,english ,men of ,letters ,,edited ,,by ,,john ,,morley ,,hume ,illustration3 ,publisher's logo ,,hume ,,by ,,professor ,,huxley ,london ,,macmillan ,,and ,,co #ahgi ,the ,right of ,translation and ,reproduction is ,reserved ,,london3 ,r4 ,,clay1 ,,sons1 ,,and ,,taylor1 ,,bread ,,street ,,hill4 99 99 99 99 99 ,,contents4 ,,part ,i4--,,hume',s ,,life4 ,,chapter ,i4 ,,page ,,early ,,life3 ,,literary ,,and ,,political ,,writings #a ,,chapter ,,ii4 ,,later ,,years3 ,,the ,,history ,,of ,,england #bf ,,part ,,ii4--,,hume',s ,,philosophy4 ,,chapter ,i4 ,,the ,,object ,,and ,,scope ,,of ,,philosophy #dh ,,chapter ,,ii4 ,,the ,,contents ,,of ,,the ,,mind #fj ,,chapter ,,iii4 ,,the ,,origin ,,of ,,the ,,impressions4 #gd ,,chapter ,,iv4 ,,the ,,classification ,,and ,,the ,,nomenclature ,,of ,,mental ,,operations #hi ,,chapter ,v4 ,,the ,,mental ,,phenomena ,,of ,,animals #ajc ,,chapter ,,vi4 ,,language--,,propositions ,,concerning ,,necessary ,,truths #aad ,,chapter ,,vii4 ,,the ,,order ,,of ,,nature3 ,,miracles #abi ,,chapter ,,viii4 ,,theism3 ,,evolution ,,of ,,theology #adj ,,chapter ,,ix4 ,,the ,,soul3 ,,the ,,doctrine ,,of ,,immortality #afe ,,chapter ,x4 ,,volition3 ,,liberty ,,and ,,necessity #ahc ,,chapter ,,xi4 ,,the ,,principles ,,of ,,morals #aig 99 99 99 99 99 ,,hume4 ,,part ,i4 ,,hume',s ,,life4 ,,chapter ,i4 ,,early ,,life3 ,,literary ,,and ,,political ,,writings4 ,david ,hume was born1 in ,edinburgh on the #bfth of ,april 7,o4,s471 #agaa4 ,his parents were then residing in the parish of the ,tron church1 apparently on a visit to the ,scottish capital1 as the small estate which his father ,joseph ,hume1 or ,home1 inherited1 lay in ,berwickshire1 on the banks of the ,whitadder or ,whitewater1 a few miles from the border1 and within sight of ,english ground4 ,the paternal mansion was little more than a very modest farmhouse1#a and the property derived its name of ,ninewells from a considerable spring1 which breaks out on the slope in front of the house1 and falls into the ,whitadder4 ,both mother and father came of good ,scottish families--the paternal line running back to ,lord ,home of ,douglas1 who went over to ,france with the ,douglas during the ,french wars of ,henry ,v4 and ,,vi4 and was killed at the battle of ,verneuil4 ,joseph ,hume died when ,david was an infant1 leaving himself and two elder children1 a brother and a sister1 to the care of their mother1 who is described by ,david ,hume in ,my ,own ,life as a woman of singular merit1 who though young and handsome devoted herself entirely to the rearing and education of her children4 ,mr4 ,burton says3 ,her portrait1 which ,i have seen1 represents a thin but pleasing countenance1 expressive of great intellectual acuteness2 and as ,hume told ,dr4 ,black that she had precisely the same constitution with himself and died of the disorder which proved fatal to him1 it is probable that the qualities inherited from his mother had much to do with the future philosopher's eminence4 ,it is curious1 however1 that her estimate of her son in her only recorded1 and perhaps slightly apocryphal utterance1 is of a somewhat unexpected character4 ,our ,davie's a fine goodnatured crater1 but uncommon wake-minded4 ,the first part of the judgment was indeed verified by ,davie's whole life2 but one might seek in vain for signs of what is commonly understood as weakness of mind in a man who not only showed himself to be an intellectual athlete1 but who had an eminent share of practical wisdom and tenacity of purpose4 ,one would like to know1 however1 when it was that ,mrs4 ,hume committed herself to this not too flattering judgment of her younger son4 ,for as ,hume reached the mature age of four and thirty1 before he obtained any employment of sufficient importance to convert the meagre pittance of a middling laird's younger brother into a decent maintenance1 it is not improbable that a shrewd ,scots wife may have thought his devotion to philosophy and poverty to be due to mere infirmity of purpose4 ,but she lived till #agdi1 long enough to see more than the dawn of her son's literary fame and official importance1 and probably changed her mind about ,davie's force of character4 ,david ,hume appears to have owed little to schools or universities4 ,there is some evidence that he entered the ,greek class in the ,university of ,edinburgh in #agbc--when he was a boy of twelve years of age--but it is not known how long his studies were continued1 and he did not graduate4 ,in #agbg1 at any rate1 he was living at ,ninewells1 and already possessed by that love of learning and thirst for literary fame1 which1 as ,my ,own ,life tells us1 was the ruling passion of his life and the chief source of his enjoyments4 ,a letter of this date1 addressed to his friend ,michael ,ramsay1 is certainly a most singular production for a boy of sixteen4 ,after sundry quotations from ,virgil the letter proceeds3-- ,the perfectly wise man that outbraves fortune1 is much greater than the husbandman who slips by her2 and1 indeed1 this pastoral and saturnian happiness ,i have in a great measure come at just now4 ,i live like a king1 pretty much by myself1 neither full of action nor perturbation--molles somnos4 ,this state1 however1 ,i can foresee is not to be relied on4 ,my peace of mind is not sufficiently confirmed by philosophy to withstand the blows of fortune4 ,this greatness and elevation of soul is to be found only in study and contemplation4 ,this alone can teach us to look down on human accidents4 ,you must allow me to talk thus like a philosopher3 'tis a subject ,i think much on1 and could talk all day long of4 ,if ,david talked in this strain to his mother her tongue probably gave utterance to ,bless the bairn6 and1 in her private soul1 the epithet wake-minded may then have recorded itself4 ,but1 though few lonely1 thoughtful1 studious boys of sixteen give vent to their thoughts in such stately periods1 it is probable that the brooding over an ideal is commoner at this age1 than fathers and mothers1 busy with the cares of practical life1 are apt to imagine4 ,about a year later1 ,hume's family tried to launch him into the profession of the law2 but1 as he tells us1 while they fancied ,i was poring upon ,voet and ,vinnius1 ,cicero and ,virgil were the authors which ,i was secretly devouring1 and the attempt seems to have come to an abrupt termination4 ,nevertheless1 as a very competent authority#b wisely remarks3-- ,there appear to have been in ,hume all the elements of which a good lawyer is made3 clearness of judgment1 power of rapidly acquiring knowledge1 untiring industry1 and dialectic skill3 and if his mind had not been preoccupied1 he might have fallen into the gulf in which many of the world's greatest geniuses lie buried--professional eminence2 and might have left behind him a reputation limited to the traditional recollections of the ,parliament house1 or associated with important decisions4 ,he was through life an able1 clear-headed1 man of business1 and ,i have seen several legal documents1 written in his own hand and evidently drawn by himself4 ,they stand the test of general professional observation2 and their writer1 by preparing documents of facts of such a character on his own responsibility1 showed that he had considerable confidence in his ability to adhere to the forms adequate for the occasion4 ,he talked of it as 'an ancient prejudice industriously propagated by the dunces in all countries1 that a man of genius is unfit for business1' and he showed1 in his general conduct through life1 that he did not choose to come voluntarily under this proscription4 ,six years longer ,hume remained at ,ninewells before he made another attempt to embark in a practical career--this time commerce--and with a like result4 ,for a few months' trial proved that kind of life1 also1 to be hopelessly against the grain4 ,it was while in ,london1 on his way to ,bristol1 where he proposed to commence his mercantile life1 that ,hume addressed to some eminent ,london physician 7probably1 as ,mr4 ,burton suggests1 ,dr4 ,george ,cheyne7 a remarkable letter4 ,whether it was ever sent seems doubtful2 but it shows that philosophers as well as poets have their ,werterian crises1 and it presents an interesting parallel to ,john ,stuart ,mill's record of the corresponding period of his youth4 ,the letter is too long to be given in full1 but a few quotations may suffice to indicate its importance to those who desire to comprehend the man4 ,you must know then that from my earliest infancy ,i found always a strong inclination to books and letters4 ,as our college education in ,scotland1 extending little further than the languages1 ends commonly when we are about fourteen or fifteen years of age1 ,i was after that left to my own choice in my reading1 and found it incline me almost equally to books of reasoning and philosophy1 and to poetry and the polite authors4 ,every one who is acquainted either with the philosophers or critics1 knows that there is nothing yet established in either of these two sciences1 and that they contain little more than endless disputes1 even in the most fundamental articles4 ,upon examination of these1 ,i found a certain boldness of temper growing on me1 which was not inclined to submit to any authority in these subjects1 but led me to seek out some new medium1 by which truth might be established4 ,after much study and reflection on this1 at last1 when ,i was about eighteen years of age1 there seemed to be opened up to me a new scene of thought1 which transported me beyond measure1 and made me1 with an ardour natural to young men1 throw up every other pleasure or business to apply entirely to it4 ,the law1 which was the business ,i designed to follow1 appeared nauseous to me1 and ,i could think of no other way of pushing my fortune in the world1 but that of a scholar and philosopher4 ,i was infinitely happy in this course of life for some months2 till at last1 about the beginning of ,september1 #agbi1 all my ardour seemed in a moment to be extinguished1 and ,i could no longer raise my mind to that pitch1 which formerly gave me such excessive pleasure4 ,this decline of soul ,hume attributes1 in part1 to his being smitten with the beautiful representations of virtue in the works of ,cicero1 ,seneca1 and ,plutarch1 and being thereby led to discipline his temper and his will along with his reason and understanding4 ,i was continually fortifying myself with reflections against death1 and poverty1 and shame1 and pain1 and all the other calamities of life4 ,and he adds very characteristically3-- ,these no doubt are exceeding useful when joined with an active life1 because the occasion being presented along with the reflection1 works it into the soul1 and makes it take a deep impression3 but1 in solitude1 they serve to little other purpose than to waste the spirits1 the force of the mind meeting no resistance1 but wasting itself in the air1 like our arm when it misses its aim4 ,along with all this mental perturbation1 symptoms of scurvy1 a disease now almost unknown among landsmen1 but which1 in the days of winter salt meat1 before root crops flourished in the ,lothians1 greatly plagued our forefathers1 made their appearance4 ,and1 indeed1 it may be suspected that physical conditions were1 at first1 at the bottom of the whole business2 for1 in #agca1 a ravenous appetite set in and1 in six weeks from being tall1 lean1 and raw-boned1 ,hume says he became sturdy and robust1 with a ruddy complexion and a cheerful countenance--eating1 sleeping1 and feeling well1 except that the capacity for intense mental application seemed to be gone4 ,he1 therefore1 determined to seek out a more active life2 and1 though he could not and would not quit his pretensions to learning1 but with his last breath1 he resolved to lay them aside for some time1 in order the more effectually to resume them4 ,the careers open to a poor ,scottish gentleman in those days were very few2 and1 as ,hume's option lay between a travelling tutorship and a stool in a merchant's office1 he chose the latter4 ,and having got recommendation to a considerable trader in ,bristol1 ,i am just now hastening thither1 with a resolution to forget myself1 and everything that is past1 to engage myself1 as far as is possible1 in that course of life1 and to toss about the world from one pole to the other1 till ,i leave this distemper behind me4#c ,but it was all of no use--,nature would have her way--and in the middle of #agcf1 ,david ,hume1 aged twenty-three1 without a profession or any assured means of earning a guinea2 and having doubtless1 by his apparent vacillation1 but real tenacity of purpose1 once more earned the title of wake-minded at home2 betook himself to a foreign country4 ,i went over to ,france1 with a view of prosecuting my studies in a country retreat3 and there ,i laid that plan of life which ,i have steadily and successfully pursued4 ,i resolved to make a very rigid frugality supply my deficiency of fortune1 to maintain unimpaired my independency1 and to regard every object as contemptible except the improvement of my talents in literature4#d ,hume passed through ,paris on his way to ,rheims1 where he resided for some time2 though the greater part of his three years' stay was spent at ,la ,flche1 in frequent intercourse with the ,jesuits of the famous college in which ,descartes was educated4 ,here he composed his first work1 the ,treatise of ,human ,nature2 though it would appear from the following passage in the letter to ,cheyne1 that he had been accumulating materials to that end for some years before he left ,scotland4 ,i found that the moral philosophy transmitted to us by antiquity laboured under the same inconvenience that has been found in their natural philosophy1 of being entirely hypothetical1 and depending more upon invention than experience3 every one consulted his fancy in erecting schemes of virtue and happiness1 without regarding human nature1 upon which every moral conclusion must depend4 ,this is the key-note of the ,treatise2 of which ,hume himself says apologetically1 in one of his letters1 that it was planned before he was twenty-one and composed before he had reached the age of twenty-five4#e ,under these circumstances1 it is probably the most remarkable philosophical work1 both intrinsically and in its effects upon the course of thought1 that has ever been written4 ,berkeley1 indeed1 published the ,essay ,towards a ,new ,theory of ,vision1 the ,treatise ,concerning the ,principles of ,human ,knowledge1 and the ,three ,dialogues1 between the ages of twenty-four and twenty-eight2 and thus comes very near to ,hume1 both in precocity and in influence2 but his investigations are more limited in their scope than those of his ,scottish contemporary4 ,the first and second volumes of the ,treatise1 containing ,book ,i41 ,of the ,understanding1 and ,book ,,ii41 ,of the ,passions1 were published in ,january1 #agci4f ,the publisher gave fifty pounds for the copyright2 which is probably more than an unknown writer of twenty-seven years of age would get for a similar work1 at the present time4 ,but1 in other respects1 its success fell far short of ,hume's expectations4 ,in a letter dated the #ast of ,june1 #agci1 he writes1-- ,i am not much in the humour of such compositions at present1 having received news from ,london of the success of my ,philosophy1 which is but indifferent1 if ,i may judge by the sale of the book1 and if ,i may believe my bookseller4 ,this1 however1 indicates a very different reception from that which ,hume1 looking through the inverted telescope of old age1 ascribes to the ,treatise in ,my ,own ,life4 ,never literary attempt was more unfortunate than my ,treatise of ,human ,nature4 ,it fell deadborn from the press without reaching such a distinction as even to excite a murmur among the zealots4 ,as a matter of fact1 it was fully1 and1 on the whole1 respectfully and appreciatively1 reviewed in the ,history of the ,works of the ,learned for ,november1 #agci4g ,whoever the reviewer may have been1 he was a man of discernment1 for he says that the work bears incontestable marks of a great capacity1 of a soaring genius1 but young1 and not yet thoroughly practised2 and he adds1 that we shall probably have reason to consider this1 compared with the later productions1 in the same light as we view the juvenile works of a ,milton1 or the first manner of a ,raphael or other celebrated painter4 ,in a letter to ,hutcheson1 ,hume merely speaks of this article as somewhat abusive2 so that his vanity1 being young and callow1 seems to have been correspondingly wide-mouthed and hard to satiate4 ,it must be confessed that1 on this occasion1 no less than on that of his other publications1 ,hume exhibits no small share of the craving after mere notoriety and vulgar success1 as distinct from the pardonable1 if not honourable1 ambition for solid and enduring fame1 which would have harmonised better with his philosophy4 ,indeed1 it appears to be by no means improbable that this peculiarity of ,hume's moral constitution was the cause of his gradually forsaking philosophical studies1 after the publication of the third part 7,on ,morals7 of the ,treatise1 in #agdj1 and turning to those political and historical topics which were likely to yield1 and did in fact yield1 a much better return of that sort of success which his soul loved4 ,the ,philosophical ,essays ,concerning the ,human ,understanding1 which afterwards became the ,inquiry1 is not much more than an abridgment and recast1 for popular use1 of parts of the ,treatise1 with the addition of the essays on ,miracles and on ,necessity4 ,in style1 it exhibits a great improvement on the ,treatise2 but the substance1 if not deteriorated1 is certainly not improved4 ,hume does not really bring his mature powers to bear upon his early speculations1 in the later work4 ,the crude fruits have not been ripened1 but they have been ruthlessly pruned away1 along with the branches which bore them4 ,the result is a pretty shrub enough2 but not the tree of knowledge1 with its roots firmly fixed in fact1 its branches perennially budding forth into new truths1 which ,hume might have reared4 ,perhaps1 after all1 worthy ,mrs4 ,hume was1 in the highest sense1 right4 ,davie was wake-minded1 not to see that the world of philosophy was his to overrun and subdue1 if he would but persevere in the work he had begun4 ,but no--he must needs turn aside for success3 and verily he had his reward2 but not the crown he might have won4 ,in #agdj1 ,hume seems to have made an acquaintance which rapidly ripened into a life long friendship4 ,adam ,smith was1 at that time1 a boy student of seventeen at the ,university of ,glasgow2 and ,hume sends a copy of the ,treatise to ,mr4 ,smith1 apparently on the recommendation of the well-known ,hutcheson1 ,professor of ,moral ,philosophy in the university4 ,it is a remarkable evidence of ,adam ,smith's early intellectual development1 that a youth of his age should be thought worthy of such a present4 ,in #agda ,hume published anonymously1 at ,edinburgh1 the first volume of ,essays ,moral and ,political1 which was followed in #agdb by the second volume4 ,these pieces are written in an admirable style and1 though arranged without apparent method1 a system of political philosophy may be gathered from their contents4 ,thus the third essay1 ,that ,politics may be reduced to a ,science1 defends that thesis1 and dwells on the importance of forms of government4 ,so great is the force of laws and of particular forms of government1 and so little dependence have they on the humours and tempers of men1 that consequences almost as general and certain may sometimes be deduced from them as any which the mathematical sciences afford us4--7,,iii4 #ae47 7,see p4 #de47 ,hume proceeds to exemplify the evils which inevitably flow from universal suffrage1 from aristocratic privilege1 and from elective monarchy1 by historical examples1 and concludes3-- ,that an hereditary prince1 a nobility without vassals1 and a people voting by their representatives1 form the best monarchy1 aristocracy1 and democracy4--7,,iii4 #ah47 ,if we reflect that the following passage of the same essay was written nearly a century and a half ago1 it would seem that whatever other changes may have taken place1 political warfare remains in statu quo3-- ,those who either attack or defend a minister in such a government as ours1 where the utmost liberty is allowed1 always carry matters to an extreme1 and exaggerate his merit or demerit with regard to the public4 ,his enemies are sure to charge him with the greatest enormities1 both in domestic and foreign management2 and there is no meanness or crime1 of which1 in their judgment1 he is not capable4 ,unnecessary wars1 scandalous treaties1 profusion of public treasure1 oppressive taxes1 every kind of maladministration is ascribed to him4 ,to aggravate the charge1 his pernicious conduct1 it is said1 will extend its baneful influence even to posterity1 by undermining the best constitution in the world1 and disordering that wise system of laws1 institutions1 and customs1 by which our ancestors1 during so many centuries1 have been so happily governed4 ,he is not only a wicked minister in himself1 but has removed every security provided against wicked ministers for the future4 ,on the other hand1 the partisans of the minister make his panegyric rise as high as the accusation against him1 and celebrate his wise1 steady1 and moderate conduct in every part of his administration4 ,the honour and interest of the nation supported abroad1 public credit maintained at home1 persecution restrained1 faction subdued3 the merit of all these blessings is ascribed solely to the minister4 ,at the same time1 he crowns all his other merits by a religious care of the best government in the world1 which he has preserved in all its parts1 and has transmitted entire1 to be the happiness and security of the latest posterity4--7,,iii4 #bf47 ,hume sagely remarks that the panegyric and the accusation cannot both be true2 and1 that what truth there may be in either1 rather tends to show that our much-vaunted constitution does not fulfil its chief object1 which is to provide a remedy against maladministration4 ,and if it does not-- we are rather beholden to any minister who undermines it and affords us the opportunity of erecting a better in its place4--,,iii4 #bh4 ,the fifth ,essay discusses the ,origin of ,government3-- ,man1 born in a family1 is compelled to maintain society from necessity1 from natural inclination1 and from habit4 ,the same creature1 in his farther progress1 is engaged to establish political society1 in order to administer justice1 without which there can be no peace among them1 nor safety1 nor mutual intercourse4 ,we are therefore to look upon all the vast apparatus of our government1 as having ultimately no other object or purpose but the distribution of justice1 or1 in other words1 the support of the twelve judges4 ,kings and parliaments1 fleets and armies1 officers of the court and revenue1 ambassadors1 ministers and privy councillors1 are all subordinate in the end to this part of administration4 ,even the clergy1 as their duty leads them to inculcate morality1 may justly be thought1 so far as regards this world1 to have no other useful object of their institution4--7,,iii4 #cg47 ,the police theory of government has never been stated more tersely3 and1 if there were only one state in the world2 and if we could be certain by intuition1 or by the aid of revelation1 that it is wrong for society1 as a corporate body1 to do anything for the improvement of its members and1 thereby1 indirectly support the twelve judges1 no objection could be raised to it4 ,unfortunately the existence of rival or inimical nations furnishes kings and parliaments1 fleets and armies1 with a good deal of occupation beyond the support of the twelve judges2 and1 though the proposition that the ,state has no business to meddle with anything but the administration of justice1 seems sometimes to be regarded as an axiom1 it can hardly be said to be intuitively certain1 inasmuch as a great many people absolutely repudiate it2 while1 as yet1 the attempt to give it the authority of a revelation has not been made4 ,as ,hume says with profound truth in the fourth essay1 ,on the ,first ,principles of ,government3-- ,as force is always on the side of the governed1 the governors have nothing to support them but opinion4 ,it is1 therefore1 on opinion only that government is founded2 and this maxim extends to the most despotic and most military governments1 as well as to the most free and the most popular4--7,,iii4 #ca47 ,but if the whole fabric of social organisation rests on opinion1 it may surely be fairly argued that1 in the interests of self-preservation1 if for no better reason1 society has a right to see that the means of forming just opinions are placed within the reach of every one of its members2 and1 therefore1 that due provision for education1 at any rate1 is a right and1 indeed1 a duty1 of the state4 ,the three opinions upon which all government1 or the authority of the few over the many1 is founded1 says ,hume1 are public interest1 right to power1 and right to property4 ,no government can permanently exist1 unless the majority of the citizens1 who are the ultimate depositary of ,force1 are convinced that it serves the general interest1 that it has lawful authority1 and that it respects individual rights3-- ,a government may endure for several ages1 though the balance of power and the balance of property do not coincide4444 ,but where the original constitution allows any share of power1 though small1 to an order of men who possess a large share of property1 it is easy for them gradually to stretch their authority1 and bring the balance of power to coincide with that of property4 ,this has been the case with the ,house of ,commons in ,england4--7,,iii4 #cd47 ,hume then points out that1 in his time1 the authority of the ,commons was by no means equivalent to the property and power it represented1 and proceeds3-- ,were the members obliged to receive instructions from their constituents1 like the ,dutch deputies1 this would entirely alter the case2 and if such immense power and riches as those of all the ,commons of ,great ,britain1 were brought into the scale1 it is not easy to conceive that the crown could either influence that multitude of people1 or withstand that balance of property4 ,it is true1 the crown has great influence over the collective body in the elections of members2 but were this influence1 which at present is only exerted once in seven years1 to be employed in bringing over the people to every vote1 it would soon be wasted1 and no skill1 popularity1 or revenue could support it4 ,i must1 therefore1 be of opinion that an alteration in this particular would introduce a total alteration in our government1 would soon reduce it to a pure republic2 and1 perhaps1 to a republic of no inconvenient form4--7,,iii4 #ce47 ,viewed by the light of subsequent events1 this is surely a very remarkable example of political sagacity4 ,the members of the ,house of ,commons are not yet delegates2 but1 with the widening of the suffrage and the rapidly increasing tendency to drill and organise the electorate1 and to exact definite pledges from candidates1 they are rapidly becoming1 if not delegates1 at least attorneys for committees of electors4 ,the same causes are constantly tending to exclude men1 who combine a keen sense of self-respect with large intellectual capacity1 from a position in which the one is as constantly offended1 as the other is neutralised4 ,notwithstanding the attempt of ,george the ,third to resuscitate the royal authority1 ,hume's foresight has been so completely justified that no one now dreams of the crown exerting the slightest influence upon elections4 ,in the seventh essay1 ,hume raises a very interesting discussion as to the probable ultimate result of the forces which were at work in the ,british ,constitution in the first part of the eighteenth century3-- ,there has been a sudden and sensible change in the opinions of men1 within these last fifty years1 by the progress of learning and of liberty4 ,most people in this island have divested themselves of all superstitious reverence to names and authority2 the clergy have much lost their credit2 their pretensions and doctrines have been much ridiculed2 and even religion can scarcely support itself in the world4 ,the mere name of king commands little respect2 and to talk of a king as ,god's vicegerent on earth1 or to give him any of those magnificent titles which formerly dazzled mankind1 would but excite laughter in every one4--7,,iii4 #ed47 ,in fact1 at the present day1 the danger to monarchy in ,britain would appear to lie1 not in increasing love for equality1 for which1 except as regards the law1 ,englishmen have never cared1 but rather entertain an aversion2 nor in any abstract democratic theories1 upon which the mass of ,englishmen pour the contempt with which they view theories in general2 but in the constantly increasing tendency of monarchy to become slightly absurd1 from the ever-widening discrepancy between modern political ideas and the theory of kingship4 ,as ,hume observes1 even in his time1 people had left off making believe that a king was a different species of man from1 other men2 and1 since his day1 more and more such make-believes have become impossible2 until the maintenance of kingship in coming generations seems likely to depend1 entirely1 upon whether it is the general opinion1 that a hereditary president of our virtual republic will serve the general interest better than an elective one or not4 ,the tendency of public feeling in this direction is patent1 but it does not follow that a republic is to be the final stage of our government4 ,in fact1 ,hume thinks not3-- ,it is well known1 that every government must come to a period1 and that death is unavoidable to the political1 as well as to the animal body4 ,but1 as one kind of death may be preferable to another1 it may be inquired1 whether it be more desirable for the ,british constitution to terminate in a popular government1 or in an absolute monarchy8 ,here1 ,i would frankly declare1 that though liberty be preferable to slavery1 in almost every case2 yet ,i should rather wish to see an absolute monarch than a republic in this island4 ,for let us consider what kind of republic we have reason to expect4 ,the question is not concerning any fine imaginary republic of which a man forms a plan in his closet4 ,there is no doubt but a popular government may be imagined more perfect than an absolute monarchy1 or even than our present constitution4 ,but what reason have we to expect that any such government will ever be established in ,great ,britain1 upon the dissolution of our monarchy8 ,if any single person acquire power enough to take our constitution to pieces1 and put it up anew1 he is really an absolute monarch2 and we have already had an instance of this kind1 sufficient to convince us1 that such a person will never resign his power1 or establish any free government4 ,matters1 therefore1 must be trusted to their natural progress and operation2 and the ,house of ,commons1 according to its present constitution1 must be the only legislature in such a popular government4 ,the inconveniences attending such a situation of affairs present themselves by thousands4 ,if the ,house of ,commons1 in such a case1 ever dissolve itself1 which is not to be expected1 we may look for a civil war every election4 ,if it continue itself1 we shall suffer all the tyranny of a faction subdivided into new factions4 ,and1 as such a violent government cannot long subsist1 we shall at last1 after many convulsions and civil wars1 find repose in absolute monarchy1 which it would have been happier for us to have established peaceably from the beginning4 ,absolute monarchy1 therefore1 is the easiest death1 the true ,euthanasia of the ,british constitution4 ,thus if we have more reason to be jealous of monarchy1 because the danger is more imminent from that quarter2 we have also reason to be more jealous of popular government1 because that danger is more terrible4 ,this may teach us a lesson of moderation in all our political controversies4--7,,iii4 #ee47 ,one may admire the sagacity of these speculations1 and the force and clearness with which they are expressed1 without altogether agreeing with them4 ,that an analogy between the social and bodily organism exists1 and is1 in many respects1 clear and full of instructive suggestion1 is undeniable4 ,yet a state answers1 not to an individual1 but to a generic type2 and there is no reason1 in the nature of things1 why any generic type should die out4 ,the type of the pearly ,nautilus1 highly organised as it is1 has persisted with but little change from the ,silurian epoch till now2 and1 so long as terrestrial conditions remain approximately similar to what they are at present1 there is no more reason why it should cease to exist in the next1 than in the past1 hundred million years or so4 ,the true ground for doubting the possibility of the establishment of absolute monarchy in ,britain is1 that opinion seems to have passed through1 and left far behind1 the stage at which such a change would be possible2 and the true reason for doubting the permanency of a republic1 if it is ever established1 lies in the fact1 that a republic requires for its maintenance a far higher standard of morality and of intelligence in the members of the state than any other form of government4 ,samuel gave the ,israelites a king because they were not righteous enough to do without one1 with a pretty plain warning of what they were to expect from the gift4 ,and1 up to this time1 the progress of such republics as have been established in the world has not been such1 as to lead to any confident expectation that their foundation is laid on a sufficiently secure subsoil of public spirit1 morality1 and intelligence4 ,on the contrary1 they exhibit examples of personal corruption and of political profligacy as fine as any hotbed of despotism has ever produced2 while they fail in the primary duty of the administration of justice1 as none but an effete despotism has ever failed4 ,hume has been accused of departing1 in his old age1 from the liberal principles of his youth2 and1 no doubt1 he was careful1 in the later editions of the ,essays1 to expunge everything that savoured of democratic tendencies4 ,but the passage just quoted shows that this was no recantation1 but simply a confirmation1 by his experience of one of the most debased periods of ,english history1 of those evil tendencies attendant on popular government1 of which1 from the first1 he was fully aware4 ,in the ninth essay1 ,on the ,parties of ,great ,britain1 there occurs a passage which1 while it affords evidence of the marvellous change which has taken place in the social condition of ,scotland since #agda1 contains an assertion respecting the state of the ,jacobite party at that time1 which at first seems surprising3-- ,as violent things have not commonly so long a duration as moderate1 we actually find that the ,jacobite party is almost entirely vanished from among us1 and that the distinction of ,court and ,country1 which is but creeping in at ,london1 is the only one that is ever mentioned in this kingdom4 ,beside the violence and openness of the ,jacobite party1 another reason has perhaps contributed to produce so sudden and so visible an alteration in this part of ,britain4 ,there are only two ranks of men among us2 gentlemen who have some fortune and education1 and the meanest slaving poor2 without any considerable number of that middling rank of men1 which abound more in ,england1 both in cities and in the country1 than in any other part of the world4 ,the slaving poor are incapable of any principles2 gentlemen may be converted to true principles1 by time and experience4 ,the middling rank of men have curiosity and knowledge enough to form principles1 but not enough to form true ones1 or correct any prejudices that they may have imbibed4 ,and it is among the middling rank of people that ,tory principles do at present prevail most in ,england4--7,,iii4 #hj1 note47 ,considering that the ,jacobite rebellion of #agde broke out only four years after this essay was published1 the assertion that the ,jacobite party had almost entirely vanished in #agda sounds strange enough3 and the passage which contains it is omitted in the third edition of the ,essays1 published in #agdh4 ,nevertheless1 ,hume was probably right1 as the outbreak of '#de was little better than a ,highland raid1 and the ,pretender obtained no important following in the ,lowlands4 ,no less curious1 in comparison with what would be said nowadays1 is ,hume's remark in the ,essay on the ,rise of the ,arts and ,sciences that-- ,the ,english are become sensible of the scandalous licentiousness of their stage from the example of the ,french decency and morals4--7,,iii4 #ace47 ,and it is perhaps as surprising to be told1 by a man of ,hume's literary power1 that the first polite prose in the ,english language was written by ,swift4 ,locke and ,temple 7with whom ,sprat is astoundingly conjoined7 knew too little of the rules of art to be esteemed elegant writers1 and the prose of ,bacon1 ,harrington1 and ,milton is altogether stiff and pedantic4 ,hobbes1 who whether he should be called a polite writer or not1 is a master of vigorous ,english2 ,clarendon1 ,addison1 and ,steele 7the last two1 surely1 were polite writers in all conscience7 are not mentioned4 ,on the subject of ,national ,character1 about which more nonsense1 and often very mischievous nonsense1 has been and is talked than upon any other topic1 ,hume's observations are full of sense and shrewdness4 ,he distinguishes between the moral and the physical causes of national character1 enumerating under the former-- ,the nature of the government1 the revolutions of public affairs1 the plenty or penury in which people live1 the situation of the nation with regard to its neighbours1 and such like circumstances4--7,,iii4 #bbe47 and under the latter3-- ,those qualities of the air and climate1 which are supposed to work insensibly on the temper1 by altering the tone and habit of the body1 and giving a particular complexion1 which1 though reflexion and reason may sometimes overcome it1 will yet prevail among the generality of mankind1 and have an influence on their manners4--7,,iii4 #bbe47 ,while admitting and exemplifying the great influence of moral causes1 ,hume remarks-- ,as to physical causes1 ,i am inclined to doubt altogether of their operation in this particular2 nor do ,i think that men owe anything of their temper or genius to the air1 food1 or climate4--7,,iii4 #bbg47 ,hume certainly would not have accepted the rice theory in explanation of the social state of the ,hindoos2 and1 it may be safely assumed1 that he would not have had recourse to the circumambience of the melancholy main to account for the troublous history of ,ireland4 ,he supports his views by a variety of strong arguments1 among which1 at the present conjuncture1 it is worth noting that the following occurs-- ,where any accident1 as a difference in language or religion1 keeps two nations1 inhabiting the same country1 from mixing with one another1 they will preserve during several centuries a distinct and even opposite set of manners4 ,the integrity1 gravity1 and bravery of the ,turks1 form an exact contrast to the deceit1 levity1 and cowardice of the modern ,greeks4--7,,iii4 #bcc47 ,the question of the influence of race1 which plays so great a part in modern political speculations1 was hardly broached in ,hume's time1 but he had an inkling of its importance3-- ,i am apt to suspect the ,negroes to be naturally inferior to the ,whites4 ,there scarcely ever was a civilised nation of that complexion1 nor even any individual1 eminent either in action or speculation4444 ,such a uniform and constant difference between the negroes and the whites could not happen in so many countries and ages1 if nature had not made an original distinction between these breeds of men4444 ,in ,jamaica1 indeed1 they talk of one ,negro as a man of parts and learning2 but it is likely he is admired for slender accomplishments1 like a parrot who speaks a few words plainly4--7,,iii4 #bcf47 ,the ,essays met with the success they deserved4 ,hume wrote to ,henry ,home in ,june1 #agdb3-- ,the ,essays are all sold in ,london1 as ,i am informed by two letters from ,english gentlemen of my acquaintance4 ,there is a demand for them2 and1 as one of them tells me1 ,innys1 the great bookseller in ,paul's ,churchyard1 wonders there is not a new edition1 for he cannot find copies for his customers4 ,i am also told that ,dr4 ,butler has everywhere recommended them2 so that ,i hope that they will have some success4 ,hume had sent ,butler a copy of the ,treatise and had called upon him1 in ,london1 but he was out of town2 and being shortly afterwards made ,bishop of ,bristol1 ,hume seems to have thought that further advances on his part might not be well received4 ,greatly comforted by this measure of success1 ,hume remained at ,ninewells1 rubbing up his ,greek1 until #agde2 when1 at the mature age of thirty-four1 he made his entry into practical life1 by becoming bear-leader to the ,marquis of ,annandale1 a young nobleman of feeble body and feebler mind4 ,as might have been predicted1 this venture was not more fortunate than his previous ones2 and1 after a year's endurance1 diversified latterly with pecuniary squabbles1 in which ,hume's tenacity about a somewhat small claim is remarkable1 the engagement came to an end4 ,,footnotes3 #a ,a picture of the house1 taken from ,drummond's ,history of ,noble ,british ,families1 is to be seen in ,chambers's ,book of ,days 7,april #bfth72 and if1 as ,drummond says1 ,it is a favourable specimen of the best ,scotch lairds' houses1 all that can be said is worst ,scotch lairds must have been poorly lodged indeed4 #b ,mr4 ,john ,hill ,burton1 in his valuable ,life of ,hume1 on which1 ,i need hardly say1 ,i have drawn freely for the materials of the present biographical sketch4 #c ,one cannot but be reminded of young ,descartes' renunciation of study for soldiering4 #d ,my ,own ,life4 #e ,letter to ,gilbert ,elliot of ,minto1 #agea4 ,so vast an undertaking1 planned before ,i was one-and-twenty1 and composed before twenty-five1 must necessarily be very defective4 ,i have repented my haste a hundred and a hundred times4 #f ,so says ,mr4 ,burton1 and that he is right is proved by a letter of ,hume's1 dated ,february #ac1 #agci1 in which he writes1 ',tis now a fortnight since my book was published4 ,but it is a curious illustration of the value of testimony1 that ,hume1 in ,my ,own ,life1 states3 ,in the end of #agch ,i published my ,treatise1 and immediately went down to my mother and my brother4 #g ,burton1 ,life1 vol4 i4 p4 #aji4 ,,chapter ,,ii4 ,,later ,,years3 ,,the ,,history ,,of ,,england4 ,in #agdd1 ,hume's friends had endeavoured to procure his nomination to the ,chair of ,ethics and pneumatic philosophy#h in the ,university of ,edinburgh4 ,about this matter he writes to his friend ,william ,mure3-- ,the accusation of heresy1 deism1 scepticism1 atheism1 c41 c41 c4 was started against me2 but never took1 being bore down by the contrary authority of all the good company in town4 ,if the good company in town bore down the first three of these charges1 it is to be hoped1 for the sake of their veracity1 that they knew their candidate chiefly as the very good company that he always was2 and had paid as little attention1 as good company usually does1 to so solid a work as the ,treatise4 ,hume expresses a nave surprise1 not unmixed with indignation1 that ,hutcheson and ,leechman1 both clergymen and sincere1 though liberal1 professors of orthodoxy1 should have expressed doubts as to his fitness for becoming a professedly presbyterian teacher of presbyterian youth4 ,the town council1 however1 would not have him1 and filled up the place with a safe nobody4 ,in ,may1 #agdf1 a new prospect opened4 ,general ,st4 ,clair was appointed to the command of an expedition to ,canada1 and he invited ,hume1 at a week's notice1 to be his secretary2 to which office that of judge advocate was afterwards added4 ,hume writes to a friend3 ,the office is very genteel1 #ajs4 a day1 perquisites1 and no expenses2 and1 to another1 he speculates on the chance of procuring a company in an ,american regiment4 ,but this ,i build not on1 nor indeed am ,i very fond of it1 he adds2 and this was fortunate1 for the expedition1 after dawdling away the summer in port1 was suddenly diverted to an attack on ,l',orient1 where it achieved a huge failure and returned ignominiously to ,england4 ,a letter to ,henry ,home1 written when this unlucky expedition was recalled1 shows that ,hume had already seriously turned his attention to history4 ,referring to an invitation to go over to ,flanders with the ,general1 he says3 ,had ,i any fortune which would give me a prospect of leisure and opportunity to prosecute my historical projects1 nothing could be more useful to me1 and ,i should pick up more literary knowledge in one campaign by being in the ,general's family1 and being introduced frequently to the ,duke's1 than most officers could do after many years' service4 ,but to what can all this serve8 ,i am a philosopher1 and so ,i suppose must continue4 ,but this vaticination was shortly to prove erroneous4 ,hume seems to have made a very favourable impression on ,general ,st4 ,clair1 as he did upon every one with whom he came into personal contact2 for1 being charged with a mission to the court of ,turin1 in #agdh1 the ,general insisted upon the appointment of ,hume as his secretary4 ,he further made him one of his aides-de-camp2 so that the philosopher was obliged to encase his more than portly1 and by no means elegant1 figure in a military uniform4 ,lord ,charlemont1 who met him at ,turin1 says he was disguised in scarlet1 and that he wore his uniform like a grocer of the train-bands4 ,hume1 always ready for a joke at his own expense1 tells of the considerate kindness with which1 at a reception at ,vienna1 the ,empress-dowager released him and his friends from the necessity of walking backwards4 ,we esteemed ourselves very much obliged to her for this attention1 especially my companions1 who were desperately afraid of my falling on them and crushing them4 ,notwithstanding the many attractions of this appointment1 ,hume writes that he leaves home with infinite regret1 where ,i had treasured up stores of study and plans of thinking for many years2 and his only consolation is that the opportunity of becoming conversant with state affairs may be profitable3-- ,i shall have an opportunity of seeing courts and camps3 and if ,i can afterward be so happy as to attain leisure and other opportunities1 this knowledge may even turn to account to me as a man of letters1 which ,i confess has always been the sole object of my ambition4 ,i have long had an intention1 in my riper years1 of composing some history2 and ,i question not but some greater experience in the operations of the field and the intrigues of the cabinet will be requisite1 in order to enable me to speak with judgment on these subjects4 ,hume returned to ,london in #agdi1 and1 during his stay there1 his mother died1 to his heartfelt sorrow4 ,a curious story in connection with this event is told by ,dr4 ,carlyle1 who knew ,hume well1 and whose authority is perfectly trustworthy4 ,mr4 ,boyle hearing of it1 soon after went to his apartment1 for they lodged in the same house1 where he found him in the deepest affliction and in a flood of tears4 ,after the usual topics and condolences ,mr4 ,boyle said to him1 ',my friend1 you owe this uncommon grief to having thrown off the principles of religion3 for if you had not1 you would have been consoled with the firm belief that the good lady1 who was not only the best of mothers1 but the most pious of ,christians1 was completely happy in the realms of the just4 ,to which ,david replied1 ',though ,i throw out my speculations to entertain the learned and metaphysical world1 yet in other things ,i do not think so differently from the rest of the world as you imagine4' ,if ,hume had told this story to ,dr4 ,carlyle1 the latter would have said so2 it must therefore have come from ,mr4 ,boyle2 and one would like to have the opportunity of cross-examining that gentleman as to ,hume's exact words and their context1 before implicitly accepting his version of the conversation4 ,mr4 ,boyle's experience of mankind must have been small1 if he had not seen the firmest of believers overwhelmed with grief by a like loss1 and as completely inconsolable4 ,hume may have thrown off ,mr4 ,boyle's principles of religion1 but he was none the less a very honest man1 perfectly open and candid1 and the last person to use ambiguous phraseology1 among his friends2 unless1 indeed1 he saw no other way of putting a stop to the intrusion of unmannerly twaddle amongst the bitter-sweet memories stirred in his affectionate nature by so heavy a blow4 ,the ,philosophical ,essays or ,inquiry was published in #agdh1 while ,hume was away with ,general ,st4 ,clair1 and1 on his return to ,england1 he had the mortification to find it overlooked in the hubbub caused by ,middleton's ,free ,inquiry1 and its bold handling of the topic of the ,essay on ,miracles1 by which ,hume doubtless expected the public to be startled4 ,between #agdi and #agea1 ,hume resided at ,ninewells1 with his brother and sister1 and busied himself with the composition of his most finished1 if not his most important works1 the ,dialogues on ,natural ,religion1 the ,inquiry ,concerning the ,principles of ,morals1 and the ,political ,discourses4 ,the ,dialogues on ,natural ,religion were touched and re-touched1 at intervals1 for a quarter of a century1 and were not published till after ,hume's death3 but the ,inquiry ,concerning the ,principles of ,morals appeared in #agea1 and the ,political ,discourses in #ageb4 ,full reference will be made to the two former in the exposition of ,hume's philosophical views4 ,the last has been well said to be the cradle of political economy3 and much as that science has been investigated and expounded in later times1 these earliest1 shortest1 and simplest developments of its principles are still read with delight even by those who are masters of all the literature of this great subject4#i ,the ,wealth of ,nations1 the masterpiece of ,hume's close friend1 ,adam ,smith1 it must be remembered1 did not appear before #aggf1 so that1 in political economy1 no less than in philosophy1 ,hume was an original1 a daring1 and a fertile innovator4 ,the ,political ,essays had a great and rapid success2 translated into ,french in #agec1 and again in #aged1 they conferred a ,european reputation upon their author2 and1 what was more to the purpose1 influenced the later ,french school of economists of the eighteenth century4 ,by this time1 ,hume had not only attained a high reputation in the world of letters1 but he considered himself a man of independent fortune4 ,his frugal habits had enabled him to accumulate #a1jjj1 and he tells ,michael ,ramsay in #agea3-- ,while interest remains as at present1 ,i have #ej a year1 a hundred pounds worth of books1 great store of linens and fine clothes1 and near #ajj in my pocket2 along with order1 frugality1 a strong spirit of independency1 good health1 a contented humour1 and an unabated love of study4 ,in these circumstances ,i must esteem myself one of the happy and fortunate2 and so far from being willing to draw my ticket over again in the lottery of life1 there are very few prizes with which ,i would make an exchange4 ,after some deliberation1 ,i am resolved to settle in ,edinburgh1 and hope ,i shall be able with these revenues to say with ,horace3-- ',est bona librorum et provis frugis in annum ,copia4' ,it would be difficult to find a better example of the honourable independence and cheerful self-reliance which should distinguish a man of letters1 and which characterised ,hume throughout his career4 ,by honourable effort1 the boy's noble ideal of life1 became the man's reality2 and1 at forty1 ,hume had the happiness of finding that he had not wasted his youth in the pursuit of illusions1 but that the solid certainty of waking bliss lay before him1 in the free play of his powers in their appropriate sphere4 ,in #agea1 ,hume removed to ,edinburgh and took up his abode on a flat in one of those prodigious houses in the ,lawnmarket1 which still excite the admiration of tourists2 afterwards moving to a house in the ,canongate4 ,his sister joined him1 adding #cj a year to the common stock2 and1 in one of his charmingly playful letters to ,dr4 ,clephane1 he thus describes his establishment1 in #agec4 ,i shall exult and triumph to you a little that ,i have now at last--being turned of forty1 to my own honour1 to that of learning1 and to that of the present age--arrived at the dignity of being a householder4 ,about seven months ago1 ,i got a house of my own1 and completed a regular family1 consisting of a head1 viz41 myself1 and two inferior members1 a maid and a cat4 ,my sister has since joined me1 and keeps me company4 ,with frugality1 ,i can reach1 ,i find1 cleanliness1 warmth1 light1 plenty1 and contentment4 ,what would you have more8 ,independence8 ,i have it in a supreme degree4 ,honour8 ,that is not altogether wanting4 ,grace8 ,that will come in time4 ,a wife8 ,that is none of the indispensable requisites of life4 ,books8 ,that is one of them2 and ,i have more than ,i can use4 ,in short1 ,i cannot find any pleasure of consequence which ,i am not possessed of in a greater or less degree2 and1 without any great effort of philosophy1 ,i may be easy and satisfied4 ,as there is no happiness without occupation1 ,i have begun a work which will occupy me several years1 and which yields me much satisfaction4 ',tis a ,history of ,britain from the ,union of the ,crowns to the present time4 ,i have already finished the reign of ,king ,james4 ,my friends flatter me 7by this ,i mean that they don't flatter me7 that ,i have succeeded4 ,in #ageb1 the ,faculty of ,advocates elected ,hume their librarian1 an office which1 though it yielded little emolument--the salary was only forty pounds a year--was valuable as it placed the resources of a large library at his disposal4 ,the proposal to give ,hume even this paltry place caused a great outcry1 on the old score of infidelity4 ,but as ,hume writes1 in a jubilant letter to ,clephane 7,february #d1 #ageb73-- ,i carried the election by a considerable majority4444 ,what is more extraordinary1 the cry of religion could not hinder the ladies from being violently my partisans1 and ,i owe my success in a great measure to their solicitations4 ,one has broke off all commerce with her lover because he voted against me6 ,and ,mr4 ,lockhart1 in a speech to the ,faculty1 said there was no walking the streets1 nor even enjoying one's own fireside1 on account of their importunate zeal4 ,the town says that even his bed was not safe for him1 though his wife was cousin-german to my antagonist4 ',twas vulgarly given out that the contest was between ,deists and ,christians1 and when the news of my success came to the playhouse1 the whisper rose that the ,christians were defeated4 ,are you not surprised that we could keep our popularity1 notwithstanding this imputation1 which my friends could not deny to be well founded8 ,it would seem that the good company was less enterprising in its asseverations in this canvass than in the last4 ,the first volume of the ,history of ,great ,britain1 containing the reign of ,james ,i4 and ,charles ,i41 was published in #aged4 ,at first1 the sale was large1 especially in ,edinburgh1 and if notoriety per se was ,hume's object1 he attained it4 ,but he liked applause as well as fame and1 to his bitter disappointment1 he says3-- ,i was assailed by one cry of reproach1 disapprobation1 and even detestation3 ,english1 ,scotch1 and ,irish1 ,whig and ,tory1 ,churchman and ,sectary1 ,freethinker and ,religionist1 ,patriot and ,courtier1 united in their rage against the man who had presumed to shed a generous tear for the fate of ,charles ,i4 and the ,earl of ,strafford2 and after the first ebullitions of their fury were over1 what was still more mortifying1 the book seemed to fall into oblivion4 ,mr4 ,millar told me that in a twelvemonth he sold only forty-five copies of it4 ,i scarcely1 indeed1 heard of one man in the three kingdoms1 considerable for rank or letters1 that could endure the book4 ,i must only except the primate of ,england1 ,dr4 ,herring1 and the primate of ,ireland1 ,dr4 ,stone1 which seem two odd exceptions4 ,these dignified prelates separately sent me messages not to be discouraged4 ,it certainly is odd to think of ,david ,hume being comforted in his affliction by the independent and spontaneous sympathy of a pair of archbishops4 ,but the instincts of the dignified prelates guided them rightly2 for1 as the great painter of ,english history in ,whig pigments has been careful to point out1#aj ,hume's historical picture1 though a great work1 drawn by a master hand1 has all the lights ,tory1 and all the shades ,whig4 ,hume's ecclesiastical enemies seem to have thought that their opportunity had now arrived2 and an attempt was made to get the ,general ,assembly of #agef to appoint a committee to inquire into his writings4 ,but1 after a keen debate1 the proposal was rejected by fifty votes to seventeen4 ,hume does not appear to have troubled himself about the matter1 and does not even think it worth mention in ,my ,own ,life4 ,in #agef he tells ,clephane that he is worth #a1fjj sterling1 and consequently master of an income which must have been wealth to a man of his frugal habits4 ,in the same year1 he published the second volume of the ,history1 which met with a much better reception than the first2 and1 in #ageg1 one of his most remarkable works1 the ,natural ,history of ,religion1 appeared4 ,in the same year1 he resigned his office of librarian to the ,faculty of ,advocates1 and he projected removal to ,london1 probably to superintend the publication of the additional volume of the ,history4 ,i shall certainly be in ,london next summer2 and probably to remain there during life3 at least1 if ,i can settle myself to my mind1 which ,i beg you to have an eye to4 ,a room in a sober discreet family1 who would not be averse to admit a sober1 discreet1 virtuous1 regular1 quiet1 goodnatured man of a bad character--such a room1 ,i say1 would suit me extremely4#aa ,the promised visit took place in the latter part of the year #ageh1 and he remained in the metropolis for the greater part of #agei4 ,the two volumes of the ,history of ,england under the ,house of ,tudor were published in ,london1 shortly after ,hume's return to ,edinburgh2 and1 according to his own account1 they raised almost as great a clamour as the first two had done4 ,busily occupied with the continuation of his historical labours1 ,hume remained in ,edinburgh until #agfc2 when1 at the request of ,lord ,hertford1 who was going as ambassador to ,france1 he was appointed to the embassy2 with the promise of the secretaryship1 and1 in the meanwhile1 performing the duties of that office4 ,at first1 ,hume declined the offer2 but1 as it was particularly honourable to so well abused a man1 on account of ,lord ,hertford's high reputation for virtue and piety1#ab and no less advantageous by reason of the increase of fortune which it secured to him1 he eventually accepted it4 ,in ,france1 ,hume's reputation stood far higher than in ,britain2 several of his works had been translated2 he had exchanged letters with ,montesquieu and with ,helvetius2 ,rousseau had appealed to him2 and the charming ,madame de ,boufflers had drawn him into a correspondence1 marked by almost passionate enthusiasm on her part1 and as fair an imitation of enthusiasm as ,hume was capable of1 on his4 ,in the extraordinary mixture of learning1 wit1 humanity1 frivolity1 and profligacy which then characterised the highest ,french society1 a new sensation was worth anything1 and it mattered little whether the cause thereof was a philosopher or a poodle2 so ,hume had a great success in the ,parisian world4 ,great nobles fted him1 and great ladies were not content unless the gros ,david was to be seen at their receptions1 and in their boxes at the theatre4 ,at the opera his broad unmeaning face was usually to be seen entre deux jolis minois1 says ,lord ,charlemont4#ac ,hume's cool head was by no means turned2 but he took the goods the gods provided with much satisfaction2 and everywhere won golden opinions by his unaffected good sense and thorough kindness of heart4 ,over all this part of ,hume's career1 as over the surprising episode of the quarrel with ,rousseau1 if that can be called quarrel which was lunatic malignity on ,rousseau's side and thorough generosity and patience on ,hume's1 ,i may pass lightly4 ,the story is admirably told by ,mr4 ,burton1 to whose volumes ,i refer the reader4 ,nor need ,i dwell upon ,hume's short tenure of office in ,london1 as ,under-,secretary of ,state1 between #agfg and #agfi4 ,success and wealth are rarely interesting1 and ,hume's case is no exception to the rule4 ,according to his own description the cares of official life were not overwhelming4 ,my way of life here is very uniform and by no means disagreeable4 ,i have all the forenoon in the ,secretary's house1 from ten till three1 when there arrive from time to time messengers that bring me all the secrets of the kingdom1 and1 indeed1 of ,europe1 ,asia1 ,africa1 and ,america4 ,i am seldom hurried2 but have leisure at intervals to take up a book1 or write a private letter1 or converse with a friend that may call for me2 and from dinner to bed-time is all my own4 ,if you add to this that the person with whom ,i have the chief1 if not only1 transactions1 is the most reasonable1 equal-tempered1 and gentleman-like man imaginable1 and ,lady ,aylesbury the same1 you will certainly think ,i have no reason to complain2 and ,i am far from complaining4 ,i only shall not regret when my duty is over2 because to me the situation can lead to nothing1 at least in all probability2 and reading1 and sauntering1 and lounging1 and dozing1 which ,i call thinking1 is my supreme happiness--,i mean my full contentment4 ,hume's duty was soon over1 and he returned to ,edinburgh in #agfi1 very opulent in the possession of #a1jjj a year1 and determined to take what remained to him of life pleasantly and easily4 ,in ,october1 #agfi1 he writes to ,elliot3-- ,i have been settled here two months1 and am here body and soul1 without casting the least thought of regret to ,london1 or even to ,paris4444 ,i live still1 and must for a twelvemonth1 in my old house in ,james's ,court1 which is very cheerful and even elegant1 but too small to display my great talent for cookery1 the science to which ,i intend to addict the remaining years of my life4 ,i have just now lying on the table before me a receipt for making soupe la reine1 copied with my own hand2 for beef and cabbage 7a charming dish7 and old mutton and old claret nobody excels me4 ,i make also sheep's-head broth in a manner that ,mr4 ,keith speaks of for eight days after2 and the ,duc de ,nivernois would bind himself apprentice to my lass to learn it4 ,i have already sent a challenge to ,david ,moncreiff3 you will see that in a twelvemonth he will take to the writing of history1 the field ,i have deserted2 for as to the giving of dinners1 he can now have no further pretensions4 ,i should have made a very bad use of my abode in ,paris if ,i could not get the better of a mere provincial like him4 ,all my friends encourage me in this ambition2 as thinking it will redound very much to my honour4 ,in #aggj1 ,hume built himself a house in the new town of ,edinburgh1 which was then springing up4 ,it was the first house in the street1 and a frolicsome young lady chalked upon the wall ,st4 ,david's ,street4 ,hume's servant complained to her master1 who replied1 ,never mind1 lassie1 many a better man has been made a saint of before1 and the street retains its title to this day4 ,in the following six years1 the house in ,st4 ,david's ,street was the centre of the accomplished and refined society which then distinguished ,edinburgh4 ,adam ,smith1 ,blair1 and ,ferguson were within easy reach2 and what remains of ,hume's correspondence with ,sir ,gilbert ,elliot1 ,colonel ,edmonstone1 and ,mrs4 ,cockburn gives pleasant glimpses of his social surroundings1 and enables us to understand his contentment with his absence from the more perturbed1 if more brilliant1 worlds of ,paris and ,london4 ,towards ,london1 ,londoners1 and indeed ,englishmen in general1 ,hume entertained a dislike1 mingled with contempt1 which was as nearly rancorous as any emotion of his could be4 ,during his residence in ,paris1 in #agfd and #agfe1 he writes to ,blair3-- ,the taste for literature is neither decayed nor depraved here1 as with the barbarians who inhabit the banks of the ,thames4 ,and he speaks of the general regard paid to genius and learning in ,france as one of the points in which it most differs from ,england4 ,ten years later1 he cannot even thank ,gibbon for his ,history without the left-handed compliment1 that he should never have expected such an excellent work from the pen of an ,englishman4 ,early in #agfe1 ,hume writes to ,millar3-- ,the rage and prejudice of parties frighten me1 and above all1 this rage against the ,scots1 which is so dishonourable1 and indeed so infamous1 to the ,english nation4 ,we hear that it increases every day without the least appearance of provocation on our part4 ,it has frequently made me resolve never in my life to set foot on ,english ground4 ,i dread1 if ,i should undertake a more modern history1 the impertinence and ill-manners to which it would expose me2 and ,i was willing to know from you whether former prejudices had so far subsided as to ensure me of a good reception4 ,his fears were kindly appeased by ,millar's assurance that the ,english were not prejudiced against the ,scots in general1 but against the particular ,scot1 ,lord ,bute1 who was supposed to be the guide1 philosopher1 and friend1 of both ,dowager ,queen and ,king4 ,to care nothing about literature1 to dislike ,scotchmen1 and to be insensible to the merits of ,david ,hume1 was a combination of iniquities on the part of the ,english nation1 which would have been amply sufficient to ruffle the temper of the philosophic historian1 who1 without being foolishly vain1 had certainly no need of what has been said to be the one form of prayer in which his countrymen1 torn as they are by theological differences1 agree2 ,lord6 gie us a gude conceit o' oursels4 ,but when1 to all this1 these same ,southrons added a passionate admiration for ,lord ,chatham1 who was in ,hume's eyes a charlatan2 and filled up the cup of their abominations by cheering for ,wilkes and ,liberty1 ,hume's wrath knew no bounds1 and1 between #agfh and #aggj1 he pours a perfect ,jeremiad into the bosom of his friend ,sir ,gilbert ,elliot4 ,oh6 how ,i long to see ,america and the ,east ,indies revolted1 totally and finally--the revenue reduced to half--public credit fully discredited by bankruptcy--the third of ,london in ruins1 and the rascally mob subdued6 ,i think ,i am not too old to despair of being witness to all these blessings4 ,i am delighted to see the daily and hourly progress of madness and folly and wickedness in ,england4 ,the consummation of these qualities are the true ingredients for making a fine narrative in history1 especially if followed by some signal and ruinous convulsion--as ,i hope will soon be the case with that pernicious people6 ,even from the secure haven of ,james's ,court1 the maledictions continue to pour forth3-- ,nothing but a rebellion and bloodshed will open the eyes of that deluded people2 though were they alone concerned1 ,i think it is no matter what becomes of them4444 ,our government has become a chimera1 and is too perfect1 in point of liberty1 for so rude a beast as an ,englishman2 who is a man1 a bad animal too1 corrupted by above a century of licentiousness4 ,the misfortune is that this liberty can scarcely be retrenched without danger of being entirely lost2 at least the fatal effects of licentiousness must first be made palpable by some extreme mischief resulting from it4 ,i may wish that the catastrophe should rather fall on our posterity1 but it hastens on with such large strides as to leave little room for hope4 ,i am running over again the last edition of my ,history1 in order to correct it still further4 ,i either soften or expunge many villainous seditious ,whig strokes which had crept into it4 ,i wish that my indignation at the present madness1 encouraged by lies1 calumnies1 imposture1 and every infamous act usual among popular leaders1 may not throw me into the opposite extreme4 ,a wise wish1 indeed4 ,posterity respectfully concurs therein2 and subjects ,hume's estimate of ,england and things ,english to such modifications as it would probably have undergone had the wish been fulfilled4 ,in #agge1 ,hume's health began to fail2 and1 in the spring of the following year1 his disorder1 which appears to have been hmorrhage of the bowels1 attained such a height that he knew it must be fatal4 ,so he made his will1 and wrote ,my ,own ,life1 the conclusion of which is one of the most cheerful1 simple1 and dignified leave-takings of life and all its concerns1 extant4 ,i now reckon upon a speedy dissolution4 ,i have suffered very little pain from my disorder2 and what is more strange1 have1 notwithstanding the great decline of my person1 never suffered a moment's abatement of spirits2 insomuch that were ,i to name the period of my life which ,i should most choose to pass over again1 ,i might be tempted to point to this later period4 ,i possess the same ardour as ever in study and the same gaiety in company2 ,i consider1 besides1 that a man of sixty-five1 by dying1 cuts off only a few years of infirmities2 and though ,i see many symptoms of my literary reputation's breaking out at last with additional lustre1 ,i know that ,i could have but few years to enjoy it4 ,it is difficult to be more detached from life than ,i am at present4 ,to conclude historically with my own character1 ,i am1 or rather was 7for that is the style ,i must now use in speaking of myself1 which emboldens me the more to speak my sentiments72 ,i was1 ,i say1 a man of mild dispositions1 of command of temper1 of an open1 social1 and cheerful humour1 capable of attachment1 but little susceptible of enmity1 and of great moderation in all my passions4 ,even my love of literary fame1 my ruling passion1 never soured my temper1 notwithstanding my frequent disappointments4 ,my company was not unacceptable to the young and careless1 as well as to the studious and literary2 and as ,i took a particular pleasure in the company of modest women1 ,i had no reason to be displeased with the reception ,i met with from them4 ,in a word1 though most men any wise eminent1 have found reason to complain of calumny1 ,i never was touched or even attacked by her baleful tooth2 and though ,i wantonly exposed myself to the rage of both civil and religious factions1 they seemed to be disarmed in my behalf of their wonted fury4 ,my friends never had occasion to vindicate any one circumstance of my character and conduct2 not but that the zealots1 we may well suppose1 would have been glad to invent and propagate any story to my disadvantage1 but they could never find any which they thought would wear the face of probability4 ,i cannot say there is no vanity in making this funeral oration of myself1 but ,i hope it is not a misplaced one2 and this is a matter of fact which is easily cleared and ascertained4 ,hume died in ,edinburgh on the #beth of ,august1 #aggf1 and1 a few days later1 his body1 attended by a great concourse of people1 who seem to have anticipated for it the fate appropriate to the remains of wizards and necromancers1 was deposited in a spot selected by himself1 in an old burial-ground on the eastern slope of the ,calton ,hill4 ,from the summit of this hill1 there is a prospect unequalled by any to be seen from the midst of a great city4 ,westward lies the ,forth1 and beyond it1 dimly blue1 the far away ,highland hills2 eastward1 rise the bold contours of ,arthur's ,seat and the rugged crags of the ,castle rock1 with the grey ,old ,town of ,edinburgh2 while1 far below1 from a maze of crowded thoroughfares1 the hoarse murmur of the toil of a polity of energetic men is borne upon the ear4 ,at times1 a man may be as solitary here as in a veritable wilderness2 and may meditate undisturbedly upon the epitome of nature and of man--the kingdoms of this world--spread out before him4 ,surely1 there is a fitness in the choice of this last resting-place by the philosopher and historian1 who saw so clearly that these two kingdoms form but one realm1 governed by uniform laws and alike based on impenetrable darkness and eternal silence3 and faithful to the last to that profound veracity which was the secret of his philosophic greatness1 he ordered that the simple ,roman tomb which marks his grave should bear no inscription but ,,david ,,hume ,,born #agaa4 ,,died #aggf4 ,leaving it to posterity to add the rest4 ,it was by the desire and at the suggestion of my friend1 the ,editor of this ,series1 that ,i undertook to attempt to help posterity in the difficult business of knowing what to add to ,hume's epitaph2 and ,i might1 with justice1 throw upon him the responsibility of my apparent presumption in occupying a place among the men of letters1 who are engaged with him1 in their proper function of writing about ,english ,men of ,letters4 ,that to which succeeding generations have made1 are making1 and will make1 continual additions1 however1 is ,hume's fame as a philosopher2 and1 though ,i know that my plea will add to my offence in some quarters1 ,i must plead1 in extenuation of my audacity1 that philosophy lies in the province of science1 and not in that of letters4 ,in dealing with ,hume's ,life1 ,i have endeavoured1 as far as possible1 to make him speak for himself4 ,if the extracts from his letters and essays which ,i have given do not sufficiently show what manner of man he was1 ,i am sure that nothing ,i could say would make the case plainer4 ,in the exposition of ,hume's philosophy which follows1 ,i have pursued the same plan1 and ,i have applied myself to the task of selecting and arranging in systematic order1 the passages which appeared to me to contain the clearest statements of ,hume's opinions4 ,i should have been glad to be able to confine myself to this duty1 and to limit my own comments to so much as was absolutely necessary to connect my excerpts4 ,here and there1 however1 it must be confessed that more is seen of my thread than of ,hume's beads4 ,my excuse must be an ineradicable tendency to try to make things clear2 while1 ,i may further hope1 that there is nothing in what ,i may have said1 which is inconsistent with the logical development of ,hume's principles4 ,my authority for the facts of ,hume's life is the admirable biography1 published in #ahdf1 by ,mr4 ,john ,hill ,burton4 ,the edition of ,hume's works from which all citations are made is that published by ,black and ,tait in ,edinburgh1 in #ahbf4 ,in this edition1 the ,essays are reprinted from the edition of #aggg1 corrected by the author for the press a short time before his death4 ,it is well printed in four handy volumes2 and as my copy has long been in my possession1 and bears marks of much reading1 it would have been troublesome for me to refer to any other4 ,but1 for the convenience of those who possess some other edition1 the following table of the contents of the edition of #ahbf1 with the paging of the four volumes1 is given3-- ,,volume ,i4 ,,treatise ,,of ,,human ,,nature4 ,book ,i4 ,of the ,understanding1 p4 #e to the end1 p4 #cdg4 ,,volume ,,ii4 ,,treatise ,,of ,,human ,,nature4 ,book ,,ii4 ,of the ,passions1 p4 #c-p4 #bae4 ,book ,,iii4 ,of ,morals1 p4 #bai-p4 #dae4 ,,dialogues ,,concerning ,,natural ,,religion1 p4 #dai-p4 #edh4 ,,appendix ,,to ,,the ,,treatise1 p4 #eea-p4 #efj4 ,,volume ,,iii4 ,,essays1 ,,moral ,,and ,,political1 p4 #c-p4 #bhb4 ,,political ,,discourses1 p4 #bhe-p4 #egi4 ,,volume ,,iv4 ,,an ,,inquiry ,,concerning ,,human ,,understanding1 p4 #c-p4 #bcc4 ,,an ,,inquiry ,,concerning ,,the ,,principles ,,of ,,morals1 p4 #bcg-p4 #dca4 ,,the ,,natural ,,history ,,of ,,religion1 p4 #dce-p4 #eac4 ,,additional ,,essays1 p4 #eag-p4 #egg4 ,as the volume and the page of the volume are given in my references1 it will be easy1 by the help of this table1 to learn where to look for any passage cited1 in differently arranged editions4 ,,footnotes3 #h ,pneumatic philosophy must not be confounded with the theory of elastic fluids2 though1 as ,scottish chairs have1 before now1 combined natural with civil history1 the mistake would be pardonable4 #i ,burton's ,life of ,david ,hume1 i4 p4 #ced4 #aj ,lord ,macaulay1 ,article on ,history1 ,edinburgh ,review1 vol4 lxvii4 #aa ,letter to ,clephane1 #crd ,september1 #ageg4 #ab ,you must know that ,lord ,hertford has so high a character for piety1 that his taking me by the hand is a kind of regeneration to me1 and all past offences are now wiped off4 ,but all these views are trifling to one of my age and temper4--,hume to ,edmonstone1 #ith ,january1 #agfd4 ,lord ,hertford had procured him a pension of #bjj a year for life from the ,king1 and the secretaryship was worth #ajjj a year4 #ac ,madame d',epinay gives a ludicrous account of ,hume's performance when pressed into a tableau1 as a ,sultan between two slaves1 personated for the occasion by two of the prettiest women in ,paris3-- ,il les regarde attentivement1 il se frappe le ventre et les genoux plusieurs reprises et ne trouve jamais autre chose leur dire que ,eh bien6 mes demoiselles4--,eh bien6 vous voil donc4444 ,eh bien6 vous voil 444 vous voil ici8 ,cette phrase dura un quart d'heure sans qu'il pt en sortir4 ,une d'elles se leva d'impatience3 ,ah1 dit-elle1 je m'en tois bien doute1 cet homme n'est bon qu' manger du veau6--,burton's ,life of ,hume1 vol4 ii4 p4 #bbd4 ,,part ,,ii4 ,,hume',s ,,philosophy4 ,,chapter ,i4 ,,the ,,object ,,and ,,scope ,,of ,,philosophy4 ,kant has said that the business of philosophy is to answer three questions3 ,what can ,i know8 ,what ought ,i to do8 and ,for what may ,i hope8 ,but it is pretty plain that these three resolve themselves1 in the long run1 into the first4 ,for rational expectation and moral action are alike based upon beliefs2 and a belief is void of justification1 unless its subject-matter lies within the boundaries of possible knowledge1 and unless its evidence satisfies the conditions which experience imposes as the guarantee of credibility4 ,fundamentally1 then1 philosophy is the answer to the question1 ,what can ,i know8 and it is by applying itself to this problem1 that philosophy is properly distinguished as a special department of scientific research4 ,what is commonly called science1 whether mathematical1 physical1 or biological1 consists of the answers which mankind have been able to give to the inquiry1 ,what do ,i know8 ,they furnish us with the results of the mental operations which constitute thinking2 while philosophy1 in the stricter sense of the term1 inquires into the foundation of the first principles which those operations assume or imply4 ,but though1 by reason of the special purpose of philosophy1 its distinctness from other branches of scientific investigation may be properly vindicated1 it is easy to see that1 from the nature of its subject-matter1 it is intimately and1 indeed1 inseparably connected with one branch of science4 ,for it is obviously impossible to answer the question1 ,what can we know8 unless1 in the first place1 there is a clear understanding as to what is meant by knowledge2 and1 having settled this point1 the next step is to inquire how we come by that which we allow to be knowledge2 for1 upon the reply1 turns the answer to the further question1 whether1 from the nature of the case1 there are limits to the knowable or not4 ,while1 finally1 inasmuch as ,what can ,i know8 not only refers to knowledge of the past or of the present1 but to the confident expectation which we call knowledge of the future2 it is necessary to ask1 further1 what justification can be alleged for trusting to the guidance of our expectations in practical conduct4 ,it surely needs no argumentation to show1 that the first problem cannot be approached without the examination of the contents of the mind2 and the determination of how much of these contents may be called knowledge4 ,nor can the second problem be dealt with in any other fashion2 for it is only by the observation of the growth of knowledge that we can rationally hope to discover how knowledge grows4 ,but the solution of the third problem simply involves the discussion of the data obtained by the investigation of the foregoing two4 ,thus1 in order to answer three out of the four subordinate questions into which ,what can ,i know8 breaks up1 we must have recourse to that investigation of mental phenomena1 the results of which are embodied in the science of psychology4 ,psychology is a part of the science of life or biology1 which differs from the other branches of that science1 merely in so far as it deals with the psychical1 instead of the physical1 phenomena of life4 ,as there is an anatomy of the body1 so there is an anatomy of the mind2 the psychologist dissects mental phenomena into elementary states of consciousness1 as the anatomist resolves limbs into tissues1 and tissues into cells4 ,the one traces the development of complex organs from simple rudiments2 the other follows the building up of complex conceptions out of simpler constituents of thought4 ,as the physiologist inquires into the way in which the so-called functions of the body are performed1 so the psychologist studies the so-called faculties of the mind4 ,even a cursory attention to the ways and works of the lower animals suggests a comparative anatomy and physiology of the mind2 and the doctrine of evolution presses for application as much in the one field as in the other4 ,but there is more than a parallel1 there is a close and intimate connexion between psychology and physiology4 ,no one doubts that1 at any rate1 some mental states are dependent for their existence on the performance of the functions of particular bodily organs4 ,there is no seeing without eyes1 and no hearing without ears4 ,if the origin of the contents of the mind is truly a philosophical problem1 then the philosopher who attempts to deal with that problem1 without acquainting himself with the physiology of sensation1 has no more intelligent conception of his business than the physiologist1 who thinks he can discuss locomotion1 without an acquaintance with the principles of mechanics2 or respiration1 without some tincture of chemistry4 ,on whatever ground we term physiology1 science1 psychology is entitled to the same appellation2 and the method of investigation which elucidates the true relations of the one set of phenomena will discover those of the other4 ,hence1 as philosophy is1 in great measure1 the exponent of the logical consequences of certain data established by psychology2 and as psychology itself differs from physical science only in the nature of its subject-matter1 and not in its method of investigation1 it would seem to be an obvious conclusion1 that philosophers are likely to be successful in their inquiries1 in proportion as they are familiar with the application of scientific method to less abstruse subjects2 just as it seems to require no elaborate demonstration1 that an astronomer1 who wishes to comprehend the solar system1 would do well to acquire a preliminary acquaintance with the elements of physics4 ,and it is accordant with this presumption1 that the men who have made the most important positive additions to philosophy1 such as ,descartes1 ,spinoza1 and ,kant1 not to mention more recent examples1 have been deeply imbued with the spirit of physical science2 and1 in some cases1 such as those of ,descartes and ,kant1 have been largely acquainted with its details4 ,on the other hand1 the founder of ,positivism no less admirably illustrates the connexion of scientific incapacity with philosophical incompetence4 ,in truth1 the laboratory is the fore-court of the temple of philosophy2 and whoso has not offered sacrifices and undergone purification there1 has little chance of admission into the sanctuary4 ,obvious as these considerations may appear to be1 it would be wrong to ignore the fact that their force is by no means universally admitted4 ,on the contrary1 the necessity for a proper psychological and physiological training to the student of philosophy is denied1 on the one hand1 by the pure metaphysicians1 who attempt to base the theory of knowing upon supposed necessary and universal truths1 and assert that scientific observation is impossible unless such truths are already known or implied3 which1 to those who are not pure metaphysicians1 seems very much as if one should say that the fall of a stone cannot be observed1 unless the law of gravitation is already in the mind of the observer4 ,on the other hand1 the ,positivists1 so far as they accept the teachings of their master1 roundly assert1 at any rate in words1 that observation of the mind is a thing inherently impossible in itself1 and that psychology is a chimera--a phantasm generated by the fermentation of the dregs of theology4 ,nevertheless1 if ,m4 ,comte had been asked what he meant by physiologic crebrale1 except that which other people call psychology2 and how he knew anything about the functions of the brain1 except by that very observation intrieure1 which he declares to be an absurdity--it seems probable that he would have found it hard to escape the admission1 that1 in vilipending psychology1 he had been propounding solemn nonsense4 ,it is assuredly one of ,hume's greatest merits that he clearly recognised the fact that philosophy is based upon psychology2 and that the inquiry into the contents and the operations of the mind must be conducted upon the same principles as a physical investigation1 if what he calls the moral philosopher would attain results of as firm and definite a character as those which reward the natural philosopher4#ad ,the title of his first work1 a ,treatise of ,human ,nature1 being an ,attempt to introduce the ,experimental method of ,reasoning into ,moral ,subjects1 sufficiently indicates the point of view from which ,hume regarded philosophical problems2 and he tells us in the preface1 that his object has been to promote the construction of a science of man4 ',tis evident that all the sciences have a relation1 greater or less1 to human nature2 and that1 however wide any of them may seem to run from it1 they still return back by one passage or another4 ,even ,mathematics1 ,natural ,philosophy1 and ,natural ,religion are in some measure dependent on the science of ,,man2 since they lie under the cognizance of men1 and are judged of by their powers and qualities4 ',tis impossible to tell what changes and improvements we might make in these sciences were we thoroughly acquainted with the extent and force of human understanding1 and could explain the nature of the ideas we employ and of the operations we perform in our reasonings4444 ,to me it seems evident that the essence of mind being equally unknown to us with that of external bodies1 it must be equally impossible to form any notion of its powers and qualities otherwise than from careful and exact experiments1 and the observation of those particular effects which result from its different circumstances and situations4 ,and though we must endeavour to render all our principles as universal as possible1 by tracing up our experiments to the utmost1 and explaining all effects from the simplest and fewest causes1 'tis still certain we cannot go beyond experience2 and any hypothesis that pretends to discover the ultimate original qualities of human nature1 ought at first to be rejected as presumptuous and chimerical4444 ,but if this impossibility of explaining ultimate principles should be esteemed a defect in the science of man1 ,i will venture to affirm1 that it is a defect common to it with all the sciences1 and all the arts1 in which we can employ ourselves1 whether they be such as are cultivated in the schools of the philosophers1 or practised in the shops of the meanest artisans4 ,none of them can go beyond experience1 or establish any principles which are not founded on that authority4 ,moral philosophy has1 indeed1 this peculiar disadvantage1 which is not found in natural1 that in collecting its experiments1 it cannot make them purposely1 with premeditation1 and after such a manner as to satisfy itself concerning every particular difficulty which may arise4 ,when ,i am at a loss to know the effects of one body upon another in any situation1 ,i need only put them in that situation1 and observe what results from it4 ,but should ,i endeavour to clear up in the same manner any#ae doubt in moral philosophy1 by placing myself in the same case with that which ,i consider1 'tis evident this reflection and premeditation would so disturb the operation of my natural principles1 as must render it impossible to form any just conclusion from the phenomenon4 ,we must1 therefore1 glean up our experiments in this science from a cautious observation of human life1 and take them as they appear in the common course of the world1 by men's behaviour in company1 in affairs1 and in their pleasures4 ,where experiments of this kind are judiciously collected and compared1 we may hope to establish on them a science which will not be inferior in certainty1 and will be much superior in utility1 to any other of human comprehension4--7,i4 pp4 #g-aa47 ,all science starts with hypotheses--in other words1 with assumptions that are unproved1 while they may be1 and often are1 erroneous2 but which are better than nothing to the seeker after order in the maze of phenomena4 ,and the historical progress of every science depends on the criticism of hypotheses--on the gradual stripping off1 that is1 of their untrue or superfluous parts--until there remains only that exact verbal expression of as much as we know of the fact1 and no more1 which constitutes a perfect scientific theory4 ,philosophy has followed the same course as other branches of scientific investigation4 ,the memorable service rendered to the cause of sound thinking by ,descartes consisted in this3 that he laid the foundation of modern philosophical criticism by his inquiry into the nature of certainty4 ,it is a clear result of the investigation started by ,descartes1 that there is one thing of which no doubt can be entertained1 for he who should pretend to doubt it would thereby prove its existence2 and that is the momentary consciousness we call a present thought or feeling2 that is safe1 even if all other kinds of certainty are merely more or less probable inferences4 ,berkeley and ,locke1 each in his way1 applied philosophical criticism in other directions2 but they always1 at any rate professedly1 followed the ,cartesian maxim of admitting no propositions to be true but such as are clear1 distinct1 and evident1 even while their arguments stripped off many a layer of hypothetical assumption which their great predecessor had left untouched4 ,no one has more clearly stated the aims of the critical philosopher than ,locke1 in a passage of the famous ,essay concerning ,human ,understanding1 which1 perhaps1 ,i ought to assume to be well known to all ,english readers1 but which so probably is unknown to this full-crammed and much examined generation that ,i venture to cite it3 ,if by this inquiry into the nature of the understanding ,i can discover the powers thereof1 how far they reach1 to what things they are in any degree proportionate1 and where they fail us1 ,i suppose it may be of use to prevail with the busy mind of man to be more cautious in meddling with things exceeding its comprehension3 to stop when it is at the utmost extent of its tether2 and to sit down in quiet ignorance of those things which1 upon examination1 are proved to be beyond the reach of our capacities4 ,we should not then1 perhaps1 be so forward1 out of an affectation of universal knowledge1 to raise questions and perplex ourselves and others with disputes about things to which our understandings are not suited1 and of which we cannot frame in our minds any clear and distinct perception1 or whereof 7as it has1 perhaps1 too often happened7 we have not any notion at all4444 ,men may find matter sufficient to busy their heads and employ their hands with variety1 delight1 and satisfaction1 if they will not boldly quarrel with their own constitution and throw away the blessings their hands are filled with because they are not big enough to grasp everything4 ,we shall not have much reason to complain of the narrowness of our minds1 if we will but employ them about what may be of use to us3 for of that they are very capable3 and it will be an unpardonable1 as well as a childish peevishness1 if we under-value the advantages of our knowledge1 and neglect to improve it to the ends for which it was given us1 because there are some things that are set out of the reach of it4 ,it will be no excuse to an idle and untoward servant who would not attend to his business by candlelight1 to plead that he had not broad sunshine4 ,the candle that is set up in us shines bright enough for all our purposes4444 ,our business here is not to know all things1 but those which concern our conduct4#af ,hume develops the same fundamental conception in a somewhat different way1 and with a more definite indication of the practical benefits which may be expected from a critical philosophy4 ,the first and second parts of the twelfth section of the ,inquiry are devoted to a condemnation of excessive scepticism1 or ,pyrrhonism1 with which ,hume couples a caricature of the ,cartesian doubt2 but1 in the third part1 a certain mitigated scepticism is recommended and adopted1 under the title of academical philosophy4 ,after pointing out that a knowledge of the infirmities of the human understanding1 even in its most perfect state1 and when most accurate and cautious in its determinations1 is the best check upon the tendency to dogmatism1 ,hume continues3-- ,another species of mitigated scepticism1 which may be of advantage to mankind1 and which maybe the natural result of the ,,pyrrhonian doubts and scruples1 is the limitation of our inquiries to such subjects as are best adapted to the narrow capacity of human understanding4 ,the imagination of man is naturally sublime1 delighted with whatever is remote and extraordinary1 and running1 without control1 into the most distant parts of space and time in order to avoid the objects which custom has rendered too familiar to it4 ,a correct judgment observes a contrary method1 and1 avoiding all distant and high inquiries1 confines itself to common life1 and to such subjects as fall under daily practice and experience2 leaving the more sublime topics to the embellishment of poets and orators1 or to the arts of priests and politicians4 ,to bring us to so salutary a determination1 nothing can be more serviceable than to be once thoroughly convinced of the force of the ,,pyrrhonian doubt1 and of the impossibility that anything but the strong power of natural instinct could free us from it4 ,those who have a propensity to philosophy will still continue their researches2 because they reflect1 that1 besides the immediate pleasure attending such an occupation1 philosophical decisions are nothing but the reflections of common life1 methodised and corrected4 ,but they will never be tempted to go beyond common life1 so long as they consider the imperfection of those faculties which they employ1 their narrow reach1 and their inaccurate operations4 ,while we cannot give a satisfactory reason why we believe1 after a thousand experiments1 that a stone will fall or fire burn2 can we ever satisfy ourselves concerning any determination which we may form with regard to the origin of worlds and the situation of nature from and to eternity8--7,,iv4 pp4 #ahi--ij47 ,but further1 it is the business of criticism not only to keep watch over the vagaries of philosophy1 but to do the duty of police in the whole world of thought4 ,wherever it espies sophistry or superstition they are to be bidden to stand2 nay1 they are to be followed to their very dens and there apprehended and exterminated1 as ,othello smothered ,desdemona1 else she'll betray more men4 ,hume warms into eloquence as he sets forth the labours meet for the strength and the courage of the ,hercules of mitigated scepticism4 ,here1 indeed1 lies the justest and most plausible objection against a considerable part of metaphysics1 that they are not properly a science1 but arise either from the fruitless efforts of human vanity1 which would penetrate into subjects utterly inaccessible to the understanding1 or from the craft of popular superstitions1 which1 being unable to defend themselves on fair ground1 raise these entangling brambles to cover and protect their weakness4 ,chased from the open country1 these robbers fly into the forest1 and lie in wait to break in upon every unguarded avenue of the mind and overwhelm it with religious fears and prejudices4 ,the stoutest antagonist1 if he remits his watch a moment1 is oppressed2 and many1 through cowardice and folly1 open the gates to the enemies1 and willingly receive them with reverence and submission as their legal sovereigns4 ,but is this a sufficient reason why philosophers should desist from such researches and leave superstition still in possession of her retreat8 ,is it not proper to draw an opposite conclusion1 and perceive the necessity of carrying the war into the most secret recesses of the enemy8444 ,the only method of freeing learning at once from these abstruse questions1 is to inquire seriously into the nature of human understanding1 and show1 from an exact analysis of its powers and capacity1 that it is by no means fitted for such remote and abstruse subjects4 ,we must submit to this fatigue1 in order to live at ease ever after2 and must cultivate true metaphysics with some care1 in order to destroy the false and adulterated4--7,,iv4 pp4 #aj1 #aa47 ,near a century and a half has elapsed since these brave words were shaped by ,david ,hume's pen2 and the business of carrying the war into the enemy's camp has gone on but slowly4 ,like other campaigns1 it long languished for want of a good base of operations4 ,but since physical science1 in the course of the last fifty years1 has brought to the front an inexhaustible supply of heavy artillery of a new pattern1 warranted to drive solid bolts of fact through the thickest skulls1 things are looking better2 though hardly more than the first faint flutterings of the dawn of the happy day1 when superstition and false metaphysics shall be no more and reasonable folks may live at ease1 are as yet discernible by the enfants perdus of the outposts4 ,if1 in thus conceiving the object and the limitations of philosophy1 ,hume shows himself the spiritual child and continuator of the work of ,locke1 he appears no less plainly as the parent of ,kant and as the protagonist of that more modern way of thinking1 which has been called agnosticism1 from its profession of an incapacity to discover the indispensable conditions of either positive or negative knowledge1 in many propositions1 respecting which1 not only the vulgar1 but philosophers of the more sanguine sort1 revel in the luxury of unqualified assurance4 ,the aim of the ,kritik der reinen ,vernunft is essentially the same as that of the ,treatise of ,human ,nature1 by which indeed ,kant was led to develop that critical philosophy with which his name and fame are indissolubly bound up3 and1 if the details of ,kant's criticism differ from those of ,hume1 they coincide with them in their main result1 which is the limitation of all knowledge of reality to the world of phenomena revealed to us by experience4 ,the philosopher of ,knigsberg epitomises the philosopher of ,ninewells when he thus sums up the uses of philosophy3-- ,the greatest and perhaps the sole use of all philosophy of pure reason is1 after all1 merely negative1 since it serves1 not as an organon for the enlargement of knowledge1 but as a discipline for its delimitation2 and instead of discovering truth1 has only the modest merit of preventing error4#ag ,,footnotes3 #ad ,in a letter to ,hutcheson 7,september #agth1 #agci7 ,hume remarks3--,there are different ways of examining the mind as well as the body4 ,one may consider it either as an anatomist or as a painter3 either to discover its most secret springs and principles1 or to describe the grace and beauty of its actions2 and he proceeds to justify his own mode of looking at the moral sentiments from the anatomist's point of view4 #ae ,the manner in which ,hume constantly refers to the results of the observation of the contents and the processes of his own mind clearly shows that he has here inadvertently overstated the case4 #af ,locke1 ,an ,essay concerning ,human ,understanding1 ,book ,i1 chap4 i1 #d1 #e1 #f4 #ag ,kritik der reinen ,vernunft4 ,ed4 ,hartenstein1 p4 #bef4 ,,chapter ,,ii4 ,,the ,,contents ,,of ,,the ,,mind4 ,in the language of common life1 the mind is spoken of as an entity1 independent of the body1 though resident in and closely connected with it1 and endowed with numerous faculties1 such as sensibility1 understanding1 memory1 volition1 which stand in the same relation to the mind as the organs do to the body1 and perform the functions of feeling1 reasoning1 remembering1 and willing4 ,of these functions1 some1 such as sensation1 are supposed to be merely passive--that is1 they are called into existence by impressions1 made upon the sensitive faculty by a material world of real objects1 of which our sensations are supposed to give us pictures2 others1 such as the memory and the reasoning faculty1 are considered to be partly passive and partly active2 while volition is held to be potentially1 if not always actually1 a spontaneous activity4 ,the popular classification and terminology of the phenomena of consciousness1 however1 are by no means the first crude conceptions suggested by common sense1 but rather a legacy1 and1 in many respects1 a sufficiently damnosa hreditas1 of ancient philosophy1 more or less leavened by theology2 which has incorporated itself with the common thought of later times1 as the vices of the aristocracy of one age become those of the mob in the next4 ,very little attention to what passes in the mind is sufficient to show1 that these conceptions involve assumptions of an extremely hypothetical character4 ,and the first business of the student of psychology is to get rid of such prepossessions2 to form conceptions of mental phenomena as they are given us by observation1 without any hypothetical admixture1 or with only so much as is definitely recognised and held subject to confirmation or otherwise2 to classify these phenomena according to their clearly recognisable characters2 and to adopt a nomenclature which suggests nothing beyond the results of observation4 ,thus chastened1 observation of the mind makes us acquainted with nothing but certain events1 facts1 or phenomena 7whichever name be preferred7 which pass over the inward field of view in rapid and1 as it may appear on careless inspection1 in disorderly succession1 like the shifting patterns of a kaleidoscope4 ,to all these mental phenomena1 or states of our consciousness1#ah ,descartes gave the name of thoughts1#ai while ,locke and ,berkeley termed them ideas4 ,hume1 regarding this as an improper use of the word idea1 for which he proposes another employment1 gives the general name of perceptions to all states of consciousness4 ,thus1 whatever other signification we may see reason to attach to the word mind1 it is certain that it is a name which is employed to denote a series of perceptions2 just as the word tune1 whatever else it may mean1 denotes1 in the first place1 a succession of musical notes4 ,hume1 indeed1 goes further than others when he says that-- ,what we call a mind is nothing but a heap or collection of different perceptions1 united together by certain relations1 and supposed1 though falsely1 to be endowed with a perfect simplicity and identity4--7,i4 p4 #bfh47 ,with this nothing but1 however1 he obviously falls into the primal and perennial error of philosophical speculators--dogmatising from negative arguments4 ,he may be right or wrong2 but the most he1 or anybody else1 can prove in favour of his conclusion is1 that we know nothing more of the mind than that it is a series of perceptions4 ,whether there is something in the mind that lies beyond the reach of observation2 or whether perceptions themselves are the products of something which can be observed and which is not mind2 are questions which can in nowise be settled by direct observation4 ,elsewhere1 the objectionable hypothetical element of the definition of mind is less prominent3-- ,the true idea of the human mind is to consider it as a system of different perceptions1 or different existences1 which are linked together by the relation of cause and effect1 and mutually produce1 destroy1 influence and modify each other4444 ,in this respect ,i cannot compare the soul more properly to anything than a republic or commonwealth1 in which the several members are united by the reciprocal ties of government and subordination1 and give rise to other persons who propagate the same republic in the incessant changes of its parts4--7,i4 p4 #cca74 ,but1 leaving the question of the proper definition of mind open for the present1 it is further a matter of direct observation1 that1 when we take a general survey of all our perceptions or states of consciousness1 they naturally fall into sundry groups or classes4 ,of these classes1 two are distinguished by ,hume as of primary importance4 ,all perceptions1 he says1 are either ,impressions or ,ideas4 ,under impressions he includes all our more lively perceptions1 when we hear1 see1 feel1 love1 or will2 in other words1 all our sensations1 passions1 and emotions1 as they make their first appearance in the soul 7,i4 p4 #ae74 ,ideas1 on the other hand1 are the faint images of impressions in thinking and reasoning1 or of antecedent ideas4 ,both impressions and ideas may be either simple1 when they are incapable of further analysis1 or complex1 when they may be resolved into simpler constituents4 ,all simple ideas are exact copies of impressions2 but1 in complex ideas1 the arrangement of simple constituents may be different from that of the impressions of which those simple ideas are copies4 ,thus the colours red and blue and the odour of a rose1 are simple impressions2 while the ideas of blue1 of red1 and of rose-odour are simple copies of these impressions4 ,but a red rose gives us a complex impression1 capable of resolution into the simple impressions of red colour1 rose-scent1 and numerous others2 and we may have a complex idea1 which is an accurate1 though faint1 copy of this complex impression4 ,once in possession of the ideas of a red rose and of the colour blue1 we may1 in imagination1 substitute blue for red2 and thus obtain a complex idea of a blue rose1 which is not an actual copy of any complex impression1 though all its elements are such copies4 ,hume has been criticised for making the distinction of impressions and ideas to depend upon their relative strength or vivacity4 ,yet it would be hard to point out any other character by which the things signified can be distinguished4 ,any one who has paid attention to the curious subject of what are called subjective sensations will be familiar with examples of the extreme difficulty which sometimes attends the discrimination of ideas of sensation from impressions of sensation1 when the ideas are very vivid1 or the impressions are faint4 ,who has not fancied he heard a noise2 or has not explained inattention to a real sound by saying1 ,i thought it was nothing but my fancy8 ,even healthy persons are much more liable to both visual and auditory spectra--that is1 ideas of vision and sound so vivid that they are taken for new impressions--than is commonly supposed2 and1 in some diseased states1 ideas of sensible objects may assume all the vividness of reality4 ,if ideas are nothing but copies of impressions1 arranged1 either in the same order as that of the impressions from which they are derived1 or in a different order1 it follows that the ultimate analysis of the contents of the mind turns upon that of the impressions4 ,according to ,hume1 these are of two kinds3 either they are impressions of sensation1 or they are impressions of reflection4 ,the former are those afforded by the five senses1 together with pleasure and pain4 ,the latter are the passions or the emotions 7which ,hume employs as equivalent terms74 ,thus the elementary states of consciousness1 the raw materials of knowledge1 so to speak1 are either sensations or emotions2 and whatever we discover in the mind1 beyond these elementary states of consciousness1 results from the combinations and the metamorphoses which they undergo4 ,it is not a little strange that a thinker of ,hume's capacity should have been satisfied with the results of a psychological analysis which regards some obvious compounds as elements1 while it omits altogether a most important class of elementary states4 ,with respect to the former point1 ,spinoza's masterly examination of the ,passions in the third part of the ,ethics should have been known to ,hume4#bj ,but1 if he had been acquainted with that wonderful piece of psychological anatomy1 he would have learned that the emotions and passions are all complex states1 arising from the close association of ideas of pleasure or pain with other ideas2 and1 indeed1 without going to ,spinoza1 his own acute discussion of the passions leads to the same result1#ba and is wholly inconsistent with his classification of those mental states among the primary uncompounded materials of consciousness4 ,if ,hume's impressions of reflection are excluded from among the primary elements of consciousness1 nothing is left but the impressions afforded by the five senses1 with pleasure and pain4 ,putting aside the muscular sense1 which had not come into view in ,hume's time1 the questions arise whether these are all the simple undecomposable materials of thought8 or whether others exist of which ,hume takes no cognizance4 ,kant answered the latter question in the affirmative1 in the ,kritik der reinen ,vernunft1 and thereby made one of the greatest advances ever effected in philosophy2 though it must be confessed that the ,german philosopher's exposition of his views is so perplexed in style1 so burdened with the weight of a cumbrous and uncouth scholasticism1 that it is easy to confound the unessential parts of his system with those which are of profound importance4 ,his baggage train is bigger than his army1 and the student who attacks him is too often led to suspect he has won a position when he has only captured a mob of useless camp-followers4 ,in his ,principles of ,psychology1 ,mr4 ,herbert ,spencer appears to me to have brought out the essential truth which underlies ,kant's doctrine in a far clearer manner than any one else2 but1 for the purpose of the present summary view of ,hume's philosophy1 it must suffice if ,i state the matter in my own way1 giving the broad outlines1 without entering into the details of a large and difficult discussion4 ,when a red light flashes across the field of vision1 there arises in the mind an impression of sensation--which we call red4 ,it appears to me that this sensation1 red1 is a something which may exist altogether independently of any other impression1 or idea1 as an individual existence4 ,it is perfectly conceivable that a sentient being should have no sense but vision1 and that he should have spent his existence in absolute darkness1 with the exception of one solitary flash of red light4 ,that momentary illumination would suffice to give him the impression under consideration2 and the whole content of his consciousness might be that impression2 and1 if he were endowed with memory1 its idea4 ,such being the state of affairs1 suppose a second flash of red light to follow the first4 ,if there were no memory of the latter1 the state of the mind on the second occasion would simply be a repetition of that which occurred before4 ,there would be merely another impression4 ,but suppose memory to exist1 and that an idea of the first impression is generated2 then1 if the supposed sentient being were like ourselves1 there might arise in his mind two altogether new impressions4 ,the one is the feeling of the succession of the two impressions1 the other is the feeling of their similarity4 ,yet a third case is conceivable4 ,suppose two flashes of red light to occur together1 then a third feeling might arise which is neither succession nor similarity1 but that which we call co-existence4 ,these feelings1 or their contraries1 are the foundation of everything that we call a relation4 ,they are no more capable of being described than sensations are2 and1 as it appears to me1 they are as little susceptible of analysis into simpler elements4 ,like simple tastes and smells1 or feelings of pleasure and pain1 they are ultimate irresolvable facts of conscious experience2 and1 if we follow the principle of ,hume's nomenclature1 they must be called impressions of relation4 ,but it must be remembered1 that they differ from the other impressions1 in requiring the pre-existence of at least two of the latter4 ,though devoid of the slightest resemblance to the other impressions1 they are1 in a manner1 generated by them4 ,in fact1 we may regard them as a kind of impressions of impressions2 or as the sensations of an inner sense1 which takes cognizance of the materials furnished to it by the outer senses4 ,hume failed as completely as his predecessors had done to recognise the elementary character of impressions of relation2 and1 when he discusses relations1 he falls into a chaos of confusion and self-contradiction4 ,in the ,treatise1 for example1 7,book ,i41 iv47 resemblance1 contiguity in time and space1 and cause and effect1 are said to be the uniting principles among ideas1 the bond of union or associating quality by which one idea naturally introduces another4 ,hume affirms that-- ,these qualities produce an association among ideas1 and upon the appearance of one idea naturally introduce another4 ,they are the principles of union or cohesion among our simple ideas1 and1 in the imagination1 supply the place of that inseparable connection by which they are united in our memory4 ,here is a kind of attraction1 which1 in the mental world1 will be found to have as extraordinary effects as in the natural1 and to show itself in as many and as various forms4 ,its effects are everywhere conspicuous2 but1 as to its causes they are mostly unknown1 and must be resolved into original qualities of human nature1 which ,i pretend not to explain4--7,i4 p4 #bi47 ,and at the end of this section ,hume goes on to say-- ,amongst the effects of this union or association of ideas1 there are none more remarkable than those complex ideas which are the common subjects of our thought and reasoning1 and generally arise from some principle of union among our simple ideas4 ,these complex ideas may be resolved into relations1 modes1 and substances4--7,ibid47 ,in the next section1 which is devoted to ,relations1 they are spoken of as qualities by which two ideas are connected together in the imagination1 or which make objects admit of comparison1 and seven kinds of relation are enumerated1 namely1 resemblance1 identity1 space and time1 quantity or number1 degrees of quality1 contrariety1 and cause and effect4 ,to the reader of ,hume1 whose conceptions are usually so clear1 definite1 and consistent1 it is as unsatisfactory as it is surprising to meet with so much questionable and obscure phraseology in a small space4 ,one and the same thing1 for example1 resemblance1 is first called a quality of an idea1 and secondly a complex idea4 ,surely it cannot be both4 ,ideas which have the qualities of resemblance1 contiguity1 and cause and effect1 are said to attract one another 7save the mark671 and so become associated2 though1 in a subsequent part of the ,treatise1 ,hume's great effort is to prove that the relation of cause and effect is a particular case of the process of association2 that is to say1 is a result of the process of which it is supposed to be the cause4 ,moreover1 since1 as ,hume is never weary of reminding his readers1 there is nothing in ideas save copies of impressions1 the qualities of resemblance1 contiguity1 and so on1 in the idea1 must have existed in the impression of which that idea is a copy2 and therefore they must be either sensations or emotions--from both of which classes they are excluded4 ,in fact1 in one place1 ,hume himself has an insight into the real nature of relations4 ,speaking of equality1 in the sense of a relation of quantity1 he says-- ,since equality is a relation1 it is not1 strictly speaking1 a property in the figures themselves1 but arises merely from the comparison which the mind makes between them4--7,i4 p4 #gj47 ,that is to say1 when two impressions of equal figures are present1 there arises in the mind a tertium quid1 which is the perception of equality4 ,on his own principles1 ,hume should therefore have placed this perception among the ideas of reflection4 ,however1 as we have seen1 he expressly excludes everything but the emotions and the passions from this group4 ,it is necessary therefore to amend ,hume's primary geography of the mind by the excision of one territory and the addition of another2 and the elementary states of consciousness will stand thus3-- ,a4 ,,impressions4 ,a4 ,sensations of a4 ,smell4 b4 ,taste4 c4 ,hearing4 d4 ,sight4 e4 ,touch4 f4 ,resistance 7the muscular sense74 ,b4 ,pleasure and ,pain4 ,c4 ,relations4 a4 ,co-existence4 b4 ,succession4 c4 ,similarity and dissimilarity4 ,b4 ,,ideas4 ,copies1 or reproductions in memory1 of the foregoing4 ,and now the question arises1 whether any1 and if so what1 portion of these contents of the mind are to be termed knowledge4 ,according to ,locke1 ,knowledge is the perception of the agreement or disagreement of two ideas2 and ,hume1 though he does not say so in so many words1 tacitly accepts the definition4 ,it follows1 that neither simple sensation1 nor simple emotion1 constitutes knowledge2 but that1 when impressions of relation are added to these impressions1 or their ideas1 knowledge arises2 and that all knowledge is the knowledge of likenesses and unlikenesses1 co-existences and successions4 ,it really matters very little in what sense terms are used1 so long as the same meaning is always rigidly attached to them2 and1 therefore1 it is hardly worth while to quarrel with this generally accepted1 though very arbitrary1 limitation of the signification of knowledge4 ,but1 on the face of the matter1 it is not obvious why the impression we call a relation should have a better claim to the title of knowledge1 than that which we call a sensation or an emotion2 and the restriction has this unfortunate result1 that it excludes all the most intense states of consciousness from any claim to the title of knowledge4 ,for example1 on this view1 pain1 so violent and absorbing as to exclude all other forms of consciousness1 is not knowledge2 but becomes a part of knowledge the moment we think of it in relation to another pain1 or to some other mental phenomenon4 ,surely this is somewhat inconvenient1 for there is only a verbal difference between having a sensation and knowing one has it3 they are simply two phrases for the same mental state4 ,but the pure metaphysicians make great capital out of the ambiguity4 ,for1 starting with the assumption that all knowledge is the perception of relations1 and finding themselves1 like mere common-sense folks1 very much disposed to call sensation knowledge1 they at once gratify that disposition and save their consistency1 by declaring that even the simplest act of sensation contains two terms and a relation--the sensitive subject1 the sensigenous object1 and that masterful entity1 the ,ego4 ,from which great triad1 as from a gnostic ,trinity1 emanates an endless procession of other logical shadows and all the ,fata ,morgana of philosophical dreamland4 ,,footnotes3 #ah ,consciousnesses would be a better name1 but it is awkward4 ,i have elsewhere proposed psychoses as a substantive name for mental phenomena4 #ai ,as this has been denied1 it may be as well to give ,descartes's words3 ,par le mot de penser1 j'entends tout ce que se fait dans nous de telle sorte que nous l'apercevons immdiatement par nous-mmes3 c'est pourquoi non-seulement entendre1 vouloir1 imaginer1 mais aussi sentir1 c'est le mme chose ici que penser4--,principes de ,philosophie4 ,ed4 ,cousin4 #eg4 ,toutes les proprits que nous trouvons en la chose qui pense ne sont que des faons diffrentes de penser4--,ibid4 #if4 #bj ,on the whole1 it is pleasant to find satisfactory evidence that ,hume knew nothing of the works of ,spinoza2 for the invariably abusive manner in which he refers to that type of the philosophic hero is only to be excused1 if it is to be excused1 by sheer ignorance of his life and work4 #ba ,for example1 in discussing pride and humility1 ,hume says3-- ,according as our idea of ourselves is more or less advantageous1 we feel either of these opposite affections1 and are elated by pride or dejected with humility 444 when self enters not into the consideration there is no room either for pride or humility4 ,that is1 pride is pleasure1 and humility is pain1 associated with certain conceptions of one's self2 or1 as ,spinoza puts it3--,superbia est de se pr amore sui plus justo sentire 7amor being ltitia concomitante idea caus extern72 and ,humilitas est tristitia orta ex eo quod homo suam impotentiam sive imbecillitatem contemplatur4 ,,chapter ,,iii4 ,,the ,,origin ,,of ,,the ,,impressions4 ,admitting that the sensations1 the feelings of pleasure and pain1 and those of relation1 are the primary irresolvable states of consciousness1 two further lines of investigation present themselves4 ,the one leads us to seek the origin of these impressions2 the other1 to inquire into the nature of the steps by which they become metamorphosed into those compound states of consciousness1 which so largely enter into our ordinary trains of thought4 ,with respect to the origin of impressions of sensation1 ,hume is not quite consistent with himself4 ,in one place 7,i4 p4 #aag7 he says1 that it is impossible to decide whether they arise immediately from the object1 or are produced by the creative power of the mind1 or are derived from the ,author of our being1 thereby implying that realism and idealism are equally probable hypotheses4 ,but1 in fact1 after the demonstration by ,descartes1 that the immediate antecedents of sensations are changes in the nervous system1 with which our feelings have no sort of resemblance1 the hypothesis that sensations arise immediately from the object was out of court2 and that ,hume fully admitted the ,cartesian doctrine is apparent when he says 7,i4 p4 #bgb73-- ,all our perceptions are dependent on our organs and the disposition of our nerves and animal spirits4 ,and again1 though in relation to another question1 he observes3-- ,there are three different kinds of impressions conveyed by the senses4 ,the first are those of the figure1 bulk1 motion1 and solidity of bodies4 ,the second those of colours1 tastes1 smells1 sounds1 heat1 and cold4 ,the third are the pains and pleasures that arise from the application of objects to our bodies1 as by the cutting of our flesh with steel1 and such like4 ,both philosophers and the vulgar suppose the first of these to have a distinct continued existence4 ,the vulgar only regard the second as on the same footing4 ,both philosophers and the vulgar again esteem the third to be merely perceptions1 and consequently interrupted and dependent beings4 ,now 'tis evident that1 whatever may be our philosophical opinion1 colour1 sounds1 heat1 and cold1 as far as appears to the senses1 exist after the same manner with motion and solidity2 and that the difference we make between them1 in this respect1 arises not from the mere perception4 ,so strong is the prejudice for the distinct continued existence of the former qualities1 that when the contrary opinion is advanced by modern philosophers1 people imagine they can almost refute it from their reason and experience1 and that their very senses contradict this philosophy4 ',tis also evident that colours1 sounds1 c41 are originally on the same footing with the pain that arises from steel1 and pleasure that proceeds from a fire2 and that the difference betwixt them is founded neither on perception nor reason1 but on the imagination4 ,for as they are confessed to be1 both of them1 nothing but perceptions arising from the particular configurations and motions of the parts of body1 wherein possibly can their difference consist8 ,upon the whole1 then1 we may conclude that1 as far as the senses are judges1 all perceptions are the same in the manner of their existence4--7,i4 p4 #bej1 #bea47 ,the last words of this passage are as much ,berkeley's as ,hume's4 ,but1 instead of following ,berkeley in his deductions from the position thus laid down1 ,hume1 as the preceding citation shows1 fully adopted the conclusion to which all that we know of psychological physiology tends1 that the origin of the elements of consciousness1 no less than that of all its other states1 is to be sought in bodily changes1 the seat of which can only be placed in the brain4 ,and1 as ,locke had already done with less effect1 he states and refutes the arguments commonly brought against the possibility of a causal connexion between the modes of motion of the cerebral substance and states of consciousness1 with great clearness3-- ,from these hypotheses concerning the substance and local conjunction of our perceptions we may pass to another1 which is more intelligible than the former1 and more important than the latter1 viz4 concerning the cause of our perceptions4 ,matter and motion1 'tis commonly said in the schools1 however varied1 are still matter and motion1 and produce only a difference in the position and situation of objects4 ,divide a body as often as you please1 'tis still body4 ,place it in any figure1 nothing ever results but figure1 or the relation of parts4 ,move it in any manner1 you still find motion or a change of relation4 ',tis absurd to imagine that motion in a circle1 for instance1 should be nothing but merely motion in a circle2 while motion in another direction1 as in an ellipse1 should also be a passion or moral reflection2 that the shocking of two globular particles should become a sensation of pain1 and that the meeting of the triangular ones should afford a pleasure4 ,now as these different shocks and variations and mixtures are the only changes of which matter is susceptible1 and as these never afford us any idea of thought or perception1 'tis concluded to be impossible1 that thought can ever be caused by matter4 ,few have been able to withstand the seeming evidence of this argument2 and yet nothing in the world is more easy than to refute it4 ,we need only reflect upon what has been proved at large1 that we are never sensible of any connexion between causes and effects1 and that 'tis only by our experience of their constant conjunction we can arrive at any knowledge of this relation4 ,now1 as all objects which are not contrary are susceptible of a constant conjunction1 and as no real objects are contrary1 ,i have inferred from these principles 7,part ,,iii4 #ae7 that1 to consider the matter a priori1 anything may produce anything1 and that we shall never discover a reason why any object may or may not be the cause of any other1 however great1 or however little1 the resemblance may be betwixt them4 ,this evidently destroys the precedent reasoning1 concerning the cause of thought or perception4 ,for though there appear no manner of connection betwixt motion and thought1 the case is the same with all other causes and effects4 ,place one body of a pound weight on one end of a lever1 and another body of the same weight on the other end2 you will never find in these bodies any principle of motion dependent on their distance from the centre1 more than of thought and perception4 ,if you pretend1 therefore1 to prove1 a priori1 that such a position of bodies can never cause thought1 because1 turn it which way you will1 it is nothing but a position of bodies3 you must1 by the same course of reasoning1 conclude that it can never produce motion1 since there is no more apparent connection in the one than in the other4 ,but1 as this latter conclusion is contrary to evident experience1 and as 'tis possible we may have a like experience in the operations of the mind1 and may perceive a constant conjunction of thought and motion1 you reason too hastily when1 from the mere consideration of the ideas1 you conclude that 'tis impossible motion can ever produce thought1 or a different position of parts give rise to a different passion or reflection4 ,nay1 'tis not only possible we may have such an experience1 but 'tis certain we have it2 since every one may perceive that the different dispositions of his body change his thoughts and sentiments4 ,and should it be said that this depends on the union of soul and body1 ,i would answer1 that we must separate the question concerning the substance of the mind from that concerning the cause of its thought2 and that1 confining ourselves to the latter question1 we find1 by the comparing their ideas1 that thought and motion are different from each other and by experience1 that they are constantly united2 which1 being all the circumstances that enter into the idea of cause and effect1 when applied to the operations of matter1 we may certainly conclude that motion may be1 and actually is1 the cause of thought and perception4--7,i4 pp4 #cad-caf47 ,the upshot of all this is1 that the collection of perceptions1 which constitutes the mind1 is really a system of effects1 the causes of which are to be sought in antecedent changes of the matter of the brain1 just as the collection of motions1 which we call flying1 is a system of effects1 the causes of which are to be sought in the modes of motion of the matter of the muscles of the wings4 ,hume1 however1 treats of this important topic only incidentally4 ,he seems to have had very little acquaintance even with such physiology as was current in his time4 ,at least1 the only passage of his works1 bearing on this subject1 with which ,i am acquainted1 contains nothing but a very odd version of the physiological views of ,descartes3-- ,when ,i received the relations of resemblance1 contiguity1 and causation1 as principles of union among ideas1 without examining into their causes1 'twas more in prosecution of my first maxim1 that we must in the end rest contented with experience1 than for want of something specious and plausible which ,i might have displayed on that subject4 ',twould have been easy to have made an imaginary dissection of the brain1 and have shown why1 upon our conception of any idea1 the animal spirits run into all the contiguous traces and rouse up the other ideas that are related to it4 ,but though ,i have neglected any advantage which ,i might have drawn from this topic in explaining the relations of ideas1 ,i am afraid ,i must here have recourse to it1 in order to account for the mistakes that arise from these relations4 ,i shall therefore observe1 that as the mind is endowed with the power of exciting any idea it pleases2 whenever it despatches the spirits into that region of the brain in which the idea is placed2 these spirits always excite the idea1 when they run precisely into the proper traces and rummage that cell which belongs to the idea4 ,but as their motion is seldom direct1 and naturally turns a little to the one side or to the other2 for this reason the animal spirits1 falling into the contiguous traces1 present other related ideas1 in lieu of that which the mind desired at first to survey4 ,this change we are not always sensible of2 but continuing still the same train of thought1 make use of the related idea which is presented to us and employ it in our reasonings1 as if it were the same with what we demanded4 ,this is the cause of many mistakes and sophisms in philosophy2 as will naturally be imagined1 and as it would be easy to show1 if there was occasion4--7,i4 p4 #hh47 ,perhaps it is as well for ,hume's fame that the occasion for further physiological speculations of this sort did not arise4 ,but1 while admitting the crudity of his notions and the strangeness of the language in which they are couched1 it must in justice be remembered1 that what are now known as the elements of the physiology of the nervous system were hardly dreamed of in the first half of the eighteenth century2 and1 as a further set off to ,hume's credit1 it must be noted that he grasped the fundamental truth1 that the key to the comprehension of mental operations lies in the study of the molecular changes of the nervous apparatus by which they are originated4 ,surely no one who is cognisant of the facts of the case1 nowadays1 doubts that the roots of psychology lie in the physiology of the nervous system4 ,what we call the operations of the mind are functions of the brain1 and the materials of consciousness are products of cerebral activity4 ,cabanis may have made use of crude and misleading phraseology when he said that the brain secretes thought as the liver secretes bile2 but the conception which that much-abused phrase embodies is1 nevertheless1 far more consistent with fact than the popular notion that the mind is a metaphysical entity seated in the head1 but as independent of the brain as a telegraph operator is of his instrument4 ,it is hardly necessary to point out that the doctrine just laid down is what is commonly called materialism4 ,in fact1 ,i am not sure that the adjective crass1 which appears to have a special charm for rhetorical sciolists1 would not be applied to it4 ,but it is1 nevertheless1 true that the doctrine contains nothing inconsistent with the purest idealism4 ,for1 as ,hume remarks 7as indeed ,descartes had observed long before73-- ',tis not our body we perceive when we regard our limbs and members1 but certain impressions which enter by the senses2 so that the ascribing a real and corporeal existence to these impressions1 or to their objects1 is an act of the mind as difficult to explain as that the external existence of objects which we examine at present4--7,i4 p4 #bdi47 ,therefore1 if we analyse the proposition that all mental phenomena are the effects or products of material phenomena1 all that it means amounts to this2 that whenever those states of consciousness which we call sensation1 or emotion1 or thought1 come into existence1 complete investigation will show good reason for the belief that they are preceded by those other phenomena of consciousness to which we give the names of matter and motion4 ,all material changes appear1 in the long run1 to be modes of motion2 but our knowledge of motion is nothing but that of a change in the place and order of our sensations2 just as our knowledge of matter is restricted to those feelings of which we assume it to be the cause4 ,it has already been pointed out1 that ,hume must have admitted1 and in fact does admit1 the possibility that the mind is a ,leibnitzian monad1 or a ,fichtean world-generating ,ego1 the universe of things being merely the picture produced by the evolution of the phenomena of consciousness4 ,for any demonstration that can be given to the contrary effect1 the collection of perceptions which makes up our consciousness may be an orderly phantasmagoria generated by the ,ego1 unfolding its successive scenes on the background of the abyss of nothingness2 as a firework1 which is but cunningly arranged combustibles1 grows from a spark into a coruscation1 and from a coruscation into figures1 and words1 and cascades of devouring fire1 and then vanishes into the darkness of the night4 ,on the other hand1 it must no less readily be allowed that1 for anything that can be proved to the contrary1 there may be a real something which is the cause of all our impressions2 that sensations1 though not likenesses1 are symbols of that something2 and that the part of that something1 which we call the nervous system1 is an apparatus for supplying us with a sort of algebra of fact1 based on those symbols4 ,a brain may be the machinery by which the material universe becomes conscious of itself4 ,but it is important to notice that1 even if this conception of the universe and of the relation of consciousness to its other components should be true1 we should1 nevertheless1 be still bound by the limits of thought1 still unable to refute the arguments of pure idealism4 ,the more completely the materialistic position is admitted1 the easier is it to show that the idealistic position is unassailable1 if the idealist confines himself within the limits of positive knowledge4 ,hume deals with the questions whether all our ideas are derived from experience1 or whether1 on the contrary1 more or fewer of them are innate1 which so much exercised the mind of ,locke1 after a somewhat summary fashion1 in a note to the second section of the ,inquiry3-- ,it is probable that no more was meant by those who denied innate ideas1 than that all ideas were copies of our impressions2 though it must be confessed that the terms which they employed were not chosen with such caution1 nor so exactly defined1 as to prevent all mistakes about their doctrine4 ,for what is meant by innate8 ,if innate be equivalent to natural1 then all the perceptions and ideas of the mind must be allowed to be innate or natural1 in whatever sense we take the latter word1 whether in opposition to what is uncommon1 artificial1 or miraculous4 ,if by innate be meant contemporary with our birth1 the dispute seems to be frivolous2 nor is it worth while to inquire at what time thinking begins1 whether before1 at1 or after our birth4 ,again1 the word idea seems to be commonly taken in a very loose sense by ,locke and others1 as standing for any of our perceptions1 our sensations and passions1 as well as thoughts4 ,now in this sense ,i should desire to know what can be meant by asserting that self-love1 or resentment of injuries1 or the passion between the sexes is not innate8 ,but admitting these terms1 impressions and ideas1 in the sense above explained1 and understanding by innate what is original or copied from no precedent perception1 then we may assert that all our impressions are innate1 and our ideas not innate4 ,it would seem that ,hume did not think it worth while to acquire a comprehension of the real points at issue in the controversy which he thus carelessly dismisses4 ,yet ,descartes has defined what he means by innate ideas with so much precision1 that misconception ought to have been impossible4 ,he says that1 when he speaks of an idea being innate1 he means that it exists potentially in the mind1 before it is actually called into existence by whatever is its appropriate exciting cause4 ,i have never either thought or said1 he writes1 that the mind has any need of innate ideas ides naturelles which are anything distinct from its faculty of thinking4 ,but it is true that observing that there are certain thoughts which arise neither from external objects nor from the determination of my will1 but only from my faculty of thinking2 in order to mark the difference between the ideas or the notions which are the forms of these thoughts1 and to distinguish them from the others1 which may be called extraneous or voluntary1 ,i have called them innate4 ,but ,i have used this term in the same sense as when we say that generosity is innate in certain families2 or that certain maladies1 such as gout or gravel1 are innate in others2 not that children born in these families are troubled with such diseases in their mother's womb2 but because they are born with the disposition or the faculty of contracting them4#bb ,his troublesome disciple1 ,regius1 having asserted that all our ideas come from observation or tradition1 ,descartes remarks3-- ,so thoroughly erroneous is this assertion1 that whoever has a proper comprehension of the action of our senses1 and understands precisely the nature of that which is transmitted by them to our thinking faculty1 will rather affirm that no ideas of things1 such as are formed in thought1 are brought to us by the senses1 so that there is nothing in our ideas which is other than innate in the mind 7naturel l'esprit71 or in the faculty of thinking1 if only certain circumstances are excepted1 which belong only to experience4 ,for example1 it is experience alone which causes us to judge that such and such ideas1 now present in our minds1 are related to certain things which are external to us2 not in truth1 that they have been sent into our mind by these things1 such as they are1 by the organs of the senses2 but because these organs have transmitted something which has occasioned the mind1 in virtue of its innate power1 to form them at this time rather than at another4444 ,nothing passes from external objects to the soul except certain motions of matter 7mouvemens corporels71 but neither these motions1 nor the figures which they produce1 are conceived by us as they exist in the sensory organs1 as ,i have fully explained in my ,dioptrics2 whence it follows that even the ideas of motion and of figures are innate 7naturellement en nous74 ,and1 fortiori1 the ideas of pain1 of colours1 of sounds1 and of all similar things must be innate1 in order that the mind may represent them to itself1 on the occasion of certain motions of matter with which they have no resemblance4 ,whoever denies what is1 in fact1 an inconceivable proposition1 that sensations pass1 as such1 from the external world into the mind1 must admit the conclusion here laid down by ,descartes1 that1 strictly speaking1 sensations1 and fortiori1 all the other contents of the mind1 are innate4 ,or1 to state the matter in accordance with the views previously expounded1 that they are products of the inherent properties of the thinking organ1 in which they lie potentially1 before they are called into existence by their appropriate causes4 ,but if all the contents of the mind are innate1 what is meant by experience8 ,it is the conversion1 by unknown causes1 of these innate potentialities into actual existences4 ,the organ of thought1 prior to experience1 may be compared to an untouched piano1 in which it may be properly said that music is innate1 inasmuch as its mechanism contains1 potentially1 so many octaves of musical notes4 ,the unknown cause of sensation which ,descartes calls the je ne sais quoi dans les objets or choses telles qu'elles sont1 and ,kant the ,noumenon or ,ding an sich1 is represented by the musician2 who1 by touching the keys1 converts the potentiality of the mechanism into actual sounds4 ,a note so produced is the equivalent of a single experience4 ,all the melodies and harmonies that proceed from the piano depend upon the action of the musician upon the keys4 ,there is no internal mechanism which1 when certain keys are struck1 gives rise to an accompaniment of which the musician is only indirectly the cause4 ,according to ,descartes1 however--and this is what is generally fixed upon as the essence of his doctrine of innate ideas--the mind possesses such an internal mechanism1 by which certain classes of thoughts are generated1 on the occasion of certain experiences4 ,such thoughts are innate1 just as sensations are innate2 they are not copies of sensations1 any more than sensations are copies of motions2 they are invariably generated in the mind1 when certain experiences arise in it1 just as sensations are invariably generated when certain bodily motions take place2 they are universal1 inasmuch as they arise under the same conditions in all men2 they are necessary1 because their genesis under these conditions is invariable4 ,these innate thoughts are what ,descartes terms vrits or truths3 that is beliefs--and his notions respecting them are plainly set forth in a passage of the ,principes4 ,thus far ,i have discussed that which we know as things3 it remains that ,i should speak of that which we know as truths4 ,for example1 when we think that it is impossible to make anything out of nothing1 we do not imagine that this proposition is a thing which exists1 or a property of something1 but we take it for a certain eternal truth1 which has its seat in the mind 7pense71 and is called a common notion or an axiom4 ,similarly1 when we affirm that it is impossible that one and the same thing should exist and not exist at the same time2 that that which has been created should not have been created2 that he who thinks must exist while he thinks2 and a number of other like propositions2 these are only truths1 and not things which exist outside our thoughts4 ,and there is such a number of these that it would be wearisome to enumerate them3 nor is it necessary to do so1 because we cannot fail to know them when the occasion of thinking about them presents itself1 and we are not blinded by any prejudices4 ,it would appear that ,locke was not more familiar with ,descartes' writings than ,hume seems to have been2 for1 viewed in relation to the passages just cited1 the arguments adduced in his famous polemic against innate ideas are totally irrelevant4 ,it has been shown that ,hume practically1 if not in so many words1 admits the justice of ,descartes' assertion that1 strictly speaking1 sensations are innate2 that is to say1 that they are the product of the reaction of the organ of the mind on the stimulus of an unknown cause1 which is ,descartes' je ne sais quoi4 ,therefore1 the difference between ,descartes' opinion and that of ,hume resolves itself into this3 ,given sensation-experiences1 can all the contents of consciousness be derived from the collocation and metamorphosis of these experiences8 ,or1 are new elements of consciousness1 products of an innate potentiality distinct from sensibility1 added to these8 ,hume affirms the former position1 ,descartes the latter4 ,if the analysis of the phenomena of consciousness given in the preceding pages is correct1 ,hume is in error2 while the father of modern philosophy had a truer insight1 though he overstated the case4 ,for want of sufficiently searching psychological investigations1 ,descartes was led to suppose that innumerable ideas1 the evolution of which in the course of experience can be demonstrated1 were direct or innate products of the thinking faculty4 ,as has been already pointed out1 it is the great merit of ,kant that he started afresh on the track indicated by ,descartes1 and steadily upheld the doctrine of the existence of elements of consciousness1 which are neither sense-experiences nor any modifications of them4 ,we may demur to the expression that space and time are forms of sensory intuition2 but it imperfectly represents the great fact that co-existence and succession are mental phenomena not given in the mere sense experience4#bc ,,footnotes3 #bb ,remarques de ,ren ,descartes sur un certain placard imprim aux ,pays ,bas vers la fin de l'anne1 #afdg4--;,descartes1 ,o,euvres4 ,ed4 ,cousin1 x4 p4 #ga4 #bc ,wir knnen uns keinen ,gegenstand denken1 ohne durch ,kategorien2 wir knnen keinen gedachten ,gegenstand erkennen1 ohne durch ,anschauungen1 die jenen ,begriffen entsprechen4 ,nun sind alle unsere ,anschauungen sinnlich1 und diese ,erkenntniss1 so fern der ,gegenstand derselben gegeben ist1 ist empirisch4 ,empirische ,erkenntniss aber ist ,erfahrung4 ,folglich ist uns keine ,erkenntniss a priori mglich1 als lediglich von ,gegenstnden mglicher ,erfahrung4 ,aber diese ,erkenntniss1 die bloss auf ,gegenstnde der ,erfahrung eingeschrnkt ist1 ist darum nicht alle von der ,erfahrung entlehnt1 sondern was sowohl die reinen ,anschauungen1 als die reinen ,verstandesbegriffe betrifft1 so sind sie ,elemente der ,erkenntniss die in uns a priori angetroffen werden4--,kritik der reinen ,vernunft4 ,elementarlehre1 p4 #ace4 ,without a glossary explanatory of ,kant's terminology1 this passage would be hardly intelligible in a translation2 but it may be paraphrased thus3 ,all knowledge is founded upon experiences of sensation1 but it is not all derived from those experiences2 inasmuch as the impressions of relation 7reine ,anschauungen2 reine ,verstandesbegriffe7 have a potential or priori existence in us1 and by their addition to sense-experiences1 constitute knowledge4 ,,chapter ,,iv4 ,,the ,,classification ,,and ,,the ,,nomenclature ,,of ,,mental ,,operations4 ,if1 as has been set forth in the preceding chapter1 all mental states are effects of physical causes1 it follows that what are called mental faculties and operations are1 properly speaking1 cerebral functions1 allotted to definite1 though not yet precisely assignable1 parts of the brain4 ,these functions appear to be reducible to three groups1 namely3 ,sensation1 ,correlation1 and ,ideation4 ,the organs of the functions of sensation and correlation are those portions of the cerebral substance1 the molecular changes of which give rise to impressions of sensation and impressions of relation4 ,the changes in the nervous matter which bring about the effects which we call its functions1 follow upon some kind of stimulus1 and rapidly reaching their maximum1 as rapidly die away4 ,the effect of the irritation of a nerve-fibre on the cerebral substance with which it is connected may be compared to the pulling of a long bell-wire4 ,the impulse takes a little time to reach the bell2 the bell rings and then becomes quiescent1 until another pull is given4 ,so1 in the brain1 every sensation is the ring of a cerebral particle1 the effect of a momentary impulse sent along a nerve-fibre4 ,if there were a complete likeness between the two terms of this very rough and ready comparison1 it is obvious that there could be no such thing as memory4 ,a bell records no audible sign of having been rung five minutes ago1 and the activity of a sensigenous cerebral particle might similarly leave no trace4 ,under these circumstances1 again1 it would seem that the only impressions of relation which could arise would be those of co-existence and of similarity4 ,for succession implies memory of an antecedent state4#bd ,but the special peculiarity of the cerebral apparatus is1 that any given function which has once been performed is very easily set a-going again1 by causes more or less different from those to which it owed its origin4 ,of the mechanism of this generation of images of impressions or ideas 7in ,hume's sense71 which may be termed ,ideation1 we know nothing at present1 though the fact and its results are familiar enough4 ,during our waking1 and many of our sleeping1 hours1 in fact1 the function of ideation is in continual1 if not continuous1 activity4 ,trains of thought1 as we call them1 succeed one another without intermission1 even when the starting of new trains by fresh sense-impressions is as far as possible prevented4 ,the rapidity and the intensity of this ideational process are obviously dependent upon physiological conditions4 ,the widest differences in these respects are constitutional in men of different temperaments2 and are observable in oneself1 under varying conditions of hunger and repletion1 fatigue and freshness1 calmness and emotional excitement4 ,the influence of diet on dreams2 of stimulants upon the fulness and the velocity of the stream of thought2 the delirious phantasms generated by disease1 by hashish1 or by alcohol2 will occur to every one as examples of the marvellous sensitiveness of the apparatus of ideation to purely physical influences4 ,the succession of mental states in ideation is not fortuitous1 but follows the law of association1 which may be stated thus3 that every idea tends to be followed by some other idea which is associated with the first1 or its impression1 by a relation of succession1 of contiguity1 or of likeness4 ,thus the idea of the word horse just now presented itself to my mind1 and was followed in quick succession by the ideas of four legs1 hoofs1 teeth1 rider1 saddle1 racing1 cheating2 all of which ideas are connected in my experience with the impression1 or the idea1 of a horse and with one another1 by the relations of contiguity and succession4 ,no great attention to what passes in the mind is needful to prove that our trains of thought are neither to be arrested1 nor even permanently controlled1 by our desires or emotions4 ,nevertheless they are largely influenced by them4 ,in the presence of a strong desire1 or emotion1 the stream of thought no longer flows on in a straight course1 but seems1 as it were1 to eddy round the idea of that which is the object of the emotion4 ,every one who has eaten his bread in sorrow knows how strangely the current of ideas whirls about the conception of the object of regret or remorse as a centre2 every now and then1 indeed1 breaking away into the new tracks suggested by passing associations1 but still returning to the central thought4 ,few can have been so happy as to have escaped the social bore1 whose pet notion is certain to crop up whatever topic is started2 while the fixed idea of the monomaniac is but the extreme form of the same phenomenon4 ,and as1 on the one hand1 it is so hard to drive away the thought we would fain be rid of2 so1 upon the other1 the pleasant imaginations which we would so gladly retain are1 sooner or later1 jostled away by the crowd of claimants for birth into the world of consciousness2 which hover as a sort of psychical possibilities1 or inverse ghosts1 the bodily presentments of spiritual phenomena to be1 in the limbo of the brain4 ,in that form of desire which is called attention1 the train of thought1 held fast1 for a time1 in the desired direction1 seems ever striving to get on to another line--and the junctions and sidings are so multitudinous6 ,the constituents of trains of ideas may be grouped in various ways4 ,hume says3-- ,we find1 by experience1 that when any impression has been present in the mind1 it again makes its appearance there as an idea1 and this it may do in two different ways3 either when1 on its new appearance1 it retains a considerable degree of its first vivacity1 and is somewhat intermediate between an impression and an idea2 or when it entirely loses that vivacity1 and is a perfect idea4 ,the faculty by which we repeat our impressions in the first manner1 is called the memory1 and the other the imagination4--7,i4 pp4 #bc1 #bd47 ,and he considers that the only difference between ideas of imagination and those of memory1 except the superior vivacity of the latter1 lies in the fact that those of memory preserve the original order of the impressions from which they are derived1 while the imagination is free to transpose and change its ideas4 ,the latter statement of the difference between memory and imagination is less open to cavil than the former1 though by no means unassailable4 ,the special characteristic of a memory surely is not its vividness2 but that it is a complex idea1 in which the idea of that which is remembered is related by co-existence with other ideas1 and by antecedence with present impressions4 ,if ,i say ,i remember ,a4 ,b41 the chance acquaintance of ten years ago1 it is not because my idea of ,a4 ,b4 is very vivid--on the contrary1 it is extremely faint--but because that idea is associated with ideas of impressions co-existent with those which ,i call ,a4 ,b42 and that all these are at the end of the long series of ideas1 which represent that much past time4 ,in truth ,i have a much more vivid idea of ,mr4 ,pickwick1 or of ,colonel ,newcome1 than ,i have of ,a4 ,b42 but1 associated with the ideas of these persons1 ,i have no idea of their having ever been derived from the world of impressions2 and so they are relegated to the world of imagination4 ,on the other hand1 the characteristic of an imagination may properly be said to lie not in its intensity1 but in the fact that1 as ,hume puts it1 the arrangement1 or the relations1 of the ideas are different from those in which the impressions1 whence these ideas are derived1 occurred2 or in other words1 that the thing imagined has not happened4 ,in popular usage1 however1 imagination is frequently employed for simple memory--,in imagination ,i was back in the old times4 ,it is a curious omission on ,hume's part that1 while thus dwelling on two classes of ideas1 ,memories and ,imaginations1 he has not1 at the same time1 taken notice of a third group1 of no small importance1 which are as different from imaginations as memories are2 though1 like the latter1 they are often confounded with pure imaginations in general speech4 ,these are the ideas of expectation1 or as they may be called for the sake of brevity1 ,expectations2 which differ from simple imaginations in being associated with the idea of the existence of corresponding impressions1 in the future1 just as memories contain the idea of the existence of the corresponding impressions in the past4 ,the ideas belonging to two of the three groups enumerated3 namely1 memories and expectations1 present some features1 of particular interest4 ,and first1 with respect to memories4 ,in ,hume's words1 all simple ideas are copies of simple impressions4 ,the idea of a single sensation is a faint1 but accurate1 image of that sensation2 the idea of a relation is a reproduction of the feeling of co-existence1 of succession1 or of similarity4 ,but1 when complex impressions or complex ideas are reproduced as memories1 it is probable that the copies never give all the details of the originals with perfect accuracy1 and it is certain that they rarely do so4 ,no one possesses a memory so good1 that if he has only once observed a natural object1 a second inspection does not show him something that he has forgotten4 ,almost all1 if not all1 our memories are therefore sketches1 rather than portraits1 of the originals--the salient features are obvious1 while the subordinate characters are obscure or unrepresented4 ,now1 when several complex impressions which are more or less different from one another--let us say that out of ten impressions in each1 six are the same in all1 and four are different from all the rest--are successively presented to the mind1 it is easy to see what must be the nature of the result4 ,the repetition of the six similar impressions will strengthen the six corresponding elements of the complex idea1 which will therefore acquire greater vividness2 while the four differing impressions of each will not only acquire no greater strength than they had at first1 but1 in accordance with the law of association1 they will all tend to appear at once1 and will thus neutralise one another4 ,this mental operation may be rendered comprehensible by considering what takes place in the formation of compound photographs--when the images of the faces of six sitters1 for example1 are each received on the same photographic plate1 for a sixth of the time requisite to take one portrait4 ,the final result is that all those points in which the six faces agree are brought out strongly1 while all those in which they differ are left vague2 and thus what may be termed a generic portrait of the six1 in contradistinction to a specific portrait of any one1 is produced4 ,thus our ideas of single complex impressions are incomplete in one way1 and those of numerous1 more or less similar1 complex impressions are incomplete in another way2 that is to say1 they are generic1 not specific4 ,and hence it follows1 that our ideas of the impressions in question are not1 in the strict sense of the word1 copies of those impressions2 while1 at the same time1 they may exist in the mind independently of language4 ,the generic ideas which are formed from several similar1 but not identical1 complex experiences are what are commonly called abstract or general ideas2 and ,berkeley endeavoured to prove that all general ideas are nothing but particular ideas annexed to a certain term1 which gives them a more extensive signification1 and makes them recall1 upon occasion1 other individuals which are similar to them4 ,hume says that he regards this as one of the greatest and the most valuable discoveries that has been made of late years in the republic of letters1 and endeavours to confirm it in such a manner that it shall be put beyond all doubt and controversy4 ,i may venture to express a doubt whether he has succeeded in his object2 but the subject is an abstruse one2 and ,i must content myself with the remark1 that though ,berkeley's view appears to be largely applicable to such general ideas as are formed after language has been acquired1 and to all the more abstract sort of conceptions1 yet that general ideas of sensible objects may nevertheless be produced in the way indicated1 and may exist independently of language4 ,in dreams1 one sees houses1 trees and other objects1 which are perfectly recognisable as such1 but which remind one of the actual objects as seen out of the corner of the eye1 or of the pictures thrown by a badly-focussed magic lantern4 ,a man addresses us who is like a figure seen by twilight2 or we travel through countries where every feature of the scenery is vague2 the outlines of the hills are ill-marked1 and the rivers have no defined banks4 ,they are1 in short1 generic ideas of many past impressions of men1 hills1 and rivers4 ,an anatomist who occupies himself intently with the examination of several specimens of some new kind of animal1 in course of time acquires so vivid a conception of its form and structure1 that the idea may take visible shape and become a sort of waking dream4 ,but the figure which thus presents itself is generic1 not specific4 ,it is no copy of any one specimen1 but1 more or less1 a mean of the series2 and there seems no reason to doubt that the minds of children before they learn to speak1 and of deaf mutes1 are peopled with similarly generated generic ideas of sensible objects4 ,it has been seen that a memory is a complex idea made up of at least two constituents4 ,in the first place there is the idea of an object2 and secondly1 there is the idea of the relation of antecedence between that object and some present objects4 ,to say that one has a recollection of a given event and to express the belief that it happened1 are two ways of giving an account of one and the same mental fact4 ,but the former mode of stating the fact of memory is preferable1 at present1 because it certainly does not presuppose the existence of language in the mind of the rememberer2 while it may be said that the latter does4 ,it is perfectly possible to have the idea of an event ,a1 and of the events ,b1 ,c1 ,d1 which came between it and the present state ,e1 as mere mental pictures4 ,it is hardly to be doubted that children have very distinct memories long before they can speak2 and we believe that such is the case because they act upon their memories4 ,but1 if they act upon their memories1 they to all intents and purposes believe their memories4 ,in other words1 though1 being devoid of language1 the child cannot frame a proposition expressive of belief2 cannot say sugar-plum was sweet2 yet the psychical operation of which that proposition is merely the verbal expression1 is perfectly effected4 ,the experience of the co-existence of sweetness with sugar has produced a state of mind which bears the same relation to a verbal proposition1 as the natural disposition to produce a given idea1 assumed to exist by ,descartes as an innate idea would bear to that idea put into words4 ,the fact that the beliefs of memory precede the use of language1 and therefore are originally purely instinctive1 and independent of any rational justification1 should have been of great importance to ,hume1 from its bearing upon his theory of causation2 and it is curious that he has not adverted to it1 but always takes the trustworthiness of memories for granted4 ,it may be worth while briefly to make good the omission4 ,that ,i was in pain1 yesterday1 is as certain to me as any matter of fact can be2 by no effort of the imagination is it possible for me really to entertain the contrary belief4 ,at the same time1 ,i am bound to admit1 that the whole foundation for my belief is the fact1 that the idea of pain is indissolubly associated in my mind with the idea of that much past time4 ,any one who will be at the trouble may provide himself with hundreds of examples to the same effect4 ,this and similar observations are important under another aspect4 ,they prove that the idea of even a single strong impression may be so powerfully associated with that of a certain time1 as to originate a belief of which the contrary is inconceivable1 and which may therefore be properly said to be necessary4 ,a single weak1 or moderately strong1 impression may not be represented by any memory4 ,but this defect of weak experiences may be compensated by their repetition2 and what ,hume means by custom or habit is simply the repetition of experiences4 wherever the repetition of any particular act or operation produces a propensity to renew the same act or operation1 without being impelled by any reasoning or process of the understanding1 we always say that this propensity is the effect of ,custom4 ,by employing that word1 we pretend not to have given the ultimate reason of such a propensity4 ,we only point out a principle of human nature which is universally acknowledged1 and which is well known by its effects4--7,,iv4 p4 #eb47 ,it has been shown that an expectation is a complex idea which1 like a memory1 is made up of two constituents4 ,the one is the idea of an object1 the other is the idea of a relation of sequence between that object and some present object2 and the reasoning which applied to memories applies to expectations4 ,to have an expectation#be of a given event1 and to believe that it will happen1 are only two modes of stating the same fact4 ,again1 just in the same way as we call a memory1 put into words1 a belief1 so we give the same name to an expectation in like clothing4 ,and the fact already cited1 that a child before it can speak acts upon its memories1 is good evidence that it forms expectations4 ,the infant who knows the meaning neither of sugar-plum nor of sweet1 nevertheless is in full possession of that complex idea1 which1 when he has learned to employ language1 will take the form of the verbal proposition1 ,a sugar-plum will be sweet4 ,thus1 beliefs of expectation1 or at any rate their potentialities1 are1 as much as those of memory1 antecedent to speech1 and are as incapable of justification by any logical process4 ,in fact1 expectations are but memories inverted4 ,the association which is the foundation of expectation must exist as a memory before it can play its part4 ,as ,hume says1-- 444 it is certain we here advance a very intelligible proposition at least1 if not a true one1 when we assert that after the constant conjunction of two objects1 heat and flame1 for instance1 weight and solidity1 we are determined by custom alone to expect the one from the appearance of the other4 ,this hypothesis seems even the only one which explains the difficulty why we draw from a thousand instances1 an inference which we are not able to draw from one instance1 that is in no respect different from them4444 ,custom1 then1 is the great guide of human life4 ,it is that principle alone which renders our experience useful to us1 and makes us expect1 for the future1 a similar train of events with those which have appeared in the past4444 ,all belief of matter-of-fact or real existence is derived merely from some object present to the memory or senses1 and a customary conjunction between that and some other object2 or in other words1 having found1 in many instances1 that any two kinds of objects1 flame and heat1 snow and cold1 have always been conjoined together3 if flame or snow be presented anew to the senses1 the mind is carried by custom to expect heat or cold1 and to believe that such a quality does exist1 and will discover itself upon a nearer approach4 ,this belief is the necessary result of placing the mind in such circumstances4 ,it is an operation of the soul1 when we are so situated1 as unavoidable as to feel the passion of love1 when we receive benefits1 or hatred1 when we meet with injuries4 ,all these operations are a species of natural instincts1 which no reasoning or process of the thought and understanding is able either to produce or to prevent4--7,,iv4 pp4 #eb-ef47 ,the only comment that appears needful here is1 that ,hume has attached somewhat too exclusive a weight to that repetition of experiences to which alone the term custom can be properly applied4 ,the proverb says that a burnt child dreads the fire2 and any one who will make the experiment will find1 that one burning is quite sufficient to establish an indissoluble belief that contact with fire and pain go together4 ,as a sort of inverted memory1 expectation follows the same laws2 hence1 while a belief of expectation is1 in most cases1 as ,hume truly says1 established by custom1 or the repetition of weak impressions1 it may quite well be based upon a single strong experience4 ,in the absence of language1 a specific memory cannot be strengthened by repetition4 ,it is obvious that that which has happened cannot happen again1 with the same collateral associations of co-existence and succession4 ,but1 memories of the co-existence and succession of impressions are capable of being indefinitely strengthened by the recurrence of similar impressions1 in the same order1 even though the collateral associations are totally different2 in fact1 the ideas of these impressions become generic4 ,if ,i recollect that a piece of ice was cold yesterday1 nothing can strengthen the recollection of that particular fact2 on the contrary1 it may grow weaker1 in the absence of any record of it4 ,but if ,i touch ice to-day and again find it cold1 the association is repeated1 and the memory of it becomes stronger4 ,and1 by this very simple process of repetition of experience1 it has become utterly impossible for us to think of having handled ice without thinking of its coldness4 ,but1 that which is1 under the one aspect1 the strengthening of a memory1 is1 under the other1 the intensification of an expectation4 ,not only can we not think of having touched ice1 without feeling cold1 but we cannot think of touching ice1 in the future1 without expecting to feel cold4 ,an expectation so strong that it cannot be changed1 or abolished1 may thus be generated out of repeated experiences4 ,and it is important to note that such expectations may be formed quite unconsciously4 ,in my dressing room1 a certain can is usually kept full of water1 and ,i am in the habit of lifting it to pour out water for washing4 ,sometimes the servant has forgotten to fill it1 and then ,i find that1 when ,i take hold of the handle1 the can goes up with a jerk4 ,long association has1 in fact1 led me to expect the can to have a considerable weight2 and1 quite unawares1 my muscular effort is adjusted to the expectation4 ,the process of strengthening generic memories of succession1 and1 at the same time1 intensifying expectations of succession1 is what is commonly called verification4 ,the impression ,b has frequently been observed to follow the impression ,a4 ,the association thus produced is represented as the memory1 ,a - ,b4 ,when the impression ,a appears again1 the idea of ,b follows1 associated with that of the immediate appearance of the impression ,b4 ,if the impression ,b does appear1 the expectation is said to be verified2 while the memory ,a - ,b is strengthened1 and gives rise in turn to a stronger expectation4 ,and repeated verification may render that expectation so strong that its non-verification is inconceivable4 ,,footnotes3 #bd ,it is not worth while1 for the present purpose1 to consider whether1 as all nervous action occupies a sensible time1 the duration of one impression might not overlap that of the impression which follows it1 in the case supposed4 #be ,we give no name to faint memories2 but expectations of like character play so large a part in human affairs that they1 together with the associated emotions of pleasure and pain1 are distinguished as hopes or fears4 ,,chapter ,v4 ,,the ,,mental ,,phenomena ,,of ,,animals4 ,in the course of the preceding chapters1 attention has been more than once called to the fact1 that the elements of consciousness and the operations of the mental faculties1 under discussion1 exist independently of and antecedent to1 the existence of language4 ,if any weight is to be attached to arguments from analogy1 there is overwhelming evidence in favour of the belief that children1 before they can speak1 and deaf mutes1 possess the feelings to which those who have acquired the faculty of speech apply the name of sensations2 that they have the feelings of relation2 that trains of ideas pass through their minds2 that generic ideas are formed from specific ones2 and1 that among these1 ideas of memory and expectation occupy a most important place1 inasmuch as1 in their quality of potential beliefs1 they furnish the grounds of action4 ,this conclusion1 in truth1 is one of those which1 though they cannot be demonstrated1 are never doubted2 and1 since it is highly probable and cannot be disproved1 we are quite safe in accepting it1 as1 at any rate1 a good working hypothesis4 ,but1 if we accept it1 we must extend it to a much wider assemblage of living beings4 ,whatever cogency is attached to the arguments in favour of the occurrence of all the fundamental phenomena of mind in young children and deaf mutes1 an equal force must be allowed to appertain to those which may be adduced to prove that the higher animals have minds4 ,we must admit that ,hume does not express himself too strongly when he says-- no truth appears to me more evident1 than that the beasts are endowed with thought and reason as well as men4 ,the arguments are in this case so obvious1 that they never escape the most stupid and ignorant4--7,i4 p4 #bcb47 ,in fact1 this is one of the few cases in which the conviction which forces itself upon the stupid and the ignorant1 is fortified by the reasonings of the intelligent1 and has its foundation deepened by every increase of knowledge4 ,it is not merely that the observation of the actions of animals almost irresistibly suggests the attribution to them of mental states1 such as those which accompany corresponding actions in men4 ,the minute comparison which has been instituted by anatomists and physiologists between the organs which we know to constitute the apparatus of thought in man1 and the corresponding organs in brutes1 has demonstrated the existence of the closest similarity between the two1 not only in structure1 as far as the microscope will carry us1 but in function1 as far as functions are determinable by experiment4 ,there is no question in the mind of any one acquainted with the facts that1 so far as observation and experiment can take us1 the structure and the functions of the nervous system are fundamentally the same in an ape1 or in a dog1 and in a man4 ,and the suggestion that we must stop at the exact point at which direct proof fails us2 and refuse to believe that the similarity which extends so far stretches yet further1 is no better than a quibble4 ,robinson ,crusoe did not feel bound to conclude1 from the single human footprint which he saw in the sand1 that the maker of the impression had only one leg4 ,structure for structure1 down to the minutest microscopical details1 the eye1 the ear1 the olfactory organs1 the nerves1 the spinal cord1 the brain of an ape1 or of a dog1 correspond with the same organs in the human subject4 ,cut a nerve1 and the evidence of paralysis1 or of insensibility1 is the same in the two cases2 apply pressure to the brain1 or administer a narcotic1 and the signs of intelligence disappear in the one as in the other4 ,whatever reason we have for believing that the changes which take place in the normal cerebral substance of man give rise to states of consciousness1 the same reason exists for the belief that the modes of motion of the cerebral substance of an ape1 or of a dog1 produce like effects4 ,a dog acts as if he had all the different kinds of impressions of sensation of which each of us is cognisant4 ,moreover1 he governs his movements exactly as if he had the feelings of distance1 form1 succession1 likeness1 and unlikeness1 with which we are familiar1 or as if the impressions of relation were generated in his mind as they are in our own4 ,sleeping dogs frequently appear to dream4 ,if they do1 it must be admitted that ideation goes on in them while they are asleep2 and1 in that case1 there is no reason to doubt that they are conscious of trains of ideas in their waking state4 ,further1 that dogs1 if they possess ideas at all1 have memories and expectations1 and those potential beliefs of which these states are the foundation1 can hardly be doubted by any one who is conversant with their ways4 ,finally1 there would appear to be no valid argument against the supposition that dogs form generic ideas of sensible objects4 ,one of the most curious peculiarities of the dog mind is its inherent snobbishness1 shown by the regard paid to external respectability4 ,the dog who barks furiously at a beggar will let a well-dressed man pass him without opposition4 ,has he not then a generic idea of rags and dirt associated with the idea of aversion1 and that of sleek broadcloth associated with the idea of liking8 ,in short1 it seems hard to assign any good reason for denying to the higher animals any mental state1 or process1 in which the employment of the vocal or visual symbols of which language is composed is not involved2 and comparative psychology confirms the position in relation to the rest of the animal world assigned to man by comparative anatomy4 ,as comparative anatomy is easily able to show that1 physically1 man is but the last term of a long series of forms1 which lead1 by slow gradations1 from the highest mammal to the almost formless speck of living protoplasm1 which lies on the shadowy boundary between animal and vegetable life2 so1 comparative psychology1 though but a young science1 and far short of her elder sister's growth1 points to the same conclusion4 ,in the absence of a distinct nervous system1 we have no right to look for its product1 consciousness2 and1 even in those forms of animal life in which the nervous apparatus has reached no higher degree of development1 than that exhibited by the system of the spinal cord and the foundation of the brain in ourselves1 the argument from analogy leaves the assumption of the existence of any form of consciousness unsupported4 ,with the super-addition of a nervous apparatus corresponding with the cerebrum in ourselves1 it is allowable to suppose the appearance of the simplest states of consciousness1 or the sensations2 and it is conceivable that these may at first exist1 without any power of reproducing them1 as memories2 and1 consequently1 without ideation4 ,still higher1 an apparatus of correlation may be superadded1 until1 as all these organs become more developed1 the condition of the highest speechless animals is attained4 ,it is a remarkable example of ,hume's sagacity that he perceived the importance of a branch of science which1 even now1 can hardly be said to exist2 and that1 in a remarkable passage1 he sketches in bold outlines the chief features of comparative psychology4 444 any theory1 by which we explain the operations of the understanding1 or the origin and connexion of the passions in man1 will acquire additional authority if we find that the same theory is requisite to explain the same phenomena in all other animals4 ,we shall make trial of this with regard to the hypothesis by which we have1 in the foregoing discourse1 endeavoured to account for all experimental reasonings2 and it is hoped that this new point of view will serve to confirm all our former observations4 ,first1 it seems evident that animals1 as well as men1 learn many things from experience1 and infer that the same events will always follow from the same causes4 ,by this principle they become acquainted with the more obvious properties of external objects1 and gradually1 from their birth1 treasure up a knowledge of the nature of fire1 water1 earth1 stones1 heights1 depths1 c41 and of the effects which result from their operation4 ,the ignorance and inexperience of the young are here plainly distinguishable from the cunning and sagacity of the old1 who have learned1 by long observation1 to avoid what hurt them1 and pursue what gave ease or pleasure4 ,a horse that has been accustomed to the field1 becomes acquainted with the proper height which he can leap1 and will never attempt what exceeds his force and ability4 ,an old greyhound will trust the more fatiguing part of the chase to the younger1 and will place himself so as to meet the hare in her doubles2 nor are the conjectures which he forms on this occasion founded on anything but his observation and experience4 ,this is still more evident from the effects of discipline and education on animals1 who1 by the proper application of rewards and punishments1 may be taught any course of action1 the most contrary to their natural instincts and propensities4 ,is it not experience which renders a dog apprehensive of pain when you menace him1 or lift up the whip to beat him8 ,is it not even experience which makes him answer to his name1 and infer from such an arbitrary sound that you mean him rather than any of his fellows1 and intend to call him1 when you pronounce it in a certain manner and with a certain tone and accent8 ,in all these cases we may observe that the animal infers some fact beyond what immediately strikes his senses2 and that this inference is altogether founded on past experience1 while the creature expects from the present object the same consequences which it has always found in its observation to result from similar objects4 ,secondly1 it is impossible that this inference of the animal can be founded on any process of argument or reasoning1 by which he concludes that like events must follow like objects1 and that the course of nature will always be regular in its operations4 ,for if there be in reality any arguments of this nature they surely lie too abstruse for the observation of such imperfect understandings2 since it may well employ the utmost care and attention of a philosophic genius to discover and observe them4 ,animals therefore are not guided in these inferences by reasoning2 neither are children2 neither are the generality of mankind in their ordinary actions and conclusions2 neither are philosophers themselves1 who1 in all the active parts of life1 are in the main the same as the vulgar1 and are governed by the same maxims4 ,nature must have provided some other principle1 of more ready and more general use and application2 nor can an operation of such immense consequence in life as that of inferring effects from causes1 be trusted to the uncertain process of reasoning and argumentation4 ,were this doubtful with regard to men1 it seems to admit of no question with regard to the brute creation2 and the conclusion being once firmly established in the one1 we have a strong presumption1 from all the rules of analogy1 that it ought to be universally admitted1 without any exception or reserve4 ,it is custom alone which engages animals1 from every object that strikes their senses1 to infer its usual attendant1 and carries their imagination from the appearance of the one to conceive the other1 in that particular manner which we denominate belief4 ,no other explication can be given of this operation in all the higher as well as lower classes of sensitive beings which fall under our notice and observation4--7,,iv4 pp4 #abb-d47 ,it will be observed that ,hume appears to contrast the inference of the animal with the process of argument or reasoning in man4 ,but it would be a complete misapprehension of his intention1 if we were to suppose1 that he thereby means to imply that there is any real difference between the two processes4 ,the inference of the animal is a potential belief of expectation2 the process of argument1 or reasoning1 in man is based upon potential beliefs of expectation1 which are formed in the man exactly in the same way as in the animal4 ,but1 in men endowed with speech1 the mental state which constitutes the potential belief is represented by a verbal proposition1 and thus becomes what all the world recognises as a belief4 ,the fallacy which ,hume combats is1 that the proposition1 or verbal representative of a belief1 has come to be regarded as a reality1 instead of as the mere symbol which it really is2 and that reasoning1 or logic1 which deals with nothing but propositions1 is supposed to be necessary in order to validate the natural fact symbolised by those propositions4 ,it is a fallacy similar to that of supposing that money is the foundation of wealth1 whereas it is only the wholly unessential symbol of property4 ,in the passage which immediately follows that just quoted1 ,hume makes admissions which might be turned to serious account against some of his own doctrines4 ,but though animals learn many parts of their knowledge from observation1 there are also many parts of it which they derive from the original hand of ,nature1 which much exceed the share of capacity they possess on ordinary occasions1 and in which they improve1 little or nothing1 by the longest practice and experience4 ,these we denominate ,,instincts1 and are so apt to admire as something very extraordinary and inexplicable by all the disquisitions of human understanding4 ,but our wonder will perhaps cease or diminish when we consider that the experimental reasoning itself1 which we possess in common with beasts1 and on which the whole conduct of life depends1 is nothing but a species of instinct or mechanical power1 that acts in us unknown to ourselves1 and in its chief operations is not directed by any such relations or comparison of ideas as are the proper objects of our intellectual faculties4 ,though the instinct be different1 yet still it is an instinct which teaches a man to avoid the fire1 as much as that which teaches a bird1 with such exactness1 the art of incubation and the whole economy and order of its nursery4--7,,iv4 pp4 #abe1 #abf47 ,the parallel here drawn between the avoidance of a fire by a man and the incubatory instinct of a bird is inexact4 ,the man avoids fire when he has had experience of the pain produced by burning2 but the bird incubates the first time it lays eggs1 and therefore before it has had any experience of incubation4 ,for the comparison to be admissible1 it would be necessary that a man should avoid fire the first time he saw it1 which is notoriously not the case4 ,the term instinct is very vague and ill-defined4 ,it is commonly employed to denote any action1 or even feeling1 which is not dictated by conscious reasoning1 whether it is1 or is not1 the result of previous experience4 ,it is instinct which leads a chicken just hatched to pick up a grain of corn2 parental love is said to be instinctive2 the drowning man who catches at a straw does it instinctively2 and the hand that accidentally touches something hot is drawn back by instinct4 ,thus instinct is made to cover everything from a simple reflex movement1 in which the organ of consciousness need not be at all implicated1 up to a complex combination of acts directed towards a definite end and accompanied by intense consciousness4 ,but this loose employment of the term instinct really accords with the nature of the thing2 for it is wholly impossible to draw any line of demarcation between reflex actions and instincts4 ,if a frog1 on the flank of which a little drop of acid has been placed1 rubs it off with the foot of the same side2 and1 if that foot be held1 performs the same operation1 at the cost of much effort1 with the other foot1 it certainly displays a curious instinct4 ,but it is no less true that the whole operation is a reflex operation of the spinal cord1 which can be performed quite as well when the brain is destroyed2 and between which and simple reflex actions there is a complete series of gradations4 ,in like manner1 when an infant takes the breast1 it is impossible to say whether the action should be rather termed instinctive or reflex4 ,what are usually called the instincts of animals are1 however1 acts of such a nature that1 if they were performed by men1 they would involve the generation of a series of ideas and of inferences from them2 and it is a curious1 and apparently an insoluble1 problem whether they are1 or are not1 accompanied by cerebral changes of the same nature as those which give rise to ideas and inferences in ourselves4 ,when a chicken picks up a grain1 for example1 are there1 firstly1 certain sensations1 accompanied by the feeling of relation between the grain and its own body2 secondly1 a desire of the grain2 thirdly1 a volition to seize it8 ,or1 are only the sensational terms of the series actually represented in consciousness8 ,the latter seems the more probable opinion1 though it must be admitted that the other alternative is possible4 ,but1 in this case1 the series of mental states which occurs is such as would be represented in language by a series of propositions1 and would afford proof positive of the existence of innate ideas1 in the ,cartesian sense4 ,indeed1 a metaphysical fowl1 brooding over the mental operations of his fully-fledged consciousness1 might appeal to the fact as proof that1 in the very first action of his life1 he assumed the existence of the ,ego and the non-,ego1 and of a relation between the two4 ,in all seriousness1 if the existence of instincts be granted1 the possibility of the existence of innate ideas1 in the most extended sense ever imagined by ,descartes1 must also be admitted4 ,in fact1 ,descartes1 as we have soon1 illustrates what he means by an innate idea1 by the analogy of hereditary diseases or hereditary mental peculiarities1 such as generosity4 ,on the other hand1 hereditary mental tendencies may justly be termed instincts2 and still more appropriately might those special proclivities1 which constitute what we call genius1 come into the same category4 ,the child who is impelled to draw as soon as it can hold a pencil2 the ,mozart who breaks out into music as early2 the boy ,bidder who worked out the most complicated sums without learning arithmetic2 the boy ,pascal who evolved ,euclid out of his own consciousness3 all these may be said to have been impelled by instinct1 as much as are the beaver and the bee4 ,and the man of genius1 is distinct in kind from the man of cleverness1 by reason of the working within him of strong innate tendencies--which cultivation may improve1 but which it can no more create1 than horticulture can make thistles bear figs4 ,the analogy between a musical instrument and the mind holds good here also4 ,art and industry may get much music1 of a sort1 out of a penny whistle2 but1 when all is done1 it has no chance against an organ4 ,the innate musical potentialities of the two are infinitely different4 ,,chapter ,,vi4 ,,language--,,propositions ,,concerning ,,necessary ,,truths4 ,though we may accept ,hume's conclusion that speechless animals think1 believe1 and reason2 yet1 it must be borne in mind1 that there is an important difference between the signification of the terms when applied to them and when applied to those animals which possess language4 ,the thoughts of the former are trains of mere feelings2 those of the latter are1 in addition1 trains of the ideas of the signs which represent feelings1 and which are called words4 ,a word1 in fact1 is a spoken or written sign1 the idea of which is1 by repetition1 so closely associated with the idea of the simple or complex feeling which it represents1 that the association becomes indissoluble4 ,no ,englishman1 for example1 can think of the word dog without immediately having the idea of the group of impressions to which that name is given2 and conversely1 the group of impressions immediately calls up the idea of the word dog4 ,the association of words with impressions and ideas is the process of naming2 and language approaches perfection1 in proportion as the shades of difference between various ideas and impressions are represented by differences in their names4 ,the names of simple impressions and ideas1 or of groups of co-existent or successive complex impressions and ideas1 considered per se1 are substantives2 as redness1 dog1 silver1 mouth2 while the names of impressions or ideas considered as parts or attributes of a complex whole1 are adjectives4 ,thus redness1 considered as part of the complex idea of a rose1 becomes the adjective red2 flesh-eater1 as part of the idea of a dog1 is represented by carnivorous2 whiteness1 as part of the idea of silver1 is white2 and so on4 ,the linguistic machinery for the expression of belief is called predication2 and1 as all beliefs express ideas of relation1 we may say that the sign of predication is the verbal symbol of a feeling of relation4 ,the words which serve to indicate predication are verbs4 ,if ,i say silver and then white1 ,i merely utter two names2 but if ,i interpose between them the verb is1 ,i express a belief in the co-existence of the feeling of whiteness with the other feelings which constitute the totality of the complex idea of silver2 in other words1 ,i predicate whiteness of silver4 ,in such a case as this1 the verb expresses predication and nothing else1 and is called a copula4 ,but1 in the great majority of verbs1 the word is the sign of a complex idea1 and the predication is expressed only by its form4 ,thus in silver shines1 the verb to shine is the sign for the feeling of brightness1 and the mark of predication lies in the form shine-s4 ,another result is brought about by the forms of verbs4 ,by slight modifications they are made to indicate that a belief1 or predication1 is a memory1 or is an expectation4 ,thus silver shone expresses a memory2 silver will shine an expectation4 ,the form of words which expresses a predication is a proposition4 ,hence1 every predication is the verbal equivalent of a belief2 and1 as every belief is either an immediate consciousness1 a memory1 or an expectation1 and as every expectation is traceable to a memory1 it follows that1 in the long run1 all propositions express either immediate states of consciousness1 or memories4 ,the proposition which predicates ,a of ,x must mean either1 that the fact is testified by my present consciousness1 as when ,i say that two colours1 visible at this moment1 resemble one another2 or that ,a is indissolubly associated with ,x in memory2 or that ,a is indissolubly associated with ,x in expectation4 ,but it has already been shown that expectation is only an expression of memory4 ,hume does not discuss the nature of language1 but so much of what remains to be said1 concerning his philosophical tenets1 turns upon the value and the origin of verbal propositions1 that this summary sketch of the relations of language to the thinking process will probably not be deemed superfluous4 ,so large an extent of the field of thought is traversed by ,hume1 in his discussion of the verbal propositions in which mankind enshrine their beliefs1 that it would be impossible to follow him throughout all the windings of his long journey1 within the limits of this essay4 ,i purpose1 therefore1 to limit myself to those propositions which concern--#a4 ,necessary ,truths2 #b4 ,the ,order of ,nature2 #c4 ,the ,soul2 #d4 ,theism2 #e4 ,the ,passions and ,volition2 #f4 ,the ,principle of ,morals4 ,hume's views respecting necessary truths1 and more particularly concerning causation1 have1 more than any other part of his teaching1 contributed to give him a prominent place in the history of philosophy4 ,all the objects of human reason and inquiry may naturally be divided into two kinds1 to wit1 relations of ideas and matters of fact4 ,of the first kind are the sciences of geometry1 algebra1 and arithmetic1 and1 in short1 every affirmation which is either intuitively or demonstratively certain4 ,that the square of the hypothenuse is equal to the square of the two sides1 is a proposition which expresses a relation between these two figures4 ,that three times five is equal to the half of thirty1 expresses a relation between these numbers4 ,propositions of this kind are discoverable by the mere operation of thought without dependence on whatever is anywhere existent in the universe4 ,though there never were a circle or a triangle in nature1 the truths demonstrated by ,euclid would for ever retain their certainty and evidence4 ,matters of fact1 which are the second objects of human reason1 are not ascertained in the same manner1 nor is an evidence of their truth1 however great1 of a like nature with the foregoing4 ,the contrary of every matter of fact is still possible1 because it can never imply a contradiction1 and is conceived by the mind with the same facility and distinctness1 as if ever so conformable to reality4 ,that the sun will not rise to-morrow1 is no less intelligible a proposition1 and implies no more contradiction1 than the affirmation1 that it will rise4 ,we should in vain1 therefore1 attempt to demonstrate its falsehood4 ,were it demonstratively false1 it would imply a contradiction1 and could never be distinctly conceived by the mind4--7,,iv4 pp4 #cb1 #cc47 ,the distinction here drawn between the truths of geometry and other kinds of truth is far less sharply indicated in the ,treatise1 but as ,hume expressly disowns any opinions on these matters but such as are expressed in the ,inquiry1 we may confine ourselves to the latter2 and it is needful to look narrowly into the propositions here laid down1 as much stress has been laid upon ,hume's admission that the truths of mathematics are intuitively and demonstratively certain2 in other words1 that they are necessary and1 in that respect1 differ from all other kinds of belief4 ,what is meant by the assertion that propositions of this kind are discoverable by the mere operation of thought without dependence on what is anywhere existent in the universe8 ,suppose that there were no such things as impressions of sight and touch anywhere in the universe1 what idea could we have even of a straight line1 much less of a triangle and of the relations between its sides8 ,the fundamental proposition of all ,hume's philosophy is that ideas are copied from impressions2 and1 therefore1 if there were no impressions of straight lines and triangles there could be no ideas of straight lines and triangles4 ,but what we mean by the universe is the sum of our actual and possible impressions4 ,so1 again1 whether our conception of number is derived from relations of impressions in space or in time1 the impressions must exist in nature1 that is1 in experience1 before their relations can be perceived4 ,form and number are mere names for certain relations between matters of fact2 unless a man had seen or felt the difference between a straight line and a crooked one1 straight and crooked would have no more meaning to him1 than red and blue to the blind4 ,the axiom1 that things which are equal to the same are equal to one another1 is only a particular case of the predication of similarity2 if there were no impressions1 it is obvious that there could be no predicates4 ,but what is an existence in the universe but an impression8 ,if what are called necessary truths are rigidly analysed1 they will be found to be of two kinds4 ,either they depend on the convention which underlies the possibility of intelligible speech1 that terms shall always have the same meaning2 or they are propositions the negation of which implies the dissolution of some association in memory or expectation1 which is in fact indissoluble2 or the denial of some fact of immediate consciousness4 ,the necessary truth ,a ,a means that the perception which is called ,a shall always be called ,a4 ,the necessary truth that two straight lines cannot inclose a space1 means that we have no memory1 and can form no expectation of their so doing4 ,the denial of the necessary truth that the thought now in my mind exists1 involves the denial of consciousness4 ,to the assertion that the evidence of matter of fact1 is not so strong as that of relations of ideas1 it may be justly replied1 that a great number of matters of fact are nothing but relations of ideas4 ,if ,i say that red is unlike blue1 ,i make an assertion concerning a relation of ideas2 but it is also matter of fact1 and the contrary proposition is inconceivable4 ,if ,i remember#bf something that happened five minutes ago1 that is matter of fact2 and1 at the same time1 it expresses a relation between the event remembered and the present time4 ,it is wholly inconceivable to me that the event did not happen1 so that my assurance respecting it is as strong as that which ,i have respecting any other necessary truth4 ,in fact1 the man is either very wise or very virtuous1 or very lucky1 perhaps all three1 who has gone through life without accumulating a store of such necessary beliefs which he would give a good deal to be able to disbelieve4 ,it would be beside the mark to discuss the matter further on the present occasion4 ,it is sufficient to point out that1 whatever may be the differences1 between mathematical and other truths1 they do not justify ,hume's statement4 ,and it is1 at any rate1 impossible to prove1 that the cogency of mathematical first principles is due to anything more than these circumstances2 that the experiences with which they are concerned are among the first which arise in the mind2 that they are so incessantly repeated as to justify us1 according to the ordinary laws of ideation1 in expecting that the associations which they form will be of extreme tenacity2 while the fact1 that the expectations based upon them are always verified1 finishes the process of welding them together4 ,thus1 if the axioms of mathematics are innate1 nature would seem to have taken unnecessary trouble2 since the ordinary process of association appears to be amply sufficient to confer upon them all the universality and necessity which they actually possess4 ,whatever needless admissions ,hume may have made respecting other necessary truths he is quite clear about the axiom of causation1 ,that whatever event has a beginning must have a cause2 whether and in what sense it is a necessary truth2 and1 that question being decided1 whence it is derived4 ,with respect to the first question1 ,hume denies that it is a necessary truth1 in the sense that we are unable to conceive the contrary4 ,the evidence by which he supports this conclusion in the ,inquiry1 however1 is not strictly relevant to the issue4 ,no object ever discovers1 by the qualities which appear to the senses1 either the cause which produced it1 or the effects which will arise from it2 nor can our reason1 unassisted by experience1 ever draw any inference concerning real existence and matter of fact4--7,,iv4 p4 #ce47 ,abundant illustrations are given of this assertion1 which indeed cannot be seriously doubted2 but it does not follow that1 because we are totally unable to say what cause preceded1 or what effect will succeed1 any event1 we do not necessarily suppose that the event had a cause and will be succeeded by an effect4 ,the scientific investigator who notes a new phenomenon may be utterly ignorant of its cause1 but he will1 without hesitation1 seek for that cause4 ,if you ask him why he does so1 he will probably say that it must have had a cause2 and thereby imply that his belief in causation is a necessary belief4 ,in the ,treatise ,hume indeed takes the bull by the horns3 444 as all distinct ideas are separable from each other1 and as the ideas of cause and effect are evidently distinct1 'twill be easy for us to conceive any object to be non-existent this moment find existent the next1 without conjoining to it the distinct idea of a cause or productive principle4--7,i4 p4 #aaa47 ,if ,hume had been content to state what he believed to be matter of fact1 and had abstained from giving superfluous reasons for that which is susceptible of being proved or disproved only by personal experience1 his position would have been stronger4 ,for it seems clear that1 on the ground of observation1 he is quite right4 ,any man who lets his fancy run riot in a waking dream1 may experience the existence at one moment1 and the non-existence at the next1 of phenomena which suggest no connexion of cause and effect4 ,not only so1 but it is notorious that1 to the unthinking mass of mankind1 nine-tenths of the facts of life do not suggest the relation of cause and effect2 and they practically deny the existence of any such relation by attributing them to chance4 ,few gamblers but would stare if they were told that the falling of a die on a particular face is as much the effect of a definite cause as the fact of its falling2 it is a proverb that the wind bloweth where it listeth2 and even thoughtful men usually receive with surprise the suggestion1 that the form of the crest of every wave that breaks1 wind-driven1 on the sea-shore1 and the direction of every particle of foam that flies before the gale1 are the exact effects of definite causes2 and1 as such1 must be capable of being determined1 deductively1 from the laws of motion and the properties of air and water4 ,so again1 there are large numbers of highly intelligent persons who rather pride themselves on their fixed belief that our volitions have no cause2 or that the will causes itself1 which is either the same thing1 or a contradiction in terms4 ,hume's argument in support of what appears to be a true proposition1 however1 is of the circular sort1 for the major premiss1 that all distinct ideas are separable in thought1 assumes the question at issue4 ,but the question whether the idea of causation is necessary1 or not1 is really of very little importance4 ,for1 to say that an idea is necessary is simply to affirm that we cannot conceive the contrary2 and the fact that we cannot conceive the contrary of any belief may be a presumption1 but is certainly no proof1 of its truth4 ,in the well-known experiment of touching a single round object1 such as a marble1 with crossed fingers1 it is utterly impossible to conceive that we have not two round objects under them2 and1 though light is undoubtedly a mere sensation arising in the brain1 it is utterly impossible to conceive that it is not outside the retina4 ,in the same way1 he who touches anything with a rod1 not only is irresistibly led to believe that the sensation of contact is at the end of the rod1 but is utterly incapable of conceiving that this sensation is really in his head4 ,yet that which is inconceivable is manifestly true in all these cases4 ,the beliefs and the unbeliefs are alike necessary1 and alike erroneous4 ,it is commonly urged that the axiom of causation cannot be derived from experience1 because experience only proves that many things have causes1 whereas the axiom declares that all things have causes4 ,the syllogism1 many things which come into existence have causes1 ,a has come into existence3 therefore ,a had a cause1 is obviously fallacious1 if ,a is not previously shown to be one of the many things4 ,and this objection is perfectly sound so far as it goes4 ,the axiom of causation cannot possibly be deduced from any general proposition which simply embodies experience4 ,but it does not follow that the belief1 or expectation1 expressed by the axiom1 is not a product of experience1 generated antecedently to1 and altogether independently of1 the logically unjustifiable language in which we express it4 ,in fact1 the axiom of causation resembles all other beliefs of expectation in being the verbal symbol of a purely automatic act of the mind1 which is altogether extra-logical1 and would be illogical1 if it were not constantly verified by experience4 ,experience1 as we have seen1 stores up memories2 memories generate expectations or beliefs--why they do so may be explained hereafter by proper investigation of cerebral physiology4 ,but1 to seek for the reason of the facts in the verbal symbols by which they are expressed1 and to be astonished that it is not to be found there1 is surely singular2 and what ,hume did was to turn attention from the verbal proposition to the psychical fact of which it is the symbol4 ,when any natural object or event is presented1 it is impossible for us1 by any sagacity or penetration1 to discover1 or even conjecture1 without experience1 what event will result from it1 or to carry our foresight beyond that object1 which is immediately present to the memory and senses4 ,even after one instance or experiment1 where we have observed a particular event to follow upon another1 we are not entitled to form a general rule1 or foretell what will happen in like cases2 it being justly esteemed an unpardonable temerity to judge of the whole course of nature from one single experiment1 however accurate or certain4 ,but when one particular species of events has always1 in all instances1 been conjoined with another1 we make no longer any scruple of foretelling one upon the appearance of the other1 and of employing that reasoning which can alone assure us of any matter of fact or existence4 ,we then call the one object ,cause1 the other ,effect4 ,we suppose that there is some connexion between them3 some power in the one1 by which it infallibly produces the other1 and operates with the greatest certainty and strongest necessity4444 ,but there is nothing in a number of instances1 different from every single instance1 which is supposed to be exactly similar2 except only1 that after a repetition of similar instances1 the mind is carried by habit1 upon the appearance of one event1 to expect its usual attendant1 and to believe that it will exist4444 ,the first time a man saw the communication of motion by impulse1 as by the shock of two billiard balls1 he could not pronounce that the one event was connected1 but only that it was conjoined1 with the other4 ,after he has observed several instances of this nature1 he then pronounces them to be connected4 ,what alteration has happened to give rise to this new idea of connexion8 ,nothing but that he now feels those events to be connected in his imagination1 and can readily foresee the existence of the one from the appearance of the other4 ,when we say1 therefore1 that one object is connected with another we mean only that they have acquired a connexion in our thought1 and give rise to this inference1 by which they become proofs of each other's existence2 a conclusion which is somewhat extraordinary1 but which seems founded on sufficient evidence4--7,,iv4 pp4 #hg-hi47 ,in the fifteenth section of the third part of the ,treatise1 under the head of the ,rules by which to ,judge of ,causes and ,effects1 ,hume gives a sketch of the method of allocating effects to their causes1 upon which1 so far as ,i am aware1 no improvement was made down to the time of the publication of ,mill's ,logic4 ,of ,mill's four methods1 that of agreement is indicated in the following passage3-- 444 where several different objects produce the same effect1 it must be by means of some quality which we discover to be common amongst them4 ,for as like effects imply like causes1 we must always ascribe the causation to the circumstance wherein we discover the resemblance4--7,i4 p4 #bbi47 ,next1 the foundation of the method of difference is stated3-- ,the difference in the effects of two resembling objects must proceed from that particular in which they differ4 ,for1 as like causes always produce like effects1 when in any instance we find our expectation to be disappointed1 we must conclude that this irregularity proceeds from some difference in the causes4--7,i4 p4 #bcj47 ,in the succeeding paragraph the method of concomitant variations is foreshadowed4 ,when any object increases or diminishes with the increase or diminution of the cause1 'tis to be regarded as a compounded effect1 derived from the union of the several different effects which arise from the several different parts of the cause4 ,the absence or presence of one part of the cause is here supposed to be always attended with the absence or presence of a proportionable part of the effect4 ,this constant conjunction sufficiently proves that the one part is the cause of the other4 ,we must1 however1 beware not to draw such a conclusion from a few experiments4--7,i4 p4 #bcj47 ,lastly1 the following rule1 though awkwardly stated1 contains a suggestion of the method of residues3-- 444 an object which exists for any time in its full perfection without any effect1 is not the sole cause of that effect1 but requires to be assisted by some other principle1 which may forward its influence and operation4 ,for as like effects necessarily follow from like causes1 and in a contiguous time and place1 their separation for a moment shows that these causes are not complete ones4--7,i4 p4 #bcj47 ,in addition to the bare notion of necessary connexion between the cause and its effect1 we undoubtedly find in our minds the idea of something resident in the cause which1 as we say1 produces the effect1 and we call this something ,force1 ,power1 or ,energy4 ,hume explains ,force and ,power as the results of the association with inanimate causes of the feelings of endeavour or resistance which we experience1 when our bodies give rise to1 or resist1 motion4 ,if ,i throw a ball1 ,i have a sense of effort which ends when the ball leaves my hand2 and if ,i catch a ball1 ,i have a sense of resistance which comes to an end with the quiescence of the ball4 ,in the former case1 there is a strong suggestion of something having gone from myself into the ball2 in the latter1 of something having been received from the ball4 ,let any one hold a piece of iron near a strong magnet1 and the feeling that the magnet endeavours to pull the iron one way in the same manner as he endeavours to pull it in the opposite direction1 is very strong4 ,as ,hume says3-- ,no animal can put external bodies in motion without the sentiment of a nisus1 or endeavour2 and every animal has a sentiment or feeling from the stroke or blow of an external object that is in motion4 ,these sensations1 which are merely animal1 and from which we can1 a priori1 draw no inference1 we are apt to transfer to inanimate objects1 and to suppose that they have some such feelings whenever they transfer or receive motion4--7,,iv4 p4 #ia1 note47 ,it is obviously1 however1 an absurdity not less gross than that of supposing the sensation of warmth to exist in a fire1 to imagine that the subjective sensation of effort or resistance in ourselves can be present in external objects1 when they stand in the relation of causes to other objects4 ,to the argument1 that we have a right to suppose the relation of cause and effect to contain something more than invariable succession1 because1 when we ourselves act as causes1 or in volition1 we are conscious of exerting power2 ,hume replies1 that we know nothing of the feeling we call power except as effort or resistance2 and that we have not the slightest means of knowing whether it has anything to do with the production of bodily motion or mental changes4 ,and he points out1 as ,descartes and ,spinoza had done before him1 that when voluntary motion takes place1 that which we will is not the immediate consequence of the act of volition1 but something which is separated from it by a long chain of causes and effects4 ,if the will is the cause of the movement of a limb1 it can be so only in the sense that the guard who gives the order to go on1 is the cause of the transport of a train from one station to another4 ,we learn from anatomy1 that the immediate object of power in voluntary motion is not the member itself which is moved1 but certain muscles and nerves and animal spirits1 and perhaps something still more minute and unknown1 through which the motion is successively propagated1 ere it reach the member itself1 whose motion is the immediate object of volition4 ,can there be a more certain proof that the power by which the whole operation is performed1 so far from being directly and fully known by an inward sentiment or consciousness1 is to the last degree mysterious and unintelligible8 ,here the mind wills a certain event3 ,immediately another event1 unknown to ourselves1 and totally different from the one intended1 is produced3 ,this event produces another equally unknown3 ,till at last1 through a long succession1 the desired event is produced4--7,,iv4 p4 #gh47 ,a still stronger argument against ascribing an objective existence to force or power1 on the strength of our supposed direct intuition of power in voluntary acts1 may be urged from the unquestionable fact1 that we do not know1 and cannot know1 that volition does cause corporeal motion2 while there is a great deal to be said in favour of the view that it is no cause1 but merely a concomitant of that motion4 ,but the nature of volition will be more fitly considered hereafter4 ,,footnote3 #bf ,hume1 however1 expressly includes the records of our memory among his matters of fact4--7,,iv4 p4 #cc47 ,,chapter ,,vii4 ,,the ,,order ,,of ,,nature3 ,,miracles4 ,if our beliefs of expectation are based on our beliefs of memory1 and anticipation is only inverted recollection1 it necessarily follows that every belief of expectation implies the belief that the future will have a certain resemblance to the past4 ,from the first hour of experience1 onwards1 this belief is constantly being verified1 until old age is inclined to suspect that experience has nothing new to offer4 ,and when the experience of generation after generation is recorded1 and a single book tells us more than ,methuselah could have learned1 had he spent every waking hour of his thousand years in learning2 when apparent disorders are found to be only the recurrent pulses of a slow working order1 and the wonder of a year becomes the commonplace of a century2 when repeated and minute examination never reveals a break in the chain of causes and effects2 and the whole edifice of practical life is built upon our faith in its continuity2 the belief that that chain has never been broken and will never be broken1 becomes one of the strongest and most justifiable of human convictions4 ,and it must be admitted to be a reasonable request1 if we ask those who would have us put faith in the actual occurrence of interruptions of that order1 to produce evidence in favour of their view1 not only equal1 but superior1 in weight to that which leads us to adopt ours4 ,this is the essential argument of ,hume's famous disquisition upon miracles2 and it may safely be declared to be irrefragable4 ,but it must be admitted that ,hume has surrounded the kernel of his essay with a shell of very doubtful value4 ,the first step in this1 as in all other discussions1 is to come to a clear understanding as to the meaning of the terms employed4 ,argumentation whether miracles are possible1 and1 if possible1 credible1 is mere beating the air until the arguers have agreed what they mean by the word miracles4 ,hume1 with less than his usual perspicuity1 but in accordance with a common practice of believers in the miraculous1 defines a miracle as a violation of the laws of nature1 or as a transgression of a law of nature by a particular volition of the ,deity1 or by the interposition of some invisible agent4 ,there must1 he says1-- be an uniform experience against every miraculous event1 otherwise the event would not merit that appellation4 ,and as an uniform experience amounts to a proof1 there is here a direct and full proof1 from the nature of the fact1 against the existence of any miracle2 nor can such a proof be destroyed or the miracle rendered credible but by an opposite proof which is superior4--7,,iv4 p4 #acd47 ,every one of these dicta appears to be open to serious objection4 ,the word miracle--miraculum1--in its primitive and legitimate sense1 simply means something wonderful4 ,cicero applies it as readily to the fancies of philosophers1 ,portenta et miracula philosophorum somniantium1 as we do to the prodigies of priests4 ,and the source of the wonder which a miracle excites is the belief1 on the part of those who witness it1 that it transcends or contradicts ordinary experience4 ,the definition of a miracle as a violation of the laws of nature is1 in reality1 an employment of language which1 on the face of the matter1 cannot be justified4 ,for nature means neither more nor less than that which is2 the sum of phenomena presented to our experience2 the totality of events past1 present1 and to come4 ,every event must be taken to be a part of nature1 until proof to the contrary is supplied4 ,and such proof is1 from the nature of the case1 impossible4 ,hume asks3-- ,why is it more than probable that all men must die3 that lead cannot of itself remain suspended in the air3 that fire consumes wood and is extinguished by water2 unless it be that these events are found agreeable to the laws of nature1 and there is required a violation of those laws1 or in other words1 a miracle1 to prevent them8--7,,iv4 p4 #acc47 ,but the reply is obvious2 not one of these events is more than probable2 though the probability may reach such a very high degree that1 in ordinary language1 we are justified in saying that the opposite events are impossible4 ,calling our often verified experience a law of nature adds nothing to its value1 nor in the slightest degree increases any probability that it will be verified again1 which may arise out of the fact of its frequent verification4 ,if a piece of lead were to remain suspended of itself1 in the air1 the occurrence would be a miracle1 in the sense of a wonderful event1 indeed2 but no one trained in the methods of science would imagine that any law of nature was really violated thereby4 ,he would simply set to work to investigate the conditions under which so highly unexpected an occurrence took place1 and thereby enlarge his experience and modify his hitherto unduly narrow conception of the laws of nature4 ,the alternative definition1 that a miracle is a transgression of a law of nature by a particular volition of the ,deity1 or by the interposition of some invisible agent1 7,,iv4 p4 #acd1 note7 is still less defensible4 ,for a vast number of miracles have professedly been worked1 neither by the ,deity1 nor by any invisible agent2 but by ,beelzebub and his compeers1 or by very visible men4 ,moreover1 not to repeat what has been said respecting the absurdity of supposing that something which occurs is a transgression of laws1 our only knowledge of which is derived from the observation of that which occurs2 upon what sort of evidence can we be justified in concluding that a given event is the effect of a particular volition of the ,deity1 or of the interposition of some invisible 7that is unperceivable7 agent8 ,it may be so1 but how is the assertion1 that it is so1 to be tested8 ,if it be said that the event exceeds the power of natural causes1 what can justify such a saying8 ,the day-fly has better grounds for calling a thunderstorm supernatural1 than has man1 with his experience of an infinitesimal fraction of duration1 to say that the most astonishing event that can be imagined is beyond the scope of natural causes4 ,whatever is intelligible and can be distinctly conceived1 implies no contradiction1 and can never be proved false by any demonstration1 argument1 or abstract reasoning a priori4--7,,iv4 p4 #dd47 ,so wrote ,hume1 with perfect justice1 in his ,sceptical ,doubts4 ,but a miracle1 in the sense of a sudden and complete change in the customary order of nature1 is intelligible1 can be distinctly conceived1 implies no contradiction2 and1 therefore1 according to ,hume's own showing1 cannot be proved false by any demonstrative argument4 ,nevertheless1 in diametrical contradiction to his own principles1 ,hume says elsewhere3-- ,it is a miracle that a dead man should come to life3 because that has never been observed in any age or country4--7,,iv4 p4 #acd47 ,that is to say1 there is an uniform experience against such an event1 and therefore1 if it occurs1 it is a violation of the laws of nature4 ,or1 to put the argument in its naked absurdity1 that which never has happened never can happen1 without a violation of the laws of nature4 ,in truth1 if a dead man did come to life1 the fact would be evidence1 not that any law of nature had been violated1 but that those laws1 even when they express the results of a very long and uniform experience1 are necessarily based on incomplete knowledge1 and are to be held only as grounds of more or less justifiable expectation4 ,to sum up1 the definition of a miracle as a suspension or a contravention of the order of ,nature is self-contradictory1 because all we know of the order of nature is derived from our observation of the course of events of which the so-called miracle is a part4 ,on the other hand1 no event is too extraordinary to be impossible2 and1 therefore1 if by the term miracles we mean only extremely wonderful events1 there can be no just ground for denying the possibility of their occurrence4 ,but when we turn from the question of the possibility of miracles1 however they may be defined1 in the abstract1 to that respecting the grounds upon which we are justified in believing any particular miracle1 ,hume's arguments have a very different value1 for they resolve themselves into a simple statement of the dictates of common sense--which may be expressed in this canon3 the more a statement of fact conflicts with previous experience1 the more complete must be the evidence which is to justify us in believing it4 ,it is upon this principle that every one carries on the business of common life4 ,if a man tells me he saw a piebald horse in ,piccadilly1 ,i believe him without hesitation4 ,the thing itself is likely enough1 and there is no imaginable motive for his deceiving me4 ,but if the same person tells me he observed a zebra there1 ,i might hesitate a little about accepting his testimony1 unless ,i were well satisfied1 not only as to his previous acquaintance with zebras1 but as to his powers and opportunities of observation in the present case4 ,if1 however1 my informant assured me that he beheld a centaur trotting down that famous thoroughfare1 ,i should emphatically decline to credit his statement2 and this even if he were the most saintly of men and ready to suffer martyrdom in support of his belief4 ,in such a case1 ,i could1 of course1 entertain no doubt of the good faith of the witness2 it would be only his competency1 which unfortunately has very little to do with good faith or intensity of conviction1 which ,i should presume to call in question4 ,indeed1 ,i hardly know what testimony would satisfy me of the existence of a live centaur4 ,to put an extreme case1 suppose the late ,johannes ,mller1 of ,berlin1 the greatest anatomist and physiologist among my contemporaries1 had barely affirmed he had seen a live centaur1 ,i should certainly have been staggered by the weight of an assertion coming from such an authority4 ,but ,i could have got no further than a suspension of judgment4 ,for1 on the whole1 it would have been more probable that even he had fallen into some error of interpretation of the facts which came under his observation1 than that such an animal as a centaur really existed4 ,and nothing short of a careful monograph1 by a highly competent investigator1 accompanied by figures and measurements of all the most important parts of a centaur1 put forth under circumstances which could leave no doubt that falsification or misinterpretation would meet with immediate exposure1 could possibly enable a man of science to feel that he acted conscientiously1 in expressing his belief in the existence of a centaur on the evidence of testimony4 ,this hesitation about admitting the existence of such an animal as a centaur1 be it observed1 does not deserve reproach1 as scepticism1 but moderate praise1 as mere scientific good faith4 ,it need not imply1 and it does not1 so far as ,i am concerned1 any a priori hypothesis that a centaur is an impossible animal2 or1 that his existence1 if he did exist1 would violate the laws of nature4 ,indubitably1 the organisation of a centaur presents a variety of practical difficulties to an anatomist and physiologist2 and a good many of those generalisations of our present experience1 which we are pleased to call laws of nature1 would be upset by the appearance of such an animal1 so that we should have to frame new laws to cover our extended experience4 ,every wise man will admit that the possibilities of nature are infinite1 and include centaurs2 but he will not the less feel it his duty to hold fast1 for the present1 by the dictum of ,lucretius1 ,nam certe ex vivo ,centauri non fit imago1 and to cast the entire burthen of proof1 that centaurs exist1 on the shoulders of those who ask him to believe the statement4 ,judged by the canons either of common sense1 or of science1 which are indeed one and the same1 all miracles are centaurs1 or they would not be miracles2 and men of sense and science will deal with them on the same principles4 ,no one who wishes to keep well within the limits of that which he has a right to assert will affirm that it is impossible that the sun and moon should ever have been made to appear to stand still in the valley of ,ajalon2 or that the walls of a city should have fallen down at a trumpet blast2 or that water was turned into wine2 because such events are contrary to uniform experience and violate laws of nature4 ,for aught he can prove to the contrary1 such events may appear in the order of nature to-morrow4 ,but common sense and common honesty alike oblige him to demand from those who would have him believe in the actual occurrence of such events1 evidence of a cogency proportionate to their departure from probability2 evidence at least as strong as that1 which the man who says he has seen a centaur is bound to produce1 unless he is content to be thought either more than credulous or less than honest4 ,but are there any miracles on record1 the evidence for which fulfils the plain and simple requirements alike of elementary logic and of elementary morality8 ,hume answers this question without the smallest hesitation1 and with all the authority of a historical specialist3-- ,there is not to be found1 in all history1 any miracle attested by a sufficient number of men1 of such unquestioned goodness1 education1 and learning1 as to secure us against all delusion in themselves2 of such undoubted integrity1 as to place them beyond all suspicion of any design to deceive others2 of such credit and reputation in the eyes of mankind1 as to have a great deal to lose in case of their being detected in any falsehood2 and at the same time attesting facts1 performed in such a public manner1 and in so celebrated a part of the world1 as to render the detection unavoidable3 ,all which circumstances are requisite to give us a full assurance of the testimony of men4--7,,iv4 p4 #ace47 ,these are grave assertions1 but they are least likely to be challenged by those who have made it their business to weigh evidence and to give their decision under a due sense of the moral responsibility which they incur in so doing4 ,it is probable that few persons who proclaim their belief in miracles have considered what would be necessary to justify that belief in the case of a professed modern miracle-worker4 ,suppose1 for example1 it is affirmed that ,a4,b4 died and that ,c4,d4 brought him to life again4 ,let it be granted that ,a4,b4 and ,c4,d4 are persons of unimpeachable honour and veracity2 that ,c4,d4 is the next heir to ,a4,b4's estate1 and therefore had a strong motive for not bringing him to life again2 and that all ,a4,b4's relations1 respectable persons who bore him a strong affection1 or had otherwise an interest in his being alive1 declared that they saw him die4 ,furthermore1 let ,a4,b4 be seen after his recovery by all his friends and neighbours1 and let his and their depositions1 that he is now alive1 be taken down before a magistrate of known integrity and acuteness3 would all this constitute even presumptive evidence that ,c4,d4 had worked a miracle8 ,unquestionably not4 ,for the most important link in the whole chain of evidence is wanting1 and that is the proof that ,a4,b4 was really dead4 ,the evidence of ordinary observers on such a point as this is absolutely worthless4 ,and1 even medical evidence1 unless the physician is a person of unusual knowledge and skill1 may have little more value4 ,unless careful thermometric observation proves that the temperature has sunk below a certain point2 unless the cadaveric stiffening of the muscles has become well established2 all the ordinary signs of death may be fallacious1 and the intervention of ,c4,d4 may have had no more to do with ,a4,b4's restoration to life than any other fortuitously coincident event4 ,it may be said that such a coincidence would be more wonderful than the miracle itself4 ,nevertheless history acquaints us with coincidences as marvellous4 ,on the #aith of ,february1 #ahdb1 ,sir ,robert ,sale held ,jellalabad with a small ,english force and1 daily expecting attack from an overwhelming force of ,afghans1 had spent three months in incessantly labouring to improve the fortifications of the town4 ,akbar ,khan had approached within a few miles1 and an onslaught of his army was supposed to be imminent4 ,that morning an earthquake-- nearly destroyed the town1 threw down the greater part of the parapets1 the central gate with the adjoining bastions1 and a part of the new bastion which flanked it4 ,three other bastions were also nearly destroyed1 whilst several large breaches were made in the curtains1 and the ,peshawur side1 eighty feet long1 was quite practicable1 the ditch being filled1 and the descent easy4 ,thus in one moment the labours of three months were in a great measure destroyed4#bg ,if ,akbar ,khan had happened to give orders for an assault in the early morning of the #aith of ,february1 what good follower of the ,prophet could have doubted that ,allah had lent his aid8 ,as it chanced1 however1 ,mahometan faith in the miraculous took another turn2 for the energetic defenders of the post had repaired the damage by the end of the month2 and the enemy1 finding no signs of the earthquake when they invested the place1 ascribed the supposed immunity of ,jellalabad to ,english witchcraft4 ,but the conditions of belief do not vary with time or place2 and1 if it is undeniable that evidence of so complete and weighty a character is needed1 at the present time1 for the establishment of the occurrence of such a wonder as that supposed1 it has always been needful4 ,those who study the extant records of miracles with due attention will judge for themselves how far it has ever been supplied4 ,,footnote3 #bg ,report of ,captain ,broadfoot1 garrison engineer1 quoted in ,kaye's ,afghanistan4 ,,chapter ,,viii4 ,,theism2 ,,evolution ,,of ,,theology4 ,hume seems to have had but two hearty dislikes3 the one to the ,english nation1 and the other to all the professors of dogmatic theology4 ,the one aversion he vented only privately to his friends2 but1 if he is ever bitter in his public utterances1 it is against priests#bh in general and theological enthusiasts and fanatics in particular2 if he ever seems insincere1 it is when he wishes to insult theologians by a parade of sarcastic respect4 ,one need go no further than the peroration of the ,essay on ,miracles for a characteristic illustration4 ,i am the better pleased with the method of reasoning here delivered1 as ,i think it may serve to confound those dangerous friends and disguised enemies to the ,christian religion who have undertaken to defend it by the principles of human reason4 ,our most holy religion is founded on ,faith1 not on reason1 and it is a sure method of exposing it to put it to such a trial as it is by no means fitted to endure4 444 the ,christian religion not only was at first attended with miracles1 but even at this day cannot be believed by any reasonable person without one4 ,mere reason is insufficient to convince us of its veracity3 ,and whoever is moved by ,faith to assent to it1 is conscious of a continual miracle in his own person1 which subverts all the principles of his understanding1 and gives him a determination to believe what is most contrary to custom and experience4--7,,iv4 pp4 #aec1 #aed47 ,it is obvious that1 here and elsewhere1 ,hume1 adopting a popular confusion of ideas1 uses religion as the equivalent of dogmatic theology2 and1 therefore1 he says1 with perfect justice1 that religion is nothing but a species of philosophy 7iv4 p4 #aga74 ,here no doubt lies the root of his antagonism4 ,the quarrels of theologians and philosophers have not been about religion1 but about philosophy2 and philosophers not unfrequently seem to entertain the same feeling towards theologians that sportsmen cherish towards poachers4 ,there cannot be two passions more nearly resembling each other than hunting and philosophy1 says ,hume4 ,and philosophic hunters are given to think1 that1 while they pursue truth for its own sake1 out of pure love for the chase 7perhaps mingled with a little human weakness to be thought good shots71 and by open and legitimate methods2 their theological competitors too often care merely to supply the market of establishments2 and disdain neither the aid of the snares of superstition1 nor the cover of the darkness of ignorance4 ,unless some foundation was given for this impression by the theological writers whose works had fallen in ,hume's way1 it is difficult to account for the depth of feeling which so good natured a man manifests on the subject4 ,thus he writes in the ,natural ,history of ,religion1 with quite unusual acerbity3-- ,the chief objection to it the ancient heathen mythology with regard to this planet is1 that it is not ascertained by any just reason or authority4 ,the ancient tradition insisted on by heathen priests and theologers is but a weak foundation3 and transmitted also such a number of contradictory reports1 supported all of them by equal authority1 that it became absolutely impossible to fix a preference among them4 ,a few volumes1 therefore1 must contain all the polemical writings of pagan priests3 ,and their whole theology must consist more of traditional stories and superstitious practices than of philosophical argument and controversy4 ,but where theism forms the fundamental principle of any popular religion1 that tenet is so conformable to sound reason1 that philosophy is apt to incorporate itself with such a system of theology4 ,and if the other dogmas of that system be contained in a sacred book1 such as the ,alcoran1 or be determined by any visible authority1 like that of the ,roman pontiff1 speculative reasoners naturally carry on their assent1 and embrace a theory1 which has been instilled into them by their earliest education1 and which also possesses some degree of consistence and uniformity4 ,but as these appearances are sure1 all of them1 to prove deceitful1 philosophy will very soon find herself very unequally yoked with her new associate2 and instead of regulating each principle1 as they advance together1 she is at every turn perverted to serve the purposes of superstition4 ,for besides the unavoidable incoherences1 which must be reconciled and adjusted1 one may safely affirm1 that all popular theology1 especially the scholastic1 has a kind of appetite for absurdity and contradiction4 ,if that theology went not beyond reason and common sense1 her doctrines would appear too easy and familiar4 ,amazement must of necessity be raised3 ,mystery affected3 ,darkness and obscurity sought after3 ,and a foundation of merit afforded to the devout votaries1 who desire an opportunity of subduing their rebellious reason by the belief of the most unintelligible sophisms4 ,ecclesiastical history sufficiently confirms these reflections4 ,when a controversy is started1 some people always pretend with certainty to foretell the issue4 ,whichever opinion1 say they1 is most contrary to plain reason is sure to prevail2 even when the general interest of the system requires not that decision4 ,though the reproach of heresy may1 for some time1 be bandied about among the disputants1 it always rests at last on the side of reason4 ,any one1 it is pretended1 that has but learning enough of this kind to know the definition of ,arian1 ,pelagian1 ,erastian1 ,socinian1 ,sabellian1 ,eutychian1 ,nestorian1 ,monothelite1 c41 not to mention ,protestant1 whose fate is yet uncertain1 will be convinced of the truth of this observation4 ,it is thus a system becomes absurd in the end1 merely from its being reasonable and philosophical in the beginning4 ,to oppose the torrent of scholastic religion by such feeble maxims as these1 that it is impossible for the same thing to be and not to be1 that the whole is greater than a part1 that two and three make five1 is pretending to stop the ocean with a bulrush4 ,will you set up profane reason against sacred mystery8 ,no punishment is great enough for your impiety4 ,and the same fires which were kindled for heretics will serve also for the destruction of philosophers4--7,,iv4 pp4 #dha-c47 ,holding these opinions respecting the recognised systems of theology and their professors1 ,hume1 nevertheless1 seems to have had a theology of his own2 that is to say1 he seems to have thought 7though1 as will appear1 it is needful for an expositor of his opinions to speak very guardedly on this point7 that the problem of theism is susceptible of scientific treatment1 with something more than a negative result4 ,his opinions are to be gathered from the eleventh section of the ,inquiry 7#agdh72 from the ,dialogues concerning ,natural ,religion1 which were written at least as early as #agea1 though not published till after his death2 and from the ,natural ,history of ,religion1 published in #ageg4 ,in the first two pieces1 the reader is left to judge for himself which interlocutor in the dialogue represents the thoughts of the author2 but1 for the views put forward in the last1 ,hume accepts the responsibility4 ,unfortunately1 this essay deals almost wholly with the historical development of theological ideas2 and1 on the question of the philosophical foundation of theology1 does little more than express the writer's contentment with the argument from design4 ,the whole frame of nature bespeaks an ,intelligent ,author2 and no rational inquirer can1 after serious reflection1 suspend his belief a moment with regard to the primary principles of genuine ,theism and ,religion4--7,,iv4 p4 #dce47 ,were men led into the apprehension of invisible1 intelligent power1 by a contemplation of the works of nature1 they could never possibly entertain any conception but of one single being1 who bestowed existence and order on this vast machine1 and adjusted all its parts according to one regular plan or connected system4 ,for though1 to persons of a certain turn of mind1 it may not appear altogether absurd1 that several independent beings1 endowed with superior wisdom1 might conspire in the contrivance and execution of one regular plan1 yet is this a merely arbitrary supposition1 which1 even if allowed possible1 must be confessed neither to be supported by probability nor necessity4 ,all things in the universe are evidently of a piece4 ,everything is adjusted to everything4 ,one design prevails throughout the whole4 ,and this uniformity leads the mind to acknowledge one author2 because the conception of different authors1 without any distinction of attributes or operations1 serves only to give perplexity to the imagination1 without bestowing any satisfaction on the understanding4--7,,iv4 p4 #ddb47 ,thus ,hume appears to have sincerely accepted the two fundamental conclusions of the argument from design2 firstly1 that a ,deity exists2 and1 secondly1 that ,he possesses attributes more or less allied to those of human intelligence4 ,but1 at this embryonic stage of theology1 ,hume's progress is arrested2 and1 after a survey of the development of dogma1 his general corollary is1 that-- ,the whole is a riddle1 an enigma1 an inexplicable mystery4 ,doubt1 uncertainty1 suspense of judgment1 appear the only result of our most accurate scrutiny concerning this subject4 ,but such is the frailty of human reason1 and such the irresistible contagion of opinion1 that even this deliberate doubt could scarcely be upheld2 did we not enlarge our view1 and opposing one species of superstition to another1 set them a quarrelling2 while we ourselves1 during their fury and contention1 happily make our escape into the calm1 though obscure1 regions of philosophy4--7,,iv4 p4 #eac47 ,thus it may be fairly presumed that ,hume expresses his own sentiments in the words of the speech with which ,philo concludes the ,dialogues4 ,if the whole of natural theology1 as some people seem to maintain1 resolves itself into one simple1 though somewhat ambiguous1 at least undefined proposition1 ,that the cause or causes of order in the universe probably bear some remote analogy to human intelligence3 ,if this proposition be not capable of extension1 variation1 or more particular explication3 ,if it affords no inference that affects human life or can be the source of any action or forbearance3 ,and if the analogy1 imperfect as it is1 can be carried no further than to the human intelligence1 and cannot be transferred1 with any appearance of probability1 to the other qualities of the mind2 if this really be the case1 what can the most inquisitive1 contemplative1 and religious man do more than give a plain1 philosophical assent to the proposition1 as often as it occurs1 and believe that the arguments on which it is established exceed the objections which lie against it8 ,some astonishment indeed will naturally arise from the greatness of the object2 some melancholy from its obscurity2 some contempt of human reason1 that it can give no solution more satisfactory with regard to so extraordinary and magnificent a question4 ,but believe me1 ,cleanthes1 the most natural sentiment which a well-disposed mind will feel on this occasion1 is a longing desire and expectation that ,heaven would be pleased to dissipate1 at least alleviate1 this profound ignorance1 by affording some more particular revelation to mankind1 and making discoveries of the nature1 attributes1 and operations of the ,divine object of our faith4#bi--7;,,ii4 pp4 #edg-h47 ,such being the sum total of ,hume's conclusions1 it cannot be said that his theological burden is a heavy one4 ,but1 if we turn from the ,natural ,history of ,religion1 to the ,treatise1 the ,inquiry1 and the ,dialogues1 the story of what happened to the ass laden with salt1 who took to the water1 irresistibly suggests itself4 ,hume's theism1 such as it is1 dissolves away in the dialectic river1 until nothing is left but the verbal sack in which it was contained4 ,of the two theistic propositions to which ,hume is committed1 the first is the affirmation of the existence of a ,god1 supported by the argument from the nature of causation4 ,in the ,dialogues1 ,philo1 while pushing scepticism to its utmost limit1 is nevertheless made to say that-- 444 where reasonable men treat these subjects1 the question can never be concerning the ,being1 but only the ,nature1 of the ,deity4 ,the former truth1 as you will observe1 is unquestionable and self-evident4 ,nothing exists without a cause1 and the original cause of this universe 7whatever it be7 we call ,god1 and piously ascribe to him every species of perfection4--7,,ii4 p4 #dci47 ,the expositor of ,hume1 who wishes to do his work thoroughly1 as far as it goes1 cannot but fall into perplexity#cj when he contrasts this language with that of the sections of the third part of the ,treatise1 entitled1 ,why a ,cause is ,always ,necessary1 and ,of the ,idea of ,necessary ,connexion4 ,it is there shown1 at large1 that every demonstration which has been produced for the necessity of a cause is fallacious and sophistical 7,i4 p4 #aaa72 it is affirmed1 that there is no absolute nor metaphysical necessity that every beginning of existence should be attended with such an object as a cause 7,i4 p4 #bbg72 and it is roundly asserted1 that it is easy for us to conceive any object to be non-existent this moment and existent the next1 without conjoining to it the distinct idea of a cause or productive principle 7,i4 p4 #aaa74 ,so far from the axiom1 that whatever begins to exist must have a cause of existence1 being self-evident1 as ,philo calls it1 ,hume spends the greatest care in showing that it is nothing but the product of custom1 or experience4 ,and the doubt thus forced upon one1 whether ,philo ought to be taken as even1 so far1 ,hume's mouth-piece1 is increased when we reflect that we are dealing with an acute reasoner2 and that there is no difficulty in drawing the deduction from ,hume's own definition of a cause1 that the very phrase1 a first cause1 involves a contradiction in terms4 ,he lays down that1-- ',tis an established axiom both in natural and moral philosophy1 that an object1 which exists for any time in its full perfection without producing another1 is not its sole cause2 but is assisted by some other principle which pushes it from its state of inactivity1 and makes it exert that energy1 of which it was secretly possessed4--7,i4 p4 #ajf47 ,now the first cause is assumed to have existed from all eternity1 up to the moment at which the universe came into existence4 ,hence it cannot be the sole cause of the universe2 in fact1 it was no cause at all until it was assisted by some other principle2 consequently the so-called first cause1 so far as it produces the universe1 is in reality an effect of that other principle4 ,moreover1 though1 in the person of ,philo1 ,hume assumes the axiom that whatever begins to exist must have a cause1 which he denies in the ,treatise1 he must have seen1 for a child may see1 that the assumption is of no real service4 ,suppose ,y to be the imagined first cause and ,z to be its effect4 ,let the letters of the alphabet1 a1 b1 c1 d1 e1 f1 g1 in their order1 represent successive moments of time1 and let g represent the particular moment at which the effect ,z makes its appearance4 ,it follows that the cause ,y could not have existed in its full perfection during the time a--e1 for if it had1 then the effect ,z would have come into existence during that time1 which1 by the hypothesis1 it did not do4 ,the cause ,y1 therefore1 must have come into existence at f1 and if everything that comes into existence has a cause1 ,y must have had a cause ,x operating at e2 ,x1 a cause ,w operating at d2 and1 so on1 ad infinitum4#ca ,if the only demonstrative argument for the existence of a ,deity1 which ,hume advances1 thus1 literally1 goes to water in the solvent of his philosophy1 the reasoning from the evidence of design does not fare much better4 ,if ,hume really knew of any valid reply to ,philo's arguments in the following passages of the ,dialogues1 he has dealt unfairly by the leader in concealing it3-- ,but because ,i know you are not much swayed by names and authorities1 ,i shall endeavour to show you1 a little more distinctly1 the inconveniences of that ,anthropomorphism1 which you have embraced2 and shall prove1 that there is no ground to suppose a plan of the world to be formed in the ,divine mind1 consisting of distinct ideas1 differently arranged1 in the same manner as an architect forms in his head the plan of a house which he intends to execute4 ,it is not easy1 ,i own1 to see what is gained by this supposition1 whether we judge the matter by ,reason or by ,experience4 ,we are still obliged to mount higher1 in order to find the cause of this cause1 which you had assigned as satisfactory and conclusive4 ,if ,reason 7,i mean abstract reason1 derived from inquiries a priori7 be not alike mute with regard to all questions concerning cause and effect1 this sentence at least it will venture to pronounce3 ,that a mental world1 or universe of ideas1 requires a cause as much as does a material world1 or universe of objects2 and1 if similar in its arrangement1 must require a similar cause4 ,for what is there in this subject1 which should occasion a different conclusion or inference8 ,in an abstract view1 they are entirely alike2 and no difficulty attends the one supposition1 which is not common to both of them4 ,again1 when we will needs force ,experience to pronounce some sentence1 even on those subjects which lie beyond her sphere1 neither can she perceive any material difference in this particular1 between these two kinds of worlds2 but finds them to be governed by similar principles1 and to depend upon an equal variety of causes in their operations4 ,we have specimens in miniature of both of them4 ,our own mind resembles the one2 a vegetable or animal body the other4 ,let experience1 therefore1 judge from these samples4 ,nothing seems more delicate1 with regard to its causes1 than thought3 and as these causes never operate in two persons after the same manner1 so we never find two persons who think exactly alike4 ,nor indeed does the same person think exactly alike at any two different periods of time4 ,a difference of age1 of the disposition of his body1 of weather1 of food1 of company1 of books1 of passions2 any of these particulars1 or others more minute1 are sufficient to alter the curious machinery of thought1 and communicate to it very different movements and operations4 ,as far as we can judge1 vegetables and animal bodies are not more delicate in their motions1 nor depend upon a greater variety or more curious adjustment of springs and principles4 ,how1 therefore1 shall we satisfy ourselves concerning the cause of that ,being whom you suppose the ,author of ,nature1 or1 according to your system of anthropomorphism1 the ideal world in which you trace the material8 ,have we not the same reason to trace the ideal world into another ideal world1 or new intelligent principle8 ,but if we stop and go no farther2 why go so far8 ,why not stop at the material world8 ,how can we satisfy ourselves without going on in infinitum8 ,and after all1 what satisfaction is there in that infinite progression8 ,let us remember the story of the ,indian philosopher and his elephant4 ,it was never more applicable than to the present subject4 ,if the material world rests upon a similar ideal world1 this ideal world must rest upon some other2 and so on without end4 ,it were better1 therefore1 never to look beyond the present material world4 ,by supposing it to contain the principle of its order within itself1 we really assert it to be ,god2 and the sooner we arrive at that ,divine ,being1 so much the better4 ,when you go one step beyond the mundane system you only excite an inquisitive humour1 which it is impossible ever to satisfy4 ,to say1 that the different ideas which compose the reason of the ,supreme ,being1 fall into order of themselves and by their own natures1 is really to talk without any precise meaning4 ,if it has a meaning1 ,i would fain know why it is not as good sense to say1 that the parts of the material world fall into order of themselves1 and by their own nature4 ,can the one opinion be intelligible while the other is not so8--7,,ii4 pp4 #dfa-d47 ,cleanthes1 in replying to ,philo's discourse1 says that it is very easy to answer his arguments2 but1 as not unfrequently happens with controversialists1 he mistakes a reply for an answer1 when he declares that-- ,the order and arrangement of nature1 the curious adjustment of final causes1 the plain use and intention of every part and organ2 all these bespeak in the clearest language one intelligent cause or author4 ,the heavens and the earth join in the same testimony4 ,the whole chorus of nature raises one hymn to the praises of its ,creator4--7,,ii4 p4 #dfe47 ,though the rhetoric of ,cleanthes may be admired1 its irrelevancy to the point at issue must be admitted4 ,wandering still further into the region of declamation1 he works himself into a passion3 ,you alone1 or almost alone1 disturb this general harmony4 ,you start abstruse doubts1 cavils1 and objections3 ,you ask me what is the cause of this cause8 ,i know not3 ,i care not3 that concerns not me4 ,i have found a ,deity2 and here ,i stop my inquiry4 ,let those go further who are wiser or more enterprising4--7,,ii4 p4 #dff47 ,in other words1 ,o ,cleanthes1 reasoning having taken you as far as you want to go1 you decline to advance any further2 even though you fully admit that the very same reasoning forbids you to stop where you are pleased to cry halt6 ,but this is simply forcing your reason to abdicate in favour of your caprice4 ,it is impossible to imagine that ,hume1 of all men in the world1 could have rested satisfied with such an act of high-treason against the sovereignty of philosophy4 ,we may rather conclude that the last word of the discussion1 which he gives to ,philo1 is also his own4 ,if ,i am still to remain in utter ignorance of causes1 and can absolutely give an explication of nothing1 ,i shall never esteem it any advantage to shove off for a moment a difficulty1 which1 you acknowledge1 must immediately1 in its full force1 recur upon me4 ,naturalists#cb indeed very justly explain particular effects by more general causes1 though these general causes should remain in the end totally inexplicable2 but they never surely thought it satisfactory to explain a particular effect by a particular cause1 which was no more to be accounted for than the effect itself4 ,an ideal system1 arranged of itself1 without a precedent design1 is not a whit more explicable than a material one1 which attains its order in a like manner2 nor is there any more difficulty in the latter supposition than in the former4--7,,ii4 p4 #dff47 ,it is obvious that1 if ,hume had been pushed1 he must have admitted that his opinion concerning the existence of a ,god1 and of a certain remote resemblance of his intellectual nature to that of man1 was an hypothesis which might possess more or less probability1 but was incapable on his own principles of any approach to demonstration4 ,and to all attempts to make any practical use of his theism2 or to prove the existence of the attributes of infinite wisdom1 benevolence1 justice1 and the like1 which are usually ascribed to the ,deity1 by reason1 he opposes a searching critical negation4#cc ,the object of the speech of the imaginary ,epicurean in the eleventh section of the ,inquiry1 entitled ,of a ,particular ,providence and of a ,future ,state1 is to invert the argument of ,bishop ,butler's ,analogy4 ,that famous defence of theology against the a priori scepticism of ,freethinkers of the eighteenth century1 who based their arguments on the inconsistency of the revealed scheme of salvation with the attributes of the ,deity1 consists1 essentially1 in conclusively proving that1 from a moral point of view1 ,nature is at least as reprehensible as orthodoxy4 ,if you tell me1 says ,butler1 in effect1 that any part of revealed religion must be false because it is inconsistent with the divine attributes of justice and mercy2 ,i beg leave to point out to you1 that there are undeniable natural facts which are fully open to the same objection4 ,since you admit that nature is the work of ,god1 you are forced to allow that such facts are consistent with his attributes4 ,therefore1 you must also admit1 that the parallel facts in the scheme of orthodoxy are also consistent with them1 and all your arguments to the contrary fall to the ground4 ,q4,e4,d4 ,in fact1 the solid sense of ,butler left the ,deism of the ,freethinkers not a leg to stand upon4 ,perhaps1 however1 he did not remember the wise saying that ,a man seemeth right in his own cause1 but another cometh after and judgeth him4 ,hume's ,epicurean philosopher adopts the main arguments of the ,analogy1 but unfortunately drives them home to a conclusion of which the good ,bishop would hardly have approved4 ,i deny a ,providence1 you say1 and supreme governor of the world1 who guides the course of events1 and punishes the vicious with infamy and disappointment1 and rewards the virtuous with honour and success in all their undertakings4 ,but surely ,i deny not the course itself of events1 which lies open to every one's inquiry and examination4 ,i acknowledge that1 in the present order of things1 virtue is attended with more peace of mind than vice1 and meets with a more favourable reception from the world4 ,i am sensible that1 according to the past experience of mankind1 friendship is the chief joy of human life1 and moderation the only source of tranquillity and happiness4 ,i never balance between the virtuous and the vicious course of life2 but am sensible that1 to a well-disposed mind1 every advantage is on the side of the former4 ,and what can you say more1 allowing all your suppositions and reasonings8 ,you tell me1 indeed1 that this disposition of things proceeds from intelligence and design4 ,but1 whatever it proceeds from1 the disposition itself1 on which depends our happiness and misery1 and consequently our conduct and deportment in life1 is still the same4 ,it is still open for me1 as well as you1 to regulate my behaviour by my experience of past events4 ,and if you affirm that1 while a divine providence is allowed1 and a supreme distributive justice in the universe1 ,i ought to expect some more particular reward of the good1 and punishment of the bad1 beyond the ordinary course of events1 ,i here find the same fallacy which ,i have before endeavoured to detect4 ,you persist in imagining1 that if we grant that divine existence for which you so earnestly contend1 you may safely infer consequences from it1 and add something to the experienced order of nature1 by arguing from the attributes which you ascribe to your gods4 ,you seem not to remember that all your reasonings on this subject can only be drawn from effects to causes2 and that every argument1 deduced from causes to effects1 must of necessity be a gross sophism1 since it is impossible for you to know anything of the cause1 but what you have antecedently not inferred1 but discovered to the full1 in the effect4 ,but what must a philosopher think of those vain reasoners who1 instead of regarding the present scene of things as the sole object of their contemplation1 so far reverse the whole course of nature1 as to render this life merely a passage to something further2 a porch1 which leads to a greater and vastly different building2 a prologue which serves only to introduce the piece1 and give it more grace and propriety8 ,whence1 do you think1 can such philosophers derive their idea of the gods8 ,from their own conceit and imagination surely4 ,for if they derive it from the present phenomena1 it would never point to anything further1 but must be exactly adjusted to them4 ,that the divinity may possibly be endowed with attributes which we have never seen exerted2 may be governed by principles of action which we cannot discover to be satisfied2 all this will freely be allowed4 ,but still this is mere possibility and hypothesis4 ,we never can have reason to infer any attributes or any principles of action in him1 but so far as we know them to have been exerted and satisfied4 ,are there any marks of a distributive justice in the world8 ,if you answer in the affirmative1 ,i conclude that1 since justice here exerts itself1 it is satisfied4 ,if you reply in the negative1 ,i conclude that you have then no reason to ascribe justice1 in our sense of it1 to the gods4 ,if you hold a medium between affirmation and negation1 by saying that the justice of the gods at present exerts itself in part1 but not in its full extent1 ,i answer that you have no reason to give it any particular extent1 but only so far as you see it1 at present1 exert itself4--7,,iv4 pp4 #afd-f47 ,thus1 the ,freethinkers said1 the attributes of the ,deity being what they are1 the scheme of orthodoxy is inconsistent with them2 whereupon ,butler gave the crushing reply3 ,agreeing with you as to the attributes of the ,deity1 nature1 by its existence1 proves that the things to which you object are quite consistent with them4 ,to whom enters ,hume's ,epicurean with the remark3 ,then1 as nature is our only measure of the attributes of the ,deity in their practical manifestation1 what warranty is there for supposing that such measure is anywhere transcended8 ,that the other side of nature1 if there be one1 is governed on different principles from this side8 ,truly on this topic silence is golden2 while speech reaches not even the dignity of sounding brass or tinkling cymbal1 and is but the weary clatter of an endless logomachy4 ,one can but suspect that ,hume also had reached this conviction2 and that his shadowy and inconsistent theism was the expression of his desire to rest in a state of mind1 which distinctly excluded negation1 while it included as little as possible of affirmation1 respecting a problem which he felt to be hopelessly insoluble4 ,but1 whatever might be the views of the philosopher as to the arguments for theism1 the historian could have no doubt respecting its many-shaped existence1 and the great part which it has played in the world4 ,here1 then1 was a body of natural facts to be investigated scientifically1 and the result of ,hume's inquiries is embodied in the remarkable essay on the ,natural ,history of ,religion4 ,hume anticipated the results of modern investigation in declaring fetishism and polytheism to be the form in which savage and ignorant men naturally clothe their ideas of the unknown influences which govern their destiny2 and they are polytheists rather than monotheists because1-- 444 the first ideas of religion arose1 not from a contemplation of the works of nature1 but from a concern with regard to the events of life1 and from the incessant hopes and fears which actuate the human mind 444 in order to carry men's attention beyond the present course of things1 or lead them into any inference concerning invisible intelligent power1 they must be actuated by some passion which prompts their thought and reflection1 some motive which urges their first inquiry4 ,but what passion shall we have recourse to1 for explaining an effect of such mighty consequence8 ,not speculative curiosity merely1 or the pure love of truth4 ,that motive is too refined for such gross apprehensions1 and would lead men into inquiries concerning the frame of nature1 a subject too large and comprehensive for their narrow capacities4 ,no passions1 therefore1 can be supposed to work on such barbarians1 but the ordinary affections of human life2 the anxious concern for happiness1 the dread of future misery1 the terror of death1 the thirst of revenge1 the appetite for food and other necessaries4 ,agitated by hopes and fears of this nature1 especially the latter1 men scrutinize1 with a trembling curiosity1 the course of future causes1 and examine the various and contrary events of human life4 ,and in this disordered scene1 with eyes still more disordered and astonished1 they see the first obscure traces of divinity4--7,,iv4 pp4 #ddc1 #d47 ,the shape assumed by these first traces of divinity is that of the shadows of men's own minds1 projected out of themselves by their imaginations3-- ,there is an universal tendency among mankind to conceive all beings like themselves1 and to transfer to every object those qualities with which they are familiarly acquainted1 and of which they are intimately conscious4444 ,the unknown causes which continually employ their thought1 appearing always in the same aspect1 are all apprehended to be of the same kind or species4 ,nor is it long before we ascribe to them thought1 and reason1 and passion1 and sometimes even the limbs and figures of men1 in order to bring them nearer to a resemblance with ourselves4--7,,iv4 pp4 #ddf-g47 ,hume asks whether polytheism really deserves the name of theism4 ,our ancestors in ,europe1 before the revival of letters1 believed as we do at present1 that there was one supreme ,god1 the author of nature1 whose power1 though in itself uncontrollable1 was yet often exerted by the interposition of his angels and subordinate ministers1 who executed his sacred purposes4 ,but they also believed1 that all nature was full of other invisible powers3 fairies1 goblins1 elves1 sprights2 beings stronger and mightier than men1 but much inferior to the celestial natures who surround the throne of ,god4 ,now1 suppose that any one1 in these ages1 had denied the existence of ,god and of his angels1 would not his impiety justly have deserved the appellation of atheism1 even though he had still allowed1 by some odd capricious reasoning1 that the popular stories of elves and fairies were just and well grounded8 ,the difference1 on the one hand1 between such a person and a genuine theist1 is infinitely greater than that1 on the other1 between him and one that absolutely excludes all invisible intelligent power4 ,and it is a fallacy1 merely from the casual resemblance of names1 without any conformity of meaning1 to rank such opposite opinions under the same denomination4 ,to any one who considers justly of the matter1 it will appear that the gods of the polytheists are no better than the elves and fairies of our ancestors1 and merit as little as any pious worship and veneration4 ,these pretended religionists are really a kind of superstitious atheists1 and acknowledge no being that corresponds to our idea of a ,deity4 ,no first principle of mind or thought2 no supreme government and administration2 no divine contrivance or intention in the fabric of the world4--7,,iv4 pp4 #dej-ea47 ,the doctrine that you may call an atheist anybody whose ideas about the ,deity do not correspond with your own1 is so largely acted upon by persons who are certainly not of ,hume's way of thinking and1 probably1 so far from having read him1 would shudder to open any book bearing his name1 except the ,history of ,england1 that it is surprising to trace the theory of their practice to such a source4 ,but on thinking the matter over1 this theory seems so consonant with reason1 that one feels ashamed of having suspected many excellent persons of being moved by mere malice and viciousness of temper to call other folks atheists1 when1 after all1 they have been obeying a purely intellectual sense of fitness4 ,as ,hume says1 truly enough1 it is a mere fallacy1 because two people use the same names for things1 the ideas of which are mutually exclusive1 to rank such opposite opinions under the same denomination4 ,if the ,jew says1 that the ,deity is absolute unity1 and that it is sheer blasphemy to say that ,he ever became incarnate in the person of a man2 and1 if the ,trinitarian says1 that the ,deity is numerically three as well as numerically one1 and that it is sheer blasphemy to say that ,he did not so become incarnate1 it is obvious enough that each must be logically held to deny the existence of the other's ,deity4 ,therefore2 that each has a scientific right to call the other an atheist2 and that1 if he refrains1 it is only on the ground of decency and good manners1 which should restrain an honourable man from employing even scientifically justifiable language1 if custom has given it an abusive connotation4 ,while one must agree with ,hume1 then1 it is1 nevertheless1 to be wished that he had not set the bad example of calling polytheists superstitious atheists4 ,it probably did not occur to him that1 by a parity of reasoning1 the ,unitarians might justify the application of the same language to the ,ultramontanes1 and vice vers4 ,but1 to return from a digression which may not be wholly unprofitable1 ,hume proceeds to show in what manner polytheism incorporated physical and moral allegories1 and naturally accepted hero-worship2 and he sums up his views of the first stages of the evolution of theology as follows3-- ,these then are the general principles of polytheism1 founded in human nature1 and little or nothing dependent on caprice or accident4 ,as the causes which bestow happiness or misery1 are in general very little known and very uncertain1 our anxious concern endeavours to attain a determinate idea of them3 and finds no better expedient than to represent them as intelligent1 voluntary agents1 like ourselves1 only somewhat superior in power and wisdom4 ,the limited influence of these agents1 and their proximity to human weakness1 introduce the various distribution and division of their authority1 and thereby give rise to allegory4 ,the same principles naturally deify mortals1 superior in power1 courage1 or understanding1 and produce hero-worship2 together with fabulous history and mythological tradition1 in all its wild and unaccountable forms4 ,and as an invisible spiritual intelligence is an object too refined for vulgar apprehension1 men naturally affix it to some sensible representation2 such as either the more conspicuous parts of nature1 or the statues1 images1 and pictures1 which a more refined age forms of its divinities4--7,,iv4 p4 #dfa47 ,how did the further stage of theology1 monotheism1 arise out of polytheism8 ,hume replies1 certainly not by reasonings from first causes or any sort of fine-drawn logic3-- ,even at this day1 and in ,europe1 ask any of the vulgar why he believes in an ,omnipotent ,creator of the world1 he will never mention the beauty of final causes1 of which he is wholly ignorant3 ,he will not hold out his hand and bid you contemplate the suppleness and variety of joints in his fingers1 their bending all one way1 the counterpoise which they receive from the thumb1 the softness and fleshy parts of the inside of the hand1 with all the other circumstances which render that member fit for the use to which it was destined4 ,to these he has been long accustomed2 and he beholds them with listlessness and unconcern4 ,he will tell you of the sudden and unexpected death of such-a-one2 the fall and bruise of such another2 the excessive drought of this season2 the cold and rains of another4 ,these he ascribes to the immediate operation of ,providence3 ,and such events as1 with good reasoners1 are the chief difficulties in admitting a ,supreme ,intelligence1 are with him the sole arguments for it4444 ,we may conclude therefore1 upon the whole1 that since the vulgar1 in nations which have embraced the doctrine of theism1 still build it upon irrational and superstitious grounds1 they are never led into that opinion by any process of argument1 but by a certain train of thinking1 more suitable to their genius and capacity4 ,it may readily happen1 in an idolatrous nation1 that though men admit the existence of several limited deities1 yet there is some one ,god1 whom1 in a particular manner1 they make the object of their worship and adoration4 ,they may either suppose1 that1 in the distribution of power and territory among the ,gods1 their nation was subjected to the jurisdiction of that particular deity2 or1 reducing heavenly objects to the model of things below1 they may represent one god as the prince or supreme magistrate of the rest1 who1 though of the same nature1 rules them with an authority like that which an earthly sovereign exerts over his subjects and vassals4 ,whether this god1 therefore1 be considered as their peculiar patron1 or as the general sovereign of heaven1 his votaries will endeavour1 by every art1 to insinuate themselves into his favour2 and supposing him to be pleased1 like themselves1 with praise and flattery1 there is no eulogy or exaggeration which will be spared in their addresses to him4 ,in proportion as men's fears or distresses become more urgent1 they still invent new strains of adulation2 and even he who outdoes his predecessor in swelling the titles of his divinity1 is sure to be outdone by his successor in newer and more pompous epithets of praise4 ,thus they proceed1 till at last they arrive at infinity itself1 beyond which there is no further progress2 ,and it is well if1 in striving to get further1 and to represent a magnificent simplicity1 they run not into inexplicable mystery1 and destroy the intelligent nature of their deity1 on which alone any rational worship or adoration can be founded4 ,while they confine themselves to the notion of a perfect being1 the ,creator of the world1 they coincide1 by chance1 with the principles of reason and true philosophy2 though they are guided to that notion1 not by reason1 of which they are in a great measure incapable1 but by the adulation and fears of the most vulgar superstition4--7,,iv4 pp4 #dfc-f47 ,nay1 if we should suppose1 what never happens1 that a popular religion were found1 in which it was expressly declared1 that nothing but morality could gain the divine favour2 if an order of priests were instituted to inculcate this opinion1 in daily sermons1 and with all the arts of persuasion2 yet so inveterate are the people's prejudices1 that1 for want of some other superstition1 they would make the very attendance on these sermons the essentials of religion1 rather than place them in virtue and good morals4 ,the sublime prologue of ,zaleucus' laws inspired not the ,locrians1 so far as we can learn1 with any sounder notions of the measures of acceptance with the deity1 than were familiar to the other ,greeks4--7,,iv4 p4 #eje47 ,it has been remarked that ,hume's writings are singularly devoid of local colour2 of allusions to the scenes with which1 he was familiar1 and to the people from whom he sprang4 ,yet1 surely1 the ,lowlands of ,scotland were more in his thoughts than the ,zephyrean promontory1 and the hard visage of ,john ,knox peered from behind the mask of ,zaleucus1 when this passage left his pen4 ,nay1 might not an acute ,german critic discern therein a reminiscence of that eminently ,scottish institution1 a ,holy ,fair8 where as ,hume's young contemporary sings3-- 444 opens out his cauld harangues ,on practice and on morals2 ,an' aff the godly pour in thrangs ,to gie the jars and barrels ,a lift that day4 ,what signifies his barren shine ,of moral powers and reason8 ,his ,english style and gesture line ,are a' clean out of season4 ,like ,socrates or ,antonine1 ,or some auld pagan heathen1 ,the moral man he does define1 ,but ne'er a word o' faith in ,that's right that day4#cd ,,footnotes3 #bh ,in a note to the ,essay on ,superstition and ,enthusiasm1 ,hume is careful to define what he means by this term4 ,by priests ,i understand only the pretenders to power and dominion1 and to a superior sanctity of character1 distinct from virtue and good morals4 ,these are very different from clergymen1 who are set apart to the care of sacred matters1 and the conducting our public devotions with greater decency and order4 ,there is no rank of men more to be respected than the latter4--7,,iii4 p4 #hc47 #bi ,it is needless to quote the rest of the passage1 though ,i cannot refrain from observing that the recommendation which it contains1 that a man of letters should become a philosophical sceptic as the first and most essential step towards being a sound believing ,christian1 though adopted and largely acted upon by many a champion of orthodoxy in these days1 is questionable in taste1 if it be meant as a jest1 and more than questionable in morality1 if it is to be taken in earnest4 ,to pretend that you believe any doctrine for no better reason than that you doubt everything else1 would be dishonest1 if it were not preposterous4 #cj ,a perplexity which is increased rather than diminished by some passages in a letter to ,gilbert ,elliot of ,minto 7,march #aj1 #agea74 ,hume says1 ,you would perceive by the sample ,i have given you that ,i make ,cleanthes the hero of the dialogue2 whatever you can think of1 to strengthen that side of the argument1 will be most acceptable to me4 ,any propensity you imagine ,i have to the other side crept in upon me against my will2 and 'tis not long ago that ,i burned an old manuscript book1 wrote before ,i was twenty1 which contained1 page after page1 the gradual progress of my thoughts on this head4 ,it began with an anxious scent after arguments to confirm the common opinion2 doubts stole in1 dissipated1 returned2 were again dissipated1 returned again2 and it was a perpetual struggle of a restless imagination against inclination--perhaps against reason4444 ,i could wish ,cleanthes' argument could be so analysed as to be rendered quite formal and regular4 ,the propensity of the mind towards it--unless that propensity were as strong and universal as that to believe in our senses and experience--will still1 ,i am afraid1 be esteemed a suspicious foundation4 ',tis here ,i wish for your assistance4 ,we must endeavour to prove that this propensity is somewhat different from our inclination to find our own figures in the clouds1 our faces in the moon1 our passions and sentiments even in inanimate matter4 ,such an inclination may and ought to be controlled1 and can never be a legitimate ground of assent4 7,burton1 ,life1 ,i4 pp4 #cca-c47 ,the picture of ,hume here drawn unconsciously by his own hand1 is unlike enough to the popular conception of him as a careless sceptic loving doubt for doubt's sake4 #ca ,kant employs substantially the same argument3--,wrde das hchste ,wesen in dieser ,kette der ,bedingungen stehen1 so wrde es selbst ein ,glied der ,reihe derselben sein1 und eben so wie die niederen ,glieder1 denen es vorgesetzt ist1 noch fernere ,untersuchungen wegen seines noch hheren ,grundes erfahren4--,kritik4 ,ed4 ,hartenstein1 p4 #dbb4 #cb ,i4e4 ,natural philosophers4 #cc ,hume's letter to ,mure of ,caldwell1 containing a criticism of ,leechman's sermon 7,burton1 ,i4 p4 #afc71 bears strongly on this point4 #cd ,burns published the ,holy ,fair only ten years after ,hume's death4 ,,chapter ,,ix4 ,,the ,,soul3 ,,the ,,doctrine ,,of ,,immortality4 ,descartes taught that an absolute difference of kind separates matter1 as that which possesses extension1 from spirit1 as that which thinks4 ,they not only have no character in common1 but it is inconceivable that they should have any4 ,on the assumption1 that the attributes of the two were wholly different1 it appeared to be a necessary consequence that the hypothetical causes of these attributes--their respective substances--must be totally different4 ,notably1 in the matter of divisibility1 since that which has no extension cannot be divisible1 it seemed that the chose pensante1 the soul1 must be an indivisible entity4 ,later philosophers1 accepting this notion of the soul1 were naturally much perplexed to understand how1 if matter and spirit had nothing in common1 they could act and react on one another4 ,all the changes of matter being modes of motion1 the difficulty of understanding how a moving extended material body was to affect a thinking thing which had no dimension1 was as great as that involved in solving the problem of how to hit a nominative case with a stick4 ,hence1 the successors of ,descartes either found themselves obliged1 with the ,occasionalists1 to call in the aid of the ,deity1 who was supposed to be a sort of go-between betwixt matter and spirit2 or they had recourse1 with ,leibnitz1 to the doctrine of pre-established harmony1 which denied any influence of the body on the soul1 or vice vers1 and compared matter and spirit to two clocks so accurately regulated to keep time with one another1 that the one struck when ever the other pointed to the hour2 or1 with ,berkeley1 they abolished the substance of matter altogether1 as a superfluity1 though they failed to see that the same arguments equally justified the abolition of soul as another superfluity1 and the reduction of the universe to a series of events or phenomena2 or1 finally1 with ,spinoza1 to whom ,berkeley makes a perilously close approach1 they asserted the existence of only one substance1 with two chief attributes1 the one1 thought1 and the other1 extension4 ,there remained only one possible position1 which1 had it been taken up earlier1 might have saved an immensity of trouble2 and that was to affirm that we do not1 and cannot1 know anything about the substance either of the thinking thing1 or of the extended thing4 ,and ,hume's sound common sense led him to defend this thesis1 which ,locke had already foreshadowed1 with respect to the question of the substance of the soul4 ,hume enunciates two opinions4 ,the first is that the question itself is unintelligible1 and therefore cannot receive any answer2 the second is that the popular doctrine respecting the immateriality1 simplicity1 and indivisibility of a thinking substance is a true atheism1 and will serve to justify all those sentiments for which ,spinoza is so universally infamous4 ,in support of the first opinion1 ,hume points out that it is impossible to attach any definite meaning to the word substance when employed for the hypothetical substratum of soul and matter4 ,for if we define substance as that which may exist by itself1 the definition does not distinguish the soul from perceptions4 ,it is perfectly easy to conceive that states of consciousness are self-subsistent4 ,and1 if the substance of the soul is defined as that in which perceptions inhere1 what is meant by the inherence8 ,is such inherence conceivable8 ,if conceivable1 what evidence is there of it8 ,and what is the use of a substratum to things which1 for anything we know to the contrary1 are capable of existing by themselves8 ,moreover1 it may be added1 supposing the soul has a substance1 how do we know that it is different from the substance1 which1 on like grounds1 must be supposed to underlie the qualities of matter8 ,again1 if it be said that our personal identity requires the assumption of a substance which remains the same while the accidents of perception shift and change1 the question arises what is meant by personal identity8 ,for my part1 says ,hume1 when ,i enter most intimately into what ,i call myself1 ,i always stumble on some particular perception or other1 of heat or cold1 light or shade1 love or hatred1 pain or pleasure4 ,i never can catch myself at any time without a perception1 and never can observe anything but the perception4 ,when my perceptions are removed for any time1 as by sound sleep1 so long am ,i insensible of myself1 and may be truly said not to exist4 ,and were all my perceptions removed by death1 and ,i could neither think1 nor feel1 nor see1 nor love1 nor hate1 after the dissolution of my body1 ,i should be entirely annihilated1 nor do ,i conceive what is further requisite to make me a perfect nonentity4 ,if any one1 upon serious and unprejudiced reflection1 thinks he has a different notion of himself1 ,i must confess ,i can reason no longer with him4 ,all ,i can allow him is1 that he may be in the right as well as ,i1 and that we are essentially different in this particular4 ,he may perhaps perceive something simple and continued which he calls himself1 though ,i am certain there is no such principle in me4 ,but setting aside some metaphysicians of this kind1 ,i may venture to affirm of the rest of mankind1 that they are nothing but a bundle or collection of different perceptions1 which succeed one another with an inconceivable rapidity1 and are in a perpetual flux and movement4444 ,the mind is a kind of theatre1 where several perceptions successively make their appearance1 pass1 repass1 glide away1 and mingle in an infinite variety of postures and situations4 ,there is properly no simplicity in it at one time1 nor identity in different1 whatever natural propension we may have to imagine that simplicity and identity4 ,the comparison of the theatre must not mislead us4 ,they are the successive perceptions only that constitute the mind2 nor have we the most distant notion of the place where these scenes are represented1 or of the materials of which it is composed4 ,what then gives so great a propension to ascribe an identity to these successive perceptions1 and to suppose ourselves possessed of an invariable and uninterrupted existence through the whole course of our lives8 ,in order to answer this question1 we must distinguish between personal identity as it regards our thought and imagination1 and as it regards our passions1 or the concern we take in ourselves4 ,the first is our present subject2 and to explain it perfectly we must take the matter pretty deep1 and account for that identity which we attribute to plants and animals2 there being a great analogy betwixt it and the identity of a self or person4--7,i4 pp4 #cba1 #cbb47 ,perfect identity is exhibited by an object which remains unchanged throughout a certain time2 perfect diversity is seen in two or more objects which are separated by intervals of space and periods of time4 ,but1 in both these cases1 there is no sharp line of demarcation between identity and diversity1 and it is impossible to say when an object ceases to be one and becomes two4 ,when a sea-anemone multiplies by division1 there is a time during which it is said to be one animal partially divided2 but1 after a while1 it becomes two animals adherent together1 and the limit between these conditions is purely arbitrary4 ,so in mineralogy1 a crystal of a definite chemical composition may have its substance replaced1 particle by particle1 by another chemical compound4 ,when does it lose its primitive identity and become a new thing8 ,again1 a plant or an animal1 in the course of its existence1 from the condition of an egg or seed to the end of life1 remains the same neither in form1 nor in structure1 nor in the matter of which it is composed3 every attribute it possesses is constantly changing1 and yet we say that it is always one and the same individual4 ,and if1 in this case1 we attribute identity without supposing an indivisible immaterial something to underlie and condition that identity1 why should we need the supposition in the case of that succession of changeful phenomena we call the mind8 ,in fact1 we ascribe identity to an individual plant or animal1 simply because there has been no moment of time at which we could observe any division of it into parts separated by time or space4 ,every experience we have of it is as one thing and not as two2 and we sum up our experiences in the ascription of identity1 although we know quite well that1 strictly speaking1 it has not been the same for any two moments4 ,so with the mind4 ,our perceptions flow in even succession2 the impressions of the present moment are inextricably mixed up with the memories of yesterday and the expectations of to-morrow1 and all are connected by the links of cause and effect4 444 as the same individual republic may not only change its members1 but also its laws and constitutions2 in like manner the same person may vary his character and disposition1 as well as his impressions and ideas1 without losing his identity4 ,whatever changes he endures1 his several parts are still connected by the relation of causation4 ,and in this view our identity with regard to the passions serves to corroborate that with regard to the imagination1 by the making our distant perceptions influence each other1 and by giving us a present concern for our past or future pains or pleasures4 ,as memory alone acquaints us with the continuance and extent of this succession of perceptions1 'tis to be considered1 upon that account chiefly1 as the source of personal identity4 ,had we no memory we never should have any notion of causation1 nor consequently of that chain of causes and effects which constitute our self or person4 ,but having once acquired this notion of causation from the memory1 we can extend the same chain of causes1 and consequently the identity of our persons1 beyond our memory1 and can comprehend times1 and circumstances1 and actions1 which we have entirely forgot1 but suppose in general to have existed4 ,for how few of our past actions are there of which we have any memory8 ,who can tell me1 for instance1 what were his thoughts and actions on the first of ,january1 #agae1 the eleventh of ,march1 #agai1 and the third of ,august1 #agcc8 ,or will he affirm1 because he has entirely forgot the incidents of those days1 that the present self is not the same person with the self of that time1 and by that means overturn all the most established notions of personal identity8 ,in this view1 therefore1 memory does not so much produce as discover personal identity1 by showing us the relation of cause and effect among our different perceptions4 ',twill be incumbent on those who affirm that memory produces entirely our personal identity1 to give a reason why we can thus extend our identity beyond our memory4 ,the whole of this doctrine leads us to a conclusion which is of great importance in the present affair1 viz4 that all the nice and subtle questions concerning personal identity can never possibly be decided1 and are to be regarded rather as grammatical than as philosophical difficulties4 ,identity depends on the relations of ideas1 and these relations produce identity by means of that easy transition they occasion4 ,but as the relations1 and the easiness of the transition may diminish by insensible degrees1 we have no just standard by which we can decide any dispute concerning the time when they acquire or lose a title to the name of identity4 ,all the disputes concerning the identity of connected objects are merely verbal1 except so far as the relation of parts gives rise to some fiction or imaginary principle of union1 as we have already observed4 ,what ,i have said concerning the first origin and uncertainty of our notion of identity1 as applied to the human mind may be extended1 with little or no variation1 to that of simplicity4 ,an object1 whose different co-existent parts are bound together by a close relation1 operates upon the imagination after much the same manner as one perfectly simple and undivisible1 and requires not a much greater stretch of thought in order to its conception4 ,from this similarity of operation we attribute a simplicity to it1 and feign a principle of union as the support of this simplicity1 and the centre of all the different parts and qualities of the object4--7,i4 pp4 #cca-c47 ,the final result of ,hume's reasoning comes to this3 ,as we use the name of body for the sum of the phenomena which make up our corporeal existence1 so we employ the name of soul for the sum of the phenomena which constitute our mental existence2 and we have no more reason1 in the latter case1 than in the former1 to suppose that there is anything beyond the phenomena which answers to the name4 ,in the case of the soul1 as in that of the body1 the idea of substance is a mere fiction of the imagination4 ,this conclusion is nothing but a rigorous application of ,berkeley's reasoning concerning matter to mind1 and it is fully adopted by ,kant4#ce ,having arrived at the conclusion that the conception of a soul1 as a substantive thing1 is a mere figment of the imagination2 and that1 whether it exists or not1 we can by no possibility know anything about it1 the inquiry as to the durability of the soul may seem superfluous4 ,nevertheless1 there is still a sense in which1 even under these conditions1 such an inquiry is justifiable4 ,leaving aside the problem of the substance of the soul1 and taking the word soul simply as a name for the series of mental phenomena which make up an individual mind2 it remains open to us to ask1 whether that series commenced with1 or before1 the series of phenomena which constitute the corresponding individual body2 and whether it terminates with the end of the corporeal series1 or goes on after the existence of the body has ended4 ,and1 in both cases1 there arises the further question1 whether the excess of duration of the mental series over that of the body1 is finite or infinite4 ,hume has discussed some of these questions in the remarkable essay ,on the ,immortality of the ,soul1 which was not published till after his death1 and which seems long to have remained but little known4 ,nevertheless1 indeed1 possibly1 for that reason1 its influence has been manifested in unexpected quarters1 and its main arguments have been adduced by archiepiscopal and episcopal authority in evidence of the value of revelation4 ,dr4 ,whately1#cf sometime ,archbishop of ,dublin1 paraphrases ,hume1 though he forgets to cite him2 and ,bishop ,courtenay's elaborate work1#cg dedicated to the ,archbishop1 is a development of that prelate's version of ,hume's essay4 ,this little paper occupies only some ten pages1 but it is not wonderful that it attracted an acute logician like ,whately1 for it is a model of clear and vigorous statement4 ,the argument hardly admits of condensation1 so that ,i must let ,hume speak for himself3-- ,by the mere light of reason it seems difficult to prove the immortality of the soul3 the arguments for it are commonly derived either from metaphysical topics1 or moral1 or physical4 ,but in reality it is the gospel1 and the gospel alone1 that has brought life and immortality to light4#ch #a4 ,metaphysical topics suppose that the soul is immaterial1 and that 'tis impossible for thought to belong to a material substance4#ci ,but just metaphysics teach us that the notion of substance is wholly confused and imperfect2 and that we have no other idea of any substance1 than as an aggregate of particular qualities inhering in an unknown something4 ,matter1 therefore1 and spirit1 are at bottom equally unknown1 and we cannot determine what qualities inhere in the one or in the other4#dj ,they likewise teach us1 that nothing can be decided a priori concerning any cause or effect2 and that experience1 being the only source of our judgments of this nature1 we cannot know from any other principle1 whether matter1 by its structure or arrangement1 may not be the cause of thought4 ,abstract reasonings cannot decide any question of fact or existence4 ,but admitting a spiritual substance to be dispersed throughout the universe1 like the ethereal fire of the ,stoics1 and to be the only inherent subject of thought1 we have reason to conclude from analogy1 that nature uses it after the manner she does the other substance1 matter4 ,she employs it as a kind of paste or clay2 modifies it into a variety of forms or existences2 dissolves after a time each modification1 and from its substance erects a new form4 ,as the same material substance may successively compose the bodies of all animals1 the same spiritual substance may compose their minds3 ,their consciousness1 or that system of thought which they formed during life1 may be continually dissolved by death1 and nothing interests them in the new modification4 ,the most positive assertors of the mortality of the soul never denied the immortality of its substance2 and that an immaterial substance1 as well as a material1 may lose its memory or consciousness1 appears in part from experience1 if the soul be immaterial4 ,seasoning from the common course of nature1 and without supposing any new interposition of the ,supreme ,cause1 which ought always to be excluded from philosophy1 what is incorruptible must also be ingenerable4 ,the soul1 therefore1 if immortal1 existed before our birth1 and if the former existence noways concerned us1 neither will the latter4 ,animals undoubtedly feel1 think1 love1 hate1 will1 and even reason1 though in a more imperfect manner than men3 ,are their souls also immaterial and immortal8#da ,hume next proceeds to consider the moral arguments1 and chiefly 444 those derived from the justice of ,god1 which is supposed to be further interested in the future punishment of the vicious and reward of the virtuous4 ,but if by the justice of ,god we moan the same attribute which we call justice in ourselves1 then why should either reward or punishment be extended beyond this life8#db ,our sole means of knowing anything is the reasoning faculty which ,god has given us2 and that reasoning faculty not only denies us any conception of a future state1 but fails to furnish a single valid argument in favour of the belief that the mind will endure after the dissolution of the body4 444 ,if any purpose of nature be clear1 we may affirm that the whole scope and intention of man's creation1 so far as we can judge by natural reason1 is limited to the present life4 ,to the argument that the powers of man are so much greater than the needs of this life require1 that they suggest a future scene in which they can be employed1 ,hume replies3-- ,if the reason of man gives him great superiority above other animals1 his necessities are proportionably multiplied upon him2 his whole time1 his whole capacity1 activity1 courage1 and passion1 find sufficient employment in fencing against the miseries of his present condition2 and frequently1 nay1 almost always1 are too slender for the business assigned them4 ,a pair of shoes1 perhaps1 was never yet wrought to the highest degree of perfection that commodity is capable of attaining2 yet it is necessary1 at least very useful1 that there should be some politicians and moralists1 even some geometers1 poets and philosophers1 among mankind4 ,the powers of men are no more superior to their wants1 considered merely in this life1 than those of foxes and hares are1 compared to their wants and to their period of existence4 ,the inference from parity of reason is therefore obvious4 ,in short1 ,hume argues that1 if the faculties with which we are endowed are unable to discover a future state1 and if the most attentive consideration of their nature serves to show that they are adapted to this life and nothing more1 it is surely inconsistent with any conception of justice that we should be dealt with1 as if we had all along had a clear knowledge of the fact thus carefully concealed from us4 ,what should we think of the justice of a father1 who gave his son every reason to suppose that a trivial fault would only be visited by a box on the ear2 and then1 years afterwards1 put him on the rack for a week for the same fault8 ,again1 the suggestion arises1 if ,god is the cause of all things1 he is responsible for evil as well as for good2 and it appears utterly irreconcilable with our notions of justice that he should punish another for that which he has1 in fact1 done himself4 ,moreover1 just punishment bears a proportion to the offence1 while suffering which is infinite is ipso facto disproportionate to any finite deed4 ,why then eternal punishment for the temporary offences of so frail a creature as man8 ,can any one approve of ,alexander's rage1 who intended to exterminate a whole nation because they had seized his favourite horse ,bucephalus8 ,heaven and hell suppose two distinct species of men1 the good and the bad2 but the greatest part of mankind float betwixt vice and virtue4 ,were one to go round the world with the intention of giving a good supper to the righteous and a sound drubbing to the wicked1 he would frequently be embarrassed in his choice1 and would find the merits and demerits of most men and women scarcely amount to the value of either4#dc ,one can but admire the broad humanity and the insight into the springs of action manifest in this passage4 ,comprendre est moiti pardonner4 ,the more one knows of the real conditions which determine men's acts the less one finds either to praise or blame4 ,for kindly ,david ,hume1 the damnation of one man is an infinitely greater evil in the universe than the subversion of a thousand million of kingdoms4 ,and he would have felt with his countryman ,burns1 that even auld ,nickie ,ben should hae a chance4 ,as against those who reason for the necessity of a future state1 in order that the justice of the ,deity may be satisfied1 ,hume's argumentation appears unanswerable4 ,for if the justice of ,god resembles what we mean by justice1 the bestowal of infinite happiness for finite well-doing and infinite misery for finite ill-doing1 it is in no sense just4 ,and1 if the justice of ,god does not resemble what we mean by justice1 it is an abuse of language to employ the name of justice for the attribute described by it4 ,but1 as against those who choose to argue that there is nothing in what is known to us of the attributes of the ,deity inconsistent with a future state of rewards and punishments1 ,hume's pleadings have no force4 ,bishop ,butler's argument that1 inasmuch as the visitation of our acts by rewards and punishments takes place in this life1 rewards and punishments must be consistent with the attributes of the ,deity1 and therefore may go on as long as the mind endures1 is unanswerable4 ,whatever exists is1 by the hypothesis1 existent by the will of ,god2 and1 therefore1 the pains and pleasures which exist now may go on existing for all eternity1 either increasing1 diminishing1 or being endlessly varied in their intensity1 as they are now4 ,it is remarkable that ,hume does not refer to the sentimental arguments for the immortality of the soul which are so much in vogue at the present day2 and which are based upon our desire for a longer conscious existence than that which nature appears to have allotted to us4 ,perhaps he did not think them worth notice4 ,for indeed it is not a little strange1 that our strong desire that a certain occurrence should happen should be put forward as evidence that it will happen4 ,if my intense desire to see the friend1 from whom ,i have parted1 does not bring him from the other side of the world1 or take me thither2 if the mother's agonised prayer that her child should live has not prevented him from dying2 experience certainly affords no presumption that the strong desire to be alive after death1 which we call the aspiration after immortality1 is any more likely to be gratified4 ,as ,hume truly says1 ,all doctrines are to be suspected which are favoured by our passions2 and the doctrine1 that we are immortal because we should extremely like to be so1 contains the quintessence of suspiciousness4 ,in respect of the existence and attributes of the soul1 as of those of the ,deity1 then1 logic is powerless and reason silent4 ,at the most we can get no further than the conclusion of ,kant3-- ,after we have satisfied ourselves of the vanity of all the ambitious attempts of reason to fly beyond the bounds of experience1 enough remains of practical value to content us4 ,it is true that no one may boast that he knows that ,god and a future life exist2 for1 if he possesses such knowledge1 he is just the man for whom ,i have long been seeking4 ,all knowledge 7touching an object of mere reason7 can be communicated1 and therefore ,i might hope to see my own knowledge increased to this prodigious extent1 by his instruction4 ,no2 our conviction in these matters is not logical1 but moral certainty2 and1 inasmuch as it rests upon subjective grounds1 7of moral disposition7 ,i must not even say3 it is morally certain that there is a ,god1 and so on2 but1 ,i am morally certain1 and so on4 ,that is to say3 the belief in a ,god and in another world is so interwoven with my moral nature1 that the former can no more vanish1 than the latter can ever be torn from me4 ,the only point to be remarked here is that this act of faith of the intellect 7,vernunftglaube7 assumes the existence of moral dispositions4 ,if we leave them aside1 and suppose a mind quite indifferent to moral laws1 the inquiry started by reason becomes merely a subject for speculation2 and the conclusion attained may then indeed be supported by strong arguments from analogy1 but not by such as are competent to overcome persistent scepticism4 ,there is no one1 however1 who can fail to be interested in these questions4 ,for1 although he may be excluded from moral influences by the want of a good disposition1 yet1 even in this case1 enough remains to lead him to fear a divine existence and a future state4 ,to this end1 no more is necessary than that he can at least have no certainty that there is no such being1 and no future life2 for1 to make this conclusion demonstratively certain1 he must be able to prove the impossibility of both2 and this assuredly no rational man can undertake to do4 ,this negative belief1 indeed1 cannot produce either morality or good dispositions1 but can operate in an analogous fashion1 by powerfully repressing the outbreak of evil tendencies4 ,but it will be said1 is this all that ,pure ,reason can do when it gazes out beyond the bounds of experience8 ,nothing more than two articles of faith8 ,common sense could achieve as much without calling the philosophers to its counsels6 ,i will not here speak of the service which philosophy has rendered to human reason by the laborious efforts of its criticism1 granting that the outcome proves to be merely negative3 about that matter something is to be said in the following section4 ,but do you then ask1 that the knowledge which interests all men shall transcend the common understanding and be discovered for you only by philosophers8 ,the very thing which you make a reproach1 is the best confirmation of the justice of the previous conclusions1 since it shows that which could not1 at first1 have been anticipated3 namely1 that in those matters which concern all men alike1 nature is not guilty of distributing her gifts with partiality2 and that the highest philosophy1 in dealing with the most important concerns of humanity1 is able to take us no further than the guidance which she affords to the commonest understanding4#dd ,in short1 nothing can be proved or disproved1 respecting either the distinct existence1 the substance1 or the durability of the soul4 ,so far1 ,kant is at one with ,hume4 ,but ,kant adds1 as you cannot disprove the immortality of the soul1 and as the belief therein is very useful for moral purposes1 you may assume it4 ,to which1 had ,hume lived half a century later1 he would probably have replied1 that1 if morality has no better foundation than an assumption1 it is not likely to bear much strain2 and1 if it has a better foundation1 the assumption rather weakens than strengthens it4 ,as has been already said1 ,hume is not content with denying that we know anything about the existence or the nature of the soul2 but he carries the war into the enemy's camp1 and accuses those who affirm the immateriality1 simplicity1 and indivisibility of the thinking substance1 of atheism and ,spinozism1 which are assumed to be convertible terms4 ,the method of attack is ingenious4 ,observation appears to acquaint us with two different systems of beings1 and both ,spinoza and orthodox philosophers agree1 that the necessary substratum of each of these is a substance1 in which the phenomena adhere1 or of which they are attributes or modes4 ,i observe first the universe of objects or of body2 the sun1 moon1 and stars2 the earth1 seas1 plants1 animals1 men1 ships1 houses1 and other productions either of art or of nature4 ,here ,spinoza appears1 and tells me that these are only modifications and that the subject in which they inhere is simple1 uncompounded1 and indivisible4 ,after this ,i consider the other system of beings1 viz4 the universe of thought1 or my impressions and ideas4 ,then ,i observe another sun1 moon1 and stars2 an earth and seas1 covered and inhabited by plants and animals1 towns1 houses1 mountains1 rivers2 and1 in short1 everything ,i can discover or conceive in the first system4 ,upon my inquiring concerning these1 theologians present themselves1 and tell me that these also are modifications1 and modifications of one simple1 uncompounded1 and indivisible substance4 ,immediately upon which ,i am deafened with the noise of a hundred voices1 that treat the first hypothesis with detestation and scorn1 and the second with applause and veneration4 ,i turn my attention to these hypotheses to see what may be the reason of so great a partiality2 and find that they have the same fault of being unintelligible1 and that1 as far as we can understand them1 they are so much alike1 that 'tis impossible to discover any absurdity in one1 which is not common to both of them4--7,i4 p4 #cji47 ,for the manner in which ,hume makes his case good1 ,i must refer to the original4 ,plain people may rest satisfied that both hypotheses are unintelligible1 without plunging any further among syllogisms1 the premisses of which convey no meaning1 while the conclusions carry no conviction4 ,,footnotes3 #ce ,our internal intuition shows no permanent existence1 for the ,ego is only the consciousness of my thinking4 ,there is no means whatever by which we can learn anything respecting the constitution of the soul1 so far as regards the possibility of its separate existence4--,kritik von den ,paralogismen der reinen ,vernunft4 #cf ,essays on ,some of the ,peculiarities of the ,christian ,religion1 7,essay ,i4 ,revelation of a ,future ,state71 by ,richard ,whately1 ,d4,d41 ,archbishop of ,dublin4 ,fifth ,edition1 revised1 #ahdf4 #cg ,the ,future ,states3 their ,evidences and ,nature2 considered on ,principles ,physical1 ,moral1 and ,scriptural1 with the ,design of showing the ,value of the ,gospel ,revelation by the ,right ,rev4 ,reginald ,courtenay1 ,d4,d41 ,lord ,bishop of ,kingston 7,jamaica71 #aheg4 #ch ,now that ',jesus ,christ brought life and immortality to light through the ,gospel1' and that in the most literal sense1 which implies that the revelation of the doctrine is peculiar to ,his ,gospel1 seems to be at least the most obvious meaning of the ,scriptures of the ,new ,testament4--,whately1 l4c4 p4 #bg4 #ci ,compare1 ,of the ,immateriality of the ,soul1 ,section ,v4 of ,part ,,iv41 ,book ,i41 of the ,treatise1 in which ,hume concludes 7,i4 p4 #cai7 that1 whether it be material or immaterial1 in both cases the metaphysical arguments for the immortality of the soul are equally inconclusive2 and in both cases the moral arguments and those derived from the analogy of nature are equally strong and convincing4 #dj ,the question again respecting the materiality of the soul is one which ,i am at a loss to understand clearly1 till it shall have been clearly determined what matter is4 ,we know nothing of it1 any more than of mind1 except its attributes4--,whately1 l4c4 p4 #ff4 #da ,none of those who contend for the natural immortality of the soul 444 have been able to extricate themselves from one difficulty1 viz4 that all their arguments apply1 with exactly the same force1 to prove an immortality1 not only of brutes1 but even of plants2 though in such a conclusion as this they are never willing to acquiesce4--,whately1 l4c4 p4 #fg4 #db ,nor are we therefore authorised to infer priori1 independent of ,revelation1 a future state of retribution1 from the irregularities prevailing in the present life1 since that future state does not account fully for these irregularities4 ,it may explain1 indeed1 how present evil may be conducive to future good1 but not why the good could not be attained without the evil2 it may reconcile with our notions of the divine justice the present prosperity of the wicked1 but it does not account for the existence of the wicked4--,whately1 l4c4 pp4 #fi1 #gj4 #dc ,so reason also shows1 that for man to expect to earn for himself by the practice of virtue1 and claim1 as his just right1 an immortality of exalted happiness1 is a most extravagant and groundless pretension4--,whately1 l4c4 p4 #aja4 ,on the other hand1 however1 the ,archbishop sees no unreasonableness in a man's earning for himself an immortality of intense unhappiness by the practice of vice4 ,so that life is1 naturally1 a venture in which you may lose all1 but can earn nothing4 ,it may be thought somewhat hard upon mankind if they are pushed into a speculation of this sort1 willy-nilly4 #dd ,kritik der reinen ,vernunft4 ,ed4 ,hartenstein1 p4 #edg4 ,,chapter ,x4 ,,volition3 ,,liberty ,,and ,,necessity4 ,in the opening paragraphs of the third part of the second book of the ,treatise1 ,hume gives a description of the will4 ,of all the immediate effects of pain and pleasure there is none more remarkable than the will2 and though1 properly speaking1 it be not comprehended among the passions1 yet as the full understanding of its nature and properties is necessary to the explanation of them1 we shall here make it the subject of our inquiry4 ,i desire it may be observed1 that1 by the will1 ,i mean nothing but the internal impression we feel1 and are conscious of1 when we knowingly give rise to any new motion of our body1 or new perception of our mind4 ,this impression1 like the preceding ones of pride and humility1 love and hatred1 'tis impossible to define1 and needless to describe any further4--7,,ii4 p4 #aej47 ,this description of volition may be criticised on various grounds4 ,more especially does it seem defective in restricting the term will to that feeling which arises when we act1 or appear to act1 as causes3 for one may will to strike1 without striking2 or to think of something which we have forgotten4 ,every volition is a complex idea composed of two elements3 the one is the idea of an action2 the other is a desire for the occurrence of that action4 ,if ,i will to strike1 ,i have an idea of a certain movement1 and a desire that that movement should take place2 if ,i will to think of any subject1 or1 in other words1 to attend to that subject1 ,i have an idea of the subject and a strong desire that it should remain present to my consciousness4 ,and so far as ,i can discover1 this combination of an idea of an object with an emotion1 is everything that can be directly observed in an act of volition4 ,so that ,hume's definition may be amended thus3 ,volition is the impression which arises when the idea of a bodily or mental action is accompanied by the desire that the action should be accomplished4 ,it differs from other desires simply in the fact1 that we regard ourselves as possible causes of the action desired4 ,two questions arise1 in connexion with the observation of the phenomenon of volition1 as they arise out of the contemplation of all other natural phenomena4 ,firstly1 has it a cause2 and1 if so1 what is its cause8 ,secondly1 is it followed by any effect1 and if so1 what effect does it produce8 ,hume points out1 that the nature of the phenomena we consider can have nothing to do with the origin of the conception that they are connected by the relation of cause and effect4 ,for that relation is nothing but an order of succession1 which1 so far as our experience goes1 is invariable2 and it is obvious that the nature of phenomena has nothing to do with their order4 ,whatever it is that leads us to seek for a cause for every event1 in the case of the phenomena of the external world1 compels us1 with equal cogency1 to seek it in that of the mind4 ,the only meaning of the law of causation1 in the physical world1 is1 that it generalises universal experience of the order of that world2 and1 if experience shows a similar order to obtain among states of consciousness1 the law of causation will properly express that order4 ,that such an order exists1 however1 is acknowledged by every sane man3 ,our idea1 therefore1 of necessity and causation1 arises entirely from the uniformity observable in the operations of nature1 where similar objects are constantly conjoined together1 and the mind is determined by custom to infer the one from the appearance of the other4 ,these two circumstances form the whole of that necessity which we ascribe to matter4 ,beyond the constant conjunction of similar objects and the consequent inference from one to the other1 we have no notion of any necessity of connexion4 ,if it appear1 therefore1 what all mankind have ever allowed1 without any doubt or hesitation1 that these two circumstances take place in the voluntary actions of men1 and in the operations of mind1 it must follow that all mankind have ever agreed in the doctrine of necessity1 and that they have hitherto disputed merely from not understanding each other4--7,,iv4 p4 #ig47 ,but is this constant conjunction observable in human actions8 ,a student of history could give but one answer to this question3 ,ambition1 avarice1 self-love1 vanity1 friendship1 generosity1 public spirit3 these passions1 mixed in various degrees1 and distributed through society1 have been1 from the beginning of the world1 and still are1 the source of all the actions and enterprizes which have ever been observed among mankind4 ,would you know the sentiments1 inclinations1 and course of life of the ,greeks and ,romans8 ,study well the temper and actions of the ,french and ,english4 ,you cannot be much mistaken in transferring to the former most of the observations which you have made with regard to the latter4 ,mankind are so much the same1 in all times and places1 that history informs us of nothing new or strange in this particular4 ,its chief use is only to discover the constant and universal principles of human nature1 by showing men in all varieties of circumstances and situations1 and furnishing us with materials from which we may form our observations1 and become acquainted with the regular springs of human action and behaviour4 ,these records of wars1 intrigues1 factions1 and revolutions are so many collections of experiments1 by which the politician or moral philosopher fixes the principles of his science1 in the same manner as the physician or natural philosopher becomes acquainted with the nature of plants1 minerals1 and other external objects1 by the experiments which he forms concerning them4 ,nor are the earth1 air1 water1 and other elements examined by ,aristotle and ,hippocrates more like to those which at present lie under our observation1 than the men described by ,polybius and ,tacitus are to those who now govern the world4--7,,iv4 pp4 #ig-h47 ,hume proceeds to point out that the value set upon experience in the conduct of affairs1 whether of business or of politics1 involves the acknowledgment that we base our expectation of what men will do1 upon our observation of what they have done2 and1 that we are as firmly convinced of the fixed order of thoughts as we are of that of things4 ,and1 if it be urged that human actions not unfrequently appear unaccountable and capricious1 his reply is prompt3-- ,i grant it possible to find some actions which seem to have no regular connexion with any known motives1 and are exceptions to all the measures of conduct which have ever been established for the government of men4 ,but if one could willingly know what judgment should be formed of such irregular and extraordinary actions1 we may consider the sentiments commonly entertained with regard to those irregular events which appear in the course of nature1 and the operations of external objects4 ,all causes are not conjoined to their usual effects with like uniformity4 ,an artificer1 who handles only dead matter1 may be disappointed in his aim1 as well as the politician who directs the conduct of sensible and intelligent agents4 ,the vulgar1 who take things according to their first appearance1 attribute the uncertainty of events to such an uncertainty in the causes as make the latter often fail of their usual influence1 though they meet with no impediment to their operation4 ,but philosophers1 observing that1 almost in every part of nature1 there is contained a vast variety of springs and principles1 which are hid1 by reason of their minuteness or remoteness1 find that it is at least possible the contrariety of events may not proceed from any contingency in the cause1 but from the secret operation of contrary causes4 ,this possibility is converted into certainty by further observation1 when they remark that1 upon an exact scrutiny1 a contrariety of effects always betrays a contrariety of causes1 and proceeds from their mutual opposition4 ,a peasant can give no better reason for the stopping of any clock or watch1 than to say that it does not commonly go right4 ,but an artist easily perceives that the same force in the spring or pendulum has always the same influence on the wheels2 but fails of its usual effect1 perhaps by reason of a grain of dust1 which puts a stop to the whole movement4 ,from the observation of several parallel instances1 philosophers form a maxim1 that the connexion between all causes and effects is equally necessary1 and that its seeming uncertainty in some instances proceeds from the secret opposition of contrary causes4--7,,iv4 pp4 #aja-b47 ,so with regard to human actions3-- ,the internal principles and motives may operate in a uniform manner1 notwithstanding these seeming irregularities2 in the same manner as the winds1 rains1 clouds1 and other variations of the weather are supposed to be governed by steady principles2 though not easily discoverable by human sagacity and inquiry4--7,,iv4 p4 #ajc47 ,meteorology1 as a science1 was not in existence in ,hume's time1 or he would have left out the supposed to be4 ,in practice1 again1 what difference does any one make between natural and moral evidence8 ,a prisoner who has neither money nor interest1 discovers the impossibility of his escape1 as well when he considers the obstinacy of the gaoler1 as the walls and bars with which he is surrounded2 and1 in all attempts for his freedom1 chooses rather to work upon the stone and iron of the one1 than upon the inflexible nature of the other4 ,the same prisoner1 when conducted to the scaffold1 foresees his death as certainly from the constancy and fidelity of his guards1 as from the operation of the axe or wheel4 ,his mind runs along a certain train of ideas3 ,the refusal of the soldiers to consent to his escape2 the action of the executioner2 the separation of the head and body2 bleeding1 convulsive motions1 and death4 ,here is a connected chain of natural causes and voluntary actions2 but the mind feels no difference between them1 in passing from one link to another1 nor is less certain of the future event1 than if it were connected with the objects presented to the memory or senses1 by a train of causes cemented together by what we are pleased to call a physical necessity4 ,the same experienced union has the same effect on the mind1 whether the united objects be motives1 volition1 and actions2 or figure and motion4 ,we may change the names of things1 but their nature and their operation on the understanding never change4--7,,iv4 pp4 #aje-f47 ,but1 if the necessary connexion of our acts with our ideas has always been acknowledged in practice1 why the proclivity of mankind to deny it words8 ,if we examine the operations of body1 and the production of effects from their causes1 we shall find that all our faculties can never carry us further in our knowledge of this relation1 than barely to observe1 that particular objects are constantly conjoined together1 and that the mind is carried1 by a customary transition1 from the appearance of the one to the belief of the other4 ,but though this conclusion concerning human ignorance be the result of the strictest scrutiny of this subject1 men still entertain a strong propensity to believe1 that they penetrate further into the province of nature1 and perceive something like a necessary connexion between cause and effect4 ,when1 again1 they turn their reflections towards the operations of their own minds1 and feel no such connexion between the motive and the action2 they are thence apt to suppose1 that there is a difference between the effects which result from material force1 and those which arise from thought and intelligence4 ,but1 being once convinced1 that we know nothing of causation of any kind1 than merely the constant conjunction of objects1 and the consequent inference of the mind from one to another1 and finding that these two circumstances are universally allowed to have place in voluntary actions2 we may be more easily led to own the same necessity common to all causes4--7,,iv4 pp4 #ajg1 #h47 ,the last asylum of the hard-pressed advocate of the doctrine of uncaused volition is usually1 that1 argue as you like1 he has a profound and ineradicable consciousness of what he calls the freedom of his will4 ,but ,hume follows him even here1 though only in a note1 as if he thought the extinction of so transparent a sophism hardly worthy of the dignity of his text4 ,the prevalence of the doctrine of liberty may be accounted for from another cause1 viz4 a false sensation1 or seeming experience1 which we have1 or may have1 of liberty or indifference in many of our actions4 ,the necessity of any action1 whether of matter or of mind1 is not1 properly speaking1 a quality in the agent1 but in any thinking or intelligent being who may consider the action2 and it consists chiefly in the determination of his thoughts to infer the existence of that action from some preceding objects2 as liberty1 when opposed to necessity1 is nothing but the want of that determination1 and a certain looseness or indifference which we feel1 in passing or not passing1 from the idea of any object to the idea of any succeeding one4 ,now we may observe that though1 in reflecting on human actions1 we seldom feel such looseness or indifference1 but are commonly able to infer them with considerable certainty from their motives1 and from the dispositions of the agent2 yet it frequently happens1 that in performing the actions themselves1 we are sensible of something like it3 ,and as all resembling objects are taken for each other1 this has been employed as demonstrative and even intuitive proof of human liberty4 ,we feel that our actions are subject to our will on most occasions2 and imagine we feel1 that the will itself is subject to nothing1 because1 when by a denial of it we are provoked to try1 we feel that it moves easily every way1 and produces an image of itself 7or a ,velleity as it is called in the schools71 even on that side on which it did not settle4 ,this image or faint notion1 we persuade ourselves1 could at that time have been completed into the thing itself2 because1 should that be denied1 we find upon a second trial that at present it can4 ,we consider not that the fantastical desire of showing liberty is here the motive of our actions4--7,,iv4 p4 #aaj1 note47 ,moreover1 the moment the attempt is made to give a definite meaning to the words1 the supposed opposition between free will and necessity turns out to be a mere verbal dispute4 ,for what is meant by liberty1 when applied to voluntary actions8 ,we cannot surely mean1 that actions have so little connexion with motive1 inclinations1 and circumstances1 that one does not follow with a certain degree of uniformity from the other1 and that one affords no inference by which we can conclude the existence of the other4 ,for these are plain and acknowledged matters of fact4 ,by liberty1 then1 we can only mean a power of acting or not acting according to the determinations of the will2 that is1 if we choose to remain at rest1 we may2 if we choose to move1 we also may4 ,now this hypothetical liberty is universally allowed to belong to every one who is not a prisoner and in chains4 ,here then is no subject of dispute4--7,,iv4 p4 #aaa47 ,half the controversies about the freedom of the will would have had no existence1 if this pithy paragraph had been well pondered by those who oppose the doctrine of necessity4 ,for they rest upon the absurd presumption that the proposition1 ,i can do as ,i like1 is contradictory to the doctrine of necessity4 ,the answer is2 nobody doubts that1 at any rate within certain limits1 you can do as you like4 ,but what determines your likings and dislikings8 ,did you make your own constitution8 ,is it your contrivance that one thing is pleasant and another is painful8 ,and even if it were1 why did you prefer to make it after the one fashion rather than the other8 ,the passionate assertion of the consciousness of their freedom1 which is the favourite refuge of the opponents of the doctrine of necessity1 is mere futility1 for nobody denies it4 ,what they really have to do1 if they would upset the necessarian argument1 is to prove that they are free to associate any emotion whatever with any idea whatever2 to like pain as much as pleasure2 vice as much as virtue2 in short1 to prove1 that1 whatever may be the fixity of order of the universe of things1 that of thought is given over to chance4 ,in the second part of this remarkable essay1 ,hume considers the real1 or supposed1 immoral consequences of the doctrine of necessity1 premising the weighty observation that ,when any opinion leads to absurdity1 it is certainly false2 but it is not certain that an opinion is false because it is of dangerous consequence4--7,,iv4 p4 #aab47 ,and1 therefore1 that the attempt to refute an opinion by a picture of its dangerous consequences to religion and morality1 is as illogical as it is reprehensible4 ,it is said1 in the first place1 that necessity destroys responsibility2 that1 as it is usually put1 we have no right to praise or blame actions that cannot be helped4 ,hume's reply amounts to this1 that the very idea of responsibility implies the belief in the necessary connexion of certain actions with certain states of the mind4 ,a person is held responsible only for those acts which are preceded by a certain intention2 and1 as we cannot see1 or hear1 or feel1 an intention1 we can only reason out its existence on the principle that like effects have like causes4 ,if a man is found by the police busy with jemmy and dark lantern at a jeweller's shop door over night1 the magistrate before whom he is brought the next morning1 reasons from those effects to their causes in the fellow's burglarious ideas and volitions1 with perfect confidence1 and punishes him accordingly4 ,and it is quite clear that such a proceeding would be grossly unjust1 if the links of the logical process were other than necessarily connected together4 ,the advocate who should attempt to get the man off on the plea that his client need not necessarily have had a felonious intent1 would hardly waste his time more1 if he tried to prove that the sum of all the angles of a triangle is not two right angles1 but three4 ,a man's moral responsibility for his acts has1 in fact1 nothing to do with the causation of these acts1 but depends on the frame of mind which accompanies them4 ,common language tells us this1 when it uses well-disposed as the equivalent of good1 and evil-minded as that of wicked4 ,if ,a does something which puts ,b in a violent passion1 it is quite possible to admit that ,b's passion is the necessary consequence of ,a's act1 and yet to believe that ,b's fury is morally wrong1 or that he ought to control it4 ,in fact1 a calm bystander would reason with both on the assumption of moral necessity4 ,he would say to ,a1 ,you were wrong in doing a thing which you knew 7that is1 of the necessity of which you were convinced7 would irritate ,b4 ,and he would say to ,b1 ,you are wrong to give way to passion1 for you know its evil effects--that is the necessary connection between yielding to passion and evil4 ,so far1 therefore1 from necessity destroying moral responsibility1 it is the foundation of all praise and blame2 and moral admiration reaches its climax in the ascription of necessary goodness to the ,deity4 ,to the statement of another consequence of the necessarian doctrine1 that1 if there be a ,god1 he must be the cause of all evil as well as of all good1 ,hume gives no real reply--probably because none is possible4 ,but then1 if this conclusion is distinctly and unquestionably deducible from the doctrine of necessity1 it is no less unquestionably a direct consequence of every known form of monotheism4 ,if ,god is the cause of all things1 he must be the cause of evil among the rest2 if he is omniscient1 he must have the fore-knowledge of evil2 if he is almighty1 he must possess the power of preventing1 or of extinguishing evil4 ,and to say that an all-knowing and all-powerful being is not responsible for what happens1 because he only permits it1 is1 under its intellectual aspect1 a piece of childish sophistry2 while1 as to the moral look of it1 one has only to ask any decently honourable man1 whether1 under like circumstances1 he would try to get rid of his responsibility by such a plea4 ,hume's ,inquiry appeared in #agdh4 ,he does not refer to ,anthony ,collins' essay on ,liberty1 published thirty-three years before1 in which the same question is treated to the same effect1 with singular force and lucidity4 ,it may be said1 perhaps1 that it is not wonderful that the two freethinkers should follow the same line of reasoning2 but no such theory will account for the fact that in #aged1 the famous ,calvinistic divine1 ,jonathan ,edwards1 ,president of the ,college of ,new ,jersey1 produced1 in the interests of the straitest orthodoxy1 a demonstration of the necessarian thesis1 which has never been equalled in power1 and certainly has never been refuted4 ,in the ninth section of the fourth part of ,edwards' ,inquiry1 he has to deal with the ,arminian objection to the ,calvinistic doctrine that it makes ,god the author of sin2 and it is curious to watch the struggle between the theological controversialist1 striving to ward off an admission which he knows will be employed to damage his side1 and the acute logician1 conscious that1 in some shape or other1 the admission must be made4 ,beginning with a tu quoque1 that the ,arminian doctrine involves consequences as bad as the ,calvinistic view1 he proceeds to object to the term author of sin1 though he ends by admitting that1 in a certain sense1 it is applicable2 he proves from ,scripture1 that ,god is the disposer and orderer of sin2 and then1 by an elaborate false analogy with the darkness resulting from the absence of the sun1 endeavours to suggest that he is only the author of it in a negative sense2 and1 finally1 he takes refuge in the conclusion that1 though ,god is the orderer and disposer of those deeds which1 considered in relation to their agents1 are morally evil1 yet1 inasmuch as ,his purpose has all along been infinitely good1 they are not evil relatively to him4 ,and this1 of course1 may be perfectly true2 but if true1 it is inconsistent with the attribute of omnipotence4 ,it is conceivable that there should be no evil in the world2 that which is conceivable is certainly possible2 if it were possible for evil to be non-existent1 the maker of the world1 who1 though foreknowing the existence of evil in that world1 did not prevent it1 either did not really desire it should not exist1 or could not prevent its existence4 ,it might be well for those who inveigh against the logical consequences of necessarianism to bethink them of the logical consequences of theism2 which are not only the same1 when the attribute of ,omniscience is ascribed to the ,deity1 but which bring out1 from the existence of moral evil1 a hopeless conflict between the attributes of ,infinite ,benevolence and ,infinite ,power1 which1 with no less assurance1 are affirmed to appertain to the ,divine ,being4 ,kant's mode of dealing with the doctrine of necessity is very singular4 ,that the phenomena of the mind follow fixed relations of cause and effect is1 to him1 as unquestionable as it is to ,hume4 ,but then there is the ,ding an sich1 the ,noumenon1 or ,kantian equivalent for the substance of the soul4 ,this1 being out of the phenomenal world1 is subject to none of the laws of phenomena1 and is consequently as absolutely free1 and as completely powerless1 as a mathematical point1 in vacua1 would be4 ,hence volition is uncaused1 so far as it belongs to the noumenon2 but1 necessary1 so far as it takes effect in the phenomenal world4 ,since ,kant is never weary of telling us that we know nothing whatever1 and can know nothing1 about the noumenon1 except as the hypothetical subject of any number of negative predicates2 the information that it is free1 in the sense of being out of reach of the law of causation1 is about as valuable as the assertion that it is neither grey1 nor blue1 nor square4 ,for practical purposes1 it must be admitted that the inward possession of such a noumenal libertine does not amount to much for people whose actual existence is made up of nothing but definitely regulated phenomena4 ,when the good and evil angels fought for the dead body of ,moses1 its presence must have been of about the same value to either of the contending parties1 as that of ,kant's noumenon1 in the battle of impulses which rages in the breast of man4 ,metaphysicians1 as a rule1 are sadly deficient in the sense of humour2 or they would surely abstain from advancing propositions which1 when stripped of the verbiage in which they are disguised1 appear to the profane eye to be bare shams1 naked but not ashamed4 ,,chapter ,,xi4 ,,the ,,principles ,,of ,,morals4 ,in his autobiography1 ,hume writes3-- ,in the same year #ageb was published at ,london my ,inquiry ,concerning the ,principles of ,morals2 which in my own opinion 7who ought not to judge on that subject7 is of all my writings1 historical1 philosophical1 and literary1 incomparably the best4 ,it came unnoticed and unobserved into the world4 ,it may commonly be noticed that the relative value which an author ascribes to his own works rarely agrees with the estimate formed of them by his readers2 who criticise the products1 without either the power or the wish to take into account the pains which they may have cost the producer4 ,moreover1 the clear and dispassionate common sense of the ,inquiry concerning the ,principles of ,morals may have tasted flat after the highly-seasoned ,inquiry concerning the ,human ,understanding4 ,whether the public like to be deceived1 or not1 may be open to question2 but it is beyond a doubt that they love to be shocked in a pleasant and mannerly way4 ,now ,hume's speculations on moral questions are not so remote from those of respectable professors1 like ,hutcheson1 or saintly prelates1 such as ,butler1 as to present any striking novelty4 ,and they support the cause of righteousness in a cool1 reasonable1 indeed slightly patronising fashion1 eminently in harmony with the mind of the eighteenth century2 which admired virtue very much1 if she would only avoid the rigour which the age called fanaticism1 and the fervour which it called enthusiasm4 ,having applied the ordinary methods of scientific inquiry to the intellectual phenomena of the mind1 it was natural that ,hume should extend the same mode of investigation to its moral phenomena2 and1 in the true spirit of a natural philosopher1 he commences by selecting a group of those states of consciousness with which every one's personal experience must have made him familiar3 in the expectation that the discovery of the sources of moral approbation and disapprobation1 in this comparatively easy case1 may furnish the means of detecting them where they are more recondite4 ,we shall analyse that complication of mental qualities which form what1 in common life1 we call ,,personal ,,merit3 ,we shall consider every attribute of the mind1 which renders a man an object either of esteem and affection1 or of hatred and contempt2 every habit or sentiment or faculty1 which if ascribed to any person1 implies either praise or blame1 and may enter into any panegyric or satire of his character and manners4 ,the quick sensibility which1 on this head1 is so universal among mankind1 gives a philosopher sufficient assurance that he can never be considerably mistaken in framing the catalogue1 or incurs any danger of misplacing the objects of his contemplation3 ,he needs only enter into his own breast for a moment1 and consider whether he should or should not desire to have this or that quality assigned to him1 and whether such or such an imputation would proceed from a friend or an enemy4 ,the very nature of language guides us almost infallibly in forming a judgment of this nature2 and as every tongue possesses one set of words which are taken in a good sense1 and another in the opposite1 the least acquaintance with the idiom suffices1 without any reasoning1 to direct us in collecting and arranging the estimable or blamable qualities of men4 ,the only object of reasoning is to discover the circumstances on both sides1 which are common to these qualities2 to observe that particular in which the estimable qualities agree on the one hand1 and the blamable on the other1 and thence to reach the foundation of ethics1 and find their universal principles1 from which all censure or approbation is ultimately derived4 ,as this is a question of fact1 not of abstract science1 we can only expect success by following the experimental method1 and deducing general maxims from a comparison of particular instances4 ,the other scientifical method1 where a general abstract principle is first established1 and is afterwards branched out into a variety of inferences and conclusions1 may be more perfect in itself1 but suits less the imperfection of human nature1 and is a common source of illusion and mistake1 in this as well as in other subjects4 ,men are now cured of their passion for hypotheses and systems in natural philosophy1 and will hearken to no arguments but those which are derived from experience4 ,it is full time they should attempt a like reformation in all moral disquisitions2 and reject every system of ethics1 however subtile or ingenious1 which is not founded on fact and observation4--7,,iv4 pp4 #bdb-d47 ,no qualities give a man a greater claim to personal merit than benevolence and justice2 but if we inquire why benevolence deserves so much praise1 the answer will certainly contain a large reference to the utility of that virtue to society2 and as for justice1 the very existence of the virtue implies that of society2 public utility is its sole origin2 and the measure of its usefulness is also the standard of its merit4 ,if every man possessed everything he wanted1 and no one had the power to interfere with such possession2 or if no man desired that which could damage his fellow-man1 justice would have no part to play in the universe4 ,but as ,hume observes3-- ,in the present disposition of the human heart1 it would perhaps be difficult to find complete instances of such enlarged affections2 but still we may observe that the case of families approaches towards it2 and the stronger the mutual benevolence is among the individuals1 the nearer it approaches1 till all distinction of property be in a great measure lost and confounded among them4 ,between married persons1 the cement of friendship is by the laws supposed so strong1 as to abolish all division of possessions1 and has often1 in reality1 the force assigned to it4#de ,and it is observable that1 during the ardour of new enthusiasms1 when every principle is inflamed into extravagance1 the community of goods has frequently been attempted2 and nothing but experience of its inconveniences1 from the returning or disguised selfishness of men1 could make the imprudent fanatics adopt anew the ideas of justice and separate property4 ,so true is it that this virtue derives its existence entirely from its necessary use to the intercourse and social state of mankind4--7,,iv4 p4 #bef47 ,were the human species so framed by nature as that each individual possessed within himself every faculty requisite both for his own preservation and for the propagation of his kind3 ,were all society and intercourse cut off between man and man by the primary intention of the ,supreme ,creator3 ,it seems evident that so solitary a being would be as much incapable of justice as of social discourse and conversation4 ,where mutual regard and forbearance serve to no manner of purpose1 they would never direct the conduct of any reasonable man4 ,the headlong course of the passions would be checked by no reflection on future consequences4 ,and as each man is here supposed to love himself alone1 and to depend only on himself and his own activity for safety and happiness1 he would1 on every occasion1 to the utmost of his power1 challenge the preference above every other being1 to none of which he is bound by any ties1 either of nature or of interest4 ,but suppose the conjunction of the sexes to be established in nature1 a family immediately arises2 and particular rules being found requisite for its subsistence1 these are immediately embraced1 though without comprehending the rest of mankind within their prescriptions4 ,suppose that several families unite together in one society1 which is totally disjoined from all others1 the rules which preserve peace and order enlarge themselves to the utmost extent of that society2 but becoming then entirely useless1 lose their force when carried one step further4 ,but again1 suppose that several distinct societies maintain a kind of intercourse for mutual convenience and advantage1 the boundaries of justice still grow larger1 in proportion to the largeness of men's views and the force of their mutual connexion4 ,history1 experience1 reason1 sufficiently instruct us in this natural progress of human sentiments1 and in the gradual enlargement of our regard to justice in proportion as we become acquainted with the extensive utility of that virtue4--7,,iv4 pp4 #bfb-d47 ,the moral obligation of justice and the rights of property are by no means diminished by this exposure of the purely utilitarian basis on which they rest3-- ,for what stronger foundation can be desired or conceived for any duty1 than to observe that human society1 or even human nature1 could not subsist without the establishment of it1 and will still arrive at greater degrees of happiness and perfection1 the more inviolable the regard is which is paid to that duty8 ,the dilemma seems obvious3 ,as justice evidently tends to promote public utility1 and to support civil society1 the sentiment of justice is either derived from our reflecting on that tendency1 or1 like hunger1 thirst1 and other appetites1 resentment1 love of life1 attachment to offspring1 and other passions1 arises from a simple original instinct in the human heart1 which nature has implanted for like salutary purposes4 ,if the latter be the case1 it follows that property1 which is the object of justice1 is also distinguished by a simple original instinct1 and is not ascertained by any argument or reflection4 ,but who is there that ever heard of such an instinct8 ,or is this a subject in which new discoveries can be made8 ,we may as well expect to discover in the body new senses which had before escaped the observation of all mankind4--7,,iv4 pp4 #bgc1 #d47 ,the restriction of the object of justice to property1 in this passage1 is singular4 ,pleasure and pain can hardly be included under the term property1 and yet justice surely deals largely with the withholding of the former1 or the infliction of the latter1 by men on one another4 ,if a man bars another from a pleasure which he would otherwise enjoy1 or actively hurts him without good reason1 the latter is said to be injured as much as if his property had been interfered with4 ,here1 indeed1 it may be readily shown1 that it is as much the interest of society that men should not interfere with one another's freedom1 or mutually inflict positive or negative pain1 as that they should not meddle with one another's property2 and hence the obligation of justice in such matters may be deduced4 ,but1 if a man merely thinks ill of another1 or feels maliciously towards him without due cause1 he is properly said to be unjust4 ,in this case it would be hard to prove that any injury is done to society by the evil thought2 but there is no question that it will be stigmatised as an injustice2 and the offender himself1 in another frame of mind1 is often ready enough to admit that he has failed to be just towards his neighbour4 ,however1 it may plausibly be said1 that so slight a barrier lies between thought and speech1 that any moral quality attached to the latter is easily transferred to the former2 and that1 since open slander is obviously opposed to the interests of society1 injustice of thought1 which is silent slander1 must become inextricably associated with the same blame4 ,but1 granting the utility to society of all kinds of benevolence and justice1 why should the quality of those virtues involve the sense of moral obligation8 ,hume answers this question in the fifth section1 entitled1 ,why ,utility ,pleases4 ,he repudiates the deduction of moral approbation from self-love1 and utterly denies that we approve of benevolent or just actions because we think of the benefits which they are likely to confer indirectly on ourselves4 ,the source of the approbation with which we view an act useful to society must be sought elsewhere2 and1 in fact1 is to be found in that feeling which is called sympathy4 ,no man is absolutely indifferent to the happiness and misery of others4 ,the first has a natural tendency to give pleasure1 the second pain4 ,this every one may find in himself4 ,it is not probable that these principles can be resolved into principles more simple and universal1 whatever attempts may have been made for that purpose4--7,,iv4 p4 #bid1 ,note47 ,other men's joys and sorrows are not spectacles at which we remain unmoved3-- 444 ,the view of the former1 whether in its causes or effects1 like sunshine1 or the prospect of well-cultivated plains 7to carry our pretensions no higher7 communicates a secret joy and satisfaction2 the appearance of the latter1 like a lowering cloud or barren landscape1 throws a melancholy damp over the imagination4 ,and this concession being once made1 the difficulty is over2 and a natural unforced interpretation of the phenomena of human life will afterwards1 we hope1 prevail among all speculative inquirers4--7,,iv4 p4 #cbj47 ,the moral approbation1 therefore1 with which we regard acts of justice or benevolence rests upon their utility to society1 because the perception of that utility or1 in other words1 of the pleasure which they give to other men1 arouses a feeling of sympathetic pleasure in ourselves4 ,the feeling of obligation to be just1 or of the duty of justice1 arises out of that association of moral approbation or disapprobation with one's own actions1 which is what we call conscience4 ,to fail in justice1 or in benevolence1 is to be displeased with oneself4 ,but happiness is impossible without inward self-approval2 and1 hence1 every man who has any regard to his own happiness and welfare1 will find his best reward in the practice of every moral duty4 ,on this topic ,hume expends much eloquence4 ,but what philosophical truths can be more advantageous to society than these here delivered1 which represent virtue in all her genuine and most engaging charms1 and make us approach her with ease1 familiarity1 and affection8 ,the dismal dress falls off1 with which many divines and some philosophers have covered her2 and nothing appears but gentleness1 humanity1 beneficence1 affability2 nay1 even at proper intervals1 play1 frolic1 and gaiety4 ,she talks not of useless austerities and rigours1 suffering and self-denial4 ,she declares that her sole purpose is to make her votaries1 and all mankind1 during every period of their existence1 if possible1 cheerful and happy2 nor does she ever willingly part with any pleasure but in hopes of ample compensation in some other period of their lives4 ,the sole trouble which she demands is that of just calculation1 and a steady preference of the greater happiness4 ,and if any austere pretenders approach her1 enemies to joy and pleasure1 she either rejects them as hypocrites and deceivers1 or if she admit them in her train1 they are ranked1 however1 among the least favoured of her votaries4 ,and1 indeed1 to drop all figurative expression1 what hopes can we ever have of engaging mankind to a practice which we confess full of austerity and rigour8 ,or what theory of morals can ever serve any useful purpose1 unless it can show1 by a particular detail1 that all the duties which it recommends are also the true interest of each individual8 ,the peculiar advantage of the foregoing system seem to be1 that it furnishes proper mediums for that purpose4--7,,iv4 p4 #cfj47 ,in this pan to virtue1 there is more of the dance measure than will sound appropriate in the ears of most of the pilgrims who toil painfully1 not without many a stumble and many a bruise1 along the rough and steep roads which lead to the higher life4 ,virtue is undoubtedly beneficent2 but the man is to be envied to whom her ways seem in anywise playful4 ,and1 though she may not talk much about suffering and self-denial1 her silence on that topic may be accounted for on the principle a va sans dire4 ,the calculation of the greatest happiness is not performed quite so easily as a rule of three sum2 while1 in the hour of temptation1 the question will crop up1 whether1 as something has to be sacrificed1 a bird in the hand is not worth two in the bush2 whether it may not be as well to give up the problematical greater happiness in the future1 for a certain great happiness in the present1 and ,buy the merry madness of one hour ,with the long irksomeness of following time4#df ,if mankind cannot be engaged in practices full of austerity and rigour1 by the love of righteousness and the fear of evil1 without seeking for other compensation than that which flows from the gratification of such love and the consciousness of escape from debasement1 they are in a bad case4 ,for they will assuredly find that virtue presents no very close likeness to the sportive leader of the joyous hours in ,hume's rosy picture2 but that she is an awful ,goddess1 whose ministers are the ,furies1 and whose highest reward is peace4 ,it is not improbable that ,hume would have qualified all this as enthusiasm or fanaticism1 or both2 but he virtually admits it3-- ,now1 as virtue is an end1 and is desirable on its own account1 without fee or reward1 merely for the immediate satisfaction which it conveys1 it is requisite that there should be some sentiment which it touches2 some internal taste or feeling1 or whatever you please to call it1 which distinguishes moral good and evil1 and which embraces the one and rejects the other4 ,thus the distinct boundaries and offices of reason and of taste are easily ascertained4 ,the former conveys the knowledge of truth and falsehood3 ,the latter gives the sentiment of beauty and deformity1 vice and virtue4 ,the one discovers objects as they really stand in nature1 without addition or diminution3 ,the other has a productive faculty1 and gilding and staining all natural objects with the colours borrowed from internal sentiment1 raises in a manner a new creation4 ,reason being cool and disengaged1 is no motive to action1 and directs only the impulse received from appetite or inclination1 by showing us the means of attaining happiness or avoiding misery4 ,taste1 as it gives pleasure or pain1 and thereby constitutes happiness or misery1 becomes a motive to action1 and is the first spring or impulse to desire and volition4 ,from circumstances and relations known or supposed1 the former leads us to the discovery of the concealed and unknown4 ,after all circumstances and relations are laid before us1 the latter makes us feel from the whole a new sentiment of blame or approbation4 ,the standard of the one1 being founded on the nature of things1 is external and inflexible1 even by the will of the ,supreme ,being3 ,the standard of the other1 arising from the internal frame and constitution of animals1 is ultimately derived from the ,supreme ,will1 which bestowed on each being its peculiar nature1 and arranged the several classes and orders of existence4--7,,iv4 pp4 #cgf-g47 ,hume has not discussed the theological theory of the obligations of morality1 but it is obviously in accordance with his view of the nature of those obligations4 ,under its theological aspect1 morality is obedience to the will of ,god2 and the ground for such obedience is two-fold2 either we ought to obey ,god because ,he will punish us if we disobey ,him1 which is an argument based on the utility of obedience2 or our obedience ought to flow from our love towards ,god1 which is an argument based on pure feeling and for which no reason can be given4 ,for1 if any man should say that he takes no pleasure in the contemplation of the ideal of perfect holiness1 or1 in other words1 that he does not love ,god1 the attempt to argue him into acquiring that pleasure would be as hopeless as the endeavour to persuade ,peter ,bell of the witchery of the soft blue sky4 ,in whichever way we look at the matter1 morality is based on feeling1 not on reason2 though reason alone is competent to trace out the effects of our actions and thereby dictate conduct4 ,justice is founded on the love of one's neighbour2 and goodness is a kind of beauty4 ,the moral law1 like the laws of physical nature1 rests in the long run upon instinctive intuitions1 and is neither more nor less innate and necessary than they are4 ,some people cannot by any means be got to understand the first book of ,euclid2 but the truths of mathematics are no less necessary and binding on the great mass of mankind4 ,some there are who cannot feel the difference between the ,sonata ,appassionata1 and ,cherry ,ripe2 or between a gravestone-cutter's cherub and the ,apollo ,belvidere2 but the canons of art are none the less acknowledged4 ,while some there may be1 who1 devoid of sympathy are incapable of a sense of duty2 but neither does their existence affect the foundations of morality4 ,such pathological deviations from true manhood are merely the halt1 the lame1 and the blind of the world of consciousness2 and the anatomist of the mind leaves them aside1 as the anatomist of the body would ignore abnormal specimens4 ,and as there are ,pascals and ,mozarts1 ,newtons and ,raffaelles1 in whom the innate faculty for science or art seems to need but a touch to spring into full vigour1 and through whom the human race obtains new possibilities of knowledge and new conceptions of beauty3 so there have been men of moral genius1 to whom we owe ideals of duty and visions of moral perfection1 which ordinary mankind could never have attained2 though1 happily for them1 they can feel the beauty of a vision1 which lay beyond the reach of their dull imaginations1 and count life well spent in shaping some faint image of it in the actual world4 ,,the ,,end ,,london3 ,r4 ,,clay1 ,,sons1 ,,and ,,taylor1 ,,bread ,,street ,,hill4 ,,footnotes3 #de ,family affection in the eighteenth century may have been stronger than in the nineteenth2 but ,hume's bachelor inexperience can surely alone explain his strange account of the suppositions of the marriage law of that day1 and their effects4 ,the law certainly abolished all division of possessions1 but it did so by making the husband sole proprietor4 #df ,ben ,jonson's ,cynthia's ,revels1 act i4 ,,advertisements ,,english ,,men ,,of ,,letters4 ,,edited ,,by ,,john ,,morley4 ,these ,short ,books are addressed to the general public with a view both to stirring and satisfying an interest in literature and its great topics in the minds of those who have to run as they read4 ,an immense class is growing up1 and must every year increase1 whose education will have made them alive to the importance of the masters of our literature1 and capable of intelligent curiosity as to their performances4 ,the ,series is intended to give the means of nourishing this curiosity1 to an extent that shall be copious enough to be profitable for knowledge and life1 and yet be brief enough to serve those whose leisure is scanty4 ,the following are arranged for3-- ,,spenser ,the ,dean of ,st4 ,paul's4 ,,hume ,professor ,huxley4 ,ready4 ,,bunyan ,james ,anthony ,froude4 ,,johnson ,leslie ,stephen4 ,ready4 ,,goldsmith ,william ,black4 ,ready4 ,,milton ,mark ,pattison4 ,,wordsworth ,goldwin ,smith4 ,,swift ,john ,morley4 ,,burns ,principal ,shairp4 ,ready4 ,,scott ,richard ,h4 ,hutton4 ,ready4 ,,shelley ,j4 ,a4 ,symonds4 ,ready4 ,,gibbon ,j4 ,c4 ,morison4 ,ready4 ,,byron ,professor ,nichol4 ,,defoe ,w4 ,minto4 ,in the ,press4 ,,gray ,john ,morley4 ,,hawthorne ,henry ,james1 ,jnr4 ,,chaucer ,a4 ,w4 ,ward4 ,,others ,,will ,,be ,,announced4 ,,opinions ,,of ,,the ,,press4 ,the new series opens well with ,mr4 ,leslie ,stephen's sketch of ,dr4 ,johnson4 ,it could hardly have been done better2 and it will convey to the readers for whom it is intended a juster estimate of ,johnson than either of the two essays of ,lord ,macaulay4--,pall ,mall ,gazette4 ,we have come across few writers who have had a clearer insight into ,johnson's character1 or who have brought to the study of it a better knowledge of the time in which ,johnson lived and the men whom he knew4--,saturday ,review4 ,we could not wish for a more suggestive introduction to ,scott and his poems and novels4--,examiner4 ,the tone of the volume is excellent throughout4--,athenum ,review of ,scott4 ,as a clear1 thoughtful1 and attractive record of the life and works of the greatest among the world's historians1 it deserves the highest praise4--,examiner ,review of ,gibbon4 ,the lovers of this great poet 7,shelley7 are to be congratulated at having at their command so fresh1 clear1 and intelligent a presentment of the subject written by a man of adequate and wide culture4--,athenum4 99 99 99 99 99 ,,macmillan',s ,,globe ,,library4 ,beautifully printed on toned paper1 price #cs4 #f;d4 ,also kept in a variety of calf and morocco bindings1 at moderate prices4 ,the ,,saturday ,,review says3 ,the ,globe ,editions are admirable for their scholarly editing1 their typographical excellence1 their compendious form1 and their cheapness4 ,the ,,british ,,quarterly ,,review says3 ,in compendiousness1 elegance1 and scholarliness the ,globe ,editions of ,messrs4 ,macmillan surpass any popular series of our classics hitherto given to the public4 ,as near an approach to miniature perfection as has ever been made4 ,shakespeare's ,complete ,works4 ,edited by ,w4 ,g4 ,,clark1 ,m4,a41 and ,w4 ,,aldis ,,wright1 ,m4,a41 ,editors of the ,cambridge ,shakespeare4 ,with ,glossary4 pp4 #ajge4 ,the ,,athen,,um says this edition is a marvel of beauty1 cheapness1 and compactness4444 ,for the busy man1 above all for the working student1 this is the best of all existing ,shakespeares4 ,spenser's ,complete ,works4 ,edited from the ,original ,editions and ,manuscripts1 by ,r4 ,,morris1 with a ,memoir by ,j4 ,w4 ,,hales1 ,m4,a4 ,with ,glossary4 pp4 lv41 #gcf4 ,worthy--and higher praise it needs not--of the beautiful ',globe ,series4'--,,daily ,,news4 ,sir ,walter ,scott's ,poetical ,works4 ,edited1 with a ,biographical and ,critical ,memoir1 by ,,francis ,,turner ,,palgrave1 and ,copious ,notes4 pp4 xliii41 #eei4 ,we can almost sympathise with a middle-aged grumbler1 who1 after reading ,mr4 ,palgrave's ,memoir and ,introduction1 should exclaim1 ',why was there not such an edition of ,scott when ,i was a school-boy8'--,,guardian4 ,complete ,works of ,robert ,burns4 ,edited from the best ,printed and ,manuscript authorities1 with ,glossarial ,index1 ,notes1 and a ,biographical ,memoir by ,,alexander ,,smith4 pp4 lxii41 #fcf4 ,admirable in all respects4--,,spectator4 ,robinson ,crusoe4 ,edited after the ,original ,editions1 with a ,biographical ,introduction by ,,henry ,,kingsley4 pp4 xxxii 99#jg4 ,a most excellent and in every way desirable edition4--,,court ,,circular4 ,goldsmith's ,miscellaneous ,works4 ,edited with ,biographical ,introduction1 by ,professor ,,masson4 pp4 lx41 #fie4 ,such an admirable compendium of the facts of ,goldsmith's life1 and so careful and minute a delineation of the mixed traits of his peculiar character as to be a very model of a literary biography in little4--,,scotsman4 ,pope's ,poetical ,works4 ,edited1 with ,notes1 and ,introductory ,memoir by ,a4 ,w4 ,,ward1 ,m4,a41 ,professor of ,history in ,owens ,college ,manchester1 pp4 lii41 #ejh4 ,the ,,literary ,,churchman remarks3 ,the ,editor's own notes and introductory memoir are excellent1 the memoir alone would be cheap and well worth buying at the price of the whole volume4 ,dryden's ,poetical ,works4 ,edited1 with a ,memoir1 ,revised ,text1 and ,notes1 by ,w4 ,d4 ,,christie1 ,m4,a41 of ,trinity ,college1 ,cambridge1 pp4 lxxxvii41 #ffb4 ,an admirable edition1 the result of great research and of a careful revision of the text4--,,pall ,,mall ,,gazette4 ,cowper's ,poetical ,works4 ,edited1 with ,notes and ,biographical ,introduction1 by ,,william ,,benham1 ,vicar of ,margate1 pp4 lxxiii41 #ecf4 ,mr4 ,benham's edition of ,cowper is one of permanent value4-,,saturday ,,review4 ,morte d',arthur4--,,sir ,,thomas ,,malory',s ,,book ,,of ,,king ,,arthur ,,and ,,of ,,his ,,noble ,,knights ,,of ,,the ,,round ,,table4 ,the original ,edition of ,,caxton1 revised for ,modern ,use4 ,with an ,introduction by ,sir ,,edward ,,strachey1 ,bart4 pp4 xxxvii41 #eji4 ,it is with perfect confidence that we recommend this edition of the old romance to every class of readers4--,,pall ,,mall ,,gazette4 ,the ,works of ,virgil4 ,rendered into ,english ,prose1 with ,introductions1 ,notes1 ,running ,analysis1 and an ,index4 ,by ,,james ,,lonsdale1 ,m4,a41 and ,,samuel ,,lee1 ,m4,a4 pp4 #bbh4 ,a more complete ,edition of ,virgil in ,english it is scarcely possible to conceive than the scholarly work before us4--,,globe4 ,the ,works of ,horace4 ,rendered into ,english ,prose1 with ,introductions1 ,running ,analysis1 ,notes1 and ,index4 ,by ,,john ,,lonsdale1 ,m4,a41 and ,,samuel ,,lee1 ,m4,a4 ,the ,,standard says1 ,to classical and non-classical readers it will be invaluable4 ,milton's ,poetical ,works4--,edited1 with ,introductions1 by ,professor ,,masson4 ,in every way an admirable book4--,,pall ,,mall ,,gazette4 ,,macmillan ,,co41 ,,london4