APPENDIX.
There is nothing I wou'd more willingly lay hold of, than
an opportunity of confessing my errors; and shou'd esteem
such a return to truth and reason to be more honourable than
the most unerring judgment. A man, who is free from mistakes,
can pretend to no praises, except from the justness of
his understanding: But a man, who corrects his mistakes,
shews at once the justness of his understanding, and the candour
and ingenuity of his temper. I have not yet been so
fortunate as to discover any very considerable mistakes in the
reasonings deliver'd in the preceding volumes, except on one
article: But I have found by experience, that some of my
expressions have not been so well chosen, as to guard against
all mistakes in the readers; and 'tis chiefly to remedy this
defect, I have subjoin'd the following appendix.
We can never be induc'd to believe any matter of fact,
except where its cause, or its effect, is present to us; but
what the nature is of that belief, which arises from the relation
of cause and effect, few have had the curiosity to ask themselves.
In my opinion, this dilemma is inevitable. Either
the belief is some new idea, such as that of reality or existance,
which we join to the simple conception of an object, or it is
merely a peculiar feeling or sentiment. That it is not a new
idea, annex'd to the simple conception, may be evinc'd from
these two arguments. First, We have no abstract idea of
existence, distinguishable and separable from the idea of
particular objects. 'Tis impossible, therefore, that this idea
of existence can be annex'd to the idea. of any object, or
form the difference betwixt a simple conception and belie£
Secondly, The mind has the command over all its ideas, and can separate, unite, mix, and vary them, as it pleases; so
that if belief consisted merely in a new idea, annex'd to the
conception, it wou'd be in a man's power to believe what he
pleas'd. We may, therefore, conclude, that belief consists
merely in a certain feeling or sentiment; in something, that
depends not on the will, but must arise from certain determinate
causes and principles, of which we are not masters.
When we are convinc'd of any matter of fact, we do nothing
but conceive it, along with a certain feeling, different from
what attends the mere reveries of the imagination. And when
we express our incredulity concerning any fact, we mean,
that the arguments for the fact produce not that feeling. Did
not the belief consist in a sentiment different from our mere
conception, whatever objects were presented by the wildest
imagination, wou'd be on an equal footing with the most
establish'd truths founded on history and experience. There
is nothing but the feeling, or sentiment, to distinguish the
one from the other.
This, therefore, being regarded as an undoubted truth,
that belief is nothing but a peculiar feeling, different from the simple conception, the next question, that naturally occurs, is,
what is the nature of this feeling, or sentiment, and whether it be analogous to any other sentiment of the human mind? This
question is important. For if it be not analogous to any
other sentiment, we must despair of explaining its causes,
and must consider it as an original principle of the human
mind. If it be analogous, we may hope to explain its causes
from analogy, and trace it up to more general principles. Now
that there is a greater firmness and solidity in the conceptions,
which are the objects of conviction and assurance,
than in the loose and indolent reveries of a castle-builder,
every one will readily own. They strike upon us with more
force; they are more present to us; the mind has a firmer
hold of them, and is more actuated and mov'd by them. It
acquiesces in them; and, in a manner, fixes and reposes
itself on them. In short, they approach nearer to the impressions, which are immediately present to us; and are
therefore analogous to many other operations of the mind.
There is not, in my opinion, any possibility of evading this
conclusion, but by asserting, that belief, beside the simple
conception, consists in some impression or feeling, distinguishable
from the conception. It does not modify the
conception, and render it more present and intense: It is
only annex'd to it, after the same manner that will and desire
are annex'd to particular conceptions of good and pleasure.
But the following considerations will, I hope, be sufficient to
remove this hypothesis. First, It is directly contrary to
experience, and our immediate consciousness. All men have
ever allow'd reasoning to be merely an operation of our
thoughts or ideas; and however those ideas may be varied
to the feeling, there is nothing ever enters into our conclusions
but ideas, or our fainter conceptions. For instance; I hear
at present a person's voice, whom I am acquainted with; and
this sound comes from the next room. This impression of
my senses immediately conveys my thoughts to the person,
along with all the surrounding objects. I paint them out to
myself as existent at present, with the same qualities and
relations, that I formerly knew them possess'd of. These
ideas take faster hold of my mind, than the ideas of an
in chanted castle. They are different to the feeling; but
there is no distinct or separate impression attending them.
'Tis the same case when I recollect the several incidents of
a journey, or the events of any history. Every particular
fact is there the object of belief. Its idea is modified differently
from the loose reveries of a castle-builder: But no
distinct impression attends every distinct idea, or conception
of matter of fact. This is the subject of plain experience.
If ever this experience can be disputed on any occasion, 'tis
when the mind has been agitated with doubts and difficulties;
and afterwards, upon taking the object in a new point of
view, or being presented with a new argument, fixes and
reposes itself in one settled conclusion and belief. In this case there is a feeling distinct and separate from the conception.
The passage from doubt and agitation to tranquility
and repose, conveys a satisfaction and pleasure to the mind.
But take any other case. Suppose I see the legs and thighs
of a person in motion, while some interpos'd object conceals
the rest of his body. Here 'tis certain, the imagination
spreads out the whole figure. I give him a head and
shoulders, and breast and neck. These members I conceive
and believe him to be possess'd of. Nothing can be more
evident, than that this whole operation is perform'd by the
thought or imagination alone. The transition is immediate.
The ideas presently strike us. Their customary connexion
with the present impression, varies them and modifies them
in a certain manner, but produces no act of the mind,
distinct from this peculiarity of conception. Let any one
examine his own mind, and he will evidently find this to be
the truth.
Secondly, Whatever may be the case, with regard to this
distinct impression, it must be allow'd, that the mind has a
firmer hold, or more steady conception of what it takes to be
matter of fact, than of fictions. Why then look any farther,
or multiply suppositions without necessity?
Thirdly, We can explain the causes of the firm conception,
but not those of any separate impression. And not only so,
but the causes of the firm conception exhaust the whole
subject, and nothing is left to produce any other effect. An
inference concerning a matter of fact is nothing but the idea
of an object, that is frequently conjoin'd, or is associated
with a present impression. This is the whole of it. Every
part is requisite to explain, from analogy, the more steady
conception; and nothing remains capable of producing any
distinct impression.
Fourthly, The effects of belief, in influencing the passions
and imagination, can all be explain'd from the firm conception;
and there is no occasion to have recourse to any other
principle. These arguments, with many others, enumerated in the foregoing volumes, sufficiently prove, that belief only
modifies the idea or conception; and renders it different to
the feeling, without producing any distinct impression.
Thus upon a general view of the subject, there appear to
be two questions of importance, which we may venture to
recommend to the consideration of philosophers, Whether there be any thing to distinguish belief from the simple conception beside the feeling or sentiment? And, Whether this feeling be any thing but a firmer conception, or a faster hold’ that we take of the object?
If, upon impartial enquiry, the same conclusion, that I
have form'd, be assented to by philosophers, the next
business is to examine the analogy, which there is betwixt
belie£ and other acts of the mind, and find the cause of the
firmness and strength of conception: And this I do not
esteem a difficult task. The transition from a present impression,
always enlivens and strengthens any idea. When
any object is presented, the idea of its usual attendant immediately
strikes us, as something real and solid. 'Tis felt,
rather than conceiv'd, and approaches the impression, from
which it is deriv'd, in its force and influence. This I have
prov'd at large. I cannot add any new arguments; tho
perhaps my reasoning on this whole question, concerning
cause and effect, wou'd have been more convincing, had the
following passages been inserted in the places, which I have
mark'd for them. I have added a few illustrations on other
points, where I thought it necessary.
To be inserted in Book I. page 85. line 22. after these words (fainter and more obscure.) beginning a new paragraph.
It frequently happens, that when two men have been
engag'd in any scene of action, the one shall remember it
much better than the other, and shall have all the difficulty in
the world to make his companion recollect it. He runs over
several circumstances in vain; mentions the time, the place, the company, what was said, what was done on all sides;
till at last he hits on some lucky circumstance, that revives
the whole, and gives his friend a perfect memory of every
thing. Here the person that forgets receives at first all the
ideas from the discourse of the other, with the same circumstances
of time and place; tho' he considers them as mere
fictions of the imagination. But as soon as the circumstance
is mention'd, that touches the memory, the very same ideas
now appear in a new light, and have, in a manner, a different
feeling from what they had before. Without any other
alteration, beside that of the feeling, they become immediately
ideas of the memory, and are assented to.
Since, therefore, the imagination can represent all the
same objects that the memory can offer to us, and since
those faculties are only distinguish'd by the different feeling
of the ideas they present, it may be proper to consider what
is the nature of that feeling. And here I believe every one
will readily agree with me, that the ideas of the memory are
more strong and lively than those of the fancy. A painter,
who intended, &c.
To be inserted in Book I. page 97. line 16. after these words (according to the foregoing definition.) beginning a new paragraph.
This operation of the mind, which forms the belief of
any matter of fact, seems hitherto to have been one of the
greatest mysteries of philosophy: tho' no one has so much
as suspected, that there was any difficulty in explaining it.
For my part I must own, that I find a considerable difficulty
in the case; and that even when I think I understand the
subject perfectly, I am at a loss for terms to express my
meaning. I conclude, by an induction which seems to me
very evident, that an opinion or belief is nothing but an idea,
that is different from a fiction, not in the nature, or the order
of its parts, but in the manner of its being conceiv'd. But when I wou'd explain this manner, I scarce find any word
that fully answers the case, but am oblig'd to have recourse
to every one's feeling, in order to give him a perfect notion
of this operation of the mind. An idea assented to feels
different from a fictitious idea, that the fancy alone presents
to us: And this different feeling I endeavour to explain by
calling it a superior force, or vivacity, or solidity, or firmness,
or steadiness. This variety of terms, which may seem so unphilosophieal,
is intended only to express that act of the
mind, which renders realities more present to us than fictions,
causes them to weigh more in the thought, and gives them a
superior influence on the passions and imagination. Provided
we agree about the thing, 'tis needless to dispute about
the terms. The imagination has the command over all its ideas,
and can join, and mix, and vary them in all the ways possible.
It may conceive objects with all the circumstances of place
and time. It may set them, in a manner, before our eyes in
their true colours, just as they might have existed. But as it
is impossible, that that faculty can ever, of itself, reach belief,
tis evident, that belief consists not in the nature and order of
our ideas, but in the manner of their conception, and in their
feeling to the mind. I confess, that 'tis impossible to explain
perfectly this feeling or manner of conception. We may
make use of words, that express something near it. But its
true and proper name is belief which is a term that every one
sufficiently understands in common life. And in philosophy
we can go no farther, than assert, that it is something felt by
the mind, which distinguishes the ideas of the judgment
from the iictions of the imagination. It gives them more
force and induenoeg makes them appear of greater importance;
iniixes them in the mind; and renders them the
governing principles of all our actions.
A note to Book I. page 100. line 35. after these words (immediate
impression).
Nafurane nobis, inquil, datum dicam, an errore quodam, ut, cum ea loca videamus, in quibus memoria dignos viros acceptimus multum esse versato, magis moveamur, quam siquando eorum ipsorum aut facta audiamus, aut scriptum aliquod legamus? velut ego nunc moveor. Venil enim mihi Platonis in mentem: quem accipimus primum hic disputare solitum: Cujus etiam illi hortuli propinqui non memoriam solum mihi afferunt, sed ipsum videntur in conspectu meo hic ponere. Hic Speusippus, hic Xenocrates, hic ejus auditor Polemo; cujus ipsa illa sessio fuit, quam videamus. Equidem etiam curiam nostrum, hostiliam dico, non hanc novam, quæ mihi minor esse videtur postquam est major, solebam intuens Scipionem, Catonem, Lælium, nostrum vero in primus avum cogitare. Tanta vis admonitionis inest in locis; ut non sine causa ex his memoriæ ducta sit disciplina. Cicero de Finibus, lib. 5.
To be inserted in Book I. page 123. line 26. after these words (impressions of the senses.) beginning a new paragraph.
We may observe the same effect of poetry in a lesser
degree; and this is common both to poetry and madness,
that the vivacity they bestow on the ideas is not deriv'd from
the particular situations or connexions of the objects of these
ideas, but from the present temper and disposition of the
person. But how great soever the pitch may be, to which
this vivacity rises, 'tis evident, that in poetry it never has the
same feeling with that which arises in the mind, when we
reason, tho' even upon the lowest species of probability.
The mind can easily distinguish betwixt the one and the
other; and whatever emotion the poetical enthusiasm may
give to the spirits, 'tis still the mere phantom of belief or
persuasion. The case is the same with the idea, as with the
passion it occasions. There is no passion of the human mind but what may arise from poetry; tho' at the same time
the feelings of the passions are very different when excited by
poetical fictions, from what they are when they arise from
belief and reality. A passion, which is disagreeable in real
life, may afford the highest entertainment in a tragedy, or epic
poem. In the latter case it lies not with that weight upon
us: It feels less firm and solid: And has no other than the
agreeable effect of exciting the spirits, and rouzing the attention.
The difference in the passions is a clear proof of a like
difference in thou ideas, from which the passions are deriv'd.
Where the vivacity arises from a customary conjunction with
a present impression; tho' the imagination may not, in
appearance, be so much mov'd; yet there is always something
more forcible and real in its actions, than in the fervors
of poetry and eloquence. The force of our mental actions
in this case, no more than in any other, is not to be measur'd
by the apparent agitation of the mind. A poetical description
may have a more sensible effect on the fancy, than an
historical narration. It may collect more of those circumstances,
that form a compleat image or picture. It may seem
to set the object before us in more lively colours. But still
the ideas it presents are different to the feeling from those,
which arise from the memory and the judgment. There is
something weak and imperfect amidst all that seeming vehemence
of thought and sentiment, which attends the fictions
of poetry.
We shall afterwards have occasion to remark both the resemblances
and differences betwixt a poetical enthusiasm,
and a serious conviction. In the mean time I cannot forbear
observing, that the great difference in their feeling proceeds
in some measure from reflection and general rules. We
observe, that the vigour of conception, which fictions receive
from poetry and eloquence, is a circumstance merely accidental,
of which every idea is equally susceptible; and that
such fictions are connected with nothing that is real. This
observation makes us only lend ourselves, so to speak, to the fiction: But causes the idea to feel very different from the
eternal establish'd persuasions founded on memory and
custom. They are somewhat of the same kind: But the one
is much inferior to the other, both in its causes and effects.
A like reflection on general rules keeps us from augmenting
our belief upon every encrease of the force and vivacity of
our ideas. Where an opinion admits of no doubt, or opposite
probability, we attribute to it a full conviction; tho' the
want of resemblance, or contiguity, may render its force inferior
to that of other opinions. 'Tis thus the understanding
corrects the appearances of the senses, and makes us imagine,
that an object at twenty foot distance seems even to the eye
as large as one of the same dimensions at ten.
To be inserted in Book I. page1615. line 12. after these words (any idea of power.) beginning a new paragraph.
Some have asserted, that we feel an energy, or power, in
our own mind; and that having in this manner acquir'd the
idea of power, we transfer that quality to matter, where we
are not able immediately to discover it. The motions of our
body, and the thoughts and sentiments of our mind, (say
they) obey the will; nor do we seek any farther to acquire a
just notion of force or power. But to convince us how
fallacious this reasoning is, we need only consider, that the
will being here consider'd as a cause, has no more a discoverable
connexion with its effects, than any material cause
has with its proper effect. So far from perceiving the connexion
betwixt an act of volition, and a motion of the body;
'tis allow'd that no effect is more inexplicable from the powers
and essence of thought and matter. Nor is the empire of
the will over our mind more intelligible. The effect is there
distinguishable and separable from the cause, and cou'd not
be foreseen without the experience of their constant conjunction. We have command over our mind to a certain degree, but beyond that lose all empire over it: And 'tis evidently impossible to fix any precise bounds to our authority,
where we consult not experience. In short, the actions
of the mind are, in this respect, the same with those of
matter. We perceive only their constant conjunction; nor
can we ever reason beyond it. No internal impression has
an apparent energy, more than external objects have. Since,
therefore, matter is confess'd by philosophers to operate by
an unknown force, we shou'd in vain hope to attain an idea
of force by consulting our own minds.
I had entertain'd some hopes, that however deficient our
theory of the intellectual world might be, it wou'd be free
from those contradictions, and absurdities, which seem to
attend every explication, that human reason can give of the
material world. But upon a more strict review of the section
concerning personal identity, I find myself involv'd in such a
labyrinth, that, I must confess, I neither know how to correct
my former opinions, nor how to render them consistent. If
this be not a good general reason for scepticism, 'tis at least
a sufficient one (if I were not already abundantly supplied)
for me to entertain a diffidence and modesty in all my
decisions. I shall propose the arguments on both sides,
beginning with those that induc'd me to deny the strict and
proper identity and simplicity of a self or thinking being.
When we talk of self or substance, we must have an idea
annex'd to these terms, otherwise they are altogether unintelligible.
Every idea is deriv'd from preceding impressions;
and we have no impression of self or substance, as something
simple and individual. We have, therefore, no idea of them
in that sense.
Whatever is distinct, is distinguishable; and whatever is
distinguishable, is separable by the thought or imagination.
All perceptions are distinct. They are, therefore, distinguishable,
and separable, and may be conceiv'd as separately
existent, and may exist separately, without any contradiction
or absurdity.
When I view this table and that chimney, nothing is
present to me but particular perceptions, which are of a like
nature with all the other perceptions. This is the doctrine
of philosophers. But this table, which is present to me, and
that chimney, may and do exist separately. This is the
doctrine of the vulgar, and implies no contradiction. There
is no contradiction, therefore, in extending the same doctrine
to all the perceptions.
In general, the following reasoning seems satisfactory. All
ideas are borrow'd from preceding perceptions. Our ideas of
objects, therefore, are deriv'd from that source. Consequently
no proposition can be intelligible or consistent with regard to
objects, which is not so with regard to perceptions. But 'tis
intelligible and consistent to say, that objects exist distinct
and independent, without any common simple substance or
subject of inhesion. This proposition, therefore, can never
be absurd with regard to perceptions.
When I turn my reflection on myself I never can perceive
this self without some one or more perceptions; nor can I
ever perceive any thing but the perceptions. 'Tis the composition
of these, therefore, which forms the self.
We can conceive a thinking being to have either many or
few perceptions. Suppose the mind to be reduc'd even below
the life of an oyster. Suppose it to have only one perception,
as of thirst or hunger. Consider it in that situation.
Do you conceive any thing but merely that perception?
Have you any notion of self or substance? If not, the
addition of other perceptions can never give you that notion.
The annihilation, which some people suppose to follow
upon death, and which entirely destroys this self, is nothing but an extinction of all particular perceptions; love and
hatred, pain and pleasure, thought and sensation. These
therefore must be the same with self; since the one cannot
survive the other.
Is self the same with substance? If it be, how can that
question have place, concerning the subsistence of self, under
a change of substance? If they be distinct, what is the
difference betwixt them? For my part, I have a notion of
neither, when conceiv'd distinct from particular perceptions.
Philosophers begin to be reconcil'd to the principle, that we have no idea of external substance, distinct from the ideas of particular qualities. This must pave the way for a like
principle with regard to the mind, that we have no notion of it, distinct from the particular perceptions.
So far I seem to be attended with sufficient evidence. But
having thus loosen'd all our particular perceptions, when I
proceed to explain the principle of connexion, which binds
them together, and makes us attribute to them a real simplicity
and identity; I am sensible, that my account is very
defective, and that nothing but the seeming evidence of the
precedent reasonings cou'd have induc'd me to receive it. If
perceptions are distinct existences, they form a whole only by
being connected together. But no connexions among distinct
existences are ever discoverable by human understanding.
We only feel a connexion or determination of the thought, to
pass from one object to another. It follows, therefore, that
the thought alone finds personal identity, when reflecting on
the train of past perceptions, that compose a mind, the ideas
of them are felt to be connected together, and naturally introduce
each other. However extraordinary this conclusion
may seem, it need not surprize us. Most philosophers seem
inclin'd to think, that personal identity arises from consciousness;
and consciousness is nothing but a reflected thought or
perception. The present philosophy, therefore, has so far a
promising aspect. But all my hopes vanish, when I come to explain the principles, that unite our successive perceptions
in our thought or consciousness. I cannot discover
any theory, which gives me satisfaction on this head.
In short there are two principles, which I cannot render
consistent; nor is it in my power to renounce either of them,
viz. that all our distinct perceptions are distinct existences, and
that the mind never perceives any real connexion among distinct existences. Did our perceptions either inhere in something
simple and individual, or did the mind perceive some real
connexion among them, there wou'd be no difficulty in the
case. For my part, I must plead the privilege of a sceptic,
and confess, that this difficulty is too hard for my understanding.
I pretend not, however, to pronounce it absolutely
insuperable. Others, perhaps, or myself, upon more mature
reflections, may discover some hypothesis, that will reconcile
those contradictions.
I shall also take this opportunity of confessing two other
errors of less importance, which more mature reflection has
discover'd to me in my reasoning. The first may be found
in Book I. page 58. where I say, that the distance betwixt
two bodies is known, among other things, by the angles,
which the rays of light flowing from the bodies make with
each other. 'Tis certain, that these angles are not known to
the mind, and consequently can never discover the distance.
The second error may be found in Book I. page 96. where
I say, that two ideas of the same object can only be different
by their different degrees of force and vivacity. I believe there
are other differences among ideas, which cannot properly be
comprehended under these terms. Had I said, that two ideas
of the same object can only be different by their different
feeling, I shou'd have been nearer the truth.
There are two errors of the press, which affect the sense,
and therefore the reader is desir'd to correct them. In Book
I. page 190. lines 16, 17. for as the perception read a perception.
In Book I. p. 263. line 14. for moral read natural.
A note to Book I. page 20. line 17. to the word (resemblance.)
'Tis evident, that even different simple ideas may have
a similarity or resemblance to each other; nor is it necessary,
that the point or circumstance of resemblance shou'd
be distinct or separable from that in which they differ.
Blue and green are different simple ideas, but are more
resembling than blue and scarlet; tho' their perfect simplicity
excludes all possibility of separation or distinction.
Tis the same case with particular sounds, and tastes and
smells. These admit of infinite resemblances upon the
general appearance and comparison, without having any
common circumstance the same. And of this we may be
certain, even from the very abstract terms simple idea. They
comprehend all simple ideas imder them. These resemble
each other in their simplicity. And yet from their very
nature, which excludes all composition, this circumstance,
in which they resemble, is not distinguishable nor separable
from the rest. 'Tis the same case with all the degrees in
any quality. They are all resembling, and yet the quality,
in any individual, is not distinct from the degree.
To be inserted in Book I. page 47. line 4. after these words (of the present difficulty.) beginning a new paragraph.
There are many philosophers, who refuse to assign any
standard of equality, but assert, that 'tis sufficient to present
two objects, that are equal, in order to give us a just notion
of this proportion. All definitions, say they, are fruitless,
without the perception of such objects; and where we perceive
such objects, we no longer stand in need of any definition.
To this reasoning I entirely agree; and assert, that
the only useful notion of equality, or inequality, is deriv'd
from the whole united appearance and the comparison of
particular objects. For 'tis evident that the eye, &c.
.
To be inserted in Book I. page 52. line 17. after these words (practicable or imaginable.) beginning a new paragraph.
To whatever side mathematicians turn, this dilemma still
meets them. If they judge of equality, or any other proportion,
by the accurate and exact standard, viz. the enumeration
of the minute indivisible parts, they both employ a
standard, which is useless in practice, and actually establish
the indivisibility of extension, which they endeavour to explode.
Or if they employ, as is usual, the inaccurate
standard, deriv'd from a comparison of objects, upon their
general appearance, corrected by measuring and juxta position;
their first principles, tho' certain and infallible, are too
coarse to afford any such subtile inferences as they commonly
draw from them. The first principles are founded on
the imagination and senses: The conclusion, therefore, can
never go beyond, much less contradict these faculties.
A note to Book I. page 64. line 19. to these words (impressions
and ideas.)
As long as we confine our speculations to the appearances of objects to our senses, without entering into disquisitions
concerning their real nature and operations, we are safe from
all difficulties, and can never be embarrass'd by any question.
Thus, if it be ask'd, if the invisible and intangible distance,
interpos'd betwixt two objects, be something or nothing:
'Tis easy to answer, that it is something, viz. a property of
the objects, which affect the senses after such a particular
manner. If it be ask'd, whether two objects, having such a
distance betwixt them, touch or not: It may be answer'd,
that this depends upon the definition of the word, touch. If
objects be said to touch, when there is nothing sensible interpos'd
betwixt them, these objects touch: If objects be said to
touch, when their images strike contiguous parts of the eye, and when the hand feels both objects successively without
any interpos'd motion, these objects do not touch. The
appearances of objects to our senses are all consistent; and
no difficulties can ever arise, but from the obscurity of the
terms we make use of.
If we carry our enquiry beyond the appearances of objects
to the senses, I am afraid, that most of our conclusions
will be full of scepticism and uncertainty. Thus if it be ask'd,
whether or not the invisible and intangible distance be always
full of body, or of something that by an improvement of our
organs might become visible or tangible, I must acknowledge,
that I find no very decisive arguments on either side; tho' I
am inclin'd to the contrary opinion, as being more suitable
to vulgar and popular notions. If the Newtonian philosophy
be rightly understood, it will be found to mean no more.
A vacuum is asserted: That is, bodies are said to be plac'd
after such a manner, as to receive bodies betwixt them,
without impulsion or penetration. The real nature of this
position of bodies is unknown. We are only acquainted with
its effects on the senses, and its power of receiving body.
Nothing is more suitable to that philosophy, than a modest
scepticism to a certain degree, and a fair confession of
ignorance in subjects, that exceed all human capacity.
FINIS.
Uncharted Knowledge
Wisdom From Previous Realities
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