a ridiculous comparison
between the miracles of our Saviour and those of the Abbh(c); wherein it
is asserted, that the evidence for the latter is equal to that for the
former: As if the testimony of men could ever be put in the balance with
that of God himself, who conducted the pen of the inspired writers. If
these writers, indeed, were to be considered merely as human testimony,
the French author is very moderate in his comparison; since he might,
with some appearance of reason, pretend, that the Jansenist miracles
much surpass the other in evidence and authority. The following
circumstances are drawn from authentic papers, inserted in the
above-mentioned book.
Many of the miracles of Abb(c) Paris were proved immediately by
witnesses before the officiality or bishop's court at Paris, under the
eye of cardinal Noailles, whose character for integrity and capacity was
never contested even by his enemies.
His successor in the archbishopric was an enemy to the Jansenists,
and for that reason promoted to the see by the court. Yet 22 rectors or
curu(c)s of Paris, with infinite earnestness, press him to examine those
miracles, which they assert to be known to the whole world, and
undisputably certain: But he wisely forbore.
The Molinist party had tried to discredit these miracles in one
instance, that of Mademoiselle le Franc. But, besides that their
proceedings were in many respects the most irregular in the world,
particularly in citing only a few of the Jansenist witnesses, whom they
tampered with: Besides this, I say, they soon found themselves
overwhelmed by a cloud of new witnesses, one hundred and twenty in
number, most of them persons of credit and substance in Paris, who gave
oath for the miracle. This was accompanied with a solemn and earnest
appeal to the parliament. But the parliament were forbidden by authority
to meddle in the affair. It was at last observed, that where men are
heated by zeal and enthusiasm, there is no degree of human testimony so
strong as may not be procured for the greatest absurdity: And those who
will be so silly as to examine the affair by that medium, and seek
particular flaws in the testimony, are almost sure to be confounded. It
must be a miserable imposture, indeed, that does not prevail in that
contest.
All who have been in France about that time have heard of the
reputation of Mons. Heraut, the lieutenant de Police, whose vigilance,
penetration, activity, and extensive intelligence have been much talked
of. This magistrate, who by the nature of his office is almost absolute,
was vested with full powers, on purpose to suppress or discredit these
miracles; and he frequently seized immediately, and examined the
witnesses and subjects of them: But never could reach any thing
satisfactory against them.
In the case of Mademoiselle Thibaut he sent the famous De Sylva to
examine her; whose evidence is very curious. The physician declares,
that it was impossible she could have been so ill as was proved by
witnesses; because it was impossible she could, in so short a time, have
recovered so perfectly as he found her. He reasoned, like a man of
sense, from natural causes; but the opposite party told him, that the
whole was a miracle, and that his evidence was the very best proof of
it.
The Molinists were in a sad dilemma. They durst not assert the
absolute insufficiency of human evidence, to prove a miracle. They were
obliged to say, that these miracles were wrought by witchcraft and the
devil. But they were told, that this was the resource of the Jews of
old.
No Jansenist was ever embarrassed to account for the cessation of the
miracles, when the church-yard was shut up by the king's edict. It was
the touch of the tomb, which produced these extraordinary effects; and
when no one could approach the tomb, no effects could be expected. God,
indeed, could have thrown down the walls in a moment; but he is master
of his own graces and works, and it belongs not to us to account for
them. He did not throw down the walls of every city like those of
Jericho, on the sounding of the rams horns, nor break up the prison of
every apostle, like that of St. Paul.
No less a man, than the Due de Chatillon, a duke and peer of France,
of the highest rank and family, gives evidence of a miraculous cure,
performed upon a servant of his, who had lived several years in his
house with a visible and palpable infirmity. I shall conclude with
observing, that no clergy are more celebrated for strictness of life and
manners than the secular clergy of France, particularly the rectors or
cur(c)s of Paris, who bear testimony to these impostures. The learning,
genius, and probity of the gentlemen, and the austerity of the nuns of
Port-Royal, have been much celebrated all over Europe. Yet they all give
evidence for a miracle, wrought on the niece of the famous Pascal, whose
sanctity of life, as well as extraordinary capacity, is well known. The
famous Racine gives an account of this miracle in his famous history of
Port-Royal, and fortifies it with all the proofs, which a multitude of
nuns, priests, physicians, and men of the world, all of them of
undoubted credit, could bestow upon it. Several men of letters,
particularly the bishop of Tournay, thought this miracle so certain, as
to employ it in the refutation of atheists and free-thinkers. The
queen-regent of France, who was extremely prejudiced against the
Port-Royal, sent her own physician to examine the miracle, who returned
an absolute convert. In short, the supernatural cure was so
uncontestable, that it saved, for a time, that famous monastery from the
ruin with which it was threatened by the Jesuits. Had it been a cheat,
it had certainly been detected by such sagacious and powerful
antagonists, and must have hastened the ruin of the contrivers. Our
divines, who can build up a formidable castle from such despicable
materials; what a prodigious fabric could they have reared from these
and many other circumstances, which I have not mentioned! How often
would the great names of Pascal, Racine, Amaud, Nicole, have resounded
in our ears? But if they be wise, they had better adopt the miracle, as
being more worth, a thousand times, than all the rest of the collection.
Besides, it may serve very much to their purpose. For that miracle was
really performed by the touch of an authentic holy prickle of the holy
thorn, which composed the holy crown, which, &c.
Footnote 25: (return)
Lucret.
Footnote 26: (return)
Nov. Org. lib. ii. aph. 29.
Footnote 27: (return)
Luciani [Greek: symp. ae Lapithai].
Footnote 28: (return)
Luciani [Greek: eunouchos].
Footnote 29: (return)
Luciani and Dio.
Footnote 30: (return)
In general, it may, I think, be established as a maxim, that where any
cause is known only by its particular effects, it must be impossible to
infer any new effects from that cause; since the qualities, which are
requisite to produce these new effects along with the former, must
either be different, or superior, or of more extensive operation, than
those which simply produced the effect, whence alone the cause is
supposed to be known to us. We can never, therefore, have any reason to
suppose the existence of these qualities. To say, that the new effects
proceed only from a continuation of the same energy, which is already
known from the first effects, will not remove the difficulty. For even
granting this to be the case (which can seldom be supposed), the very
continuation and exertion of a like energy (for it is impossible it can
be absolutely the same), I say, this exertion of a like energy, in a
different period of space and time, is a very arbitrary supposition, and
what there cannot possibly be any traces of in the effects, from which
all our knowledge of the cause is originally derived. Let the inferred
cause be exactly proportioned (as it should be) to the known effect; and
it is impossible that it can possess any qualities, from which new or
different effects can be inferred.
Footnote 31: (return)
This argument is drawn from Dr. Berkeley; and indeed most of the
writings of that very ingenious author form the best lessons of
scepticism, which are to be found either among the ancient or modern
philosopher, Bayle not excepted. He professes, however, in his
title-page (and undoubtedly with great truth) to have composed his book
against the sceptics as well as against the atheists and free-thinkers.
But that all his arguments, though otherwise intended, are, in reality,
merely sceptical, appears from this, that they admit of no answer and
produce no conviction. Their only effect is to cause that momentary
amazement and irresolution and confusion, which is the result of
scepticism.
Footnote 32: (return)
Whatever disputes there may be about mathematical points, we must allow
that there are physical points; that is, parts of extension, which
cannot be divided or lessened, either by the eye or imagination. These
images, then, which are present to the fancy or senses, are absolutely
indivisible, and consequently must be allowed by mathematicians to be
infinitely less than any real part of extension; and yet nothing appears
more certain to reason, than that an infinite number of them composes an
infinite extension. How much more an infinite number of those infinitely
small parts of extension, which are still supposed infinitely divisible.
Footnote 33: (return)
It seems to me not impossible to avoid these absurdities and
contradictions, if it be admitted, that there is no such thing as
abstract or general ideas, properly speaking; but that all general ideas
are, in reality, particular ones, attached to a general term, which
recalls, upon occasion, other particular ones, that resemble, in certain
circumstances, the idea, present to the mind. Thus when the term Horse
is pronounced, we immediately figure to ourselves the idea of a black or
a white animal, of a particular size or figure: But as that term is also
usually applied to animals of other colours, figures and sizes, these
ideas, though not actually present to the imagination, are easily
recalled; and our reasoning and conclusion proceed in the same way, as
if they were actually present. If this be admitted (as seems reasonable)
it follows that all the ideas of quantity, upon which mathematicians
reason, are nothing but particular, and such as are suggested by the
senses and imagination, and consequently, cannot be infinitely
divisible. It is sufficient to have dropped this hint at present,
without prosecuting it any farther. It certainly concerns all lovers of
science not to expose themselves to the ridicule and contempt of the
ignorant by their conclusions; and this seems the readiest solution of
these difficulties.
Footnote 34: (return)
That impious maxim of the ancient philosophy, Ex nihilo, nihil fit, by
which the creation of matter was excluded, ceases to be a maxim,
according to this philosophy. Not only the will of the supreme Being may
create matter; but, for aught we know a priori, the will of any other
being might create it, or any other cause, that the most whimsical
imagination can assign.