{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_9662/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_9662","id":"gutenberg_9662","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/9662","summary":null,"tags":["Category: History - Early Modern (c. 1450-1750)","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Ethics","Harvard Classics","Knowledge, Theory of","Philosophy"],"text":"Produced by Jonathan Ingram and Project Gutenberg\nDistributed Proofreaders\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nAN ENQUIRY CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING.\n\nBY DAVID HUME\n\n\n\nExtracted from:\nEnquiries Concerning the Human Understanding, and Concerning the\nPrinciples of Morals, By David Hume.\n\nReprinted from The Posthumous Edition of 1777, and Edited with\nIntroduction, Comparative Tables of Contents, and Analytical Index\nby L.A. Selby-Bigge, M.A., Late Fellow of University College, Oxford.\n\nSecond Edition, 1902\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n  I.    Of the different Species of Philosophy\n  II.   Of the Origin of Ideas\n  III.  Of the Association of Ideas\n  IV.   Sceptical Doubts concerning the Operations of the Understanding\n  V.    Sceptical Solution of these Doubts\n  VI.   Of Probability\n  VII.  Of the Idea of necessary Connexion\n  VIII. Of Liberty and Necessity\n  IX.   Of the Reason of Animals\n  X.    Of Miracles\n  XI.   Of a particular Providence and of a future State\n  XII.  Of the academical or sceptical Philosophy\n\n\n\n  INDEX\n\n\n\n\nSECTION I.\n\nOF THE DIFFERENT SPECIES OF PHILOSOPHY.\n\n\n1. Moral philosophy, or the science of human nature, may be treated\nafter two different manners; each of which has its peculiar merit, and\nmay contribute to the entertainment, instruction, and reformation of\nmankind. The one considers man chiefly as born for action; and as\ninfluenced in his measures by taste and sentiment; pursuing one object,\nand avoiding another, according to the value which these objects seem to\npossess, and according to the light in which they present themselves. As\nvirtue, of all objects, is allowed to be the most valuable, this species\nof philosophers paint her in the most amiable colours; borrowing all\nhelps from poetry and eloquence, and treating their subject in an easy\nand obvious manner, and such as is best fitted to please the\nimagination, and engage the affections. They select the most striking\nobservations and instances from common life; place opposite characters\nin a proper contrast; and alluring us into the paths of virtue by the\nviews of glory and happiness, direct our steps in these paths by the\nsoundest precepts and most illustrious examples. They make us _feel_ the\ndifference between vice and virtue; they excite and regulate our\nsentiments; and so they can but bend our hearts to the love of probity\nand true honour, they think, that they have fully attained the end of\nall their labours.\n\n2. The other species of philosophers consider man in the light of a\nreasonable rather than an active being, and endeavour to form his\nunderstanding more than cultivate his manners. They regard human nature\nas a subject of speculation; and with a narrow scrutiny examine it, in\norder to find those principles, which regulate our understanding, excite\nour sentiments, and make us approve or blame any particular object,\naction, or behaviour. They think it a reproach to all literature, that\nphilosophy should not yet have fixed, beyond controversy, the foundation\nof morals, reasoning, and criticism; and should for ever talk of truth\nand falsehood, vice and virtue, beauty and deformity, without being able\nto determine the source of these distinctions. While they attempt this\narduous task, they are deterred by no difficulties; but proceeding from\nparticular instances to general principles, they still push on their\nenquiries to principles more general, and rest not satisfied till they\narrive at those original principles, by which, in every science, all\nhuman curiosity must be bounded. Though their speculations seem\nabstract, and even unintelligible to common readers, they aim at the\napprobation of the learned and the wise; and think themselves\nsufficiently compensated for the labour of their whole lives, if they\ncan discover some hidden truths, which may contribute to the instruction\nof posterity.\n\n3. It is certain that the easy and obvious philosophy will always, with\nthe generality of mankind, have the preference above the accurate and\nabstruse; and by many will be recommended, not only as more agreeable,\nbut more useful than the other. It enters more into common life; moulds\nthe heart and affections; and, by touching those principles which\nactuate men, reforms their conduct, and brings them nearer to that model\nof perfection which it describes. On the contrary, the abstruse\nphilosophy, being founded on a turn of mind, which cannot enter into\nbusiness and action, vanishes when the philosopher leaves the shade, and\ncomes into open day; nor can its principles easily retain any influence\nover our conduct and behaviour. The feelings of our heart, the agitation\nof our passions, the vehemence of our affections, dissipate all its\nconclusions, and reduce the profound philosopher to a mere plebeian.\n\n4. This also must be confessed, that the most durable, as well as\njustest fame, has been acquired by the easy philosophy, and that\nabstract reasoners seem hitherto to have enjoyed only a momentary\nreputation, from the caprice or ignorance of their own age, but have not\nbeen able to support their renown with more equitable posterity. It is\neasy for a profound philosopher to commit a mistake in his subtile\nreasonings; and one mistake is the necessary parent of another, while he\npushes on his consequences, and is not deterred from embracing any\nconclusion, by its unusual appearance, or its contradiction to popular\nopinion. But a philosopher, who purposes only to represent the common\nsense of mankind in more beautiful and more engaging colours, if by\naccident he falls into error, goes no farther; but renewing his appeal\nto common sense, and the natural sentiments of the mind, returns into\nthe right path, and secures himself from any dangerous illusions. The\nfame of Cicero flourishes at present; but that of Aristotle is utterly\ndecayed. La Bruyere passes the seas, and still maintains his reputation:\nBut the glory of Malebranche is confined to his own nation, and to his\nown age. And Addison, perhaps, will be read with pleasure, when Locke\nshall be entirely forgotten.\n\nThe mere philosopher is a character, which is commonly but little\nacceptable in the world, as being supposed to contribute nothing either\nto the advantage or pleasure of society; while he lives remote from\ncommunication with mankind, and is wrapped up in principles and notions\nequally remote from their comprehension. On the other hand, the mere\nignorant is still more despised; nor is any thing deemed a surer sign of\nan illiberal genius in an age and nation where the sciences flourish,\nthan to be entirely destitute of all relish for those noble\nentertainments. The most perfect character is supposed to lie between\nthose extremes; retaining an equal ability and taste for books, company,\nand business; preserving in conversation that discernment and delicacy\nwhich arise from polite letters; and in business, that probity and\naccuracy which are the natural result of a just philosophy. In order to\ndiffuse and cultivate so accomplished a character, nothing can be more\nuseful than compositions of the easy style and manner, which draw not\ntoo much from life, require no deep application or retreat to be\ncomprehended, and send back the student among mankind full of noble\nsentiments and wise precepts, applicable to every exigence of human\nlife. By means of such compositions, virtue becomes amiable, science\nagreeable, company instructive, and retirement entertaining.\n\nMan is a reasonable being; and as such, receives from science his proper\nfood and nourishment: But so narrow are the bounds of human\nunderstanding, that little satisfaction can be hoped for in this\nparticular, either from the extent of security or his acquisitions. Man\nis a sociable, no less than a reasonable being: But neither can he\nalways enjoy company agreeable and amusing, or preserve the proper\nrelish for them. Man is also an active being; and from that disposition,\nas well as from the various necessities of human life, must submit to\nbusiness and occupation: But the mind requires some relaxation, and\ncannot always support its bent to care and industry. It seems, then,\nthat nature has pointed out a mixed kind of life as most suitable to the\nhuman race, and secretly admonished them to allow none of these biasses\nto _draw_ too much, so as to incapacitate them for other occupations and\nentertainments. Indulge your passion for science, says she, but let your\nscience be human, and such as may have a direct reference to action and\nsociety. Abstruse thought and profound researches I prohibit, and will\nseverely punish, by the pensive melancholy which they introduce, by the\nendless uncertainty in which they involve you, and by the cold reception\nwhich your pretended discoveries shall meet with, when communicated. Be\na philosopher; but, amidst all your philosophy, be still a man.\n\n5. Were the generality of mankind contented to prefer the easy\nphilosophy to the abstract and profound, without throwing any blame or\ncontempt on the latter, it might not be improper, perhaps, to comply\nwith this general opinion, and allow every man to enjoy, without\nopposition, his own taste and sentiment. But as the matter is often\ncarried farther, even to the absolute rejecting of all profound\nreasonings, or what is commonly called _metaphysics_, we shall now\nproceed to consider what can reasonably be pleaded in their behalf.\n\nWe may begin with observing, that one considerable advantage, which\nresults from the accurate and abstract philosophy, is, its subserviency\nto the easy and humane; which, without the former, can never attain a\nsufficient degree of exactness in its sentiments, precepts, or\nreasonings. All polite letters are nothing but pictures of human life in\nvarious attitudes and situations; and inspire us with different\nsentiments, of praise or blame, admiration or ridicule, according to the\nqualities of the object, which they set before us. An artist must be\nbetter qualified to succeed in this undertaking, who, besides a delicate\ntaste and a quick apprehension, possesses an accurate knowledge of the\ninternal fabric, the operations of the understanding, the workings of\nthe passions, and the various species of sentiment which discriminate\nvice and virtue. How painful soever this inward search or enquiry may\nappear, it becomes, in some measure, requisite to those, who would\ndescribe with success the obvious and outward appearances of life and\nmanners. The anatomist presents to the eye the most hideous and\ndisagreeable objects; but his science is useful to the painter in\ndelineating even a Venus or an Helen. While the latter employs all the\nrichest colours of his art, and gives his figures the most graceful and\nengaging airs; he must still carry his attention to the inward structure\nof the human body, the position of the muscles, the fabric of the bones,\nand the use and figure of every part or organ. Accuracy is, in every\ncase, advantageous to beauty, and just reasoning to delicate sentiment.\nIn vain would we exalt the one by depreciating the other.\n\nBesides, we may observe, in every art or profession, even those which\nmost concern life or action, that a spirit of accuracy, however\nacquired, carries all of them nearer their perfection, and renders them\nmore subservient to the interests of society. And though a philosopher\nmay live remote from business, the genius of philosophy, if carefully\ncultivated by several, must gradually diffuse itself throughout the\nwhole society, and bestow a similar correctness on every art and\ncalling. The politician will acquire greater foresight and subtility, in\nthe subdividing and balancing of power; the lawyer more method and finer\nprinciples in his reasonings; and the general more regularity in his\ndiscipline, and more caution in his plans and operations. The stability\nof modern governments above the ancient, and the accuracy of modern\nphilosophy, have improved, and probably will still improve, by similar\ngradations.\n\n6. Were there no advantage to be reaped from these studies, beyond the\ngratification of an innocent curiosity, yet ought not even this to be\ndespised; as being one accession to those few safe and harmless\npleasures, which are bestowed on human race. The sweetest and most\ninoffensive path of life leads through the avenues of science and\nlearning; and whoever can either remove any obstructions in this way, or\nopen up any new prospect, ought so far to be esteemed a benefactor to\nmankind. And though these researches may appear painful and fatiguing,\nit is with some minds as with some bodies, which being endowed with\nvigorous and florid health, require severe exercise, and reap a pleasure\nfrom what, to the generality of mankind, may seem burdensome and\nlaborious. Obscurity, indeed, is painful to the mind as well as to the\neye; but to bring light from obscurity, by whatever labour, must needs\nbe delightful and rejoicing.\n\nBut this obscurity in the profound and abstract philosophy, is objected\nto, not only as painful and fatiguing, but as the inevitable source of\nuncertainty and error. Here indeed lies the justest and most plausible\nobjection against a considerable part of metaphysics, that they are not\nproperly a science; but arise either from the fruitless efforts of human\nvanity, which would penetrate into subjects utterly inaccessible to the\nunderstanding, or from the craft of popular superstitions, which, being\nunable to defend themselves on fair ground, raise these intangling\nbrambles to cover and protect their weakness. Chaced from the open\ncountry, these robbers fly into the forest, and lie in wait to break in\nupon every unguarded avenue of the mind, and overwhelm it with religious\nfears and prejudices. The stoutest antagonist, if he remit his watch a\nmoment, is oppressed. And many, through cowardice and folly, open the\ngates to the enemies, and willingly receive them with reverence and\nsubmission, as their legal sovereigns.\n\n7. But is this a sufficient reason, why philosophers should desist from\nsuch researches, and leave superstition still in possession of her\nretreat? Is it not proper to draw an opposite conclusion, and perceive\nthe necessity of carrying the war into the most secret recesses of the\nenemy? In vain do we hope, that men, from frequent disappointment, will\nat last abandon such airy sciences, and discover the proper province of\nhuman reason. For, besides, that many persons find too sensible an\ninterest in perpetually recalling such topics; besides this, I say, the\nmotive of blind despair can never reasonably have place in the sciences;\nsince, however unsuccessful former attempts may have proved, there is\nstill room to hope, that the industry, good fortune, or improved\nsagacity of succeeding generations may reach discoveries unknown to\nformer ages. Each adventurous genius will still leap at the arduous\nprize, and find himself stimulated, rather that discouraged, by the\nfailures of his predecessors; while he hopes that the glory of achieving\nso hard an adventure is reserved for him alone. The only method of\nfreeing learning, at once, from these abstruse questions, is to enquire\nseriously into the nature of human understanding, and show, from an\nexact analysis of its powers and capacity, that it is by no means fitted\nfor such remote and abstruse subjects. We must submit to this fatigue,\nin order to live at ease ever after: And must cultivate true metaphysics\nwith some care, in order to destroy the false and adulterate. Indolence,\nwhich, to some persons, affords a safeguard against this deceitful\nphilosophy, is, with others, overbalanced by curiosity; and despair,\nwhich, at some moments, prevails, may give place afterwards to sanguine\nhopes and expectations. Accurate and just reasoning is the only catholic\nremedy, fitted for all persons and all dispositions; and is alone able\nto subvert that abstruse philosophy and metaphysical jargon, which,\nbeing mixed up with popular superstition, renders it in a manner\nimpenetrable to careless reasoners, and gives it the air of science\nand wisdom.\n\n8. Besides this advantage of rejecting, after deliberate enquiry, the\nmost uncertain and disagreeable part of learning, there are many\npositive advantages, which result from an accurate scrutiny into the\npowers and faculties of human nature. It is remarkable concerning the\noperations of the mind, that, though most intimately present to us, yet,\nwhenever they become the object of reflexion, they seem involved in\nobscurity; nor can the eye readily find those lines and boundaries,\nwhich discriminate and distinguish them. The objects are too fine to\nremain long in the same aspect or situation; and must be apprehended in\nan instant, by a superior penetration, derived from nature, and improved\nby habit and reflexion. It becomes, therefore, no inconsiderable part of\nscience barely to know the different operations of the mind, to separate\nthem from each other, to class them under their proper heads, and to\ncorrect all that seeming disorder, in which they lie involved, when made\nthe object of reflexion and enquiry. This talk of ordering and\ndistinguishing, which has no merit, when performed with regard to\nexternal bodies, the objects of our senses, rises in its value, when\ndirected towards the operations of the mind, in proportion to the\ndifficulty and labour, which we meet with in performing it. And if we\ncan go no farther than this mental geography, or delineation of the\ndistinct parts and powers of the mind, it is at least a satisfaction to\ngo so far; and the more obvious this science may appear (and it is by no\nmeans obvious) the more contemptible still must the ignorance of it be\nesteemed, in all pretenders to learning and philosophy.\n\nNor can there remain any suspicion, that this science is uncertain and\nchimerical; unless we should entertain such a scepticism as is entirely\nsubversive of all speculation, and even action. It cannot be doubted,\nthat the mind is endowed with several powers and faculties, that these\npowers are distinct from each other, that what is really distinct to the\nimmediate perception may be distinguished by reflexion; and\nconsequently, that there is a truth and falsehood in all propositions on\nthis subject, and a truth and falsehood, which lie not beyond the\ncompass of human understanding. There are many obvious distinctions of\nthis kind, such as those between the will and understanding, the\nimagination and passions, which fall within the comprehension of every\nhuman creature; and the finer and more philosophical distinctions are no\nless real and certain, though more difficult to be comprehended. Some\ninstances, especially late ones, of success in these enquiries, may give\nus a juster notion of the certainty and solidity of this branch of\nlearning. And shall we esteem it worthy the labour of a philosopher to\ngive us a true system of the planets, and adjust the position and order\nof those remote bodies; while we affect to overlook those, who, with so\nmuch success, delineate the parts of the mind, in which we are so\nintimately concerned?\n\n9. But may we not hope, that philosophy, if cultivated with care, and\nencouraged by the attention of the public, may carry its researches\nstill farther, and discover, at least in some degree, the secret springs\nand principles, by which the human mind is actuated in its operations?\nAstronomers had long contented themselves with proving, from the\nphaenomena, the true motions, order, and magnitude of the heavenly\nbodies: Till a philosopher, at last, arose, who seems, from the happiest\nreasoning, to have also determined the laws and forces, by which the\nrevolutions of the planets are governed and directed. The like has been\nperformed with regard to other parts of nature. And there is no reason\nto despair of equal success in our enquiries concerning the mental\npowers and economy, if prosecuted with equal capacity and caution. It is\nprobable, that one operation and principle of the mind depends on\nanother; which, again, may be resolved into one more general and\nuniversal: And how far these researches may possibly be carried, it will\nbe difficult for us, before, or even after, a careful trial, exactly to\ndetermine. This is certain, that attempts of this kind are every day\nmade even by those who philosophize the most negligently: And nothing\ncan be more requisite than to enter upon the enterprize with thorough\ncare and attention; that, if it lie within the compass of human\nunderstanding, it may at last be happily achieved; if not, it may,\nhowever, be rejected with some confidence and security. This last\nconclusion, surely, is not desirable; nor ought it to be embraced too\nrashly. For how much must we diminish from the beauty and value of this\nspecies of philosophy, upon such a supposition? Moralists have hitherto\nbeen accustomed, when they considered the vast multitude and diversity\nof those actions that excite our approbation or dislike, to search for\nsome common principle, on which this variety of sentiments might depend.\nAnd though they have sometimes carried the matter too far, by their\npassion for some one general principle; it must, however, be confessed,\nthat they are excusable in expecting to find some general principles,\ninto which all the vices and virtues were justly to be resolved. The\nlike has been the endeavour of critics, logicians, and even politicians:\nNor have their attempts been wholly unsuccessful; though perhaps longer\ntime, greater accuracy, and more ardent application may bring these\nsciences still nearer their perfection. To throw up at once all\npretensions of this kind may justly be deemed more rash, precipitate,\nand dogmatical, than even the boldest and most affirmative philosophy,\nthat has ever attempted to impose its crude dictates and principles\non mankind.\n\n10. What though these reasonings concerning human nature seem abstract,\nand of difficult comprehension? This affords no presumption of their\nfalsehood. On the contrary, it seems impossible, that what has hitherto\nescaped so many wise and profound philosophers can be very obvious and\neasy. And whatever pains these researches may cost us, we may think\nourselves sufficiently rewarded, not only in point of profit but of\npleasure, if, by that means, we can make any addition to our stock of\nknowledge, in subjects of such unspeakable importance.\n\nBut as, after all, the abstractedness of these speculations is no\nrecommendation, but rather a disadvantage to them, and as this\ndifficulty may perhaps be surmounted by care and art, and the avoiding\nof all unnecessary detail, we have, in the following enquiry, attempted\nto throw some light upon subjects, from which uncertainty has hitherto\ndeterred the wise, and obscurity the ignorant. Happy, if we can unite\nthe boundaries of the different species of philosophy, by reconciling\nprofound enquiry with clearness, and truth with novelty! And still more\nhappy, if, reasoning in this easy manner, we can undermine the\nfoundations of an abstruse philosophy, which seems to have hitherto\nserved only as a shelter to superstition, and a cover to absurdity\nand error!\n\n\n\nSECTION II.\n\nOF THE ORIGIN OF IDEAS.\n\n\n11. Every one will readily allow, that there is a considerable\ndifference between the perceptions of the mind, when a man feels the\npain of excessive heat, or the pleasure of moderate warmth, and when he\nafterwards recalls to his memory this sensation, or anticipates it by\nhis imagination. These faculties may mimic or copy the perceptions of\nthe senses; but they never can entirely reach the force and vivacity of\nthe original sentiment. The utmost we say of them, even when they\noperate with greatest vigour, is, that they represent their object in so\nlively a manner, that we could _almost_ say we feel or see it: But,\nexcept the mind be disordered by disease or madness, they never can\narrive at such a pitch of vivacity, as to render these perceptions\naltogether undistinguishable. All the colours of poetry, however\nsplendid, can never paint natural objects in such a manner as to make\nthe description be taken for a real landskip. The most lively thought is\nstill inferior to the dullest sensation.\n\nWe may observe a like distinction to run through all the other\nperceptions of the mind. A man in a fit of anger, is actuated in a very\ndifferent manner from one who only thinks of that emotion. If you tell\nme, that any person is in love, I easily understand your meaning, and\nform a just conception of his situation; but never can mistake that\nconception for the real disorders and agitations of the passion. When we\nreflect on our past sentiments and affections, our thought is a faithful\nmirror, and copies its objects truly; but the colours which it employs\nare faint and dull, in comparison of those in which our original\nperceptions were clothed. It requires no nice discernment or\nmetaphysical head to mark the distinction between them.\n\n12. Here therefore we may divide all the perceptions of the mind into\ntwo classes or species, which are distinguished by their different\ndegrees of force and vivacity. The less forcible and lively are commonly\ndenominated _Thoughts_ or _Ideas_. The other species want a name in our\nlanguage, and in most others; I suppose, because it was not requisite\nfor any, but philosophical purposes, to rank them under a general term\nor appellation. Let us, therefore, use a little freedom, and call them\n_Impressions_; employing that word in a sense somewhat different from\nthe usual. By the term _impression_, then, I mean all our more lively\nperceptions, when we hear, or see, or feel, or love, or hate, or desire,\nor will. And impressions are distinguished from ideas, which are the\nless lively perceptions, of which we are conscious, when we reflect on\nany of those sensations or movements above mentioned.\n\n13. Nothing, at first view, may seem more unbounded than the thought of\nman, which not only escapes all human power and authority, but is not\neven restrained within the limits of nature and reality. To form\nmonsters, and join incongruous shapes and appearances, costs the\nimagination no more trouble than to conceive the most natural and\nfamiliar objects. And while the body is confined to one planet, along\nwhich it creeps with pain and difficulty; the thought can in an instant\ntransport us into the most distant regions of the universe; or even\nbeyond the universe, into the unbounded chaos, where nature is supposed\nto lie in total confusion. What never was seen, or heard of, may yet be\nconceived; nor is any thing beyond the power of thought, except what\nimplies an absolute contradiction.\n\nBut though our thought seems to possess this unbounded liberty, we shall\nfind, upon a nearer examination, that it is really confined within very\nnarrow limits, and that all this creative power of the mind amounts to\nno more than the faculty of compounding, transposing, augmenting, or\ndiminishing the materials afforded us by the senses and experience. When\nwe think of a golden mountain, we only join two consistent ideas,\n_gold_, and _mountain_, with which we were formerly acquainted. A\nvirtuous horse we can conceive; because, from our own feeling, we can\nconceive virtue; and this we may unite to the figure and shape of a\nhorse, which is an animal familiar to us. In short, all the materials of\nthinking are derived either from our outward or inward sentiment: the\nmixture and composition of these belongs alone to the mind and will. Or,\nto express myself in philosophical language, all our ideas or more\nfeeble perceptions are copies of our impressions or more lively ones.\n\n14. To prove this, the two following arguments will, I hope, be\nsufficient. First, when we analyze our thoughts or ideas, however\ncompounded or sublime, we always find that they resolve themselves into\nsuch simple ideas as were copied from a precedent feeling or sentiment.\nEven those ideas, which, at first view, seem the most wide of this\norigin, are found, upon a nearer scrutiny, to be derived from it. The\nidea of God, as meaning an infinitely intelligent, wise, and good Being,\narises from reflecting on the operations of our own mind, and\naugmenting, without limit, those qualities of goodness and wisdom. We\nmay prosecute this enquiry to what length we please; where we shall\nalways find, that every idea which we examine is copied from a similar\nimpression. Those who would assert that this position is not universally\ntrue nor without exception, have only one, and that an easy method of\nrefuting it; by producing that idea, which, in their opinion, is not\nderived from this source. It will then be incumbent on us, if we would\nmaintain our doctrine, to produce the impression, or lively perception,\nwhich corresponds to it.\n\n15. Secondly. If it happen, from a defect of the organ, that a man is\nnot susceptible of any species of sensation, we always find that he is\nas little susceptible of the correspondent ideas. A blind man can form\nno notion of colours; a deaf man of sounds. Restore either of them that\nsense in which he is deficient; by opening this new inlet for his\nsensations, you also open an inlet for the ideas; and he finds no\ndifficulty in conceiving these objects. The case is the same, if the\nobject, proper for exciting any sensation, has never been applied to the\norgan. A Laplander or Negro has no notion of the relish of wine. And\nthough there are few or no instances of a like deficiency in the mind,\nwhere a person has never felt or is wholly incapable of a sentiment or\npassion that belongs to his species; yet we find the same observation to\ntake place in a less degree. A man of mild manners can form no idea of\ninveterate revenge or cruelty; nor can a selfish heart easily conceive\nthe heights of friendship and generosity. It is readily allowed, that\nother beings may possess many senses of which we can have no conception;\nbecause the ideas of them have never been introduced to us in the only\nmanner by which an idea can have access to the mind, to wit, by the\nactual feeling and sensation.\n\n16. There is, however, one contradictory phenomenon, which may prove\nthat it is not absolutely impossible for ideas to arise, independent of\ntheir correspondent impressions. I believe it will readily be allowed,\nthat the several distinct ideas of colour, which enter by the eye, or\nthose of sound, which are conveyed by the ear, are really different from\neach other; though, at the same time, resembling. Now if this be true of\ndifferent colours, it must be no less so of the different shades of the\nsame colour; and each shade produces a distinct idea, independent of the\nrest. For if this should be denied, it is possible, by the continual\ngradation of shades, to run a colour insensibly into what is most remote\nfrom it; and if you will not allow any of the means to be different, you\ncannot, without absurdity, deny the extremes to be the same. Suppose,\ntherefore, a person to have enjoyed his sight for thirty years, and to\nhave become perfectly acquainted with colours of all kinds except one\nparticular shade of blue, for instance, which it never has been his\nfortune to meet with. Let all the different shades of that colour,\nexcept that single one, be placed before him, descending gradually from\nthe deepest to the lightest; it is plain that he will perceive a blank,\nwhere that shade is wanting, and will be sensible that there is a\ngreater distance in that place between the contiguous colours than in\nany other. Now I ask, whether it be possible for him, from his own\nimagination, to supply this deficiency, and raise up to himself the idea\nof that particular shade, though it had never been conveyed to him by\nhis senses? I believe there are few but will be of opinion that he can:\nand this may serve as a proof that the simple ideas are not always, in\nevery instance, derived from the correspondent impressions; though this\ninstance is so singular, that it is scarcely worth our observing, and\ndoes not merit that for it alone we should alter our general maxim.\n\n17. Here, therefore, is a proposition, which not only seems, in itself,\nsimple and intelligible; but, if a proper use were made of it, might\nrender every dispute equally intelligible, and banish all that jargon,\nwhich has so long taken possession of metaphysical reasonings, and drawn\ndisgrace upon them. All ideas, especially abstract ones, are naturally\nfaint and obscure: the mind has but a slender hold of them: they are apt\nto be confounded with other resembling ideas; and when we have often\nemployed any term, though without a distinct meaning, we are apt to\nimagine it has a determinate idea annexed to it. On the contrary, all\nimpressions, that is, all sensations, either outward or inward, are\nstrong and vivid: the limits between them are more exactly determined:\nnor is it easy to fall into any error or mistake with regard to them.\nWhen we entertain, therefore, any suspicion that a philosophical term is\nemployed without any meaning or idea (as is but too frequent), we need\nbut enquire, _from what impression is that supposed idea derived_? And\nif it be impossible to assign any, this will serve to confirm our\nsuspicion. By bringing ideas into so clear a light we may reasonably\nhope to remove all dispute, which may arise, concerning their nature and\nreality.[1]\n\n    [1] It is probable that no more was meant by those, who denied\n    innate ideas, than that all ideas were copies of our\n    impressions; though it must be confessed, that the terms, which\n    they employed, were not chosen with such caution, nor so\n    exactly defined, as to prevent all mistakes about their\n    doctrine. For what is meant by _innate_? If innate be\n    equivalent to natural, then all the perceptions and ideas of\n    the mind must be allowed to be innate or natural, in whatever\n    sense we take the latter word, whether in opposition to what is\n    uncommon, artificial, or miraculous. If by innate be meant,\n    contemporary to our birth, the dispute seems to be frivolous;\n    nor is it worth while to enquire at what time thinking begins,\n    whether before, at, or after our birth. Again, the word _idea_,\n    seems to be commonly taken in a very loose sense, by LOCKE and\n    others; as standing for any of our perceptions, our sensations\n    and passions, as well as thoughts. Now in this sense, I should\n    desire to know, what can be meant by asserting, that self-love,\n    or resentment of injuries, or the passion between the sexes is\n    not innate?\n\n    But admitting these terms, _impressions_ and _ideas_, in the\n    sense above explained, and understanding by _innate_, what is\n    original or copied from no precedent perception, then may we\n    assert that all our impressions are innate, and our ideas\n    not innate.\n\n    To be ingenuous, I must own it to be my opinion, that LOCKE was\n    betrayed into this question by the schoolmen, who, making use\n    of undefined terms, draw out their disputes to a tedious\n    length, without ever touching the point in question. A like\n    ambiguity and circumlocution seem to run through that\n    philosopher's reasonings on this as well as most other\n    subjects.\n\n\n\nSECTION III.\n\nOF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS.\n\n\n18. It is evident that there is a principle of connexion between the\ndifferent thoughts or ideas of the mind, and that, in their appearance\nto the memory or imagination, they introduce each other with a certain\ndegree of method and regularity. In our more serious thinking or\ndiscourse this is so observable that any particular thought, which\nbreaks in upon the regular tract or chain of ideas, is immediately\nremarked and rejected. And even in our wildest and most wandering\nreveries, nay in our very dreams, we shall find, if we reflect, that the\nimagination ran not altogether at adventures, but that there was still a\nconnexion upheld among the different ideas, which succeeded each other.\nWere the loosest and freest conversation to be transcribed, there would\nimmediately be observed something which connected it in all its\ntransitions. Or where this is wanting, the person who broke the thread\nof discourse might still inform you, that there had secretly revolved in\nhis mind a succession of thought, which had gradually led him from the\nsubject of conversation. Among different languages, even where we cannot\nsuspect the least connexion or communication, it is found, that the\nwords, expressive of ideas, the most compounded, do yet nearly\ncorrespond to each other: a certain proof that the simple ideas,\ncomprehended in the compound ones, were bound together by some universal\nprinciple, which had an equal influence on all mankind.\n\n19. Though it be too obvious to escape observation, that different ideas\nare connected together; I do not find that any philosopher has attempted\nto enumerate or class all the principles of association; a subject,\nhowever, that seems worthy of curiosity. To me, there appear to be only\nthree principles of connexion among ideas, namely, _Resemblance_,\n_Contiguity_ in time or place, and _Cause or Effect_.\n\nThat these principles serve to connect ideas will not, I believe, be\nmuch doubted. A picture naturally leads our thoughts to the original[2]:\nthe mention of one apartment in a building naturally introduces an\nenquiry or discourse concerning the others[3]: and if we think of a\nwound, we can scarcely forbear reflecting on the pain which follows\nit[4]. But that this enumeration is complete, and that there are no\nother principles of association except these, may be difficult to prove\nto the satisfaction of the reader, or even to a man's own satisfaction.\nAll we can do, in such cases, is to run over several instances, and\nexamine carefully the principle which binds the different thoughts to\neach other, never stopping till we render the principle as general as\npossible[5]. The more instances we examine, and the more care we employ,\nthe more assurance shall we acquire, that the enumeration, which we form\nfrom the whole, is complete and entire.\n\n    [2] Resemblance.\n\n    [3] Contiguity.\n\n    [4] Cause and effect.\n\n    [5] For instance, Contrast or Contrariety is also a connexion\n    among Ideas: but it may, perhaps, be considered as a mixture of\n    _Causation_ and _Resemblance_. Where two objects are contrary,\n    the one destroys the other; that is, the cause of its\n    annihilation, and the idea of the annihilation of an object,\n    implies the idea of its former existence.\n\n\n\nSECTION IV.\n\nSCEPTICAL DOUBTS CONCERNING THE OPERATIONS OF THE UNDERSTANDING.\n\n\nPART I.\n\n\n20. All the objects of human reason or enquiry may naturally be divided\ninto two kinds, to wit, _Relations of Ideas_, and _Matters of Fact_. Of\nthe first kind are the sciences of Geometry, Algebra, and Arithmetic;\nand in short, every affirmation which is either intuitively or\ndemonstratively certain. _That the square of the hypothenuse is equal to\nthe square of the two sides_, is a proposition which expresses a\nrelation between these figures. _That three times five is equal to the\nhalf of thirty_, expresses a relation between these numbers.\nPropositions of this kind are discoverable by the mere operation of\nthought, without dependence on what is anywhere existent in the\nuniverse. Though there never were a circle or triangle in nature, the\ntruths demonstrated by Euclid would for ever retain their certainty\nand evidence.\n\n21. Matters of fact, which are the second objects of human reason, are\nnot ascertained in the same manner; nor is our evidence of their truth,\nhowever great, of a like nature with the foregoing. The contrary of\nevery matter of fact is still possible; because it can never imply a\ncontradiction, and is conceived by the mind with the same facility and\ndistinctness, as if ever so conformable to reality. _That the sun will\nnot rise to-morrow_ is no less intelligible a proposition, and implies\nno more contradiction than the affirmation, _that it will rise_. We\nshould in vain, therefore, attempt to demonstrate its falsehood. Were it\ndemonstratively false, it would imply a contradiction, and could never\nbe distinctly conceived by the mind.\n\nIt may, therefore, be a subject worthy of curiosity, to enquire what is\nthe nature of that evidence which assures us of any real existence and\nmatter of fact, beyond the present testimony of our senses, or the\nrecords of our memory. This part of philosophy, it is observable, has\nbeen little cultivated, either by the ancients or moderns; and therefore\nour doubts and errors, in the prosecution of so important an enquiry,\nmay be the more excusable; while we march through such difficult paths\nwithout any guide or direction. They may even prove useful, by exciting\ncuriosity, and destroying that implicit faith and security, which is the\nbane of all reasoning and free enquiry. The discovery of defects in the\ncommon philosophy, if any such there be, will not, I presume, be a\ndiscouragement, but rather an incitement, as is usual, to attempt\nsomething more full and satisfactory than has yet been proposed to\nthe public.\n\n22. All reasonings concerning matter of fact seem to be founded on the\nrelation of _Cause and Effect_. By means of that relation alone we can\ngo beyond the evidence of our memory and senses. If you were to ask a\nman, why he believes any matter of fact, which is absent; for instance,\nthat his friend is in the country, or in France; he would give you a\nreason; and this reason would be some other fact; as a letter received\nfrom him, or the knowledge of his former resolutions and promises. A man\nfinding a watch or any other machine in a desert island, would conclude\nthat there had once been men in that island. All our reasonings\nconcerning fact are of the same nature. And here it is constantly\nsupposed that there is a connexion between the present fact and that\nwhich is inferred from it. Were there nothing to bind them together, the\ninference would be entirely precarious. The hearing of an articulate\nvoice and rational discourse in the dark assures us of the presence of\nsome person: Why? because these are the effects of the human make and\nfabric, and closely connected with it. If we anatomize all the other\nreasonings of this nature, we shall find that they are founded on the\nrelation of cause and effect, and that this relation is either near or\nremote, direct or collateral. Heat and light are collateral effects of\nfire, and the one effect may justly be inferred from the other.\n\n23. If we would satisfy ourselves, therefore, concerning the nature of\nthat evidence, which assures us of matters of fact, we must enquire how\nwe arrive at the knowledge of cause and effect.\n\nI shall venture to affirm, as a general proposition, which admits of no\nexception, that the knowledge of this relation is not, in any instance,\nattained by reasonings _a priori_; but arises entirely from experience,\nwhen we find that any particular objects are constantly conjoined with\neach other. Let an object be presented to a man of ever so strong\nnatural reason and abilities; if that object be entirely new to him, he\nwill not be able, by the most accurate examination of its sensible\nqualities, to discover any of its causes or effects. Adam, though his\nrational faculties be supposed, at the very first, entirely perfect,\ncould not have inferred from the fluidity and transparency of water that\nit would suffocate him, or from the light and warmth of fire that it\nwould consume him. No object ever discovers, by the qualities which\nappear to the senses, either the causes which produced it, or the\neffects which will arise from it; nor can our reason, unassisted by\nexperience, ever draw any inference concerning real existence and\nmatter of fact.\n\n24. This proposition, _that causes and effects are discoverable, not by\nreason but by experience_, will readily be admitted with regard to such\nobjects, as we remember to have once been altogether unknown to us;\nsince we must be conscious of the utter inability, which we then lay\nunder, of foretelling what would arise from them. Present two smooth\npieces of marble to a man who has no tincture of natural philosophy; he\nwill never discover that they will adhere together in such a manner as\nto require great force to separate them in a direct line, while they\nmake so small a resistance to a lateral pressure. Such events, as bear\nlittle analogy to the common course of nature, are also readily\nconfessed to be known only by experience; nor does any man imagine that\nthe explosion of gunpowder, or the attraction of a loadstone, could ever\nbe discovered by arguments _a priori_. In like manner, when an effect is\nsupposed to depend upon an intricate machinery or secret structure of\nparts, we make no difficulty in attributing all our knowledge of it to\nexperience. Who will assert that he can give the ultimate reason, why\nmilk or bread is proper nourishment for a man, not for a lion or\na tiger?\n\nBut the same truth may not appear, at first sight, to have the same\nevidence with regard to events, which have become familiar to us from\nour first appearance in the world, which bear a close analogy to the\nwhole course of nature, and which are supposed to depend on the simple\nqualities of objects, without any secret structure of parts. We are apt\nto imagine that we could discover these effects by the mere operation of\nour reason, without experience. We fancy, that were we brought on a\nsudden into this world, we could at first have inferred that one\nBilliard-ball would communicate motion to another upon impulse; and that\nwe needed not to have waited for the event, in order to pronounce with\ncertainty concerning it. Such is the influence of custom, that, where it\nis strongest, it not only covers our natural ignorance, but even\nconceals itself, and seems not to take place, merely because it is found\nin the highest degree.\n\n25. But to convince us that all the laws of nature, and all the\noperations of bodies without exception, are known only by experience,\nthe following reflections may, perhaps, suffice. Were any object\npresented to us, and were we required to pronounce concerning the\neffect, which will result from it, without consulting past observation;\nafter what manner, I beseech you, must the mind proceed in this\noperation? It must invent or imagine some event, which it ascribes to\nthe object as its effect; and it is plain that this invention must be\nentirely arbitrary. The mind can never possibly find the effect in the\nsupposed cause, by the most accurate scrutiny and examination. For the\neffect is totally different from the cause, and consequently can never\nbe discovered in it. Motion in the second Billiard-ball is a quite\ndistinct event from motion in the first; nor is there anything in the\none to suggest the smallest hint of the other. A stone or piece of metal\nraised into the air, and left without any support, immediately falls:\nbut to consider the matter _a priori_, is there anything we discover in\nthis situation which can beget the idea of a downward, rather than an\nupward, or any other motion, in the stone or metal? And as the first\nimagination or invention of a particular effect, in all natural\noperations, is arbitrary, where we consult not experience; so must we\nalso esteem the supposed tie or connexion between the cause and effect,\nwhich binds them together, and renders it impossible that any other\neffect could result from the operation of that cause. When I see, for\ninstance, a Billiard-ball moving in a straight line towards another;\neven suppose motion in the second ball should by accident be suggested\nto me, as the result of their contact or impulse; may I not conceive,\nthat a hundred different events might as well follow from that cause?\nMay not both these balls remain at absolute rest? May not the first ball\nreturn in a straight line, or leap off from the second in any line or\ndirection? All these suppositions are consistent and conceivable. Why\nthen should we give the preference to one, which is no more consistent\nor conceivable than the rest? All our reasonings _a priori_ will never\nbe able to show us any foundation for this preference.\n\nIn a word, then, every effect is a distinct event from its cause. It\ncould not, therefore, be discovered in the cause, and the first\ninvention or conception of it, _a priori_, must be entirely arbitrary.\nAnd even after it is suggested, the conjunction of it with the cause\nmust appear equally arbitrary; since there are always many other\neffects, which, to reason, must seem fully as consistent and natural. In\nvain, therefore, should we pretend to determine any single event, or\ninfer any cause or effect, without the assistance of observation and\nexperience.\n\n26. Hence we may discover the reason why no philosopher, who is rational\nand modest, has ever pretended to assign the ultimate cause of any\nnatural operation, or to show distinctly the action of that power, which\nproduces any single effect in the universe. It is confessed, that the\nutmost effort of human reason is to reduce the principles, productive of\nnatural phenomena, to a greater simplicity, and to resolve the many\nparticular effects into a few general causes, by means of reasonings\nfrom analogy, experience, and observation. But as to the causes of these\ngeneral causes, we should in vain attempt their discovery; nor shall we\never be able to satisfy ourselves, by any particular explication of\nthem. These ultimate springs and principles are totally shut up from\nhuman curiosity and enquiry. Elasticity, gravity, cohesion of parts,\ncommunication of motion by impulse; these are probably the ultimate\ncauses and principles which we shall ever discover in nature; and we may\nesteem ourselves sufficiently happy, if, by accurate enquiry and\nreasoning, we can trace up the particular phenomena to, or near to,\nthese general principles. The most perfect philosophy of the natural\nkind only staves off our ignorance a little longer: as perhaps the most\nperfect philosophy of the moral or metaphysical kind serves only to\ndiscover larger portions of it. Thus the observation of human blindness\nand weakness is the result of all philosophy, and meets us at every\nturn, in spite of our endeavours to elude or avoid it.\n\n27. Nor is geometry, when taken into the assistance of natural\nphilosophy, ever able to remedy this defect, or lead us into the\nknowledge of ultimate causes, by all that accuracy of reasoning for\nwhich it is so justly celebrated. Every part of mixed mathematics\nproceeds upon the supposition that certain laws are established by\nnature in her operations; and abstract reasonings are employed, either\nto assist experience in the discovery of these laws, or to determine\ntheir influence in particular instances, where it depends upon any\nprecise degree of distance and quantity. Thus, it is a law of motion,\ndiscovered by experience, that the moment or force of any body in motion\nis in the compound ratio or proportion of its solid contents and its\nvelocity; and consequently, that a small force may remove the greatest\nobstacle or raise the greatest weight, if, by any contrivance or\nmachinery, we can increase the velocity of that force, so as to make it\nan overmatch for its antagonist. Geometry assists us in the application\nof this law, by giving us the just dimensions of all the parts and\nfigures which can enter into any species of machine; but still the\ndiscovery of the law itself is owing merely to experience, and all the\nabstract reasonings in the world could never lead us one step towards\nthe knowledge of it. When we reason _a priori_, and consider merely any\nobject or cause, as it appears to the mind, independent of all\nobservation, it never could suggest to us the notion of any distinct\nobject, such as its effect; much less, show us the inseparable and\ninviolable connexion between them. A man must be very sagacious who\ncould discover by reasoning that crystal is the effect of heat, and ice\nof cold, without being previously acquainted with the operation of these\nqualities.\n\n\nPART II.\n\n\n28. But we have not yet attained any tolerable satisfaction with regard\nto the question first proposed. Each solution still gives rise to a new\nquestion as difficult as the foregoing, and leads us on to farther\nenquiries. When it is asked, _What is the nature of all our reasonings\nconcerning matter of fact?_ the proper answer seems to be, that they are\nfounded on the relation of cause and effect. When again it is asked,\n_What is the foundation of all our reasonings and conclusions concerning\nthat relation?_ it may be replied in one word, Experience. But if we\nstill carry on our sifting humour, and ask, _What is the foundation of\nall conclusions from experience?_ this implies a new question, which may\nbe of more difficult solution and explication. Philosophers, that give\nthemselves airs of superior wisdom and sufficiency, have a hard task\nwhen they encounter persons of inquisitive dispositions, who push them\nfrom every corner to which they retreat, and who are sure at last to\nbring them to some dangerous dilemma. The best expedient to prevent this\nconfusion, is to be modest in our pretensions; and even to discover the\ndifficulty ourselves before it is objected to us. By this means, we may\nmake a kind of merit of our very ignorance.\n\nI shall content myself, in this section, with an easy task, and shall\npretend only to give a negative answer to the question here proposed. I\nsay then, that, even after we have experience of the operations of cause\nand effect, our conclusions from that experience are _not_ founded on\nreasoning, or any process of the understanding. This answer we must\nendeavour both to explain and to defend.\n\n29. It must certainly be allowed, that nature has kept us at a great\ndistance from all her secrets, and has afforded us only the knowledge of\na few superficial qualities of objects; while she conceals from us those\npowers and principles on which the influence of those objects entirely\ndepends. Our senses inform us of the colour, weight, and consistence of\nbread; but neither sense nor reason can ever inform us of those\nqualities which fit it for the nourishment and support of a human body.\nSight or feeling conveys an idea of the actual motion of bodies; but as\nto that wonderful force or power, which would carry on a moving body for\never in a continued change of place, and which bodies never lose but by\ncommunicating it to others; of this we cannot form the most distant\nconception. But notwithstanding this ignorance of natural powers[6] and\nprinciples, we always presume, when we see like sensible qualities, that\nthey have like secret powers, and expect that effects, similar to those\nwhich we have experienced, will follow from them. If a body of like\ncolour and consistence with that bread, which we have formerly eat, be\npresented to us, we make no scruple of repeating the experiment, and\nforesee, with certainty, like nourishment and support. Now this is a\nprocess of the mind or thought, of which I would willingly know the\nfoundation. It is allowed on all hands that there is no known connexion\nbetween the sensible qualities and the secret powers; and consequently,\nthat the mind is not led to form such a conclusion concerning their\nconstant and regular conjunction, by anything which it knows of their\nnature. As to past _Experience_, it can be allowed to give _direct_ and\n_certain_ information of those precise objects only, and that precise\nperiod of time, which fell under its cognizance: but why this experience\nshould be extended to future times, and to other objects, which for\naught we know, may be only in appearance similar; this is the main\nquestion on which I would insist. The bread, which I formerly eat,\nnourished me; that is, a body of such sensible qualities was, at that\ntime, endued with such secret powers: but does it follow, that other\nbread must also nourish me at another time, and that like sensible\nqualities must always be attended with like secret powers? The\nconsequence seems nowise necessary. At least, it must be acknowledged\nthat there is here a consequence drawn by the mind; that there is a\ncertain step taken; a process of thought, and an inference, which wants\nto be explained. These two propositions are far from being the same, _I\nhave found that such an object has always been attended with such an\neffect_, and _I foresee, that other objects, which are, in appearance,\nsimilar, will be attended with similar effects_. I shall allow, if you\nplease, that the one proposition may justly be inferred from the other:\nI know, in fact, that it always is inferred. But if you insist that the\ninference is made by a chain of reasoning, I desire you to produce that\nreasoning. The connexion between these propositions is not intuitive.\nThere is required a medium, which may enable the mind to draw such an\ninference, if indeed it be drawn by reasoning and argument. What that\nmedium is, I must confess, passes my comprehension; and it is incumbent\non those to produce it, who assert that it really exists, and is the\norigin of all our conclusions concerning matter of fact.\n\n    [6] The word, Power, is here used in a loose and popular sense.\n    The more accurate explication of it would give additional\n    evidence to this argument. See Sect. 7.\n\n30. This negative argument must certainly, in process of time, become\naltogether convincing, if many penetrating and able philosophers shall\nturn their enquiries this way and no one be ever able to discover any\nconnecting proposition or intermediate step, which supports the\nunderstanding in this conclusion. But as the question is yet new, every\nreader may not trust so far to his own penetration, as to conclude,\nbecause an argument escapes his enquiry, that therefore it does not\nreally exist. For this reason it may be requisite to venture upon a more\ndifficult task; and enumerating all the branches of human knowledge,\nendeavour to show that none of them can afford such an argument.\n\nAll reasonings may be divided into two kinds, namely, demonstrative\nreasoning, or that concerning relations of ideas, and moral reasoning,\nor that concerning matter of fact and existence. That there are no\ndemonstrative arguments in the case seems evident; since it implies no\ncontradiction that the course of nature may change, and that an object,\nseemingly like those which we have experienced, may be attended with\ndifferent or contrary effects. May I not clearly and distinctly conceive\nthat a body, falling from the clouds, and which, in all other respects,\nresembles snow, has yet the taste of salt or feeling of fire? Is there\nany more intelligible proposition than to affirm, that all the trees\nwill flourish in December and January, and decay in May and June? Now\nwhatever is intelligible, and can be distinctly conceived, implies no\ncontradiction, and can never be proved false by any demonstrative\nargument or abstract reasoning _a priori_.\n\nIf we be, therefore, engaged by arguments to put trust in past\nexperience, and make it the standard of our future judgement, these\narguments must be probable only, or such as regard matter of fact and\nreal existence, according to the division above mentioned. But that\nthere is no argument of this kind, must appear, if our explication of\nthat species of reasoning be admitted as solid and satisfactory. We have\nsaid that all arguments concerning existence are founded on the relation\nof cause and effect; that our knowledge of that relation is derived\nentirely from experience; and that all our experimental conclusions\nproceed upon the supposition that the future will be conformable to the\npast. To endeavour, therefore, the proof of this last supposition by\nprobable arguments, or arguments regarding existence, must be evidently\ngoing in a circle, and taking that for granted, which is the very point\nin question.\n\n31. In reality, all arguments from experience are founded on the\nsimilarity which we discover among natural objects, and by which we are\ninduced to expect effects similar to those which we have found to follow\nfrom such objects. And though none but a fool or madman will ever\npretend to dispute the authority of experience, or to reject that great\nguide of human life, it may surely be allowed a philosopher to have so\nmuch curiosity at least as to examine the principle of human nature,\nwhich gives this mighty authority to experience, and makes us draw\nadvantage from that similarity which nature has placed among different\nobjects. From causes which appear _similar_ we expect similar effects.\nThis is the sum of all our experimental conclusions. Now it seems\nevident that, if this conclusion were formed by reason, it would be as\nperfect at first, and upon one instance, as after ever so long a course\nof experience. But the case is far otherwise. Nothing so like as eggs;\nyet no one, on account of this appearing similarity, expects the same\ntaste and relish in all of them. It is only after a long course of\nuniform experiments in any kind, that we attain a firm reliance and\nsecurity with regard to a particular event. Now where is that process of\nreasoning which, from one instance, draws a conclusion, so different\nfrom that which it infers from a hundred instances that are nowise\ndifferent from that single one? This question I propose as much for the\nsake of information, as with an intention of raising difficulties. I\ncannot find, I cannot imagine any such reasoning. But I keep my mind\nstill open to instruction, if any one will vouchsafe to bestow it on me.\n\n32. Should it be said that, from a number of uniform experiments, we\n_infer_ a connexion between the sensible qualities and the secret\npowers; this, I must confess, seems the same difficulty, couched in\ndifferent terms. The question still recurs, on what process of argument\nthis _inference_ is founded? Where is the medium, the interposing ideas,\nwhich join propositions so very wide of each other? It is confessed that\nthe colour, consistence, and other sensible qualities of bread appear\nnot, of themselves, to have any connexion with the secret powers of\nnourishment and support. For otherwise we could infer these secret\npowers from the first appearance of these sensible qualities, without\nthe aid of experience; contrary to the sentiment of all philosophers,\nand contrary to plain matter of fact. Here, then, is our natural state\nof ignorance with regard to the powers and influence of all objects. How\nis this remedied by experience? It only shows us a number of uniform\neffects, resulting from certain objects, and teaches us that those\nparticular objects, at that particular time, were endowed with such\npowers and forces. When a new object, endowed with similar sensible\nqualities, is produced, we expect similar powers and forces, and look\nfor a like effect. From a body of like colour and consistence with bread\nwe expect like nourishment and support. But this surely is a step or\nprogress of the mind, which wants to be explained. When a man says, _I\nhave found, in all past instances, such sensible qualities conjoined\nwith such secret powers_: And when he says, _Similar sensible qualities\nwill always be conjoined with similar secret powers_, he is not guilty\nof a tautology, nor are these propositions in any respect the same. You\nsay that the one proposition is an inference from the other. But you\nmust confess that the inference is not intuitive; neither is it\ndemonstrative: Of what nature is it, then? To say it is experimental, is\nbegging the question. For all inferences from experience suppose, as\ntheir foundation, that the future will resemble the past, and that\nsimilar powers will be conjoined with similar sensible qualities. If\nthere be any suspicion that the course of nature may change, and that\nthe past may be no rule for the future, all experience becomes useless,\nand can give rise to no inference or conclusion. It is impossible,\ntherefore, that any arguments from experience can prove this resemblance\nof the past to the future; since all these arguments are founded on the\nsupposition of that resemblance. Let the course of things be allowed\nhitherto ever so regular; that alone, without some new argument or\ninference, proves not that, for the future, it will continue so. In vain\ndo you pretend to have learned the nature of bodies from your past\nexperience. Their secret nature, and consequently all their effects and\ninfluence, may change, without any change in their sensible qualities.\nThis happens sometimes, and with regard to some objects: Why may it not\nhappen always, and with regard to all objects? What logic, what process\nof argument secures you against this supposition? My practice, you say,\nrefutes my doubts. But you mistake the purport of my question. As an\nagent, I am quite satisfied in the point; but as a philosopher, who has\nsome share of curiosity, I will not say scepticism, I want to learn the\nfoundation of this inference. No reading, no enquiry has yet been able\nto remove my difficulty, or give me satisfaction in a matter of such\nimportance. Can I do better than propose the difficulty to the public,\neven though, perhaps, I have small hopes of obtaining a solution? We\nshall at least, by this means, be sensible of our ignorance, if we do\nnot augment our knowledge.\n\n33. I must confess that a man is guilty of unpardonable arrogance who\nconcludes, because an argument has escaped his own investigation, that\ntherefore it does not really exist. I must also confess that, though all\nthe learned, for several ages, should have employed themselves in\nfruitless search upon any subject, it may still, perhaps, be rash to\nconclude positively that the subject must, therefore, pass all human\ncomprehension. Even though we examine all the sources of our knowledge,\nand conclude them unfit for such a subject, there may still remain a\nsuspicion, that the enumeration is not complete, or the examination not\naccurate. But with regard to the present subject, there are some\nconsiderations which seem to remove all this accusation of arrogance or\nsuspicion of mistake.\n\nIt is certain that the most ignorant and stupid peasants--nay infants,\nnay even brute beasts--improve by experience, and learn the qualities of\nnatural objects, by observing the effects which result from them. When a\nchild has felt the sensation of pain from touching the flame of a\ncandle, he will be careful not to put his hand near any candle; but will\nexpect a similar effect from a cause which is similar in its sensible\nqualities and appearance. If you assert, therefore, that the\nunderstanding of the child is led into this conclusion by any process of\nargument or ratiocination, I may justly require you to produce that\nargument; nor have you any pretence to refuse so equitable a demand. You\ncannot say that the argument is abstruse, and may possibly escape your\nenquiry; since you confess that it is obvious to the capacity of a mere\ninfant. If you hesitate, therefore, a moment, or if, after reflection,\nyou produce any intricate or profound argument, you, in a manner, give\nup the question, and confess that it is not reasoning which engages us\nto suppose the past resembling the future, and to expect similar effects\nfrom causes which are, to appearance, similar. This is the proposition\nwhich I intended to enforce in the present section. If I be right, I\npretend not to have made any mighty discovery. And if I be wrong, I must\nacknowledge myself to be indeed a very backward scholar; since I cannot\nnow discover an argument which, it seems, was perfectly familiar to me\nlong before I was out of my cradle.\n\n\n\nSECTION V.\n\nSCEPTICAL SOLUTION OF THESE DOUBTS.\n\n\nPART I.\n\n\n34. The passion for philosophy, like that for religion, seems liable to\nthis inconvenience, that, though it aims at the correction of our\nmanners, and extirpation of our vices, it may only serve, by imprudent\nmanagement, to foster a predominant inclination, and push the mind, with\nmore determined resolution, towards that side which already _draws_ too\nmuch, by the bias and propensity of the natural temper. It is certain\nthat, while we aspire to the magnanimous firmness of the philosophic\nsage, and endeavour to confine our pleasures altogether within our own\nminds, we may, at last, render our philosophy like that of Epictetus,\nand other _Stoics_, only a more refined system of selfishness, and\nreason ourselves out of all virtue as well as social enjoyment. While we\nstudy with attention the vanity of human life, and turn all our thoughts\ntowards the empty and transitory nature of riches and honours, we are,\nperhaps, all the while flattering our natural indolence, which, hating\nthe bustle of the world, and drudgery of business, seeks a pretence of\nreason to give itself a full and uncontrolled indulgence. There is,\nhowever, one species of philosophy which seems little liable to this\ninconvenience, and that because it strikes in with no disorderly passion\nof the human mind, nor can mingle itself with any natural affection or\npropensity; and that is the Academic or Sceptical philosophy. The\nacademics always talk of doubt and suspense of judgement, of danger in\nhasty determinations, of confining to very narrow bounds the enquiries\nof the understanding, and of renouncing all speculations which lie not\nwithin the limits of common life and practice. Nothing, therefore, can\nbe more contrary than such a philosophy to the supine indolence of the\nmind, its rash arrogance, its lofty pretensions, and its superstitious\ncredulity. Every passion is mortified by it, except the love of truth;\nand that passion never is, nor can be, carried to too high a degree. It\nis surprising, therefore, that this philosophy, which, in almost every\ninstance, must be harmless and innocent, should be the subject of so\nmuch groundless reproach and obloquy. But, perhaps, the very\ncircumstance which renders it so innocent is what chiefly exposes it to\nthe public hatred and resentment. By flattering no irregular passion, it\ngains few partizans: By opposing so many vices and follies, it raises to\nitself abundance of enemies, who stigmatize it as libertine profane, and\nirreligious.\n\nNor need we fear that this philosophy, while it endeavours to limit our\nenquiries to common life, should ever undermine the reasonings of common\nlife, and carry its doubts so far as to destroy all action, as well as\nspeculation. Nature will always maintain her rights, and prevail in the\nend over any abstract reasoning whatsoever. Though we should conclude,\nfor instance, as in the foregoing section, that, in all reasonings from\nexperience, there is a step taken by the mind which is not supported by\nany argument or process of the understanding; there is no danger that\nthese reasonings, on which almost all knowledge depends, will ever be\naffected by such a discovery. If the mind be not engaged by argument to\nmake this step, it must be induced by some other principle of equal\nweight and authority; and that principle will preserve its influence as\nlong as human nature remains the same. What that principle is may well\nbe worth the pains of enquiry.\n\n35. Suppose a person, though endowed with the strongest faculties of\nreason and reflection, to be brought on a sudden into this world; he\nwould, indeed, immediately observe a continual succession of objects,\nand one event following another; but he would not be able to discover\nanything farther. He would not, at first, by any reasoning, be able to\nreach the idea of cause and effect; since the particular powers, by\nwhich all natural operations are performed, never appear to the senses;\nnor is it reasonable to conclude, merely because one event, in one\ninstance, precedes another, that therefore the one is the cause, the\nother the effect. Their conjunction may be arbitrary and casual. There\nmay be no reason to infer the existence of one from the appearance of\nthe other. And in a word, such a person, without more experience, could\nnever employ his conjecture or reasoning concerning any matter of fact,\nor be assured of anything beyond what was immediately present to his\nmemory and senses.\n\nSuppose, again, that he has acquired more experience, and has lived so\nlong in the world as to have observed familiar objects or events to be\nconstantly conjoined together; what is the consequence of this\nexperience? He immediately infers the existence of one object from the\nappearance of the other. Yet he has not, by all his experience, acquired\nany idea or knowledge of the secret power by which the one object\nproduces the other; nor is it, by any process of reasoning, he is\nengaged to draw this inference. But still he finds himself determined to\ndraw it: And though he should be convinced that his understanding has no\npart in the operation, he would nevertheless continue in the same course\nof thinking. There is some other principle which determines him to form\nsuch a conclusion.\n\n36. This principle is Custom or Habit. For wherever the repetition of\nany particular act or operation produces a propensity to renew the same\nact or operation, without being impelled by any reasoning or process of\nthe understanding, we always say, that this propensity is the effect of\n_Custom_. By employing that word, we pretend not to have given the\nultimate reason of such a propensity. We only point out a principle of\nhuman nature, which is universally acknowledged, and which is well known\nby its effects. Perhaps we can push our enquiries no farther, or pretend\nto give the cause of this cause; but must rest contented with it as the\nultimate principle, which we can assign, of all our conclusions from\nexperience. It is sufficient satisfaction, that we can go so far,\nwithout repining at the narrowness of our faculties because they will\ncarry us no farther. And it is certain we here advance a very\nintelligible proposition at least, if not a true one, when we assert\nthat, after the constant conjunction of two objects--heat and flame, for\ninstance, weight and solidity--we are determined by custom alone to\nexpect the one from the appearance of the other. This hypothesis seems\neven the only one which explains the difficulty, why we draw, from a\nthousand instances, an inference which we are not able to draw from one\ninstance, that is, in no respect, different from them. Reason is\nincapable of any such variation. The conclusions which it draws from\nconsidering one circle are the same which it would form upon surveying\nall the circles in the universe. But no man, having seen only one body\nmove after being impelled by another, could infer that every other body\nwill move after a like impulse. All inferences from experience,\ntherefore, are effects of custom, not of reasoning[7].\n\n    [7] Nothing is more useful than for writers, even, on _moral_,\n    _political_, or _physical_ subjects, to distinguish between\n    _reason_ and _experience_, and to suppose, that these species\n    of argumentation are entirely different from each other. The\n    former are taken for the mere result of our intellectual\n    faculties, which, by considering _a priori_ the nature of\n    things, and examining the effects, that must follow from their\n    operation, establish particular principles of science and\n    philosophy. The latter are supposed to be derived entirely from\n    sense and observation, by which we learn what has actually\n    resulted from the operation of particular objects, and are\n    thence able to infer, what will, for the future, result from\n    them. Thus, for instance, the limitations and restraints of\n    civil government, and a legal constitution, may be defended,\n    either from _reason_, which reflecting on the great frailty and\n    corruption of human nature, teaches, that no man can safely be\n    trusted with unlimited authority; or from _experience_ and\n    history, which inform us of the enormous abuses, that ambition,\n    in every age and country, has been found to make of so\n    imprudent a confidence.\n\n    The same distinction between reason and experience is\n    maintained in all our deliberations concerning the conduct of\n    life; while the experienced statesman, general, physician, or\n    merchant is trusted and followed; and the unpractised novice,\n    with whatever natural talents endowed, neglected and despised.\n    Though it be allowed, that reason may form very plausible\n    conjectures with regard to the consequences of such a\n    particular conduct in such particular circumstances; it is\n    still supposed imperfect, without the assistance of experience,\n    which is alone able to give stability and certainty to the\n    maxims, derived from study and reflection.\n\n    But notwithstanding that this distinction be thus universally\n    received, both in the active speculative scenes of life, I\n    shall not scruple to pronounce, that it is, at bottom,\n    erroneous, at least, superficial.\n\n    If we examine those arguments, which, in any of the sciences\n    above mentioned, are supposed to be the mere effects of\n    reasoning and reflection, they will be found to terminate, at\n    last, in some general principle or conclusion, for which we can\n    assign no reason but observation and experience. The only\n    difference between them and those maxims, which are vulgarly\n    esteemed the result of pure experience, is, that the former\n    cannot be established without some process of thought, and some\n    reflection on what we have observed, in order to distinguish\n    its circumstances, and trace its consequences: Whereas in the\n    latter, the experienced event is exactly and fully familiar to\n    that which we infer as the result of any particular situation.\n    The history of a TIBERIUS or a NERO makes us dread a like\n    tyranny, were our monarchs freed from the restraints of laws\n    and senates: But the observation of any fraud or cruelty in\n    private life is sufficient, with the aid of a little thought,\n    to give us the same apprehension; while it serves as an\n    instance of the general corruption of human nature, and shows\n    us the danger which we must incur by reposing an entire\n    confidence in mankind. In both cases, it is experience which is\n    ultimately the foundation of our inference and conclusion.\n\n    There is no man so young and unexperienced, as not to have\n    formed, from observation, many general and just maxims\n    concerning human affairs and the conduct of life; but it must\n    be confessed, that, when a man comes to put these in practice,\n    he will be extremely liable to error, till time and farther\n    experience both enlarge these maxims, and teach him their\n    proper use and application. In every situation or incident,\n    there are many particular and seemingly minute circumstances,\n    which the man of greatest talent is, at first, apt to overlook,\n    though on them the justness of his conclusions, and\n    consequently the prudence of his conduct, entirely depend. Not\n    to mention, that, to a young beginner, the general observations\n    and maxims occur not always on the proper occasions, nor can be\n    immediately applied with due calmness and distinction. The\n    truth is, an unexperienced reasoner could be no reasoner at\n    all, were he absolutely unexperienced; and when we assign that\n    character to any one, we mean it only in a comparative sense,\n    and suppose him possessed of experience, in a smaller and more\n    imperfect degree.\n\nCustom, then, is the great guide of human life. It is that principle\nalone which renders our experience useful to us, and makes us expect,\nfor the future, a similar train of events with those which have appeared\nin the past.\n\nWithout the influence of custom, we should be entirely ignorant of every\nmatter of fact beyond what is immediately present to the memory and\nsenses. We should never know how to adjust means to ends, or to employ\nour natural powers in the production of any effect. There would be an\nend at once of all action, as well as of the chief part of speculation.\n\n37. But here it may be proper to remark, that though our conclusions\nfrom experience carry us beyond our memory and senses, and assure us of\nmatters of fact which happened in the most distant places and most\nremote ages, yet some fact must always be present to the senses or\nmemory, from which we may first proceed in drawing these conclusions. A\nman, who should find in a desert country the remains of pompous\nbuildings, would conclude that the country had, in ancient times, been\ncultivated by civilized inhabitants; but did nothing of this nature\noccur to him, he could never form such an inference. We learn the events\nof former ages from history; but then we must peruse the volumes in\nwhich this instruction is contained, and thence carry up our inferences\nfrom one testimony to another, till we arrive at the eyewitnesses and\nspectators of these distant events. In a word, if we proceed not upon\nsome fact, present to the memory or senses, our reasonings would be\nmerely hypothetical; and however the particular links might be connected\nwith each other, the whole chain of inferences would have nothing to\nsupport it, nor could we ever, by its means, arrive at the knowledge of\nany real existence. If I ask why you believe any particular matter of\nfact, which you relate, you must tell me some reason; and this reason\nwill be some other fact, connected with it. But as you cannot proceed\nafter this manner, _in infinitum_, you must at last terminate in some\nfact, which is present to your memory or senses; or must allow that your\nbelief is entirely without foundation.\n\n38. What, then, is the conclusion of the whole matter? A simple one;\nthough, it must be confessed, pretty remote from the common theories of\nphilosophy. All belief of matter of fact or real existence is derived\nmerely from some object, present to the memory or senses, and a\ncustomary conjunction between that and some other object. Or in other\nwords; having found, in many instances, that any two kinds of\nobjects--flame and heat, snow and cold--have always been conjoined\ntogether; if flame or snow be presented anew to the senses, the mind is\ncarried by custom to expect heat or cold, and to _believe_ that such a\nquality does exist, and will discover itself upon a nearer approach.\nThis belief is the necessary result of placing the mind in such\ncircumstances. It is an operation of the soul, when we are so situated,\nas unavoidable as to feel the passion of love, when we receive benefits;\nor hatred, when we meet with injuries. All these operations are a\nspecies of natural instincts, which no reasoning or process of the\nthought and understanding is able either to produce or to prevent.\n\nAt this point, it would be very allowable for us to stop our\nphilosophical researches. In most questions we can never make a single\nstep farther; and in all questions we must terminate here at last, after\nour most restless and curious enquiries. But still our curiosity will be\npardonable, perhaps commendable, if it carry us on to still farther\nresearches, and make us examine more accurately the nature of this\n_belief_, and of the _customary conjunction_, whence it is derived. By\nthis means we may meet with some explications and analogies that will\ngive satisfaction; at least to such as love the abstract sciences, and\ncan be entertained with speculations, which, however accurate, may still\nretain a degree of doubt and uncertainty. As to readers of a different\ntaste; the remaining part of this section is not calculated for them,\nand the following enquiries may well be understood, though it be\nneglected.\n\n\nPART II.\n\n\n39. Nothing is more free than the imagination of man; and though it\ncannot exceed that original stock of ideas furnished by the internal and\nexternal senses, it has unlimited power of mixing, compounding,\nseparating, and dividing these ideas, in all the varieties of fiction\nand vision. It can feign a train of events, with all the appearance of\nreality, ascribe to them a particular time and place, conceive them as\nexistent, and paint them out to itself with every circumstance, that\nbelongs to any historical fact, which it believes with the greatest\ncertainty. Wherein, therefore, consists the difference between such a\nfiction and belief? It lies not merely in any peculiar idea, which is\nannexed to such a conception as commands our assent, and which is\nwanting to every known fiction. For as the mind has authority over all\nits ideas, it could voluntarily annex this particular idea to any\nfiction, and consequently be able to believe whatever it pleases;\ncontrary to what we find by daily experience. We can, in our conception,\njoin the head of a man to the body of a horse; but it is not in our\npower to believe that such an animal has ever really existed.\n\nIt follows, therefore, that the difference between _fiction_ and\n_belief_ lies in some sentiment or feeling, which is annexed to the\nlatter, not to the former, and which depends not on the will, nor can be\ncommanded at pleasure. It must be excited by nature, like all other\nsentiments; and must arise from the particular situation, in which the\nmind is placed at any particular juncture. Whenever any object is\npresented to the memory or senses, it immediately, by the force of\ncustom, carries the imagination to conceive that object, which is\nusually conjoined to it; and this conception is attended with a feeling\nor sentiment, different from the loose reveries of the fancy. In this\nconsists the whole nature of belief. For as there is no matter of fact\nwhich we believe so firmly that we cannot conceive the contrary, there\nwould be no difference between the conception assented to and that which\nis rejected, were it not for some sentiment which distinguishes the one\nfrom the other. If I see a billiard-ball moving towards another, on a\nsmooth table, I can easily conceive it to stop upon contact. This\nconception implies no contradiction; but still it feels very differently\nfrom that conception by which I represent to myself the impulse and the\ncommunication of motion from one ball to another.\n\n40. Were we to attempt a _definition_ of this sentiment, we should,\nperhaps, find it a very difficult, if not an impossible task; in the\nsame manner as if we should endeavour to define the feeling of cold or\npassion of anger, to a creature who never had any experience of these\nsentiments. Belief is the true and proper name of this feeling; and no\none is ever at a loss to know the meaning of that term; because every\nman is every moment conscious of the sentiment represented by it. It may\nnot, however, be improper to attempt a _description_ of this sentiment;\nin hopes we may, by that means, arrive at some analogies, which may\nafford a more perfect explication of it. I say, then, that belief is\nnothing but a more vivid, lively, forcible, firm, steady conception of\nan object, than what the imagination alone is ever able to attain. This\nvariety of terms, which may seem so unphilosophical, is intended only to\nexpress that act of the mind, which renders realities, or what is taken\nfor such, more present to us than fictions, causes them to weigh more in\nthe thought, and gives them a superior influence on the passions and\nimagination. Provided we agree about the thing, it is needless to\ndispute about the terms. The imagination has the command over all its\nideas, and can join and mix and vary them, in all the ways possible. It\nmay conceive fictitious objects with all the circumstances of place and\ntime. It may set them, in a manner, before our eyes, in their true\ncolours, just as they might have existed. But as it is impossible that\nthis faculty of imagination can ever, of itself, reach belief, it is\nevident that belief consists not in the peculiar nature or order of\nideas, but in the _manner_ of their conception, and in their _feeling_\nto the mind. I confess, that it is impossible perfectly to explain this\nfeeling or manner of conception. We may make use of words which express\nsomething near it. But its true and proper name, as we observed before,\nis _belief_; which is a term that every one sufficiently understands in\ncommon life. And in philosophy, we can go no farther than assert, that\n_belief_ is something felt by the mind, which distinguishes the ideas of\nthe judgement from the fictions of the imagination. It gives them more\nweight and influence; makes them appear of greater importance; enforces\nthem in the mind; and renders them the governing principle of our\nactions. I hear at present, for instance, a person's voice, with whom I\nam acquainted; and the sound comes as from the next room. This\nimpression of my senses immediately conveys my thought to the person,\ntogether with all the surrounding objects. I paint them out to myself as\nexisting at present, with the same qualities and relations, of which I\nformerly knew them possessed. These ideas take faster hold of my mind\nthan ideas of an enchanted castle. They are very different to the\nfeeling, and have a much greater influence of every kind, either to give\npleasure or pain, joy or sorrow.\n\nLet us, then, take in the whole compass of this doctrine, and allow,\nthat the sentiment of belief is nothing but a conception more intense\nand steady than what attends the mere fictions of the imagination, and\nthat this _manner_ of conception arises from a customary conjunction of\nthe object with something present to the memory or senses: I believe\nthat it will not be difficult, upon these suppositions, to find other\noperations of the mind analogous to it, and to trace up these phenomena\nto principles still more general.\n\n41. We have already observed that nature has established connexions\namong particular ideas, and that no sooner one idea occurs to our\nthoughts than it introduces its correlative, and carries our attention\ntowards it, by a gentle and insensible movement. These principles of\nconnexion or association we have reduced to three, namely,\n_Resemblance_, _Contiguity_ and _Causation_; which are the only bonds\nthat unite our thoughts together, and beget that regular train of\nreflection or discourse, which, in a greater or less degree, takes place\namong all mankind. Now here arises a question, on which the solution of\nthe present difficulty will depend. Does it happen, in all these\nrelations, that, when one of the objects is presented to the senses or\nmemory, the mind is not only carried to the conception of the\ncorrelative, but reaches a steadier and stronger conception of it than\nwhat otherwise it would have been able to attain? This seems to be the\ncase with that belief which arises from the relation of cause and\neffect. And if the case be the same with the other relations or\nprinciples of associations, this may be established as a general law,\nwhich takes place in all the operations of the mind.\n\nWe may, therefore, observe, as the first experiment to our present\npurpose, that, upon the appearance of the picture of an absent friend,\nour idea of him is evidently enlivened by the _resemblance_, and that\nevery passion, which that idea occasions, whether of joy or sorrow,\nacquires new force and vigour. In producing this effect, there concur\nboth a relation and a present impression. Where the picture bears him no\nresemblance, at least was not intended for him, it never so much as\nconveys our thought to him: And where it is absent, as well as the\nperson, though the mind may pass from the thought of the one to that of\nthe other, it feels its idea to be rather weakened than enlivened by\nthat transition. We take a pleasure in viewing the picture of a friend,\nwhen it is set before us; but when it is removed, rather choose to\nconsider him directly than by reflection in an image, which is equally\ndistant and obscure.\n\nThe ceremonies of the Roman Catholic religion may be considered as\ninstances of the same nature. The devotees of that superstition usually\nplead in excuse for the mummeries, with which they are upbraided, that\nthey feel the good effect of those external motions, and postures, and\nactions, in enlivening their devotion and quickening their fervour,\nwhich otherwise would decay, if directed entirely to distant and\nimmaterial objects. We shadow out the objects of our faith, say they, in\nsensible types and images, and render them more present to us by the\nimmediate presence of these types, than it is possible for us to do\nmerely by an intellectual view and contemplation. Sensible objects have\nalways a greater influence on the fancy than any other; and this\ninfluence they readily convey to those ideas to which they are related,\nand which they resemble. I shall only infer from these practices, and\nthis reasoning, that the effect of resemblance in enlivening the ideas\nis very common; and as in every case a resemblance and a present\nimpression must concur, we are abundantly supplied with experiments to\nprove the reality of the foregoing principle.\n\n42. We may add force to these experiments by others of a different kind,\nin considering the effects of _contiguity_ as well as of _resemblance_.\nIt is certain that distance diminishes the force of every idea, and\nthat, upon our approach to any object; though it does not discover\nitself to our senses; it operates upon the mind with an influence, which\nimitates an immediate impression. The thinking on any object readily\ntransports the mind to what is contiguous; but it is only the actual\npresence of an object, that transports it with a superior vivacity. When\nI am a few miles from home, whatever relates to it touches me more\nnearly than when I am two hundred leagues distant; though even at that\ndistance the reflecting on any thing in the neighbourhood of my friends\nor family naturally produces an idea of them. But as in this latter\ncase, both the objects of the mind are ideas; notwithstanding there is\nan easy transition between them; that transition alone is not able to\ngive a superior vivacity to any of the ideas, for want of some immediate\nimpression[8].\n\n    [8] 'Naturane nobis, inquit, datum dicam, an errore quodam, ut,\n    cum ea loca videamus, in quibus memoria dignos viros\n    acceperimus multum esse versatos, magis moveamur, quam siquando\n    eorum ipsorum aut facta audiamus aut scriptum aliquod legamus?\n    Velut ego nunc moveor. Venit enim mihi Plato in mentem, quera\n    accepimus primum hic disputare solitum: cuius etiam illi\n    hortuli propinqui non memoriam solum mihi afferunt, sed ipsum\n    videntur in conspectu meo hic ponere. Hic Speusippus, hic\n    Xenocrates, hic eius auditor Polemo; cuius ipsa illa sessio\n    fuit, quam videmus. Equidem etiam curiam nostram, Hostiliam\n    dico, non hanc novam, quae mihi minor esse videtur postquam est\n    maior, solebam intuens, Scipionem, Catonem, Laelium, nostrum\n    vero in primis avum cogitare. Tanta vis admonitionis est in\n    locis; ut non sine causa ex his memoriae deducta sit\n    disciplina.'\n\n    _Cicero de Finibus_. Lib. v.\n\n43. No one can doubt but causation has the same influence as the other\ntwo relations of resemblance and contiguity. Superstitious people are\nfond of the reliques of saints and holy men, for the same reason, that\nthey seek after types or images, in order to enliven their devotion, and\ngive them a more intimate and strong conception of those exemplary\nlives, which they desire to imitate. Now it is evident, that one of the\nbest reliques, which a devotee could procure, would be the handywork of\na saint; and if his cloaths and furniture are ever to be considered in\nthis light, it is because they were once at his disposal, and were moved\nand affected by him; in which respect they are to be considered as\nimperfect effects, and as connected with him by a shorter chain of\nconsequences than any of those, by which we learn the reality of his\nexistence.\n\nSuppose, that the son of a friend, who had been long dead or absent,\nwere presented to us; it is evident, that this object would instantly\nrevive its correlative idea, and recal to our thoughts all past\nintimacies and familiarities, in more lively colours than they would\notherwise have appeared to us. This is another phaenomenon, which seems\nto prove the principle above mentioned.\n\n44. We may observe, that, in these phaenomena, the belief of the\ncorrelative object is always presupposed; without which the relation\ncould have no effect. The influence of the picture supposes, that we\n_believe_ our friend to have once existed. Contiguity to home can never\nexcite our ideas of home, unless we _believe_ that it really exists. Now\nI assert, that this belief, where it reaches beyond the memory or\nsenses, is of a similar nature, and arises from similar causes, with the\ntransition of thought and vivacity of conception here explained. When I\nthrow a piece of dry wood into a fire, my mind is immediately carried to\nconceive, that it augments, not extinguishes the flame. This transition\nof thought from the cause to the effect proceeds not from reason. It\nderives its origin altogether from custom and experience. And as it\nfirst begins from an object, present to the senses, it renders the idea\nor conception of flame more strong and lively than any loose, floating\nreverie of the imagination. That idea arises immediately. The thought\nmoves instantly towards it, and conveys to it all that force of\nconception, which is derived from the impression present to the senses.\nWhen a sword is levelled at my breast, does not the idea of wound and\npain strike me more strongly, than when a glass of wine is presented to\nme, even though by accident this idea should occur after the appearance\nof the latter object? But what is there in this whole matter to cause\nsuch a strong conception, except only a present object and a customary\ntransition to the idea of another object, which we have been accustomed\nto conjoin with the former? This is the whole operation of the mind, in\nall our conclusions concerning matter of fact and existence; and it is a\nsatisfaction to find some analogies, by which it may be explained. The\ntransition from a present object does in all cases give strength and\nsolidity to the related idea.\n\nHere, then, is a kind of pre-established harmony between the course of\nnature and the succession of our ideas; and though the powers and\nforces, by which the former is governed, be wholly unknown to us; yet\nour thoughts and conceptions have still, we find, gone on in the same\ntrain with the other works of nature. Custom is that principle, by which\nthis correspondence has been effected; so necessary to the subsistence\nof our species, and the regulation of our conduct, in every circumstance\nand occurrence of human life. Had not the presence of an object,\ninstantly excited the idea of those objects, commonly conjoined with it,\nall our knowledge must have been limited to the narrow sphere of our\nmemory and senses; and we should never have been able to adjust means to\nends, or employ our natural powers, either to the producing of good, or\navoiding of evil. Those, who delight in the discovery and contemplation\nof _final causes_, have here ample subject to employ their wonder and\nadmiration.\n\n45. I shall add, for a further confirmation of the foregoing theory,\nthat, as this operation of the mind, by which we infer like effects from\nlike causes, and _vice versa_, is so essential to the subsistence of all\nhuman creatures, it is not probable, that it could be trusted to the\nfallacious deductions of our reason, which is slow in its operations;\nappears not, in any degree, during the first years of infancy; and at\nbest is, in every age and period of human life, extremely liable to\nerror and mistake. It is more conformable to the ordinary wisdom of\nnature to secure so necessary an act of the mind, by some instinct or\nmechanical tendency, which may be infallible in its operations, may\ndiscover itself at the first appearance of life and thought, and may be\nindependent of all the laboured deductions of the understanding. As\nnature has taught us the use of our limbs, without giving us the\nknowledge of the muscles and nerves, by which they are actuated; so has\nshe implanted in us an instinct, which carries forward the thought in a\ncorrespondent course to that which she has established among external\nobjects; though we are ignorant of those powers and forces, on which\nthis regular course and succession of objects totally depends.\n\n\n\nSECTION VI.\n\nOF PROBABILITY[9].\n\n    [9] Mr. Locke divides all arguments into demonstrative and\n    probable. In this view, we must say, that it is only probable\n    all men must die, or that the sun will rise to-morrow. But to\n    conform our language more to common use, we ought to divide\n    arguments into _demonstrations_, _proofs_, and _probabilities_.\n    By proofs meaning such arguments from experience as leave no\n    room for doubt or opposition.\n\n\n46. Though there be no such thing as _Chance_ in the world; our\nignorance of the real cause of any event has the same influence on the\nunderstanding, and begets a like species of belief or opinion.\n\nThere is certainly a probability, which arises from a superiority of\nchances on any side; and according as this superiority encreases, and\nsurpasses the opposite chances, the probability receives a\nproportionable encrease, and begets still a higher degree of belief or\nassent to that side, in which we discover the superiority. If a dye were\nmarked with one figure or number of spots on four sides, and with\nanother figure or number of spots on the two remaining sides, it would\nbe more probable, that the former would turn up than the latter; though,\nif it had a thousand sides marked in the same manner, and only one side\ndifferent, the probability would be much higher, and our belief or\nexpectation of the event more steady and secure. This process of the\nthought or reasoning may seem trivial and obvious; but to those who\nconsider it more narrowly, it may, perhaps, afford matter for curious\nspeculation.\n\nIt seems evident, that, when the mind looks forward to discover the\nevent, which may result from the throw of such a dye, it considers the\nturning up of each particular side as alike probable; and this is the\nvery nature of chance, to render all the particular events, comprehended\nin it, entirely equal. But finding a greater number of sides concur in\nthe one event than in the other, the mind is carried more frequently to\nthat event, and meets it oftener, in revolving the various possibilities\nor chances, on which the ultimate result depends. This concurrence of\nseveral views in one particular event begets immediately, by an\ninexplicable contrivance of nature, the sentiment of belief, and gives\nthat event the advantage over its antagonist, which is supported by a\nsmaller number of views, and recurs less frequently to the mind. If we\nallow, that belief is nothing but a firmer and stronger conception of an\nobject than what attends the mere fictions of the imagination, this\noperation may, perhaps, in some measure, be accounted for. The\nconcurrence of these several views or glimpses imprints the idea more\nstrongly on the imagination; gives it superior force and vigour; renders\nits influence on the passions and affections more sensible; and in a\nword, begets that reliance or security, which constitutes the nature of\nbelief and opinion.\n\n47. The case is the same with the probability of causes, as with that of\nchance. There are some causes, which are entirely uniform and constant\nin producing a particular effect; and no instance has ever yet been\nfound of any failure or irregularity in their operation. Fire has always\nburned, and water suffocated every human creature: The production of\nmotion by impulse and gravity is an universal law, which has hitherto\nadmitted of no exception. But there are other causes, which have been\nfound more irregular and uncertain; nor has rhubarb always proved a\npurge, or opium a soporific to every one, who has taken these medicines.\nIt is true, when any cause fails of producing its usual effect,\nphilosophers ascribe not this to any irregularity in nature; but\nsuppose, that some secret causes, in the particular structure of parts,\nhave prevented the operation. Our reasonings, however, and conclusions\nconcerning the event are the same as if this principle had no place.\nBeing determined by custom to transfer the past to the future, in all\nour inferences; where the past has been entirely regular and uniform, we\nexpect the event with the greatest assurance, and leave no room for any\ncontrary supposition. But where different effects have been found to\nfollow from causes, which are to _appearance_ exactly similar, all these\nvarious effects must occur to the mind in transferring the past to the\nfuture, and enter into our consideration, when we determine the\nprobability of the event. Though we give the preference to that which\nhas been found most usual, and believe that this effect will exist, we\nmust not overlook the other effects, but must assign to each of them a\nparticular weight and authority, in proportion as we have found it to be\nmore or less frequent. It is more probable, in almost every country of\nEurope, that there will be frost sometime in January, than that the\nweather will continue open throughout that whole month; though this\nprobability varies according to the different climates, and approaches\nto a certainty in the more northern kingdoms. Here then it seems\nevident, that, when we transfer the past to the future, in order to\ndetermine the effect, which will result from any cause, we transfer all\nthe different events, in the same proportion as they have appeared in\nthe past, and conceive one to have existed a hundred times, for\ninstance, another ten times, and another once. As a great number of\nviews do here concur in one event, they fortify and confirm it to the\nimagination, beget that sentiment which we call _belief,_ and give its\nobject the preference above the contrary event, which is not supported\nby an equal number of experiments, and recurs not so frequently to the\nthought in transferring the past to the future. Let any one try to\naccount for this operation of the mind upon any of the received systems\nof philosophy, and he will be sensible of the difficulty. For my part, I\nshall think it sufficient, if the present hints excite the curiosity of\nphilosophers, and make them sensible how defective all common theories\nare in treating of such curious and such sublime subjects.\n\n\n\nSECTION VII.\n\nOF THE IDEA OF NECESSARY CONNEXION.\n\nPART I.\n\n\n48. The great advantage of the mathematical sciences above the moral\nconsists in this, that the ideas of the former, being sensible, are\nalways clear and determinate, the smallest distinction between them is\nimmediately perceptible, and the same terms are still expressive of the\nsame ideas, without ambiguity or variation. An oval is never mistaken\nfor a circle, nor an hyperbola for an ellipsis. The isosceles and\nscalenum are distinguished by boundaries more exact than vice and\nvirtue, right and wrong. If any term be defined in geometry, the mind\nreadily, of itself, substitutes, on all occasions, the definition for\nthe term defined: Or even when no definition is employed, the object\nitself may be presented to the senses, and by that means be steadily and\nclearly apprehended. But the finer sentiments of the mind, the\noperations of the understanding, the various agitations of the passions,\nthough really in themselves distinct, easily escape us, when surveyed by\nreflection; nor is it in our power to recal the original object, as\noften as we have occasion to contemplate it. Ambiguity, by this means,\nis gradually introduced into our reasonings: Similar objects are readily\ntaken to be the same: And the conclusion becomes at last very wide of\nthe premises.\n\nOne may safely, however, affirm, that, if we consider these sciences in\na proper light, their advantages and disadvantages nearly compensate\neach other, and reduce both of them to a state of equality. If the mind,\nwith greater facility, retains the ideas of geometry clear and\ndeterminate, it must carry on a much longer and more intricate chain of\nreasoning, and compare ideas much wider of each other, in order to reach\nthe abstruser truths of that science. And if moral ideas are apt,\nwithout extreme care, to fall into obscurity and confusion, the\ninferences are always much shorter in these disquisitions, and the\nintermediate steps, which lead to the conclusion, much fewer than in the\nsciences which treat of quantity and number. In reality, there is\nscarcely a proposition in Euclid so simple, as not to consist of more\nparts, than are to be found in any moral reasoning which runs not into\nchimera and conceit. Where we trace the principles of the human mind\nthrough a few steps, we may be very well satisfied with our progress;\nconsidering how soon nature throws a bar to all our enquiries concerning\ncauses, and reduces us to an acknowledgment of our ignorance. The chief\nobstacle, therefore, to our improvement in the moral or metaphysical\nsciences is the obscurity of the ideas, and ambiguity of the terms. The\nprincipal difficulty in the mathematics is the length of inferences and\ncompass of thought, requisite to the forming of any conclusion. And,\nperhaps, our progress in natural philosophy is chiefly retarded by the\nwant of proper experiments and phaenomena, which are often discovered by\nchance, and cannot always be found, when requisite, even by the most\ndiligent and prudent enquiry. As moral philosophy seems hitherto to have\nreceived less improvement than either geometry or physics, we may\nconclude, that, if there be any difference in this respect among these\nsciences, the difficulties, which obstruct the progress of the former,\nrequire superior care and capacity to be surmounted.\n\n49. There are no ideas, which occur in metaphysics, more obscure and\nuncertain, than those of _power, force, energy_ or _necessary\nconnexion_, of which it is every moment necessary for us to treat in all\nour disquisitions. We shall, therefore, endeavour, in this section, to\nfix, if possible, the precise meaning of these terms, and thereby remove\nsome part of that obscurity, which is so much complained of in this\nspecies of philosophy.\n\nIt seems a proposition, which will not admit of much dispute, that all\nour ideas are nothing but copies of our impressions, or, in other words,\nthat it is impossible for us to _think_ of any thing, which we have not\nantecedently _felt_, either by our external or internal senses. I have\nendeavoured[10] to explain and prove this proposition, and have expressed\nmy hopes, that, by a proper application of it, men may reach a greater\nclearness and precision in philosophical reasonings, than what they have\nhitherto been able to attain. Complex ideas may, perhaps, be well known\nby definition, which is nothing but an enumeration of those parts or\nsimple ideas, that compose them. But when we have pushed up definitions\nto the most simple ideas, and find still some ambiguity and obscurity;\nwhat resource are we then possessed of? By what invention can we throw\nlight upon these ideas, and render them altogether precise and\ndeterminate to our intellectual view? Produce the impressions or\noriginal sentiments, from which the ideas are copied. These impressions\nare all strong and sensible. They admit not of ambiguity. They are not\nonly placed in a full light themselves, but may throw light on their\ncorrespondent ideas, which lie in obscurity. And by this means, we may,\nperhaps, attain a new microscope or species of optics, by which, in the\nmoral sciences, the most minute, and most simple ideas may be so\nenlarged as to fall readily under our apprehension, and be equally known\nwith the grossest and most sensible ideas, that can be the object of\nour enquiry.\n\n    [10] Section II.\n\n50. To be fully acquainted, therefore, with the idea of power or\nnecessary connexion, let us examine its impression; and in order to find\nthe impression with greater certainty, let us search for it in all the\nsources, from which it may possibly be derived.\n\nWhen we look about us towards external objects, and consider the\noperation of causes, we are never able, in a single instance, to\ndiscover any power or necessary connexion; any quality, which binds the\neffect to the cause, and renders the one an infallible consequence of\nthe other. We only find, that the one does actually, in fact, follow the\nother. The impulse of one billiard-ball is attended with motion in the\nsecond. This is the whole that appears to the _outward_ senses. The mind\nfeels no sentiment or _inward_ impression from this succession of\nobjects: Consequently, there is not, in any single, particular instance\nof cause and effect, any thing which can suggest the idea of power or\nnecessary connexion.\n\nFrom the first appearance of an object, we never can conjecture what\neffect will result from it. But were the power or energy of any cause\ndiscoverable by the mind, we could foresee the effect, even without\nexperience; and might, at first, pronounce with certainty concerning it,\nby mere dint of thought and reasoning.\n\nIn reality, there is no part of matter, that does ever, by its sensible\nqualities, discover any power or energy, or give us ground to imagine,\nthat it could produce any thing, or be followed by any other object,\nwhich we could denominate its effect. Solidity, extension, motion; these\nqualities are all complete in themselves, and never point out any other\nevent which may result from them. The scenes of the universe are\ncontinually shifting, and one object follows another in an uninterrupted\nsuccession; but the power of force, which actuates the whole machine, is\nentirely concealed from us, and never discovers itself in any of the\nsensible qualities of body. We know, that, in fact, heat is a constant\nattendant of flame; but what is the connexion between them, we have no\nroom so much as to conjecture or imagine. It is impossible, therefore,\nthat the idea of power can be derived from the contemplation of bodies,\nin single instances of their operation; because no bodies ever discover\nany power, which can be the original of this idea.[11]\n\n    [11] Mr. Locke, in his chapter of power, says that, finding\n    from experience, that there are several new productions in\n    nature, and concluding that there must somewhere be a power\n    capable of producing them, we arrive at last by this reasoning\n    at the idea of power. But no reasoning can ever give us a new,\n    original, simple idea; as this philosopher himself confesses.\n    This, therefore, can never be the origin of that idea.\n\n51. Since, therefore, external objects as they appear to the senses,\ngive us no idea of power or necessary connexion, by their operation in\nparticular instances, let us see, whether this idea be derived from\nreflection on the operations of our own minds, and be copied from any\ninternal impression. It may be said, that we are every moment conscious\nof internal power; while we feel, that, by the simple command of our\nwill, we can move the organs of our body, or direct the faculties of our\nmind. An act of volition produces motion in our limbs, or raises a new\nidea in our imagination. This influence of the will we know by\nconsciousness. Hence we acquire the idea of power or energy; and are\ncertain, that we ourselves and all other intelligent beings are\npossessed of power. This idea, then, is an idea of reflection, since it\narises from reflecting on the operations of our own mind, and on the\ncommand which is exercised by will, both over the organs of the body and\nfaculties of the soul.\n\n52. We shall proceed to examine this pretension; and first with regard\nto the influence of volition over the organs of the body. This\ninfluence, we may observe, is a fact, which, like all other natural\nevents, can be known only by experience, and can never be foreseen from\nany apparent energy or power in the cause, which connects it with the\neffect, and renders the one an infallible consequence of the other. The\nmotion of our body follows upon the command of our will. Of this we are\nevery moment conscious. But the means, by which this is effected; the\nenergy, by which the will performs so extraordinary an operation; of\nthis we are so far from being immediately conscious, that it must for\never escape our most diligent enquiry.\n\nFor _first_; is there any principle in all nature more mysterious than\nthe union of soul with body; by which a supposed spiritual substance\nacquires such an influence over a material one, that the most refined\nthought is able to actuate the grossest matter? Were we empowered, by a\nsecret wish, to remove mountains, or control the planets in their orbit;\nthis extensive authority would not be more extraordinary, nor more\nbeyond our comprehension. But if by consciousness we perceived any power\nor energy in the will, we must know this power; we must know its\nconnexion with the effect; we must know the secret union of soul and\nbody, and the nature of both these substances; by which the one is able\nto operate, in so many instances, upon the other.\n\n_Secondly_, We are not able to move all the organs of the body with a\nlike authority; though we cannot assign any reason besides experience,\nfor so remarkable a difference between one and the other. Why has the\nwill an influence over the tongue and fingers, not over the heart or\nliver? This question would never embarrass us, were we conscious of a\npower in the former case, not in the latter. We should then perceive,\nindependent of experience, why the authority of will over the organs of\nthe body is circumscribed within such particular limits. Being in that\ncase fully acquainted with the power or force, by which it operates, we\nshould also know, why its influence reaches precisely to such\nboundaries, and no farther.\n\nA man, suddenly struck with palsy in the leg or arm, or who had newly\nlost those members, frequently endeavours, at first to move them, and\nemploy them in their usual offices. Here he is as much conscious of\npower to command such limbs, as a man in perfect health is conscious of\npower to actuate any member which remains in its natural state and\ncondition. But consciousness never deceives. Consequently, neither in\nthe one case nor in the other, are we ever conscious of any power. We\nlearn the influence of our will from experience alone. And experience\nonly teaches us, how one event constantly follows another; without\ninstructing us in the secret connexion, which binds them together, and\nrenders them inseparable.\n\n_Thirdly,_ We learn from anatomy, that the immediate object of power in\nvoluntary motion, is not the member itself which is moved, but certain\nmuscles, and nerves, and animal spirits, and, perhaps, something still\nmore minute and more unknown, through which the motion is successively\npropagated, ere it reach the member itself whose motion is the immediate\nobject of volition. Can there be a more certain proof, that the power,\nby which this whole operation is performed, so far from being directly\nand fully known by an inward sentiment or consciousness, is, to the last\ndegree mysterious and unintelligible? Here the mind wills a certain\nevent: Immediately another event, unknown to ourselves, and totally\ndifferent from the one intended, is produced: This event produces\nanother, equally unknown: Till at last, through a long succession, the\ndesired event is produced. But if the original power were felt, it must\nbe known: Were it known, its effect also must be known; since all power\nis relative to its effect. And _vice versa,_ if the effect be not known,\nthe power cannot be known nor felt. How indeed can we be conscious of a\npower to move our limbs, when we have no such power; but only that to\nmove certain animal spirits, which, though they produce at last the\nmotion of our limbs, yet operate in such a manner as is wholly beyond\nour comprehension?\n\nWe may, therefore, conclude from the whole, I hope, without any\ntemerity, though with assurance; that our idea of power is not copied\nfrom any sentiment or consciousness of power within ourselves, when we\ngive rise to animal motion, or apply our limbs to their proper use and\noffice. That their motion follows the command of the will is a matter of\ncommon experience, like other natural events: But the power or energy by\nwhich this is effected, like that in other natural events, is unknown\nand inconceivable.[12]\n\n    [12] It may be pretended, that the resistance which we meet\n    with in bodies, obliging us frequently to exert our force, and\n    call up all our power, this gives us the idea of force and\n    power. It is this _nisus_, or strong endeavour, of which we are\n    conscious, that is the original impression from which this idea\n    is copied. But, first, we attribute power to a vast number of\n    objects, where we never can suppose this resistance or exertion\n    of force to take place; to the Supreme Being, who never meets\n    with any resistance; to the mind in its command over its ideas\n    and limbs, in common thinking and motion, where the effect\n    follows immediately upon the will, without any exertion or\n    summoning up of force; to inanimate matter, which is not\n    capable of this sentiment. _Secondly,_ This sentiment of an\n    endeavour to overcome resistance has no known connexion with\n    any event: What follows it, we know by experience; but could\n    not know it _a priori._ It must, however, be confessed, that\n    the animal _nisus,_ which we experience, though it can afford\n    no accurate precise idea of power, enters very much into that\n    vulgar, inaccurate idea, which is formed of it.\n\n53. Shall we then assert, that we are conscious of a power or energy in\nour own minds, when, by an act or command of our will, we raise up a new\nidea, fix the mind to the contemplation of it, turn it on all sides, and\nat last dismiss it for some other idea, when we think that we have\nsurveyed it with sufficient accuracy? I believe the same arguments will\nprove, that even this command of the will gives us no real idea of force\nor energy.\n\n_First,_ It must be allowed, that, when we know a power, we know that\nvery circumstance in the cause, by which it is enabled to produce the\neffect: For these are supposed to be synonimous. We must, therefore,\nknow both the cause and effect, and the relation between them. But do we\npretend to be acquainted with the nature of the human soul and the\nnature of an idea, or the aptitude of the one to produce the other? This\nis a real creation; a production of something out of nothing: Which\nimplies a power so great, that it may seem, at first sight, beyond the\nreach of any being, less than infinite. At least it must be owned, that\nsuch a power is not felt, nor known, nor even conceivable by the mind.\nWe only feel the event, namely, the existence of an idea, consequent to\na command of the will: But the manner, in which this operation is\nperformed, the power by which it is produced, is entirely beyond our\ncomprehension.\n\n_Secondly_, The command of the mind over itself is limited, as well as\nits command over the body; and these limits are not known by reason, or\nany acquaintance with the nature of cause and effect, but only by\nexperience and observation, as in all other natural events and in the\noperation of external objects. Our authority over our sentiments and\npassions is much weaker than that over our ideas; and even the latter\nauthority is circumscribed within very narrow boundaries. Will any one\npretend to assign the ultimate reason of these boundaries, or show why\nthe power is deficient in one case, not in another.\n\n_Thirdly_, This self-command is very different at different times. A man\nin health possesses more of it than one languishing with sickness. We\nare more master of our thoughts in the morning than in the evening:\nFasting, than after a full meal. Can we give any reason for these\nvariations, except experience? Where then is the power, of which we\npretend to be conscious? Is there not here, either in a spiritual or\nmaterial substance, or both, some secret mechanism or structure of\nparts, upon which the effect depends, and which, being entirely unknown\nto us, renders the power or energy of the will equally unknown and\nincomprehensible?\n\nVolition is surely an act of the mind, with which we are sufficiently\nacquainted. Reflect upon it. Consider it on all sides. Do you find\nanything in it like this creative power, by which it raises from nothing\na new idea, and with a kind of _Fiat_, imitates the omnipotence of its\nMaker, if I may be allowed so to speak, who called forth into existence\nall the various scenes of nature? So far from being conscious of this\nenergy in the will, it requires as certain experience as that of which\nwe are possessed, to convince us that such extraordinary effects do ever\nresult from a simple act of volition.\n\n54. The generality of mankind never find any difficulty in accounting\nfor the more common and familiar operations of nature--such as the\ndescent of heavy bodies, the growth of plants, the generation of\nanimals, or the nourishment of bodies by food: But suppose that, in all\nthese cases, they perceive the very force or energy of the cause, by\nwhich it is connected with its effect, and is for ever infallible in its\noperation. They acquire, by long habit, such a turn of mind, that, upon\nthe appearance of the cause, they immediately expect with assurance its\nusual attendant, and hardly conceive it possible that any other event\ncould result from it. It is only on the discovery of extraordinary\nphaenomena, such as earthquakes, pestilence, and prodigies of any kind,\nthat they find themselves at a loss to assign a proper cause, and to\nexplain the manner in which the effect is produced by it. It is usual\nfor men, in such difficulties, to have recourse to some invisible\nintelligent principle[13] as the immediate cause of that event which\nsurprises them, and which, they think, cannot be accounted for from the\ncommon powers of nature. But philosophers, who carry their scrutiny a\nlittle farther, immediately perceive that, even in the most familiar\nevents, the energy of the cause is as unintelligible as in the most\nunusual, and that we only learn by experience the frequent _Conjunction_\nof objects, without being ever able to comprehend anything like\n_Connexion_ between them.\n\n    [13] [Greek: theos apo maechanaes.]\n\n55. Here, then, many philosophers think themselves obliged by reason to\nhave recourse, on all occasions, to the same principle, which the vulgar\nnever appeal to but in cases that appear miraculous and supernatural.\nThey acknowledge mind and intelligence to be, not only the ultimate and\noriginal cause of all things, but the immediate and sole cause of every\nevent which appears in nature. They pretend that those objects which are\ncommonly denominated _causes,_ are in reality nothing but _occasions;_\nand that the true and direct principle of every effect is not any power\nor force in nature, but a volition of the Supreme Being, who wills that\nsuch particular objects should for ever be conjoined with each other.\nInstead of saying that one billiard-ball moves another by a force which\nit has derived from the author of nature, it is the Deity himself, they\nsay, who, by a particular volition, moves the second ball, being\ndetermined to this operation by the impulse of the first ball, in\nconsequence of those general laws which he has laid down to himself in\nthe government of the universe. But philosophers advancing still in\ntheir inquiries, discover that, as we are totally ignorant of the power\non which depends the mutual operation of bodies, we are no less ignorant\nof that power on which depends the operation of mind on body, or of body\non mind; nor are we able, either from our senses or consciousness, to\nassign the ultimate principle in one case more than in the other. The\nsame ignorance, therefore, reduces them to the same conclusion. They\nassert that the Deity is the immediate cause of the union between soul\nand body; and that they are not the organs of sense, which, being\nagitated by external objects, produce sensations in the mind; but that\nit is a particular volition of our omnipotent Maker, which excites such\na sensation, in consequence of such a motion in the organ. In like\nmanner, it is not any energy in the will that produces local motion in\nour members: It is God himself, who is pleased to second our will, in\nitself impotent, and to command that motion which we erroneously\nattribute to our own power and efficacy. Nor do philosophers stop at\nthis conclusion. They sometimes extend the same inference to the mind\nitself, in its internal operations. Our mental vision or conception of\nideas is nothing but a revelation made to us by our Maker. When we\nvoluntarily turn our thoughts to any object, and raise up its image in\nthe fancy, it is not the will which creates that idea: It is the\nuniversal Creator, who discovers it to the mind, and renders it\npresent to us.\n\n56. Thus, according to these philosophers, every thing is full of God.\nNot content with the principle, that nothing exists but by his will,\nthat nothing possesses any power but by his concession: They rob nature,\nand all created beings, of every power, in order to render their\ndependence on the Deity still more sensible and immediate. They consider\nnot that, by this theory, they diminish, instead of magnifying, the\ngrandeur of those attributes, which they affect so much to celebrate. It\nargues surely more power in the Deity to delegate a certain degree of\npower to inferior creatures than to produce every thing by his own\nimmediate volition. It argues more wisdom to contrive at first the\nfabric of the world with such perfect foresight that, of itself, and by\nits proper operation, it may serve all the purposes of providence, than\nif the great Creator were obliged every moment to adjust its parts, and\nanimate by his breath all the wheels of that stupendous machine.\n\nBut if we would have a more philosophical confutation of this theory,\nperhaps the two following reflections may suffice.\n\n57. _First_, it seems to me that this theory of the universal energy and\noperation of the Supreme Being is too bold ever to carry conviction with\nit to a man, sufficiently apprized of the weakness of human reason, and\nthe narrow limits to which it is confined in all its operations. Though\nthe chain of arguments which conduct to it were ever so logical, there\nmust arise a strong suspicion, if not an absolute assurance, that it has\ncarried us quite beyond the reach of our faculties, when it leads to\nconclusions so extraordinary, and so remote from common life and\nexperience. We are got into fairy land, long ere we have reached the\nlast steps of our theory; and _there_ we have no reason to trust our\ncommon methods of argument, or to think that our usual analogies and\nprobabilities have any authority. Our line is too short to fathom such\nimmense abysses. And however we may flatter ourselves that we are\nguided, in every step which we take, by a kind of verisimilitude and\nexperience, we may be assured that this fancied experience has no\nauthority when we thus apply it to subjects that lie entirely out of the\nsphere of experience. But on this we shall have occasion to touch\nafterwards.[14]\n\n    [14] Section XII.\n\n_Secondly,_ I cannot perceive any force in the arguments on which this\ntheory is founded. We are ignorant, it is true, of the manner in which\nbodies operate on each other: Their force or energy is entirely\nincomprehensible: But are we not equally ignorant of the manner or force\nby which a mind, even the supreme mind, operates either on itself or on\nbody? Whence, I beseech you, do we acquire any idea of it? We have no\nsentiment or consciousness of this power in ourselves. We have no idea\nof the Supreme Being but what we learn from reflection on our own\nfaculties. Were our ignorance, therefore, a good reason for rejecting\nany thing, we should be led into that principle of denying all energy in\nthe Supreme Being as much as in the grossest matter. We surely\ncomprehend as little the operations of one as of the other. Is it more\ndifficult to conceive that motion may arise from impulse than that it\nmay arise from volition? All we know is our profound ignorance in\nboth cases[15].\n\n    [15] I need not examine at length the _vis inertiae_ which is\n    so much talked of in the new philosophy, and which is ascribed\n    to matter. We find by experience, that a body at rest or in\n    motion continues for ever in its present state, till put from\n    it by some new cause; and that a body impelled takes as much\n    motion from the impelling body as it acquires itself. These are\n    facts. When we call this a _vis inertiae_, we only mark these\n    facts, without pretending to have any idea of the inert power;\n    in the same manner as, when we talk of gravity, we mean certain\n    effects, without comprehending that active power. It was never\n    the meaning of Sir ISAAC NEWTON to rob second causes of all\n    force or energy; though some of his followers have endeavoured\n    to establish that theory upon his authority. On the contrary,\n    that great philosopher had recourse to an etherial active fluid\n    to explain his universal attraction; though he was so cautious\n    and modest as to allow, that it was a mere hypothesis, not to\n    be insisted on, without more experiments. I must confess, that\n    there is something in the fate of opinions a little\n    extraordinary. DES CARTES insinuated that doctrine of the\n    universal and sole efficacy of the Deity, without insisting on\n    it. MALEBRANCHE and other CARTESIANS made it the foundation of\n    all their philosophy. It had, however, no authority in England.\n    LOCKE, CLARKE, and CUDWORTH, never so much as take notice of\n    it, but suppose all along, that matter has a real, though\n    subordinate and derived power. By what means has it become so\n    prevalent among our modern metaphysicians?\n\n\nPART II.\n\n\n58. But to hasten to a conclusion of this argument, which is already\ndrawn out to too great a length: We have sought in vain for an idea of\npower or necessary connexion in all the sources from which we could\nsuppose it to be derived. It appears that, in single instances of the\noperation of bodies, we never can, by our utmost scrutiny, discover any\nthing but one event following another, without being able to comprehend\nany force or power by which the cause operates, or any connexion between\nit and its supposed effect. The same difficulty occurs in contemplating\nthe operations of mind on body--where we observe the motion of the\nlatter to follow upon the volition of the former, but are not able to\nobserve or conceive the tie which binds together the motion and\nvolition, or the energy by which the mind produces this effect. The\nauthority of the will over its own faculties and ideas is not a whit\nmore comprehensible: So that, upon the whole, there appears not,\nthroughout all nature, any one instance of connexion which is\nconceivable by us. All events seem entirely loose and separate. One\nevent follows another; but we never can observe any tie between them.\nThey seem _conjoined_, but never _connected_. And as we can have no idea\nof any thing which never appeared to our outward sense or inward\nsentiment, the necessary conclusion _seems_ to be that we have no idea\nof connexion or power at all, and that these words are absolutely\nwithout any meaning, when employed either in philosophical reasonings or\ncommon life.\n\n59. But there still remains one method of avoiding this conclusion, and\none source which we have not yet examined. When any natural object or\nevent is presented, it is impossible for us, by any sagacity or\npenetration, to discover, or even conjecture, without experience, what\nevent will result from it, or to carry our foresight beyond that object\nwhich is immediately present to the memory and senses. Even after one\ninstance or experiment where we have observed a particular event to\nfollow upon another, we are not entitled to form a general rule, or\nforetell what will happen in like cases; it being justly esteemed an\nunpardonable temerity to judge of the whole course of nature from one\nsingle experiment, however accurate or certain. But when one particular\nspecies of event has always, in all instances, been conjoined with\nanother, we make no longer any scruple of foretelling one upon the\nappearance of the other, and of employing that reasoning, which can\nalone assure us of any matter of fact or existence. We then call the one\nobject, _Cause;_ the other, _Effect._ We suppose that there is some\nconnexion between them; some power in the one, by which it infallibly\nproduces the other, and operates with the greatest certainty and\nstrongest necessity.\n\nIt appears, then, that this idea of a necessary connexion among events\narises from a number of similar instances which occur of the constant\nconjunction of these events; nor can that idea ever be suggested by any\none of these instances, surveyed in all possible lights and positions.\nBut there is nothing in a number of instances, different from every\nsingle instance, which is supposed to be exactly similar; except only,\nthat after a repetition of similar instances, the mind is carried by\nhabit, upon the appearance of one event, to expect its usual attendant,\nand to believe that it will exist. This connexion, therefore, which we\n_feel_ in the mind, this customary transition of the imagination from\none object to its usual attendant, is the sentiment or impression from\nwhich we form the idea of power or necessary connexion. Nothing farther\nis in the case. Contemplate the subject on all sides; you will never\nfind any other origin of that idea. This is the sole difference between\none instance, from which we can never receive the idea of connexion, and\na number of similar instances, by which it is suggested. The first time\na man saw the communication of motion by impulse, as by the shock of two\nbilliard balls, he could not pronounce that the one event was\n_connected:_ but only that it was _conjoined_ with the other. After he\nhas observed several instances of this nature, he then pronounces them\nto be _connected._ What alteration has happened to give rise to this new\nidea of _connexion?_ Nothing but that he now _feels_ these events to be\nconnected in his imagination, and can readily foretell the existence of\none from the appearance of the other. When we say, therefore, that one\nobject is connected with another, we mean only that they have acquired a\nconnexion in our thought, and give rise to this inference, by which they\nbecome proofs of each other's existence: A conclusion which is somewhat\nextraordinary, but which seems founded on sufficient evidence. Nor will\nits evidence be weakened by any general diffidence of the understanding,\nor sceptical suspicion concerning every conclusion which is new and\nextraordinary. No conclusions can be more agreeable to scepticism than\nsuch as make discoveries concerning the weakness and narrow limits of\nhuman reason and capacity.\n\n60. And what stronger instance can be produced of the surprising\nignorance and weakness of the understanding than the present? For\nsurely, if there be any relation among objects which it imports to us to\nknow perfectly, it is that of cause and effect. On this are founded all\nour reasonings concerning matter of fact or existence. By means of it\nalone we attain any assurance concerning objects which are removed from\nthe present testimony of our memory and senses. The only immediate\nutility of all sciences, is to teach us, how to control and regulate\nfuture events by their causes. Our thoughts and enquiries are,\ntherefore, every moment, employed about this relation: Yet so imperfect\nare the ideas which we form concerning it, that it is impossible to give\nany just definition of cause, except what is drawn from something\nextraneous and foreign to it. Similar objects are always conjoined with\nsimilar. Of this we have experience. Suitably to this experience,\ntherefore, we may define a cause to be _an object, followed by another,\nand where all the objects similar to the first are followed by objects\nsimilar to the second_. Or in other words _where, if the first object\nhad not been, the second never had existed_. The appearance of a cause\nalways conveys the mind, by a customary transition, to the idea of the\neffect. Of this also we have experience. We may, therefore, suitably to\nthis experience, form another definition of cause, and call it, _an\nobject followed by another, and whose appearance always conveys the\nthought to that other._ But though both these definitions be drawn from\ncircumstances foreign to the cause, we cannot remedy this inconvenience,\nor attain any more perfect definition, which may point out that\ncircumstance in the cause, which gives it a connexion with its effect.\nWe have no idea of this connexion, nor even any distinct notion what it\nis we desire to know, when we endeavour at a conception of it. We say,\nfor instance, that the vibration of this string is the cause of this\nparticular sound. But what do we mean by that affirmation? We either\nmean _that this vibration is followed by this sound, and that all\nsimilar vibrations have been followed by similar sounds:_ Or, _that this\nvibration is followed by this sound, and that upon the appearance of one\nthe mind anticipates the senses, and forms immediately an idea of the\nother._ We may consider the relation of cause and effect in either of\nthese two lights; but beyond these, we have no idea of it.[16]\n\n    [16] According to these explications and definitions, the idea\n    of _power_ is relative as much as that of _cause;_ and both\n    have a reference to an effect, or some other event constantly\n    conjoined with the former. When we consider the _unknown_\n    circumstance of an object, by which the degree or quantity of\n    its effect is fixed and determined, we call that its power: And\n    accordingly, it is allowed by all philosophers, that the effect\n    is the measure of the power. But if they had any idea of power,\n    as it is in itself, why could not they Measure it in itself?\n    The dispute whether the force of a body in motion be as its\n    velocity, or the square of its velocity; this dispute, I say,\n    need not be decided by comparing its effects in equal or\n    unequal times; but by a direct mensuration and comparison.\n\n    As to the frequent use of the words, Force, Power, Energy, &c.,\n    which every where occur in common conversation, as well as in\n    philosophy; that is no proof, that we are acquainted, in any\n    instance, with the connecting principle between cause and\n    effect, or can account ultimately for the production of one\n    thing to another. These words, as commonly used, have very\n    loose meanings annexed to them; and their ideas are very\n    uncertain and confused. No animal can put external bodies in\n    motion without the sentiment of a _nisus_ or endeavour; and\n    every animal has a sentiment or feeling from the stroke or blow\n    of an external object, that is in motion. These sensations,\n    which are merely animal, and from which we can _a priori_ draw\n    no inference, we are apt to transfer to inanimate objects, and\n    to suppose, that they have some such feelings, whenever they\n    transfer or receive motion. With regard to energies, which are\n    exerted, without our annexing to them any idea of communicated\n    motion, we consider only the constant experienced conjunction\n    of the events; and as we _feel_ a customary connexion between\n    the ideas, we transfer that feeling to the objects; as nothing\n    is more usual than to apply to external bodies every internal\n    sensation, which they occasion.\n\n61. To recapitulate, therefore, the reasonings of this section: Every\nidea is copied from some preceding impression or sentiment; and where we\ncannot find any impression, we may be certain that there is no idea. In\nall single instances of the operation of bodies or minds, there is\nnothing that produces any impression, nor consequently can suggest any\nidea of power or necessary connexion. But when many uniform instances\nappear, and the same object is always followed by the same event; we\nthen begin to entertain the notion of cause and connexion. We then\n_feel_ a new sentiment or impression, to wit, a customary connexion in\nthe thought or imagination between one object and its usual attendant;\nand this sentiment is the original of that idea which we seek for. For\nas this idea arises from a number of similar instances, and not from any\nsingle instance, it must arise from that circumstance, in which the\nnumber of instances differ from every individual instance. But this\ncustomary connexion or transition of the imagination is the only\ncircumstance in which they differ. In every other particular they are\nalike. The first instance which we saw of motion communicated by the\nshock of two billiard balls (to return to this obvious illustration) is\nexactly similar to any instance that may, at present, occur to us;\nexcept only, that we could not, at first, _infer_ one event from the\nother; which we are enabled to do at present, after so long a course of\nuniform experience. I know not whether the reader will readily apprehend\nthis reasoning. I am afraid that, should I multiply words about it, or\nthrow it into a greater variety of lights, it would only become more\nobscure and intricate. In all abstract reasonings there is one point of\nview which, if we can happily hit, we shall go farther towards\nillustrating the subject than by all the eloquence and copious\nexpression in the world. This point of view we should endeavour to\nreach, and reserve the flowers of rhetoric for subjects which are more\nadapted to them.\n\n\n\nSECTION VIII.\n\nOF LIBERTY AND NECESSITY.\n\n\nPART I.\n\n\n62. It might reasonably be expected in questions which have been\ncanvassed and disputed with great eagerness, since the first origin of\nscience and philosophy, that the meaning of all the terms, at least,\nshould have been agreed upon among the disputants; and our enquiries, in\nthe course of two thousand years, been able to pass from words to the\ntrue and real subject of the controversy. For how easy may it seem to\ngive exact definitions of the terms employed in reasoning, and make\nthese definitions, not the mere sound of words, the object of future\nscrutiny and examination? But if we consider the matter more narrowly,\nwe shall be apt to draw a quite opposite conclusion. From this\ncircumstance alone, that a controversy has been long kept on foot, and\nremains still undecided, we may presume that there is some ambiguity in\nthe expression, and that the disputants affix different ideas to the\nterms employed in the controversy. For as the faculties of the mind are\nsupposed to be naturally alike in every individual; otherwise nothing\ncould be more fruitless than to reason or dispute together; it were\nimpossible, if men affix the same ideas to their terms, that they could\nso long form different opinions of the same subject; especially when\nthey communicate their views, and each party turn themselves on all\nsides, in search of arguments which may give them the victory over their\nantagonists. It is true, if men attempt the discussion of questions\nwhich lie entirely beyond the reach of human capacity, such as those\nconcerning the origin of worlds, or the economy of the intellectual\nsystem or region of spirits, they may long beat the air in their\nfruitless contests, and never arrive at any determinate conclusion. But\nif the question regard any subject of common life and experience,\nnothing, one would think, could preserve the dispute so long undecided\nbut some ambiguous expressions, which keep the antagonists still at a\ndistance, and hinder them from grappling with each other.\n\n63. This has been the case in the long disputed question concerning\nliberty and necessity; and to so remarkable a degree that, if I be not\nmuch mistaken, we shall find, that all mankind, both learned and\nignorant, have always been of the same opinion with regard to this\nsubject, and that a few intelligible definitions would immediately have\nput an end to the whole controversy. I own that this dispute has been so\nmuch canvassed on all hands, and has led philosophers into such a\nlabyrinth of obscure sophistry, that it is no wonder, if a sensible\nreader indulge his ease so far as to turn a deaf ear to the proposal of\nsuch a question, from which he can expect neither instruction or\nentertainment. But the state of the argument here proposed may, perhaps,\nserve to renew his attention; as it has more novelty, promises at least\nsome decision of the controversy, and will not much disturb his ease by\nany intricate or obscure reasoning.\n\nI hope, therefore, to make it appear that all men have ever agreed in\nthe doctrine both of necessity and of liberty, according to any\nreasonable sense, which can be put on these terms; and that the whole\ncontroversy has hitherto turned merely upon words. We shall begin with\nexamining the doctrine of necessity.\n\n64. It is universally allowed that matter, in all its operations, is\nactuated by a necessary force, and that every natural effect is so\nprecisely determined by the energy of its cause that no other effect, in\nsuch particular circumstances, could possibly have resulted from it. The\ndegree and direction of every motion is, by the laws of nature,\nprescribed with such exactness that a living creature may as soon arise\nfrom the shock of two bodies as motion in any other degree or direction\nthan what is actually produced by it. Would we, therefore, form a just\nand precise idea of _necessity_, we must consider whence that idea\narises when we apply it to the operation of bodies.\n\nIt seems evident that, if all the scenes of nature were continually\nshifted in such a manner that no two events bore any resemblance to each\nother, but every object was entirely new, without any similitude to\nwhatever had been seen before, we should never, in that case, have\nattained the least idea of necessity, or of a connexion among these\nobjects. We might say, upon such a supposition, that one object or event\nhas followed another; not that one was produced by the other. The\nrelation of cause and effect must be utterly unknown to mankind.\nInference and reasoning concerning the operations of nature would, from\nthat moment, be at an end; and the memory and senses remain the only\ncanals, by which the knowledge of any real existence could possibly have\naccess to the mind. Our idea, therefore, of necessity and causation\narises entirely from the uniformity observable in the operations of\nnature, where similar objects are constantly conjoined together, and the\nmind is determined by custom to infer the one from the appearance of the\nother. These two circumstances form the whole of that necessity, which\nwe ascribe to matter. Beyond the constant _conjunction_ of similar\nobjects, and the consequent _inference_ from one to the other, we have\nno notion of any necessity or connexion.\n\nIf it appear, therefore, that all mankind have ever allowed, without any\ndoubt or hesitation, that these two circumstances take place in the\nvoluntary actions of men, and in the operations of mind; it must follow,\nthat all mankind have ever agreed in the doctrine of necessity, and that\nthey have hitherto disputed, merely for not understanding each other.\n\n65. As to the first circumstance, the constant and regular conjunction\nof similar events, we may possibly satisfy ourselves by the following\nconsiderations. It is universally acknowledged that there is a great\nuniformity among the actions of men, in all nations and ages, and that\nhuman nature remains still the same, in its principles and operations.\nThe same motives always produce the same actions. The same events follow\nfrom the same causes. Ambition, avarice, self-love, vanity, friendship,\ngenerosity, public spirit: these passions, mixed in various degrees, and\ndistributed through society, have been, from the beginning of the world,\nand still are, the source of all the actions and enterprises, which have\never been observed among mankind. Would you know the sentiments,\ninclinations, and course of life of the Greeks and Romans? Study well\nthe temper and actions of the French and English: You cannot be much\nmistaken in transferring to the former _most_ of the observations which\nyou have made with regard to the latter. Mankind are so much the same,\nin all times and places, that history informs us of nothing new or\nstrange in this particular. Its chief use is only to discover the\nconstant and universal principles of human nature, by showing men in all\nvarieties of circumstances and situations, and furnishing us with\nmaterials from which we may form our observations and become acquainted\nwith the regular springs of human action and behaviour. These records of\nwars, intrigues, factions, and revolutions, are so many collections of\nexperiments, by which the politician or moral philosopher fixes the\nprinciples of his science, in the same manner as the physician or\nnatural philosopher becomes acquainted with the nature of plants,\nminerals, and other external objects, by the experiments which he forms\nconcerning them. Nor are the earth, water, and other elements, examined\nby Aristotle, and Hippocrates, more like to those which at present lie\nunder our observation than the men described by Polybius and Tacitus are\nto those who now govern the world.\n\nShould a traveller, returning from a far country, bring us an account of\nmen, wholly different from any with whom we were ever acquainted; men,\nwho were entirely divested of avarice, ambition, or revenge; who knew no\npleasure but friendship, generosity, and public spirit; we should\nimmediately, from these circumstances, detect the falsehood, and prove\nhim a liar, with the same certainty as if he had stuffed his narration\nwith stories of centaurs and dragons, miracles and prodigies. And if we\nwould explode any forgery in history, we cannot make use of a more\nconvincing argument, than to prove, that the actions ascribed to any\nperson are directly contrary to the course of nature, and that no human\nmotives, in such circumstances, could ever induce him to such a conduct.\nThe veracity of Quintus Curtius is as much to be suspected, when he\ndescribes the supernatural courage of Alexander, by which he was hurried\non singly to attack multitudes, as when he describes his supernatural\nforce and activity, by which he was able to resist them. So readily and\nuniversally do we acknowledge a uniformity in human motives and actions\nas well as in the operations of body.\n\nHence likewise the benefit of that experience, acquired by long life and\na variety of business and company, in order to instruct us in the\nprinciples of human nature, and regulate our future conduct, as well as\nspeculation. By means of this guide, we mount up to the knowledge of\nmen's inclinations and motives, from their actions, expressions, and\neven gestures; and again descend to the interpretation of their actions\nfrom our knowledge of their motives and inclinations. The general\nobservations treasured up by a course of experience, give us the clue of\nhuman nature, and teach us to unravel all its intricacies. Pretexts and\nappearances no longer deceive us. Public declarations pass for the\nspecious colouring of a cause. And though virtue and honour be allowed\ntheir proper weight and authority, that perfect disinterestedness, so\noften pretended to, is never expected in multitudes and parties; seldom\nin their leaders; and scarcely even in individuals of any rank or\nstation. But were there no uniformity in human actions, and were every\nexperiment which we could form of this kind irregular and anomalous, it\nwere impossible to collect any general observations concerning mankind;\nand no experience, however accurately digested by reflection, would ever\nserve to any purpose. Why is the aged husbandman more skilful in his\ncalling than the young beginner but because there is a certain\nuniformity in the operation of the sun, rain, and earth towards the\nproduction of vegetables; and experience teaches the old practitioner\nthe rules by which this operation is governed and directed.\n\n66. We must not, however, expect that this uniformity of human actions\nshould be carried to such a length as that all men, in the same\ncircumstances, will always act precisely in the same manner, without\nmaking any allowance for the diversity of characters, prejudices, and\nopinions. Such a uniformity in every particular, is found in no part of\nnature. On the contrary, from observing the variety of conduct in\ndifferent men, we are enabled to form a greater variety of maxims, which\nstill suppose a degree of uniformity and regularity.\n\nAre the manners of men different in different ages and countries? We\nlearn thence the great force of custom and education, which mould the\nhuman mind from its infancy and form it into a fixed and established\ncharacter. Is the behaviour and conduct of the one sex very unlike that\nof the other? Is it thence we become acquainted with the different\ncharacters which nature has impressed upon the sexes, and which she\npreserves with constancy and regularity? Are the actions of the same\nperson much diversified in the different periods of his life, from\ninfancy to old age? This affords room for many general observations\nconcerning the gradual change of our sentiments and inclinations, and\nthe different maxims which prevail in the different ages of human\ncreatures. Even the characters, which are peculiar to each individual,\nhave a uniformity in their influence; otherwise our acquaintance with\nthe persons and our observation of their conduct could never teach us\ntheir dispositions, or serve to direct our behaviour with regard\nto them.\n\n67. I grant it possible to find some actions, which seem to have no\nregular connexion with any known motives, and are exceptions to all the\nmeasures of conduct which have ever been established for the government\nof men. But if we would willingly know what judgement should be formed\nof such irregular and extraordinary actions, we may consider the\nsentiments commonly entertained with regard to those irregular events\nwhich appear in the course of nature, and the operations of external\nobjects. All causes are not conjoined to their usual effects with like\nuniformity. An artificer, who handles only dead matter, may be\ndisappointed of his aim, as well as the politician, who directs the\nconduct of sensible and intelligent agents.\n\nThe vulgar, who take things according to their first appearance,\nattribute the uncertainty of events to such an uncertainty in the causes\nas makes the latter often fail of their usual influence; though they\nmeet with no impediment in their operation. But philosophers, observing\nthat, almost in every part of nature, there is contained a vast variety\nof springs and principles, which are hid, by reason of their minuteness\nor remoteness, find, that it is at least possible the contrariety of\nevents may not proceed from any contingency in the cause, but from the\nsecret operation of contrary causes. This possibility is converted into\ncertainty by farther observation, when they remark that, upon an exact\nscrutiny, a contrariety of effects always betrays a contrariety of\ncauses, and proceeds from their mutual opposition. A peasant can give no\nbetter reason for the stopping of any clock or watch than to say that it\ndoes not commonly go right: But an artist easily perceives that the same\nforce in the spring or pendulum has always the same influence on the\nwheels; but fails of its usual effect, perhaps by reason of a grain of\ndust, which puts a stop to the whole movement. From the observation of\nseveral parallel instances, philosophers form a maxim that the connexion\nbetween all causes and effects is equally necessary, and that its\nseeming uncertainty in some instances proceeds from the secret\nopposition of contrary causes.\n\nThus, for instance, in the human body, when the usual symptoms of health\nor sickness disappoint our expectation; when medicines operate not with\ntheir wonted powers; when irregular events follow from any particular\ncause; the philosopher and physician are not surprised at the matter,\nnor are ever tempted to deny, in general, the necessity and uniformity\nof those principles by which the animal economy is conducted. They know\nthat a human body is a mighty complicated machine: That many secret\npowers lurk in it, which are altogether beyond our comprehension: That\nto us it must often appear very uncertain in its operations: And that\ntherefore the irregular events, which outwardly discover themselves, can\nbe no proof that the laws of nature are not observed with the greatest\nregularity in its internal operations and government.\n\n68. The philosopher, if he be consistent, must apply the same reasoning\nto the actions and volitions of intelligent agents. The most irregular\nand unexpected resolutions of men may frequently be accounted for by\nthose who know every particular circumstance of their character and\nsituation. A person of an obliging disposition gives a peevish answer:\nBut he has the toothache, or has not dined. A stupid fellow discovers an\nuncommon alacrity in his carriage: But he has met with a sudden piece of\ngood fortune. Or even when an action, as sometimes happens, cannot be\nparticularly accounted for, either by the person himself or by others;\nwe know, in general, that the characters of men are, to a certain\ndegree, inconstant and irregular. This is, in a manner, the constant\ncharacter of human nature; though it be applicable, in a more particular\nmanner, to some persons who have no fixed rule for their conduct, but\nproceed in a continued course of caprice and inconstancy. The internal\nprinciples and motives may operate in a uniform manner, notwithstanding\nthese seeming irregularities; in the same manner as the winds, rain,\nclouds, and other variations of the weather are supposed to be governed\nby steady principles; though not easily discoverable by human sagacity\nand enquiry.\n\n69. Thus it appears, not only that the conjunction between motives and\nvoluntary actions is as regular and uniform as that between the cause\nand effect in any part of nature; but also that this regular conjunction\nhas been universally acknowledged among mankind, and has never been the\nsubject of dispute, either in philosophy or common life. Now, as it is\nfrom past experience that we draw all inferences concerning the future,\nand as we conclude that objects will always be conjoined together which\nwe find to have always been conjoined; it may seem superfluous to prove\nthat this experienced uniformity in human actions is a source whence we\ndraw _inferences_ concerning them. But in order to throw the argument\ninto a greater variety of lights we shall also insist, though briefly,\non this latter topic.\n\nThe mutual dependence of men is so great in all societies that scarce\nany human action is entirely complete in itself, or is performed without\nsome reference to the actions of others, which are requisite to make it\nanswer fully the intention of the agent. The poorest artificer, who\nlabours alone, expects at least the protection of the magistrate, to\nensure him the enjoyment of the fruits of his labour. He also expects\nthat, when he carries his goods to market, and offers them at a\nreasonable price, he shall find purchasers, and shall be able, by the\nmoney he acquires, to engage others to supply him with those commodities\nwhich are requisite for his subsistence. In proportion as men extend\ntheir dealings, and render their intercourse with others more\ncomplicated, they always comprehend, in their schemes of life, a greater\nvariety of voluntary actions, which they expect, from the proper\nmotives, to co-operate with their own. In all these conclusions they\ntake their measures from past experience, in the same manner as in their\nreasonings concerning external objects; and firmly believe that men, as\nwell as all the elements, are to continue, in their operations, the same\nthat they have ever found them. A manufacturer reckons upon the labour\nof his servants for the execution of any work as much as upon the tools\nwhich he employs, and would be equally surprised were his expectations\ndisappointed. In short, this experimental inference and reasoning\nconcerning the actions of others enters so much into human life that no\nman, while awake, is ever a moment without employing it. Have we not\nreason, therefore, to affirm that all mankind have always agreed in the\ndoctrine of necessity according to the foregoing definition and\nexplication of it?\n\n70. Nor have philosophers ever entertained a different opinion from the\npeople in this particular. For, not to mention that almost every action\nof their life supposes that opinion, there are even few of the\nspeculative parts of learning to which it is not essential. What would\nbecome of _history,_ had we not a dependence on the veracity of the\nhistorian according to the experience which we have had of mankind? How\ncould _politics_ be a science, if laws and forms of goverment had not a\nuniform influence upon society? Where would be the foundation of\n_morals,_ if particular characters had no certain or determinate power\nto produce particular sentiments, and if these sentiments had no\nconstant operation on actions? And with what pretence could we employ\nour _criticism_ upon any poet or polite author, if we could not\npronounce the conduct and sentiments of his actors either natural or\nunnatural to such characters, and in such circumstances? It seems almost\nimpossible, therefore, to engage either in science or action of any kind\nwithout acknowledging the doctrine of necessity, and this _inference_\nfrom motive to voluntary actions, from characters to conduct.\n\nAnd indeed, when we consider how aptly _natural_ and _moral_ evidence\nlink together, and form only one chain of argument, we shall make no\nscruple to allow that they are of the same nature, and derived from the\nsame principles. A prisoner who has neither money nor interest,\ndiscovers the impossibility of his escape, as well when he considers the\nobstinacy of the gaoler, as the walls and bars with which he is\nsurrounded; and, in all attempts for his freedom, chooses rather to work\nupon the stone and iron of the one, than upon the inflexible nature of\nthe other. The same prisoner, when conducted to the scaffold, foresees\nhis death as certainly from the constancy and fidelity of his guards, as\nfrom the operation of the axe or wheel. His mind runs along a certain\ntrain of ideas: The refusal of the soldiers to consent to his escape;\nthe action of the executioner; the separation of the head and body;\nbleeding, convulsive motions, and death. Here is a connected chain of\nnatural causes and voluntary actions; but the mind feels no difference\nbetween them in passing from one link to another: Nor is less certain of\nthe future event than if it were connected with the objects present to\nthe memory or senses, by a train of causes, cemented together by what we\nare pleased to call a _physical_ necessity. The same experienced union\nhas the same effect on the mind, whether the united objects be motives,\nvolition, and actions; or figure and motion. We may change the name of\nthings; but their nature and their operation on the understanding\nnever change.\n\nWere a man, whom I know to be honest and opulent, and with whom I live\nin intimate friendship, to come into my house, where I am surrounded\nwith my servants, I rest assured that he is not to stab me before he\nleaves it in order to rob me of my silver standish; and I no more\nsuspect this event than the falling of the house itself, which is new,\nand solidly built and founded._--But he may have been seized with a\nsudden and unknown frenzy.--_So may a sudden earthquake arise, and shake\nand tumble my house about my ears. I shall therefore change the\nsuppositions. I shall say that I know with certainty that he is not to\nput his hand into the fire and hold it there till it be consumed: And\nthis event, I think I can foretell with the same assurance, as that, if\nhe throw himself out at the window, and meet with no obstruction, he\nwill not remain a moment suspended in the air. No suspicion of an\nunknown frenzy can give the least possibility to the former event, which\nis so contrary to all the known principles of human nature. A man who at\nnoon leaves his purse full of gold on the pavement at Charing-Cross, may\nas well expect that it will fly away like a feather, as that he will\nfind it untouched an hour after. Above one half of human reasonings\ncontain inferences of a similar nature, attended with more or less\ndegrees of certainty proportioned to our experience of the usual conduct\nof mankind in such particular situations.\n\n71. I have frequently considered, what could possibly be the reason why\nall mankind, though they have ever, without hesitation, acknowledged the\ndoctrine of necessity in their whole practice and reasoning, have yet\ndiscovered such a reluctance to acknowledge it in words, and have rather\nshown a propensity, in all ages, to profess the contrary opinion. The\nmatter, I think, may be accounted for after the following manner. If we\nexamine the operations of body, and the production of effects from their\ncauses, we shall find that all our faculties can never carry us farther\nin our knowledge of this relation than barely to observe that particular\nobjects are _constantly conjoined_ together, and that the mind is\ncarried, by a _customary transition,_ from the appearance of one to the\nbelief of the other. But though this conclusion concerning human\nignorance be the result of the strictest scrutiny of this subject, men\nstill entertain a strong propensity to believe that they penetrate\nfarther into the powers of nature, and perceive something like a\nnecessary connexion between the cause and the effect. When again they\nturn their reflections towards the operations of their own minds, and\n_feel_ no such connexion of the motive and the action; they are thence\napt to suppose, that there is a difference between the effects which\nresult from material force, and those which arise from thought and\nintelligence. But being once convinced that we know nothing farther of\ncausation of any kind than merely the _constant conjunction_ of objects,\nand the consequent _inference_ of the mind from one to another, and\nfinding that these two circumstances are universally allowed to have\nplace in voluntary actions; we may be more easily led to own the same\nnecessity common to all causes. And though this reasoning may contradict\nthe systems of many philosophers, in ascribing necessity to the\ndeterminations of the will, we shall find, upon reflection, that they\ndissent from it in words only, not in their real sentiment. Necessity,\naccording to the sense in which it is here taken, has never yet been\nrejected, nor can ever, I think, be rejected by any philosopher. It may\nonly, perhaps, be pretended that the mind can perceive, in the\noperations of matter, some farther connexion between the cause and\neffect; and connexion that has not place in voluntary actions of\nintelligent beings. Now whether it be so or not, can only appear upon\nexamination; and it is incumbent on these philosophers to make good\ntheir assertion, by defining or describing that necessity, and pointing\nit out to us in the operations of material causes.\n\n72. It would seem, indeed, that men begin at the wrong end of this\nquestion concerning liberty and necessity, when they enter upon it by\nexamining the faculties of the soul, the influence of the understanding,\nand the operations of the will. Let them first discuss a more simple\nquestion, namely, the operations of body and of brute unintelligent\nmatter; and try whether they can there form any idea of causation and\nnecessity, except that of a constant conjunction of objects, and\nsubsequent inference of the mind from one to another. If these\ncircumstances form, in reality, the whole of that necessity, which we\nconceive in matter, and if these circumstances be also universally\nacknowledged to take place in the operations of the mind, the dispute is\nat an end; at least, must be owned to be thenceforth merely verbal. But\nas long as we will rashly suppose, that we have some farther idea of\nnecessity and causation in the operations of external objects; at the\nsame time, that we can find nothing farther in the voluntary actions of\nthe mind; there is no possibility of bringing the question to any\ndeterminate issue, while we proceed upon so erroneous a supposition. The\nonly method of undeceiving us is to mount up higher; to examine the\nnarrow extent of science when applied to material causes; and to\nconvince ourselves that all we know of them is the constant conjunction\nand inference above mentioned. We may, perhaps, find that it is with\ndifficulty we are induced to fix such narrow limits to human\nunderstanding: But we can afterwards find no difficulty when we come to\napply this doctrine to the actions of the will. For as it is evident\nthat these have a regular conjunction with motives and circumstances and\ncharacters, and as we always draw inferences from one to the other, we\nmust be obliged to acknowledge in words that necessity, which we have\nalready avowed, in every deliberation of our lives, and in every step of\nour conduct and behaviour.[17]\n\n    [17] The prevalence of the doctrine of liberty may be accounted\n    for, from another cause, viz. a false sensation or seeming\n    experience which we have, or may have, of liberty or\n    indifference, in many of our actions. The necessity of any\n    action, whether of matter or of mind, is not, properly\n    speaking, a quality in the agent, but in any thinking or\n    intelligent being, who may consider the action; and it consists\n    chiefly in the determination of his thoughts to infer the\n    existence of that action from some preceding objects; as\n    liberty, when opposed to necessity, is nothing but the want of\n    that determination, and a certain looseness or indifference,\n    which we feel, in passing, or not passing, from the idea of one\n    object to that of any succeeding one. Now we may observe,\n    that, though, in _reflecting_ on human actions, we seldom feel\n    such a looseness, or indifference, but are commonly able to\n    infer them with considerable certainty from their motives, and\n    from the dispositions of the agent; yet it frequently happens,\n    that, in _performing_ the actions themselves, we are sensible\n    of something like it: And as all resembling objects are readily\n    taken for each other, this has been employed as a demonstrative\n    and even intuitive proof of human liberty. We feel, that our\n    actions are subject to our will, on most occasions; and imagine\n    we feel, that the will itself is subject to nothing, because,\n    when by a denial of it we are provoked to try, we feel, that it\n    moves easily every way, and produces an image of itself (or a\n    _Velleity,_ as it is called in the schools) even on that side,\n    on which it did not settle. This image, or faint motion, we\n    persuade ourselves, could, at that time, have been compleated\n    into the thing itself; because, should that be denied, we find,\n    upon a second trial, that, at present, it can. We consider not,\n    that the fantastical desire of shewing liberty, is here the\n    motive of our actions. And it seems certain, that, however we\n    may imagine we feel a liberty within ourselves, a spectator can\n    commonly infer our actions from our motives and character; and\n    even where he cannot, he concludes in general, that he might,\n    were he perfectly acquainted with every circumstance of our\n    situation and temper, and the most secret springs of our\n    complexion and disposition. Now this is the very essence of\n    necessity, according to the foregoing doctrine.\n\n73. But to proceed in this reconciling project with regard to the\nquestion of liberty and necessity; the most contentious question of\nmetaphysics, the most contentious science; it will not require many\nwords to prove, that all mankind have ever agreed in the doctrine of\nliberty as well as in that of necessity, and that the whole dispute, in\nthis respect also, has been hitherto merely verbal. For what is meant by\nliberty, when applied to voluntary actions? We cannot surely mean that\nactions have so little connexion with motives, inclinations, and\ncircumstances, that one does not follow with a certain degree of\nuniformity from the other, and that one affords no inference by which we\ncan conclude the existence of the other. For these are plain and\nacknowledged matters of fact. By liberty, then, we can only mean _a\npower of acting or not acting, according to the determinations of the\nwill;_ that is, if we choose to remain at rest, we may; if we choose to\nmove, we also may. Now this hypothetical liberty is universally allowed\nto belong to every one who is not a prisoner and in chains. Here, then,\nis no subject of dispute.\n\n74. Whatever definition we may give of liberty, we should be careful to\nobserve two requisite circumstances; _first,_ that it be consistent with\nplain matter of fact; _secondly,_ that it be consistent with itself. If\nwe observe these circumstances, and render our definition intelligible,\nI am persuaded that all mankind will be found of one opinion with\nregard to it.\n\nIt is universally allowed that nothing exists without a cause of its\nexistence, and that chance, when strictly examined, is a mere negative\nword, and means not any real power which has anywhere a being in nature.\nBut it is pretended that some causes are necessary, some not necessary.\nHere then is the advantage of definitions. Let any one _define_ a cause,\nwithout comprehending, as a part of the definition, a _necessary\nconnexion_ with its effect; and let him show distinctly the origin of\nthe idea, expressed by the definition; and I shall readily give up the\nwhole controversy. But if the foregoing explication of the matter be\nreceived, this must be absolutely impracticable. Had not objects a\nregular conjunction with each other, we should never have entertained\nany notion of cause and effect; and this regular conjunction produces\nthat inference of the understanding, which is the only connexion, that\nwe can have any comprehension of. Whoever attempts a definition of\ncause, exclusive of these circumstances, will be obliged either to\nemploy unintelligible terms or such as are synonymous to the term which\nhe endeavours to define.[18] And if the definition above mentioned be\nadmitted; liberty, when opposed to necessity, not to constraint, is the\nsame thing with chance; which is universally allowed to have no\nexistence.\n\n    [18] Thus, if a cause be defined, _that which produces any\n    thing;_ it is easy to observe, that _producing_ is synonymous\n    to _causing._ In like manner, if a cause be defined, _that by\n    which any thing exists;_ this is liable to the same objection.\n    For what is meant by these words, _by which?_ Had it been said,\n    that a cause is _that_ after which _any thing constantly\n    exists;_ we should have understood the terms. For this is,\n    indeed, all we know of the matter. And this constancy forms the\n    very essence of necessity, nor have we any other idea of it.\n\n\nPART II.\n\n\n75. There is no method of reasoning more common, and yet none more\nblameable, than, in philosophical disputes, to endeavour the refutation\nof any hypothesis, by a pretence of its dangerous consequences to\nreligion and morality. When any opinion leads to absurdities, it is\ncertainly false; but it is not certain that an opinion is false, because\nit is of dangerous consequence. Such topics, therefore, ought entirely\nto be forborne; as serving nothing to the discovery of truth, but only\nto make the person of an antagonist odious. This I observe in general,\nwithout pretending to draw any advantage from it. I frankly submit to\nan examination of this kind, and shall venture to affirm that the\ndoctrines, both of necessity and of liberty, as above explained, are not\nonly consistent with morality, but are absolutely essential to\nits support.\n\nNecessity may be defined two ways, conformably to the two definitions of\n_cause_, of which it makes an essential part. It consists either in the\nconstant conjunction of like objects, or in the inference of the\nunderstanding from one object to another. Now necessity, in both these\nsenses, (which, indeed, are at bottom the same) has universally, though\ntacitly, in the schools, in the pulpit, and in common life, been allowed\nto belong to the will of man; and no one has ever pretended to deny that\nwe can draw inferences concerning human actions, and that those\ninferences are founded on the experienced union of like actions, with\nlike motives, inclinations, and circumstances. The only particular in\nwhich any one can differ, is, that either, perhaps, he will refuse to\ngive the name of necessity to this property of human actions: But as\nlong as the meaning is understood, I hope the word can do no harm: Or\nthat he will maintain it possible to discover something farther in the\noperations of matter. But this, it must be acknowledged, can be of no\nconsequence to morality or religion, whatever it may be to natural\nphilosophy or metaphysics. We may here be mistaken in asserting that\nthere is no idea of any other necessity or connexion in the actions of\nbody: But surely we ascribe nothing to the actions of the mind, but what\neveryone does, and must readily allow of. We change no circumstance in\nthe received orthodox system with regard to the will, but only in that\nwith regard to material objects and causes. Nothing, therefore, can be\nmore innocent, at least, than this doctrine.\n\n76. All laws being founded on rewards and punishments, it is supposed as\na fundamental principle, that these motives have a regular and uniform\ninfluence on the mind, and both produce the good and prevent the evil\nactions. We may give to this influence what name we please; but, as it\nis usually conjoined with the action, it must be esteemed a _cause_, and\nbe looked upon as an instance of that necessity, which we would here\nestablish.\n\nThe only proper object of hatred or vengeance is a person or creature,\nendowed with thought and consciousness; and when any criminal or\ninjurious actions excite that passion, it is only by their relation to\nthe person, or connexion with him. Actions are, by their very nature,\ntemporary and perishing; and where they proceed not from some _cause_ in\nthe character and disposition of the person who performed them, they can\nneither redound to his honour, if good; nor infamy, if evil. The actions\nthemselves may be blameable; they may be contrary to all the rules of\nmorality and religion: But the person is not answerable for them; and as\nthey proceeded from nothing in him that is durable and constant, and\nleave nothing of that nature behind them, it is impossible he can, upon\ntheir account, become the object of punishment or vengeance. According\nto the principle, therefore, which denies necessity, and consequently\ncauses, a man is as pure and untainted, after having committed the most\nhorrid crime, as at the first moment of his birth, nor is his character\nanywise concerned in his actions, since they are not derived from it,\nand the wickedness of the one can never be used as a proof of the\ndepravity of the other.\n\nMen are not blamed for such actions as they perform ignorantly and\ncasually, whatever may be the consequences. Why? but because the\nprinciples of these actions are only momentary, and terminate in them\nalone. Men are less blamed for such actions as they perform hastily and\nunpremeditately than for such as proceed from deliberation. For what\nreason? but because a hasty temper, though a constant cause or\nprinciple in the mind, operates only by intervals, and infects not the\nwhole character. Again, repentance wipes off every crime, if attended\nwith a reformation of life and manners. How is this to be accounted for?\nbut by asserting that actions render a person criminal merely as they\nare proofs of criminal principles in the mind; and when, by an\nalteration of these principles, they cease to be just proofs, they\nlikewise cease to be criminal. But, except upon the doctrine of\nnecessity, they never were just proofs, and consequently never\nwere criminal.\n\n77. It will be equally easy to prove, and from the same arguments, that\n_liberty_, according to that definition above mentioned, in which all\nmen agree, is also essential to morality, and that no human actions,\nwhere it is wanting, are susceptible of any moral qualities, or can be\nthe objects either of approbation or dislike. For as actions are objects\nof our moral sentiment, so far only as they are indications of the\ninternal character, passions, and affections; it is impossible that they\ncan give rise either to praise or blame, where they proceed not from\nthese principles, but are derived altogether from external violence.\n\n78. I pretend not to have obviated or removed all objections to this\ntheory, with regard to necessity and liberty. I can foresee other\nobjections, derived from topics which have not here been treated of. It\nmay be said, for instance, that, if voluntary actions be subjected to\nthe same laws of necessity with the operations of matter, there is a\ncontinued chain of necessary causes, pre-ordained and pre-determined,\nreaching from the original cause of all to every single volition of\nevery human creature. No contingency anywhere in the universe; no\nindifference; no liberty. While we act, we are, at the same time, acted\nupon. The ultimate Author of all our volitions is the Creator of the\nworld, who first bestowed motion on this immense machine, and placed all\nbeings in that particular position, whence every subsequent event, by\nan inevitable necessity, must result. Human actions, therefore, either\ncan have no moral turpitude at all, as proceeding from so good a cause;\nor if they have any turpitude, they must involve our Creator in the same\nguilt, while he is acknowledged to be their ultimate cause and author.\nFor as a man, who fired a mine, is answerable for all the consequences\nwhether the train he employed be long or short; so wherever a continued\nchain of necessary causes is fixed, that Being, either finite or\ninfinite, who produces the first, is likewise the author of all the\nrest, and must both bear the blame and acquire the praise which belong\nto them. Our clear and unalterable ideas of morality establish this\nrule, upon unquestionable reasons, when we examine the consequences of\nany human action; and these reasons must still have greater force when\napplied to the volitions and intentions of a Being infinitely wise and\npowerful. Ignorance or impotence may be pleaded for so limited a\ncreature as man; but those imperfections have no place in our Creator.\nHe foresaw, he ordained, he intended all those actions of men, which we\nso rashly pronounce criminal. And we must therefore conclude, either\nthat they are not criminal, or that the Deity, not man, is accountable\nfor them. But as either of these positions is absurd and impious, it\nfollows, that the doctrine from which they are deduced cannot possibly\nbe true, as being liable to all the same objections. An absurd\nconsequence, if necessary, proves the original doctrine to be absurd; in\nthe same manner as criminal actions render criminal the original cause,\nif the connexion between them be necessary and evitable.\n\nThis objection consists of two parts, which we shall examine separately;\n_First_, that, if human actions can be traced up, by a necessary chain,\nto the Deity, they can never be criminal; on account of the infinite\nperfection of that Being from whom they are derived, and who can intend\nnothing but what is altogether good and laudable. Or, _Secondly_, if\nthey be criminal, we must retract the attribute of perfection, which we\nascribe to the Deity, and must acknowledge him to be the ultimate author\nof guilt and moral turpitude in all his creatures.\n\n79. The answer to the first objection seems obvious and convincing.\nThere are many philosophers who, after an exact scrutiny of all the\nphenomena of nature, conclude, that the WHOLE, considered as one system,\nis, in every period of its existence, ordered with perfect benevolence;\nand that the utmost possible happiness will, in the end, result to all\ncreated beings, without any mixture of positive or absolute ill or\nmisery. Every physical ill, say they, makes an essential part of this\nbenevolent system, and could not possibly be removed, even by the Deity\nhimself, considered as a wise agent, without giving entrance to greater\nill, or excluding greater good, which will result from it. From this\ntheory, some philosophers, and the ancient _Stoics_ among the rest,\nderived a topic of consolation under all afflictions, while they taught\ntheir pupils that those ills under which they laboured were, in reality,\ngoods to the universe; and that to an enlarged view, which could\ncomprehend the whole system of nature, every event became an object of\njoy and exultation. But though this topic be specious and sublime, it\nwas soon found in practice weak and ineffectual. You would surely more\nirritate than appease a man lying under the racking pains of the gout by\npreaching up to him the rectitude of those general laws, which produced\nthe malignant humours in his body, and led them through the proper\ncanals, to the sinews and nerves, where they now excite such acute\ntorments. These enlarged views may, for a moment, please the imagination\nof a speculative man, who is placed in ease and security; but neither\ncan they dwell with constancy on his mind, even though undisturbed by\nthe emotions of pain or passion; much less can they maintain their\nground when attacked by such powerful antagonists. The affections take a\nnarrower and more natural survey of their object; and by an economy,\nmore suitable to the infirmity of human minds, regard alone the beings\naround us, and are actuated by such events as appear good or ill to the\nprivate system.\n\n80. The case is the same with _moral_ as with _physical_ ill. It cannot\nreasonably be supposed, that those remote considerations, which are\nfound of so little efficacy with regard to one, will have a more\npowerful influence with regard to the other. The mind of man is so\nformed by nature that, upon the appearance of certain characters,\ndispositions, and actions, it immediately feels the sentiment of\napprobation or blame; nor are there any emotions more essential to its\nframe and constitution. The characters which engage our approbation are\nchiefly such as contribute to the peace and security of human society;\nas the characters which excite blame are chiefly such as tend to public\ndetriment and disturbance: Whence it may reasonably be presumed, that\nthe moral sentiments arise, either mediately or immediately, from a\nreflection of these opposite interests. What though philosophical\nmeditations establish a different opinion or conjecture; that everything\nis right with regard to the WHOLE, and that the qualities, which disturb\nsociety, are, in the main, as beneficial, and are as suitable to the\nprimary intention of nature as those which more directly promote its\nhappiness and welfare? Are such remote and uncertain speculations able\nto counterbalance the sentiments which arise from the natural and\nimmediate view of the objects? A man who is robbed of a considerable\nsum; does he find his vexation for the loss anywise diminished by these\nsublime reflections? Why then should his moral resentment against the\ncrime be supposed incompatible with them? Or why should not the\nacknowledgment of a real distinction between vice and virtue be\nreconcileable to all speculative systems of philosophy, as well as that\nof a real distinction between personal beauty and deformity? Both these\ndistinctions are founded in the natural sentiments of the human mind:\nAnd these sentiments are not to be controuled or altered by any\nphilosophical theory or speculation whatsoever.\n\n81. The _second_ objection admits not of so easy and satisfactory an\nanswer; nor is it possible to explain distinctly, how the Deity can be\nthe mediate cause of all the actions of men, without being the author of\nsin and moral turpitude. These are mysteries, which mere natural and\nunassisted reason is very unfit to handle; and whatever system she\nembraces, she must find herself involved in inextricable difficulties,\nand even contradictions, at every step which she takes with regard to\nsuch subjects. To reconcile the indifference and contingency of human\nactions with prescience; or to defend absolute decrees, and yet free the\nDeity from being the author of sin, has been found hitherto to exceed\nall the power of philosophy. Happy, if she be thence sensible of her\ntemerity, when she pries into these sublime mysteries; and leaving a\nscene so full of obscurities and perplexities, return, with suitable\nmodesty, to her true and proper province, the examination of common\nlife; where she will find difficulties enough to employ her enquiries,\nwithout launching into so boundless an ocean of doubt, uncertainty, and\ncontradiction!\n\n\n\nSECTION IX.\n\nOF THE REASON OF ANIMALS.\n\n\n82. All our reasonings concerning matter of fact are founded on a\nspecies of Analogy, which leads us to expect from any cause the same\nevents, which we have observed to result from similar causes. Where the\ncauses are entirely similar, the analogy is perfect, and the inference,\ndrawn from it, is regarded as certain and conclusive: nor does any man\never entertain a doubt, where he sees a piece of iron, that it will have\nweight and cohesion of parts; as in all other instances, which have ever\nfallen under his observation. But where the objects have not so exact a\nsimilarity, the analogy is less perfect, and the inference is less\nconclusive; though still it has some force, in proportion to the degree\nof similarity and resemblance. The anatomical observations, formed upon\none animal, are, by this species of reasoning, extended to all animals;\nand it is certain, that when the circulation of the blood, for instance,\nis clearly proved to have place in one creature, as a frog, or fish, it\nforms a strong presumption, that the same principle has place in all.\nThese analogical observations may be carried farther, even to this\nscience, of which we are now treating; and any theory, by which we\nexplain the operations of the understanding, or the origin and connexion\nof the passions in man, will acquire additional authority, if we find,\nthat the same theory is requisite to explain the same phenomena in all\nother animals. We shall make trial of this, with regard to the\nhypothesis, by which we have, in the foregoing discourse, endeavoured\nto account for all experimental reasonings; and it is hoped, that this\nnew point of view will serve to confirm all our former observations.\n\n83. _First_, It seems evident, that animals as well as men learn many\nthings from experience, and infer, that the same events will always\nfollow from the same causes. By this principle they become acquainted\nwith the more obvious properties of external objects, and gradually,\nfrom their birth, treasure up a knowledge of the nature of fire, water,\nearth, stones, heights, depths, &c., and of the effects which result\nfrom their operation. The ignorance and inexperience of the young are\nhere plainly distinguishable from the cunning and sagacity of the old,\nwho have learned, by long observation, to avoid what hurt them, and to\npursue what gave ease or pleasure. A horse, that has been accustomed to\nthe field, becomes acquainted with the proper height which he can leap,\nand will never attempt what exceeds his force and ability. An old\ngreyhound will trust the more fatiguing part of the chace to the\nyounger, and will place himself so as to meet the hare in her doubles;\nnor are the conjectures, which he forms on this occasion, founded in any\nthing but his observation and experience.\n\nThis is still more evident from the effects of discipline and education\non animals, who, by the proper application of rewards and punishments,\nmay be taught any course of action, and most contrary to their natural\ninstincts and propensities. Is it not experience, which renders a dog\napprehensive of pain, when you menace him, or lift up the whip to beat\nhim? Is it not even experience, which makes him answer to his name, and\ninfer, from such an arbitrary sound, that you mean him rather than any\nof his fellows, and intend to call him, when you pronounce it in a\ncertain manner, and with a certain tone and accent?\n\nIn all these cases, we may observe, that the animal infers some fact\nbeyond what immediately strikes his senses; and that this inference is\naltogether founded on past experience, while the creature expects from\nthe present object the same consequences, which it has always found in\nits observation to result from similar objects.\n\n84. _Secondly_, It is impossible, that this inference of the animal can\nbe founded on any process of argument or reasoning, by which he\nconcludes, that like events must follow like objects, and that the\ncourse of nature will always be regular in its operations. For if there\nbe in reality any arguments of this nature, they surely lie too abstruse\nfor the observation of such imperfect understandings; since it may well\nemploy the utmost care and attention of a philosophic genius to discover\nand observe them. Animals, therefore, are not guided in these inferences\nby reasoning: Neither are children: Neither are the generality of\nmankind, in their ordinary actions and conclusions: Neither are\nphilosophers themselves, who, in all the active parts of life, are, in\nthe main, the same with the vulgar, and are governed by the same maxims.\nNature must have provided some other principle, of more ready, and more\ngeneral use and application; nor can an operation of such immense\nconsequence in life, as that of inferring effects from causes, be\ntrusted to the uncertain process of reasoning and argumentation. Were\nthis doubtful with regard to men, it seems to admit of no question with\nregard to the brute creation; and the conclusion being once firmly\nestablished in the one, we have a strong presumption, from all the rules\nof analogy, that it ought to be universally admitted, without any\nexception or reserve. It is custom alone, which engages animals, from\nevery object, that strikes their senses, to infer its usual attendant,\nand carries their imagination, from the appearance of the one, to\nconceive the other, in that particular manner, which we denominate\n_belief_. No other explication can be given of this operation, in all\nthe higher, as well as lower classes of sensitive beings, which fall\nunder our notice and observation [19].\n\n    [19] Since all reasonings concerning facts or causes is derived\n    merely from custom, it may be asked how it happens, that men so\n    much surpass animals in reasoning, and one man so much\n    surpasses another? Has not the same custom the same\n    influence on all?\n\n    We shall here endeavour briefly to explain the great difference\n    in human understandings: After which the reason of the\n    difference between men and animals will easily be comprehended.\n\n    1. When we have lived any time, and have been accustomed to the\n    uniformity of nature, we acquire a general habit, by which we\n    always transfer the known to the unknown, and conceive the\n    latter to resemble the former. By means of this general\n    habitual principle, we regard even one experiment as the\n    foundation of reasoning, and expect a similar event with some\n    degree of certainty, where the experiment has been made\n    accurately, and free from all foreign circumstances. It is\n    therefore considered as a matter of great importance to observe\n    the consequences of things; and as one man may very much\n    surpass another in attention and memory and observation, this\n    will make a very great difference in their reasoning.\n\n    2. Where there is a complication of causes to produce any\n    effect, one mind may be much larger than another, and better\n    able to comprehend the whole system of objects, and to infer\n    justly their consequences.\n\n    3. One man is able to carry on a chain of consequences to a\n    greater length than another.\n\n    4. Few men can think long without running into a confusion of\n    ideas, and mistaking one for another; and there are various\n    degrees of this infirmity.\n\n    5. The circumstance, on which the effect depends, is frequently\n    involved in other circumstances, which are foreign and\n    extrinsic. The separation of it often requires great attention,\n    accuracy, and subtilty.\n\n    6. The forming of general maxims from particular observation is\n    a very nice operation; and nothing is more usual, from haste or\n    a narrowness of mind, which sees not on all sides, than to\n    commit mistakes in this particular.\n\n    7. When we reason from analogies, the man, who has the greater\n    experience or the greater promptitude of suggesting analogies,\n    will be the better reasoner.\n\n    8. Byasses from prejudice, education, passion, party, &c. hang\n    more upon one mind than another.\n\n    9. After we have acquired a confidence in human testimony,\n    books and conversation enlarge much more the sphere of one\n    man's experience and thought than those of another.\n\n    It would be easy to discover many other circumstances that make\n    a difference in the understandings of men.\n\n85. But though animals learn many parts of their knowledge from\nobservation, there are also many parts of it, which they derive from the\noriginal hand of nature; which much exceed the share of capacity they\npossess on ordinary occasions; and in which they improve, little or\nnothing, by the longest practice and experience. These we denominate\nInstincts, and are so apt to admire as something very extraordinary, and\ninexplicable by all the disquisitions of human understanding. But our\nwonder will, perhaps, cease or diminish, when we consider, that the\nexperimental reasoning itself, which we possess in common with beasts,\nand on which the whole conduct of life depends, is nothing but a species\nof instinct or mechanical power, that acts in us unknown to ourselves;\nand in its chief operations, is not directed by any such relations or\ncomparisons of ideas, as are the proper objects of our intellectual\nfaculties. Though the instinct be different, yet still it is an\ninstinct, which teaches a man to avoid the fire; as much as that, which\nteaches a bird, with such exactness, the art of incubation, and the\nwhole economy and order of its nursery.\n\n\n\nSECTION X.\n\nOF MIRACLES.\n\n\nPART I.\n\n\n86. There is, in Dr. Tillotson's writings, an argument against the _real\npresence_, which is as concise, and elegant, and strong as any argument\ncan possibly be supposed against a doctrine, so little worthy of a\nserious refutation. It is acknowledged on all hands, says that learned\nprelate, that the authority, either of the scripture or of tradition, is\nfounded merely in the testimony of the apostles, who were eye-witnesses\nto those miracles of our Saviour, by which he proved his divine mission.\nOur evidence, then, for the truth of the _Christian_ religion is less\nthan the evidence for the truth of our senses; because, even in the\nfirst authors of our religion, it was no greater; and it is evident it\nmust diminish in passing from them to their disciples; nor can any one\nrest such confidence in their testimony, as in the immediate object of\nhis senses. But a weaker evidence can never destroy a stronger; and\ntherefore, were the doctrine of the real presence ever so clearly\nrevealed in scripture, it were directly contrary to the rules of just\nreasoning to give our assent to it. It contradicts sense, though both\nthe scripture and tradition, on which it is supposed to be built, carry\nnot such evidence with them as sense; when they are considered merely as\nexternal evidences, and are not brought home to every one's breast, by\nthe immediate operation of the Holy Spirit.\n\nNothing is so convenient as a decisive argument of this kind, which\nmust at least _silence_ the most arrogant bigotry and superstition, and\nfree us from their impertinent solicitations. I flatter myself, that I\nhave discovered an argument of a like nature, which, if just, will, with\nthe wise and learned, be an everlasting check to all kinds of\nsuperstitious delusion, and consequently, will be useful as long as the\nworld endures. For so long, I presume, will the accounts of miracles and\nprodigies be found in all history, sacred and profane.\n\n87. Though experience be our only guide in reasoning concerning matters\nof fact; it must be acknowledged, that this guide is not altogether\ninfallible, but in some cases is apt to lead us into errors. One, who in\nour climate, should expect better weather in any week of June than in\none of December, would reason justly, and conformably to experience; but\nit is certain, that he may happen, in the event, to find himself\nmistaken. However, we may observe, that, in such a case, he would have\nno cause to complain of experience; because it commonly informs us\nbeforehand of the uncertainty, by that contrariety of events, which we\nmay learn from a diligent observation. All effects follow not with like\ncertainty from their supposed causes. Some events are found, in all\ncountries and all ages, to have been constantly conjoined together:\nOthers are found to have been more variable, and sometimes to disappoint\nour expectations; so that, in our reasonings concerning matter of fact,\nthere are all imaginable degrees of assurance, from the highest\ncertainty to the lowest species of moral evidence.\n\nA wise man, therefore, proportions his belief to the evidence. In such\nconclusions as are founded on an infallible experience, he expects the\nevent with the last degree of assurance, and regards his past experience\nas a full _proof_ of the future existence of that event. In other\ncases, he proceeds with more caution: He weighs the opposite\nexperiments: He considers which side is supported by the greater number\nof experiments: to that side he inclines, with doubt and hesitation; and\nwhen at last he fixes his judgement, the evidence exceeds not what we\nproperly call _probability_. All probability, then, supposes an\nopposition of experiments and observations, where the one side is found\nto overbalance the other, and to produce a degree of evidence,\nproportioned to the superiority. A hundred instances or experiments on\none side, and fifty on another, afford a doubtful expectation of any\nevent; though a hundred uniform experiments, with only one that is\ncontradictory, reasonably beget a pretty strong degree of assurance. In\nall cases, we must balance the opposite experiments, where they are\nopposite, and deduct the smaller number from the greater, in order to\nknow the exact force of the superior evidence.\n\n88. To apply these principles to a particular instance; we may observe,\nthat there is no species of reasoning more common, more useful, and even\nnecessary to human life, than that which is derived from the testimony\nof men, and the reports of eye-witnesses and spectators. This species of\nreasoning, perhaps, one may deny to be founded on the relation of cause\nand effect. I shall not dispute about a word. It will be sufficient to\nobserve that our assurance in any argument of this kind is derived from\nno other principle than our observation of the veracity of human\ntestimony, and of the usual conformity of facts to the reports of\nwitnesses. It being a general maxim, that no objects have any\ndiscoverable connexion together, and that all the inferences, which we\ncan draw from one to another, are founded merely on our experience of\ntheir constant and regular conjunction; it is evident, that we ought not\nto make an exception to this maxim in favour of human testimony, whose\nconnexion with any event seems, in itself, as little necessary as any\nother. Were not the memory tenacious to a certain degree, had not men\ncommonly an inclination to truth and a principle of probity; were they\nnot sensible to shame, when detected in a falsehood: Were not these, I\nsay, discovered by experience to be qualities, inherent in human nature,\nwe should never repose the least confidence in human testimony. A man\ndelirious, or noted for falsehood and villany, has no manner of\nauthority with us.\n\nAnd as the evidence, derived from witnesses and human testimony, is\nfounded on past experience, so it varies with the experience, and is\nregarded either as a _proof_ or a _probability_, according as the\nconjunction between any particular kind of report and any kind of object\nhas been found to be constant or variable. There are a number of\ncircumstances to be taken into consideration in all judgements of this\nkind; and the ultimate standard, by which we determine all disputes,\nthat may arise concerning them, is always derived from experience and\nobservation. Where this experience is not entirely uniform on any side,\nit is attended with an unavoidable contrariety in our judgements, and\nwith the same opposition and mutual destruction of argument as in every\nother kind of evidence. We frequently hesitate concerning the reports of\nothers. We balance the opposite circumstances, which cause any doubt or\nuncertainty; and when we discover a superiority on any side, we incline\nto it; but still with a diminution of assurance, in proportion to the\nforce of its antagonist.\n\n89. This contrariety of evidence, in the present case, may be derived\nfrom several different causes; from the opposition of contrary\ntestimony; from the character or number of the witnesses; from the\nmanner of their delivering their testimony; or from the union of all\nthese circumstances. We entertain a suspicion concerning any matter of\nfact, when the witnesses contradict each other; when they are but few,\nor of a doubtful character; when they have an interest in what they\naffirm; when they deliver their testimony with hesitation, or on the\ncontrary, with too violent asseverations. There are many other\nparticulars of the same kind, which may diminish or destroy the force of\nany argument, derived from human testimony.\n\nSuppose, for instance, that the fact, which the testimony endeavours to\nestablish, partakes of the extraordinary and the marvellous; in that\ncase, the evidence, resulting from the testimony, admits of a\ndiminution, greater or less, in proportion as the fact is more or less\nunusual. The reason why we place any credit in witnesses and historians,\nis not derived from any _connexion_, which we perceive _a priori_,\nbetween testimony and reality, but because we are accustomed to find a\nconformity between them. But when the fact attested is such a one as has\nseldom fallen under our observation, here is a contest of two opposite\nexperiences; of which the one destroys the other, as far as its force\ngoes, and the superior can only operate on the mind by the force, which\nremains. The very same principle of experience, which gives us a certain\ndegree of assurance in the testimony of witnesses, gives us also, in\nthis case, another degree of assurance against the fact, which they\nendeavour to establish; from which contradition there necessarily arises\na counterpoize, and mutual destruction of belief and authority.\n\n_I should not believe such a story were it told me by Cato_, was a\nproverbial saying in Rome, even during the lifetime of that\nphilosophical patriot.[20] The incredibility of a fact, it was allowed,\nmight invalidate so great an authority.\n\n    [20] Plutarch, in vita Catonis.\n\nThe Indian prince, who refused to believe the first relations concerning\nthe effects of frost, reasoned justly; and it naturally required very\nstrong testimony to engage his assent to facts, that arose from a state\nof nature, with which he was unacquainted, and which bore so little\nanalogy to those events, of which he had had constant and uniform\nexperience. Though they were not contrary to his experience, they were\nnot conformable to it.[21]\n\n    [21] No Indian, it is evident, could have experience that water\n    did not freeze in cold climates. This is placing nature in a\n    situation quite unknown to him; and it is impossible for him to\n    tell _a priori _what will result from it. It is making a new\n    experiment, the consequence of which is always uncertain. One\n    may sometimes conjecture from analogy what will follow; but\n    still this is but conjecture. And it must be confessed, that,\n    in the present case of freezing, the event follows contrary to\n    the rules of analogy, and is such as a rational Indian would\n    not look for. The operations of cold upon water are not\n    gradual, according to the degrees of cold; but whenever it\n    comes to the freezing point, the water passes in a moment, from\n    the utmost liquidity to perfect hardness. Such an event,\n    therefore, may be denominated _extraordinary_, and requires a\n    pretty strong testimony, to render it credible to people in a\n    warm climate: But still it is not _miraculous_, nor contrary to\n    uniform experience of the course of nature in cases where all\n    the circumstances are the same. The inhabitants of Sumatra\n    have always seen water fluid in their own climate, and the\n    freezing of their rivers ought to be deemed a prodigy: But they\n    never saw water in Muscovy during the winter; and therefore\n    they cannot reasonably be positive what would there be the\n    consequence.\n\n90. But in order to encrease the probability against the testimony of\nwitnesses, let us suppose, that the fact, which they affirm, instead of\nbeing only marvellous, is really miraculous; and suppose also, that the\ntestimony considered apart and in itself, amounts to an entire proof; in\nthat case, there is proof against proof, of which the strongest must\nprevail, but still with a diminution of its force, in proportion to that\nof its antagonist.\n\nA miracle is a violation of the laws of nature; and as a firm and\nunalterable experience has established these laws, the proof against a\nmiracle, from the very nature of the fact, is as entire as any argument\nfrom experience can possibly be imagined. Why is it more than probable,\nthat all men must die; that lead cannot, of itself, remain suspended in\nthe air; that fire consumes wood, and is extinguished by water; unless\nit be, that these events are found agreeable to the laws of nature, and\nthere is required a violation of these laws, or in other words, a\nmiracle to prevent them? Nothing is esteemed a miracle, if it ever\nhappen in the common course of nature. It is no miracle that a man,\nseemingly in good health, should die on a sudden: because such a kind of\ndeath, though more unusual than any other, has yet been frequently\nobserved to happen. But it is a miracle, that a dead man should come to\nlife; because that has never been observed in any age or country. There\nmust, therefore, be a uniform experience against every miraculous event,\notherwise the event would not merit that appellation. And as a uniform\nexperience amounts to a proof, there is here a direct and full _proof_,\nfrom the nature of the fact, against the existence of any miracle; nor\ncan such a proof be destroyed, or the miracle rendered credible, but by\nan opposite proof, which is superior.[22]\n\n    [22] Sometimes an event may not, _in itself_, seem to be\n    contrary to the laws of nature, and yet, if it were real, it\n    might, by reason of some circumstances, be denominated a\n    miracle; because, in _fact_, it is contrary to these laws. Thus\n    if a person, claiming a divine authority, should command a sick\n    person to be well, a healthful man to fall down dead, the\n    clouds to pour rain, the winds to blow, in short, should order\n    many natural events, which immediately follow upon his command;\n    these might justly be esteemed miracles, because they are\n    really, in this case, contrary to the laws of nature. For if\n    any suspicion remain, that the event and command concurred by\n    accident, there is no miracle and no transgression of the laws\n    of nature. If this suspicion be removed, there is evidently a\n    miracle, and a transgression of these laws; because nothing can\n    be more contrary to nature than that the voice or command of a\n    man should have such an influence. A miracle may be accurately\n    defined, _a transgression of a law of nature by a particular\n    volition of the Deity, or by the interposition of some\n    invisible agent_. A miracle may either be discoverable by men\n    or not. This alters not its nature and essence. The raising of\n    a house or ship into the air is a visible miracle. The raising\n    of a feather, when the wind wants ever so little of a force\n    requisite for that purpose, is as real a miracle, though not so\n    sensible with regard to us.\n\n91. The plain consequence is (and it is a general maxim worthy of our\nattention), 'That no testimony is sufficient to establish a miracle,\nunless the testimony be of such a kind, that its falsehood would be more\nmiraculous, than the fact, which it endeavours to establish; and even in\nthat case there is a mutual destruction of arguments, and the superior\nonly gives us an assurance suitable to that degree of force, which\nremains, after deducting the inferior.' When anyone tells me, that he\nsaw a dead man restored to life, I immediately consider with myself,\nwhether it be more probable, that this person should either deceive or\nbe deceived, or that the fact, which he relates, should really have\nhappened. I weigh the one miracle against the other; and according to\nthe superiority, which I discover, I pronounce my decision, and always\nreject the greater miracle. If the falsehood of his testimony would be\nmore miraculous, than the event which he relates; then, and not till\nthen, can he pretend to command my belief or opinion.\n\n\nPART II.\n\n\n92. In the foregoing reasoning we have supposed, that the testimony,\nupon which a miracle is founded, may possibly amount to an entire proof,\nand that the falsehood of that testimony would be a real prodigy: But it\nis easy to shew, that we have been a great deal too liberal in our\nconcession, and that there never was a miraculous event established on\nso full an evidence.\n\nFor _first_, there is not to be found, in all history, any miracle\nattested by a sufficient number of men, of such unquestioned good-sense,\neducation, and learning, as to secure us against all delusion in\nthemselves; of such undoubted integrity, as to place them beyond all\nsuspicion of any design to deceive others; of such credit and reputation\nin the eyes of mankind, as to have a great deal to lose in case of their\nbeing detected in any falsehood; and at the same time, attesting facts\nperformed in such a public manner and in so celebrated a part of the\nworld, as to render the detection unavoidable: All which circumstances\nare requisite to give us a full assurance in the testimony of men.\n\n93. _Secondly_. We may observe in human nature a principle which, if\nstrictly examined, will be found to diminish extremely the assurance,\nwhich we might, from human testimony, have, in any kind of prodigy. The\nmaxim, by which we commonly conduct ourselves in our reasonings, is,\nthat the objects, of which we have no experience, resembles those, of\nwhich we have; that what we have found to be most usual is always most\nprobable; and that where there is an opposition of arguments, we ought\nto give the preference to such as are founded on the greatest number of\npast observations. But though, in proceeding by this rule, we readily\nreject any fact which is unusual and incredible in an ordinary degree;\nyet in advancing farther, the mind observes not always the same rule;\nbut when anything is affirmed utterly absurd and miraculous, it rather\nthe more readily admits of such a fact, upon account of that very\ncircumstance, which ought to destroy all its authority. The passion of\n_surprise_ and _wonder_, arising from miracles, being an agreeable\nemotion, gives a sensible tendency towards the belief of those events,\nfrom which it is derived. And this goes so far, that even those who\ncannot enjoy this pleasure immediately, nor can believe those miraculous\nevents, of which they are informed, yet love to partake of the\nsatisfaction at second-hand or by rebound, and place a pride and delight\nin exciting the admiration of others.\n\nWith what greediness are the miraculous accounts of travellers received,\ntheir descriptions of sea and land monsters, their relations of\nwonderful adventures, strange men, and uncouth manners? But if the\nspirit of religion join itself to the love of wonder, there is an end of\ncommon sense; and human testimony, in these circumstances, loses all\npretensions to authority. A religionist may be an enthusiast, and\nimagine he sees what has no reality: he may know his narrative to be\nfalse, and yet persevere in it, with the best intentions in the world,\nfor the sake of promoting so holy a cause: or even where this delusion\nhas not place, vanity, excited by so strong a temptation, operates on\nhim more powerfully than on the rest of mankind in any other\ncircumstances; and self-interest with equal force. His auditors may not\nhave, and commonly have not, sufficient judgement to canvass his\nevidence: what judgement they have, they renounce by principle, in these\nsublime and mysterious subjects: or if they were ever so willing to\nemploy it, passion and a heated imagination disturb the regularity of\nits operations. Their credulity increases his impudence: and his\nimpudence overpowers their credulity.\n\nEloquence, when at its highest pitch, leaves little room for reason or\nreflection; but addressing itself entirely to the fancy or the\naffections, captivates the willing hearers, and subdues their\nunderstanding. Happily, this pitch it seldom attains. But what a Tully\nor a Demosthenes could scarcely effect over a Roman or Athenian\naudience, every _Capuchin_, every itinerant or stationary teacher can\nperform over the generality of mankind, and in a higher degree, by\ntouching such gross and vulgar passions.\n\nThe many instances of forged miracles, and prophecies, and supernatural\nevents, which, in all ages, have either been detected by contrary\nevidence, or which detect themselves by their absurdity, prove\nsufficiently the strong propensity of mankind to the extraordinary and\nthe marvellous, and ought reasonably to beget a suspicion against all\nrelations of this kind. This is our natural way of thinking, even with\nregard to the most common and most credible events. For instance: There\nis no kind of report which rises so easily, and spreads so quickly,\nespecially in country places and provincial towns, as those concerning\nmarriages; insomuch that two young persons of equal condition never see\neach other twice, but the whole neighbourhood immediately join them\ntogether. The pleasure of telling a piece of news so interesting, of\npropagating it, and of being the first reporters of it, spreads the\nintelligence. And this is so well known, that no man of sense gives\nattention to these reports, till he find them confirmed by some greater\nevidence. Do not the same passions, and others still stronger, incline\nthe generality of mankind to believe and report, with the greatest\nvehemence and assurance, all religious miracles?\n\n94. _Thirdly_. It forms a strong presumption against all supernatural\nand miraculous relations, that they are observed chiefly to abound among\nignorant and barbarous nations; or if a civilized people has ever given\nadmission to any of them, that people will be found to have received\nthem from ignorant and barbarous ancestors, who transmitted them with\nthat inviolable sanction and authority, which always attend received\nopinions. When we peruse the first histories of all nations, we are apt\nto imagine ourselves transported into some new world; where the whole\nframe of nature is disjointed, and every element performs its operations\nin a different manner, from what it does at present. Battles,\nrevolutions, pestilence, famine and death, are never the effect of those\nnatural causes, which we experience. Prodigies, omens, oracles,\njudgements, quite obscure the few natural events, that are intermingled\nwith them. But as the former grow thinner every page, in proportion as\nwe advance nearer the enlightened ages, we soon learn, that there is\nnothing mysterious or supernatural in the case, but that all proceeds\nfrom the usual propensity of mankind towards the marvellous, and that,\nthough this inclination may at intervals receive a check from sense and\nlearning, it can never be thoroughly extirpated from human nature.\n\n_It is strange_, a judicious reader is apt to say, upon the perusal of\nthese wonderful historians, _that such prodigious_ _events never happen\nin our days_. But it is nothing strange, I hope, that men should lie in\nall ages. You must surely have seen instances enough of that frailty.\nYou have yourself heard many such marvellous relations started, which,\nbeing treated with scorn by all the wise and judicious, have at last\nbeen abandoned even by the vulgar. Be assured, that those renowned lies,\nwhich have spread and flourished to such a monstrous height, arose from\nlike beginnings; but being sown in a more proper soil, shot up at last\ninto prodigies almost equal to those which they relate.\n\nIt was a wise policy in that false prophet, Alexander, who though now\nforgotten, was once so famous, to lay the first scene of his impostures\nin Paphlagonia, where, as Lucian tells us, the people were extremely\nignorant and stupid, and ready to swallow even the grossest delusion.\nPeople at a distance, who are weak enough to think the matter at all\nworth enquiry, have no opportunity of receiving better information. The\nstories come magnified to them by a hundred circumstances. Fools are\nindustrious in propagating the imposture; while the wise and learned are\ncontented, in general, to deride its absurdity, without informing\nthemselves of the particular facts, by which it may be distinctly\nrefuted. And thus the impostor above mentioned was enabled to proceed,\nfrom his ignorant Paphlagonians, to the enlisting of votaries, even\namong the Grecian philosophers, and men of the most eminent rank and\ndistinction in Rome: nay, could engage the attention of that sage\nemperor Marcus Aurelius; so far as to make him trust the success of a\nmilitary expedition to his delusive prophecies.\n\nThe advantages are so great, of starting an imposture among an ignorant\npeople, that, even though the delusion should be too gross to impose on\nthe generality of them (_which, though seldom, is sometimes the case_)\nit has a much better chance for succeeding in remote countries, than if\nthe first scene had been laid in a city renowned for arts and\nknowledge. The most ignorant and barbarous of these barbarians carry\nthe report abroad. None of their countrymen have a large correspondence,\nor sufficient credit and authority to contradict and beat down the\ndelusion. Men's inclination to the marvellous has full opportunity to\ndisplay itself. And thus a story, which is universally exploded in the\nplace where it was first started, shall pass for certain at a thousand\nmiles distance. But had Alexander fixed his residence at Athens, the\nphilosophers of that renowned mart of learning had immediately spread,\nthroughout the whole Roman empire, their sense of the matter; which,\nbeing supported by so great authority, and displayed by all the force of\nreason and eloquence, had entirely opened the eyes of mankind. It is\ntrue; Lucian, passing by chance through Paphlagonia, had an opportunity\nof performing this good office. But, though much to be wished, it does\nnot always happen, that every Alexander meets with a Lucian, ready to\nexpose and detect his impostures.\n\n95. I may add as a _fourth_ reason, which diminishes the authority of\nprodigies, that there is no testimony for any, even those which have not\nbeen expressly detected, that is not opposed by an infinite number of\nwitnesses; so that not only the miracle destroys the credit of\ntestimony, but the testimony destroys itself. To make this the better\nunderstood, let us consider, that, in matters of religion, whatever is\ndifferent is contrary; and that it is impossible the religions of\nancient Rome, of Turkey, of Siam, and of China should, all of them, be\nestablished on any solid foundation. Every miracle, therefore, pretended\nto have been wrought in any of these religions (and all of them abound\nin miracles), as its direct scope is to establish the particular system\nto which it is attributed; so has it the same force, though more\nindirectly, to overthrow every other system. In destroying a rival\nsystem, it likewise destroys the credit of those miracles, on which that\nsystem was established; so that all the prodigies of different\nreligions are to be regarded as contrary facts, and the evidences of\nthese prodigies, whether weak or strong, as opposite to each other.\nAccording to this method of reasoning, when we believe any miracle of\nMahomet or his successors, we have for our warrant the testimony of a\nfew barbarous Arabians: And on the other hand, we are to regard the\nauthority of Titus Livius, Plutarch, Tacitus, and, in short, of all the\nauthors and witnesses, Grecian, Chinese, and Roman Catholic, who have\nrelated any miracle in their particular religion; I say, we are to\nregard their testimony in the same light as if they had mentioned that\nMahometan miracle, and had in express terms contradicted it, with the\nsame certainty as they have for the miracle they relate. This argument\nmay appear over subtile and refined; but is not in reality different\nfrom the reasoning of a judge, who supposes, that the credit of two\nwitnesses, maintaining a crime against any one, is destroyed by the\ntestimony of two others, who affirm him to have been two hundred leagues\ndistant, at the same instant when the crime is said to have been\ncommitted.\n\n96. One of the best attested miracles in all profane history, is that\nwhich Tacitus reports of Vespasian, who cured a blind man in Alexandria,\nby means of his spittle, and a lame man by the mere touch of his foot;\nin obedience to a vision of the god Serapis, who had enjoined them to\nhave recourse to the Emperor, for these miraculous cures. The story may\nbe seen in that fine historian[23]; where every circumstance seems to add\nweight to the testimony, and might be displayed at large with all the\nforce of argument and eloquence, if any one were now concerned to\nenforce the evidence of that exploded and idolatrous superstition. The\ngravity, solidity, age, and probity of so great an emperor, who, through\nthe whole course of his life, conversed in a familiar manner with his\nfriends and courtiers, and never affected those extraordinary airs of\ndivinity assumed by Alexander and Demetrius. The historian, a\ncotemporary writer, noted for candour and veracity, and withal, the\ngreatest and most penetrating genius, perhaps, of all antiquity; and so\nfree from any tendency to credulity, that he even lies under the\ncontrary imputation, of atheism and profaneness: The persons, from whose\nauthority he related the miracle, of established character for judgement\nand veracity, as we may well presume; eye-witnesses of the fact, and\nconfirming their testimony, after the Flavian family was despoiled of\nthe empire, and could no longer give any reward, as the price of a lie.\n_Utrumque, qui interfuere, nunc quoque memorant, postquam nullum\nmendacio pretium_. To which if we add the public nature of the facts, as\nrelated, it will appear, that no evidence can well be supposed stronger\nfor so gross and so palpable a falsehood.\n\n    [23] Hist. lib. iv. cap. 81. Suetonius gives nearly the same\n    account _in vita_ Vesp.\n\nThere is also a memorable story related by Cardinal de Retz, which may\nwell deserve our consideration. When that intriguing politician fled\ninto Spain, to avoid the persecution of his enemies, he passed through\nSaragossa, the capital of Arragon, where he was shewn, in the cathedral,\na man, who had served seven years as a door-keeper, and was well known\nto every body in town, that had ever paid his devotions at that church.\nHe had been seen, for so long a time, wanting a leg; but recovered that\nlimb by the rubbing of holy oil upon the stump; and the cardinal assures\nus that he saw him with two legs. This miracle was vouched by all the\ncanons of the church; and the whole company in town were appealed to for\na confirmation of the fact; whom the cardinal found, by their zealous\ndevotion, to be thorough believers of the miracle. Here the relater was\nalso cotemporary to the supposed prodigy, of an incredulous and\nlibertine character, as well as of great genius; the miracle of so\n_singular_ a nature as could scarcely admit of a counterfeit, and the\nwitnesses very numerous, and all of them, in a manner, spectators of the\nfact, to which they gave their testimony. And what adds mightily to the\nforce of the evidence, and may double our surprise on this occasion, is,\nthat the cardinal himself, who relates the story, seems not to give any\ncredit to it, and consequently cannot be suspected of any concurrence in\nthe holy fraud. He considered justly, that it was not requisite, in\norder to reject a fact of this nature, to be able accurately to disprove\nthe testimony, and to trace its falsehood, through all the circumstances\nof knavery and credulity which produced it. He knew, that, as this was\ncommonly altogether impossible at any small distance of time and place;\nso was it extremely difficult, even where one was immediately present,\nby reason of the bigotry, ignorance, cunning, and roguery of a great\npart of mankind. He therefore concluded, like a just reasoner, that such\nan evidence carried falsehood upon the very face of it, and that a\nmiracle, supported by any human testimony, was more properly a subject\nof derision than of argument.\n\nThere surely never was a greater number of miracles ascribed to one\nperson, than those, which were lately said to have been wrought in\nFrance upon the tomb of Abbe Paris, the famous Jansenist, with whose\nsanctity the people were so long deluded. The curing of the sick, giving\nhearing to the deaf, and sight to the blind, were every where talked of\nas the usual effects of that holy sepulchre. But what is more\nextraordinary; many of the miracles were immediately proved upon the\nspot, before judges of unquestioned integrity, attested by witnesses of\ncredit and distinction, in a learned age, and on the most eminent\ntheatre that is now in the world. Nor is this all: a relation of them\nwas published and dispersed every where; nor were the _Jesuits_, though\na learned body, supported by the civil magistrate, and determined\nenemies to those opinions, in whose favour the miracles were said to\nhave been wrought, ever able distinctly to refute or detect them[24].\nWhere shall we find such a number of circumstances, agreeing to the\ncorroboration of one fact? And what have we to oppose to such a cloud of\nwitnesses, but the absolute impossibility or miraculous nature of the\nevents, which they relate? And this surely, in the eyes of all\nreasonable people, will alone be regarded as a sufficient refutation.\n\n    [24] This book was writ by Mons. Montgeron, counsellor or judge\n    of the parliament of Paris, a man of figure and character, who\n    was also a martyr to the cause, and is now said to be somewhere\n    in a dungeon on account of his book.\n\n    There is another book in three volumes (called _Recueil des\n    Miracles de l'Abbe_ Paris) giving an account of many of these\n    miracles, and accompanied with prefatory discourses, which are\n    very well written. There runs, however, through the whole of\n    these a ridiculous comparison between the miracles of our\n    Saviour and those of the Abbe; wherein it is asserted, that the\n    evidence for the latter is equal to that for the former: As if\n    the testimony of men could ever be put in the balance with that\n    of God himself, who conducted the pen of the inspired writers.\n    If these writers, indeed, were to be considered merely as human\n    testimony, the French author is very moderate in his\n    comparison; since he might, with some appearance of reason,\n    pretend, that the Jansenist miracles much surpass the other in\n    evidence and authority. The following circumstances are drawn\n    from authentic papers, inserted in the above-mentioned book.\n\n    Many of the miracles of Abbe Paris were proved immediately by\n    witnesses before the officiality or bishop's court at Paris,\n    under the eye of cardinal Noailles, whose character for\n    integrity and capacity was never contested even by his enemies.\n\n    His successor in the archbishopric was an enemy to the\n    Jansenists, and for that reason promoted to the see by the\n    court. Yet 22 rectors or cures of Paris, with infinite\n    earnestness, press him to examine those miracles, which they\n    assert to be known to the whole world, and undisputably\n    certain: But he wisely forbore.\n\n    The Molinist party had tried to discredit these miracles in one\n    instance, that of Mademoiselle le Franc. But, besides that\n    their proceedings were in many respects the most irregular in\n    the world, particularly in citing only a few of the Jansenist\n    witnesses, whom they tampered with: Besides this, I say, they\n    soon found themselves overwhelmed by a cloud of new witnesses,\n    one hundred and twenty in number, most of them persons of\n    credit and substance in Paris, who gave oath for the miracle.\n    This was accompanied with a solemn and earnest appeal to the\n    parliament. But the parliament were forbidden by authority to\n    meddle in the affair. It was at last observed, that where men\n    are heated by zeal and enthusiasm, there is no degree of human\n    testimony so strong as may not be procured for the greatest\n    absurdity: And those who will be so silly as to examine the\n    affair by that medium, and seek particular flaws in the\n    testimony, are almost sure to be confounded. It must be a\n    miserable imposture, indeed, that does not prevail in\n    that contest.\n\n    All who have been in France about that time have heard of the\n    reputation of Mons. Heraut, the _lieutenant de Police_, whose\n    vigilance, penetration, activity, and extensive intelligence\n    have been much talked of. This magistrate, who by the nature of\n    his office is almost absolute, was vested with full powers, on\n    purpose to suppress or discredit these miracles; and he\n    frequently seized immediately, and examined the witnesses and\n    subjects of them: But never could reach any thing satisfactory\n    against them.\n\n    In the case of Mademoiselle Thibaut he sent the famous De Sylva\n    to examine her; whose evidence is very curious. The physician\n    declares, that it was impossible she could have been so ill as\n    was proved by witnesses; because it was impossible she could,\n    in so short a time, have recovered so perfectly as he found\n    her. He reasoned, like a man of sense, from natural causes; but\n    the opposite party told him, that the whole was a miracle, and\n    that his evidence was the very best proof of it.\n\n    The Molinists were in a sad dilemma. They durst not assert the\n    absolute insufficiency of human evidence, to prove a miracle.\n    They were obliged to say, that these miracles were wrought by\n    witchcraft and the devil. But they were told, that this was the\n    resource of the Jews of old.\n\n    No Jansenist was ever embarrassed to account for the cessation\n    of the miracles, when the church-yard was shut up by the king's\n    edict. It was the touch of the tomb, which produced these\n    extraordinary effects; and when no one could approach the tomb,\n    no effects could be expected. God, indeed, could have thrown\n    down the walls in a moment; but he is master of his own graces\n    and works, and it belongs not to us to account for them. He did\n    not throw down the walls of every city like those of Jericho,\n    on the sounding of the rams horns, nor break up the prison of\n    every apostle, like that of St. Paul.\n\n    No less a man, than the Due de Chatillon, a duke and peer of\n    France, of the highest rank and family, gives evidence of a\n    miraculous cure, performed upon a servant of his, who had lived\n    several years in his house with a visible and palpable\n    infirmity. I shall conclude with observing, that no clergy are\n    more celebrated for strictness of life and manners than the\n    secular clergy of France, particularly the rectors or cures of\n    Paris, who bear testimony to these impostures. The learning,\n    genius, and probity of the gentlemen, and the austerity of the\n    nuns of Port-Royal, have been much celebrated all over Europe.\n    Yet they all give evidence for a miracle, wrought on the niece\n    of the famous Pascal, whose sanctity of life, as well as\n    extraordinary capacity, is well known. The famous Racine gives\n    an account of this miracle in his famous history of Port-Royal,\n    and fortifies it with all the proofs, which a multitude of\n    nuns, priests, physicians, and men of the world, all of them of\n    undoubted credit, could bestow upon it. Several men of letters,\n    particularly the bishop of Tournay, thought this miracle so\n    certain, as to employ it in the refutation of atheists and\n    free-thinkers. The queen-regent of France, who was extremely\n    prejudiced against the Port-Royal, sent her own physician to\n    examine the miracle, who returned an absolute convert. In\n    short, the supernatural cure was so uncontestable, that it\n    saved, for a time, that famous monastery from the ruin with\n    which it was threatened by the Jesuits. Had it been a cheat, it\n    had certainly been detected by such sagacious and powerful\n    antagonists, and must have hastened the ruin of the contrivers.\n    Our divines, who can build up a formidable castle from such\n    despicable materials; what a prodigious fabric could they have\n    reared from these and many other circumstances, which I have\n    not mentioned! How often would the great names of Pascal,\n    Racine, Amaud, Nicole, have resounded in our ears? But if they\n    be wise, they had better adopt the miracle, as being more\n    worth, a thousand times, than all the rest of the collection.\n    Besides, it may serve very much to their purpose. For that\n    miracle was really performed by the touch of an authentic holy\n    prickle of the holy thorn, which composed the holy crown,\n    which, &c.\n\n97. Is the consequence just, because some human testimony has the utmost\nforce and authority in some cases, when it relates the battle of\nPhilippi or Pharsalia for instance; that therefore all kinds of\ntestimony must, in all cases, have equal force and authority? Suppose\nthat the Caesarean and Pompeian factions had, each of them, claimed the\nvictory in these battles, and that the historians of each party had\nuniformly ascribed the advantage to their own side; how could mankind,\nat this distance, have been able to determine between them? The\ncontrariety is equally strong between the miracles related by Herodotus\nor Plutarch, and those delivered by Mariana, Bede, or any monkish\nhistorian.\n\nThe wise lend a very academic faith to every report which favours the\npassion of the reporter; whether it magnifies his country, his family,\nor himself, or in any other way strikes in with his natural inclinations\nand propensities. But what greater temptation than to appear a\nmissionary, a prophet, an ambassador from heaven? Who would not\nencounter many dangers and difficulties, in order to attain so sublime a\ncharacter? Or if, by the help of vanity and a heated imagination, a man\nhas first made a convert of himself, and entered seriously into the\ndelusion; who ever scruples to make use of pious frauds, in support of\nso holy and meritorious a cause?\n\nThe smallest spark may here kindle into the greatest flame; because the\nmaterials are always prepared for it. The _avidum genus auricularum_[25],\nthe gazing populace, receive greedily, without examination, whatever\nsooths superstition, and promotes wonder.\n\n    [25] Lucret.\n\nHow many stories of this nature have, in all ages, been detected and\nexploded in their infancy? How many more have been celebrated for a\ntime, and have afterwards sunk into neglect and oblivion? Where such\nreports, therefore, fly about, the solution of the phenomenon is\nobvious; and we judge in conformity to regular experience and\nobservation, when we account for it by the known and natural principles\nof credulity and delusion. And shall we, rather than have a recourse to\nso natural a solution, allow of a miraculous violation of the most\nestablished laws of nature?\n\nI need not mention the difficulty of detecting a falsehood in any\nprivate or even public history, at the place, where it is said to\nhappen; much more when the scene is removed to ever so small a distance.\nEven a court of judicature, with all the authority, accuracy, and\njudgement, which they can employ, find themselves often at a loss to\ndistinguish between truth and falsehood in the most recent actions. But\nthe matter never comes to any issue, if trusted to the common method of\naltercations and debate and flying rumours; especially when men's\npassions have taken part on either side.\n\nIn the infancy of new religions, the wise and learned commonly esteem\nthe matter too inconsiderable to deserve their attention or regard. And\nwhen afterwards they would willingly detect the cheat, in order to\nundeceive the deluded multitude, the season is now past, and the records\nand witnesses, which might clear up the matter, have perished\nbeyond recovery.\n\nNo means of detection remain, but those which must be drawn from the\nvery testimony itself of the reporters: and these, though always\nsufficient with the judicious and knowing, are commonly too fine to fall\nunder the comprehension of the vulgar.\n\n98. Upon the whole, then, it appears, that no testimony for any kind of\nmiracle has ever amounted to a probability, much less to a proof; and\nthat, even supposing it amounted to a proof, it would be opposed by\nanother proof; derived from the very nature of the fact, which it would\nendeavour to establish. It is experience only, which gives authority to\nhuman testimony; and it is the same experience, which assures us of the\nlaws of nature. When, therefore, these two kinds of experience are\ncontrary, we have nothing to do but substract the one from the other,\nand embrace an opinion, either on one side or the other, with that\nassurance which arises from the remainder. But according to the\nprinciple here explained, this substraction, with regard to all popular\nreligions, amounts to an entire annihilation; and therefore we may\nestablish it as a maxim, that no human testimony can have such force as\nto prove a miracle, and make it a just foundation for any such system\nof religion.\n\n99. I beg the limitations here made may be remarked, when I say, that a\nmiracle can never be proved, so as to be the foundation of a system of\nreligion. For I own, that otherwise, there may possibly be miracles, or\nviolations of the usual course of nature, of such a kind as to admit of\nproof from human testimony; though, perhaps, it will be impossible to\nfind any such in all the records of history. Thus, suppose, all authors,\nin all languages, agree, that, from the first of January 1600, there was\na total darkness over the whole earth for eight days: suppose that the\ntradition of this extraordinary event is still strong and lively among\nthe people: that all travellers, who return from foreign countries,\nbring us accounts of the same tradition, without the least variation or\ncontradiction: it is evident, that our present philosophers, instead of\ndoubting the fact, ought to receive it as certain, and ought to search\nfor the causes whence it might be derived. The decay, corruption, and\ndissolution of nature, is an event rendered probable by so many\nanalogies, that any phenomenon, which seems to have a tendency towards\nthat catastrophe, comes within the reach of human testimony, if that\ntestimony be very extensive and uniform.\n\nBut suppose, that all the historians who treat of England, should agree,\nthat, on the first of January 1600, Queen Elizabeth died; that both\nbefore and after her death she was seen by her physicians and the whole\ncourt, as is usual with persons of her rank; that her successor was\nacknowledged and proclaimed by the parliament; and that, after being\ninterred a month, she again appeared, resumed the throne, and governed\nEngland for three years: I must confess that I should be surprised at\nthe concurrence of so many odd circumstances, but should not have the\nleast inclination to believe so miraculous an event. I should not doubt\nof her pretended death, and of those other public circumstances that\nfollowed it: I should only assert it to have been pretended, and that it\nneither was, nor possibly could be real. You would in vain object to me\nthe difficulty, and almost impossibility of deceiving the world in an\naffair of such consequence; the wisdom and solid judgement of that\nrenowned queen; with the little or no advantage which she could reap\nfrom so poor an artifice: All this might astonish me; but I would still\nreply, that the knavery and folly of men are such common phenomena, that\nI should rather believe the most extraordinary events to arise from\ntheir concurrence, than admit of so signal a violation of the laws\nof nature.\n\nBut should this miracle be ascribed to any new system of religion; men,\nin all ages, have been so much imposed on by ridiculous stories of that\nkind, that this very circumstance would be a full proof of a cheat, and\nsufficient, with all men of sense, not only to make them reject the\nfact, but even reject it without farther examination. Though the Being\nto whom the miracle is ascribed, be, in this case, Almighty, it does\nnot, upon that account, become a whit more probable; since it is\nimpossible for us to know the attributes or actions of such a Being,\notherwise than from the experience which we have of his productions, in\nthe usual course of nature. This still reduces us to past observation,\nand obliges us to compare the instances of the violation of truth in the\ntestimony of men, with those of the violation of the laws of nature by\nmiracles, in order to judge which of them is most likely and probable.\nAs the violations of truth are more common in the testimony concerning\nreligious miracles, than in that concerning any other matter of fact;\nthis must diminish very much the authority of the former testimony, and\nmake us form a general resolution, never to lend any attention to it,\nwith whatever specious pretence it may be covered.\n\nLord Bacon seems to have embraced the same principles of reasoning. 'We\nought,' says he, 'to make a collection or particular history of all\nmonsters and prodigious births or productions, and in a word of every\nthing new, rare, and extraordinary in nature. But this must be done with\nthe most severe scrutiny, lest we depart from truth. Above all, every\nrelation must be considered as suspicious, which depends in any degree\nupon religion, as the prodigies of Livy: And no less so, every thing\nthat is to be found in the writers of natural magic or alchimy, or such\nauthors, who seem, all of them, to have an unconquerable appetite for\nfalsehood and fable[26].'\n\n    [26] Nov. Org. lib. ii. aph. 29.\n\n100. I am the better pleased with the method of reasoning here\ndelivered, as I think it may serve to confound those dangerous friends\nor disguised enemies to the _Christian Religion_, who have undertaken to\ndefend it by the principles of human reason. Our most holy religion is\nfounded on _Faith_, not on reason; and it is a sure method of exposing\nit to put it to such a trial as it is, by no means, fitted to endure. To\nmake this more evident, let us examine those miracles, related in\nscripture; and not to lose ourselves in too wide a field, let us confine\nourselves to such as we find in the _Pentateuch_, which we shall\nexamine, according to the principles of these pretended Christians, not\nas the word or testimony of God himself, but as the production of a mere\nhuman writer and historian. Here then we are first to consider a book,\npresented to us by a barbarous and ignorant people, written in an age\nwhen they were still more barbarous, and in all probability long after\nthe facts which it relates, corroborated by no concurring testimony, and\nresembling those fabulous accounts, which every nation gives of its\norigin. Upon reading this book, we find it full of prodigies and\nmiracles. It gives an account of a state of the world and of human\nnature entirely different from the present: Of our fall from that state:\nOf the age of man, extended to near a thousand years: Of the destruction\nof the world by a deluge: Of the arbitrary choice of one people, as the\nfavourites of heaven; and that people the countrymen of the author: Of\ntheir deliverance from bondage by prodigies the most astonishing\nimaginable: I desire any one to lay his hand upon his heart, and after a\nserious consideration declare, whether he thinks that the falsehood of\nsuch a book, supported by such a testimony, would be more extraordinary\nand miraculous than all the miracles it relates; which is, however,\nnecessary to make it be received, according to the measures of\nprobability above established.\n\n101. What we have said of miracles may be applied, without any\nvariation, to prophecies; and indeed, all prophecies are real miracles,\nand as such only, can be admitted as proofs of any revelation. If it did\nnot exceed the capacity of human nature to foretell future events, it\nwould be absurd to employ any prophecy as an argument for a divine\nmission or authority from heaven. So that, upon the whole, we may\nconclude, that the _Christian Religion_ not only was at first attended\nwith miracles, but even at this day cannot be believed by any reasonable\nperson without one. Mere reason is insufficient to convince us of its\nveracity: And whoever is moved by _Faith_ to assent to it, is conscious\nof a continued miracle in his own person, which subverts all the\nprinciples of his understanding, and gives him a determination to\nbelieve what is most contrary to custom and experience.\n\n\n\nSECTION XI.\n\nOF A PARTICULAR PROVIDENCE AND OF A FUTURE STATE.\n\n\n102. I was lately engaged in conversation with a friend who loves\nsceptical paradoxes; where, though he advanced many principles, of which\nI can by no means approve, yet as they seem to be curious, and to bear\nsome relation to the chain of reasoning carried on throughout this\nenquiry, I shall here copy them from my memory as accurately as I can,\nin order to submit them to the judgement of the reader.\n\nOur conversation began with my admiring the singular good fortune of\nphilosophy, which, as it requires entire liberty above all other\nprivileges, and chiefly flourishes from the free opposition of\nsentiments and argumentation, received its first birth in an age and\ncountry of freedom and toleration, and was never cramped, even in its\nmost extravagant principles, by any creeds, concessions, or penal\nstatutes. For, except the banishment of Protagoras, and the death of\nSocrates, which last event proceeded partly from other motives, there\nare scarcely any instances to be met with, in ancient history, of this\nbigotted jealousy, with which the present age is so much infested.\nEpicurus lived at Athens to an advanced age, in peace and tranquillity:\nEpicureans[27] were even admitted to receive the sacerdotal character,\nand to officiate at the altar, in the most sacred rites of the\nestablished religion: And the public encouragement[28] of pensions and\nsalaries was afforded equally, by the wisest of all the Roman\nemperors[29], to the professors of every sect of philosophy. How\nrequisite such kind of treatment was to philosophy, in her early youth,\nwill easily be conceived, if we reflect, that, even at present, when she\nmay be supposed more hardy and robust, she bears with much difficulty\nthe inclemency of the seasons, and those harsh winds of calumny and\npersecution, which blow upon her.\n\n    [27] Luciani [Greek: symp. ae Lapithai].\n\n    [28] Luciani [Greek: eunouchos].\n\n    [29] Luciani and Dio.\n\nYou admire, says my friend, as the singular good fortune of philosophy,\nwhat seems to result from the natural course of things, and to be\nunavoidable in every age and nation. This pertinacious bigotry, of which\nyou complain, as so fatal to philosophy, is really her offspring, who,\nafter allying with superstition, separates himself entirely from the\ninterest of his parent, and becomes her most inveterate enemy and\npersecutor. Speculative dogmas of religion, the present occasions of\nsuch furious dispute, could not possibly be conceived or admitted in the\nearly ages of the world; when mankind, being wholly illiterate, formed\nan idea of religion more suitable to their weak apprehension, and\ncomposed their sacred tenets of such tales chiefly as were the objects\nof traditional belief, more than of argument or disputation. After the\nfirst alarm, therefore, was over, which arose from the new paradoxes and\nprinciples of the philosophers; these teachers seem ever after, during\nthe ages of antiquity, to have lived in great harmony with the\nestablished superstition, and to have made a fair partition of mankind\nbetween them; the former claiming all the learned and wise, the latter\npossessing all the vulgar and illiterate.\n\n103. It seems then, say I, that you leave politics entirely out of the\nquestion, and never suppose, that a wise magistrate can justly be\njealous of certain tenets of philosophy, such as those of Epicurus,\nwhich, denying a divine existence, and consequently a providence and a\nfuture state, seem to loosen, in a great measure, the ties of morality,\nand may be supposed, for that reason, pernicious to the peace of\ncivil society.\n\nI know, replied he, that in fact these persecutions never, in any age,\nproceeded from calm reason, or from experience of the pernicious\nconsequences of philosophy; but arose entirely from passion and\nprejudice. But what if I should advance farther, and assert, that if\nEpicurus had been accused before the people, by any of the _sycophants_\nor informers of those days, he could easily have defended his cause, and\nproved his principles of philosophy to be as salutary as those of his\nadversaries, who endeavoured, with such zeal, to expose him to the\npublic hatred and jealousy?\n\nI wish, said I, you would try your eloquence upon so extraordinary a\ntopic, and make a speech for Epicurus, which might satisfy, not the mob\nof Athens, if you will allow that ancient and polite city to have\ncontained any mob, but the more philosophical part of his audience, such\nas might be supposed capable of comprehending his arguments.\n\nThe matter would not be difficult, upon such conditions, replied he: And\nif you please, I shall suppose myself Epicurus for a moment, and make\nyou stand for the Athenian people, and shall deliver you such an\nharangue as will fill all the urn with white beans, and leave not a\nblack one to gratify the malice of my adversaries.\n\nVery well: Pray proceed upon these suppositions.\n\n104. I come hither, O ye Athenians, to justify in your assembly what I\nmaintained in my school, and I find myself impeached by furious\nantagonists, instead of reasoning with calm and dispassionate enquirers.\nYour deliberations, which of right should be directed to questions of\npublic good, and the interest of the commonwealth, are diverted to the\ndisquisitions of speculative philosophy; and these magnificent, but\nperhaps fruitless enquiries, take place of your more familiar but more\nuseful occupations. But so far as in me lies, I will prevent this abuse.\nWe shall not here dispute concerning the origin and government of\nworlds. We shall only enquire how far such questions concern the public\ninterest. And if I can persuade you, that they are entirely indifferent\nto the peace of society and security of government, I hope that you will\npresently send us back to our schools, there to examine, at leisure, the\nquestion the most sublime, but at the same time, the most speculative of\nall philosophy.\n\nThe religious philosophers, not satisfied with the tradition of your\nforefathers, and doctrine of your priests (in which I willingly\nacquiesce), indulge a rash curiosity, in trying how far they can\nestablish religion upon the principles of reason; and they thereby\nexcite, instead of satisfying, the doubts, which naturally arise from a\ndiligent and scrutinous enquiry. They paint, in the most magnificent\ncolours, the order, beauty, and wise arrangement of the universe; and\nthen ask, if such a glorious display of intelligence could proceed from\nthe fortuitous concourse of atoms, or if chance could produce what the\ngreatest genius can never sufficiently admire. I shall not examine the\njustness of this argument. I shall allow it to be as solid as my\nantagonists and accusers can desire. It is sufficient, if I can prove,\nfrom this very reasoning, that the question is entirely speculative, and\nthat, when, in my philosophical disquisitions, I deny a providence and a\nfuture state, I undermine not the foundations of society, but advance\nprinciples, which they themselves, upon their own topics, if they argue\nconsistently, must allow to be solid and satisfactory.\n\n105. You then, who are my accusers, have acknowledged, that the chief or\nsole argument for a divine existence (which I never questioned) is\nderived from the order of nature; where there appear such marks of\nintelligence and design, that you think it extravagant to assign for its\ncause, either chance, or the blind and unguided force of matter. You\nallow, that this is an argument drawn from effects to causes. From the\norder of the work, you infer, that there must have been project and\nforethought in the workman. If you cannot make out this point, you\nallow, that your conclusion fails; and you pretend not to establish the\nconclusion in a greater latitude than the phenomena of nature will\njustify. These are your concessions. I desire you to mark the\nconsequences.\n\nWhen we infer any particular cause from an effect, we must proportion\nthe one to the other, and can never be allowed to ascribe to the cause\nany qualities, but what are exactly sufficient to produce the effect. A\nbody of ten ounces raised in any scale may serve as a proof, that the\ncounterbalancing weight exceeds ten ounces; but can never afford a\nreason that it exceeds a hundred. If the cause, assigned for any effect,\nbe not sufficient to produce it, we must either reject that cause, or\nadd to it such qualities as will give it a just proportion to the\neffect. But if we ascribe to it farther qualities, or affirm it capable\nof producing other effects, we can only indulge the licence of\nconjecture, and arbitrarily suppose the existence of qualities and\nenergies, without reason or authority.\n\nThe same rule holds, whether the cause assigned be brute unconscious\nmatter, or a rational intelligent being. If the cause be known only by\nthe effect, we never ought to ascribe to it any qualities, beyond what\nare precisely requisite to produce the effect: Nor can we, by any rules\nof just reasoning, return back from the cause, and infer other effects\nfrom it, beyond those by which alone it is known to us. No one, merely\nfrom the sight of one of Zeuxis's pictures, could know, that he was also\na statuary or architect, and was an artist no less skilful in stone and\nmarble than in colours. The talents and taste, displayed in the\nparticular work before us; these we may safely conclude the workman to\nbe possessed of. The cause must be proportioned to the effect; and if\nwe exactly and precisely proportion it, we shall never find in it any\nqualities, that point farther, or afford an inference concerning any\nother design or performance. Such qualities must be somewhat beyond what\nis merely requisite for producing the effect, which we examine.\n\n106. Allowing, therefore, the gods to be the authors of the existence or\norder of the universe; it follows, that they possess that precise degree\nof power, intelligence, and benevolence, which appears in their\nworkmanship; but nothing farther can ever be proved, except we call in\nthe assistance of exaggeration and flattery to supply the defects of\nargument and reasoning. So far as the traces of any attributes, at\npresent, appear, so far may we conclude these attributes to exist. The\nsupposition of farther attributes is mere hypothesis; much more the\nsupposition, that, in distant regions of space or periods of time, there\nhas been, or will be, a more magnificent display of these attributes,\nand a scheme of administration more suitable to such imaginary virtues.\nWe can never be allowed to mount up from the universe, the effect, to\nJupiter, the cause; and then descend downwards, to infer any new effect\nfrom that cause; as if the present effects alone were not entirely\nworthy of the glorious attributes, which we ascribe to that deity. The\nknowledge of the cause being derived solely from the effect, they must\nbe exactly adjusted to each other; and the one can never refer to\nanything farther, or be the foundation of any new inference and\nconclusion.\n\nYou find certain phenomena in nature. You seek a cause or author. You\nimagine that you have found him. You afterwards become so enamoured of\nthis offspring of your brain, that you imagine it impossible, but he\nmust produce something greater and more perfect than the present scene\nof things, which is so full of ill and disorder. You forget, that this\nsuperlative intelligence and benevolence are entirely imaginary, or, at\nleast, without any foundation in reason; and that you have no ground to\nascribe to him any qualities, but what you see he has actually exerted\nand displayed in his productions. Let your gods, therefore, O\nphilosophers, be suited to the present appearances of nature: and\npresume not to alter these appearances by arbitrary suppositions, in\norder to suit them to the attributes, which you so fondly ascribe to\nyour deities.\n\n107. When priests and poets, supported by your authority, O Athenians,\ntalk of a golden or silver age, which preceded the present state of vice\nand misery, I hear them with attention and with reverence. But when\nphilosophers, who pretend to neglect authority, and to cultivate reason,\nhold the same discourse, I pay them not, I own, the same obsequious\nsubmission and pious deference. I ask; who carried them into the\ncelestial regions, who admitted them into the councils of the gods, who\nopened to them the book of fate, that they thus rashly affirm, that\ntheir deities have executed, or will execute, any purpose beyond what\nhas actually appeared? If they tell me, that they have mounted on the\nsteps or by the gradual ascent of reason, and by drawing inferences from\neffects to causes, I still insist, that they have aided the ascent of\nreason by the wings of imagination; otherwise they could not thus change\ntheir manner of inference, and argue from causes to effects; presuming,\nthat a more perfect production than the present world would be more\nsuitable to such perfect beings as the gods, and forgetting that they\nhave no reason to ascribe to these celestial beings any perfection or\nany attribute, but what can be found in the present world.\n\nHence all the fruitless industry to account for the ill appearances of\nnature, and save the honour of the gods; while we must acknowledge the\nreality of that evil and disorder, with which the world so much abounds.\nThe obstinate and intractable qualities of matter, we are told, or the\nobservance of general laws, or some such reason, is the sole cause,\nwhich controlled the power and benevolence of Jupiter, and obliged him\nto create mankind and every sensible creature so imperfect and so\nunhappy. These attributes then, are, it seems, beforehand, taken for\ngranted, in their greatest latitude. And upon that supposition, I own\nthat such conjectures may, perhaps, be admitted as plausible solutions\nof the ill phenomena. But still I ask; Why take these attributes for\ngranted, or why ascribe to the cause any qualities but what actually\nappear in the effect? Why torture your brain to justify the course of\nnature upon suppositions, which, for aught you know, may be entirely\nimaginary, and of which there are to be found no traces in the course\nof nature?\n\nThe religious hypothesis, therefore, must be considered only as a\nparticular method of accounting for the visible phenomena of the\nuniverse: but no just reasoner will ever presume to infer from it any\nsingle fact, and alter or add to the phenomena, in any single\nparticular. If you think, that the appearances of things prove such\ncauses, it is allowable for you to draw an inference concerning the\nexistence of these causes. In such complicated and sublime subjects,\nevery one should be indulged in the liberty of conjecture and argument.\nBut here you ought to rest. If you come backward, and arguing from your\ninferred causes, conclude, that any other fact has existed, or will\nexist, in the course of nature, which may serve as a fuller display of\nparticular attributes; I must admonish you, that you have departed from\nthe method of reasoning, attached to the present subject, and have\ncertainly added something to the attributes of the cause, beyond what\nappears in the effect; otherwise you could never, with tolerable sense\nor propriety, add anything to the effect, in order to render it more\nworthy of the cause.\n\n108. Where, then, is the odiousness of that doctrine, which I teach in\nmy school, or rather, which I examine in my gardens? Or what do you find\nin this whole question, wherein the security of good morals, or the\npeace and order of society, is in the least concerned?\n\nI deny a providence, you say, and supreme governor of the world, who\nguides the course of events, and punishes the vicious with infamy and\ndisappointment, and rewards the virtuous with honour and success, in all\ntheir undertakings. But surely, I deny not the course itself of events,\nwhich lies open to every one's inquiry and examination. I acknowledge,\nthat, in the present order of things, virtue is attended with more peace\nof mind than vice, and meets with a more favourable reception from the\nworld. I am sensible, that, according to the past experience of mankind,\nfriendship is the chief joy of human life, and moderation the only\nsource of tranquillity and happiness. I never balance between the\nvirtuous and the vicious course of life; but am sensible, that, to a\nwell-disposed mind, every advantage is on the side of the former. And\nwhat can you say more, allowing all your suppositions and reasonings?\nYou tell me, indeed, that this disposition of things proceeds from\nintelligence and design. But whatever it proceeds from, the disposition\nitself, on which depends our happiness or misery, and consequently our\nconduct and deportment in life is still the same. It is still open for\nme, as well as you, to regulate my behaviour, by my experience of past\nevents. And if you affirm, that, while a divine providence is allowed,\nand a supreme distributive justice in the universe, I ought to expect\nsome more particular reward of the good, and punishment of the bad,\nbeyond the ordinary course of events; I here find the same fallacy,\nwhich I have before endeavoured to detect. You persist in imagining,\nthat, if we grant that divine existence, for which you so earnestly\ncontend, you may safely infer consequences from it, and add something\nto the experienced order of nature, by arguing from the attributes which\nyou ascribe to your gods. You seem not to remember, that all your\nreasonings on this subject can only be drawn from effects to causes; and\nthat every argument, deducted from causes to effects, must of necessity\nbe a gross sophism; since it is impossible for you to know anything of\nthe cause, but what you have antecedently, not inferred, but discovered\nto the full, in the effect.\n\n109. But what must a philosopher think of those vain reasoners, who,\ninstead of regarding the present scene of things as the sole object of\ntheir contemplation, so far reverse the whole course of nature, as to\nrender this life merely a passage to something farther; a porch, which\nleads to a greater, and vastly different building; a prologue, which\nserves only to introduce the piece, and give it more grace and\npropriety? Whence, do you think, can such philosophers derive their idea\nof the gods? From their own conceit and imagination surely. For if they\nderived it from the present phenomena, it would never point to anything\nfarther, but must be exactly adjusted to them. That the divinity may\n_possibly_ be endowed with attributes, which we have never seen exerted;\nmay be governed by principles of action, which we cannot discover to be\nsatisfied: all this will freely be allowed. But still this is mere\n_possibility_ and hypothesis. We never can have reason to _infer_ any\nattributes, or any principles of action in him, but so far as we know\nthem to have been exerted and satisfied.\n\n_Are there any marks of a distributive justice in the world?_ If you\nanswer in the affirmative, I conclude, that, since justice here exerts\nitself, it is satisfied. If you reply in the negative, I conclude, that\nyou have then no reason to ascribe justice, in our sense of it, to the\ngods. If you hold a medium between affirmation and negation, by saying,\nthat the justice of the gods, at present, exerts itself in part, but not\nin its full extent; I answer, that you have no reason to give it any\nparticular extent, but only so far as you see it, _at present_,\nexert itself.\n\n110. Thus I bring the dispute, O Athenians, to a short issue with my\nantagonists. The course of nature lies open to my contemplation as well\nas to theirs. The experienced train of events is the great standard, by\nwhich we all regulate our conduct. Nothing else can be appealed to in\nthe field, or in the senate. Nothing else ought ever to be heard of in\nthe school, or in the closet. In vain would our limited understanding\nbreak through those boundaries, which are too narrow for our fond\nimagination. While we argue from the course of nature, and infer a\nparticular intelligent cause, which first bestowed, and still preserves\norder in the universe, we embrace a principle, which is both uncertain\nand useless. It is uncertain; because the subject lies entirely beyond\nthe reach of human experience. It is useless; because our knowledge of\nthis cause being derived entirely from the course of nature, we can\nnever, according to the rules of just reasoning, return back from the\ncause with any new inference, or making additions to the common and\nexperienced course of nature, establish any new principles of conduct\nand behaviour.\n\n111. I observe (said I, finding he had finished his harangue) that you\nneglect not the artifice of the demagogues of old; and as you were\npleased to make me stand for the people, you insinuate yourself into my\nfavour by embracing those principles, to which, you know, I have always\nexpressed a particular attachment. But allowing you to make experience\n(as indeed I think you ought) the only standard of our judgement\nconcerning this, and all other questions of fact; I doubt not but, from\nthe very same experience, to which you appeal, it may be possible to\nrefute this reasoning, which you have put into the mouth of Epicurus.\nIf you saw, for instance, a half-finished building, surrounded with\nheaps of brick and stone and mortar, and all the instruments of masonry;\ncould you not _infer_ from the effect, that it was a work of design and\ncontrivance? And could you not return again, from this inferred cause,\nto infer new additions to the effect, and conclude, that the building\nwould soon be finished, and receive all the further improvements, which\nart could bestow upon it? If you saw upon the sea-shore the print of one\nhuman foot, you would conclude, that a man had passed that way, and that\nhe had also left the traces of the other foot, though effaced by the\nrolling of the sands or inundation of the waters. Why then do you refuse\nto admit the same method of reasoning with regard to the order of\nnature? Consider the world and the present life only as an imperfect\nbuilding, from which you can infer a superior intelligence; and arguing\nfrom that superior intelligence, which can leave nothing imperfect; why\nmay you not infer a more finished scheme or plan, which will receive its\ncompletion in some distant point of space or time? Are not these methods\nof reasoning exactly similar? And under what pretence can you embrace\nthe one, while you reject the other?\n\n112. The infinite difference of the subjects, replied he, is a\nsufficient foundation for this difference in my conclusions. In works of\n_human_ art and contrivance, it is allowable to advance from the effect\nto the cause, and returning back from the cause, to form new inferences\nconcerning the effect, and examine the alterations, which it has\nprobably undergone, or may still undergo. But what is the foundation of\nthis method of reasoning? Plainly this; that man is a being, whom we\nknow by experience, whose motives and designs we are acquainted with,\nand whose projects and inclinations have a certain connexion and\ncoherence, according to the laws which nature has established for the\ngovernment of such a creature. When, therefore, we find, that any work\nhas proceeded from the skill and industry of man; as we are otherwise\nacquainted with the nature of the animal, we can draw a hundred\ninferences concerning what may be expected from him; and these\ninferences will all be founded in experience and observation. But did we\nknow man only from the single work or production which we examine, it\nwere impossible for us to argue in this manner; because our knowledge of\nall the qualities, which we ascribe to him, being in that case derived\nfrom the production, it is impossible they could point to anything\nfarther, or be the foundation of any new inference. The print of a foot\nin the sand can only prove, when considered alone, that there was some\nfigure adapted to it, by which it was produced: but the print of a human\nfoot proves likewise, from our other experience, that there was probably\nanother foot, which also left its impression, though effaced by time or\nother accidents. Here we mount from the effect to the cause; and\ndescending again from the cause, infer alterations in the effect; but\nthis is not a continuation of the same simple chain of reasoning. We\ncomprehend in this case a hundred other experiences and observations,\nconcerning the _usual_ figure and members of that species of animal,\nwithout which this method of argument must be considered as fallacious\nand sophistical.\n\n113. The case is not the same with our reasonings from the works of\nnature. The Deity is known to us only by his productions, and is a\nsingle being in the universe, not comprehended under any species or\ngenus, from whose experienced attributes or qualities, we can, by\nanalogy, infer any attribute or quality in him. As the universe shews\nwisdom and goodness, we infer wisdom and goodness. As it shews a\nparticular degree of these perfections, we infer a particular degree of\nthem, precisely adapted to the effect which we examine. But farther\nattributes or farther degrees of the same attributes, we can never be\nauthorised to infer or suppose, by any rules of just reasoning. Now,\nwithout some such licence of supposition, it is impossible for us to\nargue from the cause, or infer any alteration in the effect, beyond what\nhas immediately fallen under our observation. Greater good produced by\nthis Being must still prove a greater degree of goodness: a more\nimpartial distribution of rewards and punishments must proceed from a\ngreater regard to justice and equity. Every supposed addition to the\nworks of nature makes an addition to the attributes of the Author of\nnature; and consequently, being entirely unsupported by any reason or\nargument, can never be admitted but as mere conjecture and\nhypothesis[30].\n\n    [30] In general, it may, I think, be established as a maxim,\n    that where any cause is known only by its particular effects,\n    it must be impossible to infer any new effects from that cause;\n    since the qualities, which are requisite to produce these new\n    effects along with the former, must either be different, or\n    superior, or of more extensive operation, than those which\n    simply produced the effect, whence alone the cause is supposed\n    to be known to us. We can never, therefore, have any reason to\n    suppose the existence of these qualities. To say, that the new\n    effects proceed only from a continuation of the same energy,\n    which is already known from the first effects, will not remove\n    the difficulty. For even granting this to be the case (which\n    can seldom be supposed), the very continuation and exertion of\n    a like energy (for it is impossible it can be absolutely the\n    same), I say, this exertion of a like energy, in a different\n    period of space and time, is a very arbitrary supposition, and\n    what there cannot possibly be any traces of in the effects,\n    from which all our knowledge of the cause is originally\n    derived. Let the _inferred_ cause be exactly proportioned (as\n    it should be) to the known effect; and it is impossible that\n    it can possess any qualities, from which new or different\n    effects can be _inferred_.\n\nThe great source of our mistake in this subject, and of the unbounded\nlicence of conjecture, which we indulge, is, that we tacitly consider\nourselves, as in the place of the Supreme Being, and conclude, that he\nwill, on every occasion, observe the same conduct, which we ourselves,\nin his situation, would have embraced as reasonable and eligible. But,\nbesides that the ordinary course of nature may convince us, that almost\neverything is regulated by principles and maxims very different from\nours; besides this, I say, it must evidently appear contrary to all\nrules of analogy to reason, from the intentions and projects of men, to\nthose of a Being so different, and so much superior. In human nature,\nthere is a certain experienced coherence of designs and inclinations; so\nthat when, from any fact, we have discovered one intention of any man,\nit may often be reasonable, from experience, to infer another, and draw\na long chain of conclusions concerning his past or future conduct. But\nthis method of reasoning can never have place with regard to a Being, so\nremote and incomprehensible, who bears much less analogy to any other\nbeing in the universe than the sun to a waxen taper, and who discovers\nhimself only by some faint traces or outlines, beyond which we have no\nauthority to ascribe to him any attribute or perfection. What we imagine\nto be a superior perfection, may really be a defect. Or were it ever so\nmuch a perfection, the ascribing of it to the Supreme Being, where it\nappears not to have been really exerted, to the full, in his works,\nsavours more of flattery and panegyric, than of just reasoning and sound\nphilosophy. All the philosophy, therefore, in the world, and all the\nreligion, which is nothing but a species of philosophy, will never be\nable to carry us beyond the usual course of experience, or give us\nmeasures of conduct and behaviour different from those which are\nfurnished by reflections on common life. No new fact can ever be\ninferred from the religious hypothesis; no event foreseen or foretold;\nno reward or punishment expected or dreaded, beyond what is already\nknown by practice and observation. So that my apology for Epicurus will\nstill appear solid and satisfactory; nor have the political interests\nof society any connexion with the philosophical disputes concerning\nmetaphysics and religion.\n\n114. There is still one circumstance, replied I, which you seem to have\noverlooked. Though I should allow your premises, I must deny your\nconclusion. You conclude, that religious doctrines and reasonings _can_\nhave no influence on life, because they _ought_ to have no influence;\nnever considering, that men reason not in the same manner you do, but\ndraw many consequences from the belief of a divine Existence, and\nsuppose that the Deity will inflict punishments on vice, and bestow\nrewards on virtue, beyond what appear in the ordinary course of nature.\nWhether this reasoning of theirs be just or not, is no matter. Its\ninfluence on their life and conduct must still be the same. And, those,\nwho attempt to disabuse them of such prejudices, may, for aught I know,\nbe good reasoners, but I cannot allow them to be good citizens and\npoliticians; since they free men from one restraint upon their passions,\nand make the infringement of the laws of society, in one respect, more\neasy and secure.\n\nAfter all, I may, perhaps, agree to your general conclusion in favour of\nliberty, though upon different premises from those, on which you\nendeavour to found it. I think, that the state ought to tolerate every\nprinciple of philosophy; nor is there an instance, that any government\nhas suffered in its political interests by such indulgence. There is no\nenthusiasm among philosophers; their doctrines are not very alluring to\nthe people; and no restraint can be put upon their reasonings, but what\nmust be of dangerous consequence to the sciences, and even to the state,\nby paving the way for persecution and oppression in points, where the\ngenerality of mankind are more deeply interested and concerned.\n\n115. But there occurs to me (continued I) with regard to your main\ntopic, a difficulty, which I shall just propose to you without insisting\non it; lest it lead into reasonings of too nice and delicate a nature.\nIn a word, I much doubt whether it be possible for a cause to be known\nonly by its effect (as you have all along supposed) or to be of so\nsingular and particular a nature as to have no parallel and no\nsimilarity with any other cause or object, that has ever fallen under\nour observation. It is only when two _species_ of objects are found to\nbe constantly conjoined, that we can infer the one from the other; and\nwere an effect presented, which was entirely singular, and could not be\ncomprehended under any known _species_, I do not see, that we could form\nany conjecture or inference at all concerning its cause. If experience\nand observation and analogy be, indeed, the only guides which we can\nreasonably follow in inferences of this nature; both the effect and\ncause must bear a similarity and resemblance to other effects and\ncauses, which we know, and which we have found, in many instances, to be\nconjoined with each other. I leave it to your own reflection to pursue\nthe consequences of this principle. I shall just observe, that, as the\nantagonists of Epicurus always suppose the universe, an effect quite\nsingular and unparalleled, to be the proof of a Deity, a cause no less\nsingular and unparalleled; your reasonings, upon that supposition, seem,\nat least, to merit our attention. There is, I own, some difficulty, how\nwe can ever return from the cause to the effect, and, reasoning from our\nideas of the former, infer any alteration on the latter, or any\naddition to it.\n\n\n\nSECTION XII.\n\nOF THE ACADEMICAL OR SCEPTICAL PHILOSOPHY.\n\n\nPART I.\n\n\n116. There is not a greater number of philosophical reasonings,\ndisplayed upon any subject, than those, which prove the existence of a\nDeity, and refute the fallacies of _Atheists_; and yet the most\nreligious philosophers still dispute whether any man can be so blinded\nas to be a speculative atheist. How shall we reconcile these\ncontradictions? The knights-errant, who wandered about to clear the\nworld of dragons and giants, never entertained the least doubt with\nregard to the existence of these monsters.\n\nThe _Sceptic_ is another enemy of religion, who naturally provokes the\nindignation of all divines and graver philosophers; though it is\ncertain, that no man ever met with any such absurd creature, or\nconversed with a man, who had no opinion or principle concerning any\nsubject, either of action or speculation. This begets a very natural\nquestion; What is meant by a sceptic? And how far it is possible to push\nthese philosophical principles of doubt and uncertainty?\n\nThere is a species of scepticism, _antecedent_ to all study and\nphilosophy, which is much inculcated by Des Cartes and others, as a\nsovereign preservative against error and precipitate judgement. It\nrecommends an universal doubt, not only of all our former opinions and\nprinciples, but also of our very faculties; of whose veracity, say they,\nwe must assure ourselves, by a chain of reasoning, deduced from some\noriginal principle, which cannot possibly be fallacious or deceitful.\nBut neither is there any such original principle, which has a\nprerogative above others, that are self-evident and convincing: or if\nthere were, could we advance a step beyond it, but by the use of those\nvery faculties, of which we are supposed to be already diffident. The\nCartesian doubt, therefore, were it ever possible to be attained by any\nhuman creature (as it plainly is not) would be entirely incurable; and\nno reasoning could ever bring us to a state of assurance and conviction\nupon any subject.\n\nIt must, however, be confessed, that this species of scepticism, when\nmore moderate, may be understood in a very reasonable sense, and is a\nnecessary preparative to the study of philosophy, by preserving a proper\nimpartiality in our judgements, and weaning our mind from all those\nprejudices, which we may have imbibed from education or rash opinion. To\nbegin with clear and self-evident principles, to advance by timorous and\nsure steps, to review frequently our conclusions, and examine accurately\nall their consequences; though by these means we shall make both a slow\nand a short progress in our systems; are the only methods, by which we\ncan ever hope to reach truth, and attain a proper stability and\ncertainty in our determinations.\n\n117. There is another species of scepticism, _consequent_ to science and\nenquiry, when men are supposed to have discovered, either the absolute\nfallaciousness of their mental faculties, or their unfitness to reach\nany fixed determination in all those curious subjects of speculation,\nabout which they are commonly employed. Even our very senses are brought\ninto dispute, by a certain species of philosophers; and the maxims of\ncommon life are subjected to the same doubt as the most profound\nprinciples or conclusions of metaphysics and theology. As these\nparadoxical tenets (if they may be called tenets) are to be met with in\nsome philosophers, and the refutation of them in several, they naturally\nexcite our curiosity, and make us enquire into the arguments, on which\nthey may be founded.\n\nI need not insist upon the more trite topics, employed by the sceptics\nin all ages, against the evidence of _sense_; such as those which are\nderived from the imperfection and fallaciousness of our organs, on\nnumberless occasions; the crooked appearance of an oar in water; the\nvarious aspects of objects, according to their different distances; the\ndouble images which arise from the pressing one eye; with many other\nappearances of a like nature. These sceptical topics, indeed, are only\nsufficient to prove, that the senses alone are not implicitly to be\ndepended on; but that we must correct their evidence by reason, and by\nconsiderations, derived from the nature of the medium, the distance of\nthe object, and the disposition of the organ, in order to render them,\nwithin their sphere, the proper _criteria_ of truth and falsehood. There\nare other more profound arguments against the senses, which admit not of\nso easy a solution.\n\n118. It seems evident, that men are carried, by a natural instinct or\nprepossession, to repose faith in their senses; and that, without any\nreasoning, or even almost before the use of reason, we always suppose an\nexternal universe, which depends not on our perception, but would exist,\nthough we and every sensible creature were absent or annihilated. Even\nthe animal creation are governed by a like opinion, and preserve this\nbelief of external objects, in all their thoughts, designs, and actions.\n\nIt seems also evident, that, when men follow this blind and powerful\ninstinct of nature, they always suppose the very images, presented by\nthe senses, to be the external objects, and never entertain any\nsuspicion, that the one are nothing but representations of the other.\nThis very table, which we see white, and which we feel hard, is believed\nto exist, independent of our perception, and to be something external\nto our mind, which perceives it. Our presence bestows not being on it:\nour absence does not annihilate it. It preserves its existence uniform\nand entire, independent of the situation of intelligent beings, who\nperceive or contemplate it.\n\nBut this universal and primary opinion of all men is soon destroyed by\nthe slightest philosophy, which teaches us, that nothing can ever be\npresent to the mind but an image or perception, and that the senses are\nonly the inlets, through which these images are conveyed, without being\nable to produce any immediate intercourse between the mind and the\nobject. The table, which we see, seems to diminish, as we remove farther\nfrom it: but the real table, which exists independent of us, suffers no\nalteration: it was, therefore, nothing but its image, which was present\nto the mind. These are the obvious dictates of reason; and no man, who\nreflects, ever doubted, that the existences, which we consider, when we\nsay, _this house_ and _that tree_, are nothing but perceptions in the\nmind, and fleeting copies or representations of other existences, which\nremain uniform and independent.\n\n119. So far, then, are we necessitated by reasoning to contradict or\ndepart from the primary instincts of nature, and to embrace a new system\nwith regard to the evidence of our senses. But here philosophy finds\nherself extremely embarrassed, when she would justify this new system,\nand obviate the cavils and objections of the sceptics. She can no longer\nplead the infallible and irresistible instinct of nature: for that led\nus to a quite different system, which is acknowledged fallible and even\nerroneous. And to justify this pretended philosophical system, by a\nchain of clear and convincing argument, or even any appearance of\nargument, exceeds the power of all human capacity.\n\nBy what argument can it be proved, that the perceptions of the mind\nmust be caused by external objects, entirely different from them, though\nresembling them (if that be possible) and could not arise either from\nthe energy of the mind itself, or from the suggestion of some invisible\nand unknown spirit, or from some other cause still more unknown to us?\nIt is acknowledged, that, in fact, many of these perceptions arise not\nfrom anything external, as in dreams, madness, and other diseases. And\nnothing can be more inexplicable than the manner, in which body should\nso operate upon mind as ever to convey an image of itself to a\nsubstance, supposed of so different, and even contrary a nature.\n\nIt is a question of fact, whether the perceptions of the senses be\nproduced by external objects, resembling them: how shall this question\nbe determined? By experience surely; as all other questions of a like\nnature. But here experience is, and must be entirely silent. The mind\nhas never anything present to it but the perceptions, and cannot\npossibly reach any experience of their connexion with objects. The\nsupposition of such a connexion is, therefore, without any foundation in\nreasoning.\n\n120. To have recourse to the veracity of the supreme Being, in order to\nprove the veracity of our senses, is surely making a very unexpected\ncircuit. If his veracity were at all concerned in this matter, our\nsenses would be entirely infallible; because it is not possible that he\ncan ever deceive. Not to mention, that, if the external world be once\ncalled in question, we shall be at a loss to find arguments, by which we\nmay prove the existence of that Being or any of his attributes.\n\n121. This is a topic, therefore, in which the profounder and more\nphilosophical sceptics will always triumph, when they endeavour to\nintroduce an universal doubt into all subjects of human knowledge and\nenquiry. Do you follow the instincts and propensities of nature, may\nthey say, in assenting to the veracity of sense? But these lead you to\nbelieve that the very perception or sensible image is the external\nobject. Do you disclaim this principle, in order to embrace a more\nrational opinion, that the perceptions are only representations of\nsomething external? You here depart from your natural propensities and\nmore obvious sentiments; and yet are not able to satisfy your reason,\nwhich can never find any convincing argument from experience to prove,\nthat the perceptions are connected with any external objects.\n\n122. There is another sceptical topic of a like nature, derived from the\nmost profound philosophy; which might merit our attention, were it\nrequisite to dive so deep, in order to discover arguments and\nreasonings, which can so little serve to any serious purpose. It is\nuniversally allowed by modern enquirers, that all the sensible qualities\nof objects, such as hard, soft, hot, cold, white, black, &c. are merely\nsecondary, and exist not in the objects themselves, but are perceptions\nof the mind, without any external archetype or model, which they\nrepresent. If this be allowed, with regard to secondary qualities, it\nmust also follow, with regard to the supposed primary qualities of\nextension and solidity; nor can the latter be any more entitled to that\ndenomination than the former. The idea of extension is entirely acquired\nfrom the senses of sight and feeling; and if all the qualities,\nperceived by the senses, be in the mind, not in the object, the same\nconclusion must reach the idea of extension, which is wholly dependent\non the sensible ideas or the ideas of secondary qualities. Nothing can\nsave us from this conclusion, but the asserting, that the ideas of those\nprimary qualities are attained by _Abstraction_, an opinion, which, if\nwe examine it accurately, we shall find to be unintelligible, and even\nabsurd. An extension, that is neither tangible nor visible, cannot\npossibly be conceived: and a tangible or visible extension, which is\nneither hard nor soft, black nor white, is equally beyond the reach of\nhuman conception. Let any man try to conceive a triangle in general,\nwhich is neither _Isosceles_ nor _Scalenum_, nor has any particular\nlength or proportion of sides; and he will soon perceive the absurdity\nof all the scholastic notions with regard to abstraction and\ngeneral ideas.[31]\n\n    [31] This argument is drawn from Dr. Berkeley; and indeed most\n    of the writings of that very ingenious author form the best\n    lessons of scepticism, which are to be found either among\n    the ancient or modern philosopher, Bayle not excepted. He\n    professes, however, in his title-page (and undoubtedly with\n    great truth) to have composed his book against the sceptics as\n    well as against the atheists and free-thinkers. But that all\n    his arguments, though otherwise intended, are, in reality,\n    merely sceptical, appears from this, _that they admit of no\n    answer and produce no conviction_. Their only effect is to\n    cause that momentary amazement and irresolution and confusion,\n    which is the result of scepticism.\n\n123. Thus the first philosophical objection to the evidence of sense or\nto the opinion of external existence consists in this, that such an\nopinion, if rested on natural instinct, is contrary to reason, and if\nreferred to reason, is contrary to natural instinct, and at the same\ntime carries no rational evidence with it, to convince an impartial\nenquirer. The second objection goes farther, and represents this opinion\nas contrary to reason: at least, if it be a principle of reason, that\nall sensible qualities are in the mind, not in the object. Bereave\nmatter of all its intelligible qualities, both primary and secondary,\nyou in a manner annihilate it, and leave only a certain unknown,\ninexplicable _something_, as the cause of our perceptions; a notion so\nimperfect, that no sceptic will think it worth while to contend\nagainst it.\n\n\nPART II.\n\n\n124. It may seem a very extravagant attempt of the sceptics to destroy\n_reason_ by argument and ratiocination; yet is this the grand scope of\nall their enquiries and disputes. They endeavour to find objections,\nboth to our abstract reasonings, and to those which regard matter of\nfact and existence.\n\nThe chief objection against all _abstract_ reasonings is derived from\nthe ideas of space and time; ideas, which, in common life and to a\ncareless view, are very clear and intelligible, but when they pass\nthrough the scrutiny of the profound sciences (and they are the chief\nobject of these sciences) afford principles, which seem full of\nabsurdity and contradiction. No priestly _dogmas_, invented on purpose\nto tame and subdue the rebellious reason of mankind, ever shocked common\nsense more than the doctrine of the infinitive divisibility of\nextension, with its consequences; as they are pompously displayed by all\ngeometricians and metaphysicians, with a kind of triumph and exultation.\nA real quantity, infinitely less than any finite quantity, containing\nquantities infinitely less than itself, and so on _in infinitum_; this\nis an edifice so bold and prodigious, that it is too weighty for any\npretended demonstration to support, because it shocks the clearest and\nmost natural principles of human reason.[32] But what renders the matter\nmore extraordinary, is, that these seemingly absurd opinions are\nsupported by a chain of reasoning, the clearest and most natural; nor is\nit possible for us to allow the premises without admitting the\nconsequences. Nothing can be more convincing and satisfactory than all\nthe conclusions concerning the properties of circles and triangles; and\nyet, when these are once received, how can we deny, that the angle of\ncontact between a circle and its tangent is infinitely less than any\nrectilineal angle, that as you may increase the diameter of the circle\n_in infinitum_, this angle of contact becomes still less, even _in\ninfinitum_, and that the angle of contact between other curves and their\ntangents may be infinitely less than those between any circle and its\ntangent, and so on, _in infinitum_? The demonstration of these\nprinciples seems as unexceptionable as that which proves the three\nangles of a triangle to be equal to two right ones, though the latter\nopinion be natural and easy, and the former big with contradiction and\nabsurdity. Reason here seems to be thrown into a kind of amazement and\nsuspence, which, without the suggestions of any sceptic, gives her a\ndiffidence of herself, and of the ground on which she treads. She sees a\nfull light, which illuminates certain places; but that light borders\nupon the most profound darkness. And between these she is so dazzled and\nconfounded, that she scarcely can pronounce with certainty and assurance\nconcerning any one object.\n\n    [32] Whatever disputes there may be about mathematical points,\n    we must allow that there are physical points; that is, parts\n    of extension, which cannot be divided or lessened, either by\n    the eye or imagination. These images, then, which are present\n    to the fancy or senses, are absolutely indivisible, and\n    consequently must be allowed by mathematicians to be infinitely\n    less than any real part of extension; and yet nothing appears\n    more certain to reason, than that an infinite number of them\n    composes an infinite extension. How much more an infinite\n    number of those infinitely small parts of extension, which are\n    still supposed infinitely divisible.\n\n125. The absurdity of these bold determinations of the abstract sciences\nseems to become, if possible, still more palpable with regard to time\nthan extension. An infinite number of real parts of time, passing in\nsuccession, and exhausted one after another, appears so evident a\ncontradiction, that no man, one should think, whose judgement is not\ncorrupted, instead of being improved, by the sciences, would ever be\nable to admit of it.\n\nYet still reason must remain restless, and unquiet, even with regard to\nthat scepticism, to which she is driven by these seeming absurdities and\ncontradictions. How any clear, distinct idea can contain circumstances,\ncontradictory to itself, or to any other clear, distinct idea, is\nabsolutely incomprehensible; and is, perhaps, as absurd as any\nproposition, which can be formed. So that nothing can be more\nsceptical, or more full of doubt and hesitation, than this scepticism\nitself, which arises from some of the paradoxical conclusions of\ngeometry or the science of quantity.[33]\n\n    [33] It seems to me not impossible to avoid these absurdities\n    and contradictions, if it be admitted, that there is no such\n    thing as abstract or general ideas, properly speaking; but that\n    all general ideas are, in reality, particular ones, attached to\n    a general term, which recalls, upon occasion, other particular\n    ones, that resemble, in certain circumstances, the idea,\n    present to the mind. Thus when the term Horse is pronounced, we\n    immediately figure to ourselves the idea of a black or a white\n    animal, of a particular size or figure: But as that term is\n    also usually applied to animals of other colours, figures and\n    sizes, these ideas, though not actually present to the imagination,\n    are easily recalled; and our reasoning and conclusion proceed\n    in the same way, as if they were actually present. If this be\n    admitted (as seems reasonable) it follows that all the ideas of\n    quantity, upon which mathematicians reason, are nothing but\n    particular, and such as are suggested by the senses and\n    imagination, and consequently, cannot be infinitely divisible.\n    It is sufficient to have dropped this hint at present, without\n    prosecuting it any farther. It certainly concerns all lovers\n    of science not to expose themselves to the ridicule and\n    contempt of the ignorant by their conclusions; and this seems\n    the readiest solution of these difficulties.\n\n126. The sceptical objections to _moral_ evidence, or to the reasonings\nconcerning matter of fact, are either _popular_ or _philosophical_. The\npopular objections are derived from the natural weakness of human\nunderstanding; the contradictory opinions, which have been entertained\nin different ages and nations; the variations of our judgement in\nsickness and health, youth and old age, prosperity and adversity; the\nperpetual contradiction of each particular man's opinions and\nsentiments; with many other topics of that kind. It is needless to\ninsist farther on this head. These objections are but weak. For as, in\ncommon life, we reason every moment concerning fact and existence, and\ncannot possibly subsist, without continually employing this species of\nargument, any popular objections, derived from thence, must be\ninsufficient to destroy that evidence. The great subverter of\n_Pyrrhonism_ or the excessive principles of scepticism is action, and\nemployment, and the occupations of common life. These principles may\nflourish and triumph in the schools; where it is, indeed, difficult, if\nnot impossible, to refute them. But as soon as they leave the shade, and\nby the presence of the real objects, which actuate our passions and\nsentiments, are put in opposition to the more powerful principles of our\nnature, they vanish like smoke, and leave the most determined sceptic in\nthe same condition as other mortals.\n\n127. The sceptic, therefore, had better keep within his proper sphere,\nand display those _philosophical_ objections, which arise from more\nprofound researches. Here he seems to have ample matter of triumph;\nwhile he justly insists, that all our evidence for any matter of fact,\nwhich lies beyond the testimony of sense or memory, is derived entirely\nfrom the relation of cause and effect; that we have no other idea of\nthis relation than that of two objects, which have been frequently\n_conjoined_ together; that we have no argument to convince us, that\nobjects, which have, in our experience, been frequently conjoined, will\nlikewise, in other instances, be conjoined in the same manner; and that\nnothing leads us to this inference but custom or a certain instinct of\nour nature; which it is indeed difficult to resist, but which, like\nother instincts, may be fallacious and deceitful. While the sceptic\ninsists upon these topics, he shows his force, or rather, indeed, his\nown and our weakness; and seems, for the time at least, to destroy all\nassurance and conviction. These arguments might be displayed at greater\nlength, if any durable good or benefit to society could ever be expected\nto result from them.\n\n128. For here is the chief and most confounding objection to _excessive_\nscepticism, that no durable good can ever result from it; while it\nremains in its full force and vigour. We need only ask such a sceptic,\n_What his meaning is? And what he proposes by all these curious\nresearches?_ He is immediately at a loss, and knows not what to answer.\nA Copernican or Ptolemaic, who supports each his different system of\nastronomy, may hope to produce a conviction, which will remain constant\nand durable, with his audience. A Stoic or Epicurean displays\nprinciples, which may not be durable, but which have an effect on\nconduct and behaviour. But a Pyrrhonian cannot expect, that his\nphilosophy will have any constant influence on the mind: or if it had,\nthat its influence would be beneficial to society. On the contrary, he\nmust acknowledge, if he will acknowledge anything, that all human life\nmust perish, were his principles universally and steadily to prevail.\nAll discourse, all action would immediately cease; and men remain in a\ntotal lethargy, till the necessities of nature, unsatisfied, put an end\nto their miserable existence. It is true; so fatal an event is very\nlittle to be dreaded. Nature is always too strong for principle. And\nthough a Pyrrhonian may throw himself or others into a momentary\namazement and confusion by his profound reasonings; the first and most\ntrivial event in life will put to flight all his doubts and scruples, and\nleave him the same, in every point of action and speculation, with the\nphilosophers of every other sect, or with those who never concerned\nthemselves in any philosophical researches. When he awakes from his\ndream, he will be the first to join in the laugh against himself, and to\nconfess, that all his objections are mere amusement, and can have no\nother tendency than to show the whimsical condition of mankind, who must\nact and reason and believe; though they are not able, by their most\ndiligent enquiry, to satisfy themselves concerning the foundation of\nthese operations, or to remove the objections, which may be raised\nagainst them.\n\n\nPART III.\n\n\n129. There is, indeed, a more _mitigated_ scepticism or _academical_\nphilosophy, which may be both durable and useful, and which may, in\npart, be the result of this Pyrrhonism, or _excessive_ scepticism, when\nits undistinguished doubts are, in some measure, corrected by common\nsense and reflection. The greater part of mankind are naturally apt to\nbe affirmative and dogmatical in their opinions; and while they see\nobjects only on one side, and have no idea of any counterpoising\nargument, they throw themselves precipitately into the principles, to\nwhich they are inclined; nor have they any indulgence for those who\nentertain opposite sentiments. To hesitate or balance perplexes their\nunderstanding, checks their passion, and suspends their action. They\nare, therefore, impatient till they escape from a state, which to them\nis so uneasy: and they think, that they could never remove themselves\nfar enough from it, by the violence of their affirmations and obstinacy\nof their belief. But could such dogmatical reasoners become sensible of\nthe strange infirmities of human understanding, even in its most perfect\nstate, and when most accurate and cautious in its determinations; such a\nreflection would naturally inspire them with more modesty and reserve,\nand diminish their fond opinion of themselves, and their prejudice\nagainst antagonists. The illiterate may reflect on the disposition of\nthe learned, who, amidst all the advantages of study and reflection, are\ncommonly still diffident in their determinations: and if any of the\nlearned be inclined, from their natural temper, to haughtiness and\nobstinacy, a small tincture of Pyrrhonism might abate their pride, by\nshowing them, that the few advantages, which they may have attained over\ntheir fellows, are but inconsiderable, if compared with the universal\nperplexity and confusion, which is inherent in human nature. In\ngeneral, there is a degree of doubt, and caution, and modesty, which,\nin all kinds of scrutiny and decision, ought for ever to accompany a\njust reasoner.\n\n130. Another species of _mitigated_ scepticism which may be of advantage\nto mankind, and which may be the natural result of the Pyrrhonian doubts\nand scruples, is the limitation of our enquiries to such subjects as are\nbest adapted to the narrow capacity of human understanding. The\n_imagination_ of man is naturally sublime, delighted with whatever is\nremote and extraordinary, and running, without control, into the most\ndistant parts of space and time in order to avoid the objects, which\ncustom has rendered too familiar to it. A correct _Judgement_ observes a\ncontrary method, and avoiding all distant and high enquiries, confines\nitself to common life, and to such subjects as fall under daily practice\nand experience; leaving the more sublime topics to the embellishment of\npoets and orators, or to the arts of priests and politicians. To bring\nus to so salutary a determination, nothing can be more serviceable, than\nto be once thoroughly convinced of the force of the Pyrrhonian doubt,\nand of the impossibility, that anything, but the strong power of natural\ninstinct, could free us from it. Those who have a propensity to\nphilosophy, will still continue their researches; because they reflect,\nthat, besides the immediate pleasure, attending such an occupation,\nphilosophical decisions are nothing but the reflections of common life,\nmethodized and corrected. But they will never be tempted to go beyond\ncommon life, so long as they consider the imperfection of those\nfaculties which they employ, their narrow reach, and their inaccurate\noperations. While we cannot give a satisfactory reason, why we believe,\nafter a thousand experiments, that a stone will fall, or fire burn; can\nwe ever satisfy ourselves concerning any determination, which we may\nform, with regard to the origin of worlds, and the situation of nature,\nfrom, and to eternity?\n\nThis narrow limitation, indeed, of our enquiries, is, in every respect,\nso reasonable, that it suffices to make the slightest examination into\nthe natural powers of the human mind and to compare them with their\nobjects, in order to recommend it to us. We shall then find what are the\nproper subjects of science and enquiry.\n\n131. It seems to me, that the only objects of the abstract science or of\ndemonstration are quantity and number, and that all attempts to extend\nthis more perfect species of knowledge beyond these bounds are mere\nsophistry and illusion. As the component parts of quantity and number\nare entirely similar, their relations become intricate and involved; and\nnothing can be more curious, as well as useful, than to trace, by a\nvariety of mediums, their equality or inequality, through their\ndifferent appearances. But as all other ideas are clearly distinct and\ndifferent from each other, we can never advance farther, by our utmost\nscrutiny, than to observe this diversity, and, by an obvious reflection,\npronounce one thing not to be another. Or if there be any difficulty in\nthese decisions, it proceeds entirely from the undeterminate meaning of\nwords, which is corrected by juster definitions. That _the square of the\nhypothenuse is equal to the squares of the other two sides_, cannot be\nknown, let the terms be ever so exactly defined, without a train of\nreasoning and enquiry. But to convince us of this proposition, _that\nwhere there is no property, there can be no injustice_, it is only\nnecessary to define the terms, and explain injustice to be a violation\nof property. This proposition is, indeed, nothing but a more imperfect\ndefinition. It is the same case with all those pretended syllogistical\nreasonings, which may be found in every other branch of learning, except\nthe sciences of quantity and number; and these may safely, I think, be\npronounced the only proper objects of knowledge and demonstration.\n\n132. All other enquiries of men regard only matter of fact and\nexistence; and these are evidently incapable of demonstration. Whatever\n_is_ may _not be_. No negation of a fact can involve a contradiction.\nThe non-existence of any being, without exception, is as clear and\ndistinct an idea as its existence. The proposition, which affirms it not\nto be, however false, is no less conceivable and intelligible, than that\nwhich affirms it to be. The case is different with the sciences,\nproperly so called. Every proposition, which is not true, is there\nconfused and unintelligible. That the cube root of 64 is equal to the\nhalf of 10, is a false proposition, and can never be distinctly\nconceived. But that Caesar, or the angel Gabriel, or any being never\nexisted, may be a false proposition, but still is perfectly conceivable,\nand implies no contradiction.\n\nThe existence, therefore, of any being can only be proved by arguments\nfrom its cause or its effect; and these arguments are founded entirely\non experience. If we reason _a priori_, anything may appear able to\nproduce anything. The falling of a pebble may, for aught we know,\nextinguish the sun; or the wish of a man control the planets in their\norbits. It is only experience, which teaches us the nature and bounds of\ncause and effect, and enables us to infer the existence of one object\nfrom that of another[34]. Such is the foundation of moral reasoning,\nwhich forms the greater part of human knowledge, and is the source of\nall human action and behaviour.\n\n    [34] That impious maxim of the ancient philosophy, _Ex nihilo,\n    nihil fit_, by which the creation of matter was excluded,\n    ceases to be a maxim, according to this philosophy. Not only the\n    will of the supreme Being may create matter; but, for aught we\n    know _a priori_, the will of any other being might create it,\n    or any other cause, that the most whimsical imagination\n    can assign.\n\nMoral reasonings are either concerning particular or general facts. All\ndeliberations in life regard the former; as also all disquisitions in\nhistory, chronology, geography, and astronomy.\n\nThe sciences, which treat of general facts, are politics, natural\nphilosophy, physic, chemistry, &c. where the qualities, causes and\neffects of a whole species of objects are enquired into.\n\nDivinity or Theology, as it proves the existence of a Deity, and the\nimmortality of souls, is composed partly of reasonings concerning\nparticular, partly concerning general facts. It has a foundation in\n_reason_, so far as it is supported by experience. But its best and most\nsolid foundation is _faith_ and divine revelation.\n\nMorals and criticism are not so properly objects of the understanding as\nof taste and sentiment. Beauty, whether moral or natural, is felt, more\nproperly than perceived. Or if we reason concerning it, and endeavour to\nfix its standard, we regard a new fact, to wit, the general tastes of\nmankind, or some such fact, which may be the object of reasoning\nand enquiry.\n\nWhen we run over libraries, persuaded of these principles, what havoc\nmust we make? If we take in our hand any volume; of divinity or school\nmetaphysics, for instance; let us ask, _Does it contain any abstract\nreasoning concerning quantity or number?_ No. _Does it contain any\nexperimental reasoning concerning matter of fact and existence?_ No.\nCommit it then to the flames: for it can contain nothing but sophistry\nand illusion.\n\n\n\n\nINDEX\n\n\nAbstraction\n  not source of ideas of primary qualities, 122.\n\nAcademic\n  philosophy, 34.\n\nAction\n  and philosophy, 1, 4, 34, 128;\n\nAddition\n  4.\n\nAnalogy\n  a species of, the foundation of all reasoning about matter of fact,\n          82;\n\nAnimals\n  the reason of, 83-85;\n  learn from experience and draw inferences, 83;\n  which can only be founded on custom, 84;\n  cause of difference between men and animals, 84 n.\n\nAntiquity\n  62.\n\nAppearances\n  to senses must be corrected by reason, 117.\n\nA priori\n  25, 36 n, 89 n, 132, 132 n.\n\nAristotle\n  4.\n\nAssociation\n  of ideas, three principles of, 18-19, 41-44 (v. _Cause_ C).\n\nAtheism\n  116.\n\n\nBacon\n  99.\n\nBelief\n  (v. _Cause_ C, 39-45);\n  and chance, 46.\n\nBerkeley\n  really a sceptic, 122 n.\n\nBigotry\n  102.\n\nBody\n  and soul, mystery of union of, 52;\n  volition and movements of, 52.\n\n  Real existence of (v. _Scepticism_, B, 118-123).\n\n\nCause\n  first (v. _God_, _Necessity_, 78-81; _Providence_,\n          102-115, 132 n).\n  a principle of association of ideas, 19, 43;\n  sole foundation of reasonings about matter of fact or real existence,\n          22.\n\n  A. _Knowledge of Causes arises from experience not from Reason_,\n          23-33.\n\n  Reasonings _a priori_ give no knowledge of cause and effect,\n          23 f.;\n  impossible to see the effect in the cause since they are totally\n          different, 25;\n  natural philosophy never pretends to assign ultimate causes, but only\n          to reduce causes to a few general causes, e.g. gravity, 26;\n  geometry applies laws obtained by experience, 27.\n\n  Conclusions from experience not based on any process of the\n          understanding, 28;\n  yet we infer in the future a similar connexion between known\n          qualities of things and their secret powers, to that which\n          we assumed in the past. On what is this inference based? 29;\n  demonstrative reasoning has no place here, and all experimental\n          reasoning assumes the resemblance of the future to the past,\n          and so cannot prove it without being circular, 30, 32;\n  if reasoning were the basis of this belief, there would be no need\n          for the multiplication of instances or of long experience,\n          31;\n  yet conclusions about matter of fact are affected by experience even\n          in beasts and children, so that they cannot be founded on\n          abstruse reasoning, 33;\n  to explain our inferences from experience a principle is required of\n          equal weight and authority with reason, 34.\n\n  B. _Custom enables us to infer existence of one object from the\n          appearance of another_, 35-38.\n\n  Experience enables us to ascribe a more than arbitrary connexion to\n          objects, 35;\n  we are determined to this by custom or habit which is the great guide\n          of human life, 36;\n  but our inference must be based on some fact present to the senses\n          or memory, 37;\n  the customary conjunction between such an object and some other\n          object produces an operation of the soul which is as\n          unavoidable as love, 38;\n  animals also infer one event from another by custom, 82-84;\n  and in man as in animals experimental reasoning depends on a species\n          of instinct or mechanical power that acts in us unknown to\n          ourselves, 85.\n\n  C. _Belief_, 39-45.\n  Belief differs from fiction or the loose reveries of the fancy by\n          some feeling annexed to it, 39;\n  belief cannot be defined, but may be described as a more lively,\n          forcible, firm, steady conception of an object than can be\n          attained by the imagination alone, 40;\n  it is produced by the principles of association, viz. resemblance,\n          41;\n  contiguity, 42;\n  causation, 43;\n  by a kind of pre-established harmony between the course of nature\n          and our ideas, 44;\n  this operation of our minds necessary to our subsistence and so\n          entrusted by nature to instinct rather than to reasoning, 45.\n\n  _Probability_, 46-7.\n\n  Belief produced by a majority of chances by an inexplicable\n          contrivance of Nature, 46 (cf. 87-8);\n  probability of causes: the failure of a cause ascribed to a secret\n          counteracting cause, 47 (cf. 67);\n  it is universally allowed that chance when strictly examined is a\n          mere negative word, 74.\n\n  D. _Power_, 49-57.\n\n  Power, force, energy, necessary connexion must either be defined by\n          analysis or explained by production of the impression from\n          which they are copied, 49;\n  from the first appearance of an object we cannot foretell its effect:\n          we cannot see the power of a single body: we only see\n          sequence, 50.\n\n  Is the idea of power derived from an internal impression and is it an\n          idea of reflection? 51;\n  it is not derived, as Locke said, from reasoning about power of\n          production in nature, 50 n;\n  nor from consciousness of influence of will over bodily organs, 52;\n  nor from effort to overcome resistance, 52 n (cf. 60 n);\n  nor from influence of will over mind, 53;\n  many philosophers appeal to an invisible intelligent principle, to a\n          volition of the supreme being, and regard causes as only\n          occasions and our mental conceptions as revelations, 54-5;\n  thus diminishing the grandeur of God, 56;\n  this theory too bold and beyond verification by our faculties, and\n          is no explanation, 57;\n  vis inertiae, 57 n.\n\n  In single instances we only see sequence of loose events which are\n          conjoined and never connected, 58;\n  the idea of necessary connexion only arises from a number of similar\n          instances, and the only difference between such a number and\n          a single instance is that the former produces a habit of\n          expecting the usual attendant, 59, 61.\n  This customary transition is the impression from which we form the\n          idea of necessary connexion.\n\n  E. _Reasoning from effect to cause and conversely_, 105-115 (v.\n          _Providence_).\n\n  In arguing from effect to cause we must not infer more qualities in\n          the cause than are required to produce the effect, nor reason\n          backwards from an inferred cause to new effects, 105-8;\n  we can reason back from cause to new effects in the case of human\n          acts by analogy which rests on previous knowledge, 111-2;\n  when the effect is entirely singular and does not belong to any\n          species we cannot infer its cause at all, 115.\n\n  F. _Definitions of Cause_, 60 (cf. 74 n).\n\nCeremonies\n  41.\n\nChance\n  ignorance of causes, 46;\n  has no existence, 74 (v. _Cause_ B).\n\nCicero\n  4.\n\nCircle\n  in reasoning, 30.\n\nClarke\n  37 n.\n\nColour\n  peculiarity of ideas of, 16.\n\nContiguity\n  19, 42.\n\nContradiction\n  the test of demonstration, 132.\n\nContrariety\n  19 n.\n\nContrary\n  of matter of fact always possible, 21, 132.\n\nCreation\n  132 n.\n\nCriticism\n  132.\n\nCudworth\n  57 n, 158 n.\n\nCustom\n  when strongest conceals itself, 24;\n  an ultimate principle of all conclusions from experience, 36, 127;\n  and belief, 39-45;\n  gives rise to inferences of animals, 84.\n\n\nDefinition\n  only applicable to complex ideas, 49;\n  need of, 131;\n  of cause, 60.\n\nDemonstrative\n  opp. intuitive, 20;\n  reasoning, 30;\n  confined to quantity and number, 131;\n  impossible to demonstrate a fact since no negation of a fact can\n          involve a contradiction, 132.\n\nDescartes\n  57 n.;\n  his universal doubt antecedent to study if strictly taken is\n          incurable, since even from an indubitable first principle no\n          advance can be made except by the faculties which we doubt,\n          116;\n  his appeal to the veracity of God is useless, 120 (v. _Scepticism_,\n          116-132).\n\nDesign\n  argument from, 105 f. (v. _Providence_).\n\nDivisibility\n  of mathematical and physical points, 124.\n\nDoubt\n  Cartesian, 116, 120 (v. _Scepticism_ A).\n\n\nEpictetus\n  34.\n\nEpicurean\n  philosophy, defence of, 102-15;\n  denial of providence and future state is harmless, 104 (v.\n          _Providence_).\n\nEuclid\n  truths in, do not depend on existence of circles or triangles, 20.\n\nEvidence\n  moral and natural, 70;\n  value of human, 82-9 (v. _Miracles_).\n\nEvil\n  doctrine of necessity either makes God the cause of evil or denies\n          existence of evil as regards the whole, 78-81.\n\nExistence\n  external and perception, 118-9 (v. _Scepticism_, B, 116-32).\n\nEx nihilo nihil\n  132 n.\n\nExperience\n  (v. _Cause_ A, 23-33);\n  opposition of reason and experience usual, but really erroneous and\n          superficial, 36 n.\n\n  Infallible, may be regarded as proof, 87 (v. _Miracles_);\n  all the philosophy and religion in the world cannot carry us beyond\n          the usual course of experience, 113.\n\nExtension\n  50;\n  a supposed primary quality, 122.\n\n\nFaith\n  101, 132.\n\nFiction\n  and fact (v. _Cause_ C), 39 f.\n\nFuture\n  inference to, from past, 29 (v. _Cause_ A).\n\n\nGeneral\n  ideas, do not really exist, but only particular ideas attached to a\n          general term, 125 n.\n\nGeography\n  mental, 8.\n\nGeometry\n  propositions of certain, as depending only on relations of ideas not\n          on existence of objects, 20;\n  gives no knowledge of ultimate causes: only applies laws discovered\n          by experience, 27.\n\nGod\n  idea of, 14;\n  no idea of except what we learn from reflection on our own\n          faculties, 57;\n  theory that God is cause of all motion and thought, causes being\n          only occasions of his volition, 54-57;\n  by doctrine of necessity either there are no bad actions or God is\n          the cause of evil, 78-81.\n\n  Veracity of, appealed to, 120.\n\n  And creation of matter, 132 n.\n\n  v. _Providence_, 102-115; _Scepticism_, 116-132.\n\nGolden\n  age, 107.\n\nGravity\n  26.\n\n\nHabit\n  (v. _Custom_, _Cause_ B).\n\nHistory\n  use of, 65.\n\nHuman\n  nature, inconstancy a constant character of, 68.\n\n\nIdeas\n  A. _Origin of_, 11-17.\n\n  Perceptions divided into impressions and ideas, 11-12;\n  the mind can only compound the materials derived from outward or\n          inward sentiment, 13 (cf. 53);\n  all ideas resolvable into simple ideas copied from precedent\n          feelings, 14;\n  deficiency in an organ of sensation produces deficiency in\n          corresponding idea, 15-16;\n  suspected ideas to be tested by asking for the impression from\n          which it is derived, 17 (cf. 49);\n  idea of reflection, 51;\n  general ideas, 135 n;\n  innate ideas, 19 n;\n  power of will over ideas, 53.\n\n  B. _Association of_, 18-19.\n\n  Ideas introduce each other with a certain degree of method and\n          regularity, 18;\n  only three principles of association, viz. Resemblance, Contiguity,\n          and Cause or Effect, 19;\n  contrariety, 19 n;\n  production of belief by these principles, 41-43.\n\n  C. Correspondence of ideas and course of nature, 44;\n  relations of ideas one of two possible objects of enquiry, 20;\n  such relations discoverable by the mere operation of thought, 20,\n          131;\n  no demonstration possible except in case of ideas of quantity or\n          number, 131.\n\nImagination\n  11, 39;\n  and belief, 40.\n\nImpressions\n  all our more lively perceptions, 12;\n  the test of ideas, 17, 49.\n\nIncest\n  peculiar turpitude of explained, 12.\n\nInconceivability\n  of the negative, 132 (cf. 20).\n\nInertia\n  57 n.\n\nInference\n  and similarity, 30, 115 (v. _Cause_).\n\nInfinite\n  divisibility, 124 f.\n\nInstances\n  multiplication of not required by reason, 31.\n\nInstinct\n  more trustworthy than reasoning, 45;\n  the basis of all experimental reasoning, 85;\n  the basis of realism, 118, 121.\n\nIntuitive\n  opp. mediate reasoning, 2.\n\n\nLa Bruyere\n  4.\n\nLiberty\n  (v. _Necessity_, 62-97).\n  Definition of hypothetical liberty, 73.\n  Necessary to morality, 77.\n\nLocke\n  4, 40 n, 50 n, 57 n.\n  His loose use of 'ideas,' 19 n;\n  betrayed into frivolous disputes about innate ideas by the\n          School-men, 19 n;\n  distinction of primary and secondary qualities, 122.\n\n\nMalebranche\n  4, 57 n..\n\nMan\n  a reasonable and active being, 4.\n\nMarriage\n  rules of, based on and vary with utility, 118.\n\nMathematics\n  ideas of, clear and determinate, hence their superiority to moral\n          and metaphysical sciences, 48;\n  their difficulty, 48.\n\n  Mathematical and physical points, 124 n.\n\nMatter\n  necessity of, 64;\n  creation of, 132 n (v. _Scepticism_ A).\n\nMatter-of-fact\n  contrary of, always possible, 21;\n  arguments to new, based only on cause and effect, 22.\n\nMetaphysics\n  not a science, 5-6;\n  how inferior and superior to mathematics, 48.\n\nMind\n  mental geography, 8;\n  secret springs and principles of, 9;\n  can only mix and compound materials given by inward and outward\n          sentiment, 13;\n  power of will over, 53.\n\nMiracles.\n  86-101.\n\n  Belief in human evidence diminishes according as the event witnessed\n          is unusual or extraordinary, 89;\n  difference between extraordinary and miraculous, 89 n;\n  if the evidence for a miracle amounted to proof we should have one\n          proof opposed by another proof, for the proof against a\n          miracle is as complete as possible;\n  an event is not miraculous unless there is a uniform experience,\n          that is a proof, against it, 90;\n  definition of miracle, 90 n;\n  hence no testimony is sufficient to establish a miracle unless its\n          falsehood would be more miraculous than the event it\n          establishes, 91;\n  as a fact the evidence for a miracle has never amounted to proof, 92;\n  the passion for the wonderful in human nature, 93;\n  prevalence of miracles in savage and early periods and their\n          diminution with civilization, 94;\n  the evidence for miracles in matters of religion opposed by the\n          almost infinite number of witnesses for rival religions, 95;\n  value of human testimony diminished by temptation to pose as a\n          prophet or apostle, 97;\n  no testimony for a miracle has ever amounted to a probability, much\n          less to a proof, and if it did amount to a proof it would be\n          opposed by another perfect proof, 98;\n  so a miracle can never be proved so as to be the foundation of a\n          system of religion, 99;\n  a conclusion which confounds those who base the Christian religion\n          on reason, not on faith, 100;\n  the Christian religion cannot be believed without a miracle which\n          will subvert the principle of a man's understanding and give\n          him a determination to believe what is most contrary to\n          custom and experience, 101.\n\nMoral\n  evil (q.v.) 80.\n\nMoral science\n  30;\n  inferior to mathematics, 48;\n  sceptical objections to, 126-7.\n\n  Moral evidence easily combined with natural, 70.\n\nMotion\n  50.\n\n\nNature\n  design in, 105 f. (v. _Providence_),\n  and the course of our ideas, 44.\n\n  State of, a philosophical fiction, 151, 151 n.\n\nNecessary\n  connexion (v. _Cause_).\n\nNecessity\n  two definitions of, 75.\n\n  A. _and Liberty_, 62-81;\n  the controversy is based on ambiguity, and all mankind have always\n          been of the same opinion on this subject, 63;\n  our idea of the necessity of matter arises solely from observed\n          uniformity and consequent inference, circumstances which are\n          allowed by all men to exist in respect of human action, 64;\n  history and knowledge of human nature assume such uniformity, 65,\n  which does not exclude variety due to education and progress, 66;\n  irregular actions to be explained by secret operation of contrary\n          causes, 67;\n  the inconstancy of human action, its constant character, as of winds\n          and weather, 68;\n  we all acknowledge and draw inferences from the regular conjunction\n          of motives and actions, 69;\n  history, politics, and morals show this, and the possibility of\n          combining moral and natural evidence shows that they have a\n          common origin, 70;\n  the reluctance to acknowledge the necessity of actions due to a\n          lingering belief that we can see real connexion behind mere\n          conjunction, 71;\n  we should begin with the examination not of the soul and will but of\n          brute matter, 72;\n  the prevalence of the liberty doctrine due to a false sensation of\n          liberty and a false experiment, 72 n;\n  though this question is the most contentious of all, mankind has\n          always agreed in the doctrine of liberty, if we mean by it\n          that hypothetical liberty which consists in a power of\n          acting or not acting according to the determinations of our\n          will, and which can be ascribed to every one who is not a\n          prisoner, 73;\n  liberty when opposed to necessity, and not merely to constraint, is\n          the same as chance, 74.\n\n  B. _Both necessity and liberty are necessary to morality_, this\n          doctrine of necessity only alters our view of matter and so\n          is at least innocent, 75;\n  rewards and punishments imply the uniform influence of motives, and\n          connexion of character and action: if necessity be denied,\n          a man may commit any crime and be no worse for it, 76;\n  liberty also essential to morality, 77.\n\n  Objection that doctrine of necessity and of a regular chain of\n          causes either makes God the cause of evil, or abolishes evil\n          in actions, 78;\n  Stoic answer, that the whole system is good, is specious but\n          ineffectual in practice, 79;\n  no speculative argument can counteract the impulse of our natural\n          sentiments to blame certain actions, 80;\n  how God can be the cause of all actions without being the author of\n          moral evil is a mystery with which philosophy cannot deal,\n          81.\n\nNegative\n  inconceivability of, 132.\n\nNewton\n  57 n.\n\nNisus\n  52 n, 60 n.\n\nNumber\n  the object of demonstration, 131.\n\n\nOccasional causes\n  theory of, 55.\n\n\nParallelism\n  between thought and course of nature, 44-5.\n\nPerception\n  and external objects, 119 f. (v. _Scepticism_, _Impression_,\n          _Idea_).\n\nPhilosophy\n  moral, two branches of, abstruse and practical, 1-5;\n  gratifies innocent curiosity, 6;\n  metaphysics tries to deal with matters inaccessible to human\n          understanding, 6.\n\n  True, must lay down limits of understanding, 7 (cf. 113);\n  a large part of, consists in mental geography, 8;\n  may hope to resolve principles of mind into still more general\n          principles, 9.\n\n  Natural, only staves off our ignorance a little longer, as moral or\n          metaphysical philosophy serves only to discover larger\n          portions of it, 26;\n  academical, or sceptical, flatters no bias or passion except love of\n          truth, and so has few partisans, 34;\n  though it destroy speculation, cannot destroy action, for nature\n          steps in and asserts her rights, 34;\n  moral, inferior to mathematics in clearness of ideas, superior in\n          shortness of arguments, 48.\n\n  Controversies in, due to ambiguity of terms, 62.\n\n  Disputes in, not be settled by appeal to dangerous consequences of a\n          doctrine, 75.\n\n  Speculative, entirely indifferent to the peace of society and\n          security of government, 104 (cf. 114).\n\n  All the philosophy in the world, and all the religion in the world,\n          which is nothing but a species of philosophy, can never\n          carry us beyond the usual course of experience, 113.\n\n  Happiness of, to have originated in an age and country of freedom\n          and toleration, 102.\n\nPoints\n  physical, indivisible, 124 n.\n\nPower\n  50 f, 60 n. (v. _Cause_ D).\n\nProbability\n  46 f. (v. _Cause_, B).\n\nProbable\n  arguments, 38, 46 n.\n\nProduction\n  50 n.\n\nPromises\n  not the foundation of justice, 257.\n\nProof\n  46 n, 86-101 (v. _Miracles_, _Demonstrative_).\n\nProvidence\n  102-115 (v. _God_).\n\n  The sole argument for a divine existence is from the marks of design\n          in nature; must not infer greater power in the cause than is\n          necessary to produce the observed effects, nor argue from\n          such an inferred cause to any new effects which have not\n          been observed, 105;\n  so must not infer in God more power, wisdom, and benevolence than\n          appears in nature, 106;\n  so it is unnecessary to try and save the honour of the Gods by\n          assuming the intractability of matter or the observance of\n          general laws, 107;\n  to argue from effects to unknown causes, and then from these causes\n          to unknown effects, is a gross sophism, 108.\n\n  From imperfect exercise of justice in this world we cannot infer its\n          perfect exercise in a future world, 109;\n  we must regulate our conduct solely by the experienced train of\n          events, 110;\n  in case of human works of art we can infer the perfect from the\n          imperfect, but that is because we know man by experience and\n          also know other instances of his art, 111-112;\n  but in the case of God we only know him by his productions, and do\n          not know any class of beings to which he belongs, 113;\n  and the universe, his production, is entirely singular and does not\n          belong to a known species of things, 115.\n\nPunishment\n  requires doctrines of necessity and liberty, 76 (v. _Necessity_).\n\nPyrrhonism\n  126.\n\n\nQualities\n  primary and secondary, 122.\n\nQuantity\n  and number, the only objects of demonstration, the parts of them\n          being entirely similar, 131.\n\n\nReal\n  presence, 86.\n\nReality\n  and thought, 44.\n\nRealism\n  of the vulgar, 118.\n\nReason\n  (a)  opp. intuition, 29;\n  opp. experience, 28, 36 n.\n\n  (b) Corrects sympathy and senses, 117.\n  No match for nature, 34.\n\n  Fallacious, compared with instinct, 45.\n\n  Of men and animals, 84 n.\n\n  (c) attempts to destroy, by reasoning, 124;\n  objections to abstract reasoning, 124 f. (v. _Scepticism_).\n\n  (d) _Reasoning_.\n\n  Two kinds of, demonstrative and moral, 30, 46 n, 132;\n  moral, divided into general and particular, 132;\n  produces demonstrations, proofs, and probabilities, 46 n.\n\n  Probable (v. _Cause_, 28-32).\n\nRelations\n  of ideas, discoverable by the mere operation of thought,\n          independently of the existence of any object, 20.\n\nReligion\n  a kind of philosophy, 113 (v. _Miracles, Providence_).\n\nResemblance\n  19, 41 (v. _Similarity_).\n\nResistance\n  and idea of power, 53 n.\n\n\nScepticism\n  A. antecedent to study and philosophy, such as Descartes' universal\n          doubt of our faculties, would be incurable: in a more\n          moderate sense it is useful, 116 (cf. 129-30);\n  extravagant attempts of, to destroy reason by reasoning, 124.\n\n  No such absurd creature as a man who has no opinion about anything\n          at all, 116;\n  admits of no answer and produces no conviction, 122 n. (cf. 34, 126,\n          128).\n\n  B. _As to the Senses_, 117-123.\n\n  The ordinary criticisms of our senses only show that they have to be\n          corrected by Reason, 117;\n  more profound arguments show that the vulgar belief in external\n          objects is baseless, and that the objects we see are nothing\n          but perceptions which are fleeting copies of other\n          existences, 118;\n  even this philosophy is hard to justify; it appeals neither to\n          natural instinct, nor to experience, for experience tells\n          nothing of objects which perceptions resemble, 119;\n  the appeal to the _veracity of God_ is useless, 120;\n  and scepticism is here triumphant, 121.\n\n  _The distinction between primary and secondary qualities_ is useless,\n          for the supposed primary qualities are only perceptions, 122;\n  and Berkeley's theory that ideas of primary qualities are obtained by\n          abstraction is impossible, 122, 122 n;\n  if matter is deprived of both primary and secondary qualities there\n          is nothing left except a mere something which is not worth\n          arguing about, 123.\n\n  C. _As to Reason_, 124-130.\n\n  Attempt to destroy Reason by reasoning extravagant, 124;\n  objection to _abstract reasoning_ because it asserts infinite\n          divisibility of extension which is shocking to common sense,\n          124,\n  and infinite divisibility of time, 125;\n  yet the ideas attacked are so clear and distinct that scepticism\n          becomes sceptical about itself, 125.\n\n  Popular objections to _moral reasoning_ about matter of fact, based\n          on weakness of understanding, variation of judgement, and\n          disagreement among men, confuted by action, 126;\n  philosophical objections, that we only experience conjunction and\n          that inference is based on custom, 127;\n  excessive scepticism refuted by its uselessness and put to flight by\n          the most trivial event in life, 128.\n\n  Mitigated scepticism or academical philosophy useful as a corrective\n          and as producing caution and modesty, 129;\n  and as limiting understanding to proper objects, 130;\n  all reasoning which is not either abstract, about quantity and\n          number, or experimental, about matters of fact, is sophistry\n          and illusion, 132.\n\n  D. In _Religion_ (v. _Miracles_, _Providence_).\n\nSciences\n  132 (v. _Reason_, (d); _Scepticism_, C).\n\nSecret\n  powers, 39;\n  counteracting causes, 47, 67.\n\nSenses\n  outward and inward sensation supplies all the materials of\n          thinking--must be corrected by reason, 117.\n\n  Scepticism concerning, 117 (v. _Scepticism_, B).\n\nSimilarity\n  basis of all arguments from experience, 31 (cf. 115).\n\nSolidity\n  50;\n  a supposed primary quality, 122.\n\nSoul\n  and body, 52.\n\nSpace\n  and time, 124 f.\n\nSpecies\n  an effect which belongs to no species does not admit of inference\n          to its cause, 115 (cf. 113).\n\nStoics\n  34, 79.\n\nSuperstition\n  6 (v. _Providence_).\n\n\nTheology\n  science of, 132 (v. _God_, _Providence_).\n\nTillotson\n  argument against real presence, 86.\n\nTime\n  and space, 124 f.\n\nTruth\n  8, 17 (v. _Scepticism_).\n\n\nUnderstanding\n  limits of human, 7;\n  operations of, to be classified, 8;\n  opp. experience, 28;\n  weakness of, 126 (v. _Reason_, _Scepticism_).\n\n\nVoluntariness\n  as ground of distinction between virtues and talents, 130.\n\n\nWhole\n  theory that everything is good as regards 'the whole,' 79, 80.\n\nWill\n  compounds materials given by senses, 13;\n  influence of over organs of body can never give us the idea of\n          power; for we are not conscious of any power in our will,\n          only of sequence of motions on will, 52;\n  so with power of will over our minds in raising up new ideas, 53.\n\n  Of God, cannot be used to explain motion, 57.\n\n  Freedom of (v. _Necessity_).","title":"An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":57808}