,,the ,,philosophical ,,works ,,of ,,david ,,hume4 ,,including ,,all ,,the ,,essays1 ,,and ,,exhibiting ,,the ,,more ,,important ,,alterations ,,and ,,corrections ,,in ,,the ,,successive ,,editions ,,published ,,by ,,the ,,author4 ,,in ,,four ,,volumes4 ,,vol4 ,i4 ,,edinburgh3 ,,printed ,,for ,,adam ,,black ,,and ,,william ,,tait2 ,,and ,,charles ,,tait1 #fc1 ,,fleet ,,street1 ,,london4 ,,mdcccxxvi4 ,illustration3 ,allan ,ramsey pinx4--,robert ,grace ,sculp4--,david ,hume ,,advertisement4 ,the ,philosophical ,writings of ,mr ,hume are here for the first time collected in a uniform edition4 ,the ,essays are reprinted from the ,edition of #aggg1 in two octavo volumes1 corrected by the ,author for the press1 a short time before his death1 and which he desired might be regarded as containing his philosophical principles4 ,the text of that ,edition has been faithfully adhered to in the present2 but as it has been thought an interesting object of curiosity1 to trace the successive variations of sentiment and taste in a mind like that of ,hume1 and to mark the gradual and most observable increase of caution in his expression of those sentiments1 it has been the care of the present ,editor to compare the former ,editions1 of which a ,list is here subjoined1 and where any alterations were discovered1 not merely verbal1 but illustrative of the philosophical opinions of the author1 to add these as ,notes to the passages where they occur4 ,the ,essays contained in the early ,editions1 but which were omitted in that of #aggg1 will be found at the end of the last volume of the present ,collection of his ,works1 together with the ,two ,essays1 on ,suicide1 and the ,immortality of the ,soul4 ,in addition to the ,author's ,life1 written by himself1 the ,account of the ,controversy with ,m4 ,rousseau has also been prefixed4 ,it was originally printed in ,french1 and shortly afterwards in ,english1 in the year #agff4 ,the ,english translation was superintended by ,mr ,hume2 and as it relates to an extraordinary occurrence in the ,lives of these eminent philosophers1 has been thought a suitable appendage to the short ,memoir of himself4 ,,edinburgh1 ,,june #ahbe4 ,,editions ,,of ,,the ,,essays ,,collated ,,and ,,referred ,,to4 ,essays1 ,moral and ,political4 ,edinburgh1 ,kincaid1 #agda4 #abmo4 7,a7 ,essays1 ,moral and ,political1 ,vol4 ,,ii4 ,edinburgh1 ,kincaid1 #agdb4 #abmo4 pp4 #aje4 7,b7 ,essays1 ,moral and ,political1 #b;d ,edition1 corrected4 ,edinburgh1 ,kincaid1 #agdb4 #abmo4 pp4 #ahi4 7,c7 ,essays1 ,moral and ,political4 ,by ,d4 ,hume1 ,esq4 #c;d ,edition1 corrected1 with additions4 ,london1 ,millar1 #agdh4 #abmo4 7,d7 ,three ,essays1 ,moral and ,political1 never before published1 which completes the former ,edition1 in two volumes octavo4 ,by ,d4 ,hume1 ,esq4 ,london1 ,millar1 #agdh4 #abmo4 7,e7 ,political ,discourses4 ,by ,d4 ,hume1 ,esq4 ,edinburgh1 ,kincaid1 #ageb4 ,small #hvo4 ,to this ,edition there is sometimes added 'a ,list of ,scotticisms4' 7,f7 ,political ,discourses4 ,by ,d4 ,hume1 ,esq4 #b;d ,edition4 ,edinburgh1 ,kincaid1 #ageb4 #abmo4 ,merely a reprint of the preceding4 7,g7 ,essays and ,treatises on several ,subjects4 ,by ,d4 ,hume1 ,esq4 ,vol4 ,,iv4 containing ,political ,discourses4 #c;d ,edition1 with ,additions and ,corrections4 ,london1 ,millar1 #aged4 7,h7 ,four ,dissertations3 #ast1 ,natural ,history of ,religion3 #b;d1 of the ,passions3 #c;d1 of ,tragedy3 #dth1 of the ,standard of ,taste4 ,by ,d4 ,hume1 ,esq4 ,london1 ,millar1 #ageg4 #abmo4 7,i7 ,philosophical ,essays concerning ,human ,understanding4 ,by the ,author of the ,essays ,moral and ,political4 ,london1 ,millar1 #agdh4 #abmo4 7,k7 ,philosophical ,essays concerning ,human ,understanding4 ,by ,d4 ,hume1 ,esq4 #b;d ,edition1 with ,additions and ,corrections4 ,london1 ,millar1 #agej4 #abmo4 7,l7 ,an ,enquiry concerning the ,principles of ,morals4 ,by ,d4 ,hume1 ,esq4 ,london1 ,millar1 #agea4 7,m7 ,essays and ,treatises on several ,subjects4 ,by ,d4 ,hume1 ,esq4 ,london1 ,millar1 #agfh4 #b vols4 #dto4 7,n7 ,essays and ,treatises on several ,subjects4 ,by ,d4 ,hume1 ,esq4 ,london1 ,cadell1 #aggg4 #b vols #hvo4 7,o7 ,the above ,list comprehends all the ,editions which vary materially from each other4 ,those which have been found on examination to be mere reprints1 are not included4 ,,contents ,,of ,,volume ,,first4 ,life of the ,author ,letter from ,adam ,smith1 ,,ll4,d4 to ,william ,strachan ,esq41 and ,latter-will and ,testament of ,mr ,hume ,account of the ,controversy between ,hume and ,rousseau ,list of ,scotticisms ,,treatise ,,of ,,human ,,nature4 ,,introduction ,,book ,i4--,,of ,,the ,,understanding4 ,,part ,i4 ,,of ,,ideas1 ,,their ,,origin1 ,,composition1 ,,connexion1 ,,abstraction1 c4 ,of the ,origin of our ,ideas ,division of the ,subject ,of the ,ideas of the ,memory and ,imagination ,of the ,connexion or ,association of ,ideas ,of ,relations ,of ,modes and ,substances ,of ,abstract ,ideas ,,part ,,ii4 ,,of ,,the ,,ideas ,,of ,,space ,,and ,,time4 ,of the infinite ,divisibility of our ,ideas of ,space and ,time ,of the infinite ,divisibility of ,space and ,time ,of the other ,qualities of our ,ideas of ,space and ,time ,objections answered ,the same ,subject continued ,of the ,idea of ,existence1 and of external ,existence ,,part ,,iii4 ,,of ,,knowledge ,,and ,,probability4 ,of ,knowledge ,of ,probability1 and of the ,idea of ,cause and ,effect ,why a ,cause is always necessary ,of the component parts of our ,reasonings concerning ,cause and effect ,of the ,impressions of the ,senses and ,memory ,of the ,inference from the ,impression to the ,ideax ,of the ,nature of the ,idea or ,belief ,of the ,causes of ,belief ,of the ,effects of other ,relations and other ,habits ,of the ,influence of ,belief ,of the ,probability of ,chances ,of the ,probability of ,causes ,of unphilosophical ,probability ,of the ,idea of ,necessary ,connexion ,rules by which to judge of ,causes and ,effectsx ,of the ,reason of ,animals ,,part ,,iv4 ,,of ,,the ,,sceptical ,,and ,,other ,,systems ,,of ,,philosophy4 ,of ,scepticism with regard to ,reason ,of ,scepticism with regard to the ,sensesx ,of the ,ancient ,philosophy ,of the ,modern ,philosophyx ,of the ,immateriality of the ,soul ,of ,personal ,identity ,conclusion of this ,book ,,life ,,of ,,the ,,author ,,by ,,himself4 ,,my ,,own ,,life4 ,it is difficult for a man to speak long of himself without vanity2 therefore1 ,i shall be short4 ,it may be thought an instance of vanity that ,i pretend at all to write my life2 but this ,narrative shall contain little more than the ,history of my ,writings2 as1 indeed1 almost all my life has been spent in literary pursuits and occupations4 ,the first success of most of my writings was not such as to be an object of vanity4 ,i was born the #bfth of ,april #agaa1 old style1 at ,edinburgh4 ,i was of a good family1 both by father and mother4 ,my father's family is a branch of the ,earl of ,home's or ,hume's2 and my ancestors had been proprietors of the estate1 which my brother possesses1 for several generations4 ,my mother was daughter of ,sir ,david ,falconer1 ,president of the ,college of ,justice2 the title of ,lord ,halkerton came by succession to her brother4 ,my family1 however1 was not rich2 and1 being myself a younger brother1 my patrimony1 according to the mode of my country1 was of course very slender4 ,my father1 who passed for a man of parts1 died when ,i was an infant1 leaving me1 with an elder brother and a sister1 under the care of our mother1 a woman of singular merit1 who1 though young and handsome1 devoted herself entirely to the rearing and educating of her children4 ,i passed through the ordinary course of education with success1 and was seized very early with a passion for literature1 which has been the ruling passion of my life1 and the great source of my enjoyments4 ,my studious disposition1 my sobriety1 and my industry1 gave my family a notion that the law was a proper profession for me2 but ,i found an unsurmountable aversion to every thing but the pursuits of philosophy and general learning2 and while they fancied ,i was poring upon ,voet and ,vinnius1 ,cicero and ,virgil were the authors which ,i was secretly devouring4 ,my very slender fortune1 however1 being unsuitable to this plan of life1 and my health being a little broken by my ardent application1 ,i was tempted1 or rather forced1 to make a very feeble trial for entering into a more active scene of life4 ,in #agcd1 ,i went to ,bristol1 with some recommendations to eminent merchants1 but in a few months found that scene totally unsuitable to me1 ,i went over to ,france1 with a view of prosecuting my studies in a country retreat2 and ,i there laid that plan of life1 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 contemptible1 except the improvement of my talents in literature4 ,during my retreat in ,france1 first at ,rheims1 but chiefly at ,la ,flche1 in ,anjou1 ,i composed my ,treatise of ,human ,nature4 ,after passing three years very agreeably in that country1 ,i came over to ,london in #agcg4 ,in the end of #agch1 ,i published my ,treatise1 and immediately went down to my mother and my brother1 who lived at his country-house1 and was employing himself very judiciously and successfully in the improvement of his fortune4 ,never literary attempt was more unfortunate than my ,treatise of ,human ,nature4 ,it fell dead-born from the press1 without reaching such distinction1 as even to excite a murmur among the zealots4 ,but being naturally of a cheerful and sanguine temper1 ,i very soon recovered the blow1 and prosecuted with great ardour my studies in the country4 ,in #agdb1 ,i printed at ,edinburgh the first part of my ,essays3 the work was favourably received1 and soon made me entirely forget my former disappointment4 ,i continued with my mother and brother in the country1 and in that time recovered the knowledge of the ,greek language1 which ,i had too much neglected in my early youth4 ,in #agde1 ,i received a letter from the ,marquis of ,annandale1 inviting me to come and live with him in ,england2 ,i found also1 that the friends and family of that young nobleman were desirous of putting him under my care and direction1 for the state of his mind and health required it4 ,i lived with him a twelvemonth4 ,my appointments during that time made a considerable accession to my small fortune4 ,i then received an invitation from ,general ,st ,clair to attend him as a secretary to his expedition1 which was at first meant against ,canada1 but ended in an incursion on the coast of ,france4 ,next year1 to wit1 #agdg1 ,i received an invitation from the ,general to attend him in the same station in his military embassy to the courts of ,vienna and ,turin4 ,i then wore the uniform of an officer1 and was introduced at these courts as aide-de-camp to the ,general1 along with ,sir ,harry ,erskine and ,captain ,grant1 now ,general ,grant4 ,these two years were almost the only interruptions which my studies have received during the course of my life4 ,i passed them agreeably1 and in good company2 and my appointments1 with my frugality1 had made me reach a fortune1 which ,i called independent1 though most of my friends were inclined to smile when ,i said so2 in short1 ,i was now master of near a thousand pounds4 ,i had always entertained a notion1 that my want of success in publishing the ,treatise of ,human ,nature1 had proceeded more from the manner than the matter1 and that ,i had been guilty of a very usual indiscretion1 in going to the press too early4 ,i1 therefore1 cast the first part of that work anew in the ,inquiry concerning ,human ,understanding1 which was published while ,i was at ,turin4 ,but this piece was at first little more successful than the ,treatise of ,human ,nature4 ,on my return from ,italy1 ,i had the mortification to find all ,england in a ferment1 on account of ,dr ,middleton's ,free ,inquiry1 while my performance was entirely overlooked and neglected4 ,a new edition1 which had been published at ,london1 of my ,essays1 ,moral and ,political1 met not with a much better reception4 ,such is the force of natural temper1 that these disappointments made little or no impression on me4 ,i went down in #agdi1 and lived two years with my brother at his country-house1 for my mother was now dead4 ,i there composed the second part of my ,essays1 which ,i called ,political ,discourses1 and also my ,inquiry concerning the ,principles of ,morals1 which is another part of my ,treatise that ,i cast anew4 ,meanwhile1 my bookseller ,a4 ,millar informed me1 that my former publications 7all but the unfortunate ,treatise7 were beginning to be the subject of conversation2 that the sale of them was gradually increasing1 and that new editions were demanded4 ,answers by ,reverends1 and ,right ,reverends1 came out two or three in a year2 and ,i found1 by ,dr ,warburton's railing1 that the books were beginning to be esteemed in good company4 ,however1 ,i had fixed a resolution1 which ,i inflexibly maintained1 never to reply to any body2 and not being very irascible in my temper1 ,i have easily kept myself clear of all literary squabbles4 ,these symptoms of a rising reputation gave me encouragement1 as ,i was ever more disposed to see the favourable than unfavourable side of things2 a turn of mind which it is more happy to possess1 than to be born to an estate of ten thousand a year4 ,in #agea1 ,i removed from the country to the town1 the true scene for a man of letters4 ,in #ageb1 were published at ,edinburgh1 where ,i then lived1 my ,political ,discourses1 the only work of mine that was successful on the first publication4 ,it was well received abroad and at home4 ,in the same year was published at ,london1 my ,inquiry concerning the ,principles of ,morals2 which1 in my own opinion 7who ought not to judge on that subject71 is of all my writings1 historical1 philosophical1 or literary1 incomparably the best4 ,it came unnoticed and unobserved into the world4 ,in #ageb1 the ,faculty of ,advocates chose me their ,librarian1 an office from which ,i received little or no emolument1 but which gave me the command of a large library4 ,i then formed the plan of writing the ,history of ,england2 but being frightened with the notion of continuing a narrative through a period of #agjj years1 ,i commenced with the accession of the ,house of ,stuart1 an epoch when1 ,i thought1 the misrepresentations of faction began chiefly to take place4 ,i was1 ,i own1 sanguine in my expectations of the success of this work4 ,i thought that ,i was the only historian that had at once neglected present power1 interest1 and authority1 and the cry of popular prejudices2 and as the subject was suited to every capacity1 ,i expected proportional applause4 ,but miserable was my disappointment3 ,i was assailed by one cry of reproach1 disapprobation1 and even detestation2 ,english1 ,scotch1 and ,irish1 ,whig and ,tory1 ,churchman and ,sectary1 ,free-thinker and ,religionist1 ,patriot and ,courtier1 united in their rage against the man1 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 sink into oblivion4 ,mr ,millar told me1 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 ,dr ,herring1 and the primate of ,ireland1 ,dr ,stone1 which seem two odd exceptions4 ,these dignified prelates separately sent me messages not to be discouraged4 ,i was however1 ,i confess1 discouraged2 and had not the war been at that time breaking out between ,france and ,england1 ,i had certainly retired to some provincial town of the former kingdom1 have changed my name1 and never more have returned to my native country4 ,but as this scheme was not now practicable1 and the subsequent volume was considerably advanced1 ,i resolved to pick up courage1 and to persevere4 ,in this interval1 ,i published at ,london my ,natural ,history of ,religion1 along with some other small pieces4 ,its public entry was rather obscure1 except only that ,dr ,hurd wrote a pamphlet against it1 with all the illiberal petulance1 arrogance and scurrility1 which distinguish the ,warburtonian school4 ,this pamphlet gave me some consolation for the otherwise indifferent reception of my performance4 ,in #agef1 two years after the fall of the first volume1 was published the second volume of my ,history1 containing the period from the death of ,charles ,i4 till the ,revolution4 ,this performance happened to give less displeasure to the ,whigs1 and was better received4 ,it not only rose itself1 but helped to buoy up its unfortunate brother4 ,but though ,i had been taught1 by experience1 that the ,whig party were in possession of bestowing all places1 both in the state and in literature1 ,i was so little inclined to yield to their senseless clamour1 that in above a hundred alterations1 which farther study1 reading or reflection1 engaged me to make in the reigns of the two first ,stuarts1 ,i have made all of them invariably to the ,tory side4 ,it is ridiculous to consider the ,english constitution before that period as a regular plan of liberty4 ,in #agei1 ,i published my ,history of the ,house of ,tudor4 ,the clamour against this performance was almost equal to that against the ,history of the two first ,stuarts4 ,the reign of ,elizabeth was particularly obnoxious4 ,but ,i was now callous against the impressions of public folly1 and continued very peaceably and contentedly in my retreat at ,edinburgh1 to finish1 in two volumes1 the more early part of the ,english ,history1 which ,i gave to the public in #agfa1 with tolerable1 and but tolerable success4 ,but1 notwithstanding this variety of winds and seasons1 to which my writings had been exposed1 they had still been making such advances1 that the copy-money given me by the booksellers1 much exceeded any thing formerly known in ,england2 ,i was become not only independent1 but opulent4 ,i retired to my native country of ,scotland1 determined never more to set my foot out of it2 and retaining the satisfaction of never having preferred a request to one great man1 or even making advances of friendship to any of them4 ,as ,i was now turned of fifty1 ,i thought of passing all the rest of my life in this philosophical manner1 when ,i received1 in #agfc1 an invitation from the ,earl of ,hertford1 with whom ,i was not in the least acquainted1 to attend him on his embassy to ,paris1 with a near prospect of being appointed secretary to the embassy1 and1 in the meanwhile1 of performing the functions of that office4 ,this offer1 however inviting1 ,i at first declined1 both because ,i was reluctant to begin connexions with the great1 and because ,i was afraid that the civilities and gay company of ,paris1 would prove disagreeable to a person of my age and humour3 but on his ,lordship's repeating the invitation1 ,i accepted of it1 ,i have every reason1 both of pleasure and interest1 to think myself happy in my connexions with that nobleman1 as well as afterwards with his brother1 ,general ,conway4 ,those who have not seen the strange effects of ,modes1 will never imagine the reception ,i met with at ,paris1 from men and women of all ranks and stations4 ,the more ,i resiled from their excessive civilities1 the more ,i was loaded with them4 ,there is1 however1 a real satisfaction in living at ,paris1 from the great number of sensible1 knowing1 and polite company with which that city abounds above all places in the universe4 ,i thought once of settling there for life4 ,i was appointed secretary to the embassy2 and1 in summer #agfe1 ,lord ,hertford left me1 being appointed ,lord ,lieutenant of ,ireland4 ,i was charg d'affaires till the arrival of the ,duke of ,richmond1 towards the end of the year4 ,in the beginning of #agff1 ,i left ,paris1 and next summer went to ,edinburgh1 with the same view as formerly1 of burying myself in a philosophical retreat4 ,i returned to that place1 not richer1 but with much more money1 and a much larger income1 by means of ,lord ,hertford's friendship1 than ,i left it2 and ,i was desirous of trying what superfluity could produce1 as ,i had formerly made an experiment of a competency4 ,but1 in #agfg1 ,i received from ,mr ,conway an invitation to be ,under-secretary2 and this invitation1 both the character of the person1 and my connexions with ,lord ,hertford1 prevented me from declining4 ,i returned to ,edinburgh in #agfi1 very opulent 7for ,i possessed a revenue of #ajjjl4 a year71 healthy1 and1 though somewhat stricken in years1 with the prospect of enjoying long my ease1 and of seeing the increase of my reputation4 ,in spring #agge1 ,i was struck with a disorder in my bowels1 which at first gave me no alarm1 but has since1 as ,i apprehend it1 become mortal and incurable4 ,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 my spirits2 insomuch1 that were ,i to name the period of my life1 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 study1 and the same gaiety in company4 ,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 knew 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 character4 ,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 touched1 or even attacked by her baleful tooth3 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 conduct3 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 ,,april #ah4 #aggf4 ,,letter ,,from ,,adam ,,smith1 ,,ll4,d4 ,,to ,,william ,,strachan1 ,,esq4 ,kirkaldy1 ,fifeshire1 ,nov4 #i1 #aggf4 ,,dear ,,sir1 ,it is with a real1 though a very melancholy pleasure1 that ,i sit down to give you some account of the behaviour of our late excellent friend1 ,mr ,hume1 during his last illness4 ,though1 in his own judgment1 his disease was mortal and incurable1 yet he allowed himself to be prevailed upon1 by the entreaty of his friends1 to try what might be the effects of a long journey4 ,a few days before he set out1 he wrote that account of his own life1 which1 together with his other papers1 he has left to your care4 ,my account1 therefore1 shall begin where his ends4 ,he set out for ,london towards the end of ,april1 and at ,morpeth met with ,mr ,john ,home and myself1 who had both come down from ,london on purpose to see him1 expecting to have found him at ,edinburgh4 ,mr ,home returned with him1 and attended him during the whole of his stay in ,england1 with that care and attention which might be expected from a temper so perfectly friendly and affectionate4 ,as ,i had written to my mother that she might expect me in ,scotland1 ,i was under the necessity of continuing my journey4 ,his disease seemed to yield to exercise and change of air1 and when he arrived in ,london1 he was apparently in much better health than when he left ,edinburgh4 ,he was advised to go to ,bath to drink the waters1 which appeared for some time to have so good an effect upon him1 that even he himself began to entertain1 what he was not apt to do1 a better opinion of his own health4 ,his symptoms1 however1 soon returned with their usual violence1 and from that moment he gave up all thoughts of recovery1 but submitted with the utmost cheerfulness1 and the most perfect complacency and resignation4 ,upon his return to ,edinburgh1 though he found himself much weaker1 yet his cheerfulness never abated1 and he continued to divert himself1 as usual1 with correcting his own works for a new edition1 with reading books of amusement1 with the conversation of his friends2 and1 sometimes in the evening1 with a party at his favourite game of whist4 ,his cheerfulness was so great1 and his conversation and amusements run so much in their usual strain1 that1 notwithstanding all bad symptoms1 many people could not believe he was dying4 ,i shall tell your friend1 ,colonel ,edmondstone1 said ,doctor ,dundas to him one day1 that ,i left you much better1 and in a fair way of recovery4 ,doctor1 said he1 as ,i believe you would not choose to tell any thing but the truth1 you had better tell him1 that ,i am dying as fast as my enemies1 if ,i have any1 could wish1 and as easily and cheerfully as my best friends could desire4 ,colonel ,edmondstone soon afterwards came to see him1 and take leave of him2 and on his way home1 he could not forbear writing him a letter bidding him once more an eternal adieu1 and applying to him1 as to a dying man1 the beautiful ,french verses in which the ,abb ,chaulieu1 in expectation of his own death1 laments his approaching separation from his friend1 the ,marquis de la ,fare4 ,mr ,hume's magnanimity and firmness were such1 that his most affectionate friends knew that they hazarded nothing in talking or writing to him as to a dying man1 and that so far from being hurt by this frankness1 he was rather pleased and flattered by it4 ,i happened to come into his room while he was reading this letter1 which he had just received1 and which he immediately showed me4 ,i told him1 that though ,i was sensible how very much he was weakened1 and that appearances were in many respects very bad1 yet his cheerfulness was still so great1 the spirit of life seemed still to be so very strong in him1 that ,i could not help entertaining some faint hopes4 ,he answered1 ,your hopes are groundless4 ,an habitual diarrhoea of more than a year's standing1 would be a very bad disease at any age3 at my age it is a mortal one4 ,when ,i lie down in the evening1 ,i feel myself weaker than when ,i rose in the morning2 and when ,i rise in the morning1 weaker than when ,i lay down in the evening4 ,i am sensible1 besides1 that some of my vital parts are affected1 so that ,i must soon die4 ,well1 said ,i1 if it must be so1 you have at least the satisfaction of leaving all your friends1 your brother's family in particular1 in great prosperity4 ,he said that he felt that satisfaction so sensibly1 that when he was reading1 a few days before1 ,lucian's ,dialogues of the ,dead1 among all the excuses which are alleged to ,charon for not entering readily into his boat1 he could not find one that fitted him2 he had no house to finish1 he had no daughter to provide for1 he had no enemies upon whom he wished to revenge himself4 ,i could not well imagine1 said he1 what excuse ,i could make to ,charon in order to obtain a little delay4 ,i have done every thing of consequence which ,i ever meant to do2 and ,i could at no time expect to leave my relations and friends in a better situation than that in which ,i am now likely to leave them4 ,i therefore have all reason to die contented4 ,he then diverted himself with inventing several jocular excuses1 which he supposed he might make to ,charon1 and with imagining the very surly answers which it might suit the character of ,charon to return to them4 ,upon further consideration1 said he1 ,i thought ,i might say to him1 ,good ,charon1 ,i have been correcting my works for a new edition4 ,allow me a little time1 that ,i may see how the public receives the alterations4 ,but ,charon would answer1 ,when you have seen the effect of these1 you will be for making other alterations4 ,there will be no end of such excuses2 so1 honest friend1 please step into the boat4 ,but ,i might still urge1 ,have a little patience1 good ,charon2 ,i have been endeavouring to open the eyes of the public4 ,if ,i live a few years longer1 ,i may have the satisfaction of seeing the downfall of some of the prevailing systems of superstition4 ,but ,charon would then lose all temper and decency4 ,you loitering rogue1 that will not happen these many hundred years4 ,do you fancy ,i will grant you a lease for so long a term8 ,get into the boat this instant1 you lazy loitering rogue4 ,but1 though ,mr ,hume always talked of his approaching dissolution with great cheerfulness1 he never affected to make any parade of his magnanimity4 ,he never mentioned the subject but when the conversation naturally led to it1 and never dwelt longer upon it than the course of the conversation happened to require3 it was a subject1 indeed1 which occurred pretty frequently1 in consequence of the inquiries which his friends1 who came to see him1 naturally made concerning the state of his health4 ,the conversation which ,i mentioned above1 and which passed on ,thursday the #hth of ,august1 was the last1 except one1 that ,i ever had with him4 ,he had now become so very weak1 that the company of his most intimate friends fatigued him2 for his cheerfulness was still so great1 his complaisance and social disposition were still so entire1 that when any friend was with him1 he could not help talking more1 and with greater exertion1 than suited the weakness of his body4 ,at his own desire1 therefore1 ,i agreed to leave ,edinburgh1 where ,i was staying partly upon his account1 and returned to my mother's house here1 at ,kirkaldy1 upon condition that he would send for me whenever he wished to see me2 the physician who saw him most frequently1 ,dr ,black1 undertaking1 in the mean time1 to write me occasionally an account of the state of his health4 ,on the #bb;d of ,august1 the ,doctor wrote me the following letter3 ,since my last1 ,mr ,hume has passed his time pretty easily1 but is much weaker4 ,he sits up1 goes down stairs once a day1 and amuses himself with reading1 but seldom sees anybody4 ,he finds that even the conversation of his most intimate friends fatigues and oppresses him2 and it is happy that he does not need it1 for he is quite free from anxiety1 impatience1 or low spirits1 and passes his time very well with the assistance of amusing books4 ,i received the day after a letter from ,mr ,hume himself1 of which the following is an extract4 ,edinburgh1 #bc;d ,august1 #aggf4 ,,my ,,dearest ,,friend1 ,i am obliged to make use of my nephew's hand in writing to you1 as ,i do not rise to-day4 99 99 99 99 99 ,i go very fast to decline1 and last night had a small fever1 which ,i hoped might put a quicker period to this tedious illness1 but unluckily it has1 in a great measure1 gone off4 ,i cannot submit to your coming over here on my account1 as it is possible for me to see you so small a part of the day1 but ,doctor ,black can better inform you concerning the degree of strength which may from time to time remain with me4 ,adieu1 c4 ,three days after ,i received the following letter from ,doctor ,black4 ,edinburgh1 ,monday1 #bfth ,august1 #aggf4 ,,dear ,,sir1 ,yesterday about four o'clock afternoon1 ,mr ,hume expired4 ,the near approach of his death became evident in the night between ,thursday and ,friday1 when his disease became excessive1 and soon weakened him so much1 that he could no longer rise out of his bed4 ,he continued to the last perfectly sensible1 and free from much pain or feelings of distress4 ,he never dropped the smallest expression of impatience2 but when he had occasion to speak to the people about him1 always did it with affection and tenderness4 ,i thought it improper to write to bring you over1 especially as ,i heard that he had dictated a letter to you desiring you not to come4 ,when he became very weak1 it cost him an effort to speak1 and he died in such a happy composure of mind1 that nothing could exceed it4 ,thus died our most excellent1 and never to be forgotten friend2 concerning whose philosophical opinions men will1 no doubt1 judge variously1 every one approving1 or condemning them1 according as they happen to coincide or disagree with his own2 but concerning whose character and conduct there can scarce be a difference of opinion4 ,his temper1 indeed1 seemed to be more happily balanced1 if ,i may be allowed such an expression1 than that perhaps of any other man ,i have ever known4 ,even in the lowest state of his fortune1 his great and necessary frugality never hindered him from exercising1 upon proper occasions1 acts both of charity and generosity4 ,it was a frugality founded1 not upon avarice1 but upon the love of independency4 ,the extreme gentleness of his nature never weakened either the firmness of his mind1 or the steadiness of his resolutions4 ,his constant pleasantry was the genuine effusion of good nature and good humour1 tempered with delicacy and modesty1 and without even the slightest tincture of malignity1 so frequently the disagreeable source of what is called wit in other men4 ,it never was the meaning of his raillery to mortify2 and therefore1 far from offending1 it seldom failed to please and delight1 even those who were the objects of it4 ,to his friends1 who were frequently the objects of it1 there was not perhaps any one of all his great and amiable qualities1 which contributed more to endear his conversation4 ,and that gaiety of temper1 so agreeable in society1 but which is so often accompanied with frivolous and superficial qualities1 was in him certainly attended with the most severe application1 the most extensive learning1 the greatest depth of thought1 and a capacity in every respect the most comprehensive4 ,upon the whole1 ,i have always considered him1 both in his lifetime and since his death1 as approaching as nearly to the idea of a perfectly wise and virtuous man1 as perhaps the nature of human frailty will permit4 ,i ever am1 dear ,sir1 ,most affectionately yours1 ,,adam ,,smith4 ,illustration3 ,drawn by ,a4 ,nasmyth--,engraved by ,w4 ,miller--,,hume',s ,,monument1 ,,calton ,,hill4 ,,the ,,latter-,,will ,,and ,,testament ,,of ,,david ,,hume4 ,i1 ,david ,hume1 second lawful son of ,joseph ,home of ,ninewells1 advocate1 for the love and affection ,i bear to ,john ,home of ,ninewells1 my brother1 and for other causes1 ,,do1 by these presents1 under the reservations and burdens after-mentioned1 ,,give and ,,dispose to the said ,john ,home1 or1 if he die before me1 to ,david ,home1 his second son1 his heirs and assigns whatsomever1 all lands1 heritages1 debts1 and sums of money1 as well heritable as moveable1 which shall belong to me at the time of my decease1 as also my whole effects in general1 real and personal1 with and under the burden of the following legacies1 viz4 to my sister ,catherine ,home1 the sum of twelve hundred pounds sterling1 payable the first term of ,whitsunday or ,martinmas after my decease1 together with all my ,english books1 and the life-rent of my house in ,st ,james's ,court1 or in case that house be sold at the time of my decease1 twenty pounds a year during the whole course of her life3 ,to my friend ,adam ,ferguson1 ,professor of ,moral ,philosophy in the ,college of ,edinburgh1 two hundred pounds sterling3 ,to my friend ,m4 d',alembert1 member of the ,french ,academy1 and of the ,academy of ,sciences in ,paris1 two hundred pounds3 ,to my friend ,dr ,adam ,smith1 late ,professor of ,moral ,philosophy in ,glasgow1 ,i leave all my manuscripts without exception1 desiring him to publish my ,dialogues on ,natural ,religion1 which are comprehended in this present bequest2 but to publish no other papers which he suspects not to have been written within these five years1 but to destroy them all at his leisure3 ,and ,i even leave him full power over all my papers1 except the ,dialogues above mentioned2 and though ,i can trust to that intimate and sincere friendship1 which has ever subsisted between us1 for his faithful execution of this part of my will1 yet1 as a small recompense of his pains in correcting and publishing this work1 ,i leave him two hundred pounds1 to be paid immediately after the publication of it3 ,i also leave to ,mrs ,anne and ,mrs ,janet ,hepburn1 daughters of ,mr ,james ,hepburn of ,keith1 one hundred pounds a piece3 ,to my cousin ,david ,campbell1 son of ,mr ,campbell1 minister of ,lillysleaf1 one hundred pounds3 ,to the ,infirmary of ,edinburgh1 fifty pounds3 ,to all the servants who shall be in my family at the time of my decease1 one year's wages2 and to my housekeeper1 ,margaret ,irvine1 three year's wages3 ,and ,i also ordain1 that my brother1 or nephew1 or executor1 whoever he be1 shall not pay up to the said ,margaret ,irvine1 without her own consent1 any sum of money which ,i shall owe her at the time of my decease1 whether by bill1 bond1 or for wages1 but shall retain in his hand1 and pay her the legal interest upon it1 till she demand the principal3 ,and in case my brother above-mentioned shall survive me1 ,i leave to his son ,david1 the sum of a thousand pounds to assist him in his education3 ,but in case that by my brother's death before me1 the succession of my estate and effects shall devolve to the aforesaid ,david1 ,i hereby burden him1 over and above the payment of the aforesaid legacies1 with the payment of the sums following3 ,to his brothers ,joseph and ,john1 a thousand pounds a piece3 ,to his sisters ,catherine and ,agnes1 five hundred pounds a piece3 all which sums1 as well as every sum contained in the present disposition 7except that to ,dr ,smith71 to be payable the first term of ,whitsunday and ,martinmas1 after my decease2 and all of them1 without exception1 in sterling money4 ,and ,i do hereby nominate and appoint the said ,john ,home1 my brother1 and failing of him by decease1 the said ,david ,home1 to be my sole executor and universal legatee1 with and under the burdens above mentioned2 reserving always full power and liberty to me1 at any time of my life1 even in deathbed1 to alter and innovate these presents1 in whole or in part1 and to burden the same with such other legacies as ,i shall think fit4 ,and ,i do hereby declare these presents to be a good1 valid1 and sufficient evidence1 albeit found in my custody1 or in the custody of any other person at the time of my death1 c4 7in common style47 ,signed #d ,january #aggf1 before these witnesses1 the ,right ,honourable the ,earl of ,home1 and ,mr ,john ,mc,gowan1 ,clerk to the ,signet4 ,,david ,,hume4 ,i also ,,ordain1 that if ,i shall die any where in ,scotland1 ,i shall be buried in a private manner in the ,calton churchyard1 the south side of it1 and a monument to be built over my body1 at an expense not exceeding a hundred pounds1 with an inscription containing only my name1 with the year of my birth and death1 leaving it to posterity to add the rest4 ,at ,edinburgh1 #aeth ,april1 #aggf4 ,,david ,,hume4 ,i also leave for rebuilding the bridge of ,churnside the sum of a hundred pounds2 but on condition that the managers of the bridge shall take none of the stones for building the bridge from the quarry of ,ninewells1 except from that part of the quarry which has been already opened4 ,i leave to my nephew ,joseph1 the sum of fifty pounds to enable him to make a good sufficient drain and sewer round the house of ,ninewells1 but on condition that1 if that drain and sewer be not made1 from whatever cause1 within a year after my death1 the said fifty pounds shall be paid to the poor of the parish of ,churnside3 ,to my sister1 instead of all my ,english books1 ,i leave her a hundred volumes at her choice3 ,to ,david ,waite1 servant to my brother1 ,i leave the sum of ten pounds1 payable the first term after my death4 ,,david ,,hume4 ,,an ,,account ,,of ,,the ,,controversy ,,between ,,hume ,,and ,,rousseau4 ,,london4 ,m4,d4,,cc4,,lxvi4 ,,advertisement ,,of ,,the ,,french ,,editors4 ,the name and writings of ,mr ,hume have been long since well known throughout ,europe4 ,at the same time1 his personal acquaintance have remarked1 in the candour and simplicity of his manners1 that impartiality and ingenuousness of disposition which distinguishes his character1 and is sufficiently indicated in his writings4 ,he hath exerted those great talents he received from nature1 and the acquisitions he made by study1 in the search of truth1 and promoting the good of mankind2 never wasting his time1 or sacrificing his repose1 in literary or personal disputes4 ,he hath seen his writings frequently censured with bitterness1 by fanaticism1 ignorance1 and the spirit of party1 without ever giving an answer to his adversaries4 ,even those who have attacked his works with the greatest violence1 have always respected his personal character4 ,his love of peace is so well known1 that the criticisms written against his pieces1 have been often brought him by their respective authors1 for him to revise and correct them4 ,at one time1 in particular1 a performance of this kind was shown to him1 in which he had been treated in a very rude and even injurious manner2 on remarking which to the author1 the latter struck out the exceptionable passages1 blushing and wondering at the force of that polemic spirit which had carried him imperceptibly away beyond the founds of truth and decency4 ,it was with great reluctance that a man1 possessed of such pacific dispositions1 could be brought to consent to the publication of the following piece4 ,he was very sensible that the quarrels among men of letters are a scandal to philosophy2 nor was any person in the world less formed for giving occasion to a scandal1 so consolatory to blockheads4 ,but the circumstances were such as to draw him into it1 in spite of his inclinations4 ,all the world knows that ,mr ,rousseau1 proscribed in almost every country where he resided1 determined at length to take refuge in ,england2 and that ,mr ,hume1 affected by his situation1 and his misfortunes1 undertook to bring him over1 and to provide for him a peaceful1 safe1 and convenient asylum4 ,but very few persons are privy to the zeal1 activity1 and even delicacy1 with which ,mr ,hume conferred this act of benevolence4 ,what an affectionate attachment he had contracted for this new friend1 which humanity had given him6 with what address he endeavoured to anticipate his desires1 without offending his pride6 in short1 with what address he strove to justify1 in the eyes of others1 the singularities of ,mr ,rousseau1 and to defend his character against those who were not disposed to think so favourably of him as he did himself4 ,even at the time when ,mr ,hume was employed in doing ,mr ,rousseau the most essential service1 he received from him the most insolent and abusive letter4 ,the more such a stroke was unexpected1 the more it was cruel and affecting4 ,mr ,hume wrote an account of this extraordinary adventure to his friends at ,paris1 and expressed himself in his letters with all that indignation which so strange a proceeding must excite4 ,he thought himself under no obligation to keep terms with a man1 who1 after having received from him the most certain and constant marks of friendship1 could reproach him1 without any reason1 as false1 treacherous1 and as the most wicked of mankind4 ,in the mean time1 the dispute between these two celebrated personages did not fail to make a noise4 ,the complaints of ,mr ,hume soon came to the knowledge of the public1 which at first hardly believed it possible that ,mr ,rousseau could be guilty of that excessive ingratitude laid to his charge4 ,even ,mr ,hume's friends were fearful1 lest1 in the first effusions of sensibility1 he was not carried too far1 and had not mistaken for wilful crimes of the heart1 the vagaries of the imagination1 or the deceptions of the understanding4 ,he judged it necessary1 therefore to explain the affair1 by writing a precise narrative of all that passed between him and ,mr ,rousseau1 from their first connection to their rupture4 ,this narrative he sent to his friends1 some of whom advised him to print it1 alleging1 that as ,mr ,rousseau's accusations were become public1 the proofs of his justification ought to be so too4 ,mr ,hume did not give into these arguments1 choosing rather to run the risk of being unjustly censured1 than to resolve on making himself a public party in an affair so contrary to his disposition and character4 ,a new incident1 however1 at length overcame his reluctance4 ,mr ,rousseau had addressed a letter to a bookseller at ,paris1 in which he directly accuses ,mr ,hume of having entered into a league with his enemies to betray and defame him2 and in which he boldly defies ,mr ,hume to print the papers he had in his hands4 ,this letter was communicated to several persons in ,paris1 was translated into ,english1 and the translation printed in the public papers in ,london4 ,an accusation and defiance so very public could not be suffered to pass without reply1 while any long silence on the part of ,mr ,hume might have been interpreted little in his favour4 ,besides1 the news of this dispute had spread itself over ,europe1 and the opinions entertained of it were various4 ,it had doubtless been much happier1 if the whole affair had been buried in oblivion1 and remained a profound secret2 but as it was impossible to prevent the public interesting itself in the controversy1 it became necessary at least that the truth of the matter should be known4 ,mr ,hume's friends unitedly represented to him all these reasons1 the force of which he was at length convinced of2 and seeing the necessity1 consented1 though with reluctance1 to the printing of his memorial4 ,the narrative1 and notes1 are translated from the ,english4#a ,the letters of ,mr ,rousseau1 which serve as authentic proofs of the facts are exact copies of the originals4#b ,this pamphlet contains many strange instances of singularity1 that will appear extraordinary enough to those who will give themselves the trouble to peruse it4 ,those who do not choose to take the trouble1 however1 may possibly do better1 as its contents are of little importance1 except to those who are immediately interested4 ,on the whole1 ,mr ,hume1 in offering to the public the genuine pieces of his trial1 has authorized us to declare1 that he will never take up the pen again on the subject4 ,mr ,rousseau indeed may return to the charge2 he may produce suppositions1 misconstructions1 inferences1 and new declamations2 he may create and realize new phantoms1 and envelop them in the clouds of his rhetoric1 he will meet with no more contradiction4 ,the facts are all laid before the public2#c and ,mr ,hume submits his cause to the determination of every man of sense and probity4 #a ,and are now re-translated1 for the most part1 from the ,french1 the ,french editors having taken some liberties1 not without ,mr ,hume's consent1 with the ,english original4--,english translator4 #b in the present edition ,mr ,hume's letters are printed verbatim2 and to ,mr ,rousseau's the translator hath endeavoured to do justice1 as well with regard to the sense as the expression4 ,not that he can flatter himself with having always succeeded in the latter4 ,he has taken the liberty also to add a note or two1 regarding some particular circumstances which had come to his knowledge4 #c ,the original letters of both parties will be lodged in the ,british ,museum1 on account of the above mentioned defiance of ,mr ,rousseau1 and his subsequent insinuation1 that if they should be published1 they would be falsified4 ,,an ,,account ,,of ,,the ,,controversy ,,between ,,mr ,,hume ,,and ,,mr ,,rousseau4 ,august #a1 #agff4 ,my connexion with ,mr ,rousseau began in #agfb1 when the ,parliament of ,paris had issued an arrt for apprehending him1 on account of his ,emilius4 ,i was at that time at ,edinburgh4 ,a person of great worth wrote to me from ,paris1 that ,mr ,rousseau intended to seek an asylum in ,england1 and desired ,i would do him all the good offices in my power4 ,as ,i conceived ,mr ,rousseau had actually put his design in execution1 ,i wrote to several of my friends in ,london1 recommending this celebrated exile to their favour4 ,i wrote also immediately to ,mr ,rousseau himself2 assuring him of my desire to oblige1 and readiness to serve him4 ,at the same time1 ,i invited him to come to ,edinburgh1 if the situation would be agreeable1 and offered him a retreat in my own house1 so long as he should please to partake of it4 ,there needed no other motive to excite me to this act of humanity1 than the idea given me of ,mr ,rousseau's personal character1 by the friend who had recommended him1 his well known genius and abilities1 and above all1 his misfortunes2 the very cause of which was an additional reason to interest me in his favour4 ,the following is the answer ,i received4 ,,mr ,,rousseau ,,to ,,mr ,,hume4 ,motiers-,travers1 ,feb4 #ai1 #agfc4 ,,sir1 ,i did not receive till lately1 and at this place1 the letter you did me the honour to direct to me at ,london1 the #b;d of ,july last1 on the supposition that ,i was then arrived at that capital4 ,i should doubtless have made choice of a retreat in your country1 and as near as possible to yourself1 if ,i had foreseen what a reception ,i was to meet with in my own4 ,no other nation could claim a preference to ,england4 ,and this prepossession1 for which ,i have dearly suffered1 was at that time too natural not to be very excusable2 but1 to my great astonishment1 as well as that of the public1 ,i have met with nothing but affronts and insults1 where ,i hoped to have found consolation at least1 if not gratitude4 ,how many reasons have ,i not to regret the want of that asylum and philosophical hospitality ,i should have found with you6 ,my misfortunes1 indeed1 have constantly seemed to lead me in a manner that way4 ,the protection and kindness of my ,lord ,marshall1 your worthy and illustrious countryman1 hath brought ,scotland home to me1 if ,i may so express myself1 in the midst of ,switzerland2 he hath made you so often bear a part in our conversation1 hath brought me so well acquainted with your virtues1 which ,i before was only with your talents1 that he inspired me with the most tender friendship for you1 and the most ardent desire of obtaining yours1 before ,i even knew you were disposed to grant it4 ,judge then of the pleasure ,i feel1 at finding this inclination reciprocal4 ,no1 ,sir1 ,i should pay your merit but half its due1 if it were the subject only of my admiration4 ,your great impartiality1 together with your amazing penetration and genius1 would lift you far above the rest of mankind1 if you were less attached to them by the goodness of your heart4 ,my ,lord ,marshal1 in acquainting me that the amiableness of your disposition was still greater than the sublimity of your genius1 rendered a correspondence with you every day more desirable1 and cherished in me those wishes which he inspired1 of ending my days near you4 ,oh1 ,sir1 that a better state of health1 and more convenient circumstances1 would but enable me to take such a journey in the manner ,i could like6 ,could ,i but hope to see you and my ,lord ,marshal one day settled in your own country1 which should for ever after be mine1 ,i should be thankful1 in such a society1 for the very misfortunes that led me into it1 and should account the day of its commencement as the first of my life4 ,would to ,heaven ,i might live to see that happy day1 though now more to be desired than expected6 ,with what transports should ,i not exclaim1 on setting foot in that happy country which gave birth to ,david ,hume and the ,lord ,marshal of ,scotland6 ,salve1 facis mihi debita tellus6 ,hc domus1 hc patria est4 ,j4,j4,r4 ,this letter is not published from a motive of vanity2 as will be seen presently1 when ,i give the reader a recantation of all the eulogies it contains2 but only to complete the course of our correspondence1 and to show that ,i have been long since disposed to ,mr ,rousseau's service4 ,from this time our correspondence entirely ceased1 till about the middle of last autumn 7#agfe71 when it was renewed by the following accident4 ,a certain lady of ,mr ,rousseau's acquaintance1 being on a journey to one of the ,french provinces1 bordering on ,switzerland1 had taken that opportunity of paying a visit to our solitary philosopher1 in his retreat at ,motiers-,travers4 ,to this lady he complained1 that his situation in ,neufchtel was become extremely disagreeable1 as well on account of the superstition of the people1 as the resentment of the clergy2 and that he was afraid he should shortly be under the necessity of seeking an asylum elsewhere2 in which case1 ,england appeared to him1 from the nature of its laws and government1 to be the only place to which he could retire with perfect security2 adding1 that my ,lord ,marshal1 his former protector1 had advised him to put himself under my protection1 7that was the term he was pleased1 to make use of71 and that he would accordingly address himself to me1 if he thought it would not be giving me too much trouble4 ,i was at that time charged with the affairs of ,england at the court of ,france2 but as ,i had the prospect of soon returning to ,london1 ,i could not reject a proposal made to me under such circumstances1 by a man so celebrated for his genius and misfortunes4 ,as soon as ,i was thus informed1 therefore1 of the situation and intentions of ,mr ,rousseau1 ,i wrote to him1 making him an offer of my services2 to which he returned the following answer4 ,,mr ,,rousseau ,,to ,,mr ,,hume4 ,strasbourg1 ,dec4 #d1 #agfe4 ,,sir1 ,your goodness affects me as much as it does me honour4 ,the best reply ,i can make to your offers is to accept them1 which ,i do4 ,i shall set out in five or six days to throw myself into your arms4 ,such is the advice of my ,lord ,marshal1 my protector1 friend and father2 it is the advice also of ,madam 99 99 99 #a whose good sense and benevolence serve equally for my direction and consolation2 in fine1 ,i may say it is the advice of my own heart1 which takes a pleasure in being indebted to the most illustrious of my contemporaries1 to a man whose goodness surpasses his glory4 ,i sigh after a solitary and free retirement1 wherein ,i might finish my days in peace4 ,if this be procured me by means of your benevolent solicitude1 ,i shall then enjoy at once the pleasure of the only blessing my heart desires1 and also that of being indebted for it to you4 ,i am1 ,sir1 with all my heart1 c4 ,j4 ,j4 ,r4 #a ,the person here mentioned desired her name might be suppressed4 ,french ,editor4 ,as the motive to the suppression of the lady's name can hardly be supposed to extend to this country1 the ,english translator takes the liberty to mention the name of the ,marchioness de ,verdelin4 ,not that ,i had deferred till this time my endeavours to be useful to ,mr ,rousseau4 ,the following letter was communicated to me by ,mr ,clairaut1 some weeks before his death4 ,,mr ,,rousseau ,,to ,,mr ,,clairaut4 ,motiers-,travers1 ,march #c1 #agfe4 ,,sir1 ,the remembrance of your former kindness1 induces me to be again importunate4 ,it is to desire you will be so good1 for the second time1 to be the censor of one of my performances4 ,it is a very paltry rhapsody1 which ,i compiled many years ago1 under the title of ,a ,musical ,dictionary1 and am now obliged to republish it for subsistence4 ,amidst the torrent of misfortunes that overwhelm me1 ,i am not in a situation to review the work2 which1 ,i know1 is full of oversights and mistakes4 ,if any interest you may take in the lot of the most unfortunate of mankind1 should induce you to bestow a little more attention on his work than on that of another1 ,i should be extremely obliged to you1 if you would take the trouble to correct such errors as you may meet with in the perusal4 ,to point them out1 without correcting them1 would be doing nothing1 for ,i am absolutely incapable of paying the least attention to such a work2 so that if you would but condescend to alter1 add1 retrench1 and1 in short1 use it as you would do your own1 you would do a great charity1 for which ,i should be extremely thankful4 ,accept1 ,sir1 my most humble excuses and salutations4 ,j4 ,j4 ,r4 ,it is with reluctance ,i say it1 but ,i am compelled to it2 ,i now know of a certainty that this affectation of extreme poverty and distress was a mere pretence1 a petty kind of imposture which ,mr ,rousseau successfully employed to excite the compassion of the public2 but ,i was then very far from suspecting any such artifice4 ,i must own1 ,i felt on this occasion an emotion of pity1 mixed with indignation1 to think a man of letters of such eminent merit1 should be reduced1 in spite of the simplicity of his manner of living1 to such extreme indigence2 and that this unhappy state should be rendered more intolerable by sickness1 by the approach of old age1 and the implacable rage of persecution4 ,i knew that many persons imputed the wretchedness of ,mr ,rousseau to his excessive pride1 which induced him to refuse the assistance of his friends2 but ,i thought this fault1 if it were a fault1 was a very respectable one4 ,too many men of letters have debased their character in stooping so low as to solicit the assistance of persons of wealth or power1 unworthy of affording them protection2 and ,i conceived that a noble pride1 even though carried to excess1 merited some indulgence in a man of genius1 who1 borne up by a sense of his own superiority and a love of independence1 should have braved the storms of fortune and the insults of mankind4 ,i proposed1 therefore1 to serve ,mr ,rousseau in his own way4 ,i desired ,mr ,clairaut1 accordingly1 to give me his letter1 which ,i showed to several of ,mr ,rousseau's friends and patrons in ,paris4 ,at the same time ,i proposed to them a scheme by which he might be relieved1 without suspecting any thing of the matter4 ,this was to engage the bookseller1 who was to publish his ,dictionary1 to give ,mr ,rousseau a greater sum for the copy than he had offered1 and to indemnify him by paying him the difference4 ,but this project1 which could not be executed without the assistance of ,mr ,clairaut1 fell to the ground at the unexpected decease of that learned and respectable academician4 ,retaining1 however1 still the same idea of ,mr ,rousseau's excessive poverty1 ,i constantly retained the same inclination to oblige him2 and when ,i was informed of his intention to go to ,england under my conduct1 ,i formed a scheme much of the same kind with that ,i could not execute at ,paris4 ,i wrote immediately to my friend1 ,mr ,john ,stewart of ,buckingham ,street1 that ,i had an affair to communicate to him1 of so secret and delicate a nature1 that ,i should not venture even to commit it to paper1 but that he might learn the particulars of ,mr ,elliot 7now ,sir ,gilbert ,elliot71 who would soon return from ,paris to ,london4 ,the plan was this1 and was really communicated by ,mr ,elliot some time after to ,mr ,stewart1 who was at the same time enjoined to the greatest secrecy4 ,mr ,stewart was to look out for some honest discreet farmer in his neighbourhood in the country1 who might be willing to lodge and board ,mr ,rousseau and his gouvernante in a very decent and plentiful manner1 at a pension which ,mr ,stewart might settle at fifty or sixty pounds a year2 the farmer engaging to keep such agreement a profound secret1 and to receive from ,mr ,rousseau only twenty or twenty-five pounds a year1 ,i engaging to supply the difference4 ,it was not long before ,mr ,stewart wrote me word he had found a situation which he conceived might be agreeable2 on which ,i desired he would get the apartment furnished in a proper and convenient manner at my expense4 ,but this scheme1 in which there could not possibly enter any motive of vanity on my part1 secrecy being a necessary condition of its execution1 did not take place1 other designs presenting themselves more convenient and agreeable4 ,the fact1 however1 is well known both to ,mr ,stewart and ,sir ,gilbert ,elliot4 ,it will not be improper here to mention another plan concerted with the same intentions4 ,i had accompanied ,mr ,rousseau into a very pleasant part of the county of ,surry1 where he spent two days at ,colonel ,webb's1 ,mr ,rousseau seeming to me highly delighted with the natural and solitary beauties of the place4 ,through the means of ,mr ,stewart1 therefore1 ,i entered into treaty with ,colonel ,webb for the purchasing the house1 with a little estate adjoining1 in order to make a settlement for ,mr ,rousseau4 ,if1 after what has passed1 ,mr ,rousseau's testimony be of any validity1 ,i may appeal to himself for the truth of what ,i advance4 ,but be this as it will1 these facts are well known to ,mr ,stewart1 to ,general ,clarke1 and in part to ,colonel ,webb4 ,but to proceed in my narrative4 ,mr ,rousseau came to ,paris1 provided with a passport which his friends had obtained for him4 ,i conducted him to ,england4 ,for upwards of two months after our arrival1 ,i employed myself and my friends in looking out for some agreeable situation for him4 ,we gave way to all his caprices2 excused all his singularities2 indulged him in all his humours2 in short1 neither time nor trouble was spared to procure him what he desired2#b and1 notwithstanding he rejected several of the projects which ,i had laid out for him1 yet ,i thought myself sufficiently recompensed for my trouble by the gratitude and even affection with which he appeared to repay my solicitude4 ,at length his present settlement was proposed and approved4 ,mr ,davenport1 a gentleman of family1 fortune and worth1 offered him his house at ,wooton1 in the county of ,derby1 where he himself seldom resides1 and at which ,mr ,rousseau and his housekeeper are boarded at a very moderate expense4 ,when ,mr ,rousseau arrived at ,wooton1 he wrote me the following letter4 #b ,it is probably to this excessive and ill-judged complaisance ,mr ,hume may in a great degree impute the disagreeable consequences that have followed4 ,there is no end in indulging caprice1 nor any prudence in doing it1 when it is known to be such4 ,it may be thought humane to indulge the weak of body or mind1 the decrepitude of age1 and imbecility of childhood2 but even here it too often proves cruelty to the very parties indulged4 ,how much more inexcusable1 therefore1 is it to cherish the absurdities of whim and singularity in men of genius and abilities6 ,how is it possible to make a man easy or happy in a world1 to whose customs and maxims he is determined to run retrograde8 ,no4 ,capricious men1 like forward children1 should be left to kick against the pricks1 and vent their spleen unnoticed4 ,to humour1 is only to spoil them4--,english ,translator4 ,,mr ,,rousseau ,,to ,,mr ,,hume4 ,wooton1 ,march #bb1 #agff4 ,you see already1 my dear patron1 by the date of my letter1 that ,i am arrived at the place of my destination2 but you cannot see all the charms which ,i find in it4 ,to do this1 you should be acquainted with the situation1 and be able to read my heart4 ,you ought1 however1 to read at least those of my sentiments with respect to you1 and which you have so well deserved4 ,if ,i live in this agreeable asylum as happy as ,i hope to do1 one of the greatest pleasures of my life will be1 to reflect that ,i owe it to you4 ,to make another happy1 is to deserve to be happy one's self4 ,may you therefore find in yourself the reward of all you have done for me6 ,had ,i been alone1 ,i might perhaps have met with hospitality2 but ,i should have never relished it so highly as ,i now do in owing it to your friendship4 ,retain still that friendship for me1 my dear patron2 love me for my sake1 who am so much indebted to you2 love me for your own1 for the good you have done me4 ,i am sensible of the full value of your sincere friendship3 it is the object of my ardent wishes3 ,i am ready to repay it with all mine1 and feel something in my heart which may one day convince you that it is not without its value4 ,as1 for the reasons agreed on between us1 ,i shall receive nothing by the post1 you will be pleased1 when you have the goodness to write to me1 to send your letters to ,mr ,davenport4 ,the affair of the carriage is not yet adjusted1 because ,i know ,i was imposed on4 ,it is a trifling fault1 however1 which may be only the effect of an obliging vanity1 unless it should happen to be repeated4 ,if you were concerned in it1 ,i would advise you to give up1 once for all1 these little impositions1 which cannot proceed from any good motive1 when converted into snares for simplicity4 ,i embrace you1 my dear patron1 with the same cordiality which ,i hope to find in you4 ,j4 ,j4 ,r4 ,some few days after1 ,i received from him another letter1 of which the following is a copy4 ,,mr ,,rousseau ,,to ,,mr ,,hume4 ,wooton1 ,march #bi1 #agff4 ,you will see1 my dear patron1 by the letter ,mr ,davenport will have transmitted you1 how agreeably ,i find myself situated in this place4 ,i might perhaps be more at my ease if ,i were less noticed2 but the solicitude of so polite an host as mine is too obliging to give offence2 and as there is nothing in life without its inconvenience1 that of being too good is one of those which is the most tolerable4 ,i find a much greater inconvenience in not being able to make the servants understand me1 and particularly in my not understanding them4 ,luckily ,mrs le ,vasseur serves me as interpreter1 and her fingers speak better than my tongue4 ,there is one advantage1 however1 attending my ignorance1 which is a kind of compensation2 it serves to tire and keep at a distance impertinent visitors4 ,the minister of the parish came to see me yesterday1 who1 finding that ,i spoke to him only in ,french1 would not speak to me in ,english1 so that our interview was almost a silent one4 ,i have taken a great fancy to this expedient1 and shall make use of it with all my neighbours1 if ,i have any4 ,nay1 should ,i even learn to speak ,english1 ,i would converse with them only in ,french1 especially if ,i were so happy as to find they did not understand a word of that language2 an artifice this1 much of the same kind with that which the ,negroes pretend is practised by the monkeys1 who1 they say1 are capable of speech1 but cannot be prevailed upon to talk1 lest they should be set to work4 ,it is not true in any sense that ,i agreed to accept of a model from ,mr ,gosset as a present4 ,on the contrary1 ,i asked him the price1 which he told me was a guinea and half1 adding that he intended to present me with it2 an offer ,i did not accept4 ,i desire you therefore to pay him for it1 and ,mr ,davenport will be so good as repay you the money4 ,and if ,mr ,gosset does not consent to be paid for it1 it must be returned to him1 and purchased by some other hand4 ,it is designed for ,mr du ,peyrou1 who desired long since to have my portrait1 and caused one to be painted in miniature1 which is not at all like me4 ,you were more fortunate in this respect than me2 but ,i am sorry that1 by your assiduity to serve me1 you deprived me of the pleasure of discharging the same friendly obligation with regard to yourself4 ,be so good1 my dear patron1 as to order the model to be sent to ,messrs ,guinand and ,hankey1 ,little ,st ,helen's1 ,bishopsgate ,street1 in order to be transmitted to ,mr du ,peyrou by the first safe conveyance4 ,it hath been a frost ever since ,i have been here2 the snow falls daily2 and the wind is cutting and severe2 notwithstanding all which1 ,i had rather lodge in the hollow trunk of an old tree1 in this country1 than in the most superb apartment in ,london4 ,good day1 my dear patron4 ,i embrace you with all my heart4 ,j4 ,j4 ,r4 ,mr ,rousseau and ,i having agreed not to lay each other under any restraint by a continued correspondence1 the only subject of our future letters was the obtaining a pension for him from the ,king of ,england1 which was then in agitation1 and of which affair the following is a concise and faithful relation4 ,as we were conversing together one evening at ,calais1 where we were detained by contrary winds1 ,i asked ,mr ,rousseau if he would not accept of a pension from the ,king of ,england1 in case his ,majesty should be pleased to grant him one4 ,to this he replied1 it was a matter of some difficulty to resolve on1 but that he should be entirely directed by the advice of my ,lord ,marshall4 ,encouraged by this answer1 ,i no sooner arrived in ,london than ,i addressed myself to his ,majesty's ,ministers1 and particularly to ,general ,conway1 ,secretary of ,state1 and ,general ,grme1 ,secretary and ,chamberlain to the ,queen4 ,application was accordingly made to their ,majesties1 who1 with their usual goodness1 consented1 on condition only that the affair should not be made public4 ,mr ,rousseau and ,i both wrote to my ,lord ,marshall2 and ,mr ,rousseau expressly observed in his letter1 that the circumstance of the affair's being to be kept secret was very agreeable to him4 ,the consent of my ,lord ,marshall arrived1 as may readily be imagined2 soon after which ,mr ,rousseau set out for ,wooton1 while the business remained some time in suspense1 on account of the indisposition of ,general ,conway4 ,in the mean time1 ,i began to be afraid1 from what ,i had observed of ,mr ,rousseau's disposition and character1 that his natural restlessness of mind would prevent the enjoyment of that repose1 to which the hospitality and security he found in ,england invited him4 ,i saw1 with infinite regret1 that he was born for storms and tumults1 and that the disgust which might succeed the peaceful enjoyment of solitude and tranquillity1 would soon render him a burthen to himself and every body about him4#c ,but1 as ,i lived at the distance of an hundred and fifty miles from the place of his residence1 and was constantly employed in doing him good offices1 ,i did not expect that ,i myself should be the victim of this unhappy disposition4 #c ,in forming the opinion of ,mr ,rousseau's disposition1 ,mr ,hume was by no means singular4 ,the striking features of ,mr ,rousseau's extraordinary character having been strongly marked in the criticisms on his several writings1 in the ,monthly ,review1 particularly in the account of his ,letters from the ,mountains1 in the appendix to the #cast vol4 of that work1 where this celebrated genius is described1 merely from the general tenour of his writings and the outlines of his public conduct1 to be exactly such a kind of person as ,mr ,hume hath discovered him from intimate and personal acquaintance4--,english translator4 ,it is necessary to introduce here a letter1 which was written last winter1 at ,paris1 in the name of the king of ,prussia4 ,,my ,,dear ,,john ,,james1 ,you have renounced ,geneva1 your native soil4 ,you have been driven from ,switzerland1 a country of which you have made such boast in your writings4 ,in ,france you are outlawed3 come then to me4 ,i admire your talents1 and amuse myself with your reveries2 on which1 however1 by the way1 you bestow too much time and attention4 ,it is high time to grow prudent and happy2 you have made yourself sufficiently talked of for singularities little becoming a truly great man3 show your enemies that you have sometimes common sense3 this will vex them without hurting you4 ,my dominions afford you a peaceable retreat3 ,i am desirous to do you good1 and will do it1 if you can but think it such4 ,but if you are determined to refuse my assistance1 you may expect that ,i shall say not a word about it to any one4 ,if you persist in perplexing your brains to find out new misfortunes1 choose such as you like best2 ,i am a king1 and can make you as miserable as you can wish2 at the same time1 ,i will engage to do that which your enemies never will1 ,i will cease to persecute you1 when you are no longer vain of persecution4 ,your sincere friend1 ,,frederick4 ,this letter was written by ,mr ,horace ,walpole1 about three weeks before ,i left ,paris2 but though we lodged in the same hotel1 and were often together1 ,mr ,walpole1 out of regard to me1 carefully concealed this piece of pleasantry till after my departure4 ,he then showed it to some friends1 who took copies2 and those of course presently multiplied2 so that this little piece had been spread with rapidity all over ,europe1 and was in every body's hands when ,i saw it1 for the first time1 in ,london4 ,i believe every one will allow1 who knows any thing of the liberty of this country1 that such a piece of raillery could not1 even by the utmost influence of kings1 lords and commons1 by all the authority ecclesiastical1 civil and military1 be kept from finding its way to the press4 ,it was accordingly published in the ,st ,james's ,chronicle1 and a few days after ,i was very much surprised to find the following piece in the same paper4 ,,mr ,,rousseau ,,to ,,the ,,author ,,of ,,the ,,st ,,james',s ,,chronicle4 ,wooton1 ,april #gth1 #agff4 ,,sir1 ,you have been wanting in that respect which every private person owes to crowned heads1 in publickly ascribing to the ,king of ,prussia1 a letter full of baseness and extravagance2 by which circumstance alone1 you might be very well assured he could not be the author4 ,you have even dared to subscribe his name1 as if you had seen him write it with his own hand4 ,i inform you1 ,sir1 that this letter was fabricated at ,paris1 and1 what rends and afflicts my heart1 that the impostor hath his accomplices in ,england4 ,in justice to the ,king of ,prussia1 to truth1 and to myself1 you ought therefore to print the letter ,i am now writing1 and to which ,i set my name1 by way of reparation for a fault1 which you would undoubtedly reproach yourself for if you knew of what atrociousness you have been made the instrument4 ,sir1 ,i make you my sincere salutations4 ,j4 ,j4 ,r4 ,i was sorry to see ,mr ,rousseau display such an excess of sensibility1 on account of so simple and unavoidable an incident1 as the publication of this pretended letter from the ,king of ,prussia4 ,but ,i should have accused myself of a most black and malevolent disposition1 if ,i had imagined ,mr ,rousseau could have suspected me to have been the editor of it1 or that he had intentionally directed his resentment against me4 ,he now informs me1 however1 that this was really the case4 ,just eight days before1 ,i had received a letter1 written in the most amicable terms imaginable4#d ,i am1 surely1 the last man in the world1 who1 in common sense1 ought to be suspected2 yet1 without even the pretence of the smallest proof or probability1 ,i am1 of a sudden1 the first man not only suspected1 but certainly concluded to be the publisher2 ,i am1 without further inquiry or explication1 intentionally insulted in a public paper2 ,i am1 from the dearest friend1 converted into a treacherous and malignant enemy2 and all my present and past services are at one stroke very artfully cancelled4 ,were it not ridiculous to employ reasoning on such a subject1 and with such a man1 ,i might ask ,mr ,rousseau1 ,why ,i am supposed to have any malignity against him8 ,my actions1 in a hundred instances1 had sufficiently demonstrated the contrary2 and it is not usual for favours conferred to beget ill will in the person who confers them4 ,but supposing ,i had secretly entertained an animosity towards him1 would ,i run the risk of a discovery1 by so silly a vengeance1 and by sending this piece to the press1 when ,i knew1 from the usual avidity of the news-writers to find articles of intelligence1 that it must necessarily in a few days be laid hold of8 #d ,that of the #bith of ,march4 ,but not imagining that ,i was the object of so black and ridiculous a suspicion1 ,i pursued my usual train1 by serving my friend in the least doubtful manner4 ,i renewed my applications to ,general ,conway1 as soon as the state of that gentleman's health permitted it3 the ,general applies again to his ,majesty3 his ,majesty's consent is renewed3 the ,marquis of ,rockingham1 first ,commissioner of the ,treasury1 is also applied to3 the whole affair is happily finished2 and full of joy1 ,i conveyed the intelligence to my friend4 ,on which ,mr ,conway soon after received the following letter4 ,,mr ,,rousseau ,,to ,,general ,,conway4 ,may #abth1 #agff4 ,,sir1 ,affected with a most lively sense of the favour his ,majesty hath honoured me with1 and with that of your goodness1 which procured it me1 it affords me the most pleasing sensation to reflect1 that the best of ,kings1 and the ,minister most worthy of his confidence1 are pleased to interest themselves in my fortune4 ,this1 ,sir1 is an advantage of which ,i am justly tenacious1 and which ,i will never deserve to lose4 ,but it is necessary ,i should speak to you with that frankness you admire4 ,after the many misfortunes that have befallen me1 ,i thought myself armed against all possible events4 ,there have happened to me some1 however1 which ,i did not foresee1 and which indeed an ingenuous mind ought not to have foreseen3 hence it is that they affect me by so much the more severely4 ,the trouble in which they involve me1 indeed1 deprives me of the ease and presence of mind necessary to direct my conduct3 all ,i can reasonably do1 under so distressed a situation1 is to suspend my resolutions about every affair of such importance as is that in agitation4 ,so far from refusing the beneficence of the ,king from pride1 as is imputed to me1 ,i am proud of acknowledging it1 and am only sorry ,i cannot do it more publicly4 ,but when ,i actually receive it1 ,i would be able to give up myself entirely to those sentiments which it would naturally inspire1 and to have an heart replete with gratitude for his ,majesty's goodness and yours4 ,i am not at all afraid this manner of thinking will make any alteration in yours towards me4 ,deign1 therefore1 ,sir1 to preserve that goodness for me1 till a more happy opportunity1 when you will be satisfied that ,i defer taking the advantage of it1 only to render myself more worthy of it4 ,i beg of you1 ,sir1 to accept of my most humble and respectful salutations4 ,j4 ,j4 ,r4 ,this letter appeared both to ,general ,conway and me a plain refusal1 as long as the article of secrecy was insisted on2 but as ,i knew that ,mr ,rousseau had been acquainted with that condition from the beginning1 ,i was the less surprised at his silence towards me4 ,i thought that my friend1 conscious of having treated me ill in this affair1 was ashamed to write to me2 and having prevailed on ,general ,conway to keep the matter still open1 ,i wrote a very friendly letter to ,mr ,rousseau1 exhorting him to return to his former way of thinking1 and to accept of the pension4 ,as to the deep distress which he mentions to ,general ,conway1 and which1 he says1 deprives him even of the use of his reason1 ,i was set very much at ease on that head1 by receiving a letter from ,mr ,davenport1 who told me1 that his guest was at that very time extremely happy1 easy1 cheerful1 and even sociable4 ,i saw plainly1 in this event1 the usual infirmity of my friend1 who wishes to interest the world in his favour1 by passing for sickly1 and persecuted1 and distressed1 and unfortunate1 beyond all measure1 even while he is the most happy and contented4 ,his pretences of an extreme sensibility had been too frequently repeated1 to have any effect on a man who was so well acquainted with them4 ,i waited three weeks in vain for an answer3 ,i thought this a little strange1 and ,i even wrote so to ,mr ,davenport2 but having to do with a very odd sort of a man1 and still accounting for his silence by supposing him ashamed to write to me1 ,i was resolved not to be discouraged1 nor to lose the opportunity of doing him an essential service1 on account of a vain ceremonial4 ,i accordingly renewed my applications to the ,ministers1 and was so happy as to be enabled to write the following letter to ,mr ,rousseau1 the only one of so old a date of which ,i have a copy4 ,,mr ,,hume ,,to ,,mr ,,rousseau4 ,lisle-street1 ,leicester-fields1 #aith ,june1 #agff4 ,as ,i have not received any answer from you1 ,i conclude1 that you persevere in the same resolution of refusing all marks of his ,majesty's goodness1 as long as they must remain a secret4 ,i have therefore applied to ,general ,conway to have this condition removed2 and ,i was so fortunate as to obtain his promise that he would speak to the ,king for that purpose4 ,it will only be requisite1 said he1 that we know previously from ,mr ,rousseau1 whether he would accept of a pension publicly granted him1 that his ,majesty may not be exposed to a second refusal4 ,he gave me authority to write to you on that subject2 and ,i beg to hear your resolution as soon as possible4 ,if you give your consent1 which ,i earnestly entreat you to do1 ,i know1 that ,i could depend on the good offices of the ,duke of ,richmond1 to second ,general ,conway's application2 so that ,i have no doubt of success4 ,i am1 my ,dear ,sir1 ,yours1 with great sincerity1 ,d4 ,h4 ,in five days ,i received the following answer4 ,,mr ,,rousseau ,,to ,,mr ,,hume4 ,wooton1 ,june #bc;d1 #agff4 ,i imagined1 ,sir1 that my silence1 truly interpreted by your own conscience1 had said enough2 but since you have some design in not understanding me1 ,i shall speak4 ,you have but ill disguised yourself4 ,i know you1 and you are not ignorant of it4 ,before we had any personal connections1 quarrels1 or disputes2 while we knew each other only by literary reputation1 you affectionately made me the offer of the good offices of yourself and friends4 ,affected by this generosity1 ,i threw myself into your arms2 you brought me to ,england1 apparently to procure me an asylum1 but in fact to bring me to dishonour4 ,you applied to this noble work1 with a zeal worthy of your heart1 and a success worthy of your abilities4 ,you needed not have taken so much pains3 you live and converse with the world2 ,i with myself in solitude4 ,the public love to be deceived1 and you were formed to deceive them4 ,i know one man1 however1 whom you can not deceive2 ,i mean myself4 ,you know with what horror my heart rejected the first suspicion of your designs4 ,you know ,i embraced you with tears in my eyes1 and told you1 if you were not the best of men1 you must be the blackest of mankind4 ,in reflecting on your private conduct1 you must say to yourself sometimes1 you are not the best of men3 under which conviction1 ,i doubt much if ever you will be the happiest4 ,i leave your friends and you to carry on your schemes as you please2 giving up to you1 without regret1 my reputation during life2 certain that1 sooner or later1 justice will be done to that of both4 ,as to your good offices in matters of interest1 which you have made use of as a mask1 ,i thank you for them1 and shall dispense with profiting by them4 ,i ought not to hold a correspondence with you any longer1 or to accept of it to my advantage in any affair in which you are to be the mediator4 ,adieu1 ,sir1 ,i wish you the truest happiness2 but as we ought not to have any thing to say to each other for the future1 this is the last letter you will receive from me4 ,j4 ,j4 ,r4 ,to this ,i immediately sent the following reply4 ,,mr ,,hume ,,to ,,mr ,,rousseau4 ,june #bfth1 #agff4 ,as ,i am conscious of having ever acted towards you the most friendly part1 of having always given the most tender1 the most active proofs of sincere affection2 you may judge of my extreme surprize on perusing your epistle4 ,such violent accusations1 confined altogether to generals1 it is as impossible to answer1 as it is impossible to comprehend them4 ,but affairs cannot1 must not remain on that footing4 ,i shall charitably suppose1 that some infamous calumniator has belied me to you4 ,but in that case1 it is your duty1 and ,i am persuaded it will be your inclination1 to give me an opportunity of detecting him1 and of justifying myself2 which can only be done by your mentioning the particulars of which ,i am accused4 ,you say1 that ,i myself know that ,i have been false to you2 but ,i say it loudly1 and will say it to the whole world1 that ,i know the contrary1 that ,i know my friendship towards you has been unbounded and uninterrupted1 and that though instances of it have been very generally remarked both in ,france and ,england1 the smallest part of it only has as yet come to the knowledge of the public4 ,i demand1 that you will produce me the man who will assert the contrary2 and above all1 ,i demand1 that he will mention any one particular in which ,i have been wanting to you4 ,you owe this to me2 you owe it to yourself2 you owe it to truth1 and honour1 and justice1 and to every thing that can be deemed sacred among men4 ,as an innocent man2 ,i will not say1 as your friend2 ,i will not say1 as your benefactor2 but1 ,i repeat it1 as an innocent man1 ,i claim the privilege of proving my innocence1 and of refuting any scandalous lie which may have been invented against me4 ,mr ,davenport1 to whom ,i have sent a copy of your letter1 and who will read this before he delivers it1 ,i am confident1 will second my demand1 and will tell you1 that nothing possibly can be more equitable4 ,happily ,i have preserved the letter you wrote me after your arrival at ,wooton2 and you there express in the strongest terms1 indeed in terms too strong1 your satisfaction in my poor endeavours to serve you3 the little epistolary intercourse which afterwards passed between us1 has been all employed on my side to the most friendly purposes4 ,tell me1 what has since given you offence4 ,tell me of what ,i am accused4 ,tell me the man who accuses me4 ,even after you have fulfilled all these conditions1 to my satisfaction1 and to that of ,mr ,davenport1 you will have great difficulty to justify the employing such outrageous terms towards a man1 with whom you have been so intimately connected1 and whom1 on many accounts1 you ought to have treated with some regard and decency4 ,mr ,davenport knows the whole transaction about your pension1 because ,i thought it necessary that the person who had undertaken your settlement1 should be fully acquainted with your circumstances2 lest he should be tempted to perform towards you concealed acts of generosity1 which1 if they accidentally came to your knowledge1 might give you some grounds of offence4 ,i am1 ,sir1 ,d4 ,h4 ,mr ,davenport's authority procured me1 in three weeks1 the following enormous letter2 which however has this advantage1 that it confirms all the material circumstances of the foregoing narrative4 ,i have subjoined a few notes relative to some facts which ,mr ,rousseau hath not truly represented1 and leave my readers to judge which of us deserves the greatest confidence4 ,,mr ,,rousseau ,,to ,,mr ,,hume4 ,wooton1 ,july #aj1 #agff4 ,,sir1 ,i am indisposed1 and little in a situation to write2 but you require an explanation1 and it must be given you3 it was your own fault you had it not long since2 but you did not desire it1 and ,i was therefore silent3 at present you do1 and ,i have sent it4 ,it will be a long one1 for which ,i am very sorry2 but ,i have much to say1 and would put an end to the subject at once4 ,as ,i live retired from the world1 ,i am ignorant of what passes in it4 ,i have no party1 no associates1 no intrigues2 ,i am told nothing1 and ,i know only what ,i feel4 ,but as care hath been taken to make me severely feel2 that ,i well know4 ,the first concern of those who engage in bad designs is to secure themselves from legal proofs of detection3 it would not be very advisable to seek a remedy against them at law4 ,the innate conviction of the heart admits of another kind of proof1 which influences the sentiments of honest men4 ,you well know the basis of mine4 ,you ask me1 with great confidence1 to name your accuser4 ,that accuser1 ,sir1 is the only man in the world whose testimony ,i should admit against you2 it is yourself4 ,i shall give myself up1 without fear or reserve1 to the natural frankness of my disposition2 being an enemy to every kind of artifice1 ,i shall speak with the same freedom as if you were an indifferent person1 on whom ,i placed all that confidence which ,i no longer have in you4 ,i will give you a history of the emotions of my heart1 and of what produced them2 while speaking of ,mr ,hume in the third person1 ,i shall make yourself the judge of what ,i ought to think of him4 ,notwithstanding the length of my letter1 ,i shall pursue no other order than that of my ideas1 beginning with the premises1 and ending with the demonstration4 ,i quitted ,switzerland1 wearied out by the barbarous treatment ,i had undergone2 but which affected only my personal security1 while my honour was safe4 ,i was going1 as my heart directed me1 to join my ,lord ,marshal2 when ,i received at ,strasburg1 a most affectionate invitation from ,mr ,hume1 to go over with him to ,england1 where he promised me the most agreeable reception1 and more tranquillity than ,i have met with4 ,i hesitated some time between my old friend and my new one2 in this ,i was wrong4 ,i preferred the latter1 and in this was still more so4 ,but the desire of visiting in person a celebrated nation1 of which ,i had heard both so much good and so much ill1 prevailed4 ,assured ,i could not lose ,george ,keith1 ,i was flattered with the acquisition of ,david ,hume4 ,his great merit1 extraordinary abilities1 and established probity of character1 made me desirous of annexing his friendship to that with which ,i was honoured by his illustrious countrymen4 ,besides1 ,i gloried not a little in setting an example to men of letters1 in a sincere union between two men so different in their principles4 ,before ,i had received an invitation from the ,king of ,prussia1 and my ,lord ,marshal1 undetermined about the place of my retreat1 ,i had desired1 and obtained by the interest of my friends1 a passport from the ,court of ,france4 ,i made use of this1 and went to ,paris to join ,mr ,hume4 ,he saw1 and perhaps saw too much of1 the favourable reception ,i met with from a great ,prince1 and ,i will venture to say1 of the public4 ,i yielded1 as it was my duty1 though with reluctance1 to that eclat2 concluding how far it must excite the envy of my enemies4 ,at the same time1 ,i saw with pleasure1 the regard which the public entertained for ,mr ,hume1 sensibly increasing throughout ,paris1 on account of the good work he had undertaken with respect to me4 ,doubtless he was affected too2 but ,i know not if it was in the same manner as ,i was4 ,we set out with one of my friends1 who came to ,england almost entirely on my account4 ,when we were landed at ,dover1 transported with the thoughts of having set foot in this land of liberty1 under the conduct of so celebrated a person1 ,i threw my arms round his neck1 and pressed him to my heart1 without speaking a syllable2 bathing his cheeks1 as ,i kissed them1 with tears sufficiently expressive4 ,this was not the only1 nor the most remarkable instance ,i have given him of the effusions of a heart full of sensibility4 ,i know not what he does with the recollection of them1 when that happens2 but ,i have a notion they must be sometimes troublesome to him4 ,at our arrival in ,london1 we were mightily caressed and entertained3 all ranks of people eagerly pressing to give me marks of their benevolence and esteem4 ,mr ,hume presented me politely to every body2 and it was natural for me to ascribe to him1 as ,i did1 the best part of my good reception4 ,my heart was full of him1 ,i spoke in his praise to every one1 ,i wrote to the same purpose to all my friends2 my attachment to him gathering every day new strength1 while his appeared the most affectionate to me1 of which he frequently gave me instances that touched me extremely4 ,that of causing my portrait to be painted1 however1 was not of the number4 ,this seemed to me to carry with it too much the affectation of popularity1 and had an air of ostentation which by no means pleased me4 ,all this1 however1 might have been easily excusable1 had ,mr ,hume been a man apt to throw away his money1 or had a gallery of pictures with the portraits of his friends4 ,after all1 ,i freely confess1 that1 on this head1 ,i may be in the wrong4#e ,but what appears to me an act of friendship and generosity the most undoubted and estimable1 in a word1 the most worthy of ,mr ,hume1 was the care he took to solicit for me1 of his own accord1 a pension from the ,king1 to which most assuredly ,i had no right to aspire4 ,as ,i was a witness to the zeal he exerted in that affair1 ,i was greatly affected with it4 ,nothing could flatter me more than a piece of service of that nature2 not merely for the sake of interest2 for1 too much attached1 perhaps1 to what ,i actually possess1 ,i am not capable of desiring what ,i have not1 and1 as ,i am able to subsist on my labour1 and the assistance of my friends1 ,i covet nothing more4 ,but the honour of receiving testimonies of the goodness1 ,i will not say of so great a monarch1 but of so good a father1 so good a husband1 so good a master1 so good a friend1 and1 above all1 so worthy a man1 was sensibly affecting3 and when ,i considered farther1 that the minister who had obtained for me this favour1 was a living instance of that probity which of all others is the most important to mankind1 and at the same time hardly ever met with in the only character wherein it can be useful1 ,i could not check the emotions of my pride1 at having for my benefactors three men1 who of all the world ,i could most desire to have my friends4 ,thus1 so far from refusing the pension offered me1 ,i only made one condition necessary for my acceptance2 this was the consent of a person1 whom ,i could not1 without neglecting my duty1 fail to consult4 ,being honoured with the civilities of all the world1 ,i endeavoured to make a proper return4 ,in the mean time1 my bad state of health1 and being accustomed to live in the country1 made my residence in town very disagreeable4 ,immediately country houses presented themselves in plenty2 ,i had my choice of all the counties of ,england4 ,mr ,hume took the trouble to receive these proposals1 and to represent them to me2 accompanying me to two or three in the neighbouring counties4 ,i hesitated a good while in my choice1 and he increased the difficulty of determination4 ,at length ,i fixed on this place1 and immediately ,mr ,hume settled the affair2 all difficulties vanished1 and ,i departed2 arriving presently at this solitary1 convenient1 and agreeable habitation1 where the owner of the house provides every thing1 and nothing is wanting4 ,i became tranquil1 independent2 and this seemed to be the wished-for moment when all my misfortunes should have an end4 ,on the contrary1 it was now they began2 misfortunes more cruel than any ,i had yet experienced4 ,hitherto ,i have spoken in the fulness of my heart1 and to do justice1 with the greatest pleasure1 to the good offices of ,mr ,hume4 ,would to ,heaven that what remains for me to say were of the same nature6 ,it would never give me pain to speak what would redound to his honour2 nor is it proper to set a value on benefits till one is accused of ingratitude1 which is the case at present4 ,i will venture to make one observation1 therefore1 which renders it necessary4 ,in estimating the services of ,mr ,hume1 by the time and the pains they took him up1 they were of an infinite value1 and that still more from the good will displayed in their performance2 but for the actual service they were of to me1 it was much more in appearance than reality4 ,i did not come over to beg my bread in ,england2 ,i brought the means of subsistence with me4 ,i came merely to seek an asylum in a country which is open to every stranger without distinction4 ,i was1 besides1 not so totally unknown as that1 if ,i had arrived alone1 ,i should have wanted either assistance or service4 ,if some persons have sought my acquaintance for the sake of ,mr ,hume1 others have sought it for my own4 ,thus1 when ,mr ,davenport1 for example1 was so kind as to offer my present retreat1 it was not for the sake of ,mr ,hume1 whom he did not know1 and whom he saw only in order to desire him to make me his obliging proposal2 so that1 when ,mr ,hume endeavours to alienate from me this worthy man1 he takes that from me which he did not give me4#f ,all the good that hath been done me1 would have been done me nearly the same without him1 and perhaps better2 but the evil would not have been done me at all2 for why should ,i have enemies in ,england8 ,why are those enemies all the friends of ,mr ,hume8 ,who could have excited their enmity against me8 ,it certainly was not ,i1 who knew nothing of them1 nor ever saw them in my life4 ,i should not have had a single enemy had ,i come to ,england alone4#g ,i have hitherto dwelt upon public and notorious facts1 which1 from their own nature1 and my acknowledgment1 have made the greatest eclat4 ,those which are to follow are particular and secret1 at least in their cause2 and all possible measures have been taken to keep the knowledge of them from the public2 but as they are well known to the person interested1 they will not have the less influence toward his own conviction4 ,a very short time after our arrival in ,london1 ,i observed an absurd change in the minds of the people regarding me1 which soon became very apparent4 ,before ,i arrived in ,england1 there was not a nation in ,europe in which ,i had a greater reputation1 ,i will venture to say1 or was held in greater estimation4 ,the public papers were full of encomiums on me1 and a general outcry prevailed on my persecutors4#h ,this was the case at my arrival1 which was published in the newspapers with triumph2 ,england prided itself in affording me refuge1 and justly gloried on that occasion in its laws and government2 when all of a sudden1 without the least assignable cause1 the tone was changed1 and that so speedily and totally1 that1 of all the caprices of the public1 never was known any thing more surprising4 ,the signal was given in a certain ,magazine1 equally full of follies and falsehoods1 in which the author1 being well informed1 or pretending to be so1 gives me out for the son of a musician4 ,from this time#i ,i was constantly spoken of in print in a very equivocal or slighting manner4#aj ,every thing that had been published concerning my misfortunes was misrepresented1 altered1 or placed in a wrong light1 and always as much as possible to my disadvantage4 ,so far was any body from speaking of the reception ,i met with at ,paris1 and which had made but too much noise1 it was not generally supposed that ,i durst have appeared in that city1 even one of ,mr ,hume's friends being very much surprised when ,i told him ,i came through it4 ,accustomed as ,i had been too much to the inconstancy of the public1 to be affected by this instance of it1 ,i could not help being astonished1 however1 at a change1 so very sudden and general1 that not one of those who had so much praised me in my absence1 appeared1 now ,i was present1 to think even of my existence4 ,i thought it something very odd that1 immediately after the return of ,mr ,hume1 who had so much credit in ,london1 with so much influence over the booksellers and men of letters1 and such great connections with them1 his presence should produce an effect so contrary to what might have been expected2 that among so many writers of every kind1 not one of his friends should show himself to be mine2 while it was easy to be seen1 that those who spoke of him were not his enemies1 since1 in noticing his public character1 they reported that ,i had come through ,france under his protection1 and by favour of a passport which he had obtained of the court2 nay1 they almost went so far as to insinuate1 that ,i came over in his retinue1 and at his expense4 ,all this was of little signification1 and was only singular2 but what was much more so1 was1 that his friends changed their tone with me as much as the public4 ,i shall always take a pleasure in saying that they were still equally solicitous to serve me1 and that they exerted themselves greatly in my favour2 but so far were they from showing me the same respect1 particularly the gentleman at whose house we alighted on our arrival1 that he accompanied all his actions with discourse so rude1 and sometimes so insulting1 that one would have thought he had taken an occasion to oblige me1 merely to have a right to express his contempt4#aa ,his brother1 who was at first very polite and obliging1 altered his behaviour with so little reserve1 that he would hardly deign to speak a single word to me1 even in their own house1 in return to a civil salutation1 or to pay any of those civilities which are usually paid in like circumstances to strangers4 ,nothing new had happened1 however1 except the arrival of ,j4 ,j4 ,rousseau and ,david ,hume3 and certainly the cause of these alterations did not come from me1 unless1 indeed1 too great a portion of simplicity1 discretion1 and modesty1 be the cause of offence in ,england4 ,as to ,mr ,hume1 he was so far from assuming such a disgusting tone1 that he gave into the other extreme4 ,i have always looked upon flatterers with an eye of suspicion3 and he was so full of all kinds#ab of flattery1 that he even obliged me1 when ,i could bear it no longer1#ac to tell him my sentiments on that head4 ,his behaviour was such as to render few words necessary1 yet ,i could have wished he had substituted1 in the room of such gross encomiums1 sometimes the language of a friend2 but ,i never found any thing in his1 which savoured of true friendship1 not even in his manner of speaking of me to others in my presence4 ,one would have thought that1 in endeavouring to procure me patrons1 he strove to deprive me of their good will2 that he sought rather to have me assisted than loved2 and ,i have been sometimes surprised at the rude turn he hath given to my behaviour before people who might not unreasonably have taken offence at it4 ,i shall give an example of what ,i mean4 ,mr ,pennick of the ,museum1 a friend of my ,lord ,marshal's1 and minister of a parish where ,i was solicited to reside1 came to see me4 ,mr ,hume made my excuses1 while ,i myself was present1 for not having paid him a visit4 ,doctor ,matty1 said he1 invited us on ,thursday to the ,museum1 where ,mr ,rousseau should have seen you2 but he chose rather to go with ,mrs ,garrick to the play3 we could not do both the same day4#ad ,you will confess1 ,sir1 this was a strange method of recommending me to ,mr ,pennick4 ,i know not what ,mr ,hume might say in private of me to his acquaintance1 but nothing was more extraordinary than their behaviour to me1 even by his own confession1 and even often through his own means4 ,although my purse was not empty1 and ,i needed not that of any other person1 which he very well knew1 yet any one would have thought ,i was come over to subsist on the charity of the public1 and that nothing more was to be done than to give me alms in such a manner as to save me a little confusion4#ae ,i must own1 this constant and insolent piece of affectation was one of those things which made me averse to reside in ,london4 ,this certainly was not the footing on which any man should have been introduced in ,england1 had there been a design of procuring him ever so little respect4 ,this display of charity1 however1 may admit of a more favourable interpretation1 and ,i consent it should4 ,to proceed4 ,at ,paris was published a fictitious letter from the ,king of ,prussia1 addressed to me1 and replete with the most cruel malignity4 ,i learned with surprise that it was one ,mr ,walpole1 a a friend of ,mr ,hume's who was the editor2 ,i asked him if it were true2 in answer to which question1 he only asked me1 of whom ,i had the information4 ,a moment before he had given me a card for this same ,mr ,walpole1 written to engage him to bring over such papers as related to me from ,paris1 and which ,i wanted to have by a safe hand4 ,i was informed that the son of that quack#af ,tronchin1 my most mortal enemy1 was not only the friend of ,mr ,hume1 and under his protection1 but that they both lodged in the same house together2 and when ,mr ,hume found that ,i knew it1 he imparted it in confidence2 assuring me at the same time that the son was by no means like the father4 ,i lodged a few nights myself1 together with my governante1 in the same house2 and by the air and manner with which we were received by the landladies1 who are his friends1 ,i judged in what manner either ,mr ,hume1 or that man1 who1 as he said1 was by no means like his father1 must have spoken to them both of her and me4#ag ,all these facts put together1 added to a certain appearance of things on the whole1 insensibly gave me an uneasiness which ,i rejected with horror4 ,in the mean time1 ,i found the letters ,i wrote did not come to hand2 those ,i received had often been opened2 and all went through the hands of ,mr ,hume4#ah ,if at any time any one escaped him1 he could not conceal his eagerness to see it4 ,one evening1 in particular1 ,i remember a very remarkable circumstance of this kind that greatly struck me4#ai ,as we were sitting one evening1 after supper1 silent by the fire-side1 ,i caught his eyes intently fixed on mine1 as indeed happened very often2 and that in a manner of which it is very difficult to give an idea4 ,at that time he gave me a stedfast1 piercing look1 mixed with a sneer1 which greatly disturbed me4 ,to get rid of the embarrassment ,i lay under1 ,i endeavoured to look full at him in my turn2 but1 in fixing my eyes against his1 ,i felt the most inexpressible terror1 and was obliged soon to turn them away4 ,the speech and physiognomy of the good ,david is that of an honest man2 but where1 great ,god6 did this good man borrow those eyes he fixes so sternly and unaccountably on those of his friends8 ,the impression of this look remained with me1 and gave me much uneasiness4 ,my trouble increased even to a degree of fainting2 and if ,i had not been relieved by an effusion of tears1 ,i had been suffocated4 ,presently after this ,i was seized with the most violent remorse2 ,i even despised myself2 till at length1 in a transport which ,i still remember with delight1 ,i sprang on his neck1 embraced him eagerly2 while almost choked with sobbing1 and bathed in tears1 ,i cried out1 in broken accents1 ,no1 no1 ,david ,hume cannot be treacherous4 ,if he be not the best of men1 he must be the basest of mankind4 ,david ,hume politely returned my embraces1 and1 gently1 tapping me on the back1 repeated several times1 in a good-natured and easy tone1 ,why1 what1 my dear ,sir6 ,nay1 my dear ,sir6 ,oh1 my dear ,sir6 ,he said nothing more4 ,i felt my heart yearn within me4 ,we went to bed2 and ,i set out the next day for the country4 ,arrived at this agreeable asylum1 to which ,i have travelled so far in search of repose1 ,i ought to find it in a retired1 convenient1 and pleasant habitation2 the master of which1 a man of understanding and worth1 spares for nothing to render it agreeable to me4 ,but what repose can be tasted in life1 when the heart is agitated8 ,afflicted with the most cruel uncertainty1 and ignorant what to think of a man whom ,i ought to love and esteem1 ,i endeavoured to get rid of that fatal doubt1 in placing confidence in my benefactor4 ,for1 wherefore1 from what unaccountable caprice should he display so much apparent zeal for my happiness1 and at the same time entertain secret designs against my honour4 ,among the several observations that disturbed me1 each fact was in itself of no great moment2 it was their concurrence that was surprising2 yet ,i thought1 perhaps1 that ,mr ,hume1 informed of other facts1 of which ,i was ignorant1 could have given me a satisfactory solution of them1 had we come to an explanation4 ,the only thing that was inexplicable1 was1 that he refused to come to such an explanation2 which both his honour and his friendship rendered equally necessary4 ,i saw very well there was something in the affair which ,i did not comprehend1 and which ,i earnestly wished to know4 ,before ,i came to an absolute determination1 therefore1 with regard to him1 ,i was desirous of making another effort1 and to try to recover him1 if he had permitted himself to be seduced by my enemies1 or1 in short1 to prevail on him to explain himself one way or other4 ,accordingly ,i wrote him a letter1 which he ought to have found very natural1#bj if he were guilty2 but very extraordinary1 if he were innocent4 ,for what could be more extraordinary than a letter full of gratitude for his services1 and at the same time1 of distrust of his sentiments2 and in which1 placing in a manner his actions on one side1 and his sentiments on the other1 instead of speaking of the proofs of friendship he had given me1 ,i desired him to love me1 for the good he had done me6#ba ,i did not take the precaution to preserve a copy of this letter2 but as he hath done it1 let him produce it3 and whoever shall read it1 and see therein a man labouring under a secret trouble1 which he is desirous of expressing1 and is afraid to do it1 will1 ,i am persuaded1 be curious to know what kind of claircissement it produced1 especially after the preceding scene4 ,none4 ,absolutely none at all4 ,mr ,hume contented himself1 in his answer1 with only speaking of the obliging offices ,mr ,davenport proposed to do for me4 ,as for the rest1 he said not a word of the principal subject of my letter1 nor of the situation of my heart1 of whose distress he could not be ignorant4 ,i was more struck with this silence1 than ,i had been with his phlegm during our last conversation4 ,in this ,i was wrong2 this silence was very natural after the other1 and was no more than ,i ought to have expected4 ,for when one hath ventured to declare to a man's face1 ,i am tempted to believe you a traitor1 and he hath not the curiosity to ask you for what1#bb it may be depended on he will never have any such curiosity as long as he lives2 and it is easy to judge of him from these slight indications4 ,after the receipt of his letter1 which was long delayed1 ,i determined at length to write to him no more4 ,soon after1 every thing served to confirm me in the resolution to break off all farther correspondence with him4 ,curious to the last degree concerning the minutest circumstance of my affairs1 he was not content to learn them of me1 in our frequent conversations2 but1 as ,i learned1 never let slip an opportunity of being alone with my governante1#bc to interrogate her even importunately concerning my occupations1 my resources1 my friends1 acquaintances1 their names1 situations1 place of abode1 and all this after setting out with telling her he was well acquainted with the whole of my connections2 nay1 with the most jesuitical address1 he would ask the same questions of us separately4 ,one ought undoubtedly to interest one's self in the affairs of a friend2 but one ought to be satisfied with what he thinks proper to let us know of them1 particularly when people are so frank and ingenuous as ,i am4 ,indeed all this petty inquisitiveness is very little becoming a philosopher4 ,about the same time ,i received two other letters which had been opened4 ,the one from ,mr ,boswell1 the seal of which was so loose and disfigured1 that ,mr ,davenport1 when he received it1 remarked the same to ,mr ,hume's servant4 ,the other was from ,mr d',ivernois1 in ,mr ,hume's packet1 and which had been sealed up again by means of a hot iron1 which1 awkwardly applied1 had burnt the paper round the impression4 ,on this ,i wrote to ,mr ,davenport to desire him to take charge of all the letters which might be sent for me1 and to trust none of them in any body's hands1 under any pretext whatever4 ,i know not whether ,mr ,davenport1 who certainly was far from thinking that precaution was to be observed with regard to ,mr ,hume1 showed him my letter or not2 but this ,i know1 that the latter had all the reason in the world to think he had forfeited my confidence1 and that he proceeded nevertheless in his usual manner1 without troubling himself about the recovery of it4 ,but what was to become of me1 when ,i saw1 in the public papers1 the pretended letter of the ,king of ,prussia which ,i had never before seen1 that fictitious letter1 printed in ,french and ,english1 given for genuine1 even with the signature of the ,king1 and in which ,i knew the pen of ,mr d',alembert as certainly as if ,i had seen him write it8#bd ,in a moment a ray of light discovered to me the secret cause of that touching and sudden change1 which ,i had observed in the public respecting me2 and ,i saw the plot which was put in execution at ,london1 had been laid in ,paris4 ,mr d',alembert1 another intimate friend of ,mr ,hume's1 had been long since my secret enemy1 and lay in watch for opportunities to injure me without exposing himself4 ,he was the only person1 among the men of letters1 of my old acquaintance1 who did not come to see me1#be or send their civilities during my last passage through ,paris4 ,i knew his secret disposition1 but ,i gave myself very little trouble about it1 contenting myself with advising my friends of it occasionally4 ,i remember that being asked about him one day by ,mr ,hume1 who afterwards asked my governante the same question1 ,i told him that ,mr d',alembert was a cunning1 artful man4 ,he contradicted me with a warmth that surprised me2 not then knowing they stood so well with each other1 and that it was his own cause he defended4 ,the perusal of the letter above mentioned alarmed me a good deal1 when1 perceiving that ,i had been brought over to ,england in consequence of a project which began to be put in execution1 but of the end of which ,i was ignorant1 ,i felt the danger without knowing what to guard against1 or on whom to rely4 ,i then recollected four terrifying words ,mr ,hume had made use of1 and of which ,i shall speak hereafter4 ,what could be thought of a paper in which my misfortunes were imputed to me as a crime1 which tended1 in the midst of my distress1 to deprive me of all compassion1 and1 to render its effects still more cruel1 pretended to have been written by a ,prince who had afforded me protection8 ,what could ,i divine would be the consequence of such a beginning8 ,the people in ,england read the public papers1 and are in no wise prepossessed in favour of foreigners4 ,even a coat1 cut in a different fashion from their own1 is sufficient to excite a prejudice against them4 ,what then had not a poor stranger to expect in his rural walks1 the only pleasures of his life1 when the good people in the neighbourhood were once thoroughly persuaded he was fond of being persecuted and pelted8 ,doubtless they would be ready enough to contribute to his favourite amusement4 ,but my concern1 my profound and cruel concern1 the bitterest indeed ,i ever felt1 did not arise from the danger to which ,i was personally exposed4 ,i have braved too many others to be much moved with that4 ,the treachery of a false friend1#bf to which ,i had fallen a prey1 was the circumstance that filled my too susceptible heart with deadly sorrow4 ,in the impetuosity of its first emotions1 of which ,i never yet was master1 and of which my enemies have artfully taken the advantage1 ,i wrote several letters full of disorder1 in which ,i did not disguise either my anxiety or indignation4 ,i have1 ,sir1 so many things to mention1 that ,i forget half of them by the way4 ,for instance1 a certain narrative in form of a letter1 concerning my manner of living at ,montmorency1 was given by the booksellers to ,mr ,hume1 who showed it me4 ,i agreed to its being printed1 and ,mr ,hume undertook the care of its edition2 but it never appeared4 ,again1 ,i had brought over with me a copy of the letters of ,mr du ,peyron1 containing a relation of the treatment ,i had met with at ,neufchtel4 ,i gave them into the hands of the same bookseller to have them translated and reprinted4 ,mr ,hume charged himself with the care of them2 but they never appeared4#bg ,the supposititious letter of the ,king of ,prussia1 and its translation1 had no sooner made their appearance1 than ,i immediately apprehended why the other pieces had been suppressed1#bh and ,i wrote as much to the booksellers4#bi ,i wrote several other letters also1 which probably were handed about ,london2 till at length ,i employed the credit of a man of quality and merit1 to insert a declaration of the imposture in the public papers4 ,in this declaration1 ,i concealed no part of my extreme concern1 nor did ,i in the least disguise the cause4 ,hitherto ,mr ,hume seems to have walked in darkness4 ,you will soon see him appear in open day1 and act without disguise4 ,nothing more is necessary1 in our behaviour towards cunning people1 than to act ingenuously2 sooner or later they will infallibly betray themselves4 ,when this pretended letter from the ,ring of ,prussia was first published in ,london1 ,mr ,hume1 who certainly knew that it was fictitious1 as ,i had told him so1 yet said nothing of the matter1 did not write to me1 but was totally silent2 and did not even think of making any declaration of the truth1 in favour of his absent friend4#cj ,it answered his purpose better to let the report take its course1 as he did4 ,mr ,hume having been my conductor into ,england1 he was of course in a manner my patron and protector4 ,if it were but natural in him to undertake my defence1 it was no less so that1 when ,i had a public protestation to make1 ,i should have addressed myself to him4 ,having already ceased writing to him1#ca however1 ,i had no mind to renew our correspondence4 ,i addressed myself therefore to another person4 ,the first slap on the face ,i gave my patron4 ,he felt nothing of it4 ,in saying the letter was fabricated at ,paris1 it was of very little consequence to me whether it was understood particularly of ,mr d',alembert1 or of ,mr ,walpole1 whose name he borrowed on the occasion4 ,but in adding that1 what afflicted and tore my heart was1 the impostor had got his accomplices in ,england2 ,i expressed myself very clearly to their friend1 who was in ,london1 and was desirous of passing for mine4 ,for certainly he was the only person in ,england1 whose hatred could afflict and rend my heart4 ,this was the second slap of the face ,i gave my patron4 ,he did not feel1 however1 yet4 ,on the contrary1 he maliciously pretended that my affliction arose solely from the publication of the above letter1 in order to make me pass for a man who was excessively affected by satire4 ,whether ,i am vain or not1 certain it is ,i was mortally afflicted2 he knew it1 and yet wrote me not a word4 ,this affectionate friend1 who had so much at heart the filling of my purse1 gave himself no trouble to think my heart was bleeding with sorrow4 ,another piece appeared soon after1 in the same papers1 by the author of the former1 and still if possible more cruel1 in which the writer could not disguise his rage at the reception ,i met with at ,paris4#cb ,this however did not affect me2 it told me nothing new4 ,mere libels may take their course without giving me any emotion2 and the inconstant public may amuse themselves as long as they please with the subject4 ,it is not an affair of conspirators1 who1 bent on the destruction of my honest fame1 are determined by some means or other to effect it4 ,it was necessary to change the battery4 ,the affair of the pension was not determined4 ,it was not difficult1 however1 for ,mr ,hume to obtain1 from the humanity of the minister1 and the generosity of the ,king1 the favour of its determination4 ,he was required to inform me of it1 which he did4 ,this1 ,i must confess1 was one of the critical moments of my life4 ,how much did it cost me to do my duty6 ,my preceding engagements1 the necessity of showing a due respect for the goodness of the ,king1 and for that of his minister1 together with the desire of displaying how far ,i was sensible of both2 add to these the advantage of being made a little more easy in circumstances in the decline of life1 surrounded as ,i was by enemies and evils2 in fine1 the embarrassment ,i was under to find a decent excuse for not accepting a benefit already half accepted2 all these together made the necessity of that refusal very difficult and cruel3 for necessary it was1 or ,i should have been one of the meanest and basest of mankind to have voluntarily laid myself under an obligation to a man who had betrayed me4 ,i did my duty1 though not without reluctance4 ,i wrote immediately to ,general ,conway1 and in the most civil and respectful manner possible1 without giving an absolute refusal1 excusing myself from accepting the pension for the present4 ,now1 ,mr ,hume had been the only negociator of this affair1 nay the only person who had spoke of it4 ,yet ,i not only did not give him any answer1 though it was he who wrote to me on the subject1 but did not even so much as mention him in my letter to ,general ,conway4 ,this was the third slap of the face ,i gave my patron1 which if he does not feel1 it is certainly his own fault1 he can feel nothing4 ,my letter was not clear1 nor could it be so to ,general ,conway1 who did not know the motives of my refusal2 but it was very plain to ,mr ,hume1 who knew them but too well4 ,he pretended nevertheless to be deceived as well with regard to the cause of my discontent1 as to that of my declining the pension2 and1 in a letter he wrote me on the occasion1 gave me to understand that the ,king's goodness might be continued towards me1 if ,i should reconsider the affair of the pension4 ,in a word1 he seemed determined1 at all events1 to remain still my patron1 in spite of my teeth4 ,you will imagine1 ,sir1 he did not expect my answer2 and he had none4 ,much about this time1 for ,i do not know exactly the date1 nor is such precision necessary1 appeared a letter1 from ,mr de ,voltaire to me1 with an ,english translation1 which still improved on the original4 ,the noble object of this ingenious performance1 was to draw on me the hatred and contempt of the people1 among whom ,i was come to reside4 ,i made not the least doubt that my dear patron was one of the instruments of its publication2 particularly when ,i saw that the writer1 in endeavouring to alienate from me those who might render my life agreeable1 had omitted the name of him who brought me over4 ,he doubtless knew that it was superfluous1 and that with regard to him1 nothing more was necessary to be said4 ,the omission of his name1 so impoliticly forgot in this letter1 recalled to my mind what ,tacitus says of the picture of ,brutus1 omitted in a funeral solemnity1 viz4 that every body took notice of it1 particularly because it was not there4 ,mr ,hume was not mentioned2 but he lives and converses with people that are mentioned4 ,it is well known his friends are all my enemies2 there are abroad such people as ,tronchin1 d',alembert1 and ,voltaire2#cc but it is much worse in ,london2 for here ,i have no enemies but what are his friends4 ,for why1 indeed1 should ,i have any other8 ,why should ,i have even them8#cd ,what have ,i done to ,lord ,littleton1#ce whom ,i don't even know8 ,what have ,i done to ,mr ,walpole1 whom ,i know full as little8 ,what do they know of me1 except that ,i am unhappy1 and a friend to their friend ,hume8 ,what can he have said to them1 for it is only through him they know any thing of me8 ,i can very well imagine1 that1 considering the part he has to play1 he does not unmask himself to every body2 for then he would be disguised to nobody4 ,i can very well imagine that he does not speak of me to ,general ,conway and the ,duke of ,richmond as he does in his private conversations with ,mr ,walpole1 and his secret correspondence with ,mr d',alembert4 ,but let any one discover the clue that hath been unravelled since my arrival in ,london1 and it will easily be seen whether ,mr ,hume does not hold the principal thread4 ,at length the moment arrived in which it was thought proper to strike the great blow1 the effect of which was prepared for by a fresh satirical piece put in the papers4#cf ,had there remained in me the least doubt1 it would have been impossible to have harboured it after perusing this piece1 as it contained facts unknown to any body but ,mr ,hume2 exaggerated1 it is true1 in order to render them odious to the public4 ,it is said in this paper that my door was opened to the rich1 and shut to the poor4 ,pray1 who knows when my door was open or shut1 except ,mr ,hume1 with whom ,i lived1 and by whom every body was introduced that ,i saw8 ,i will except one great personage1 whom ,i gladly received without knowing him1 and whom ,i should still have more gladly received if ,i had known him4 ,it was ,mr ,hume who told me his name when he was gone2 on which information1 ,i was really chagrined1 that1 as he deigned to mount up two pair of stairs1 he was not received in the first floor4 ,as to the poor1 ,i have nothing to say about the matter4 ,i was constantly desirous of seeing less company2 but as ,i was unwilling to displease any one1 ,i suffered myself to be directed in this affair altogether by ,mr ,hume1 and endeavoured to receive every body he introduced as well as ,i could1 without distinction1 whether rich or poor4 ,it is said in the same piece that ,i received my relations very coldly1 not to say any thing worse4 ,this general charge relates to my having once received1 with some indifference1 the only relation ,i have1 out of ,geneva1 and that in the presence of ,mr ,hume4#cg ,it must necessarily be either ,mr ,hume or this relation who furnished that piece of intelligence4 ,now1 my cousin1 whom ,i have always known for a friendly relation and a worthy man1 is incapable of furnishing materials for public satires against me4 ,add to this1 that his situation in life confining him to the conversation of persons in trade1 he has no connection with men of letters or paragraph writers1 and still less with satirists and libellers2 so that the article could not come from him4 ,at the worst1 can ,i help imagining that ,mr ,hume must have endeavoured to take advantage of what he said1 and construed it in favour of his own purpose8 ,it is not improper to add1 that1 after my rupture with ,mr ,hume1 ,i wrote an account of it to my cousin4 ,in fine1 it is said in the same paper that ,i am apt to change my friends4 ,no great subtlety is necessary to comprehend what this reflection is preparative to4 ,but let us distinguish facts4 ,i have preserved some very valuable and solid friends for twenty-five to thirty years4 ,i have others whose friendship is of a later date1 but no less valuable1 and which1 if ,i live1 ,i may preserve still longer4 ,i have not found1 indeed1 the same security in general among those friendships ,i have made with men of letters4 ,i have for this reason sometimes changed them1 and shall always change them when they appear suspicious2 for ,i am determined never to have friends by way of ceremony2 ,i have them only with a view to show them my affection4 ,if ever ,i was fully and clearly convinced of any thing1 ,i am so convinced that ,mr ,hume furnished the materials for the above paper4 ,but what is still more1 ,i have not only that absolute conviction1 but it is very clear to me that ,mr ,hume intended ,i should3 ,for how can it be supposed that a man of his subtlety should be so imprudent as to expose himself thus1 if he had not intended it8 ,what was his design in it8 ,nothing is more clear than this4 ,it was to raise my resentment to the highest pitch1 that he might strike the blow he was preparing to give me with greater eclat4 ,he knew he had nothing more to do than put me in a passion1 and ,i should be guilty of a number of absurdities4 ,we are now arrived at the critical moment which is to show whether he reasoned well or ill4 ,it is necessary to have all the presence of mind1 all the phlegm and resolution of ,mr ,hume1 to be able to take the part he hath taken1 after all that has passed between us4 ,in the embarrassment ,i was under in writing to ,general ,conway1 ,i could make use only of obscure expressions1 to which ,mr ,hume1 in quality of my friend1 gave what interpretation he pleased4 ,supposing1 therefore1 for he knew very well to the contrary1 that it was the circumstance of secrecy which gave me uneasiness1 he obtained the promise of the ,general to endeavour to remove it2 but before any thing was done1 it was previously necessary to know whether ,i would accept of the pension without that condition1 in order not to expose his ,majesty to a second refusal4 ,this was the decisive moment1 the end and object of all his labours4 ,an answer was required3 he would have it4 ,to prevent effectually indeed my neglect of it1 he sent to ,mr ,davenport a duplicate of his letter to me2 and1 not content with this precaution1 wrote me word1 in another billet1 that he could not possibly stay any longer in ,london to serve me4 ,i was giddy with amazement on reading this note4 ,never in my life did ,i meet with any thing so unaccountable4 ,at length he obtained from me the so much desired answer1 and began presently to triumph4 ,in writing to ,mr ,davenport1 he treated me as a monster of brutality and ingratitude4 ,but he wanted to do still more4 ,he thinks his measures well taken2 no proof can be made to appear against him4 ,he demands an explanation3 he shall have it1 and here it is4 ,that last stroke was a masterpiece4 ,he himself proves every thing1 and that beyond reply4 ,i will suppose1 though by way of impossibility1 that my complaints against ,mr ,hume never reached his ears2 that he knew nothing of them2 but was as perfectly ignorant as if he had held no cabal with those who are acquainted with them1 but had resided all the while in ,china4#ch ,yet the behaviour passing directly between us2 the last striking words which ,i said to him in ,london2 the letter which followed replete with fears and anxiety2 my persevering silence still more expressive than words2 my public and bitter complaints with regard to the letter of ,mr d',alembert2 my letter to the ,secretary of ,state1 who did not write to me1 in answer to that which ,mr ,hume wrote to me himself1 and in which ,i did not mention him2 and in fine my refusal1 without deigning to address myself to him1 to acquiesce in an affair which he had managed in my favour1 with my own privity1 and without any opposition on my part2 all this must have spoken in a very forcible manner1 ,i will not say to any person of the least sensibility1 but to every man of common sense4 ,strange that1 after ,i had ceased to correspond with him for three months1 when ,i had made no answer to any one of his letters1 however important the subject of it1 surrounded with both public and private marks of that affliction which his infidelity gave me2 a man of so enlightened an understanding1 of so penetrating a genius by nature1 and so dull by design1 should see nothing1 hear nothing1 feel nothing1 be moved at nothing2 but1 without one word of complaint1 justification1 or explanation1 continue to give me the most pressing marks of his good will to serve me1 in spite of myself8 ,he wrote to me affectionately1 that he could not stay any longer in ,london to do me service1 as if we had agreed that he should stay there for that purpose6 ,this blindness1 this insensibility1 this perseverance1 are not in nature2 they must be accounted for1 therefore1 from other motives4 ,let us set this behaviour in a still clearer light2 for this is the decisive point4 ,mr ,hume must necessarily have acted in this affair1 either as one of the first or last of mankind4 ,there is no medium4 ,it remains to determine which of the two it hath been4 ,could ,mr ,hume1 after so many instances of disdain on my part1 have still the astonishing generosity as to persevere sincerely to serve me8 ,he knew it was impossible for me to accept his good offices1 so long as ,i entertained for him such sentiments as ,i had conceived4 ,he had himself avoided an explanation4 ,so that to serve me without justifying himself1 would have been to render his services useless2 this therefore was no generosity4 ,if he supposed that in such circumstances ,i should have accepted his services1 he must have supposed me to have been an infamous scoundrel4 ,it was then in behalf of a man whom he supposed to be a scoundrel1 that he so warmly solicited a pension from his ,majesty4 ,can any thing be supposed more extravagant8 ,but let it be supposed that ,mr ,hume1 constantly pursuing his plan1 should only have said to himself1 ,this is the moment for its execution2 for1 by pressing ,rousseau to accept the pension1 he will be reduced either to accept or refuse it4 ,if he accepts it1 with the proofs ,i have in hand against him1 ,i shall be able completely to disgrace him3 if he refuses1 after having accepted it1 he will have no pretext1 but must give a reason for such refusal4 ,this is what ,i expect2 if he accuses me1 he is ruined4 ,if1 ,i say1 ,mr ,hume reasoned with himself in this manner1 he did what was consistent with his plan1 and in that case very natural2 indeed this is the only way in which his conduct in this affair can be explained1 for upon any other supposition it is inexplicable3 if this be not demonstrable1 nothing ever was so4 ,the critical situation to which he had now reduced me1 re-recalled strongly to my mind the four words ,i mentioned above2 and which ,i heard him say and repeat1 at a time when ,i did not comprehend their full force4 ,it was the first night after our departure from ,paris4 ,we slept in the same chamber1 when1 during the night1 ,i heard him several times cry out with great vehemence1 in the ,french language1 ,je tiens ,j4 ,j4 ,rousseau4 ',i have you1 ,rousseau4' ,i know not whether he was awake or asleep4#ci ,the expression was remarkable1 coming from a man who is too well acquainted with the ,french language1 to be mistaken with regard to the force or choice of words4 ,i took these words1 however1 and ,i could not then take them otherwise than in a favourable sense3 notwithstanding the tone of voice in which they were spoken1 was still less favourable than the expression4 ,it is indeed impossible for me to give any idea of it2 but it corresponds exactly with those terrible looks ,i have before mentioned4 ,at every repetition of them ,i was seized with a shuddering1 a kind of horror ,i could not resist1 though a moment's recollection restored me1 and made me smile at my terror4 ,the next day all this was so perfectly obliterated1 that ,i did not even think of it during my stay in ,london1 and its neighbourhood4 ,it was not till my arrival in this place1 that so many things have contributed to recall these words to my mind2 and indeed recall them every moment4 ,these words1 the tone of which dwells on my heart1 as if ,i had but just heard them2 those long and fatal looks so frequently cast on me2 the patting me on the back1 with the repetition of ,o1 my dear ,sir1 in answer to my suspicions of his being a traitor3 all this affects me to such a degree1 after what preceded1 that this recollection1 had ,i no other1 would be sufficient to prevent any reconciliation or return of confidence between us2 not a night indeed passes over my head1 but ,i think ,i hear1 ,rousseau1 ,i have you1 ring in my ears as if he had just pronounced them4 ,yes1 ,mr ,hume1 ,i know you have me2 but that only by mere externals3 you have me in the public opinion and judgment of mankind4 ,you have my reputation1 and perhaps my security1 to do with as you will4 ,the general prepossession is in your favour2 it will be very easy for you to make me pass for the monster you have begun to represent me2 and ,i already see the barbarous exultation of my implacable enemies4 ,the public will no longer spare me4 ,without any farther examination1 every body is on the side of those who have conferred favours2 because each is desirous to attract the same good offices1 by displaying a sensibility of the obligation4 ,i foresee readily the consequences of all this1 particularly in the country to which you have conducted me2 and where1 being without friends1 and an utter stranger to every body1 ,i lie almost entirely at your mercy4 ,the sensible part of mankind1 however1 will comprehend that ,i must be so far from seeking this affair1 that nothing more disagreeable or terrible could possibly have happened to me in my present situation4 ,they will perceive that nothing but my invincible aversion to all kind of falsehood1 and the possibility of my professing a regard for a person who had forfeited it1 could have prevented my dissimulation1 at a time when it was on so many accounts my interest4 ,but the sensible part of mankind are few1 nor do they make the greatest noise in the world4 ,yes1 ,mr ,hume1 you have me by all the ties of this life2 but you have no power over my probity or my fortitude1 which1 being independent either of you or of mankind1 ,i will preserve in spite of you4 ,think not to frighten me with the fortune that awaits me4 ,i know the opinions of mankind2 ,i am accustomed to their injustice1 and have learned to care little about it4 ,if you have taken your resolution1 as ,i have reason to believe you have1 be assured mine is taken also4 ,i am feeble indeed in body1 but never possessed greater strength of mind4 ,mankind may say and do what they will1 it is of little consequence to me4 ,what is of consequence1 however1 is1 that ,i should end as ,i have begun2 that ,i should continue to preserve my ingenuousness and integrity to the end1 whatever may happen2 and that ,i should have no cause to reproach myself either with meanness in adversity1 or insolence in prosperity4 ,whatever disgrace attends1 or misfortune threatens me1 ,i am ready to meet them4 ,though ,i am to be pitied1 ,i am much less so than you1 and all the revenge ,i shall take on you is1 to leave you the tormenting consciousness of being obliged1 in spite of yourself1 to have a respect for the unfortunate person you have oppressed4 ,in closing this letter1 ,i am surprised at my having been able to write it4 ,if it were possible to die with grief1 every line was sufficient to kill me with sorrow4 ,every circumstance of the affair is equally incomprehensible4 ,such conduct as yours hath been1 is not in nature3 it is contradictory to itself1 and yet it is demonstrable to me that it has been such as ,i conceive4 ,on each side of me there is a bottomless abyss6 and ,i am lost in one or the other4 ,if you are guilty1 ,i am the most unfortunate of mankind2 if you are innocent1 ,i am the most culpable4#dj ,you even make me desire to be that contemptible object4 ,yes1 the situation to which you see me reduced1 prostrate at your feet1 crying out for mercy1 and doing every thing to obtain it2 publishing aloud my own unworthiness1 and paying the most explicit homage to your virtues1 would be a state of joy and cordial effusion1 after the grievous state of restraint and mortification into which you have plunged me4 ,i have but a word more to say4 ,if you are guilty1 write to me no more2 it would be superfluous1 for certainly you could not deceive me4 ,if you are innocent1 justify yourself4 ,i know my duty2 ,i love1 and shall always love it1 however difficult and severe4 ,there is no state of abjection that a heart1 not formed for it1 may not recover from4 ,once again1 ,i say1 if you are innocent1 deign to justify yourself2 if you are not1 adieu for ever4 ,j4 ,j4 ,r4 #e ,the fact was this4 ,my friend1 ,mr ,ramsay1 a painter of eminence1 and a man of merit1 proposed to draw ,mr ,rousseau's picture2 and when he had begun it1 told me he intended to make me a present of it4 ,thus the design of having ,mr ,rousseau's picture drawn did not come from me1 nor did it cost me any thing4 ,mr ,rousseau1 therefore1 is equally contemptible in paying me a compliment for this pretended gallantry1 in his letter of the #bith ,march1 and in converting it into ridicule here4--,mr ,,hume4 #f ,mr ,rousseau forms a wrong judgment of me1 and ought to know me better4 ,i have written to ,mr ,davenport1 even since our rupture1 to engage him to continue his kindness to his unhappy guest4--,mr ,,hume4 #g ,how strange are the effects of a disordered imagination6 ,mr ,rousseau tells us he is ignorant of what passes in the world1 and yet talks of the enemies he has in ,england4 ,how does he know this8 ,where did he see them8 ,he hath received nothing but marks of beneficence and hospitality4 ,mr ,walpole is the only person who hath thrown out a little piece of raillery against him2 but is not therefore his enemy4 ,if ,mr ,rousseau could have seen things exactly as they are1 he would have seen that he had no other friend in ,england but me1 and no other enemy but himself4--,mr ,,hume4 #h ,that a general outcry should prevail against ,mr ,rousseau's persecutors in ,england1 is no wonder4 ,such an outcry would have prevailed from sentiments of humanity1 had he been a person of much less note2 so that this is no proof of his being esteemed4 ,and as to the encomiums on him inserted in the public newspapers1 the value of such kind of puffs is well known in ,england4 ,i have already observed1 that the authors of more respectable works were at no loss what to think of ,mr ,rousseau1 but had formed a proper judgment of him long before his arrival in ,england4 ,the genius which displayed itself in his writings did by no means blind the eyes of the more sensible part of mankind to the absurdity and inconsistency of his opinions and conduct4 ,in exclaiming against ,mr ,rousseau's fanatical persecutors1 they did not think him the more possessed of the true spirit of martyrdom4 ,the general opinion indeed was1 that he had too much philosophy to be very devout1 and had too much devotion to have much philosophy4--,english ,translator4 #i ,mr ,rousseau knows very little of the public judgment in ,england1 if he thinks it is to be influenced by any story told in a certain ,magazine4 ,but1 as ,i have before said1 it was not from this time that ,mr ,rousseau was slightingly spoke of1 but long before1 and that in a more consequential manner4 ,perhaps1 indeed1 ,mr ,rousseau ought in justice to impute great part of those civilities he met with on his arrival1 rather to vanity and curiosity than to respect and esteem4--,english ,translator4 #aj ,so then ,i find ,i am to answer for every article of every ,magazine and newspaper printed in ,england4 ,i assure ,mr ,rousseau ,i would rather answer for every robbery committed on the highway2 and ,i am entirely as innocent of the one as the other4--,mr ,,hume4 #aa ,this relates to my friend ,mr ,john ,stewart1 who entertained ,mr ,rousseau at his house1 and did him all the good offices in his power4 ,mr ,rousseau1 in complaining of this gentleman's behaviour1 forgets that he wrote ,mr ,stewart a letter from ,wooton1 full of acknowledgments1 and just expressions of gratitude4 ,what ,mr ,rousseau adds1 regarding the brother of ,mr ,stewart1 is neither civil nor true--,mr ,,hume4 #ab ,i shall mention only one1 that made me smile2 this was1 his attention to have1 every time ,i came to see him1 a volume of ,eloisa upon his table2 as if ,i did not know enough of ,mr ,hume's taste for reading1 as to be well assured1 that of all books in the world1 ,eloisa must be one of the most tiresome to him4--,mr ,,rousseau4 #ac ,the reader may judge from the two first letters of ,mr ,rousseau1 which ,i published with that view1 on which side the flatteries commenced4 ,as for the rest1 ,i loved and esteemed ,mr ,rousseau1 and took a pleasure in giving him to understand so4 ,i might perhaps be too lavish in my praises2 but ,i can assure the reader he never once complained of it4--,mr ,,hume4 #ad ,i don't recollect a single circumstance of this history2 but what makes me give very little credit to it1 is1 that ,i remember very well we had settled two different days for the purposes mentioned1 that is1 one to go to the ,museum1 and another to the play4--,mr ,,hume4 #ae ,i conceive ,mr ,rousseau hints here at two or three dinners1 that were sent him from the house of ,mr ,stewart1 when he chose to dine at his own lodgings2 this was not done1 however1 to save him the expense of a meal1 but because there was no convenient tavern or chop-house in the neighbourhood4 ,i beg the reader's pardon for descending to such trivial particulars4--,mr ,,hume4 #af ,we have not been authorized to suppress this affronting term2 but it is too gross and groundless to do any injury to the celebrated and respectable physician to whose name it is annexed4--,french ,editors4 #ag ,thus am ,i accused of treachery1 because ,i am a friend of ,mr ,walpole1 who hath thrown out a little raillery on ,mr ,rousseau1 and because the son of a man whom ,mr ,rousseau does not like lodges by accident in the same house2 because my landladies1 who do not understand a syllable of ,french1 received ,mr ,rousseau coldly4 ,as to the rest1 all that ,i said to ,mr ,rousseau about the young ,tronchin was1 that he had not the same prejudices against him as his father4--,mr ,,hume4 #ah ,the story of ,mr ,rousseau's letters is as follows4 ,he had often been complaining to me1 and with reason1 that he was ruined by postage at ,neufchtel1 which commonly cost him about #be or #bf louis d'ors a year1 and all for letters which were of no significance1 being wrote1 some of them by people who took that opportunity of abusing him1 and most of them by persons unknown to him4 ,he was therefore resolved1 he said1 in ,england to receive no letters which came by the post2 and the same resolution he reiterates in his letter to me dated the #bb;d of ,march4 ,when he went to ,chiswick1 near ,london1 the postman brought his letters to me4 ,i carried him out a cargo of them4 ,he exclaimed1 desired me to return the letters1 and recover the price of postage4 ,i told him1 that1 in that case1 the clerks of the ,post ,office were entire masters of his letters4 ,he said he was indifferent3 they might do with them what they pleased4 ,i added1 that he would by that means be cut off from all correspondence with all his friends4 ,he replied1 that he would give a particular direction to such as he desired to correspond with4 ,but till his instructions for that purpose could arrive1 what could ,i do more friendly than to save1 at my own expense1 his letters from the curiosity and indiscretion of the clerks of the ,post ,office8 ,i am indeed ashamed to find myself obliged to discover such petty circumstances4---,mr ,,hume4 #ai ,it is necessary to explain this circumstance4 ,i had been writing on ,mr ,hume's table1 during his absence1 an answer to a letter ,i had just received4 ,he came in1 very anxious to know what ,i had been writing1 and hardly able to contain himself from desiring to read it4 ,i closed my letter1 however1 without showing it him2 when1 as ,i was putting it into my pocket1 he asked me for it eagerly1 saying he would send it away on the morrow1 being post-day4 ,the letter lay on the table4 ,lord ,newnham came in4 ,mr ,hume went out of the room for a moment1 on which ,i took the letter up again1 saying ,i should find time to send it the next day4 ,lord ,newnham offered to get it inclosed in the ,french ambassador's packet1 which ,i accepted4 ,mr ,hume re-entered the moment his ,lordship had inclosed it1 and was pulling out his seal4 ,mr ,hume officiously offered his own seal1 and that with so much earnestness1 that it could not well be refused4 ,the bell was rung1 and ,lord ,newnham gave the letter to ,mr ,hume's servant1 to give it to his own1 who waited below with the chariot1 in order to have it sent to the ambassador4 ,mr ,hume's servant was hardly got out of the room1 but ,i said to myself1 ,i'll lay a wager the master follows4 ,he did not fail to do as ,i expected4 ,not knowing how to leave ,lord ,newnham alone1 ,i staid some time before ,i followed ,mr ,hume4 ,i said nothing2 but he must perceive that ,i was uneasy4 ,thus1 although ,i have received no answer to my letter1 ,i doubt not of its going to hand2 but ,i confess1 ,i cannot help suspecting it was read first4--,mr ,,rousseau4 #bj ,it appears from what he wrote to me afterwards1 that he was very well satisfied with this letter1 and that he thought of it very well4--,mr ,,rousseau4 #ba ,my answer to this is contained in ,mr ,rousseau's own letter of the #bb;d of ,march2 wherein he expresses himself with the utmost cordiality1 without any reserve1 and without the least appearance of suspicion4--,mr ,,hume4 #bb ,all this hangs upon the fable he had so artfully worked up1 as ,i before observed4--,mr ,,hume4 #bc ,i had only one such opportunity with his governante1 which was on their arrival in ,london4 ,i must own it never entered into my head to talk to her upon any other subject than the concerns of ,mr ,rousseau4--,mr ,,hume4 #bd ,see ,mr d',alembert's declaration on this head1 annexed to this narrative4 #be ,mr ,rousseau declares himself to have been fatigued with the visits he received2 ought he therefore to complain that ,mr d',alembert1 whom he did not like1 did not importune him with his8--,mr ,,hume4 #bf ,this false friend is1 undoubtedly1 myself4 ,but what is the treachery8 ,what harm have ,i done1 or could ,i do to ,mr ,rousseau8 ,on the supposition of my entering into a project to ruin him1 how could ,i think to bring it about by the services ,i did him8 ,if ,mr ,rousseau should gain credit1 ,i must be thought still more weak than wicked4--,mr ,,hume4 #bg ,the booksellers have lately informed me that the edition is finished1 and will shortly be published4 ,this may be2 but it is too late1 and what is still worse1 it is too opportune for the purpose intended to be served4--,mr ,,rousseau4 #bh ,it is about four months since ,mr ,becket1 the bookseller1 told ,mr ,rousseau that the publication of these pieces was delayed on account of the indisposition of the translator4 ,as for any thing else1 ,i never promised to take any charge at all of the edition1 as ,mr ,becket can testify4--,mr ,,hume4 #bi ,as to ,mr ,rousseau's suspicions of the cause of the suppression1 as he calls it1 of the ,narrative and ,letters above mentioned1 the translator thinks it incumbent on him to affirm1 that they were entirely groundless4 ,it is true1 as ,mr ,becket told ,mr ,hume1 that the translator of the letters was indisposed about that time4 ,but the principal cause of the delay was1 that he was of his own mere motion1 no less indisposed to those pieces making their appearance in ,english at all27997 and this not out of ill will to ,mr ,rousseau1 or good will to ,mr ,hume1 neither of which he ever saw1 or spoke to1 in his life2 but really out of regard to the character and reputation of a man1 whose genius he admired1 and whose works he had translated3 well knowing the publication of such squabbles could do ,mr ,rousseau no good in the opinion of the more judicious and sensible part of mankind4 ,with regard to the translation of the narrative of his manner of living at ,montmorency1 ,i never saw it till it was actually printed1 when ,mr ,becket put it into my hands1 and ,i frankly told him that ,i thought it a very unseasonable1 puerile affair1 and could by no means serve to advance ,mr ,rousseau's estimation in the eyes of the public4 ,it was certainly of great importance to the good people of ,england1 to know how ,mr ,rousseau amused himself seven or eight years ago at ,montmorency1 that he cooked his own broth1 and did not leave it to the management of his nurse1 for fear she should have a better dinner than himself6 ,yet this is one of the most remarkable circumstances contained in that narrative1 except indeed that we are told1 ,mr ,rousseau is a most passionate admirer of virtue1 and that his eyes always sparkle at the bare mention of that word4--,o ,virtue6 how greatly is thy name prostituted6 ,and how fair1 from the teeth outward1 are thy nominal votaries6--,english ,translator4 7997 ,for1 so far were the booksellers from intending to suppress these pieces1 that they actually reprinted the ,french edition of ,peyrou's ,letters1 and published it in ,london4 #cj ,no body could possibly be mistaken with regard to the letter's being fictitious2 besides it was well known that ,mr ,walpole was the author of it--,mr ,,hume4 #ca ,mr ,rousseau forgets himself here4 ,it was but a week before that he wrote me a very friendly letter4 ,see his letter of the #bith of ,march4--,mr ,,hume4 #cb ,i know nothing of this pretended libel4--,mr ,,hume4 #cc ,i have never been so happy as to meet with ,mr de ,voltaire2 he only did me the honour to write me a letter about three years ago4 ,as to ,mr ,tronchin1 ,i never saw him in my life1 nor ever had any correspondence with him4 ,of ,mr d',alembert's friendship1 indeed1 ,i am proud to make a boast4--,mr ,,hume4 #cd ,why indeed8 except that sensible people in ,england are averse to affectation and quackery4 ,those who see and despise these most in ,mr ,rousseau1 are not1 however1 his enemies2 perhaps1 if he could be brought to think so1 they are his best and truest friends4--,english ,translator4 #ce ,mr ,rousseau1 seeing the letter addressed to him in the name of ,voltaire advertised in the public papers1 wrote to ,mr ,davenport1 who was then in ,london1 to desire he would bring it him4 ,i told ,mr ,davenport that the printed copy was very faulty1 but that ,i would ask of ,lord ,littleton a manuscript copy1 which was correct4 ,this is sufficient to make ,mr ,rousseau conclude that ,lord ,littleton is his mortal enemy1 and my intimate friend2 and that we are in a conspiracy against him4 ,he ought rather to have concluded1 that the printed copy could not come from me1--,mr ,,hume4 ,the piece above mentioned was shown to the ,translator before its publication1 and many absurd liberties taken with the original pointed out and censured4 ,at which time there did not appear1 from the parties concerned in it1 that ,mr ,hume could have the least hand in1 or could have known any thing of the edition4--,english ,translator4 #cf ,i have never seen this piece1 neither before nor after its publication2 nor has it come to the knowledge of any body to whom ,i have spoken of it--,mr ,,hume4 ,the translator1 who has been attentive to every thing that has come out from1 or about ,mr ,rousseau1 knows also nothing of this piece4 ,why did not ,mr ,rousseau mention particularly in what paper1 and when it appeared8--,english ,translator4 #cg ,i was not present when ,mr ,rousseau received his cousin4 ,i only just saw them afterwards together for about a minute on the terrace in ,buckingham ,street4--,mr ,,hume4 #ch ,how was it possible for me to guess at such chimerical suspicions8 ,mr ,davenport1 the only person of my acquaintance who then saw ,mr ,rousseau1 assures me that he was perfectly ignorant of them himself4--,mr ,,hume4 #ci ,i cannot answer for every thing ,i may say in my sleep1 and much less am ,i conscious whether or not ,i dream in ,french4 ,but pray1 as ,mr ,rousseau did not know whether ,i was asleep or awake when ,i pronounced those terrible words1 with such a terrible voice1 how is he certain that he himself was well awake when he heard them8--,mr ,,hume4 #dj ,and does it depend on an if1 after all ,mr ,r's positive conviction1 and absolute demonstrations8--,english ,translator4 ,i hesitated some time whether ,i should make any reply to this strange memorial4 ,at length ,i determined to write ,mr ,rousseau the following letter4 ,,mr ,,hume ,,to ,,mr ,,rousseau4 ,lisle-street1 ,leicester-fields1 ,july #bb;d1 #agff4 ,,sir1 ,i shall only answer one article of your long letter3 it is that which regards the conversation between us the evening before your departure4 ,mr ,davenport had imagined a good natured artifice1 to make you believe that a retour chaise had offered for ,wooton2 and ,i believe he made an advertisement be put in the papers1 in order the better to deceive you4 ,his purpose was only to save you some expenses in the journey1 which ,i thought a laudable project2 though ,i had no hand either in contriving or conducting it4 ,you entertained1 how ever1 suspicions of his design1 while we were sitting alone by my fire-side2 and you reproached me with concurring in it4 ,i endeavoured to pacify you1 and to divert the discourse2 but to no purpose4 ,you sat sullen1 and was either silent1 or made me very peevish answers4 ,at last you rose up1 and took a turn or two about the room2 when all of a sudden1 and to my great surprise1 you clapped yourself on my knee1 threw your arms about my neck1 kissed me with seeming ardour1 and bedewed my face with tears4 ,you exclaimed1 ',my dear friend1 can you ever pardon this folly6 ,after all the pains you have taken to serve me1 after the numberless instances of friendship you have given me1 here ,i reward you with this ill humour and sullenness4 ,but your forgiveness of me will be a new instance of your friendship2 and ,i hope you will find at bottom1 that my heart is not unworthy of it4' ,i was very much affected1 ,i own2 and ,i believe1 there passed a very tender scene between us4 ,you added1 by way of compliment1 that though ,i had many better titles to recommend me to posterity1 yet perhaps my uncommon attachment and friendship to a poor unhappy persecuted man1 would not altogether be overlooked4 ,this incident1 ,sir1 was somewhat remarkable2 and it is impossible that either you or ,i could so soon have forgot it4 ,but you have had the assurance to tell me the story twice in a manner so different1 or rather so opposite1 that when ,i persist1 as ,i do1 in this account1 it necessarily follows1 that either you or ,i am a liar4 ,you imagine1 perhaps1 that because the incident passed privately without a witness1 the question will lie between the credibility of your assertion and of mine4 ,but you shall not have this advantage or disadvantage1 whichever you are pleased to term it4 ,i shall produce against you other proofs1 which will put the matter beyond controversy4 ,first1 ,you are not aware1 that ,i have a letter under your hand1 which is totally irreconcilable with your account1 and confirms mine4#da ,secondly1 ,i told the story the next day1 or the day after1 to ,mr ,davenport1 with a friendly view of preventing any such good natured artifices for the future4 ,he surely remembers it4 ,thirdly1 ,as ,i thought the story much to your honour1 ,i told it to several of my friends here4 ,i even wrote it to ,mde4 de ,boufflers at ,paris4 ,i believe no one will imagine1 that ,i was preparing beforehand an apology1 in case of a rupture with you2 which1 of all human events1 ,i should then have thought the most incredible1 especially as we were separated almost for ever1 and ,i still continued to render you the most essential services4 ,fourthly1 ,the story1 as ,i tell it1 is consistent and rational3 there is not common sense in your account4 ,what6 because sometimes1 when absent in thought1 ,i have a fixed look or stare1 you suspect me to be a traitor1 and you have the assurance to tell me of such black and ridiculous suspicions6 ,are not most studious men 7and many of them more than ,i7 subject to such reveries or fits of absence1 without being exposed to such suspicions8 ,you do not even pretend that1 before you left ,london1 you had any other solid grounds of suspicion against me4 ,i shall enter into no detail with regard to your letter3 the other articles of it are as much without foundation as you yourself know this to be4 ,i shall only add1 in general1 that ,i enjoyed about a month ago an uncommon pleasure1 when ,i reflected1 that through many difficulties1 and by most assiduous care and pains1 ,i had1 beyond my most sanguine expectations1 provided for your repose1 honour and fortune4 ,but ,i soon felt a very sensible uneasiness when ,i found that you had wantonly and voluntarily thrown away all these advantages1 and was become the declared enemy of your repose1 fortune1 and honour3 ,i cannot be surprised after this that you are my enemy4 ,adieu1 and for ever4 ,i am1 ,sir1 yours1 ,d4 ,h4 #da ,that of the #bb;d of ,march1 which is entirely cordial2 and proves that ,mr ,rousseau had never1 till that moment1 entertained1 or at least discovered the smallest suspicion against me4 ,there is also in the same letter1 a peevish passage about the hire of a chaise4--,mr ,,hume4 ,to all these papers1 ,i need only subjoin the following letter of ,mr ,walpole to me1 which proves how ignorant and innocent ,i am of the whole matter of the ,king of ,prussia's letter4 ,,mr ,,walpole ,,to ,,mr ,,hume4 ,arlington ,street1 ,july #bfth1 #agff4 ,i cannot be precise as to the time of my writing the ,king of ,prussia's letter1 but ,i do assure you1 with the utmost truth1 that it was several days before you left ,paris1 and before ,rousseau's arrival there1 of which ,i can give you a strong proof2 for ,i not only suppressed the letter while you staid there1 out of delicacy to you1 but it was the reason why1 out of delicacy to myself1 ,i did not go to see him1 as you often proposed to me2 thinking it wrong to go and make a cordial visit to a man1 with a letter in my pocket to laugh at him4 ,you are at full liberty1 dear ,sir1 to make use of what ,i say in your justification1 either to ,rousseau or any body else4 ,i should be very sorry to have you blamed on my account3 ,i have a hearty contempt of ,rousseau1 and am perfectly indifferent what any body thinks of the matter4 ,if there is any fault1 which ,i am far from thinking1 let it lie on me4 ,no parts can hinder my laughing at their possessor1 if he is a mountebank4 ,if he has a bad and most ungrateful heart1 as ,rousseau has shown in your case1 into the bargain1 he will have my scorn likewise1 as he will of all good and sensible men4 ,you may trust your sentence to such1 who are as respectable judges as any that have pored over ten thousand more volumes4 ,yours most sincerely1 ,h4 ,w4 ,thus ,i have given a narrative1 as concise as possible1 of this extraordinary affair1 which ,i am told has very much attracted the attention of the public1 and which contains more unexpected incidents than any other in which ,i was ever engaged4 ,the persons to whom ,i have shown the original papers which authenticate the whole1 have differed very much in their opinion1 as well of the use ,i ought to make of them as of ,mr ,rousseau's present sentiments and state of mind4 ,some of them have maintained that he is altogether insincere in his quarrel with me1 and his opinion of my guilt1 and that the whole proceeds from that excessive pride which forms the basis of his character1 and which leads him both to seek the eclat of refusing the ,king of ,england's bounty1 and to shake off the intolerable burthen of an obligation to me1 by every sacrifice of honour1 truth1 and friendship1 as well as of interest4 ,they found their sentiments on the absurdity of that first supposition on which he grounds his anger1 viz4 that ,mr ,walpole's letter1 which he knew had been every where dispersed both in ,paris and ,london1 was given to the press by me2 and as this supposition is contrary to common sense on the one hand1 and not supported even by the pretence of the slightest probability on the other1 they conclude1 that it never had any weight even with the person himself who lays hold of it4 ,they confirm their sentiments by the number of fictions and lies which he employs to justify his anger2 fictions with regard to points in which it is impossible for him to be mistaken4 ,they also remark his real cheerfulness and gaiety1 amidst the deep melancholy with which he pretended to be oppressed2 not to mention the absurd reasoning which runs through the whole1 and on which it is impossible for any man to rest his conviction4 ,and though a very important interest is here abandoned1 yet money is not universally the chief object with mankind3 vanity weighs farther with some men1 particularly with this philosopher2 and the very ostentation of refusing a pension from the ,king of ,england--an ostentation which1 with regard to other ,princes1 he has often sought--might be of itself a sufficient motive for his present conduct4 ,there are others of my friends who regard this whole affair in a more compassionate light1 and consider ,mr ,rousseau as an object rather of pity than of anger4 ,they suppose the same domineering pride and ingratitude to be the basis of his character2 but they are also willing to believe that his brain has received a sensible shock1 and that his judgment1 set afloat1 is carried to every side1 as it is pushed by the current of his humours and of his passions4 ,the absurdity of his belief is no proof of its insincerity4 ,he imagines himself the sole important being in the universe3 he fancies all mankind to be in a combination against him3 his greatest benefactor1 as hurting him most1 is the chief object of his animosity3 and though he supports all his whimsies by lies and fictions1 this is so frequent a case with wicked men1 who are in that middle state between sober reason and total frenzy1 that it needs give no surprise to any body4 ,i own that ,i am much inclined to this latter opinion2 though1 at the same time1 ,i question whether1 in any period of his life1 ,mr ,rousseau was ever more in his senses than he is at present4 ,the former brilliancy of his genius1 and his great talents for writing1 are no proof of the contrary4 ,it is an old remark1 that great wits are near allied to madness2 and even in those frantic letters which he has wrote to me1 there are evidently strong traces of his wonted genius and eloquence4 ,he has frequently told me that he was composing his memoirs1 in which justice should be done to his own character1 to that of his friends1 and to that of his enemies2 and as ,mr ,davenport informs me1 that1 since his retreat into the country1 he has been much employed in writing1 ,i have reason to conclude that he is at present finishing that undertaking4 ,nothing could be more unexpected to me than my passing so suddenly from the class of his friend to that of his enemies2 but this transition being made1 ,i must expect to be treated accordingly2 and ,i own that this reflection gave me some anxiety4#db ,a work of this nature1 both from the celebrity of the person1 and the strokes of eloquence interspersed1 would certainly attract the attention of the world2 and it might be published either after my death1 or after that of the author4 ,in the former case1 there would be nobody who could tell the story1 or justify my memory4 ,in the latter1 my apology1 wrote in opposition to a dead person1 would lose a great deal of its authenticity4 ,for this reason1 ,i have at present collected the whole story into one ,narrative1 that ,i may show it to my friends1 and at any time have it in my power to make whatever use of it they and ,i should think proper4 ,i am1 and always have been1 such a lover of peace1 that nothing but necessity1 or very forcible reasons1 could have obliged me to give it to the public4 ',perdidi beneficium4 ,numquid qu consecravimus perdidisse nos dicimus8 ,inter consecrata beneficium est2 etiam si male respondit1 bene collatum4 ,non est ille qualem speravimus2 simus nos quales fuimus1 ei dissimiles4' ,,seneca ,,de ,,beneficiis1 ,,lib4 ,,vii4 ,,cap4 #bi4 #db ,in his letter of the #bb;d of ,march1 he flatters me indirectly with the figure ,i am to make in his ,memoirs4 ,in that of the #bc;d of ,june1 he threatens me4 ,these are proofs how much he is in earnest4 ,,declaration ,,of ,,mr ,d',,alembert1 ,,relating ,,to ,,mr ,,walpole',s ,,letter4 7,addressed to the ,french ,editors47 ,it is with the greatest surprise ,i learn1 from ,mr ,hume1 that ,mr ,rousseau accuses me of being the author of the ironical letter addressed to him1 in the public papers1 under the name of the ,king of ,prussia4 ,every body knows1 both at ,paris and ,london1 that such letter was written by ,mr ,walpole2 nor does he disown it4 ,he acknowledges only that he was a little assisted1 in regard to the style1 by a person he does not name1 and whom perhaps he ought to name4 ,as to my part1 on whom the public suspicions have fallen in this affair1 ,i am not at all acquainted with ,mr ,walpole4 ,i don't even believe ,i ever spoke to him2 having only happened to meet once occasionally on a visit4 ,i have not only had not the least to do1 either directly or indirectly1 with the letter in question1 but could mention above a hundred persons1 among the friends as well as enemies of ,mr ,rousseau1 who have heard me greatly disapprove of it2 because1 as ,i said1 we ought not to ridicule the unfortunate1 especially when they do us no harm4 ,besides1 my respect for the ,king of ,prussia1 and the acknowledgments ,i owe him1 might1 ,i should have thought1 have persuaded ,mr ,rousseau that ,i should not have taken such a liberty with the name of that ,prince1 though in pleasantry4 ,to this ,i shall add1 that ,i never was an enemy to ,mr ,rousseau1 either open or secret1 as he pretends2 and ,i defy him to produce the least proof of my having endeavoured to injure him in any shape whatever4 ,i can prove to the contrary1 by the most respectable witnesses1 that ,i have always endeavoured to oblige him1 whenever it lay in my power4 ,as to my pretended secret correspondence with ,mr ,hume1 it is very certain that we did not begin to write to each other till about five or six months after his departure1 on occasion of the quarrel arisen between him and ,mr ,rousseau1 and into which the latter thought proper unnecessarily to introduce me4 ,i thought this declaration necessary for my own sake1 as well as for the sake of truth1 and in regard to the situation of ,mr ,rousseau4 ,i sincerely lament his having so little confidence in the probity of mankind1 and particularly in that of ,mr ,hume4 ,d',,alembert4 ,,scotticisms4 ,will1 in the first person1 as ,i will walk1 we will walk1 expresses the intention or resolution of the person1 along with the future event3 ,in the second and third person1 as1 you will1 he will1 they will1 it expresses the future action or event1 without comprehending or excluding the volition4 ,shall1 in the first person1 whether singular or plural1 expresses the future action or event1 without excluding or comprehending the intention or resolution3 ,but in the second or third person1 it marks a necessity1 and commonly a necessity proceeding from the person who speaks2 as1 he shall walk1 you shall repent it4 ,these variations seem to have proceeded from a politeness in the ,english1 who1 in speaking to others1 or of others1 made use of the term will1 which implies volition1 even where the event may be the subject of necessity and constraint4 ,and in speaking of themselves1 made use of the term shall1 which implies constraint1 even though the event may be the object of choice4 ,wou'd and shou'd are conjunctive moods1 subject to the same rule2 only1 we may observe1 that in a sentence1 where there is a condition exprest1 and a consequence of that condition1 the former always requires shou'd1 and the latter wou'd1 in the second and third persons2 as1 if he shou'd fall1 he wou'd break his leg1 c4 ,these is the plural of this2 those of that4 ,the former1 therefore1 expresses what is near3 the latter1 what is more remote4 ,as1 in these lines of the ,duke of ,buckingham1 ,philosophers and poets vainly strove1 ,in every age1 the lumpish mass to move4 ,but ,,those were pedants if compared with ,,these1 ,who knew not only to instruct1 but please4 ,where a relative is to follow1 and the subject has not been mentioned immediately before1 those is always required4 ,those observations which he made4 ,those kingdoms which ,alexander conquered4 ,in the verbs1 which end in t1 or te1 we frequently omit ed in the preterperfect and in the participle2 as1 he operate1 it was cultivate4 ,milton says1 in thought more elevate2 but he is the only author who uses that expression4 ,notice shou'd not be used as a verb4 ,the proper phrase is take notice4 ,yet ,i find ,lord ,shaftesbury uses notic'd1 the participle3 ,and unnotic'd is very common4 ,hinder to do1 is ,scotch4 ,the ,english phrase is1 hinder from doing4 ,yet ,milton says1 ,hindered not ,satan to pervert the mind4 ,book ,,ix4 ,,scotch4 ,,english4 ,conform to ,conformable to ,friends and acquaintances ,friends and ,acquitance ,maltreat ,abuse ,advert to ,attend to ,proven1 improven1 approven ,prov'd1 improv'd1 approv'd ,pled ,pleaded ,incarcerate ,imprison ,tear to pieces ,tear in pieces ,drunk1 run ,drank1 ran ,fresh weather ,open weather ,tender ,sickly ,in the long run ,at long run ,notwithstanding of that ,notwithstanding that ,contented himself to do ,contented himself with doing ',tis a question if ',tis a question whether ,discretion ,civility ,with child to a man ,with child by a man ,out of hand ,presently ,simply impossible ,absolutely impossible ,a park ,an enclosure ,in time coming ,in time to come ,nothing else ,no other thing ,mind it ,remember it ,denuded ,divested ,severals ,several ,some better ,something better ,anent ,with regard to ,allenarly ,solely ,alongst4 ,yet the ,english say both amid1 amidst1 among1 ,along and amongst ,evenly ,even ,as ,i shall answer ,i protest or declare ,cause him do it4 ,yet 'tis good ,english to say1 make ,cause him to do it him do it ,marry upon ,marry to ,learn ,teach ,there1 where ,thither1 whither ,effectuate4 ,this word in ,english ,effect means to effect with pains and difficulty4 ,a wright4 ,yet 'tis good ,english ,a ,carpenter to say1 a wheelwright ,defunct ,deceast ,evite ,avoid ,part with child ,miscarry ,notour ,notorious ,to want it ,to be without a thing1 even though it be not desirable ,to be difficulted ,to be puzzled ,rebuted ,discouraged by repulses ,for ordinary ,usually ,think shame ,asham'd ,in favours of ,in favour of ,dubiety ,doubtfulness ,prejudge ,hurt ,compete ,enter into competition ,heritable ,hereditary ,to remeed ,to remedy ,bankier ,banker ,adduce a proof ,produce a proof ,superplus ,surplus ,forfaulture ,forfeiture ,in no event ,in no case ,common soldiers ,private men ,big with a man ,great with a man ,bygone ,past ,debitor ,debtor ,exeemed ,exempted ,yesternight ,last night ,big coat ,great coat ,a chimney ,a grate ,annualrent ,interest ,tenible argument ,good argument ,amissing ,missing ,to condescend upon ,to specify ,to discharge ,to forbid ,to extinguish an obligation ,to cancel an obligation ,to depone ,to depose ,a compliment ,a present ,to inquire at a man ,to inquire of a man ,to be angry at a man ,to be angry with a man ,to send an errand ,to send off an errand ,to furnish goods to him ,to furnish him with goods ,to open up ,to open1 or lay open ,thucydide1 ,herodot1 ,sueton1 ,thucydides1 ,herodotus1 ,suetonius ,butter and bread ,bread and ,butter ,pepper and vinegar ,vinegar and pepper ,paper1 pen and ink ,pen1 ink and paper ,readily ,probably ,on a sudden ,of a sudden ,as ever ,i saw ,as ,i ever saw ,for my share ,for my part ,misgive ,fail ,rather chuse to buy as sell ,rather chuse to buy than sell ,deduce ,deduct ,look't over the window ,look't out at the window ,a pretty enough girl ,a pretty girl enough ',tis a week since he left this ',tis a week since he left this place ,come in to the fire ,come near the fire ,to take off a new coat ,to make up a new suit ,alwise ,always ,cut out his hair ,cut off his hair ,cry him ,call him ,to crave ,to dun1 to ask payment ,to get a stomach ,to get an appetite ,vacance ,vacation ,a ,,treatise ,,of ,,human ,,nature4 ,,being ,,an ,,attempt ,,to ,,introduce ,,the ,,experimental ,,method ,,of ,,reasoning ,,into ,,moral ,,subjects4 ,,rara ,,temporum ,,felicitas1 ,,ubi ,,sentire1 ,,qu ,,velis2 ,,et ,,qu ,,sentias1 ,,dicere ,,licet4 ,,tacitus4 ,,book ,i4 ,,of ,,the ,,understanding4 ,,advertisement4 ,my design in the present ,work is sufficiently explained in the ,introduction4 ,the reader must only observe1 that all the subjects ,i have there planned out to myself are not treated in these two volumes4 ,the subjects of the ,understanding and ,passions make a complete chain of reasoning by themselves2 and ,i was willing to take advantage of this natural division1 in order to try the taste of the ,public4 ,if ,i have the good fortune to meet with success1 ,i shall proceed to the examination of ,morals1 ,politics1 and ,criticism1 which will complete this ,treatise of ,human ,nature4 ,the approbation of the ,public ,i consider as the greatest reward of my labours2 but am determined to regard its judgment1 whatever it be1 as my best instruction4 ,,introduction4 ,nothing is more usual and more natural for those1 who pretend to discover any thing new to the world in philosophy and the sciences1 than to insinuate the praises of their own systems1 by decrying all those which have been advanced before them4 ,and indeed were they content with lamenting that ignorance1 which we still lie under in the most important questions that can come before the tribunal of human reason1 there are few1 who have an acquaintance with the sciences1 that would not readily agree with them4 ',tis easy for one of judgment and learning1 to perceive the weak foundation even of those systems1 which have obtained the greatest credit1 and have carried their pretensions highest to accurate and profound reasoning4 ,principles taken upon trust1 consequences lamely deduced from them1 want of coherence in the parts1 and of evidence in the whole1 these are every where to be met with in the systems of the most eminent philosophers1 and seem to have drawn disgrace upon philosophy itself4 ,nor is there required such profound knowledge to discover the present imperfect condition of the sciences1 but even the rabble without doors may judge from the noise and clamour which they hear1 that all goes not well within4 ,there is nothing which is not the subject of debate1 and in which men of learning are not of contrary opinions4 ,the most trivial question escapes not our controversy1 and in the most momentous we are not able to give any certain decision4 ,disputes are multiplied1 as if every thing was uncertain4 ,amidst all this bustle1 'tis not reason which carries the prize1 but eloquence2 and no man needs ever despair of gaining proselytes to the most extravagant hypothesis1 who has art enough to represent it in any favourable colours4 ,the victory is not gained by the men at arms1 who manage the pike and the sword1 but by the trumpeters1 drummers1 and musicians of the army4 ,from hence1 in my opinion1 arises that common prejudice against metaphysical reasonings of all kinds1 even amongst those who profess themselves scholars1 and have a just value for every other part of literature4 ,by metaphysical reasonings1 they do not understand those on any particular branch of science1 but every kind of argument which is any way abstruse1 and requires some attention to be comprehended4 ,we have so often lost our labour in such researches1 that we commonly reject them without hesitation1 and resolve1 if we must for ever be a prey to errors and delusions1 that they shall at least be natural and entertaining4 ,and1 indeed1 nothing but the most determined scepticism1 along with a great degree of indolence1 can justify this aversion to metaphysics4 ,for1 if truth be at all within the reach of human capacity1 'tis certain it must lie very deep and abstruse2 and to hope we shall arrive at it without pains1 while the greatest geniuses have failed with the utmost pains1 must certainly be esteemed sufficiently vain and presumptuous4 ,i pretend to no such advantage in the philosophy ,i am going to unfold1 and would esteem it a strong presumption against it1 were it so very easy and obvious4 ',tis evident1 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 another2 ,even ,mathematics1 ,natural ,philosophy1 and ,natural ,religion1 are in some measure dependant on the science of ,,man2 since they lie under the cognizance of men1 and are judged of by their powers and faculties4 ',tis impossible to tell what changes and improvements we2 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 employ1 and of the operations we perform in our reasonings4 ,and these improvements are the more to be hoped for in natural religion1 as it is not content with instructing us in the nature of superior powers1 but carries its views farther1 to their disposition towards us1 and our duties towards them2 and consequently1 we ourselves are not only the beings that reason1 but also one of the objects concerning which we reason4 ,if1 therefore1 the sciences of mathematics1 natural philosophy1 and natural religion1 have such a dependence on the knowledge of man1 what may be expected in the other sciences1 whose connexion with human nature is more close and intimate8 ,the sole end of logic is to explain the principles and operations of our reasoning faculty1 and the nature of our ideas2 morals and criticism regard our tastes and sentiments2 and politics consider men as united in society1 and dependent on each other4 ,in these four sciences of ,logic1 ,morals1 ,criticism1 and ,politics1 is comprehended almost every thing which it can any way import us to be acquainted with1 or which can tend either to the improvement or ornament of the human mind4 ,here then is the only expedient1 from which we can hope for success in our philosophical researches1 to leave the tedious lingering method1 which we have hitherto followed1 and1 instead of taking now and then a castle or village on the frontier1 to march up directly to the capital or centre of these sciences1 to human nature itself2 which being once masters of1 we may every where else hope for an easy victory4 ,from this station we may extend our conquests over all those sciences1 which more intimately concern human life1 and may afterwards proceed at leisure1 to discover more fully those which are the objects of pure curiosity4 ,there is no question of importance1 whose decision is not comprised in the science of man2 and there is none1 which can be decided with any certainty1 before we become acquainted with that science4 ,in pretending1 therefore1 to explain the principles of human nature1 we in effect propose a complete system of the sciences1 built on a foundation almost entirely new1 and the only one upon which they can stand with any security4 ,and1 as the science of man is the only solid foundation for the other sciences1 so1 the only solid foundation we can give to this science itself must be laid on experience and observation4 ',tis no astonishing reflection to consider1 that the application of experimental philosophy to moral subjects should come after that to natural1 at the distance of above a whole century2 since we find in fact1 that there was about the same interval betwixt the origins of these sciences2 and that1 reckoning from ,thales to ,socrates1 the space of time is nearly equal to that betwixt my ,lord ,bacon and some late philosophers#a in ,england1 who have begun to put the science of man on a new footing1 and have engaged the attention1 and excited the curiosity of the public4 ,so true it is1 that however other nations may rival us in poetry1 and excel us in some other agreeable arts1 the improvements in reason and philosophy can only be owing to a land of toleration and of liberty4 ,nor ought we to think1 that this latter improvement in the science of man will do less honour to our native country than the former in natural philosophy1 but ought rather to esteem it a greater glory1 upon account of the greater importance of that science1 as well as the necessity it lay under of such a reformation4 ,for to me it seems evident1 that the essence of the 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 effects1 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 hypothesis1 that pretends to discover the ultimate original qualities of human nature1 ought at first to be rejected as presumptuous and chimerical4 ,i do not think a philosopher1 who would apply himself so earnestly to the explaining the ultimate principles of the soul1 would show himself a great master in that very science of human nature1 which he pretends to explain1 or very knowing in what is naturally satisfactory to the mind of man4 ,for nothing is more certain1 than that despair has almost the same effect upon us with enjoyment1 and that we are no sooner acquainted with the impossibility of satisfying any desire1 than the desire itself vanishes4 ,when we see1 that we have arrived at the utmost extent of human reason1 we sit down contented2 though we be perfectly satisfied in the main of our ignorance1 and perceive that we can give no reason for our most general and most refined principles1 beside our experience of their reality2 which is the reason of the mere vulgar1 and what it required no study at first to have discovered for the most particular and most extraordinary phenomenon4 ,and as this impossibility of making any farther progress is enough to satisfy the reader1 so the writer may derive a more delicate satisfaction from the free confession of his ignorance1 and from his prudence in avoiding that error1 into which so many have fallen1 of imposing their conjectures and hypotheses on the world for the most certain principles4 ,when this mutual contentment and satisfaction can be obtained betwixt the master and scholar1 ,i know not what more we can require of our philosophy4 ,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 after the same manner any 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 #a ,mr ,locke1 my ,lord ,shaftsbury1 ,dr ,mandeville1 ,mr ,hutchinson1 ,dr ,butler1 c4 ,,book ,i4 ,,of ,,the ,,understanding4 ,,part ,i4 ,,of ,,ideas1 ,,their ,,origin1 ,,composition1 ,,connexion1 ,,and ,,abstraction4 ,,section ,i4 ,,of ,,the ,,origin ,,of ,,our ,,ideas4 ,all the perceptions of the human mind resolve themselves into two distinct kinds1 which ,i shall call impressions and ideas4 ,the difference betwixt these consists in the degrees of force and liveliness1 with which they strike upon the mind1 and make their way into our thought or consciousness4 ,those perceptions which enter with most force and violence1 we may name impressions2 and1 under this name1 ,i comprehend all our sensations1 passions1 and emotions1 as they make their first appearance in the soul4 ,by ideas1 ,i mean the faint images of these in thinking and reasoning2 such as1 for instance1 are all the perceptions excited by the present discourse1 excepting only those which arise from the sight and touch1 and excepting the immediate pleasure or uneasiness it may occasion4 ,i believe it will not be very necessary to employ many ,words1 in explaining this distinction4 ,every one of himself will readily perceive the difference betwixt feeling and thinking4 ,the common degrees of these are easily distinguished2 though it is not impossible but1 in particular instances1 they may very nearly approach to each other4 ,thus1 in sleep1 in a fever1 in madness1 or in any very violent emotions of soul1 our ideas may approach to our impressions3 as1 on the other hand1 it sometimes happens1 that our impressions are so faint and low1 that we cannot distinguish them from our ideas4 ,but1 notwithstanding this near resemblance in a few instances1 they are in general so very different1 that no one can make a scruple to rank them under distinct heads1 and assign to each a peculiar name to mark the difference4#a ,there is another division of our perceptions1 which it will be convenient to observe1 and which extends itself both to our impressions and ideas4 ,this division is into simple and complex4 ,simple perceptions1 or impressions and ideas1 are such as admit of no distinction nor separation4 ,the complex are the contrary to these1 and may be distinguished into parts4 ,though a particular colour1 taste and smell1 are qualities all united together in this apple1 'tis easy to perceive they are not the same1 but are at least distinguishable from each other4 ,having1 by these divisions1 given an order and arrangement to our objects1 we may now apply ourselves to consider1 with the more accuracy1 their qualities and relations4 ,the first circumstance that strikes my eye1 is the great resemblance betwixt our impressions and ideas in every other particular1 except their degree of force and vivacity4 ,the one seem to be1 in a manner1 the reflection of the other2 so that all the perceptions of the mind are double1 and appear both as impressions and ideas4 ,when ,i shut my eyes1 and think of my chamber1 the ideas ,i form are exact representations of the impressions ,i felt2 nor is there any circumstance of the one1 which is not to be found in the other4 ,in running over my other perceptions1 ,i find still the same resemblance and representation4 ,ideas and impressions appear always to correspond to each other4 ,this circumstance seems to me remarkable1 and engages my attention for a moment4 ,upon a more accurate survey ,i find ,i have been carried away too far by the first appearance1 and that ,i must make use of the distinction of perceptions into simple and complex1 to limit this general decision1 that all our ideas and impressions are resembling4 ,i observe that many of our complex ideas never had impressions that corresponded to them1 and that many of our complex impressions never are exactly copied in ideas4 ,i can imagine to myself such a city as the ,new ,jerusalem1 whose pavement is gold1 and walls are rubies1 though ,i never saw any such4 ,i have seen ,paris2 but shall ,i affirm ,i can form such an idea of that city1 as will perfectly represent all its streets and houses in their real and just proportions8 ,i perceive1 therefore1 that though there is1 in general1 a great resemblance betwixt our complex impressions and ideas1 yet the rule is not universally true1 that they are exact copies of each other4 ,we may next consider1 how the case stands with our simple perceptions4 ,after the most accurate examination of which ,i am capable1 ,i venture to affirm1 that the rule here holds without any exception1 and that every simple idea has a simple impression1 which resembles it1 and every simple impression a correspondent idea4 ,that idea of red1 which we form in the dark1 and that impression1 which strikes our eyes in sunshine1 differ only in degree1 not in nature4 ,that the case is the same with all our simple impressions and ideas1 'tis impossible to prove by a particular enumeration of them4 ,every one may satisfy himself in this point by running over as many as he pleases4 ,but if any one should deny this universal resemblance1 ,i know no way of convincing him1 but by desiring him to show a simple impression that has not a correspondent idea1 or a simple idea that has not a correspondent impression4 ,if he does not answer this challenge1 as 'tis certain he cannot1 we may1 from his silence and our own observation1 establish our conclusion4 ,thus we find1 that all simple ideas and impressions resemble each other2 and1 as the complex are formed from them1 we may affirm in general1 that these two species of perception are exactly correspondent4 ,having discovered this relation1 which requires no farther examination1 ,i am curious to find some other of their qualities4 ,let us consider1 how they stand with regard to their existence1 and which of the impressions and ideas are causes1 and which effects4 ,the full examination of this question is the subject of the present treatise2 and1 therefore1 we shall here content ourselves with establishing one general proposition1 ,that all our simple ideas in their first appearance1 are derived from simple impressions1 which are correspondent to them1 and which they exactly represent4 ,in seeking for phenomena to prove this proposition1 ,i find only those of two kinds2 but1 in each kind the phenomena are obvious1 numerous1 and conclusive4 ,i first make myself certain1 by a new review1 of what ,i have already asserted1 that every simple impression is attended with a correspondent idea1 and every simple idea with a correspondent impression4 ,from this constant conjunction of resembling perceptions ,i immediately conclude1 that there is a great connexion betwixt our correspondent impressions and ideas1 and that the existence of the one has a considerable influence upon that of the other4 ,such a constant conjunction1 in such an infinite number of instances1 can never arise from chance2 but clearly proves a dependence of the impressions on the ideas1 or of the ideas on the impressions4 ,that ,i may know on which side this dependence lies1 ,i consider the order of their first appearance2 and find1 by constant experience1 that the simple impressions always take the precedence of their correspondent ideas1 but never appear in the contrary order4 ,to give a child an idea of scarlet or orange1 of sweet or bitter1 ,i present the objects1 or1 in other words1 convey to him these impressions2 but proceed not so absurdly1 as to endeavour to produce the impressions by exciting the ideas4 ,our ideas1 upon their appearance1 produce not their correspondent impressions1 nor do we perceive any colour1 or feel any sensation merely upon thinking of them4 ,on the other hand we find1 that any impression1 either of the mind or body1 is constantly followed by an idea1 which resembles it1 and is only different in the degrees of force and liveliness4 ,the constant conjunction of our resembling perceptions1 is a convincing proof1 that the one are the causes of the other2 and this priority of the impressions is an equal proof1 that our impressions are the causes of our ideas1 not our ideas of our impressions4 ,to confirm this1 ,i consider another plain and convincing phenomenon2 which is1 that wherever1 by any accident1 the faculties which give rise to any impressions are obstructed in their operations1 as when one is born blind or deaf1 not only the impressions are lost1 but also their correspondent ideas2 so that there never appear in the mind the least traces of either of them4 ,nor is this only true1 where the organs of sensation are entirely destroyed1 but likewise where they have never been put in action to produce a particular impression4 ,we cannot form to ourselves a just idea of the taste of a pine-apple1 without having actually tasted it4 ,there is1 however1 one contradictory phenomenon1 which may prove1 that 'tis not absolutely impossible for ideas to go before their correspondent impressions4 ,i believe it will readily be allowed1 that the several distinct ideas of colours1 which enter by the eyes1 or those of sounds1 which are conveyed by the hearing1 are really different from each other1 though1 at the same time1 resembling4 ,now1 if this be true of different colours1 it must be no less so of the different shades of the same colour1 that each of them produces a distinct idea1 independent of the rest4 ,for if this should be denied1 'tis possible1 by the continual gradation of shades1 to run a colour insensibly into what is most remote from it2 and1 if you will not allow any of the means to be different1 you cannot1 without absurdity1 deny the extremes to be the same4 ,suppose1 therefore1 a person to have enjoyed his sight for thirty years1 and to have become perfectly well acquainted with colours of all kinds1 excepting one particular shade of blue1 for instance1 which it never has been his fortune to meet with4 ,let all the different shades of that colour1 except that single one1 be placed before him1 descending gradually from the deepest to the lightest2 'tis plain1 that he will perceive a blank1 where that shade is wanting1 and will be sensible that there is a greater distance in that place1 betwixt the contiguous colours1 than in any other4 ,now ,i ask1 whether 'tis possible for him1 from his own imagination1 to supply this deficiency1 and raise up to himself the idea of that particular shade1 though it had never been conveyed to him by his senses8 ,i believe there are few but will be of opinion that he can2 and this may serve as a proof1 that the simple ideas are not always derived from the correspondent impressions2 though the instance is so particular and singular1 that 'tis scarce worth our observing1 and does not merit that1 for it alone1 we should alter our general maxim4 ,but1 besides this exception1 it may not be amiss to remark1 on this head1 that the principle of the priority of impressions to ideas1 must be understood with another limitation1 viz4 that as our ideas are images of our impressions1 so we can form secondary ideas1 which are images of the primary1 as appears from this very reasoning concerning them4 ,this is not1 properly speaking1 an exception to the rule so much as an explanation of it4 ,ideas produce the images of themselves in new ideas2 but as the first ideas are supposed to be derived from impressions1 it still remains true1 that all our simple ideas proceed1 either mediately or immediately1 from their correspondent impressions4 ,this1 then1 is the first principle ,i establish in the science of human nature2 nor ought we to despise it because of the simplicity of its appearance4 ,for 'tis remarkable1 that the present question concerning the precedency of our impressions or ideas1 is the same with what has made so much noise in other terms1 when it has been disputed whether there be any innate ideas1 or whether all ideas be derived from sensation and reflection4 ,we may observe1 that in order to prove the ideas of extension and colour not to be innate1 philosophers do nothing but show1 that they are conveyed by our senses4 ,to prove the ideas of passion and desire not to be innate1 they observe1 that we have a preceding experience of these emotions in ourselves4 ,now1 if we carefully examine these arguments1 we shall find that they prove nothing but that ideas are preceded by other more lively perceptions1 from which they are derived1 and which they represent4 ,i hope this clear stating of the question will remove all disputes concerning it1 and will render this principle of more use in our reasonings1 than it seems hitherto to have been4 #a ,i here make use of these terms1 impression and idea1 in a sense different from what is usual1 and ,i hope this liberty will be allowed me4 ,perhaps ,i rather restore the word idea to its original sense1 from which ,mr ,locke had perverted it1 in making it stand for all our perceptions4 ,by the term of impression1 ,i would not be understood to express the manner in which our lively perceptions are produced in the soul1 but merely the perceptions themselves2 for which there is no particular name1 either in the ,english or any other language that ,i know of4 ,,section ,,ii4 ,,division ,,of ,,the ,,subject4 ,since it appears1 that our simple impressions are prior to their correspondent ideas1 and that the exceptions are very rare1 method seems to require we should examine our impressions before we consider our ideas4 ,impressions may be divided into two kinds1 those of sensation1 and those of reflection4 ,the first kind arises in the soul originally1 from unknown causes4 ,the second is derived1 in a great measure1 from our ideas1 and that in the following order4 ,an impression first strikes upon the senses1 and makes us perceive heat or cold1 thirst or hunger1 pleasure or pain1 of some kind or other4 ,of this impression there is a copy taken by the mind1 which remains after the impression ceases2 and this we call an idea4 ,this idea of pleasure or pain1 when it returns upon the soul1 produces the new impressions of desire and aversion1 hope and fear1 which may properly be called impressions of reflection1 because derived from it4 ,these again are copied by the memory and imagination1 and become ideas2 which1 perhaps1 in their turn1 give rise to other impressions and ideas3 so that the impressions of reflection are only antecedent to their correspondent ideas1 but posterior to those of sensation1 and derived from them4 ,the examination of our sensations belongs more to anatomists and natural philosophers than to moral2 and1 therefore1 shall not at present be entered upon4 ,and1 as the impressions of reflection1 viz4 passions1 desires1 and emotions1 which principally deserve our attention1 arise mostly from ideas1 'twill be necessary to reverse that method1 which at first sight seems most natural2 and1 in order to explain the nature and principles of the human mind1 give a particular account of ideas1 before we proceed to impressions4 ,for this reason1 ,i have here chosen to begin with ideas4 ,,section ,,iii4 ,,of ,,the ,,ideas ,,of ,,the ,,memory ,,and ,,imagination4 ,we find1 by experience1 that when any impression has been present with the mind1 it again makes its appearance there as an idea2 and this it may do after two different ways3 either when1 in its new appearance1 it retains a considerable degree of its first vivacity1 and is somewhat intermediate betwixt 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 ',tis evident1 at first sight1 that the ideas of the memory are much more lively and strong than those of the imagination1 and that the former faculty paints its objects in more distinct colours1 than any which are employed by the latter4 ,when we remember any past event1 the idea of it flows in upon the mind in a forcible manner2 whereas1 in the imagination1 the perception is faint and languid1 and cannot1 without difficulty1 be preserved by the mind steady and uniform for any considerable time4 ,here1 then1 is a sensible difference betwixt one species of ideas and another4 ,but of this more fully hereafter4#b ,there is another difference betwixt these two kinds of ideas1 which is no less evident1 namely1 that though neither the ideas of the memory nor imagination1 neither the lively nor faint ideas1 can make their appearance in the mind1 unless their correspondent impressions have gone before to prepare the way for them1 yet the imagination is not restrained to the same order and form with the original impressions2 while the memory is in a manner tied down in that respect1 without any power of variation4 ',tis evident1 that the memory preserves the original form1 in which its objects were presented1 and that wherever we depart from it in recollecting any thing1 it proceeds from some defect or imperfection in that faculty4 ,an historian may1 perhaps1 for the more convenient carrying on of his narration1 relate an event before another to which it was in fact posterior2 but then1 he takes notice of this disorder1 if he be exact2 and1 by that means1 replaces the idea in its due position4 ',tis the same case in our recollection of those places and persons1 with which we were formerly acquainted4 ,the chief exercise of the memory is not to preserve the simple ideas1 but their order and position4 ,in short1 this principle is supported by such a number of common and vulgar phenomena1 that we may spare ourselves the trouble of insisting on it any farther4 ,the same evidence follows us in our second principle1 of the liberty of the imagination to transpose and change its ideas4 ,the fables we meet with in poems and romances put this entirely out of question4 ,nature there is totally confounded1 and nothing mentioned but winged horses1 fiery dragons1 and monstrous giants4 ,nor will this liberty of the fancy appear strange1 when we consider1 that all our ideas are copied from our impressions1 and that there are not any two impressions which are perfectly inseparable4 ,not to mention1 that this is an evident consequence of the division of ideas into simple and complex4 ,wherever the imagination perceives a difference among ideas1 it can easily produce a separation4 #b ,part ,,iii4 ,sect4 #e4 ,,section ,,iv4 ,,of ,,the ,,connexion ,,or ,,association ,,of ,,ideas4 ,as all simple ideas may be separated by the imagination1 and may be united again in what form it pleases1 nothing would be more unaccountable than the operations of that faculty1 were it not guided by some universal principles1 which render it1 in some measure1 uniform with itself in all times and places4 ,were ideas entirely loose and unconnected1 chance alone would join them2 and 'tis impossible the same simple ideas should fall regularly into complex ones 7as they commonly do71 without some bond of union among them1 some associating quality1 by which one idea naturally introduces another4 ,this uniting principle among ideas is not to be considered as an inseparable connexion2 for that has been already excluded from the imagination3 nor yet are we to conclude1 that without it the mind cannot join two ideas2 for nothing is more free than that faculty3 but we are only to regard it as a gentle force1 which commonly prevails1 and is the cause why1 among other things1 languages so nearly correspond to each other2 ,nature1 in a manner1 pointing out to every one those simple ideas1 which are most proper to be united into a complex one4 ,the qualities1 from which this association arises1 and by which the mind is1 after this manner1 conveyed from one idea to another1 are three1 viz4 resemblance1 contiguity in time or place1 and cause and effect4 ,i believe it will not be very necessary to prove1 that these qualities produce an association among ideas1 and1 upon the appearance of one idea1 naturally introduce another4 ',tis plain1 that1 in the course of our thinking1 and in the constant revolution of our ideas1 our imagination runs easily from one idea to any other that resembles it1 and that this quality alone is to the fancy a sufficient bond and association4 ',tis likewise evident1 that as the senses1 in changing their objects1 are necessitated to change them regularly1 and take them as they lie contiguous to each other1 the imagination must1 by long custom1 acquire the same method of thinking1 and run along the parts of space and time in conceiving its objects4 ,as to the connexion that is made by the relation of cause and effect1 we shall have occasion afterwards to examine it to the bottom1 and therefore shall not at present insist upon it4 ',tis sufficient to observe1 that there is no relation1 which produces a stronger connexion in the fancy1 and makes one idea more readily recal another1 than the relation of cause and effect betwixt their objects4 ,that we may understand the full extent of these relations1 we must consider1 that two objects are connected together in the imagination1 not only when the one is immediately resembling1 contiguous to1 or the cause of the other1 but also when there is interposed betwixt them a third object1 which bears to both of them any of these relations4 ,this may be carried on to a great length2 though1 at the same time we may observe1 that each remove considerably weakens the relation4 ,cousins in the fourth degree are connected by causation1 if ,i may be allowed to use that term2 but not so closely as brothers1 much less as child and parent4 ,in general1 we may observe1 that all the relations of blood depend upon cause and effect1 and are esteemed near or remote1 according to the number of connecting causes interposed betwixt the persons4 ,of the three relations above mentioned this of causation is the most extensive4 ,two objects may be considered as placed in this relation1 as well when one is the cause of any of the actions or motions of the other1 as when the former is the cause of the existence of the latter4 ,for as that action or motion is nothing but the object itself1 considered in a certain light1 and as the object continues the same in all its different situations1 'tis easy to imagine how such an influence of objects upon one another may connect them in the imagination4 ,we may carry this farther1 and remark1 not only that two objects are connected by the relation of cause and effect1 when the one produces a motion or any action in the other1 but also when it has a power of producing it4 ,and this we may observe to be the source of all the relations of interest and duty1 by which men influence each other in society1 and are placed in the ties of government and subordination4 ,a master is such a one as1 by his situation1 arising either from force or agreement1 has a power of directing in certain particulars the actions of another1 whom we call servant4 ,a judge is one1 who1 in all disputed cases1 can fix by his opinion the possession or property of any thing betwixt any members of the society4 ,when a person is possessed of any power1 there is no more required to convert it into action1 but the exertion of the will2 and that in every case is considered as possible1 and in many as probable2 especially in the case of authority1 where the obedience of the subject is a pleasure and advantage to the superior4 ,these are1 therefore1 the principles of union or cohesion among our simple ideas1 and in the imagination supply the place of that inseparable connexion1 by which they are united in our memory4 ,here is a kind of attraction1 which in the mental world 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 every where conspicuous2 but1 as to its causes1 they are mostly unknown1 and must be resolved into original qualities of human nature1 which ,i pretend not to explain4 ,nothing is more requisite for a true philosopher1 than to restrain the intemperate desire of searching into causes2 and1 having established any doctrine upon a sufficient number of experiments1 rest contented with that1 when he sees a farther examination would lead him into obscure and uncertain speculations4 ,in that case his inquiry would be much better employed in examining the effects than the causes of his principle4 ,amongst the effects of this union or association of ideas1 there are none more remarkable than those complex ideas1 which are the common subjects of our thoughts and reasoning1 and generally arise from some principle of union among our simple ideas4 ,these complex ideas may be divided into relations1 modes1 and substances4 ,we shall briefly examine each of these in order1 and shall subjoin some considerations concerning our general and particular ideas1 before we leave the present subject1 which may be considered as the elements of this philosophy4 ,,section ,v4 ,,of ,,relations4 ,the word relation is commonly used in two senses considerably different from each other4 ,either for that quality1 by which two ideas are connected together in the imagination1 and the one naturally introduces the other1 after the manner above explained2 or for that particular circumstance1 in which1 even upon the arbitrary union of two ideas in the fancy1 we may think proper to compare them4 ,in common language1 the former is always the sense in which we use the word relation2 and 'tis only in philosophy that we extend it to mean any particular subject of comparison1 without a connecting principle4 ,thus1 distance will be allowed by philosophers to be a true relation1 because we acquire an idea of it by the comparing of objects3 but in a common way we say1 that nothing can be more distant than such or such things from each other1 nothing can have less relation2 as if distance and relation were incompatible4 ,it may1 perhaps1 be esteemed an endless task to enumerate all those qualities1 which make objects admit of comparison1 and by which the ideas of philosophical relation are produced4 ,but if we diligently consider them we shall find1 that without difficulty they may be comprised under seven general heads1 which may be considered as the sources of all philosophical relation4 #a4 ,the first is resemblance3 and this is a relation1 without which no philosophical relation can exist1 since no objects will admit of comparison1 but what have some degree of resemblance4 ,but though resemblance be necessary to all philosophical relation1 it does not follow that it always produces a connexion or association of ideas4 ,when a quality becomes very general1 and is common to a great many individuals1 it leads not the mind directly to any one of them2 but1 by presenting at once too great a choice1 does thereby prevent the imagination from fixing on any single object4 #b4 ,identity may be esteemed a second species of relation4 ,this relation ,i here consider as applied in its strictest sense to constant and unchangeable objects2 without examining the nature and foundation of personal identity1 which shall find its place afterwards4 ,of all relations the most universal is that of identity1 being common to every being1 whose existence has any duration4 #c4 ,after identity the most universal and comprehensive relations are those of space and time1 which are the sources of an infinite number of comparisons1 such as distant1 contiguous1 above1 below1 before1 after1 c4 #d4 ,all those objects1 which admit of quantity or number1 may be compared in that particular1 which is another very fertile source of relation4 #e4 ,when any two objects possess the same quality in common1 the degrees in which they possess it form a fifth species of relation4 ,thus1 of two objects which are both heavy1 the one may be either of greater or less weight than the other4 ,two colours1 that are of the same kind1 may yet be of different shades1 and in that respect admit of comparison4 #f4 ,the relation of contrariety may at first sight be regarded as an exception to the rule1 that no relation of any kind can subsist without some degree of resemblance4 ,but let us consider1 that no two ideas are in themselves contrary1 except those of existence and non-existence1 which are plainly resembling1 as implying both of them an idea of the object2 though the latter excludes the object from all times and places1 in which it is supposed not to exist4 #g4 ,all other objects1 such as fire and water1 heat and cold1 are only found to be contrary from experience1 and from the contrariety of their causes or effects2 which relation of cause and effect is a seventh philosophical relation1 as well as a natural one4 ,the resemblance implied in this relation shall be explained afterwards4 ,it might naturally be expected that ,i should join difference to the other relations2 but that ,i consider rather as a negation of relation than as any thing real or positive4 ,difference is of two kinds1 as opposed either to identity or resemblance4 ,the first is called a difference of number2 the other of kind4 ,,section ,,vi4 ,,of ,,modes ,,and ,,substances4 ,i would fain ask those philosophers1 who found so much of their reasonings on the distinction of substance and accident1 and imagine we have clear ideas of each1 whether the idea of substance be derived from the impressions of sensation or reflection8 ,if it be conveyed to us by our senses1 ,i ask1 which of them1 and after what manner8 ,if it be perceived by the eyes1 it must be a colour2 if by the ears1 a sound2 if by the palate1 a taste2 and so of the other senses4 ,but ,i believe none will assert1 that substance is either a colour1 or sound1 or a taste4 ,the idea of substance must therefore be derived from an impression of reflection1 if it really exist4 ,but the impressions of reflection resolve themselves into our passions and emotions2 none of which can possibly represent a substance4 ,we have1 therefore1 no idea of substance1 distinct from that of a collection of particular qualities1 nor have we any other meaning when we either talk or reason concerning it4 ,the idea of a substance as well as that of a mode1 is nothing but a collection of simple ideas1 that are united by the imagination1 and have a particular name assigned them1 by which we are able to recal1 either to ourselves or others1 that collection4 ,but the difference betwixt these ideas consists in this1 that the particular qualities1 which form a substance1 are commonly referred to an unknown something1 in which they are supposed to inhere2 or granting this fiction should not take place1 are at least supposed to be closely and inseparably connected by the relations of contiguity and causation4 ,the effect of this is1 that whatever new simple quality we discover to have the same connexion with the rest1 we immediately comprehend it among them1 even though it did not enter into the first conception of the substance4 ,thus our idea of gold may at first be a yellow colour1 weight1 malleableness1 fusibility2 but upon the discovery of its dissolubility in aqua regia1 we join that to the other qualities1 and suppose it to belong to the substance as much as if its idea had from the beginning made a part of the compound one4 ,the principle of union being regarded as the chief part of the complex idea1 gives entrance to whatever quality afterwards occurs1 and is equally comprehended by it1 as are the others1 which first presented themselves4 ,that this cannot take place in modes1 is evident from considering their nature4 ,the simple ideas of which modes are formed1 either represent qualities1 which are not united by contiguity and causation1 but are dispersed in different subjects2 or if they be all united together1 the uniting principle is not regarded as the foundation of the complex idea4 ,the idea of a dance is an instance of the first kind of modes2 that of beauty of the second4 ,the reason is obvious1 why such complex ideas cannot receive any new idea1 without changing the name1 which distinguishes the mode4 ,,section ,,vii4 ,,of ,,abstract ,,ideas4 ,a very material question has been started concerning abstract or general ideas1 whether they be general or particular in the mind's conception of them4 ,a great philosopher#c has disputed the received opinion in this particular1 and has asserted1 that all general ideas are nothing but particular ones annexed to a certain term1 which gives them a more extensive signification1 and makes them recal upon occasion other individuals1 which are similar to them4 ,as ,i look upon this to be one of the greatest and most valuable discoveries that has been made of late years in the republic of letters1 ,i shall here endeavour to confirm it by some arguments1 which ,i hope will put it beyond all doubt and controversy4 ',tis evident1 that1 in forming most of our general ideas1 if not all of them1 we abstract from every particular degree of quantity and quality1 and that an object ceases not to be of any particular species on account of every small alteration in its extension1 duration1 and other properties4 ,it may therefore be thought1 that here is a plain dilemma1 that decides concerning the nature of those abstract ideas1 which have afforded so much speculation to philosophers4 ,the abstract idea of a man represents men of all sizes and all qualities1 which 'tis concluded it cannot do1 but either by representing at once all possible sizes and all possible qualities1 or by representing no particular one at all4 ,now1 it having been esteemed absurd to defend the former proposition1 as implying an infinite capacity in the mind1 it has been commonly inferred in favour of the latter2 and our abstract ideas have been supposed to represent no particular degree either of quantity or quality4 ,but that this inference is erroneous1 ,i shall endeavour to make appear1 first1 by proving1 that 'tis utterly impossible to conceive any quantity or quality1 without forming a precise notion of its degrees2 and1 secondly1 by showing1 that though the capacity of the mind be not infinite1 yet we can at once form a notion of all possible degrees of quantity and quality1 in such a manner at least1 as1 however imperfect1 may serve all the purposes of reflection and conversation4 ,to begin with the first proposition1 that the mind cannot form any notion of quantity or quality without forming a precise notion of degrees of each1 we may prove this by the three following arguments4 ,first1 we have observed1 that whatever objects are different are distinguishable1 and that whatever objects are distinguishable are separable by the thought and imagination4 ,and we may here add1 that these propositions are equally true in the inverse1 and that whatever objects are separable are also distinguishable1 and that whatever objects are distinguishable are also different4 ,for how is it possible we can separate what is not distinguishable1 or distinguish what is not different8 ,in order therefore to know whether abstraction implies a separation1 we need only consider it in this view1 and examine1 whether all the circumstances1 which we abstract from in our general ideas1 be such as are distinguishable and different from those1 which we retain as essential parts of them4 ,but 'tis evident at first sight1 that the precise length of a line is not different nor distinguishable from the line itself2 nor the precise degree of any quality from the quality4 ,these ideas1 therefore1 admit no more of separation than they do of distinction and difference4 ,they are1 consequently1 conjoined with each other in the conception2 and the general idea of a line1 notwithstanding all our abstractions and refinements1 has1 in its appearance in the mind1 a precise degree of quantity and quality2 however it may be made to represent others which have different degrees of both4 ,secondly1 'tis confessed1 that no object can appear to the senses2 or in other words1 that no impression can become present to the mind1 without being determined in its degrees both of quantity and quality4 ,the confusion1 in which impressions are sometimes involved1 proceeds only from their faintness and unsteadiness1 not from any capacity in the mind to receive any impression1 which in its real existence has no particular degree nor proportion4 ,that is a contradiction in terms2 and even implies the flattest of all contradictions1 viz4 that 'tis possible for the same thing both to be and not to be4 ,now1 since all ideas are derived from impressions1 and are nothing but copies and representations of them1 whatever is true of the one must be acknowledged concerning the other4 ,impressions and ideas differ only in their strength and vivacity4 ,the foregoing conclusion is not founded on any particular degree of vivacity4 ,it cannot1 therefore1 be affected by any variation in that particular4 ,an idea is a weaker impression2 and1 as a strong impression must necessarily have a determinate quantity and quality1 the case must be the same with its copy or representative4 ,thirdly1 'tis a principle generally received in philosophy1 that every thing in nature is individual1 and that 'tis utterly absurd to suppose a triangle really existent1 which has no precise proportion of sides and angles4 ,if this1 therefore1 be absurd in fact and reality1 it must also be absurd in idea2 since nothing of which we can form a clear and distinct idea is absurd and impossible4 ,but to form the idea of an object1 and to form an idea simply1 is the same thing2 the reference of the idea to an object being an extraneous denomination1 of which in itself it bears no mark or character4 ,now1 as 'tis impossible to form an idea of an object that is possessed of quantity and quality1 and yet is possessed of no precise degree of either1 it follows1 that there is an equal impossibility of forming an idea1 that is not limited and confined in both these particulars4 ,abstract ideas are1 therefore1 in themselves individual1 however they may become general in their representation4 ,the image in the mind is only that of a particular object1 though the application of it in our reasoning be the same as if it were universal4 ,this application of ideas1 beyond their nature1 proceeds from our collecting all their possible degrees of quantity and quality in such an imperfect manner as may serve the purposes of life1 which is the second proposition ,i proposed to explain4 ,when we have found a resemblance#d among several objects1 that often occur to us1 we apply the same name to all of them1 whatever differences we may observe in the degrees of their quantity and quality1 and whatever other differences may appear among them4 ,after we have acquired a custom of this kind1 the hearing of that name revives the idea of one of these objects1 and makes the imagination conceive it with all its particular circumstances and proportions4 ,but as the same word is supposed to have been frequently applied to other individuals1 that are different in many respects from that idea1 which is immediately present to the mind2 the word not being able to revive the idea of all these individuals1 only touches the soul1 if ,i may be allowed so to speak1 and revives that custom1 which we have acquired by surveying them4 ,they are not really and in fact present to the mind1 but only in power2 nor do we draw them all out distinctly in the imagination1 but keep ourselves in a readiness to survey any of them1 as we may be prompted by a present design or necessity4 ,the word raises up an individual idea1 along with a certain custom1 and that custom produces any other individual one1 for which we may have occasion4 ,but as the production of all the ideas1 to which the name may be applied1 is in most cases impossible1 we abridge that work by a more partial consideration1 and find but few inconveniences to arise in our reasoning from that abridgment4 ,for this is one of the most extraordinary circumstances in the present affair1 that after the mind has produced an individual idea1 upon which we reason1 the attendant custom1 revived by the general or abstract term1 readily suggests any other individual1 if by chance we form any reasoning that agrees not with it4 ,thus1 should we mention the word triangle1 and form the idea of a particular equilateral one to correspond to it1 and should we afterwards assert1 that the three angles of a triangle are equal to each other1 the other individuals of a scalenum and isosceles1 which we overlooked at first1 immediately crowd in upon us1 and make us perceive the falsehood of this proposition1 though it be true with relation to that idea which we had formed4 ,if the mind suggests not always these ideas upon occasion1 it proceeds from some imperfection in its faculties2 and such a one as is often the source of false reasoning and sophistry4 ,but this is principally the case with those ideas which are abstruse and compounded4 ,on other occasions the custom is more entire1 and 'tis seldom we run into such errors4 ,nay so entire is the custom1 that the very same idea may be annexed to several different words1 and may be employed in different reasonings1 without any danger of mistake4 ,thus the idea of an equilateral triangle of an inch perpendicular may serve us in talking of a figure1 of a rectilineal figure1 of a regular figure1 of a triangle1 and of an equilateral triangle4 ,all these terms1 therefore1 are in this case attended with the same idea2 but as they are wont to be applied in a greater or lesser compass1 they excite their particular habits1 and thereby keep the mind in a readiness to observe1 that no conclusion be formed contrary to any ideas1 which are usually comprised under them4 ,before those habits have become entirely perfect1 perhaps the mind may not be content with forming the idea of only one individual1 but may run over several1 in order to make itself comprehend its own meaning1 and the compass of that collection1 which it intends to express by the general term4 ,that we may fix the meaning of the word1 figure1 we may revolve in our mind the ideas of circles1 squares1 parallelograms1 triangles of different sizes and proportions1 and may not rest on one image or idea4 ,however this may be1 'tis certain that we form the idea of individuals whenever we use any general term2 that we seldom or never can exhaust these individuals2 and that those which remain1 are only represented by means of that habit by which we recal them1 whenever any present occasion requires it4 ,this then is the nature of our abstract ideas and general terms2 and 'tis after this manner we account for the foregoing paradox1 that some ideas are particular in their nature1 but general in their representation4 ,a particular idea becomes general by being annexed to a general term2 that is1 to a term which1 from a customary conjunction1 has a relation to many other particular ideas1 and readily recals them in the imagination4 ,the only difficulty that can remain on this subject1 must be with regard to that custom1 which so readily recals every particular idea for which we may have occasion1 and is excited by any word or sound to which we commonly annex it4 ,the most proper method1 in my opinion1 of giving a satisfactory explication of this act of the mind1 is by producing other instances which are analogous to it1 and other principles which facilitate its operation4 ,to explain the ultimate causes of our mental actions is impossible4 ',tis sufficient if we can give any satisfactory account of them from experience and analogy4 ,first1 then1 ,i observe1 that when we mention any great number1 such as a thousand1 the mind has generally no adequate idea of it1 but only a power of producing such an idea1 by its adequate idea of the decimals under which the number is comprehended4 ,this imperfection1 however1 in our ideas1 is never felt in our reasonings1 which seems to be an instance parallel to the present one of universal ideas4 ,secondly1 we have several instances of habits which may be revived by one single word2 as when a person who has1 by rote1 any periods of a discourse1 or any number of verses1 will be put in remembrance of the whole1 which he is at a loss to recollect1 by that single word or expression with which they begin4 ,thirdly1 ,i believe every one who examines the situation of his mind in reasoning1 will agree with me1 that we do not annex distinct and complete ideas to every term we make use of1 and that in talking of government1 church1 negociation1 conquest1 we seldom spread out in our minds all the simple ideas of which these complex ones are composed4 ',tis however observable1 that notwithstanding this imperfection1 we may avoid talking nonsense on these subjects1 and may perceive any repugnance among the ideas as well as if we had a full comprehension of them4 ,thus1 if instead of saying1 that in war the weaker have always recourse to negociation1 we should say1 that they have always recourse to conquest1 the custom which we have acquired of attributing certain relations to ideas1 still follows the words1 and makes us immediately perceive the absurdity of that proposition2 in the same manner as one particular idea may serve us in reasoning concerning other ideas1 however different from it in several circumstances4 ,fourthly1 as the individuals are collected together1 and placed under a general term with a view to that resemblance which they bear to each other1 this relation must facilitate their entrance in the imagination1 and make them be suggested more readily upon occasion4 ,and1 indeed1 if we consider the common progress of the thought1 either in reflection or conversation1 we shall find great reason to be satisfied in this particular4 ,nothing is more admirable than the readiness with which the imagination suggests its ideas1 and presents them at the very instant in which they become necessary or useful4 ,the fancy runs from one end of the universe to the other1 in collecting those ideas which belong to any subject4 ,one would think the whole intellectual world of ideas was at once subjected to our view1 and that we did nothing but pick out such as were most proper for our purpose4 ,there may not1 however1 be any present1 beside those very ideas1 that are thus collected by a kind of magical faculty in the soul1 which1 though it be always most perfect in the greatest geniuses1 and is properly what we call a genius1 is however inexplicable by the utmost efforts of human understanding4 ,perhaps these four reflections may help to remove all difficulties to the hypothesis ,i have proposed concerning abstract ideas1 so contrary to that which has hitherto prevailed in philosophy4 ,but to tell the truth1 ,i place my chief confidence in what ,i have already proved concerning the impossibility of general ideas1 according to the common method of explaining them4 ,we must certainly seek some new system on this head1 and there plainly is none beside what ,i have proposed4 ,if ideas be particular in their nature1 and at the same time finite in their number1 'tis only by custom they can become general in their representation1 and contain an infinite number of other ideas under them4 ,before ,i leave this subject1 ,i shall employ the same principles to explain that distinction of reason1 which is so much talked of1 and is so little understood in the schools4 ,of this kind is the distinction betwixt figure and the body figured2 motion and the body moved4 ,the difficulty of explaining this distinction arises from the principle above explained1 that all ideas which are different are separable4 ,for it follows from thence1 that if the figure be different from the body1 their ideas must be separable as well as distinguishable2 if they be not different1 their ideas can neither be separable nor distinguishable4 ,what then is meant by a distinction of reason1 since it implies neither a difference nor separation8 ,to remove this difficulty1 we must have recourse to the foregoing explication of abstract ideas4 ',tis certain that the mind would never have dreamed of distinguishing a figure from the body figured1 as being in reality neither distinguishable1 nor different1 nor separable1 did it not observe1 that even in this simplicity there might be contained many different resemblances and relations4 ,thus1 when a globe of white marble is presented1 we receive only the impression of a white colour disposed in a certain form1 nor are we able to separate and distinguish the colour from the form4 ,but observing afterwards a globe of black marble and a cube of white1 and comparing them with our former object1 we find two separate resemblances1 in what formerly seemed1 and really is1 perfectly inseparable4 ,after a little more practice of this kind1 we begin to distinguish the figure from the colour by a distinction of reason2 that is1 we consider the figure and colour together1 since they are1 in effect1 the same and undistinguishable2 but still view them in different aspects1 according to the resemblances of which they are susceptible4 ,when we would consider only the figure of the globe of white marble1 we form in reality an idea both of the figure and colour1 but tacitly carry our eye to its resemblance with the globe of black marble3 and in the same manner1 when we would consider its colour only1 we turn our view to its resemblance with the cube of white marble4 ,by this means we accompany our ideas with a kind of reflection1 of which custom renders us1 in a great measure1 insensible4 ,a person who desires us to consider the figure of a globe of white marble without thinking on its colour1 desires an impossibility2 but his meaning is1 that we should consider the colour and figure together1 but still keep in our eye the resemblance to the globe of black marble1 or that to any other globe of whatever colour or substance4 #c ,dr ,berkeley4 #d ',tis evident1 that even different simple ideas may have a similarity or resemblance to each other2 nor is it necessary1 that the point or circumstance of resemblance should be distinct or separable from that in which they differ4 ,blue and green are different simple ideas1 but are more resembling than blue and scarlet2 though their perfect simplicity excludes all possibility of separation or distinction4 ',tis the same case with particular sounds1 and tastes1 and smells4 ,these admit of infinite resemblances upon the general appearance and comparison1 without having any common circumstance the same4 ,and of this we may be certain1 even from the very abstract terms simple idea4 ,they comprehend all simple ideas under them4 ,these resemble each other in their simplicity4 ,and yet from their very nature1 which excludes all composition1 this circumstance1 in which they resemble1 is not distinguishable or separable from the rest4 ',tis the same case with all the degrees in any quality4 ,they are all resembling1 and yet the quality1 in any individual1 is not distinct from the degree4 ,,part ,,ii4 ,,of ,,the ,,ideas ,,of ,,space ,,and ,,time4 ,,section ,i4 ,,of ,,the ,,infinite ,,divisibility ,,of ,,our ,,ideas ,,of ,,space ,,and ,,time4 ,whatever has the air of a paradox1 and is contrary to the first and most unprejudiced notions of mankind1 is often greedily embraced by philosophers1 as showing the superiority of their science1 which could discover opinions so remote from vulgar conception4 ,on the other hand1 any thing proposed to us1 which causes surprise and admiration1 gives such a satisfaction to the mind1 that it indulges itself in those agreeable emotions1 and will never be persuaded that its pleasure is entirely without foundation4 ,from these dispositions in philosophers and their disciples1 arises that mutual complaisance betwixt them2 while the former furnish such plenty of strange and unaccountable opinions1 and the latter so readily believe them4 ,of this mutual complaisance ,i cannot give a more evident instance than in the doctrine of infinite divisibility1 with the examination of which ,i shall begin this subject of the ideas of space and time4 ',tis universally allowed1 that the capacity of the mind is limited1 and can never attain a full and adequate conception of infinity3 and though it were not allowed1 'twould be sufficiently evident from the plainest observation and experience4 ',tis also obvious1 that whatever is capable of being divided in infinitum1 must consist of an infinite number of parts1 and that 'tis impossible to set any bounds to the number of parts without setting bounds at the same time to the division4 ,it requires scarce any induction to conclude from hence1 that the idea1 which we form of any finite quality1 is not infinitely divisible1 but that by proper distinctions and separations we may run up this idea to inferior ones1 which will be perfectly simple and indivisible4 ,in rejecting the infinite capacity of the mind1 we suppose it may arrive at an end in the division of its ideas2 nor are there any possible means of evading the evidence of this conclusion4 ',tis therefore certain1 that the imagination reaches a minimum1 and may raise up to itself an idea1 of which it cannot conceive any subdivision1 and which cannot be diminished without a total annihilation4 ,when you tell me of the thousandth and ten thousandth part of a grain of sand1 ,i have a distinct idea of these numbers and of their different proportions2 but the images which ,i form in my mind to represent the things themselves1 are nothing different from each other1 nor inferior to that image1 by which ,i represent the grain of sand itself1 which is supposed so vastly to exceed them4 ,what consists of parts is distinguishable into them1 and what is distinguishable is separable4 ,but1 whatever we may imagine of the thing1 the idea of a grain of sand is not distinguishable nor separable into twenty1 much less into a thousand1 ten thousand1 or an infinite number of different ideas4 ',tis the same case with the impressions of the senses as with the ideas of the imagination4 ,put a spot of ink upon paper1 fix your eye upon that spot1 and retire to such a distance that at last you lose sight of it2 'tis plain1 that the moment before it vanished1 the image1 or impression1 was perfectly indivisible4 ',tis not for want of rays of light striking on our eyes1 that the minute parts of distant bodies convey not any sensible impression2 but because they are removed beyond that distance1 at which their impressions were reduced to a minimum1 and were incapable of any farther diminution4 ,a microscope or telescope1 which renders them visible1 produces not any new rays of light1 but only spreads those which always flowed from them2 and1 by that means1 both gives parts to impressions1 which to the naked eye appear simple and uncompounded1 and advances to a minimum what was formerly imperceptible4 ,we may hence discover the error of the common opinion1 that the capacity of the mind is limited on both sides1 and that 'tis impossible for the imagination to form an adequate idea of what goes beyond a certain degree of minuteness as well as of greatness4 ,nothing can be more minute than some ideas which we form in the fancy1 and images which appear to the senses2 since there are ideas and images perfectly simple and indivisible4 ,the only defect of our senses is1 that they give us disproportioned images of things1 and represent as minute and uncompounded what is really great and composed of a vast number of parts4 ,this mistake we are not sensible of2 but1 taking the impressions of those minute objects1 which appear to the senses to be equal1 or nearly equal to the objects1 and finding1 by reason1 that there are other objects vastly more minute1 we too hastily conclude1 that these are inferior to any idea of our imagination or impression of our senses4 ,this1 however1 is certain1 that we can form ideas1 which shall be no greater than the smallest atom of the animal spirits of an insect a thousand times less than a mite3 and we ought rather to conclude1 that the difficulty lies in enlarging our conceptions so much as to form a just notion of a mite1 or even of an insect a thousand times less than a mite4 ,for1 in order to form a just notion of these animals1 we must have a distinct idea representing every part of them2 which1 according to the system of infinite divisibility1 is utterly impossible1 and according to that of indivisible parts or atoms1 is extremely difficult1 by reason of the vast number and multiplicity of these parts4 ,,section ,,ii4 ,,of ,,the ,,infinite ,,divisibility ,,of ,,space ,,and ,,time4 ,wherever ideas are adequate representations of objects1 the relations1 contradictions1 and agreements of the ideas are all applicable to the objects2 and this we may1 in general1 observe to be the foundation of all human knowledge4 ,but our ideas are adequate representations of the most minute parts of extension2 and1 through whatever divisions and subdivisions we may suppose these parts to be arrived at1 they can never become inferior to some ideas which we form4 ,the plain consequence is1 that whatever appears impossible and contradictory upon the comparison of these ideas1 must be really impossible and contradictory1 without any farther excuse or evasion4 ,every thing capable of being infinitely divided contains an infinite number of parts2 otherwise the division would be stopped short by the indivisible parts1 which we should immediately arrive at4 ,if therefore any finite extension be infinitely divisible1 it can be no contradiction to suppose1 that a finite extension contains an infinite number of parts3 and vice versa1 if it be a contradiction to suppose1 that a finite extension contains an infinite number of parts1 no finite extension can be infinitely divisible4 ,but that this latter supposition is absurd1 ,i easily convince myself by the consideration of my clear ideas4 ,i first take the least idea ,i can form of a part of extension1 and being certain that there is nothing more minute than this idea1 ,i conclude1 that whatever ,i discover by its means1 must be a real quality of extension4 ,i then repeat this idea once1 twice1 thrice1 c4 and find the compound idea of extension1 arising from its repetition1 always to augment1 and become double1 triple1 quadruple1 c4 till at last it swells up to a considerable bulk1 greater or smaller1 in proportion as ,i repeat more or less the same idea4 ,when ,i stop in the addition of parts1 the idea of extension ceases to augment2 and were ,i to carry on the addition in infinitum1 ,i clearly perceive1 that the idea of extension must also become infinite4 ,upon the whole1 ,i conclude1 that the idea of an infinite number of parts is individually the same idea with that of an infinite extension2 that no finite extension is capable of containing an infinite number of parts2 and1 consequently1 that no finite extension is infinitely divisible4#a ,i may subjoin another argument proposed by a noted author1#b which seems to me very strong and beautiful4 ',tis evident1 that existence in itself belongs only to unity1 and is never applicable to number1 but on account of the unites of which the number is composed4 ,twenty men may be said to exist2 but 'tis only because one1 two1 three1 four1 c4 are existent2 and if you deny the existence of the latter1 that of the former falls of course4 ',tis therefore utterly absurd to suppose any number to exist1 and yet deny the existence of unites2 and as extension is always a number1 according to the common sentiment of metaphysicians1 and never resolves itself into any unite or indivisible quantity1 it follows that extension can never at all exist4 ',tis in vain to reply1 that any determinate quantity of extension is an unite2 but such a one as admits of an infinite number of fractions1 and is inexhaustible in its subdivisions4 ,for by the same rule1 these twenty men may be considered as an unite4 ,the whole globe of the earth1 nay1 the whole universe may be considered as an unite4 ,that term of unity is merely a fictitious denomination1 which the mind may apply to any quantity of objects it collects together2 nor can such an unity any more exist alone than number can1 as being in reality a true number4 ,but the unity1 which can exist alone1 and whose existence is necessary to that of all number1 is of another kind1 and must be perfectly indivisible1 and incapable of being resolved into any lesser unity4 ,all this reasoning takes place with regard to time2 along with an additional argument1 which it may be proper to take notice of4 ',tis a property inseparable from time1 and which in a manner constitutes its essence1 that each of its parts succeeds another1 and that none of them1 however contiguous1 can ever be co-existent4 ,for the same reason that the year #agcg cannot concur with the present year #agch1 every moment must be distinct from1 and posterior or antecedent to another4 ',tis certain then1 that time1 as it exists1 must be composed of indivisible moments4 ,for if in time we could never arrive at an end of division1 and if each moment1 as it succeeds another1 were not perfectly single and indivisible1 there would be an infinite number of co-existent moments1 or parts of time2 which ,i believe will be allowed to be an arrant contradiction4 ,the infinite divisibility of space implies that of time1 as is evident from the nature of motion4 ,if the latter1 therefore1 be impossible1 the former must be equally so4 ,i doubt not but it will readily be allowed by the most obstinate defender of the doctrine of infinite divisibility1 that these arguments are difficulties1 and that 'tis impossible to give any answer to them which will be perfectly clear and satisfactory4 ,but here we may observe1 that nothing can be more absurd than this custom of calling a difficulty what pretends to be a demonstration1 and endeavouring by that means to elude its force and evidence4 ',tis not in demonstrations1 as in probabilities1 that difficulties can take place1 and one argument counterbalance another1 and diminish its authority4 ,a demonstration1 if just1 admits of no opposite difficulty2 and if not just1 'tis a mere sophism1 and consequently can never be a difficulty4 ',tis either irresistible1 or has no manner of force4 ,to talk therefore of objections and replies1 and balancing of arguments in such a question as this1 is to confess1 either that human reason is nothing but a play of words1 or that the person himself1 who talks so1 has not a capacity equal to such subjects4 ,demonstrations may be difficult to be comprehended1 because of the abstractedness of the subject2 but can never have any such difficulties as will weaken their authority1 when once they are comprehended4 ',tis true1 mathematicians are wont to say1 that there are here equally strong arguments on the other side of the question1 and that the doctrine of indivisible points is also liable to unanswerable objections4 ,before ,i examine these arguments and objections in detail1 ,i will here take them in a body1 and endeavour1 by a short and decisive reason1 to prove1 at once1 that 'tis utterly impossible they can have any just foundation4 ',tis an established maxim in metaphysics1 ,that whatever the mind clearly conceives includes the idea of possible existence1 or1 in other words1 that nothing we imagine is absolutely impossible4 ,we can form the idea of a golden mountain1 and from thence conclude1 that such a mountain may actually exist4 ,we can form no idea of a mountain without a valley1 and therefore regard it as impossible4 ,now 'tis certain we have an idea of extension2 for otherwise1 why do we talk and reason concerning it8 ',tis likewise certain1 that this idea1 as conceived by the imagination1 though divisible into parts or inferior ideas1 is not infinitely divisible1 nor consists of an infinite number of parts3 for that exceeds the comprehension of our limited capacities4 ,here then is an idea of extension1 which consists of parts or inferior ideas1 that are perfectly indivisible3 consequently this idea implies no contradiction3 consequently 'tis possible for extension really to exist conformable to it3 and consequently1 all the arguments employed against the possibility of mathematical points are mere scholastic quibbles1 and unworthy of our attention4 ,these consequences we may carry one step farther1 and conclude that all the pretended demonstrations for the infinite divisibility of extension are equally sophistical2 since 'tis certain these demonstrations cannot be just without proving the impossibility of mathematical points2 which 'tis an evident absurdity to pretend to4 #a ,it has been objected to me1 that infinite divisibility supposes only an infinite number of proportional not of aliquot parts1 and that an infinite number of proportional parts does not form an infinite extension4 ,but this distinction is entirely frivolous4 ,whether these parts be called aliquot or proportional1 they cannot be inferior to those minute parts we conceive2 and therefore1 cannot form a less extension by their conjunction4 #b ,mons4 ,malezieu4 ,,section ,,iii4 ,,of ,,the ,,other ,,qualities ,,of ,,our ,,ideas ,,of ,,space ,,and ,,time4 ,no discovery could have been made more happily for deciding all controversies concerning ideas1 than that above mentioned1 that impressions always take the precedency of them1 and that every idea1 with which the imagination is furnished1 first makes its appearance in a correspondent impression4 ,these latter perceptions are all so clear and evident1 that they admit of no controversy2 though many of our ideas are so obscure1 that 'tis almost impossible even for the mind1 which forms them1 to tell exactly their nature and composition4 ,let us apply this principle1 in order to discover farther the nature of our ideas of space and time4 ,upon opening my eyes and turning them to the surrounding objects1 ,i perceive many visible bodies2 and upon shutting them again1 and considering the distance betwixt these bodies1 ,i acquire the idea of extension4 ,as every idea is derived from some impression which is exactly similar to it1 the impressions similar to this idea of extension1 must either be some sensations derived from the sight1 or some internal impressions arising from these sensations4 ,our internal impressions are our passions1 emotions1 desires1 and aversions2 none of which1 ,i believe1 will ever be asserted to be the model from which the idea of space is derived4 ,there remains1 therefore1 nothing but the senses which can convey to us this original impression4 ,now1 what impression do our senses here convey to us8 ,this is the principal question1 and decides without appeal concerning the nature of the idea4 ,the table before me is alone sufficient by its view to give me the idea of extension4 ,this idea1 then1 is borrowed from1 and represents some impression which this moment appears to the senses4 ,but my senses convey to me only the impressions of coloured points1 disposed in a certain manner4 ,if the eye is sensible of any thing farther1 ,i desire it may be pointed out to me4 ,but1 if it be impossible to shew any thing farther1 we may conclude with certainty1 that the idea of extension is nothing but a copy of these coloured points1 and of the manner of their appearance4 ,suppose that1 in the extended object1 or composition of coloured points1 from which we first received the idea of extension1 the points were of a purple colour2 it follows1 that in every repetition of that idea we would not only place the points in the same order with respect to each other1 but also bestow on them that precise colour with which alone we are acquainted4 ,but afterwards1 having experience of the other colours of violet1 green1 red1 white1 black1 and of all the different compositions of these1 and finding a resemblance in the disposition of coloured points1 of which they are composed1 we omit the peculiarities of colour1 as far as possible1 and found an abstract idea merely on that disposition of points1 or manner of appearance1 in which they agree4 ,nay1 even when the resemblance is carried beyond the objects of one sense1 and the impressions of touch are found to be similar to those of sight in the disposition of their parts2 this does not hinder the abstract idea from representing both1 upon account of their resemblance4 ,all abstract ideas are really nothing but particular ones1 considered in a certain light2 but being annexed to general terms1 they are able to represent a vast variety1 and to comprehend objects1 which1 as they are alike in some particulars1 are in others vastly wide of each other4 ,the idea of time1 being derived from the succession of our perceptions of every kind1 ideas as well as impressions1 and impressions of reflection as well as of sensation1 will afford us an instance of an abstract idea1 which comprehends a still greater variety than that of space1 and yet is represented in the fancy by some particular individual idea of a determined quantity and quality4 ,as 'tis from the disposition of visible and tangible objects we receive the idea of space1 so1 from the succession of ideas and impressions we form the idea of time2 nor is it possible for time alone ever to make its appearance1 or be taken notice of by the mind4 ,a man in a sound sleep1 or strongly occupied with one thought1 is insensible of time2 and according as his perceptions succeed each other with greater or less rapidity1 the same duration appears longer or shorter to his imagination4 ,it has been remarked by a great philosopher1#c that our perceptions have certain bounds in this particular1 which are fixed by the original nature and constitution of the mind1 and beyond which no influence of external objects on the senses is ever able to hasten or retard our thought4 ,if you wheel about a burning coal with rapidity1 it will present to the senses an image of a circle of fire2 nor will there seem to be any interval of time betwixt its revolutions2 merely because 'tis impossible for our perceptions to succeed each other1 with the same rapidity that motion may be communicated to external objects4 ,wherever we have no successive perceptions1 we have no notion of time1 even though there be a real succession in the objects4 ,from these phenomena1 as well as from many others1 we may conclude1 that time cannot make its appearance to the mind1 either alone or attended with a steady unchangeable object1 but is always discovered by some perceivable succession of changeable objects4 ,to confirm this we may add the following argument1 which to me seems perfectly decisive and convincing4 ',tis evident1 that time or duration consists of different parts3 for otherwise1 we could not conceive a longer or shorter duration4 ',tis also evident1 that these parts are not co-existent3 for that quality of the coexistence of parts belongs to extension1 and is what distinguishes it from duration4 ,now as time is composed of parts that are not co-existent1 an unchangeable object1 since it produces none but co-existent impressions1 produces none that can give us the idea of time2 and1 consequently1 that idea must be derived from a succession of changeable objects1 and time in its first appearance can never be severed from such a succession4 ,having therefore found1 that time in its first appearance to the mind is always conjoined with a succession of changeable objects1 and that otherwise it can never fall under our notice1 we must now examine1 whether it can be conceived without our conceiving any succession of objects1 and whether it can alone form a distinct idea in the imagination4 ,in order to know whether any objects1 which are joined in impression1 be separable in idea1 we need only consider if they be different from each other2 in which case1 'tis plain they may be conceived apart4 ,every thing that is different is distinguishable1 and every thing that is distinguishable may be separated1 according to the maxims above explained4 ,if1 on the contrary1 they be not different1 they are not distinguishable2 and if they be not distinguishable1 they cannot be separated4 ,but this is precisely the case with respect to time1 compared with our successive perceptions4 ,the idea of time is not derived from a particular impression mixed up with others1 and plainly distinguishable from them1 but arises altogether from the manner in which impressions appear to the mind1 without making one of the number4 ,five notes played on a flute give us the impression and idea of time1 though time be not a sixth impression which presents itself to the hearing or any other of the senses4 ,nor is it a sixth impression which the mind by reflection finds in itself4 ,these five sounds making their appearance in this particular manner1 excite no emotion in the mind1 nor produce an affection of any kind1 which being observed by it can give rise to a new idea4 ,for that is necessary to produce a new idea of reflection2 nor can the mind1 by revolving over a thousand times all its ideas of sensation1 ever extract from them any new original idea1 unless nature has so framed its faculties1 that it feels some new original impression arise from such a contemplation4 ,but here it only takes notice of the our the manner in which the different sounds make their appearance1 and that it may afterwards consider without considering these particular sounds1 but may conjoin it with any other objects4 ,the ideas of some objects it certainly must have1 nor is it possible for it without these ideas ever to arrive at any conception of time2 which1 since it appears not as any primary distinct impression1 can plainly be nothing but different ideas1 or impressions1 or objects disposed in a certain manner1 that is1 succeeding each other4 ,i know there are some who pretend that the idea of duration is applicable in a proper sense to objects which are perfectly unchangeable2 and this ,i take to be the common opinion of philosophers as well as of the vulgar4 ,but to be convinced of its falsehood1 we need but reflect on the foregoing conclusion1 that the idea of duration is always derived from a succession of changeable objects1 and can never be conveyed to the mind by any thing stedfast and unchangeable4 ,for it inevitably follows from thence1 that since the idea of duration cannot be derived from such an object1 it can never in any propriety or exactness be applied to it1 nor can any thing unchangeable be ever said to have duration4 ,ideas always represent the objects or impressions1 from which they are derived1 and can never1 without a fiction1 represent or be applied to any other4 ,by what fiction we apply the idea of time1 even to what is unchangeable1 and suppose1 as is common that duration is a measure of rest as well as of motion1 we shall consider afterwards4#d ,there is another very decisive argument1 which establishes the present doctrine concerning our ideas of space and time1 and is founded only on that simple principle1 that our ideas of them are compounded of parts1 which are indivisible4 ,this argument may be worth the examining4 ,every idea that is distinguishable being also separable1 let us take one of those simple indivisible ideas1 of which the compound one of extension is formed1 and separating it from all others1 and considering it apart1 let us form a judgment of its nature and qualities4 ',tis plain it is not the idea of extension3 for the idea of extension consists of parts2 and this idea1 according to the supposition1 is perfectly simple and indivisible4 ,is it therefore nothing8 ,that is absolutely impossible4 ,for as the compound idea of extension1 which is real1 is composed of such ideas1 were these so many nonentities there would be a real existence composed of nonentities1 which is absurd4 ,here1 therefore1 ,i must ask1 ,what is our idea of a simple and indivisible point8 ,no wonder if my answer appear somewhat new1 since the question itself has scarce ever yet been thought of4 ,we are wont to dispute concerning the nature of mathematical points1 but seldom concerning the nature of their ideas4 ,the idea of space is conveyed to the mind by two senses1 the sight and touch2 nor does any thing ever appear extended1 that is not either visible or tangible4 ,that compound impression1 which represents extension1 consists of several lesser impressions1 that are indivisible to the eye or feeling1 and may be called impressions of atoms or corpuscles endowed with colour and solidity4 ,but this is not all4 ',tis not only requisite that these atoms should be coloured or tangible1 in order to discover themselves to our senses1 'tis also necessary we should preserve the idea of their colour or tangibility1 in order to comprehend them by our imagination4 ,there is nothing but the idea of their colour or tangibility which can render them conceivable by the mind4 ,upon the removal of the ideas of these sensible qualities they are utterly annihilated to the thought or imagination4 ,now1 such as the parts are1 such is the whole4 ,if a point be not considered as coloured or tangible1 it can convey to us no idea2 and consequently the idea of extension1 which is composed of the ideas of these points1 can never possibly exist3 but if the idea of extension really can exist1 as we are conscious it does1 its parts must also exist2 and in order to that1 must be considered as coloured or tangible4 ,we have therefore no idea of space or extension1 but when we regard it as an object either of our sight or feeling4 ,the same reasoning will prove1 that the indivisible moments of time must be filled with some real object or existence1 whose succession forms the duration1 and makes it be conceivable by the mind4 #c ,mr ,locke4 #d ,sect4 #e4 ,,section ,,iv4 ,,objections ,,answered4 ,our system concerning space and time consists of two parts1 which are intimately connected together4 ,the first depends on this chain of reasoning4 ,the capacity of the mind is not infinite1 consequently no idea of extension or duration consists of an infinite number of parts or inferior ideas1 but of a finite number1 and these simple and indivisible3 'tis therefore possible for space and time to exist conformable to this idea3 and if it be possible1 'tis certain they actually do exist conformable to it1 since their infinite divisibility is utterly impossible and contradictory4 ,the other part of our system is a consequence of this4 ,the parts1 into which the ideas of space and time resolve themselves1 become at last indivisible2 and these indivisible parts1 being nothing in themselves1 are inconceivable when not filled with something real and existent4 ,the ideas of space and time are therefore no separate or distinct ideas1 but merely those of the manner or order in which objects exist2 or1 in other words1 'tis impossible to conceive either a vacuum and extension without matter1 or a time when there was no succession or change in any real existence4 ,the intimate connexion betwixt these parts of our system is the reason why we shall examine together the objections which have been urged against both of them1 beginning with those against the finite divisibility of extension4 ,i4 ,the first of these objections which ,i shall take notice of1 is more proper to prove this connexion and dependence of the one part upon the other than to destroy either of them4 ,it has often been maintained in the schools1 that extension must be divisible1 in infinitum1 because the system of mathematical points is absurd2 and that system is absurd1 because a mathematical point is a nonentity1 and consequently can never1 by its conjunction with others1 form a real existence4 ,this would be perfectly decisive1 were there no medium betwixt the infinite divisibility of matter1 and the nonentity of mathematical points4 ,but there is evidently a medium1 viz4 the bestowing a colour or solidity on these points2 and the absurdity of both the extremes is a demonstration of the truth and reality of this medium4 ,the system of physical points1 which is another medium1 is too absurd to need a refutation4 ,a real extension1 such as a physical point is supposed to be1 can never exist without parts different from each other2 and wherever objects are different1 they are distinguishable and separable by the imagination4 ,,ii4 ,the second objection is derived from the necessity there would be of penetration1 if extension consisted of mathematical points4 ,a simple and indivisible atom that touches another must necessarily penetrate it2 for 'tis impossible it can touch it by its external parts1 from the very supposition of its perfect simplicity1 which excludes all parts4 ,it must therefore touch it intimately1 and in its whole essence1 secundum se1 tota1 et totaliter2 which is the very definition of penetration4 ,but penetration is impossible3 mathematical points are of consequence equally impossible4 ,i answer this objection by substituting a juster idea of penetration4 ,suppose two bodies1 containing no void within their circumference1 to approach each other1 and to unite in such a manner that the body1 which results from their union1 is no more extended than either of them2 'tis this we must mean when we talk of penetration4 ,but 'tis evident this penetration is nothing but the annihilation of one of these bodies1 and the preservation of the other1 without our being able to distinguish particularly which is preserved and which annihilated4 ,before the approach we have the idea of two bodies2 after it we have the idea only of one4 ',tis impossible for the mind to preserve any notion of difference betwixt two bodies of the same nature existing in the same place at the same time4 ,taking then penetration in this sense1 for the annihilation of one body upon its approach to another1 ,i ask any one if he sees a necessity that a coloured or tangible point should be annihilated upon the approach of another coloured or tangible point8 ,on the contrary1 does he not evidently perceive1 that1 from the union of these points1 there results an object which is compounded and divisible1 and may be distinguished into two parts1 of which each preserves its existence1 distinct and separate1 notwithstanding its contiguity to the other8 ,let him aid his fancy by conceiving these points to be of different colours1 the better to prevent their coalition and confusion4 ,a blue and a red point may surely lie contiguous without any penetration or annihilation4 ,for if they cannot1 what possibly can become of them8 ,whether shall the red or the blue be annihilated8 ,or if these colours unite into one1 what new colour will they produce by their union8 ,what chiefly gives rise to these objections1 and at the same time renders it so difficult to give a satisfactory answer to them1 is the natural infirmity and unsteadiness both of our imagination and senses when employed on such minute objects4 ,put a spot of ink upon paper1 and retire to such a distance that the spot becomes altogether invisible1 you will find1 that1 upon your return and nearer approach1 the spot first becomes visible by short intervals1 and afterwards becomes always visible2 and afterwards acquires only a new force in its colouring1 without augmenting its bulk2 and afterwards1 when it has increased to such a degree as to be really extended1 'tis still difficult for the imagination to break it into its component parts1 because of the uneasiness it finds in the conception of such a minute object as a single point4 ,this infirmity affects most of our reasonings on the present subject1 and makes it almost impossible to answer in an intelligible manner1 and in proper expressions1 many questions which may arise concerning it4 ,,iii4 ,there have been many objections drawn from the mathematics against the indivisibility of the parts of extension1 though at first sight that science seems rather favourable to the present doctrine2 and if it be contrary in its demonstrations1'tis perfectly conformable in its definitions4 ,my present business then must be1 to defend the definitions and refute the demonstrations4 ,a surface is defined to be length and breadth without depth2 a line to be length without breadth or depth2 a point to be what has neither length1 breadth1 nor depth4 ',tis evident that all this is perfectly unintelligible upon any other supposition than that of the composition of extension by indivisible points or atoms4 ,how else could any thing exist without length1 without breadth1 or without depth8 ,two different answers1 ,i find1 have been made to this argument1 neither of which is1 in my opinion1 satisfactory4 ,the first is1 that the objects of geometry1 those surfaces1 lines1 and points1 whose proportions and positions it examines1 are mere ideas in the mind2 and not only never did1 but never can exist in nature4 ,they never did exist2 for no one will pretend to draw a line or make a surface entirely conformable to the definition3 they never can exist2 for we may produce demonstrations from these very ideas to prove that they are impossible4 ,but can any thing be imagined more absurd and contradictory than this reasoning8 ,whatever can be conceived by a clear and distinct idea1 necessarily implies the possibility of existence2 and he who pretends to prove the impossibility of its existence by any argument derived from the clear idea1 in reality asserts that we have no clear idea of it1 because we have a clear idea4 ',tis in vain to search for a contradiction in any thing that is distinctly conceived by the mind4 ,did it imply any contradiction1 'tis impossible it could ever be conceived4 ,there is therefore no medium betwixt allowing at least the possibility of indivisible points1 and denying their idea2 and 'tis on this latter principle that the second answer to the foregoing argument is founded4 ,it has been pretended1#e that though it be impossible to conceive a length without any breadth1 yet by an abstraction without a separation we can consider the one without regarding the other2 in the same manner as we may think of the length of the way betwixt two towns and overlook its breadth4 ,the length is inseparable from the breadth both in nature and in our minds2 but this excludes not a partial consideration1 and a distinction of reason1 after the manner above explained4 ,in refuting this answer ,i shall not insist on the argument1 which ,i have already sufficiently explained1 that if it be impossible for the mind to arrive at a minimum in its ideas1 its capacity must be infinite in order to comprehend the infinite number of parts1 of which its idea of any extension would be composed4 ,i shall here endeavour to find some new absurdities in this reasoning4 ,a surface terminates a solid2 a line terminates a surface2 a point terminates a line2 but ,i assert1 that if the ideas of a point1 line1 or surface1 were not indivisible1 'tis impossible we should ever conceive these terminations4 ,for let these ideas be supposed infinitely divisible1 and then let the fancy endeavour to fix itself on the idea of the last surface1 line1 or point1 it immediately finds this idea to break into parts2 and upon its seizing the last of these parts it loses its hold by a new division1 and so on in infinitum1 without any possibility of its arriving at a concluding idea4 ,the number of fractions bring it no nearer the last division than the first idea it formed4 ,every particle eludes the grasp by a new fraction1 like quicksilver1 when we endeavour to seize it4 ,but as in fact there must be something which terminates the idea of every finite quantity1 and as this terminating idea cannot itself consist of parts or inferior ideas1 otherwise it would be the last of its parts1 which finished the idea1 and so on2 this is a clear proof1 that the ideas of surfaces1 lines1 and points1 admit not of any division2 those of surfaces in depth1 of lines in breadth and depth1 and of points in any dimension4 ,the schoolmen were so sensible of the force of this argument1 that some of them maintained that nature has mixed among those particles of matter1 which are divisible in infinitum1 a number of mathematical points in order to give a termination to bodies2 and others eluded the force of this reasoning by a heap of unintelligible cavils and distinctions4 ,both these adversaries equally yield the victory4 ,a man who hides himself confesses as evidently the superiority of his enemy1 as another1 who fairly delivers his arms4 ,thus it appears1 that the definitions of mathematics destroy the pretended demonstrations2 and that if we have the idea of indivisible points1 lines1 and surfaces1 conformable to the definition1 their existence is certainly possible2 but if we have no such idea1 'tis impossible we can ever conceive the termination of any figure1 without which conception there can be no geometrical demonstration4 ,but ,i go farther1 and maintain1 that none of these demonstrations can have sufficient weight to establish such a principle as this of infinite divisibility2 and that because with regard to such minute objects1 they are not properly demonstrations1 being built on ideas which are not exact1 and maxims which are not precisely true4 ,when geometry decides any thing concerning the proportions of quantity1 we ought not to look for the utmost precision and exactness4 ,none of its proofs extend so far3 it takes the dimensions and proportions of figures justly2 but roughly1 and with some liberty4 ,its errors are never considerable1 nor would it err at all1 did it not aspire to such an absolute perfection4 ,i first ask mathematicians what they mean when they say one line or surface is equal to1 or greater1 or less than another8 ,let any of them give an answer1 to whatever sect he belongs1 and whether he maintains the composition of extension by indivisible points1 or by quantities divisible in infinitum4 ,this question will embarrass both of them4 ,there are few or no mathematicians who defend the hypothesis of indivisible points1 and yet these have the readiest and justest answer to the present question4 ,they need only reply1 that lines or surfaces are equal1 when the numbers of points in each are equal2 and that as the proportion of the numbers varies1 the proportion of the lines and surfaces is also varied4 ,but though this answer be just as well as obvious1 yet ,i may affirm1 that this standard of equality is entirely useless1 and that it never is from such a comparison we determine objects to be equal or unequal with respect to each other4 ,for as the points which enter into the composition of any line or surface1 whether perceived by the sight or touch1 are so minute and so confounded with each other that 'tis utterly impossible for the mind to compute their number1 such a computation will never afford us a standard1 by which we may judge of proportions4 ,no one will ever be able to determine by an exact enumeration1 that an inch has fewer points than a foot1 or a foot fewer than an ell1 or any greater measure2 for which reason1 we seldom or never consider this as the standard of equality or inequality4 ,as to those who imagine that extension is divisible in infinitum1 'tis impossible they can make use of this answer1 or fix the equality of any line or surface by a numeration of its component parts4 ,for since1 according to their hypothesis1 the least as well as greatest figures contain an infinite number of parts1 and since infinite numbers1 properly speaking1 can neither be equal nor unequal with respect to each other1 the equality or inequality of any portions of space can never depend on any proportion in the number of their parts4 ',tis true1 it may be said1 that the inequality of an ell and a yard consists in the different numbers of the feet of which they are composed1 and that of a foot and a yard in the number of inches4 ,but as that quantity we call an inch in the one is supposed equal to what we call an inch in the other1 and as 'tis impossible for the mind to find this equality by proceeding in infinitum with these references to inferior quantities1 'tis evident that at last we must fix some standard of equality different from an enumeration of the parts4 ,there are some who pretend1#f that equality is best defined by congruity1 and that any two figures are equal1 when upon the placing of one upon the other1 all their parts correspond to and touch each other4 ,in order to judge of this definition let us consider1 that 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 betwixt them4 ,if it consists therefore in this imaginary application and mutual contact of parts1 we must at least have a distinct notion of these parts1 and must conceive their contact4 ,now 'tis plain1 that in this conception1 we would run up these parts to the greatest minuteness which can possibly be conceived1 since the contact of large parts would never render the figures equal4 ,but the minutest parts we can conceive are mathematical points1 and consequently this standard of equality is the same with that derived from the equality of the number of points1 which we have already determined to be a just but an useless standard4 ,we must therefore look to some other quarter for a solution of the present difficulty4 ,there are many philosophers1 who refuse to assign any standard of equality1 but assert1 that 'tis sufficient to present two objects1 that are equal1 in order to give us a just notion of this proportion4 ,all definitions1 say they1 are fruitless without the perception of such objects2 and where we perceive such objects we no longer stand in need of any definition4 ,to this reasoning ,i entirely agree2 and assert1 that the only useful notion of equality1 or inequality1 is derived from the whole united appearance and the comparison of particular objects4 ',tis evident that the eye1 or rather the mind1 is often able at one view to determine the proportions of bodies1 and pronounce them equal to1 or greater or less than each other1 without examining or comparing the number of their minute parts4 ,such judgments are not only common1 but in many cases certain and infallible4 ,when the measure of a yard and that of a foot are presented1 the mind can no more question1 that the first is longer than the second1 than it can doubt of those principles which are the most clear and self-evident4 ,there are therefore three proportions1 which the mind distinguishes in the general appearance of its objects1 and calls by the names of greater1 less1 and equal4 ,but though its decisions concerning these proportions be sometimes infallible1 they are not always so2 nor are our judgments of this kind more exempt from doubt and error than those on any other subject4 ,we frequently correct our first opinion by a review and reflection2 and pronounce those objects to be equal1 which at first we esteemed unequal2 and regard an object as less1 though before it appeared greater than another4 ,nor is this the only correction which these judgments of our senses undergo2 but we often discover our error by a juxta-position of the objects2 or1 where that is impracticable1 by the use of some common and invariable measure1 which1 being successively applied to each1 informs us of their different proportions4 ,and even this correction is susceptible of a new correction1 and of different degrees of exactness1 according to the nature of the instrument by which we measure the bodies1 and the care which we employ in the comparison4 ,when therefore the mind is accustomed to these judgments and their corrections1 and finds that the same proportion which makes two figures have in the eye that appearance1 which we call equality1 makes them also correspond to each other1 and to any common measure with which they are compared1 we form a mixed notion of equality derived both from the looser and stricter methods of comparison4 ,but we are not content with this4 ,for as sound reason convinces us that there are bodies vastly more minute than those which appear to the senses2 and as a false reason would persuade us1 that there are bodies infinitely more minute1 we clearly perceive that we are not possessed of any instrument or art of measuring which can secure us from all error and uncertainty4 ,we are sensible that the addition or removal of one of these minute parts is not discernible either in the appearance or measuring2 and as we imagine that two figures1 which were equal before1 cannot be equal after this removal or addition1 we therefore suppose some imaginary standard of equality1 by which the appearances and measuring are exactly corrected1 and the figures reduced entirely to that proportion4 ,this standard is plainly imaginary4 ,for as the very idea of equality is that of such a particular appearance1 corrected by juxta-position or a common measure1 the notion of any correction beyond what we have instruments and art to make1 is a mere fiction of the mind1 and useless as well as incomprehensible4 ,but though this standard be only imaginary1 the fiction however is very natural2 nor is any thing more usual1 than for the mind to proceed after this manner with any action1 even after the reason has ceased1 which first determined it to begin4 ,this appears very conspicuously with regard to time2 where1 though 'tis evident we have no exact method of determining the proportions of parts1 not even so exact as in extension1 yet the various corrections of our measures1 and their different degrees of exactness1 have given us an obscure and implicit notion of a perfect and entire equality4 ,the case is the same in many other subjects4 ,a musician1 finding his ear become every day more delicate1 and correcting himself by reflection and attention1 proceeds with the same act of the mind even when the subject fails him1 and entertains a notion of a complete tierce or octave1 without being able to tell whence he derives his standard4 ,a painter forms the same fiction with regard to colours2 a mechanic with regard to motion4 ,to the one light and shade1 to the other swift and slow1 are imagined to be capable of an exact comparison and equality beyond the judgments of the senses4 ,we may apply the same reasoning to curve and right lines4 ,nothing is more apparent to the senses than the distinction betwixt a curve and a right line2 nor are there any ideas we more easily form than the ideas of these objects4 ,but however easily we may form these ideas1 'tis impossible to produce any definition of them1 which will fix the precise boundaries betwixt them4 ,when we draw lines upon paper or any continued surface1 there is a certain order by which the lines run along from one point to another1 that they may produce the entire impression of a curve or right line2 but this order is perfectly unknown1 and nothing is observed but the united appearance4 ,thus1 even upon the system of indivisible points1 we can only form a distant notion of some unknown standard to these objects4 ,upon that of infinite divisibility we cannot go even this length1 but are reduced merely to the general appearance1 as the rule by which we determine lines to be either curve or right ones4 ,but though we can give no perfect definition of these lines1 nor produce any very exact method of distinguishing the one from the other1 yet this hinders us not from correcting the first appearance by a more accurate consideration1 and by a comparison with some rule1 of whose rectitude1 from repeated trials1 we have a greater assurance4 ,and 'tis from these corrections1 and by carrying on the same action of the mind1 even when its reason fails us1 that we form the loose idea of a perfect standard to these figures1 without being able to explain or comprehend it4 ',tis true1 mathematicians pretend they give an exact definition of a right line when they say1 it is the shortest way betwixt two points4 ,but in the first place ,i observe1 that this is more properly the discovery of one of the properties of a right line1 than a just definition of it4 ,for ,i ask any one1 if1 upon mention of a right line1 he thinks not immediately on such a particular appearance1 and if 'tis not by accident only that he considers this property8 ,a right line can be comprehended alone2 but this definition is unintelligible without a comparison with other lines1 which we conceive to be more extended4 ,in common life 'tis established as a maxim1 that the straightest way is always the shortest2 which would be as absurd as to say1 the shortest way is always the shortest1 if our idea of a right line was not different from that of the shortest way betwixt two points4 ,secondly1 ,i repeat1 what ,i have already established1 that we have no precise idea of equality and inequality1 shorter and longer1 more than of a right line or a curve2 and consequently that the one can never afford us a perfect standard for the other4 ,an exact idea can never be built on such as are loose and undeterminate4 ,the idea of a plain surface is as little susceptible of a precise standard as that of a right line2 nor have we any other means of distinguishing such a surface1 than its general appearance4 ',tis in vain that mathematicians represent a plain surface as produced by the flowing of a right line4 ',twill immediately be objected1 that our idea of a surface is as independent of this method of forming a surface1 as our idea of an ellipse is of that of a cone2 that the idea of a right line is no more precise than that of a plain surface2 that a right line may flow irregularly1 and by that means form a figure quite different from a plane2 and that therefore we must suppose it to flow along two right lines1 parallel to each other1 and on the same plane2 which is a description that explains a thing by itself1 and returns in a circle4 ,it appears then1 that the ideas which are most essential to geometry1 viz4 those of equality and inequality1 of a right line and a plain surface1 are far from being exact and determinate1 according to our common method of conceiving them4 ,not only we are incapable of telling if the case be in any degree doubtful1 when such particular figures are equal2 when such a line is a right one1 and such a surface a plain one2 but we can form no idea of that proportion1 or of these figures1 which is firm and invariable4 ,our appeal is still to the weak and fallible judgment1 which we make from the appearance of the objects1 and correct by a compass1 or common measure2 and if we join the supposition of any farther correction1 'tis of such a one as is either useless or imaginary4 ,in vain should we have recourse to the common topic1 and employ the supposition of a ,deity1 whose omnipotence may enable him to form a perfect geometrical figure1 and describe a right line without any curve or inflection4 ,as the ultimate standard of these figures is derived from nothing but the senses and imagination1 'tis absurd to talk of any perfection beyond what these faculties can judge of2 since the true perfection of any thing consists in its conformity to its standard4 ,now1 since these ideas are so loose and uncertain1 ,i would fain ask any mathematician1 what infallible assurance he has1 not only of the more intricate and obscure propositions of his science1 but of the most vulgar and obvious principles8 ,how can he prove to me1 for instance1 that two right lines cannot have one common segment8 ,or that 'tis impossible to draw more than one right line betwixt any two points8 ,should he tell me1 that these opinions are obviously absurd1 and repugnant to our clear ideas2 ,i would answer1 that ,i do not deny1 where two right lines incline upon each other with a sensible angle1 but 'tis absurd to imagine them to have a common segment4 ,but supposing these two lines to approach at the rate of an inch in twenty leagues1 ,i perceive no absurdity in asserting1 that upon their contact they become one4 ,for1 ,i beseech you1 by what rule or standard do you judge1 when you assert that the line1 in which ,i have supposed them to concur1 cannot make the same right line with those two1 that form so small an angle betwixt them8 ,you must surely have some idea of a right line1 to which this line does not agree4 ,do you therefore mean1 that it takes not the points in the same order and by the same rule1 as is peculiar and essential to a right line8 ,if so1 ,i must inform you1 that besides that1 in judging after this manner1 you allow that extension is composed of indivisible points 7which1 perhaps1 is more than you intend71 besides this1 ,i say1 ,i must inform you1 that neither is this the standard from which we form the idea of a right line2 nor1 if it were1 is there any such firmness in our senses or imagination1 as to determine when such an order is violated or preserved4 ,the original standard of a right line is in reality nothing but a certain general appearance2 and 'tis evident right lines may be made to concur with each other1 and yet correspond to this standard1 though corrected by all the means either practicable or imaginable4 ,to whatever side mathematicians turn1 this dilemma still meets them4 ,if they judge of equality1 or any other proportion1 by the accurate and exact standard1 viz4 the enumeration of the minute indivisible parts1 they both employ a standard1 which is useless in practice1 and actually establish the indivisibility of extension1 which they endeavour to explode4 ,or if they employ1 as is usual1 the inaccurate standard1 derived from a comparison of objects1 upon their general appearance1 corrected by measuring and juxtaposition2 their first principles1 though certain and infallible1 are too coarse to afford any such subtile inferences as they commonly draw from them4 ,the first principles are founded on the imagination and senses2 the conclusion therefore can never go beyond1 much less contradict1 these faculties4 ,this may open our eyes a little1 and let us see1 that no geometrical demonstration for the infinite divisibility of extension can have so much force as what we naturally attribute to every argument1 which is supported by such magnificent pretensions4 ,at the same time we may learn the reason1 why geometry fails of evidence in this single point1 while all its other reasonings command our fullest assent and approbation4 ,and indeed it seems more requisite to give the reason of this exception1 than to show that we really must make such an exception1 and regard all the mathematical arguments for infinite divisibility as utterly sophistical4 ,for 'tis evident1 that as no idea of quantity is infinitely divisible1 there cannot be imagined a more glaring absurdity1 than to endeavour to prove1 that quantity itself admits of such a division2 and to prove this by means of ideas1 which are directly opposite in that particular4 ,and as this absurdity is very glaring in itself1 so there is no argument founded on it1 which is not attended with a new absurdity1 and involves not an evident contradiction4 ,i might give as instances those arguments for infinite divisibility1 which are derived from the point of contact4 ,i know there is no mathematician1 who will not refuse to be judged by the diagrams he describes upon paper1 these being loose draughts1 as he will tell us1 and serving only to convey with greater facility certain ideas1 which are the true foundation of all our reasoning4 ,this ,i am satisfied with1 and am willing to rest the controversy merely upon these ideas4 ,i desire therefore our mathematician to form1 as accurately as possible1 the ideas of a circle and a right line2 and ,i then ask1 if upon the conception of their contact he can conceive them as touching in a mathematical point1 or if he must necessarily imagine them to concur for some space4 ,whichever side he chooses1 he runs himself into equal difficulties4 ,if he affirms1 that in tracing these figures in his imagination1 he can imagine them to touch only in a point1 he allows the possibility of that idea1 and consequently of the thing4 ,if he says1 that in his conception of the contact of those lines he must make them concur1 he thereby acknowledges the fallacy of geometrical demonstrations1 when carried beyond a certain degree of minuteness2 since1 'tis certain he has such demonstrations against the concurrence of a circle and a right line2 that is1 in other words1 he can prove an idea1 viz4 that of concurrence1 to be incompatible with two other ideas1 viz4 those of a circle and right line2 though at the same time he acknowledges these ideas to be inseparable4 #e ,l',art de penser4 #f ,see ,dr ,barrow's ,mathematical ,lectures4 ,,section ,v4 ,,the ,,same ,,subject ,,continued4 ,if the second part of my system be true1 that the idea of space or extension is nothing but the idea of visible or tangible points distributed in a certain order1 it follows1 that we can form no idea of a vacuum1 or space1 where there is nothing visible or tangible4 ,this gives rise to three objections1 which ,i shall examine together1 because the answer ,i shall give to one is a consequence of that which ,i shall make use of for the others4 ,first1 it may be said1 that men have disputed for many ages concerning a vacuum and a plenum1 without being able to bring the affair to a final decision3 and philosophers1 even at this day1 think themselves at liberty to take party on either side1 as their fancy leads them4 ,but whatever foundation there may be for a controversy concerning the things themselves1 it may be pretended that the very dispute is decisive concerning the idea1 and that 'tis impossible men could so long reason about a vacuum1 and either refute or defend it1 without having a notion of what they refuted or defended4 ,secondly1 if this argument should be contested1 the reality1 or at least possibility1 of the idea of a vacuum1 may be proved by the following reasoning4 ,every idea is possible which is a necessary and infallible consequence of such as are possible4 ,now1 though we allow the world to be at present a plenum1 we may easily conceive it to be deprived of motion2 and this idea will certainly be allowed possible4 ,it must also be allowed possible1 to conceive the annihilation of any part of matter by the omnipotence of the ,deity1 while the other parts remain at rest4 ,for as every idea that is distinguishable is separable by the imagination1 and as every idea that is separable by the imagination may be conceived to be separately existent1 'tis evident1 that the existence of one particle of matter no more implies the existence of another1 than a square figure in one body implies a square figure in every one4 ,this being granted1 ,i now demand what results from the concurrence of these two possible ideas of rest and annihilation1 and what must we conceive to follow upon the annihilation of all the air and subtile matter in the chamber1 supposing the walls to remain the same1 without any motion or alteration8 ,there are some metaphysicians who answer1 that since matter and extension are the same1 the annihilation of the one necessarily implies that of the other2 and there being now no distance betwixt the walls of the chamber1 they touch each other2 in the same manner as my hand touches the paper which is immediately before me4 ,but though this answer be very common1 ,i defy these metaphysicians to conceive the matter according to their hypothesis1 or imagine the floor and roof1 with all the opposite sides of the chamber1 to touch each other1 while they continue in rest1 and preserve the same position4 ,for how can the two walls1 that run from south to north1 touch each other1 while they touch the opposite ends of two walls that run from east to west8 ,and how can the floor and roof ever meet1 while they are separated by the four walls that lie in a contrary position8 ,if you change their position1 you suppose a motion4 ,if you conceive any thing betwixt them1 you suppose a new creation4 ,but keeping strictly to the two ideas of rest and annihilation1 'tis evident1 that the idea which results from them is not that of a contact of parts1 but something else1 which is concluded to be the idea of a vacuum4 ,the third objection carries the matter still farther1 and not only asserts1 that the idea of a vacuum is real and possible1 but also necessary and unavoidable4 ,this assertion is founded on the motion we observe in bodies1 which1 'tis maintained1 would be impossible and inconceivable without a vacuum1 into which one body must move in order to make way for another4 ,i shall not enlarge upon this objection1 because it principally belongs to natural philosophy1 which lies without our present sphere4 ,in order to answer these objections1 we must take the matter pretty deep1 and consider the nature and origin of several ideas1 lest we dispute without understanding perfectly the subject of the controversy4 ',tis evident the idea of darkness is no positive idea1 but merely the negation of light1 or1 more properly speaking1 of coloured and visible objects4 ,a man who enjoys his sight1 receives no other perception from turning his eyes on every side1 when entirely deprived of light1 than what is common to him with one born blind2 and 'tis certain such a one has no idea either of light or darkness4 ,the consequence of this is1 that 'tis not from the mere removal of visible objects we receive the impression of extension without matter2 and that the idea of utter darkness can never be the same with that of vacuum4 ,suppose again a man to be supported in the air1 and to be softly conveyed along by some invisible power2 'tis evident he is sensible of nothing1 and never receives the idea of extension1 nor indeed any idea1 from this invariable motion4 ,even supposing he moves his limbs to and fro1 this cannot convey to him that idea4 ,he feels in that case a certain sensation or impression1 the parts of which are successive to each other1 and may give him the idea of time1 but certainly are not disposed in such a manner as is necessary to convey the idea of space or extension4 ,since1 then1 it appears that darkness and motion1 with the utter removal of every thing visible and tangible1 can never give us the idea of extension without matter1 or of a vacuum2 the next question is1 whether they can convey this idea1 when mixed with something visible and tangible8 ',tis commonly allowed by philosophers1 that all bodies which discover themselves to the eye1 appear as if painted on a plain surface1 and that their different degrees of remoteness from ourselves are discovered more by reason than by the senses4 ,when ,i hold up my hand before me1 and spread my fingers1 they are separated as perfectly by the blue colour of the firmament1 as they could be by any visible object which ,i could place betwixt them4 ,in order1 therefore1 to know whether the sight can convey the impression and idea of a vacuum1 we must suppose1 that amidst an entire darkness1 there are luminous bodies presented to us1 whose light discovers only these bodies themselves1 without giving us any impression of the surrounding objects4 ,we must form a parallel supposition concerning the objects of our feeling4 ',tis not proper to suppose a perfect removal of all tangible objects3 we must allow something to be perceived by the feeling2 and after an interval and motion of the hand or other organ of sensation1 another object of the touch to be met with2 and upon leaving that1 another2 and so on1 as often as we please4 ,the question is1 whether these intervals do not afford us the idea of extension without body4 ,to begin with the first case2 'tis evident1 that when only two luminous bodies appear to the eye1 we can perceive whether they be conjoined or separate2 whether they be separated by a great or small distance2 and if this distance varies1 we can perceive its increase or diminution1 with the motion of the bodies4 ,but as the distance is not in this case any thing coloured or visible1 it may be thought that there is here a vacuum or pure extension1 not only intelligible to the mind1 but obvious to the very senses4 ,this is our natural and most familiar way of thinking1 but which we shall learn to correct by a little reflection4 ,we may observe1 that when two bodies present themselves1 where there was formerly an entire darkness1 the only change that is discoverable is in the appearance of these two objects1 and that all the rest continues to be as before1 a perfect negation of light1 and of every coloured or visible object4 ,this is not only true of what may be said to be remote from these bodies1 but also of the very distance which is interposed betwixt them2 that being nothing but darkness1 or the negation of light2 without parts1 without composition1 invariable and indivisible4 ,now1 since this distance causes no perception different from what a blind man receives from his eyes1 or what is conveyed to us in the darkest night1 it must partake of the same properties2 and as blindness and darkness afford us no ideas of extension1 'tis impossible that the dark and undistinguishable distance betwixt two bodies can ever produce that idea4 ,the sole difference betwixt an absolute darkness and the appearance of two or more visible luminous objects consists1 as ,i said1 in the objects themselves1 and in the manner they affect our senses4 ,the angles1 which the rays of light flowing from them form with each other2 the motion that is required in the eye1 in its passage from one to the other2 and the different parts of the organs which are affected by them2 these produce the only perceptions from which we can judge of the distance4 ,but as these perceptions are each of them simple and indivisible1 they can never give us the idea of extension4 ,we may illustrate this by considering the sense of feeling1 and the imaginary distance or interval interposed betwixt tangible or solid objects4 ,i suppose two cases1 viz4 that of a man supported in the air1 and moving his limbs to and fro1 without meeting any thing tangible2 and that of a man1 who1 feeling something tangible1 leaves it1 and1 after a motion of which he is sensible1 perceives another tangible object2 and ,i then ask1 wherein consists the difference betwixt these two cases8 ,no one will make any scruple to affirm1 that it consists merely in the perceiving those objects1 and that the sensation1 which arises from the motion1 is in both cases the same2 and as that sensation is not capable of conveying to us an idea of extension1 when unaccompanied with some other perception1 it can no more give us that idea1 when mixed with the impressions of tangible objects1 since that mixture produces no alteration upon it4 ,but though motion and darkness1 either alone or attended with tangible and visible objects1 convey no idea of a vacuum or extension without matter1 yet they are the causes why we falsely imagine we can form such an idea4 ,for there is a close relation betwixt that motion and darkness1 and a real extension1 or composition of visible and tangible objects4 ,first1 we may observe1 that two visible objects1 appearing in the midst of utter darkness1 affect the senses in the same manner1 and form the same angle by the rays which flow from them1 and meet in the eye1 as if the distance betwixt them were filled with visible objects1 that give us a true idea of extension4 ,the sensation of motion is likewise the same1 when there is nothing tangible interposed betwixt two bodies1 as when we feel a compounded body1 whose different parts are placed beyond each other4 ,secondly1 we find by experience1 that two bodies1 which are so placed as to affect the senses in the same manner with two others1 that have a certain extent of visible objects interposed betwixt them1 are capable of receiving the same extent1 without any sensible impulse or penetration1 and without any change on that angle1 under which they appear to the senses4 ,in like manner1 where there is one object1 which we cannot feel after another without an interval1 and the perceiving of that sensation we call motion in our hand or organ of sensation2 experience shews us1 that 'tis possible the same object may be felt with the same sensation of motion1 along with the interposed impression of solid and tangible objects1 attending the sensation4 ,that is1 in other words1 an invisible and intangible distance may be converted into a visible and tangible one1 without any change on the distant objects4 ,thirdly1 we may observe1 as another relation betwixt these two kinds of distance1 that they have nearly the same effects on every natural phenomenon4 ,for as all qualities1 such as heat1 cold1 light1 attraction1 c4 diminish in proportion to the distance2 there is but little difference observed1 whether this distance be marked out by compounded and sensible objects1 or be known only by the manner in which the distant objects affect the senses4 ,here then are three relations betwixt that distance1 which conveys the idea of extension1 and that other1 which is not filled with any coloured or solid object4 ,the distant objects affect the senses in the same manner1 whether separated by the one distance or the other2 the second species of distance is found capable of receiving the first2 and they both equally diminish the force of every quality4 ,these relations betwixt the two kinds of distance1 will afford us an easy reason why the one has so often been taken for the other1 and why we imagine we have an idea of extension without the idea of any object either of the sight or feeling4 ,for we may establish it as a general maxim in this science of human nature1 that wherever there is a close relation betwixt two ideas1 the mind is very apt to mistake them1 and in all its discourses and reasonings to use the one for the other4 ,this phenomenon occurs on so many occasions1 and is of such consequence1 that ,i cannot forbear stopping a moment to examine its causes4 ,i shall only premise1 that we must distinguish exactly betwixt the phenomenon itself1 and the causes which ,i shall assign for it2 and must not imagine1 from any uncertainty in the latter1 that the former is also uncertain4 ,the phenomenon may be real1 though my explication be chimerical4 ,the falsehood of the one is no consequence of that of the other2 though at the same time we may observe1 that 'tis very natural for us to draw such a consequence2 which is an evident instance of that very principle1 which ,i endeavour to explain4 ,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 plausible1 which ,i might have displayed on that subject4 ',twould have been easy to have made an imaginary dissection of the brain1 and have shown1 why1 upon our conception of any idea1 the animal spirits run into all the contiguous traces1 and rouze up the other ideas that are related to it4 ,but though ,i have neglected any advantage1 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 a power of exciting any idea it pleases2 whenever it despatches the spirits into that region of the brain1 in which the idea is placed2 these spirits always excite the idea1 when they run precisely into the proper traces1 and rummage that cell1 which belongs to the idea4 ,but as their motion is seldom direct1 and naturally turns a little to the one side or 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 idea1 which is presented to us1 and employ it in our reasoning1 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 ,of the three relations above-mentioned that of resemblance is the most fertile source of error2 and indeed there are few mistakes in reasoning1 which do not borrow largely from that origin4 ,resembling ideas are not only related together1 but the actions of the mind1 which we employ in considering them1 are so little different1 that we are not able to distinguish them4 ,this last circumstance is of great consequence2 and we may in general observe1 that wherever the actions of the mind in forming any two ideas are the same or resembling1 we are very apt to confound these ideas1 and take the one for the other4 ,of this we shall see many instances in the progress of this treatise4 ,but though resemblance be the relation1 which most readily produces a mistake in ideas1 yet the others of causation and contiguity may also concur in the same influence4 ,we might produce the figures of poets and orators1 as sufficient proofs of this1 were it as usual as it is reasonable1 in metaphysical subjects1 to draw our arguments from that quarter4 ,but lest metaphysicians should esteem this below their dignity1 ,i shall borrow a proof from an observation1 which may be made on most of their own discourses1 viz4 that 'tis usual for men to use words for ideas1 and to talk instead of thinking in their reasonings4 ,we use words for ideas1 because they are commonly so closely connected1 that the mind easily mistakes them4 ,and this likewise is the reason1 why we substitute the idea of a distance1 which is not considered either as visible or tangible1 in the room of extension1 which is nothing but a composition of visible or tangible points disposed in a certain order4 ,in causing this mistake there concur both the relations of causation and resemblance4 ,as the first species of distance is found to be convertible into the second1 'tis in this respect a kind of cause2 and the similarity of their manner of affecting the senses1 and diminishing every quality1 forms the relation of resemblance4 ,after this chain of reasoning and explication of my principles1 ,i am now prepared to answer all the objections that have been offered1 whether derived from metaphysics or mechanics4 ,the frequent disputes concerning a vacuum1 or extension without matter1 prove not the reality of the idea1 upon which the dispute turns2 there being nothing more common1 than to see men deceive themselves in this particular2 especially when1 by means of any close relation1 there is another idea presented1 which may be the occasion of their mistake4 ,we may make almost the same answer to the second objection1 derived from the conjunction of the ideas of rest and annihilation4 ,when every thing is annihilated in the chamber1 and the walls continue immovable1 the chamber must be conceived much in the same manner as at present1 when the air that fills it is not an object of the senses4 ,this annihilation leaves to the eye that fictitious distance1 which is discovered by the different parts of the organ that are affected1 and by the degrees of light and shade2 and to the feeling1 that which consists in a sensation of motion in the hand1 or other member of the body4 ,in vain should we search any farther4 ,on whichever side we turn this subject1 we shall find that these are the only impressions such an object can produce after the supposed annihilation2 and it has already been remarked1 that impressions can give rise to no ideas1 but to such as resemble them4 ,since a body interposed betwixt two others may be supposed to be annihilated1 without producing any change upon such as lie on each hand of it1 'tis easily conceived1 how it may be created anew1 and yet produce as little alteration4 ,now the motion of a body has much the same effect as its creation4 ,the distant bodies are no more affected in the one case1 than in the other4 ,this suffices to satisfy the imagination1 and proves there is no repugnance in such a motion4 ,afterwards experience comes in play to persuade us that two bodies1 situated in the manner above described1 have really such a capacity of receiving body betwixt them1 and that there is no obstacle to the conversion of the invisible and intangible distance into one that is visible and tangible4 ,however natural that conversion may seem1 we cannot be sure it is practicable1 before we have had experience of it4 ,thus ,i seem to have answered the three objections above mentioned2 though at the same time ,i am sensible1 that few will be satisfied with these answers1 but will immediately propose new objections and difficulties4 ',twill probably be said1 that my reasoning makes nothing to the matter in hand1 and that ,i explain only the manner in which objects affect the senses1 without endeavouring to account for their real nature and operations4 ,though there be nothing visible or tangible interposed betwixt two bodies1 yet we find by experience1 that the bodies may be placed in the same manner1 with regard to the eye1 and require the same motion of the hand in passing from one to the other1 as if divided by something visible and tangible4 ,this invisible and intangible distance is also found by experience to contain a capacity of receiving body1 or of becoming visible and tangible4 ,here is the whole of my system2 and in no part of it have ,i endeavoured to explain the cause1 which separates bodies after this manner1 and gives them a capacity of receiving others betwixt them1 without any impulse or penetration4 ,i answer this objection1 by pleading guilty1 and by confessing that my intention never was to penetrate into the nature of bodies1 or explain the secret causes of their operations4 ,for1 besides that this belongs not to my present purpose1 ,i am afraid1 that such an enterprise is beyond the reach of human understanding1 and that we can never pretend to know body otherwise than by those external properties1 which discover themselves to the senses4 ,as to those who attempt any thing farther1 ,i cannot approve of their ambition1 till ,i see1 in some one instance at least1 that they have met with success4 ,but at present ,i content myself with knowing perfectly the manner in which objects affect my senses1 and their connexions with each other1 as far as experience informs me of them4 ,this suffices for the conduct of life2 and this also suffices for my philosophy1 which pretends only to explain the nature and causes of our perceptions1 or impressions and ideas4#g ,i shall conclude this subject of extension with a paradox1 which will easily be explained from the foregoing reasoning4 ,this paradox is1 that if you are pleased to give to the invisible and intangible distance1 or in other words1 to the capacity of becoming a visible and tangible distance1 the name of a vacuum1 extension and matter are the same1 and yet there is a vacuum4 ,if you will not give it that name1 motion is possible in a plenum1 without any impulse in infinitum1 without returning in a circle1 and without penetration4 ,but however we may express ourselves1 we must always confess1 that we have no idea of any real extension without filling it with sensible objects1 and conceiving its parts as visible or tangible4 ,as to the doctrine1 that time is nothing but the manner in which some real objects exist2 we may observe1 that 'tis liable to the same objections as the similar doctrine with regard to extension4 ,if it be a sufficient proof1 that we have the idea of a vacuum1 because we dispute and reason concerning it2 we must for the same reason have the idea of time without any changeable existence2 since there is no subject of dispute more frequent and common4 ,but that we really have no such idea1 is certain4 ,for whence should it be derived8 ,does it arise from an impression of sensation or of reflection8 ,point it out distinctly to us1 that we may know its nature and qualities4 ,but if you cannot point out any such impression1 you may be certain you are mistaken1 when you imagine you have any such idea4 ,but though it be impossible to show the impression1 from which the idea of time without a changeable existence is derived1 yet we can easily point out those appearances1 which make us fancy we have that idea4 ,for we may observe1 that there is a continual succession of perceptions in our mind2 so that the idea of time being for ever present with us1 when we consider a stedfast object at five o'clock1 and regard the same at six1 we are apt to apply to it that idea in the same manner as if every moment were distinguished by a different position1 or an alteration of the object4 ,the first and second appearances of the object1 being compared with the succession of our perceptions1 seem equally removed as if the object had really changed4 ,to which we may add1 what experience shows us1 that the object was susceptible of such a number of changes betwixt these appearances2 as also that the unchangeable or rather fictitious duration has the same effect upon every quality1 by increasing or diminishing it1 as that succession which is obvious to the senses4 ,from these three relations we are apt to confound our ideas1 and imagine we can form the idea of a time and duration1 without any change or succession4 #g ,as long as we confine our speculations to the appearances of objects to our senses1 without entering into disquisitions concerning their real nature and operations1 we are safe from all difficulties1 and can never be embarrassed by any question4 ,thus1 if it be asked1 if the invisible and intangible distance1 interposed betwixt two objects1 be something or nothing3 'tis easy to answer1 that it is something1 viz4 a property of the objects1 which affect the senses after such a particular manner4 ,if it be asked1 whether two objects1 having such a distance betwixt them1 touch or not3 it may be answered1 that this depends upon the definition of the word touch4 ,if objects be said to touch1 when there is nothing sensible interposed betwixt them1 these objects touch3 ,if objects be said to touch1 when their images strike contiguous parts of the eye1 and when the hand feels both objects successively1 without any interposed motion1 these objects do not touch4 ,the appearances of objects to our senses are all consistent2 and no difficulties can ever arise1 but from the obscurity of the terms we make use of4 ,if we carry our inquiry beyond the appearances of objects to the senses1 ,i am afraid1 that most of our conclusions will be full of scepticism and uncertainty4 ,thus1 if it be asked1 whether or not the invisible and intangible distance be always full of body1 or of something that by an improvement of our organs might become visible or tangible1 ,i must acknowledge1 that ,i find no very decisive arguments on either side3 though ,i am inclined to the contrary opinion1 as being more suitable to vulgar and popular notions4 ,if the ,newtonian philosophy be rightly understood1 it will be found to mean no more4 ,a vacuum is asserted2 that is1 bodies are said to be placed after such a manner as to receive bodies betwixt them1 without impulsion or penetration4 ,the real nature of this position of bodies is unknown4 ,we are only acquainted with its effects on the senses1 and its power of receiving body4 ,nothing is more suitable to that philosophy1 than a modest scepticism to a certain degree1 and a fair confession of ignorance in subjects that exceed all human capacity4 ,,section ,,vi4 ,,of ,,the ,,idea ,,of ,,existence1 ,,and ,,of ,,external ,,existence4 ,it may not be amiss1 before we leave this subject1 to explain the ideas of existence and of external existence2 which have their difficulties1 as well as the ideas of space and time4 ,by this means we shall be the better prepared for the examination of knowledge and probability1 when we understand perfectly all those particular ideas1 which may enter into our reasoning4 ,there is no impression nor idea of any kind1 of which we have any consciousness or memory1 that is not conceived as existent2 and 'tis evident that1 from this consciousness1 the most perfect idea and assurance of being is derived4 ,from hence we may form a dilemma1 the most clear and conclusive that can be imagined1 viz4 that since we never remember any idea or impression without attributing existence to it1 the idea of existence must either be derived from a distinct impression1 conjoined with every perception or object of our thought1 or must be the very same with the idea of the perception or object4 ,as this dilemma is an evident consequence of the principle1 that every idea arises from a similar impression1 so our decision betwixt the propositions of the dilemma is no more doubtful4 ,so far from there being any distinct impression attending every impression and every idea1 that ,i do not think there are any two distinct impressions which are inseparably conjoined4 ,though certain sensations may at one time be united1 we quickly find they admit of a separation1 and may be presented apart4 ,and thus1 though every impression and idea we remember be considered as existent1 the idea of existence is not derived from any particular impression4 ,the idea of existence1 then1 is the very same with the idea of what we conceive to be existent4 ,to reflect on any thing simply1 and to reflect on it as existent1 are nothing different from each other4 ,that idea1 when conjoined with the idea of any object1 makes no addition to it4 ,whatever we conceive1 we conceive to be existent4 ,any idea we please to form is the idea of a being2 and the idea of a being is any idea we please to form4 ,whoever opposes this1 must necessarily point out that distinct impression1 from which the idea of entity is derived1 and must prove1 that this impression is inseparable from every perception we believe to be existent4 ,this we may without hesitation conclude to be impossible4 ,our foregoing reasoning#h concerning the distinction of ideas without any real difference will not here serve us in any stead4 ,that kind of distinction is founded on the different resemblances1 which the same simple idea may have to several different ideas4 ,but no object can be presented resembling some object with respect to its existence1 and different from others in the same particular2 since every object that is presented1 must necessarily be existent4 ,a like reasoning will account for the idea of external existence4 ,we may observe1 that 'tis universally allowed by philosophers1 and is besides pretty obvious of itself1 that nothing is ever really present with the mind but its perceptions or impressions and ideas1 and that external objects become known to us only by those perceptions they occasion4 ,to hate1 to love1 to think1 to feel1 to see2 all this is nothing but to perceive4 ,now1 since nothing is ever present to the mind but perceptions1 and since all ideas are derived from something antecedently present to the mind2 it follows1 that 'tis impossible for us so much as to conceive or form an idea of any thing specifically different from ideas and impressions4 ,let us fix our attention out of ourselves as much as possible2 let us chase our imagination to the heavens1 or to the utmost limits of the universe2 we never really advance a step beyond ourselves1 nor can conceive any kind of existence1 but those perceptions1 which have appeared in that narrow compass4 ,this is the universe of the imagination1 nor have we any idea but what is there produced4 ,the farthest we can go towards a conception of external objects1 when supposed specifically different from our perceptions1 is to form a relative idea of them1 without pretending to comprehend the related objects4 ,generally speaking1 we do not suppose them specifically different2 but only attribute to them different relations1 connexions1 and durations4 ,but of this more fully hereafter4#i #h ,part ,i4 ,sect4 #g4 #i ,part ,,vi4 ,sect4 #b4 ,,part ,,iii4 ,,of ,,knowledge ,,and ,,probability4 ,,section ,i4 ,,of ,,knowledge4 ,there are seven different kinds of philosophical relation1#a viz4 resemblance1 identity1 relations of time and place1 proportion in quantity or number1 degrees in any quality1 contrariety1 and causation4 ,these relations may be divided into two classes2 into such as depend entirely on the ideas1 which we compare together1 and such as may be changed without any change in the ideas4 ',tis from the idea of a triangle1 that we discover the relation of equality1 which its three angles bear to two right ones2 and this relation is invariable1 as long as our idea remains the same4 ,on the contrary1 the relations of contiguity and distance betwixt two objects may be changed merely by an alteration of their place1 without any change on the objects themselves or on their ideas2 and the place depends on a hundred different accidents1 which cannot be foreseen by the mind4 ',tis the same case with identity and causation4 ,two objects1 though perfectly resembling each other1 and even appearing in the same place at different times1 may be numerically different3 and as the power1 by which one object produces another1 is never discoverable merely from their idea1 'tis evident cause and effect are relations1 of which we receive information from experience1 and not from any abstract reasoning or reflection4 ,there is no single phenomenon1 even the most simple1 which can be accounted for from the qualities of the objects1 as they appear to us2 or which we could foresee without the help of our memory and experience4 ,it appears therefore that of these seven philosophical relations1 there remain only four1 which depending solely upon ideas1 can be the objects of knowledge and certainty4 ,these four are resemblance1 contrariety1 degrees in quality1 and proportions in quantity or number4 ,three of these relations are discoverable at first sight1 and fall more properly under the province of intuition than demonstration4 ,when any objects resemble each other1 the resemblance will at first strike the eye1 or rather the mind2 and seldom requires a second examination4 ,the case is the same with contrariety1 and with the degrees of any quality4 ,no one can once doubt but existence and non-existence destroy each other1 and are perfectly incompatible and contrary4 ,and though it be impossible to judge exactly of the degrees of any quality1 such as colour1 taste1 heat1 cold1 when the difference betwixt them is very small2 yet 'tis easy to decide1 that any of them is superior or inferior to another1 when their difference is considerable4 ,and this decision we always pronounce at first sight1 without any inquiry or reasoning4 ,we might proceed1 after the same manner1 in fixing the proportions of quantity or number1 and might at one view observe a superiority or inferiority betwixt any numbers1 or figures2 especially where the difference is very great and remarkable4 ,as to equality or any exact proportion1 we can only guess at it from a single consideration2 except in very short numbers1 or very limited portions of extension2 which are comprehended in an instant1 and where we perceive an impossibility of falling into any considerable error4 ,in all other cases we must settle the proportions with some liberty1 or proceed in a more artificial manner4 ,i have already observed1 that geometry1 or the art by which we fix the proportions of figures2 though it much excels both in universality and exactness1 the loose judgments of the senses and imagination2 yet never attains a perfect precision and exactness4 ,its first principles are still drawn from the general appearance of the objects2 and that appearance can never afford us any security1 when we examine the prodigious minuteness of which nature is susceptible4 ,our ideas seem to give a perfect assurance1 that no two right lines can have a common segment2 but if we consider these ideas1 we shall find1 that they always suppose a sensible inclination of the two lines1 and that where the angle they form is extremely small1 we have no standard of a right line so precise as to assure us of the truth of this proposition4 ',tis the same case with most of the primary decisions of the mathematics4 ,there remain therefore algebra and arithmetic as the only sciences1 in which we can carry on a chain of reasoning to any degree of intricacy1 and yet preserve a perfect exactness and certainty4 ,we are possessed of a precise standard1 by which we can judge of the equality and proportion of numbers2 and according as they correspond or not to that standard1 we determine their relations1 without any possibility of error4 ,when two numbers are so combined1 as that the one has always an unite answering to every unite of the other1 we pronounce them equal2 and 'tis for want of such a standard of equality in extension1 that geometry can scarce be esteemed a perfect and infallible science4 ,but here it may not be amiss to obviate a difficulty1 which may arise from my asserting1 that though geometry falls short of that perfect precision and certainty1 which are peculiar to arithmetic and algebra1 yet it excels the imperfect judgments of our senses and imagination4 ,the reason why ,i impute any defect to geometry1 is1 because its original and fundamental principles are derived merely from appearances2 and it may perhaps be imagined1 that this defect must always attend it1 and keep it from ever reaching a greater exactness in the comparison of objects or ideas1 than what our eye or imagination alone is able to attain4 ,i own that this defect so far attends it1 as to keep it from ever aspiring to a full certainty3 but since these fundamental principles depend on the easiest and least deceitful appearances1 they bestow on their consequences a degree of exactness1 of which these consequences are singly incapable4 ',tis impossible for the eye to determine the angles of a chiliagon to be equal to #aiif right angles1 or make any conjecture1 that approaches this proportion2 but when it determines1 that right lines cannot concur2 that we cannot draw more than one right line between two given points2 its mistakes can never be of any consequence4 ,and this is the nature and use of geometry1 to run us up to such appearances1 as1 by reason of their simplicity1 cannot lead us into any considerable error4 ,i shall here take occasion to propose a second observation concerning our demonstrative reasonings1 which is suggested by the same subject of the mathematics4 ',tis usual with mathematicians to pretend1 that those ideas1 which are their objects1 are of so refined and spiritual a nature1 that they fall not under the conception of the fancy1 but must be comprehended by a pure and intellectual view1 of which the superior faculties of the soul are alone capable4 ,the same notion runs through most parts of philosophy1 and is principally made use of to explain our abstract ideas1 and to show how we can form an idea of a triangle1 for instance1 which shall neither be an isosceles nor scalenum1 nor be confined to any particular length and proportion of sides4 ',tis easy to see why philosophers are so fond of this notion of some spiritual and refined perceptions2 since by that means they cover many of their absurdities1 and may refuse to submit to the decisions of clear ideas1 by appealing to such as are obscure and uncertain4 ,but to destroy this artifice1 we need but reflect on that principle so oft insisted on1 that all our ideas are copied from out impressions4 ,for from thence we may immediately conclude1 that since all impressions are clear and precise1 the ideas1 which are copied from them1 must be of the same nature1 and can never1 but from our fault1 contain any thing so dark and intricate4 ,an idea is by its very nature weaker and fainter than an impression2 but being in every other respect the same1 cannot imply any very great mystery4 ,if its weakness render it obscure1 'tis our business to remedy that defect1 as much as possible1 by keeping the idea steady and precise2 and till we have done so1 'tis in vain to pretend to reasoning and philosophy4 #a ,part ,i4 ,sect4 #e4 ,,section ,,ii4 ,,of ,,probability1 ,,and ,,of ,,the ,,idea ,,of ,,cause ,,and ,,effect4 ,this is all ,i think necessary to observe concerning those four relations1 which are the foundation of science2 but as to the other three1 which depend not upon the idea1 and may be absent or present even while that remains the same1 'twill be proper to explain them more particularly4 ,these three relations are identity1 the situations in time and place1 and causation4 ,all kinds of reasoning consist in nothing but a comparison1 and a discovery of those relations1 either constant or inconstant1 which two or more objects bear to each other4 ,this comparison we may make1 either when both the objects are present to the senses1 or when neither of them is present1 or when only one4 ,when both the objects are present to the senses along with the relation1 we call this perception rather than reasoning2 nor is there in this case any exercise of the thought1 or any action1 properly speaking1 but a mere passive admission of the impressions through the organs of sensation4 ,according to this way of thinking1 we ought not to receive as reasoning any of the observations we may make concerning identity1 and the relations of time and place2 since in none of them the mind can go beyond what is immediately present to the senses1 either to discover the real existence or the relations of objects4 ',tis only causation1 which produces such a connexion1 as to give us assurance from the existence or action of one object1 that 'twas followed or preceded by any other existence or action2 nor can the other two relations ever be made use of in reasoning1 except so far as they either affect or are affected by it4 ,there is nothing in any objects to persuade us1 that they are either always remote or always contiguous2 and when from experience and observation we discover1 that their relation in this particular is invariable1 we always conclude there is some secret cause which separates or unites them4 ,the same reasoning extends to identity4 ,we readily suppose an object may continue individually the same1 though several times absent from and present to the senses2 and ascribe to it an identity1 notwithstanding the interruption of the perception1 whenever we conclude1 that if we had kept our eye or hand constantly upon it1 it would have conveyed an invariable and uninterrupted perception4 ,but this conclusion beyond the impressions of our senses can be founded only on the connexion of cause and effect2 nor can we otherwise have any security that the object is not changed upon us1 however much the new object may resemble that which was formerly present to the senses4 ,whenever we discover such a perfect resemblance1 we consider whether it be common in that species of objects2 whether possibly or probably any cause could operate in producing the change and resemblance2 and according as we determine concerning these causes and effects1 we form our judgment concerning the identity of the object4 ,here then it appears1 that of those three relations1 which depend not upon the mere ideas1 the only one that can be traced beyond our senses1 and informs us of existences and objects1 which we do not see or feel1 is causation4 ,this relation therefore we shall endeavour to explain fully before we leave the subject of the ,of the understanding4 ,to begin regularly1 we must consider the idea of causation1 and see from what origin it is derived4 ',tis impossible to reason justly1 without understanding perfectly the idea concerning which we reason2 and 'tis impossible perfectly to understand any idea1 without tracing it up to its origin1 and examining that primary impression1 from which it arises4 ,the examination of the impression bestows a clearness on the idea2 and the examination of the idea bestows a like clearness on all our reasoning4 ,let us therefore cast our eye on any two objects1 which we call cause and effect1 and turn them on all sides1 in order to find that impression1 which produces an idea of such prodigious consequence4 ,at first sight ,i perceive1 that ,i must not search for it in any of the particular qualities of the objects2 since1 whichever of these qualities ,i pitch on1 ,i find some object that is not possessed of it1 and yet falls under the denomination of cause or effect4 ,and indeed there is nothing existent1 either externally or internally1 which is not to be considered either as a cause or an effect2 though 'tis plain there is no one quality which universally belongs to all beings1 and gives them a title to that denomination4 ,the idea then of causation must be derived from some relation among objects2 and that relation we must now endeavour to discover4 ,i find in the first place1 that whatever objects are considered as causes or effects1 are contiguous2 and that nothing can operate in a time or place1 which is ever so little removed from those of its existence4 ,though distant objects may sometimes seem productive of each other1 they are commonly found upon examination to be linked by a chain of causes1 which are contiguous among themselves1 and to the distant objects2 and when in any particular instance we cannot discover this connexion1 we still presume it to exist4 ,we may therefore consider the relation of contiguity as essential to that of causation2 at least may suppose it such1 according to the general opinion1 till we can find a more proper occasion#b to clear up this matter1 by examining what objects are or are not susceptible of juxtaposition and conjunction4 ,the second relation ,i shall observe as essential to causes and effects1 is not so universally acknowledged1 but is liable to some controversy4 ',tis that of priority of time in the cause before the effect4 ,some pretend that 'tis not absolutely necessary a cause should precede its effect2 but that any object or action1 in the very first moment of its existence1 may exert its productive quality1 and give rise to another object or action1 perfectly cotemporary with itself4 ,but beside that experience in most instances seems to contradict this opinion1 we may establish the relation of priority by a kind of inference or reasoning4 ',tis an established maxim 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 ,now if any cause may be perfectly cotemporary with its effect1 'tis certain1 according to this maxim1 that they must all of them be so2 since any one of them1 which retards its operation for a single moment1 exerts not itself at that very individual time1 in which it might have operated2 and therefore is no proper cause4 ,the consequence of this would be no less than the destruction of that succession of causes1 which we observe in the world2 and indeed the utter annihilation of time4 ,for if one cause were cotemporary with its effect1 and this effect with its effect1 and so on1 'tis plain there would be no such thing as succession1 and all objects must be co-existent4 ,if this argument appear satisfactory1 'tis well4 ,if not1 ,i beg the reader to allow me the same liberty1 which ,i have used in the preceding case1 of supposing it such4 ,for he shall find1 that the affair is of no great importance4 ,having thus discovered or supposed the two relations of contiguity and succession to be essential to causes and effects1 ,i find ,i am stopped short1 and can proceed no farther in considering any single instance of cause and effect4 ,motion in one body is regarded upon impulse as the cause of motion in another4 ,when we consider these objects with the utmost attention1 we find only that the one body approaches the other2 and that the motion of it precedes that of the other1 but without any sensible interval4 ',tis in vain to rack ourselves with farther thought and reflection upon this subject4 ,we can go no farther in considering this particular instance4 ,should any one leave this instance1 and pretend to define a cause1 by saying it is something productive of another1 'tis evident he would say nothing4 ,for what does he mean by production8 ,can he give any definition of it1 that will not be the same with that of causation8 ,if he can1 ,i desire it maybe produced4 ,if he cannot1 he here runs in a circle1 and gives a synonymous term instead of a definition4 ,shall we then rest contented with these two relations of contiguity and succession1 as affording a complete idea of causation8 ,by no means4 ,an object may be contiguous and prior to another1 without being considered as its cause4 ,there is a necessary connexion to be taken into consideration2 and that relation is of much greater importance1 than any of the other two above mentioned4 ,here again ,i turn the object on all sides1 in order to discover the nature of this necessary connexion1 and find the impression1 or impressions1 from which its idea may be derived4 ,when ,i cast my eye on the known qualities of objects1 ,i immediately discover that the relation of cause and effect depends not in the least on them4 ,when ,i consider their relations1 ,i can find none but those of contiguity and succession2 which ,i have already regarded as imperfect and unsatisfactory4 ,shall the despair of success make me assert1 that ,i am here possessed of an idea1 which is not preceded by any similar impression8 ,this would be too strong a proof of levity and inconstancy2 since the contrary principle has been already so firmly established1 as to admit of no farther doubt2 at least1 till we have more fully examined the present difficulty4 ,we must therefore proceed like those who1 being in search of any thing that lies concealed from them1 and not finding it in the place they expected1 beat about all the neighbouring fields1 without any certain view or design1 in hopes their good fortune will at last guide them to what they search for4 ',tis necessary for us to leave the direct survey of this question concerning the nature of that necessary connexion1 which enters into our idea of cause and effect2 and endeavour to find some other questions1 the examination of which will perhaps afford a hint1 that may serve to clear up the present difficulty4 ,of these questions there occur two1 which ,i shall proceed to examine1 viz4 ,first1 for what reason we pronounce it necessary1 that every thing whose existence has a beginning1 should also have a cause8 ,secondly1 why we conclude1 that such particular causes must necessarily have such particular effects2 and what is the nature of that inference we draw from the one to the other1 and of the belief we repose in it8 ,i shall only observe before ,i proceed any farther1 that though the ideas of cause and effect be derived from the impressions of reflection as well as from those of sensation1 yet for brevity's sake1 ,i commonly mention only the latter as the origin of these ideas2 though ,i desire that1 whatever ,i say of them1 may also extend to the former4 ,passions are connected with their objects and with one another2 no less than external bodies are connected together4 ,the same relation then of cause and effect1 which belongs to one1 must be common to all of them4 #b ,part ,,iv4 ,sect #e4 ,,section ,,iii4 ,,why ,a ,,cause ,,is ,,always ,,necessary4 ,to begin with the first question concerning the necessity of a cause3 ',tis a general maxim in philosophy1 that whatever begins to exist1 must have a cause of existence4 ,this is commonly taken for granted in all reasonings1 without any proof given or demanded4 ',tis supposed to be founded on intuition1 and to be one of those maxims which1 though they may be denied with the lips1 'tis impossible for men in their hearts really to doubt of4 ,but if we examine this maxim by the idea of knowledge above explained1 we shall discover in it no mark of any such intuitive certainty2 but on the contrary shall find1 that 'tis of a nature quite foreign to that species of conviction4 ,all certainty arises from the comparison of ideas1 and from the discovery of such relations as are unalterable1 so long as the ideas continue the same4 ,these relations are resemblance1 proportions in quantity and number1 degrees of any quality1 and contrariety2 none of which are implied in this proposition1 ,whatever has a beginning has also a cause of existence4 ,that proposition therefore is not intuitively certain4 ,at least any one1 who would assert it to be intuitively certain1 must deny these to be the only infallible relations1 and must find some other relation of that kind to be implied in it2 which it will then be time enough to examine4 ,but here is an argument1 which proves at once1 that the foregoing proposition is neither intuitively nor demonstrably certain4 ,we can never demonstrate the necessity of a cause to every new existence1 or new modification of existence1 without showing at the same time the impossibility there is1 that any thing can ever begin to exist without some productive principle2 and where the latter proposition cannot be proved1 we must despair of ever being able to prove the former4 ,now that the latter proposition is utterly incapable of a demonstrative proof1 we may satisfy ourselves by considering1 that 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 moment1 and existent the next1 without conjoining to it the distinct idea of a cause or productive principle4 ,the separation therefore of the idea of a cause from that of a beginning of existence1 is plainly possible for the imagination2 and consequently the actual separation of these objects is so far possible1 that it implies no contradiction nor absurdity2 and is therefore incapable of being refuted by any reasoning from mere ideas1 without which 'tis impossible to demonstrate the necessity of a cause4 ,accordingly1 we shall find upon examination1 that every demonstration1 which has been produced for the necessity of a cause1 is fallacious and sophistical4 ,all the points of time and place1 say some philosophers1#c in which we can suppose any object to begin to exist1 are in themselves equal2 and unless there be some cause1 which is peculiar to one time and to one place1 and which by that means determines and fixes the existence1 it must remain in eternal suspense2 and the object can never begin to be1 for want of something to fix its beginning4 ,but ,i ask1 is there any more difficulty in supposing the time and place to be fixed without a cause1 than to suppose the existence to be determined in that manner6 ,the first question that occurs on this subject is always1 whether the object shall exist or not3 the next1 when and where it shall begin to exist4 ,if the removal of a cause be intuitively absurd in the one case1 it must be so in the other3 and if that absurdity be not clear without a proof in the one case1 it will equally require one in the other4 ,the absurdity then of the one supposition can never be a proof of that of the other2 since they are both upon the same footing1 and must stand or fall by the same reasoning4 ,the second argument1#d which ,i find used on this head1 labours under an equal difficulty4 ,every thing1 'tis said1 must have a cause2 for if any thing wanted a cause1 it would produce itself1 that is1 exist before it existed1 which is impossible4 ,but this reasoning is plainly unconclusive2 because it supposes that1 in our denial of a cause1 we still grant what we expressly deny1 viz4 that there must be a cause2 which therefore is taken to be the object itself2 and that1 no doubt1 is an evident contradiction4 ,but to say that any thing is produced1 or1 to express myself more properly1 comes into existence1 without a cause1 is not to affirm that 'tis itself its own cause2 but1 on the contrary1 in excluding all external causes1 excludes a fortiori the thing itself which is created4 ,an object that exists absolutely without any cause1 certainly is not its own cause2 and when you assert1 that the one follows from the other1 you suppose the very point in question1 and take it for granted1 that 'tis utterly impossible any thing can ever begin to exist without a cause1 but that1 upon the exclusion of one productive principle1 we must still have recourse to another4 ',tis exactly the same case with the third argument1#e which has been employed to demonstrate the necessity of a cause4 ,whatever is produced without any cause1 is produced by nothing2 or1 in other words1 has nothing for its cause4 ,but nothing can never be a cause1 no more than it can be something1 or equal to two right angles4 ,by the same intuition1 that we perceive nothing not to be equal to two right angles1 or not to be something1 we perceive1 that it can never be a cause2 and consequently must perceive1 that every object has a real cause of its existence4 ,i believe it will not be necessary to employ many words in showing the weakness of this argument1 after what ,i have said of the foregoing4 ,they are all of them founded on the same fallacy1 and are derived from the same turn of thought4 ',tis sufficient only to observe1 that when we exclude all causes we really do exclude them1 and neither suppose nothing nor the object itself to be the causes of the existence2 and consequently can draw no argument from the absurdity of these suppositions to prove the absurdity of that exclusion4 ,if every thing must have a cause1 it follows1 that1 upon the exclusion of other causes1 we must accept of the object itself or of nothing as causes4 ,but 'tis the very point in question1 whether every thing must have a cause or not2 and therefore1 according to all just reasoning1 it ought never to be taken for granted4 ,they are still more frivolous who say1 that every effect must have a cause1 because 'tis implied in the very idea of effect4 ,every effect necessarily presupposes a cause2 effect being a relative term1 of which cause is a correlative4 ,but this does not prove that every being must be preceded by a cause2 no more than it follows1 because every husband must have a wife1 that therefore every man must be married4 ,the true state of the question is1 whether every object which begins to exist1 must owe its existence to a cause2 and this ,i assert neither to be intuitively nor demonstratively certain1 and hope to have proved it sufficiently by the foregoing arguments4 ,since it is not from knowledge or any scientific reasoning1 that we derive the opinion of the necessity of a cause to every new production1 that opinion must necessarily arise from observation and experience4 ,the next question1 then1 should naturally be1 how experience gives rise to such a principle8 ,but as ,i find it will be more convenient to sink this question in the following1 why we conclude1 that such particular causes must necessarily have such particular effects1 and why we form an inference from one to another8 we shall make that the subject of our future inquiry4 ',twill1 perhaps1 be found in the end1 that the same answer will serve for both questions4 #c ,mr ,hobbes4 #d ,dr ,clarke and others4 #e ,mr ,locke4 ,,section ,,iv4 ,,of ,,the ,,component ,,parts ,,of ,,our ,,reasonings ,,concerning ,,cause ,,and ,,effect4 ,though the mind in its reasonings from causes or effects1 carries its view beyond those objects which it sees or remembers1 it must never lose sight of them entirely1 nor reason merely upon its own ideas1 without some mixture of impressions1 or at least of ideas of the memory1 which are equivalent to impressions4 ,when we infer effects from causes1 we must establish the existence of these causes2 which we have only two ways of doing1 either by an immediate perception of our memory or senses1 or by an inference from other causes2 which causes again we must ascertain in the same manner1 either by a present impression or by an inference from their causes1 and so on1 till we arrive at some object1 which we see or remember4 ',tis impossible for us to carry on our inferences in infinitum2 and the only thing that can stop them1 is an impression of the memory or senses1 beyond which there is no room for doubt or inquiry4 ,to give an instance of this1 we may choose any point of history1 and consider for what reason we either believe or reject it4 ,thus1 we believe that ,csar was killed in the senate-house on the ides of ,march1 and that because this fact is established on the unanimous testimony of historians1 who agree to assign this precise time and place to that event4 ,here are certain characters and letters present either to our memory or senses2 which characters we likewise remember to have been used as the signs of certain ideas3 and these ideas were either in the minds of such as were immediately present at that action1 and received the ideas directly from its existence2 or they were derived from the testimony of others1 and that again from another testimony1 by a visible gradation1 till we arrive at those who were eye-witnesses and spectators of the event4 ',tis obvious all this chain of argument or connexion of causes and effects1 is at first founded on those characters or letters1 which are seen or remembered1 and that without the authority either of the memory or senses1 our whole reasoning would be chimerical and without foundation4 ,every link of the chain would in that case hang upon another2 but there would not be any thing fixed to one end of it1 capable of sustaining the whole2 and consequently there would be no belief nor evidence4 ,and this actually is the case with all hypothetical arguments1 or reasonings upon a supposition2 there being in them neither any present impression1 nor belief of a real existence4 ,i need not observe1 that 'tis no just objection to the present doctrine1 that we can reason upon our past conclusions or principles1 without having recourse to those impressions1 from which they first arose4 ,for even supposing these impressions should be entirely effaced from the memory1 the conviction they produced may still remain2 and 'tis equally true1 that all reasonings concerning causes and effects are originally derived from some impression2 in the same manner1 as the assurance of a demonstration proceeds always from a comparison of ideas1 though it may continue after the comparison is forgot4 ,,section ,v4 ,,of ,,the ,,impressions ,,of ,,the ,,senses ,,and ,,memory4 ,in this kind of reasoning1 then1 from causation1 we employ materials1 which are of a mixed and heterogeneous nature1 and which1 however connected1 are yet essentially different from each other4 ,all our arguments concerning causes and effects consist both of an impression of the memory or senses1 and of the idea of that existence1 which produces the object of the impression1 or is produced by it4 ,here1 therefore1 we have three things to explain1 viz4 first1 the original impression4 ,secondly1 the transition to the idea of the connected cause or effect4 ,thirdly1 the nature and qualities of that idea4 ,as to those impressions1 which arise from the senses1 their ultimate cause is1 in my opinion1 perfectly inexplicable by human reason1 and 'twill always be impossible to decide with certainty1 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 being4 ,nor is such a question any way material to our present purpose4 ,we may draw inferences from the coherence of our perceptions1 whether they be true or false2 whether they represent nature justly1 or be mere illusions of the senses4 ,when we search for the characteristic1 which distinguishes the memory from the imagination1 we must immediately perceive1 that it cannot lie in the simple ideas it presents to us2 since both these faculties borrow their simple ideas from the impressions1 and can never go beyond these original perceptions4 ,these faculties are as little distinguished from each other by the arrangement of their complex ideas4 ,for1 though it be a peculiar property of the memory to preserve the original order and position of its ideas1 while the imagination transposes and changes them as it pleases2 yet this difference is not sufficient to distinguish them in their operation1 or make us know the one from the other2 it being impossible to recal the past impressions1 in order to compare them with our present ideas1 and see whether their arrangement be exactly similar4 ,since therefore the memory is known1 neither by the order of its complex ideas1 nor the nature of its simple ones2 it follows1 that the difference betwixt it and the imagination lies in its superior force and vivacity4 ,a man may indulge his fancy in feigning any past scene of adventures2 nor would there be any possibility of distinguishing this from a remembrance of a like kind1 were not the ideas of the imagination fainter and more obscure4 ,it frequently happens1 that when two men have been engaged in any scene of action1 the one shall remember it much better than the other1 and shall have all the difficulty in the world to make his companion recollect it4 ,he runs over several circumstances in vain2 mentions the time1 the place1 the company1 what was said1 what was done on all sides2 till at last he hits on some lucky circumstance1 that revives the whole1 and gives his friend a perfect memory of every thing4 ,here the person that forgets1 receives at first all the ideas from the discourse of the other1 with the same circumstances of time and place2 though he considers them as mere fictions of the imagination4 ,but as soon as the circumstance is mentioned that touches the memory1 the very same ideas now appear in a new light1 and have1 in a manner1 a different feeling from what they had before4 ,without any other alteration1 beside that of the feeling1 they become immediately ideas of the memory1 and are assented to4 ,since therefore the imagination can represent all the same objects that the memory can offer to us1 and since those faculties are only distinguished by the different feeling of the ideas they present1 it may be proper to consider what is the nature of that feeling4 ,and here ,i believe every one will readily agree with me1 that the ideas of the memory are more strong and lively than those of the fancy4 ,a painter1 who intended to represent a passion or emotion of any kind1 would endeavour to get a sight of a person actuated by a like emotion1 in order to enliven his ideas1 and give them a force and vivacity superior to what is found in those1 which are mere fictions of the imagination4 ,the more recent this memory is1 the clearer is the idea2 and when1 after a long interval1 he would return to the contemplation of his object1 he always finds its idea to be much decayed1 if not1 wholly obliterated4 ,we are frequently in doubt concerning the ideas of the memory1 as they become very weak and feeble2 and are at a loss to determine whether any image proceeds from the fancy or the memory1 when it is not drawn in such lively colours as distinguish that latter faculty4 ,i think ,i remember such an event1 says one2 but am not sure4 ,a long tract of time has almost worn it out of my memory1 and leaves me uncertain whether or not it be the pure offspring of my fancy4 ,and as an idea of the memory1 by losing its force and vivacity1 may degenerate to such a degree1 as to be taken for an idea of the imagination2 so1 on the other ,of hand1 an idea of the imagination may acquire such a and force and vivacity1 as to pass for an idea of the memory1 and counterfeit its effects on the belief and judgment4 ,this is noted in the case of liars2 who by the frequent repetition of their lies1 come at last to believe and remember them1 as realities2 custom and habit having1 in this case1 as in many others1 the same influence on the mind as nature1 and infixing the idea with equal force and vigour4 ,thus it appears1 that the belief or assent1 which always attends the memory and senses1 is nothing but the vivacity of those perceptions they present2 and that this alone distinguishes them from the imagination4 ,to believe is in this case to feel an immediate impression of the senses1 or a repetition of that impression in the memory4 ',tis merely the force and liveliness of the perception1 which constitutes the first act of the judgment1 and lays the foundation of that reasoning1 which we build upon it1 when we trace the relation of cause and effect4 ,,section ,,vi4 ,,of ,,the ,,inference ,,from ,,the ,,impression ,,to ,,the ,,idea4 ',tis easy to observe1 that in tracing this relation1 the inference we draw from cause to effect1 is not derived merely from a survey of these particular objects1 and from such a penetration into their essences as may discover the dependence of the one upon the other4 ,there is no object which implies the existence of any other1 if we consider these objects in themselves1 and never look beyond the ideas which we form of them4 ,such an inference would amount to knowledge1 and would imply the absolute contradiction and impossibility of conceiving any thing different4 ,but as all distinct ideas are separable1 'tis evident there can be no impossibility of that kind4 ,when we pass from a present impression to the idea of any object1 we might possibly have separated the idea from the impression1 and have substituted any other idea in its room4 ',tis therefore by experience only that we can infer the existence of one object from that of another4 ,the nature of experience is this4 ,we remember to have had frequent instances of the existence of one species of objects2 and also remember1 that the individuals of another species of objects have always attended them1 and have existed in a regular order of contiguity and succession with regard to them4 ,thus we remember to have seen that species of object we call fame1 and to have felt that species of sensation we call heat4 ,we likewise call to mind their constant conjunction in all past instances4 ,without any farther ceremony1 we call the one cause1 and the other effect1 and infer the existence of the one from that of the other4 ,in all those instances from which we learn the conjunction of particular causes and effects1 both the causes and effects have been perceived by the senses1 and are remembered3 but in all cases1 wherein we reason concerning them1 there is only one perceived or remembered1 and the other is supplied in conformity to our past experience4 ,thus1 in advancing1 we have insensibly discovered a new relation betwixt cause and effect when we least expected it1 and were entirely employed upon another subject4 ,this relation is their constant conjunction4 ,contiguity and succession are not sufficient to make us pronounce any two objects to be cause and effect1 unless we perceive that these two relations are preserved in several instances4 ,we may now see the advantage of quitting the direct survey of this relation1 in order to discover the nature of that necessary connexion which makes so essential a part of it4 ,there are hopes1 that by this means we may at last arrive at our proposed end2 though1 to tell the truth1 this new-discovered relation of a constant conjunction seems to advance us but very little in our way4 ,for it implies no more than this1 that like objects have always been placed in like relations of contiguity and succession2 and it seems evident1 at least at first sight1 that by this means we can never discover any new idea1 and can only multiply1 but not enlarge1 the objects of our mind4 ,it may be thought1 that what we learn not from one object1 we can never learn from a hundred1 which are all of the same kind1 and are perfectly resembling in every circumstance4 ,as our senses show us in one instance two bodies1 or motions1 or qualities in certain relations of succession and contiguity1 so our memory presents us only with a multitude of instances wherein we always find like bodies1 motions1 or qualities1 in like relations4 ,from the mere repetition of any past impression1 even to infinity1 there never will arise any new original idea1 such as that of a necessary connexion2 and the number of impressions has in this case no more effect than if we confined ourselves to one only4 ,but though this reasoning seems just and obvious1 yet1 as it would be folly to despair too soon1 we shall continue the thread of our discourse2 and having found1 that after the discovery of the constant conjunction of any objects1 we always draw an inference from one object to another1 we shall now examine the nature of that inference1 and of the transition from the impression to the idea4 ,perhaps 'twill appear in the end1 that the necessary connexion depends on the inference1 instead of the inference's depending on the necessary connexion4 ,since it appears1 that the transition from an impression present to the memory or senses to the idea of an object1 which we call cause or effect1 is founded on past experience1 and on our remembrance of their constant conjunction1 the next question is1 whether experience produces the idea by means of the understanding or imagination2 whether we are determined by reason to make the transition1 or by a certain association and relation of perceptions4 ,if reason determined us1 it would proceed upon that principle1 that instances1 of which we have had no experience1 must resemble those of which we have had experience1 and that the course of nature continues always uniformly the same4 ,in order1 therefore1 to clear up this matter1 let us consider all the arguments upon which such a proposition may be supposed to be founded2 and as these must be derived either from knowledge or probability1 let us cast our eye on each of these degrees of evidence1 and see whether they afford any just conclusion of this nature4 ,our foregoing method of reasoning will easily convince us1 that there can be no demonstrative arguments to prove1 that those instances of which we have had no experience resemble those of which we have had experience4 ,we can at least conceive a change in the course of nature2 which sufficiently proves that such a change is not absolutely impossible4 ,to form a clear idea of any thing is an undeniable argument for its possibility1 and is alone a refutation of any pretended demonstration against it4 ,probability1 as it discovers not the relations of ideas1 considered as such1 but only those of objects1 must in some respects be founded on the impressions of our memory and senses1 and in some respects on our ideas4 ,were there no mixture of any impression in our probable reasonings1 the conclusion would be entirely chimerical3 and were there no mixture of ideas1 the action of the mind1 in observing the relation1 would1 properly speaking1 be sensation1 not reasoning4 ',tis therefore necessary1 that in all probable reasonings there be something present to the mind1 either seen or remembered2 and that from this we infer something connected with it1 which is not seen nor remembered4 ,the only connexion or relation of objects1 which can lead us beyond the immediate impressions of our memory and senses1 is that of cause and effect2 and that because 'tis the only one1 on which we can found a just inference from one object to another4 ,the idea of cause and effect is derived from experience1 which informs us1 that such particular objects1 in all past instances1 have been constantly conjoined with each other3 and as an object similar to one of these is supposed to be immediately present in its impression1 we thence presume on the existence of one similar to its usual attendant4 ,according to this account of things1 which is1 ,i think1 in every point unquestionable1 probability is founded on the presumption of a resemblance betwixt those objects of which we have had experience1 and those of which we have had none2 and therefore 'tis impossible this presumption can arise from probability4 ,the same principle cannot be both the cause and effect of another2 and this is1 perhaps1 the only proposition concerning that relation1 which is either intuitively or demonstratively certain4 ,should any one think to elude this argument2 and without determining whether our reasoning on this subject be derived from demonstration or probability1 pretend that all conclusions from causes and effects are built on solid reasoning3 ,i can only desire that this reasoning may be produced1 in order to be exposed to our examination4 ,it may perhaps be said1 that after experience of the constant conjunction of certain objects1 we reason in the following manner4 ,such an object is always found to produce another4 ',tis impossible it could have this effect1 if it was not endowed with a power of production4 ,the power necessarily implies the effect2 and therefore there is a just foundation for drawing a conclusion from the existence of one object to that of its usual attendant4 ,the past production implies a power3 the power implies a new production3 and the new production is what we infer from the power and the past production4 ',twere easy for me to show the weakness of this reasoning1 were ,i willing to make use of those observations ,i have already made1 that the idea of production is the same with that of causation1 and that no existence certainly and demonstratively implies a power in any other object2 or were it proper to anticipate what ,i shall have occasion to remark afterwards concerning the idea we form of power and efficacy4 ,but as such a method of proceeding may seem either to weaken my system1 by resting one part of it on another1 or to breed a confusion in my reasoning1 ,i shall endeavour to maintain my present assertion without any such assistance4 ,it shall therefore be allowed for at moment1 that the production of one object by another in any one instance implies a power2 and that this power is connected with its effect4 ,but it having been already proved1 that the power lies not in the sensible qualities of the cause2 and there being nothing but the sensible qualities present to us2 ,i ask1 why in other instances you presume that the same power still exists1 merely upon the appearance of these qualities8 ,your appeal to past experience decides nothing in the present case2 and at the utmost can only prove1 that that very object1 which produced any other1 was at that very instant endowed with such a power2 but can never prove1 that the same power must continue in the same object or collection of sensible qualities2 much less1 that a like power is always conjoined with like sensible qualities4 ,should it be said1 that we have experience1 that the same power continues united with the same object1 and that like objects are endowed with like powers1 ,i would renew my question1 why from this experience we form any conclusion beyond those past instances1 of which we have had experience8 ,if you answer this question in the same manner as the preceding1 your answer gives still occasion to a new question of the same kind1 even in infinitum2 which clearly proves1 that the foregoing reasoning had no just foundation4 ,thus1 not only our reason fails us in the discovery of the ultimate connexion of causes and effects1 but even after experience has informed us of their constant conjunction1 'tis impossible for us to satisfy ourselves by our reason1 why we should extend that experience beyond those particular instances which have fallen under our observation4 ,we suppose1 but are never able to prove1 that there must be a resemblance betwixt those objects1 of which we have had experience1 and those which lie beyond the reach of our discovery4 ,we have already taken notice of certain relations1 which make us pass from one object to another1 even though there be no reason to determine us to that transition2 and this we may establish for a general rule1 that wherever the mind constantly and uniformly makes a transition without any reason1 it is influenced by these relations4 ,now1 this is exactly the present case4 ,reason can never show us the connexion of one object with another1 though aided by experience1 and the observation of their constant conjunction in all past instances4 ,when the mind therefore passes from the idea or impression of one object to the idea or belief of another1 it is not determined by reason1 but by certain principles1 which associate together the ideas of these objects1 and unite them in the imagination4 ,had ideas no more union in the fancy1 than objects seem to have to the understanding1 we could never draw any inference from causes to effects1 nor repose belief in any matter of fact4 ,the inference therefore depends solely on the union of ideas4 ,the principles of union among ideas1 ,i have reduced to three general ones1 and have asserted1 that the idea or impression of any object naturally introduces the idea of any other object1 that is resembling1 contiguous to1 or connected with it4 ,these principles ,i allow to be neither the infallible nor the sole causes of an union among ideas4 ,they are not the infallible causes4 ,for one may fix his attention during some time on any one object without looking farther4 ,they are not the sole causes4 ,for the thought has evidently a very irregular motion in running along its objects1 and may leap from the heavens to the earth1 from one end of the creation to the other1 without any certain method or order4 ,but though ,i allow this weakness in these three relations1 and this irregularity in the imagination2 yet ,i assert1 that the only general principles which associate ideas1 are resemblance1 contiguity1 and causation4 ,there is indeed a principle of union among ideas1 which at first sight may be esteemed different from any of these1 but will be found at the bottom to depend on the same origin4 ,when every individual of any species of objects is found by experience to be constantly united with an individual of another species1 the appearance of any new individual of either species naturally conveys the thought to its usual attendant4 ,thus1 because such a particular idea is commonly annexed to such a particular word1 nothing is required but the hearing of that word to produce the correspondent idea2 and 'twill scarce be possible for the mind1 by its utmost efforts1 to prevent that transition4 ,in this case it is not absolutely necessary1 that upon hearing such a particular sound1 we should reflect on any past experience1 and consider what idea has been usually connected with the sound4 ,the imagination of itself supplies the place of this reflection1 and is so accustomed to pass from the word to the idea1 that it interposes not a moment's delay betwixt the hearing of the one1 and the conception of the other4 ,but though ,i acknowledge this to be a true principle of association among ideas1 ,i assert it to be the very same with that betwixt the ideas of cause and effect1 and to be an essential part in all our reasonings from that relation4 ,we have no other notion of cause and effect1 but that of certain objects1 which have been always conjoined together1 and which in all past instances have been found inseparable4 ,we cannot penetrate into the reason of the conjunction4 ,we only observe the thing itself1 and always find that1 from the constant conjunction1 the objects acquire an union in the imagination4 ,when the impression of one becomes present to us1 we immediately form an idea of its usual attendant2 and consequently we may establish this as one part of the definition of an opinion or belief1 that 'tis an idea related to or associated with a present impression4 ,thus1 though causation be a philosophical relation1 as implying contiguity1 succession1 and constant conjunction1 yet 'tis only so far as it is a natural relation1 and produces an union among our ideas1 that we are able to reason upon it1 or draw any inference from it4 ,,section ,,vii4 ,,of ,,the ,,nature ,,of ,,the ,,idea ,,or ,,belief4 ,the idea of an object is an essential part of the belief of it1 but not the whole4 ,we conceive many things which we do not believe4 ,in order then to discover more fully the nature of belief1 or the qualities of those ideas we assent to1 let us weigh the following considerations4 ',tis evident1 that all reasonings from causes or effects terminate in conclusions concerning matter of fact2 that is1 concerning the existence of objects or of their qualities4 ',tis also evident1 that the idea of existence is nothing different from the idea of any object1 and that when after the simple conception of any thing we would conceive it as existent1 we in reality make no addition to or alteration on our first idea4 ,thus1 when we affirm that ,god is existent1 we simply form the idea of such a ,being as he is represented to us3 nor is the existence1 which we attribute to him1 conceived by a particular idea1 which we join to the idea of his other qualities1 and can again separate and distinguish from them4 ,but ,i go farther2 and1 not content with asserting1 that the conception of the existence of any object is no addition to the simple conception of it1 ,i likewise maintain1 that the belief of the existence joins no new ideas to those1 which compose the idea of the object4 ,when ,i think of ,god1 when ,i think of him as existent1 and when ,i believe him to be existent1 my idea of him neither increases nor diminishes4 ,but as 'tis certain there is a great difference betwixt the simple conception of the existence of an object1 and the belief of it1 and as this difference lies not in the parts or composition of the idea which we conceive2 it follows1 that it must lie in the manner in which we conceive it4 ,suppose a person present with me1 who advances propositions1 to which ,i do not assent1 that ,csar died in his bed1 that silver is more fusible than lead1 or mercury heavier than gold2 'tis evident that1 notwithstanding my incredulity1 ,i clearly understand his meaning1 and form all the same ideas which he forms4 ,my imagination is endowed with the same powers as his2 nor is it possible for him to conceive any idea1 which ,i cannot conceive2 or conjoin any1 which ,i cannot conjoin4 ,i therefore ask1 wherein consists the difference betwixt believing and disbelieving any proposition8 ,the answer is easy with regard to propositions1 that are proved by intuition or demonstration4 ,in that case1 the person who assents not only conceives the ideas according to the proposition1 but is necessarily determined to conceive them in that particular manner1 either immediately1 or by the interposition of other ideas4 ,whatever is absurd is unintelligible2 nor is it possible for the imagination to conceive any thing contrary to a demonstration4 ,but as1 in reasonings from causation1 and concerning matters of fact1 this absolute necessity cannot take place1 and the imagination is free to conceive both sides of the question1 ,i still ask1 wherein consists the difference betwixt incredulity and belief8 since in both cases the conception of the idea is equally possible and requisite4 ',twill not be a satisfactory answer to say1 that person1 who does not assent to a proposition you advance2 after having conceived the object in the same manner with you1 immediately conceives it in a different manner1 and has different ideas of it4 ,this answer is unsatisfactory2 not because it contains any falsehood1 but because it discovers not all the truth4 ',tis confessed that1 in all cases wherein we dissent from any person1 we conceive both sides of the question2 but as we can believe only one1 it evidently follows1 that the belief must make some difference betwixt that conception to which we assent1 and that from which we dissent4 ,we may mingle1 and unite1 and separate1 and confound1 and vary our ideas in a hundred different ways2 but 'till there appears some principle1 which fixes one of these different situations1 we have in reality no opinion3 and this principle1 as it plainly makes no addition to our precedent ideas1 can only change the manner of our conceiving them4 ,all the perceptions of the mind are of two kinds1 viz4 impressions and ideas1 which differ from each other only in their different degrees of force and vivacity4 ,our ideas are copied from our impressions1 and represent them in all their parts4 ,when you would any way vary the idea of a particular object1 you can only increase or diminish its force and vivacity4 ,if you make any other change on it1 it represents a different object or impression4 ,the case is the same as in colours4 ,a particular shade of any colour may acquire a new degree of liveliness or brightness without any other variation4 ,but when you produce any other variation1 'tis no longer the same shade or colour2 so that as belief does nothing but vary the manner in which we conceive any object1 it can only bestow on our ideas an additional force and vivacity4 ,an opinion therefore or belief may be most accurately defined1 a lively idea related to or associated with a present impression4#f ,here are the heads of those arguments1 which lead us to this conclusion4 ,when we infer the existence of an object from that of others1 some object must always be present either to the memory or senses1 in order to be the foundation of our reasoning2 since the mind cannot run up with its inferences in infinitum4 ,reason can never satisfy us that the existence of any one object does ever imply that of another2 so that when we pass from the impression of one to the idea or belief of another1 we are not determined by reason1 but by custom1 or a principle of association4 ,but belief is somewhat more than a simple idea4 ',tis a particular manner of forming an idea3 and as the same idea can only be varied by a variation of its degrees of force and vivacity2 it follows upon the whole1 that belief is a lively idea produced by a relation to a present impression1 according to the foregoing definition4 ,this operation of the mind1 which forms the belief of any matter of fact1 seems hitherto to have been one of the greatest mysteries of philosophy2 though no one has so much as suspected1 that there was any difficulty in explaining it4 ,for my part1 ,i must own1 that ,i find a considerable difficulty in the case2 and that even when ,i think ,i understand the subject perfectly1 ,i am at a loss for terms to express my meaning4 ,i conclude1 by an induction which seems to me very evident1 that an opinion or belief is nothing but an idea1 that is different from a fiction1 not in the nature1 or the order of its parts1 but in the manner of its being conceived4 ,but when ,i would explain this manner1 ,i scarce find any word that fully answers the case1 but am obliged to have recourse to every one's feeling1 in order to give him a perfect notion of this operation of the mind4 ,an idea assented to feels different from a fictitious idea1 that the fancy alone presents to us3 and this different feeling ,i endeavour to explain by calling it a superior force1 or vivacity1 or solidity1 or steadiness4 ,this variety of terms1 which may seem so unphilosophical1 is intended only to express that act of the mind1 which renders realities more present to us than fictions1 causes them to weigh more in the thought1 and gives them a superior influence on the passions and imagination4 ,provided we agree about the thing1 'tis needless to dispute about the terms4 ,the imagination has the command over all its ideas1 and can join1 and mix1 and vary them in all the ways possible4 ,it may conceive objects with all the circumstances of place and time4 ,it may set them1 in a manner1 before our eyes in their true colours1 just as they might have existed4 ,but as it is impossible that that faculty can ever of itself reach belief2 'tis evident1 that belief consists not in the nature and order of our ideas1 but in the manner of their conception1 and in their feeling to the mind4 ,i confess1 that 'tis impossible to explain perfectly this feeling or manner of conception4 ,we may make use of words that express something near it4 ,but its true and proper name is belief1 which is a term that every one sufficiently understands in common life4 ,and in philosophy1 we can go no farther than assert1 that it is something felt by the mind1 which distinguishes the ideas of the judgment from the fictions of the imagination4 ,it gives them more force and influence2 makes them appear of greater importance2 infixes them in the mind2 and renders them the governing principles of all our actions4 ,this definition will also be found to be entirely conformable to every one's feeling and experience4 ,nothing is more evident1 than that those ideas1 to which we assent1 are more strong1 firm1 and vivid1 than the loose reveries of a castle-builder4 ,if one person sits down to read a book as a romance1 and another as a true history1 they plainly receive the same ideas1 and in the same order2 nor does the incredulity of the one1 and the belief of the other1 hinder them from putting the very same sense upon their author4 ,his words produce the same ideas in both2 though his testimony has not the same influence on them4 ,the latter has a more lively conception of all the incidents4 ,he enters deeper into the concerns of the persons3 represents to himself their actions1 and characters1 and friendships1 and enmities3 he even goes so far as to form a notion of their features1 and air1 and person4 ,while the former1 who gives no credit to the testimony of the author1 has a more faint and languid conception of all these particulars1 and1 except on account of the style and ingenuity of the composition1 can receive little entertainment from it4 #f ,we may here take occasion to observe a very remarkable error1 which1 being frequently inculcated in the schools1 has become a kind of established maxim1 and is universally received by all logicians4 ,this error consists in the vulgar division of the acts of the understanding into conception1 judgment and reasoning1 and in the definitions we give of them4 ,conception is defined to be the simple survey of one or more ideas3 judgment to be the separating or uniting of different ideas3 reasoning to be the separating or uniting of different ideas by the interposition of others1 which show the relation they bear to each other4 ,but these distinctions and definitions are faulty in very considerable articles4 ,for1 first1'tis far from being true1 that1 in every judgment which we form1 we unite two different ideas2 since in that proposition1 ,god is1 or indeed any other1 which regards existence1 the idea of existence is no distinct idea1 which we unite with that of the object1 and which is capable of forming a compound idea by the union4 ,secondly1 as we can thus form a proposition1 which contains only one idea1 so we may exert our reason without employing more than two ideas1 and without having recourse to a third to serve as a medium betwixt them4 ,we infer a cause immediately from its effect2 and this inference is not only a true species of reasoning1 but the strongest of all others1 and more convincing than when we interpose another idea to connect the two extremes4 ,what we may in general affirm concerning these three acts of the understanding is1 that taking them in a proper light1 they all resolve themselves into the first1 and are nothing but particular ways of conceiving our objects4 ,whether we consider a single object1 or several2 whether we dwell on these objects1 or run from them to others2 and in whatever form or order we survey them1 the act of the mind exceeds not a simple conception2 and the only remarkable difference1 which occurs on this occasion1 is1 when we join belief to the conception1 and are persuaded of the truth of what we conceive4 ,this act of the mind has never yet been explained by any philosopher2 and therefore ,i am at liberty to propose my hypothesis concerning it2 which is1 that 'tis only a strong and steady conception of any idea1 and such as approaches in some measure to an immediate impression4 ,,section ,,viii4 ,,of ,,the ,,causes ,,of ,,belief4 ,having thus explained the nature of belief1 and shown that it consists in a lively idea related to a present impression2 let us now proceed to examine from what principles it is derived1 and what bestows the vivacity on the idea4 ,i would willingly establish it as a general maxim in the science of human nature1 that when any impression becomes present to us1 it not only transports the mind to such ideas as are related to it1 but likewise communicates to them a share of its force and vivacity4 ,all the operations of the mind depend1 in a great measure1 on its disposition when it performs them2 and according as the spirits are more or less elevated1 and the attention more or less fixed1 the action will always have more or less vigour and vivacity4 ,when1 therefore1 any object is presented which elevates and enlivens the thought1 every action1 to which the mind applies itself1 will be more strong and vivid1 as long as that disposition continues4 ,now1 'tis evident the continuance of the disposition depends entirely on the objects about which the mind is employed2 and that any new object naturally gives a new direction to the spirits1 and changes the disposition2 as on the contrary1 when the mind fixes constantly on the same object1 or passes easily and insensibly along related objects1 the disposition has a much longer duration4 ,hence it happens1 that when the mind is once enlivened by a present impression1 it proceeds to form a more lively idea of the related objects1 by a natural transition of the disposition from the one to the other4 ,the change of the objects is so easy1 that the mind is scarce sensible of it1 but applies itself to the conception of the related idea with all the force and vivacity it acquired from the present impression4 ,if1 in considering the nature of relation1 and that facility of transition which is essential to it1 we can satisfy ourselves concerning the reality of this phenomenon1 'tis well3 but ,i must confess ,i place my chief confidence in experience to prove so material a principle4 ,we may therefore observe1 as the first experiment to our present purpose1 that upon the appearance of the picture of an absent friend1 our idea of him is evidently enlivened by the resemblance1 and that every passion1 which that idea occasions1 whether of joy or sorrow1 acquires new force and vigour4 ,in producing this effect there concur both a relation and a present impression4 ,where the picture bears him no resemblance1 or at least was not intended for him1 it never so much as conveys our thought to him3 and where it is absent as well as the person2 though the mind may pass from the thought of the one to that of the other2 it feels its idea to be rather weakened than enlivened by that transition4 ,we take a pleasure in viewing the picture of a friend1 when 'tis set before us2 but when 'tis removed1 rather choose to consider him directly1 than by reflection in an image1 which is equally distant and obscure4 ,the ceremonies of the ,roman ,catholic religion may be considered as experiments of the same nature4 ,the devotees of that strange superstition usually plead in excuse of the mummeries with which they are up-braided1 that they feel the good effect of those external motions1 and postures and actions1 in enlivening their devotion1 and quickening their fervour1 which otherwise would decay away1 if directed entirely to distant and immaterial objects4 ,we shadow out the objects of our faith1 say they1 in sensible types and images1 and render them more present to us by the immediate presence of these types1 than 'tis possible for us to do1 merely by an intellectual view and contemplation4 ,sensible objects have always a greater influence on the fancy than any other2 and this influence they readily convey to those ideas to which they are related1 and which they resemble4 ,i shall only infer from these practices1 and this reasoning1 that the effect of resemblance in enlivening the idea is very common2 and as in every case a resemblance and a present impression must concur1 we are abundantly supplied with experiments to prove the reality of the foregoing principle4 ,we may add force to these experiments by others of a different kind1 in considering the effects of contiguity1 as well as of resemblance4',tis certain that distance diminishes the force of every idea2 and that1 upon our approach to any object1 though it does not discover itself to our senses1 it operates upon the mind with an influence that imitates an immediate impression4 ,the thinking on any object readily transports the mind to what is contiguous2 but 'tis only the actual presence of an object1 that transports it with a superior vivacity4 ,when ,i am a few miles from home1 whatever relates to it touches me more nearly than when ,i am two hundred leagues distant2 though even at that distance the reflecting on any thing in the neighbourhood of my friends and family naturally produces an idea of them4 ,but as in this latter case1 both the objects of the mind are ideas2 notwithstanding there is an easy transition betwixt them2 that transition alone is not able to give a superior vivacity to any of the ideas1 for want of some immediate impression4#g ,no one can doubt but causation has the same influence as the other two relations of resemblance and contiguity4 ,superstitious people are fond of the relicks of saints and holy men1 for the same reason that they seek after types and images1 in order to enliven their devotion1 and give them a more intimate and strong conception of those exemplary lives1 which they desire to imitate4 ,now1 'tis evident one of the best relicks a devotee could procure would be the handy-work of a saint2 and if his clothes and furniture are ever to be considered in this light1 'tis because they were once at his disposal1 and were moved and affected by him2 in which respect they are to be considered as imperfect effects1 and as connected with him by a shorter chain of consequences than any of those1 from which we learn the reality of his existence4 ,this phenomenon clearly proves1 that a present impression with a relation of causation may enliven any idea1 and consequently produce belief or assent1 according to the precedent definition of it4 ,but why need we seek for other arguments to prove1 that a present impression with a relation or transition of the fancy may enliven any idea1 when this very instance of our reasonings from cause and effect will alone suffice to that purpose8 ',tis certain we must have an idea of every matter of fact which we believe4 ',tis certain that this idea arises only from a relation to a present impression4 ',tis certain that the belief superadds nothing to the idea1 but only changes our manner of conceiving it1 and renders it more strong and lively4 ,the present conclusion concerning the influence of relation is the immediate consequence of all these steps2 and every step appears to me sure and infallible4 ,there enters nothing into this operation of the mind but a present impression1 a lively idea1 and a relation or association in the fancy betwixt the impression and idea2 so that there can be no suspicion of mistake4 ,in order to put this whole affair in a fuller light1 let us consider it as a question in natural philosophy1 which we must determine by experience and observation4 ,i suppose there is an object presented1 from which ,i draw a certain conclusion1 and form to myself ideas1 which ,i am said to believe or assent to4 ,here 'tis evident1 that however that object1 which is present to my senses1 and that other1 whose existence ,i infer by reasoning1 may be thought to influence each other by their particular powers or qualities2 yet as the phenomenon of belief1 which we at present examine1 is merely internal1 these powers and qualities being entirely unknown1 can have no hand in producing it4 ',tis the present impression which is to be considered as the true and real cause of the idea1 and of the belief which attends it4 ,we must therefore endeavour to discover1 by experiments1 the particular qualities by which 'tis enabled to produce so extraordinary an effect4 ,first then ,i observe1 that the present impression has not this effect by its own proper power and efficacy1 and1 when considered alone as a single perception1 limited to the present moment4 ,i find that an impression1 from which1 on its first appearance1 ,i can draw no conclusion1 may afterwards become the foundation of belief1 when ,i have had experience of its usual consequences4 ,we must in every case have observed the same impression in past instances1 and have found it to be constantly conjoined with some other impression4 ,this is confirmed by such a multitude of experiments1 that it admits not of the smallest doubt4 ,from a second observation ,i conclude1 that the belief which attends the present impression1 and is produced by a number of past impressions and conjunctions2 that this belief1 ,i say1 arises immediately1 without any new operation of the reason or imagination4 ,of this ,i can be certain1 because ,i never am conscious of any such operation1 and find nothing in the subject on which it can be founded4 ,now1 as we call every thing custom which proceeds from a past repetition1 without any new reasoning or conclusion1 we may establish it as a certain truth1 that all the belief1 which follows upon any present impression1 is derived solely from that origin4 ,when we are accustomed to see two impressions conjoined together1 the appearance or idea of the one immediately carries us to the idea of the other4 ,being fully satisfied on this head1 ,i make a third set of experiments1 in order to know whether any thing be requisite1 beside the customary transition1 towards the production of this phenomenon of belief4 ,i therefore change the first impression into an idea2 and observe1 that though the customary transition to the correlative idea still remains1 yet there is in reality no belief nor persuasion4 ,a present impression1 then1 is absolutely requisite to this whole operation2 and when after this ,i compare an impression with an idea1 and find that their only difference consists in their different degrees of force and vivacity1 ,i conclude upon the whole1 that belief is a more vivid and intense conception of an idea1 proceeding from its relation to a present impression4 ,thus1 all probable reasoning is nothing but a species of sensation4 ',tis not solely in poetry and music we must follow our taste and sentiment1 but likewise in philosophy4 ,when ,i am convinced of any principle1 'tis only an idea which strikes more strongly upon me4 ,when ,i give the preference to one set of arguments above another1 ,i do nothing but decide from my feeling concerning the superiority of their influence4 ,objects have no discoverable connexion together2 nor is it from any other principle but custom operating upon the imagination1 that we can draw any inference from the appearance of one to the existence of another4 ',twill here be worth our observation1 that the past experience1 on which all our judgments concerning cause and effect depend1 may operate on our mind in such an insensible manner as never to be taken notice of1 and may even in some measure be unknown to us4 ,a person1 who stops short in his journey upon meeting a river in his way1 foresees the consequences of his proceeding forward2 and his knowledge of these consequences is conveyed to him by past experience1 which informs him of such certain conjunctions of causes and effects4 ,but can we think1 that on this occasion he reflects on any past experience1 and calls to remembrance instances that he has seen or heard of1 in order to discover the effects of water on animal bodies8 ,no1 surely2 this is not the method1 in which he proceeds in his reasoning4 ,the idea of sinking is so closely connected with that of water1 and the idea of suffocating with that of sinking1 that the mind makes the transition without the assistance of the memory4 ,the custom operates before we have time for reflection4 ,the objects seem so inseparable1 that we interpose not a moment's delay in passing from the one or the other4 ,but as this transition proceeds from experience1 and not from any primary connexion betwixt the ideas1 we must necessarily acknowledge1 that experience may produce a belief and a judgment of causes and effects by a separate operation1 and without being once thought of4 ,this removes all pretext1 if there yet remains any1 for asserting that the mind is convinced by reasoning of that principle1 that instances of which we have no experience1 must necessarily resemble those of which we have4 ,for we here find1 that the understanding or imagination can draw inferences from past experience1 without reflecting on it2 much more without forming any principle concerning it1 or reasoning upon that principle4 ,in general we may observe1 that in all the most established and uniform conjunctions of causes and effects1 such as those of gravity1 impulse1 solidity1 c4 the mind never carries its view expressly to consider any past experience3 though in other associations of objects1 which are more rare and unusual1 it may assist the custom and transition of ideas by this reflection4 ,nay we find in some cases1 that the reflection produces the belief without the custom2 or1 more properly speaking1 that the reflection produces the custom in an oblique and artificial manner4 ,i explain myself4 ',tis certain1 that not only in philosophy1 but even in common life1 we may attain the knowledge of a particular cause merely by one experiment1 provided it be made with judgment1 and after a careful removal of all foreign and superfluous circumstances4 ,now1 as after one experiment of this kind1 the mind1 upon the appearance either of the cause or the effect1 can draw an inference concerning the existence of its correlative1 and as a habit can never be acquired merely by one instance1 it may be thought that belief cannot in this case be esteemed the effect of custom4 ,but this difficulty will vanish1 if we consider1 that1 though we are here supposed to have had only one experiment of a particular effect1 yet we have many millions to convince us of this principle1 that like objects1 placed in like circumstances1 will always produce like effects2 and as this principle has established itself by a sufficient custom1 it bestows an evidence and firmness on any opinion to which it can be applied4 ,the connexion of the ideas is not habitual after one experiment2 but this connexion is comprehended under another principle that is habitual2 which brings us back to our hypothesis4 ,in all cases we transfer our experience to instances of which we have no experience1 either expressly or tacitly1 either directly or indirectly4 ,i must not conclude this subject without observing1 that 'tis very difficult to talk of the operations of the mind with perfect propriety and exactness2 because common language has seldom made any very nice distinctions among them1 but has generally called by the same term all such as nearly resemble each other4 ,and as this is a source almost inevitable of obscurity and confusion in the author1 so it may frequently give rise to doubts and objections in the reader1 which otherwise he would never have dreamed of4 ,thus1 my general position1 that an opinion or belief is nothing but a strong and lively idea derived from a present impression related to it1 may be liable to the following objection1 by reason of a little ambiguity in those words strong and lively4 ,it may be said1 that not only an impression may give rise to reasoning1 but that an idea may also have the same influence2 especially upon my principle1 that all our ideas are derived from correspondent impressions4 ,for1 suppose ,i form at present an idea1 of which ,i have forgot the correspondent impression1 ,i am able to conclude1 from this idea1 that such an impression did once exist2 and as this conclusion is attended with belief1 it may be asked1 from whence are the qualities of force and vivacity derived which constitute this belief8 ,and to this ,i answer very readily1 from the present idea4 ,for as this idea is not here considered as the representation of any absent object1 but as a real perception in the mind1 of which we are intimately conscious1 it must be able to bestow1 on whatever is related to it1 the same quality1 call it firmness1 or solidity1 or force1 or vivacity1 with which the mind reflects upon it1 and is assured of its present existence4 ,the idea here supplies the place of an impression1 and is entirely the same1 so far as regards our present purpose4 ,upon the same principles we need not be surprised to hear of the remembrance of an idea2 that is1 of the idea of an idea1 and of its force and vivacity superior to the loose conceptions of the imagination4 ,in thinking of our past thoughts we not only delineate out the objects of which we were thinking1 but also conceive the action of the mind in the meditation1 that certain je-ne-scai-quoi1 of which 'tis impossible to give any definition or description1 but which every one sufficiently understands4 ,when the memory offers an idea of this1 and represents it as past1 'tis easily conceived how that idea may have more vigour and firmness than when we think of a past thought of which we have no remembrance4 ,after this1 any one will understand how we may form the idea of an impression and of an idea1 and how we may believe the existence of an impression and of an idea4 #g ,naturane nobis1 inquit1 datum dicam1 an errore quodam1 ut1 cum ea loca videamus1 in quibus memoria dignos viros acceperimus multum esse versatos1 magis moveamur1 quam siquando eorum ipsorum aut facta audiamus1 aut scriptum aliquod legamus8 velut ego nunc moveor4 ,venit enim mihi ,platonis in mentem3 quem accipimus prinum hc disputare solitum3 cujus etiam illi hortuli propinqui non memoriam solm mihi afferunt1 sed ipsum videntur in conspectu meo hic ponere4 ,hc ,speusippus1 hic ,xenocrates1 hic ejus auditor ,polemo2 cujus ipsa illa sessio fuit1 quam videamus4 ,equidem etiam curiam nostram1 hostiliam dico1 non hanc novam1 qu mihi minor esse videtur postquam est major1 solebam intuens ,scipionem1 ,catonem1 ,llium1 nostrum vero in primis avum cogitare4 ,tanta vis admonitionis inest in locis2 ut non sine causa ex his memori ducta sit diciplina4--,cicero de ,finibus1 lib4 #e4 ,,section ,,ix4 ,,of ,,the ,,effects ,,of ,,other ,,relations ,,and ,,other ,,habits4 ,however convincing the foregoing arguments may appear1 we must not rest contented with them1 but must turn the subject on every side1 in order to find some new points of view1 from which we may illustrate and confirm such extraordinary and such fundamental principles4 ,a scrupulous hesitation to receive any new hypothesis is so laudable a disposition in philosophers1 and so necessary to the examination of truth1 that it deserves to be complied with1 and requires that every argument be produced which may tend to their satisfaction1 and every objection removed which may stop them in their reasoning4 ,i have often observed1 that1 beside cause and effect1 the two relations of resemblance and contiguity are to be considered as associating principles of thought1 and as capable of conveying the imagination from one idea to another4 ,i have also observed1 that when of two objects1 connected together by any of these relations1 one is immediately present to the memory or senses1 not only the mind is conveyed to its co-relative by means of the associating principle1 but likewise conceives it with an additional force and vigour1 by the united operation of that principle1 and of the present impression4 ,all this ,i have observed1 in order to confirm1 by analogy1 my explication of our judgments concerning cause and effect4 ,but this very argument may perhaps be turned against me1 and1 instead of a confirmation of my hypothesis1 may become an objection to it4 ,for it may be said1 that if all the parts of that hypothesis be true1 viz4 that these three species of relation are derived from the same principles2 that their effects1 in enforcing and enlivening our ideas1 are the same2 and that belief is nothing but a more forcible and vivid conception of an idea2 it should follow1 that that action of the mind may not only be derived from the relation of cause and effect1 but also from those of contiguity and resemblance4 ,but as we find by experience that belief arises only from causation1 and that we can draw no inference from one object to another1 except they be connected by this relation1 we may conclude1 that there is some error in that reasoning which leads us into such difficulties4 ,this is the objection3 let us now consider its solution4 ',tis evident1 that whatever is present to the memory1 striking upon the mind with a vivacity which resembles an immediate impression1 must become of considerable moment in all the operations of the mind1 and must easily distinguish itself above the mere fictions of the imagination4 ,of these impressions or ideas of the memory we form a kind of system1 comprehending whatever we remember to have been present1 either to our internal perception or senses2 and every particular of that system1 joined to the present impressions1 we are pleased to call a reality4 ,but the mind stops not here4 ,for finding1 that with this system of perceptions there is another connected by custom1 or1 if you will1 by the relation of cause or effect1 it proceeds to the consideration of their ideas2 and as it feels that 'tis in a manner necessarily determined to view these particular ideas1 and that the custom or relation1 by which it is determined1 admits not of the least change1 it forms them into a new system1 which it likewise dignifies with the title of realities4 ,the first of these systems is the object of the memory and senses2 the second of the judgment4 ',tis this latter principle which peoples the world1 and brings us acquainted with such existences as1 by their removal in time and place1 lie beyond the reach of the senses and memory4 ,by means of it ,i paint the universe in my imagination1 and fix my attention on any part of it ,i please4 ,i form an idea of ,rome1 which ,i neither see nor remember1 but which is connected with such impressions as ,i remember to have received from the conversation and books of travellers and historians4 ,this idea of ,rome ,i place in a certain situation on the idea of an object which ,i call the globe4 ,i join to it the conception of a particular government1 and religion and manners4 ,i look backward and consider its first foundation1 its several revolutions1 successes and misfortunes4 ,all this1 and every thing else which ,i believe1 are nothing but ideas1 though1 by their force and settled order1 arising from custom and the relation of cause and effect1 they distinguish themselves from the other ideas1 which are merely the offspring of the imagination4 ,as to the influence of contiguity and resemblance1 we may observe1 that if the contiguous and resembling object be comprehended in this system of realities1 there is no doubt but these two relations will assist that of cause and effect1 and infix the related idea with more force in the imagination4 ,this ,i shall enlarge upon presently4 ,meanwhile ,i shall carry my observation a step farther1 and assert1 that even where the related object is but feigned1 the relation will serve to enliven the idea1 and increase its influence4 ,a poet1 no doubt1 will be the better able to form a strong description of the ,elysian fields1 that he prompts his imagination by the view of a beautiful meadow or garden2 as at another time he may1 by his fancy1 place himself in the midst of these fabulous regions1 that by the feigned contiguity he may enliven his imagination4 ,but though ,i cannot altogether exclude the relations of resemblance and contiguity from operating on the fancy in this manner1 'tis observable that1 when single1 their influence is very feeble and uncertain4 ,as the relation of cause and effect is requisite to persuade us of any real existence1 so is this persuasion requisite to give force to these other relations4 ,for where upon the appearance of an impression we not only feign another object1 but likewise arbitrarily1 and of our mere good-will and pleasure give it a particular relation to the impression1 this can have but a small effect upon the mind2 nor is there any reason1 why1 upon the return of the same impression1 we should be determined to place the same object in the same relation to it4 ,there is no manner of necessity for the mind to feign any resembling and contiguous objects2 and if it feigns such1 there is as little necessity for it always to confine itself to the same1 without any difference or variation4 ,and indeed such a fiction is founded on so little reason1 that nothing but pure caprice can determine the mind to form it2 and that principle being fluctuating and uncertain1 'tis impossible it can ever operate with any considerable degree of force and constancy4 ,the mind foresees and anticipates the change2 and even from the very first instant feels the looseness of its actions1 and the weak hold it has of its objects4 ,and as this imperfection is very sensible in every single instance1 it still increases by experience and observation1 when we compare the several instances we may remember1 and form a general rule against the reposing any assurance in those momentary glimpses of light1 which arise in the imagination from a feigned resemblance and contiguity4 ,the relation of cause and effect has all the opposite advantages4 ,the objects it presents are fixed and unalterable4 ,the impressions of the memory never change in any considerable degree2 and each impression draws along with it a precise idea1 which takes its place in the imagination1 as something solid and real1 certain and invariable4 ,the thought is always determined to pass from the impression to the idea1 and from that particular impression to that particular idea1 without any choice or hesitation4 ,but not content with removing this objection1 ,i shall endeavour to extract from it a proof of the present doctrine4 ,contiguity and resemblance have an effect much inferior to causation2 but still have some effect1 and augment the conviction of any opinion1 and the vivacity of any conception4 ,if this can be proved in several new instances1 beside what we have already observed1 'twill be allowed no inconsiderable argument1 that belief is nothing but a lively idea related to a present impression4 ,to begin with contiguity2 it has been remarked among the ,mahometans as well as ,christians1 that those pilgrims1 who have seen ,mecca or the ,holy ,land are ever after more faithful and zealous believers1 than those who have not had that advantage4 ,a man1 whose memory presents him with a lively image of the ,red ,sea1 and the ,desert1 and ,jerusalem1 and ,galilee1 can never doubt of any miraculous events1 which are related either by ,moses or the ,evangelists4 ,the lively idea of the places passes by an easy transition to the facts1 which are supposed to have been related to them by contiguity1 and increases the belief by increasing the vivacity of the conception4 ,the remembrance of these fields and rivers has the same influence on the vulgar as a new argument1 and from the same causes4 ,we may form a like observation concerning resemblance4 ,we have remarked1 that the conclusion which we draw from a present object to its absent cause or effect1 is never founded on any qualities which we observe in that object1 considered in itself2 or1 in other words1 that 'tis impossible to determine otherwise than by experience1 what will result from any phenomenon1 or what has preceded it4 ,but though this be so evident in itself1 that it seemed not to require any proof1 yet some philosophers have imagined that there is an apparent cause for the communication of motion1 and that a reasonable man might immediately infer the motion of one body from the impulse of another1 without having recourse to any past observation4 ,that this opinion is false will admit of an easy proof4 ,for if such an inference may be drawn merely from the ideas of body1 of motion1 and of impulse1 it must amount to a demonstration1 and must imply the absolute impossibility of any contrary supposition4 ,every effect1 then1 beside the communication of motion1 implies a formal contradiction2 and 'tis impossible not only that it can exist1 but also that it can be conceived4 ,but we may soon satisfy ourselves of the contrary1 by forming a clear and consistent idea of one body's moving upon another1 and of its rest immediately upon the contact2 or of its returning back in the same line in which it came2 or of its annihilation1 or circular or elliptical motion3 and in short1 of an infinite number of other changes1 which they may suppose it to undergo4 ,these suppositions are all consistent and natural2 and the reason why we imagine the communication of motion to be more consistent and natural1 not only than those suppositions1 but also than any other natural effect1 is founded on the relation of resemblance betwixt the cause and effect1 which is here united to experience1 and binds the objects in the closest and most intimate manner to each other1 so as to make us imagine them to be absolutely inseparable4 ,resemblance1 then1 has the same or a parallel influence with experience2 and as the only immediate effect of experience is to associate our ideas together1 it follows that all belief arises from the association of ideas1 according to my hypothesis4 ',tis universally allowed by the writers on optics1 that the eye at all times sees an equal number of physical points1 and that a man on the top of a mountain has no larger an image presented to his senses1 than when he is cooped up in the narrowest court or chamber4 ',tis only by experience that he infers the greatness of the object from some peculiar qualities of the image2 and this inference of the judgment he confounds with sensation1 as is common on other occasions4 ,now 'tis evident1 that the inference of the judgment is here much more lively than what is usual in our common reasonings1 and that a man has a more vivid conception of the vast extent of the ocean from the image he receives by the eye1 when he stands on the top of the high promontory1 than merely from hearing the roaring of the waters4 ,he feels a more sensible pleasure from its magnificence1 which is a proof of a more lively idea2 and he confounds his judgment with sensation1 which is another proof of it4 ,but as the inference is equally certain and immediate in both cases1 this superior vivacity of our conception in one case can proceed from nothing but this1 that in drawing an inference from the sight1 beside the customary conjunction1 there is also a resemblance betwixt the image and the object we infer1 which strengthens the relation1 and conveys the vivacity of the impression to the related idea with an easier and more natural movement4 ,no weakness of human nature is more universal and conspicuous than what we commonly call credulity1 or a too easy faith in the testimony of others2 and this weakness is also very naturally accounted for from the influence of resemblance4 ,when we receive any matter of fact upon human testimony1 our faith arises from the very same origin as our inferences from causes to effects1 and from effects to causes2 nor is there any thing but our experience of the governing principles of human nature1 which can give us any assurance of the veracity of men4 ,but though experience be the true standard of this1 as well as of all other judgments1 we seldom regulate ourselves entirely by it1 but have a remarkable propensity to believe whatever is reported1 even concerning apparitions1 enchantments1 and prodigies1 however contrary to daily experience and observation4 ,the words or discourses of others have an intimate connexion with certain ideas in their mind2 and these ideas have also a connexion with the facts or objects which they represent4 ,this latter connexion is generally much over-rated1 and commands our assent beyond what experience will justify1 which can proceed from nothing beside the resemblance betwixt the ideas and the facts4 ,other effects only point out their causes in an oblique manner2 but the testimony of men does it directly1 and is to be considered as an image as well as an effect4 ,no wonder1 therefore1 we are so rash in drawing our inferences from it1 and are less guided by experience in our judgments concerning it1 than in those upon any other subject4 ,as resemblance1 when conjoined with causation1 fortifies our reasonings1 so the want of it in any very great degree is able almost entirely to destroy them4 ,of this there is a remarkable instance in the universal carelessness and stupidity of men with regard to a future state1 where they show as obstinate an incredulity1 as they do a blind credulity on other occasions4 ,there is not indeed a more ample matter of wonder to the studious1 and of regret to the pious man1 than to observe the negligence of the bulk of mankind concerning their approaching condition2 and 'tis with reason1 that many eminent theologians have not scrupled to affirm1 that though the vulgar have no formal principles of infidelity1 yet they are really infidels in their hearts1 and have nothing like what we can call a belief of the eternal duration of their souls4 ,for let us consider on the one hand what divines have displayed with such eloquence concerning the importance of eternity2 and at the same time reflect1 that though in matters of rhetoric we ought to lay our account with some exaggeration1 we must in this case allow1 that the strongest figures are infinitely inferior to the subject3 and after this1 let us view on the other hand the prodigious security of men in this particular3 ,i ask1 if these people really believe what is inculcated on them1 and what they pretend to affirm2 and the answer is obviously in the negative4 ,as belief is an act of the mind arising from custom1 'tis not strange the want of resemblance should overthrow what custom has established1 and diminish the force of the idea1 as much as that latter principle increases it4 ,a future state is so far removed from our comprehension1 and we have so obscure an idea of the manner in which we shall exist after the dissolution of the body1 that all the reasons we can invent1 however strong in themselves1 and however much assisted by education1 are never able with slow imaginations to surmount this difficulty1 or bestow a sufficient authority and force on the idea4 ,i rather choose to ascribe this incredulity to the faint idea we form of our future condition1 derived from its want of resemblance to the present life1 than to that derived from its remoteness4 ,for ,i observe1 that men are every where concerned about what may happen after their death1 provided it regard this world2 and that there are few to whom their name1 their family1 their friends1 and their country are in any period of time entirely indifferent4 ,and indeed the want of resemblance in this case so entirely destroys belief1 that except those few who1 upon cool reflection on the importance of the subject1 have taken care by repeated meditation to imprint in their minds the arguments for a future state1 there scarce are any who believe the immortality of the soul with a true and established judgment2 such as is derived from the testimony of travellers and historians4 ,this appears very conspicuously wherever men have occasion to compare the pleasures and pains1 the rewards and punishments of this life with those of a future2 even though the case does not concern themselves1 and there is no violent passion to disturb their judgment4 ,the ,roman ,catholics are certainly the most zealous of any sect in the ,christian world2 and yet you'll find few among the more sensible part of that communion who do not blame the ,gunpowder ,treason1 and the massacre of ,st ,bartholomew1 as cruel and barbarous1 though projected or executed against those very people1 whom without any scruple they condemn to eternal and infinite punishments4 ,all we can say in excuse for this inconsistency is1 that they really do not believe what they affirm concerning a future state2 nor is there any better proof of it than the very inconsistency4 ,we may add to this a remark1 that in matters of religion men take a pleasure in being terrified1 and that no preachers are so popular as those who excite the most dismal and gloomy passions4 ,in the common affairs of life1 where we feel and are with the solidity of the subject1 nothing can be more disagreeable than fear and terror2 and 'tis only in dramatic performances and in religious discourses that they ever give pleasure4 ,in these latter cases the imagination reposes itself indolently on the idea2 and the passion being softened by the want of belief in the subject1 has no more than the agreeable effect of enlivening the mind and fixing the attention4 ,the present hypothesis will receive additional confirmation1 if we examine the effects of other kinds of custom1 as well as of other relations4 ,to understand this we must consider that custom1 to which ,i attribute all belief and reasoning1 may operate upon the mind in invigorating an idea after two several ways4 ,for supposing that1 in all past experience1 we have found two objects to have been always conjoined together1 'tis evident1 that upon the appearance of one of these objects in an impression1 we must1 from custom1 make an easy transition to the idea of that object1 which usually attends it2 and by means of the present impression and easy transition must conceive that idea in a stronger and more lively manner than we do any loose floating image of the fancy4 ,but let us next suppose1 that a mere idea alone1 without any of this curious and almost artificial preparation1 should frequently make its appearance in the mind1 this idea must1 by degrees1 acquire a facility and force2 and both by its firm hold and easy introduction distinguish itself from any new and unusual idea4 ,this is the only particular in which these two kinds of custom agree2 and if it appear that their effects on the judgment are similar and proportionable1 we may certainly conclude1 that the foregoing explication of that faculty is satisfactory4 ,but can we doubt of this agreement in their influence on the judgment1 when we consider the nature and effects of education8 ,all those opinions and notions of things1 to which we have been accustomed from our infancy1 take such deep root1 that 'tis impossible for us1 by all the powers of reason and experience1 to eradicate them2 and this habit not only approaches in its influence1 but even on many occasions prevails over that which arises from the constant and inseparable union of causes and effects4 ,here we must not be contented with saying1 that the vividness of the idea produces the belief3 we must maintain that they are individually the same4 ,the frequent repetition of any idea infixes it in the imagination2 but could never possibly of itself produce belief1 if that act of the mind was1 by the original constitution of our natures1 annexed only to a reasoning and comparison of ideas4 ,custom may lead us into some false comparison of ideas4 ,this is the utmost effect we can conceive of it2 but 'tis certain it could never supply the place of that comparison1 nor produce any act of the mind which naturally belonged to that principle4 ,a person that has lost a leg or an arm by amputation endeavours for a long time afterwards to serve himself with them4 ,after the death of any one1 'tis a common remark of the whole family1 but especially the servants1 that they can scarce believe him to be dead1 but still imagine him to be in his chamber or in any other place1 where they were accustomed to find him4 ,i have often heard in conversation1 after talking of a person that is any way celebrated1 that one1 who has no acquaintance with him1 will say1 ,i have never seen such a one1 but almost fancy ,i have1 so often have ,i heard talk of him4 ,all these are parallel instances4 ,if we consider this argument from education in a proper light1 'twill appear very convincing2 and the more so1 that 'tis founded on one of the most common phenomena that is any where to be met with4 ,i am persuaded that1 upon examination1 we shall find more than one half of those opinions that prevail among mankind to be owing to education1 and that the principles which are thus implicitly embraced1 overbalance those1 which are owing either to abstract reasoning or experience4 ,as liars1 by the frequent repetition of their lies1 come at last to remember them2 so the judgment1 or rather the imagination1 by the like means1 may have ideas so strongly imprinted on it1 and conceive them in so full a light1 that they may operate upon the mind in the same manner with those which the senses1 memory1 or reason present to us4 ,but as education is an artificial and not a natural cause1 and as its maxims are frequently contrary to reason1 and even to themselves in different times and places1 it is never upon that account recognised by philosophers2 though in reality it be built almost on the same foundation of custom and repetition as our reasonings from causes and effects4#h #h ,in general we may observe1 that as our assent to all probable reasonings is founded on the vivacity of ideas1 it resembles many of those whimsies and prejudices which are rejected under the opprobrious character of being the offspring of the imagination4 ,by this expression it appears1 that the word imagination1 is commonly used in two different senses2 and though nothing be more contrary to true philosophy than this inaccuracy1 yet1 in the following reasonings1 ,i have often been obliged to fall into it4 ,when ,i oppose the imagination to the memory1 ,i mean the faculty by which we form our fainter ideas4 ,when ,i oppose it to reason1 ,i mean the same faculty1 excluding only our demonstrative and probable reasonings4 ,when ,i oppose it to neither1 'tis indifferent whether it be taken in the larger or more limited sense1 or at least the context will sufficiently explain the meaning4 ,,section ,x4 ,,of ,,the ,,influence ,,of ,,belief4 ,but though education be disclaimed by philosophy1 as a fallacious ground of assent to any opinion1 it prevails nevertheless in the world1 and is the cause why all systems are apt to be rejected at first as new and unusual4 ,this1 perhaps1 will be the fate of what ,i have here advanced concerning belief2 and though the proofs ,i have produced appear to me perfectly conclusive1 ,i expect not to make many proselytes to my opinion4 ,men will scarce ever be persuaded1 that effects of such consequence can flow from principles which are seemingly so inconsiderable1 and that the far greatest part of our reasonings1 with all our actions and passions1 can be derived from nothing but custom and habit4 ,to obviate this objection1 ,i shall here anticipate a little what would more properly fall under our consideration afterwards1 when we come to treat of the ,passions and the ,sense of ,beauty4 ,there is implanted in the human mind a perception of pain and pleasure1 as the chief spring and moving principle of all its actions4 ,but pain and pleasure have two ways of making their appearance in the mind2 of which the one has effects very different from the other4 ,they may either appear an impression to the actual feeling1 or only in idea1 as at present when ,i mention them4 ',tis evident the influence of these upon our actions is far from being equal4 ,impressions always actuate the soul1 and that in the highest degree2 but 'tis not every idea which has the same effect4 ,nature has proceeded with caution in this case1 and seems to have carefully avoided the inconveniences of two extremes4 ,did impressions alone influence the will1 we should every moment of our lives be subject to the greatest calamities2 because1 though we foresaw their approach1 we should not be provided by nature with any principle of action1 which might impel us to avoid them4 ,on the other hand1 did every idea influence our actions1 our condition would not be much mended4 ,for such is the unsteadiness and activity of thought1 that the images of every thing1 especially of goods and evils1 are always wandering in the mind2 and were it moved by every idle conception of this kind1 it would never enjoy a moment's peace and tranquillity4 ,nature has therefore chosen a medium1 and has neither bestowed on every idea of good and evil the power of actuating the will1 nor yet has entirely excluded them from this influence4 ,though an idle fiction has no efficacy1 yet we find by experience1 that the ideas of those objects1 which we believe either are or will be existent1 produce in a lesser degree the same effect with those impressions1 which are immediately present to the senses and perception4 ,the effect then of belief is to raise up a simple idea to an equality with our impressions1 and bestow on it a like influence on the passions4 ,this effect it can only have by making an idea approach an impression in force and vivacity4 ,for as the different degrees of force make all the original difference betwixt an impression and an idea1 they must of consequence be the source of all the differences in the effects of these perceptions1 and their removal1 in whole or in part1 the cause of every new resemblance they acquire4 ,wherever we can make an idea approach the impressions in force and vivacity1 it will likewise imitate them in its influence on the mind2 and vice versa1 where it imitates them in that influence1 as in the present case1 this must proceed from its approaching them in force and vivacity4 ,belief1 therefore1 since it causes an idea to imitate the effects of the impressions1 must make it resemble them in these qualities1 and is nothing but a more vivid and intense conception of any idea4 ,this then may both serve as an additional argument for the present system1 and may give us a notion after what manner our reasonings from causation are able to operate on the will and passions4 ,as belief is almost absolutely requisite to the exciting our passions1 so the passions1 in their turn1 are very favourable to belief2 and not only such facts as convey agreeable emotions1 but very often such as give pain1 do upon that account become more readily the objects of faith and opinion4 ,a coward1 whose fears are easily awakened1 readily assents to every account of danger he meets with2 as a person of a sorrowful and melancholy disposition is very credulous of every thing that nourishes his prevailing passion4 ,when any affecting object is presented1 it gives the alarm1 and excites immediately a degree of its proper passion2 especially in persons who are naturally inclined to that passion4 ,this emotion passes by an easy transition to the imagination2 and1 diffusing itself over our idea of the affecting object1 makes us form that idea with greater force and vivacity1 and consequently assent to it1 according to the precedent system4 ,admiration and surprise have the same effect as the other passions2 and accordingly we may observe1 that among the vulgar1 quacks and projectors meet with a more easy faith upon account of their magnificent pretensions1 than if they kept themselves within the bounds of moderation4 ,the first astonishment1 which naturally attends their miraculous relations1 spreads itself over the whole soul1 and so vivifies and enlivens the idea1 that it resembles the inferences we draw from experience4 ,this is a mystery1 with which we may be already a little acquainted1 and which we shall have further occasion to be let into in the progress of this ,treatise4 ,after this account of the influence of belief on the passions1 we shall find less difficulty in explaining its effects on the imagination1 however extraordinary they may appear4 ',tis certain we cannot take pleasure in any discourse1 where our judgment gives no assent to those images which are presented to our fancy4 ,the conversation of those1 who have acquired a habit of lying1 though in affairs of no moment1 never gives any satisfaction2 and that because those ideas they present to us1 not being attended with belief1 make no impression upon the mind4 ,poets themselves1 though liars by profession1 always endeavour to give an air of truth to their fictions2 and where that is totally neglected1 their performances1 however ingenious1 will never be able to afford much pleasure4 ,in short1 we may observe1 that even when ideas have no manner of influence on the will and passions1 truth and reality are still requisite1 in order to make them entertaining to the imagination4 ,but if we compare together all the phenomena that occur on this head1 we shall find1 that truth1 however necessary it may seem in all works of genius1 has no other effect than to procure an easy reception for the ideas1 and to make the mind acquiesce in them with satisfaction1 or at least without reluctance4 ,but as this is an effect1 which may easily be supposed to flow from that solidity and force1 which1 according to my system1 attend those ideas that are established by reasonings from causation2 it follows1 that all the influence of belief upon the fancy may be explained from that system4 ,accordingly we may observe1 that wherever that influence arises from any other principles beside truth or reality1 they supply its place1 and give an equal entertainment to the imagination4 ,poets have formed what they call a poetical system of things1 which1 though it be believed neither by themselves nor readers1 is commonly esteemed a sufficient foundation for any fiction4 ,we have been so much accustomed to the names of ,mars1 ,jupiter1 ,venus1 that in the same manner as education infixes any opinion1 the constant repetition of these ideas makes them enter into the mind with facility1 and prevail upon the fancy1 without influencing the judgment4 ,in like manner tragedians always borrow their fable1 or at least the names of their principal actors1 from some known passage in history2 and that not in order to deceive the spectators2 for they will frankly confess1 that truth is not in any circumstance inviolably observed1 but in order to procure a more easy reception into the imagination for those extraordinary events1 which they represent4 ,but this is a precaution which is not required of comic poets1 whose personages and incidents1 being of a more familiar kind1 enter easily into the conception1 and are received without any such formality1 even though at first sight they be known to be fictitious1 and the pure offspring of the fancy4 ,this mixture of truth and falsehood in the fables of tragic poets not only serves our present purpose1 by showing that the imagination can be satisfied without any absolute belief or assurance2 but may in another view be regarded as a very strong confirmation of this system4 ',tis evident1 that poets make use of this artifice of borrowing the names of their persons1 and the chief events of their poems1 from history1 in order to procure a more easy reception for the whole1 and cause it to make a deeper impression on the fancy and affections4 ,the several incidents of the piece acquire a kind of relation by being united into one poem or representation2 and if any of these incidents be an object of belief1 it bestows a force and vivacity on the others1 which are related to it4 ,the vividness of the first conception diffuses itself along the relations1 and is conveyed1 as by so many pipes or canals1 to every idea that has any communication with the primary one4 ,this indeed can never amount to a perfect assurance2 and that because the union among the ideas is in a manner accidental3 but still it approaches so near in its influence1 as may convince us that they are derived from the same origin4 ,belief must please the imagination by means of the force and vivacity which attends it2 since every idea1 which has force and vivacity1 is found to be agreeable to that faculty4 ,to confirm this we may observe1 that the assistance is mutual betwixt the judgment and fancy1 as well as betwixt the judgment and passion2 and that belief not only gives vigour to the imagination1 but that a vigorous and strong imagination is of all talents the most proper to procure belief and authority4 ',tis difficult for us to withhold our assent from what is painted out to us in all the colours of eloquence2 and the vivacity produced by the fancy is in many cases greater than that which arises from custom and experience4 ,we are hurried away by the lively imagination of our author or companion2 and even he himself is often a victim to his own fire and genius4 ,nor will it be amiss to remark1 that as a lively imagination very often degenerates into madness or folly1 and bears it a great resemblance in its operations2 so they influence the judgment after the same manner1 and produce belief from the very same principles4 ,when the imagination1 from any extraordinary ferment of the blood and spirits1 acquires such a vivacity as disorders all its powers and faculties1 there is no means of distinguishing betwixt truth and falsehood2 but every loose fiction or idea1 having the same influence as the impressions of the memory1 or the conclusions of the judgment1 is received on the same footing1 and operates with equal force on the passions4 ,a present impression and a customary transition are now no longer necessary to enliven our ideas4 ,every chimera of the brain is as vivid and intense as any of those inferences1 which we formerly dignified with the name of conclusions concerning matters of fact1 and sometimes as the present impressions of the senses4 ,we may observe the same effect of poetry in a lesser degree2 and this is common both to poetry and madness1 that the vivacity they bestow on the ideas is not derived from the particular situations or connexions of the objects of these ideas1 but from the present temper and disposition of the person4 ,but how great soever the pitch may be to which this vivacity rise1 'tis evident1 that in poetry it never has the same feeling with that which arises in the mind1 when we reason1 though even upon the lowest species of probability4 ,the mind can easily distinguish betwixt the one and the other2 and whatever emotion the poetical enthusiasm may give to the spirits1 'tis still the mere phantom of belief or persuasion4 ,the case is the same with the idea as with the passion it occasions4 ,there is no passion of the human mind but what may arise from poetry2 though1 at the same time1 the feelings of the passions are very different when excited by poetical fictions1 from what they are when they arise from belief and reality4 ,a passion which is disagreeable in real life1 may afford the highest entertainment in a tragedy or epic poem4 ,in the latter case it lies not with that weight upon us3 it feels less firm and solid1 and has no other than the agreeable effect of exciting the spirits1 and rousing the attention4 ,the difference in the passions is a clear proof of a like difference in those ideas from which the passions are derived4 ,where the vivacity arises from a customary conjunction with a present impression1 though the imagination may not1 in appearance1 be so much moved1 yet there is always something more forcible and real in its actions than in the fervours of poetry and eloquence4 ,the force of our mental actions in this case1 no more than in any other1 is not to be measured by the apparent agitation of the mind4 ,a poetical description may have a more sensible effect on the fancy than an historical narration4 ,it may collect more of those circumstances that form a complete image or picture4 ,it may seem to set the object before us in more lively colours4 ,but still the ideas it presents are different to the feeling from those which arise from the memory and the judgment4 ,there is something weak and imperfect amidst all that seeming vehemence of thought and sentiment which attends the fictions of poetry4 ,we shall afterwards have occasion to remark both the resemblances and differences betwixt a poetical enthusiasm and a serious conviction4 ,in the mean time1 ,i cannot forbear observing1 that the great difference in their feeling proceeds1 in some measure1 from reflection and general rules4 ,we observe1 that the vigour of conception which fictions receive from poetry and eloquence1 is a circumstance merely accidental1 of which every idea is equally susceptible2 and that such fictions are connected with nothing that is real4 ,this observation makes us only lend ourselves1 so to speak1 to the fiction1 but causes the idea to feel very different from the eternal established persuasions founded on memory and custom4 ,they are somewhat of the same kind2 but the one is much inferior to the other1 both in its causes and effects4 ,a like reflection on general rules keeps us from augmenting our belief upon every increase of the force and vivacity of our ideas4 ,where an opinion admits of no doubt1 or opposite probability1 we attribute to it a full conviction2 though the want of resemblance1 or contiguity1 may render its force inferior to that of other opinions4 ',tis thus the understanding corrects the appearances of the senses1 and makes us imagine1 that an object at twenty foot distance seems even to the eye as large as one of the same dimensions at ten4 ,we may observe the same effect of poetry in a lesser degree2 only with this difference1 that the least reflection dissipates the illusions of poetry1 and places the objects in their proper light4 ',tis however certain1 that in the warmth of a poetical enthusiasm1 a poet has a counterfeit belief1 and even a kind of vision of his objects2 and if there be any shadow of argument to support this belief nothing contributes more to his full conviction than a blaze of poetical figures and images1 which have their effect upon the poet himself1 as well as upon his readers4 ,,section ,,xi4 ,,of ,,the ,,probability ,,of ,,chances4 ,but in order to bestow on this system its full force and evidence1 we must carry our eye from it a moment to consider its consequences1 and explain1 from the same principles1 some other species of reasoning which are derived from the same origin4 ,those philosophers who have divided human reason into knowledge and probability1 and have defined the first to be that evidence which arises from the comparison of ideas1 are obliged to comprehend all our arguments from causes or effects under the general term of probability4 ,but though every one be free to use his terms in what sense he pleases2 and accordingly1 in the precedent part of this discourse1 ,i have followed this method of expression2 'tis however certain1 that in common discourse we readily affirm1 that many arguments from causation exceed probability1 and may be received as a superior kind of evidence4 ,one would appear ridiculous who would say1 that 'tis only probable the sun will rise to-morrow1 or that all men must die2 though 'tis plain we have no further assurance of these facts than what experience affords us4 ,for this reason t'would perhaps be more convenient1 in order at once to preserve the common signification of words1 and mark the several degrees of evidence1 to distinguish human reason into three kinds1 viz4 that from knowledge1 from proofs1 and from probabilities4 ,by knowledge1 ,i mean the assurance arising from the comparison of ideas4 ,by proofs1 those arguments which are derived from the relation of cause and effect1 and which are entirely free from doubt and uncertainty4 ,by probability1 that evidence which is still attended with uncertainty4 ',tis this last species of reasoning ,i proceed to examine4 ,probability or reasoning from conjecture may be divided into two kinds1 viz4 that which is founded on chance1 and that which arises from causes4 ,we shall consider each of these in order4 ,the idea of cause and effect is derived from experience1 which1 presenting us with certain objects constantly conjoined with each other1 produces such a habit of surveying them in that relation1 that we cannot1 without a sensible violence1 survey them in any other4 ,on the other hand1 as chance is nothing real in itself1 and1 properly speaking1 is merely the negation of a cause1 its influence on the mind is contrary to that of causation2 and 'tis essential to it to leave the imagination perfectly indifferent1 either to consider the existence or non-existence of that object which is regarded as contingent4 ,a cause traces the way to our thought1 and in a manner forces us to survey such certain objects in such certain relations4 ,chance can only destroy this determination of the thought1 and leave the mind in its native situation of indifference2 in which1 upon the absence of a cause1 'tis instantly reinstated4 ,since1 therefore1 an entire indifference is essential to chance1 no one chance can possibly be superior to another1 otherwise than as it is composed of a superior number of equal chances4 ,for if we affirm that one chance can1 after any other manner1 be superior to another1 we must at the same time affirm1 that there is something which gives it the superiority1 and determines the event rather to that side than the other2 that is1 in other words1 we must allow of a cause1 and destroy the supposition of chance1 which we had before established4 ,a perfect and total indifference is essential to chance1 and one total indifference can never in itself be either superior or inferior to another4 ,this truth is not peculiar to my system1 but is acknowledged by every one that forms calculations concerning chances4 ,and here 'tis remarkable1 that though chance and causation be directly contrary1 yet 'tis impossible for us to conceive this combination of chances1 which is requisite to render one hazard superior to another1 without supposing a mixture of causes among the chances1 and a conjunction of necessity in some particulars1 with a total indifference in others4 ,where nothing limits the chances1 every notion that the most extravagant fancy can form is upon a footing of equality2 nor can there be any circumstance to give one the advantage above another4 ,thus1 unless we allow that there are some causes to make the dice fall1 and preserve their form in their fall1 and lie upon some one of their sides1 we can form no calculation concerning the laws of hazard4 ,but supposing these causes to operate1 and supposing likewise all the rest to be indifferent and to be determined by chance1 'tis easy to arrive at a notion of a superior combination of chances4 ,a dye that has four sides marked with a certain number of spots1 and only two with another1 affords us an obvious and easy instance of this superiority4 ,the mind is here limited by the causes to such a precise number and quality of the events2 and1 at the same time1 is undetermined in its choice of any particular event4 ,proceeding1 then1 in that reasoning1 wherein we have advanced three steps2 that chance is merely the negation of a cause1 and produces a total indifference in the mind2 that one negation of a cause and one total indifference can never be superior or inferior to another2 and that there must always be a mixture of causes among the chances1 in order to be the foundation of any reasoning4 ,we are next to consider what effect a superior combination of chances can have upon the mind1 and after what manner it influences our judgment and opinion4 ,here we may repeat all the same arguments we employed in examining that belief which arises from causes2 and may prove1 after the same manner1 that a superior number of chances produces our assent neither by demonstration nor probability4 ',tis indeed evident1 that we can never1 by the comparison of mere ideas1 make any discovery which can be of consequence in this affair1 and that 'tis impossible to prove with certainty that any event must fall on that side were there is a superior number of chances4 ,to suppose in this case any certainty1 were to overthrow what we have established concerning the opposition of chances1 and their perfect equality and indifference4 ,should it be said1 that though in an opposition of chances1 'tis impossible to determine with certainty on which side the event will fall1 yet we can pronounce with certainty1 that 'tis more likely and probable 'twill be on that side where there is a superior number of chances1 than where there is an inferior3 should this be said1 ,i would ask1 what is here meant by likelihood and probability8 ,the likelihood and probability of chances is a superior number of equal chances2 and consequently1 when we say 'tis likely the event will fall on the side which is superior1 rather than on the inferior1 we do no more than affirm1 that where there is a superior number of chances there is actually a superior1 and where there is an inferior there is an inferior1 which are identical propositions1 and of no consequence4 ,the question is1 by what means a superior number of equal chances operates upon the mind1 and produces belief or assent1 since it appears that 'tis neither by arguments derived from demonstration1 nor from probability4 ,in order to clear up this difficulty1 we shall suppose a person to take a dye1 formed after such a manner as that four of its sides are marked with one figure1 or one number of spots1 and two with another2 and to put this dye into the box with an intention of throwing it3 'tis plain1 he must conclude the one figure to be more probable than the other1 and give the preference to that which is inscribed on the greatest number of sides4 ,he in a manner believes that this will lie uppermost2 though still with hesitation and doubt1 in proportion to the number of chances which are contrary3 and according as these contrary chances diminish1 and the superiority increases on the other side1 his belief acquires new degrees of stability and assurance4 ,this belief arises from an operation of the mind upon the simple and limited object before us2 and therefore its nature will be the more easily discovered and explained4 ,we have nothing but one single dye to contemplate1 in order to comprehend one of the most curious operations of the understanding4 ,this dye formed as above1 contains three circumstances worthy of our attention4 ,first1 certain causes1 such as gravity1 solidity1 a cubical figure1 c4 which determine it to fall1 to preserve its form in its fall1 and to turn up one of its sides4 ,secondly1 a certain number of sides1 which are supposed indifferent4 ,thirdly1 a certain figure inscribed on each side4 ,these three particulars1 form the whole nature of the dye1 so far as relates to our present purpose2 and consequently are the only circumstances regarded by the mind in its forming a judgment concerning the result of such a throw4 ,let us therefore consider gradually and carefully what must be the influence of these circumstances on the thought and imagination4 ,first1 we have already observed1 that the mind is determined by custom to pass from any cause to its effect1 and that upon the appearance of the one1 'tis almost impossible for it not to form an idea of the other4 ,their constant conjunction in past instances has produced such a habit in the mind1 that it always conjoins them in its thought1 and infers the existence of the one from that of its usual attendant4 ,when it considers the dye as no longer supported by the box1 it cannot without violence regard it as suspended in the air2 but naturally places it on the table1 and views it as turning up one of its sides4 ,this is the effect of the intermingled causes1 which are requisite to our forming any calculation concerning chances4 ,secondly1 'tis supposed1 that though the dye be necessarily determined to fall1 and turn up one of its sides1 yet there is nothing to fix the particular side1 but that this is determined entirely by chance4 ,the very nature and essence of chance is a negation of causes1 and the leaving the mind in a perfect indifference among those events which are supposed contingent4 ,when1 therefore1 the thought is determined by the causes to consider the dye as falling and turning up one of its sides1 the chances present all these sides as equal1 and make us consider every one of them1 one after another1 as alike probable and possible4 ,the imagination passes from the cause1 viz4 the throwing of the dye1 to the effect1 viz4 the turning up one of the six sides2 and feels a kind of impossibility both of stopping short in the way1 and of forming any other idea4 ,but as all these six sides are incompatible1 and the dye cannot turn up above one at once1 this principle directs us not to consider all of them at once as lying uppermost1 which we look upon as impossible3 neither does it direct us with its entire force to any particular side2 for in that case this side would be considered as certain and inevitable2 but it directs us to the whole six sides after such a manner as to divide its force equally among them4 ,we conclude in general1 that some one of them must result from the throw3 we run all of them over in our minds3 the determination of the thought is common to all2 but no more of its force falls to the share of any one1 than what is suitable to its proportion with the rest4 ',tis after this manner the original impulse1 and consequently the vivacity of thought arising from the causes1 is divided and split in pieces by the intermingled chances4 ,we have already seen the influence of the two first qualities of the dye1 viz4 the causes1 and the number1 and indifference of the sides1 and have learned how they give an impulse to the thought1 and divide that impulse into as many parts as there are units in the number of sides4 ,we must now consider the effects of the third particular1 viz4 the figures inscribed on each side4 ',tis evident1 that where several sides have the same figure inscribed on them1 they must concur in their influence on the mind1 and must unite upon one image or idea of a figure all those divided impulses1 that were dispersed over the several sides1 upon which that figure is inscribed4 ,were the question only what side will be turned up1 these are all perfectly equal1 and no one could ever have any advantage above another4 ,but as the question is concerning the figure1 and as the same figure is presented by more than one side1 'tis evident that the impulses belonging to all these sides must re-unite in that one figure1 and become stronger and more forcible by the union4 ,four sides are supposed in the present case to have the same figure inscribed on them1 and two to have another figure4 ,the impulses of the former are therefore superior to those of the latter4 ,but as the events are contrary1 and 'tis impossible both these figures can be turned up2 the impulses likewise become contrary1 and the inferior destroys the superior1 as far as its strength goes4 ,the vivacity of the idea is always proportionable to the degrees of the impulse or tendency to the transition2 and belief is the same with the vivacity of the idea1 according to the precedent doctrine4 ,,section ,,xii4 ,,of ,,the ,,probability ,,of ,,causes4 ,what ,i have said concerning the probability of chances1 can serve to no other purpose than to assist us in explaining the probability of causes2 since 'tis commonly allowed by philosophers1 that what the vulgar call chance is nothing but a secret and concealed cause4 ,that species of probability1 therefore1 is what we must chiefly examine4 ,the probabilities of causes are of several kinds2 but are all derived from the same origin1 viz4 the association of ideas to a present impression4 ,as the habit which produces the association1 arises from the frequent conjunction of objects1 it must arrive at its perfection by degrees1 and must acquire new force from each instance that falls under our observation4 ,the first instance has little or no force3 the second makes some addition to it3 the third becomes still more sensible2 and 'tis by these slow steps that our judgment arrives at a full assurance4 ,but before it attains this pitch of perfection1 it passes through several inferior degrees1 and in all of them is only to be esteemed a presumption or probability4 ,the gradation therefore from probabilities to proofs is in many cases insensible2 and the difference betwixt these kinds of evidence is more easily perceived in the remote degrees1 than in the near and contiguous4 ',tis worthy of remark on this occasion1 that though the species of probability here explained be the first in order1 and naturally takes place before any entire proof can exist1 yet no one1 who is arrived at the age of maturity1 can any longer be acquainted with it4 ',tis true1 nothing is more common than for people of the most advanced knowledge to have attained only an imperfect experience of many particular events2 which naturally produces only an imperfect habit and transition3 but then we must consider1 that the mind1 having formed another observation concerning the connexion of causes and effects1 gives new force to its reasoning from that observation2 and by means of it can build an argument on one single experiment1 when duly prepared and examined4 ,what we have found once to follow from any object1 we conclude will for ever follow from it2 and if this maxim be not always built upon as certain1 'tis not for want of a sufficient number of experiments1 but because we frequently meet with instances to the contrary2 which leads us to the second species of probability1 where there is a contrariety in our experience and observation4 ',twould be very happy for men in the conduct of their lives and actions1 were the same objects always conjoined together1 and we had nothing to fear but the mistakes of our own judgment1 without having any reason to apprehend the uncertainty of nature4 ,but as 'tis frequently found1 that one observation is contrary to another1 and that causes and effects follow not in the same order1 of which we have had experience1 we are obliged to vary our reasoning on account of this uncertainty1 and take into consideration the contrariety of events4 ,the first question that occurs on this head1 is concerning the nature and causes of the contrariety4 ,the vulgar1 who take things according to their first appearance1 attribute the uncertainty of events to such an uncertainty in the causes1 as makes them often fail of their usual influence1 though they meet with no obstacle nor impediment in their operation4 ,but philosophers observing1 that almost in every part of nature there is contained a vast variety of springs and principles1 which are hid1 by reason of their minuteness or remoteness1 find that 'tis 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 farther observation1 when they remark1 that upon an exact scrutiny1 a contrariety of effects always betrays a contrariety of causes1 and proceeds from their mutual hinderance and opposition4 ,a peasant can give no better reason for the stopping of any clock or watch than to say1 that commonly it does not go right3 but an artisan easily perceives1 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 betwixt all causes and effects is equally necessary1 and that its seeming uncertainty in some instances proceeds from the secret opposition of contrary causes4 ,but however philosophers and the vulgar may differ in their explication of the contrariety of events1 their inferences from it are always of the same kind1 and founded on the same principles4 ,a contrariety of events in the past may give us a kind of hesitating belief for the future1 after two several ways4 ,first1 by producing an imperfect habit and transition from the present impression to the related idea4 ,when the conjunction of any two objects is frequent1 without being entirely constant1 the mind is determined to pass from one object to the other2 but not with so entire a habit1 as when the union is uninterrupted1 and all the instances we have ever met with are uniform and of a piece4 ,we find from common experience1 in our actions as well as reasonings1 that a constant perseverance in any course of life produces a strong inclination and tendency to continue for the future2 though there are habits of inferior degrees of force1 proportioned to the inferior degrees of steadiness and uniformity in our conduct4 ,there is no doubt but this principle sometimes takes place1 and produces those inferences we draw from contrary phenomena2 though ,i am persuaded that1 upon examination1 we shall not find it to be the principle that most commonly influences the mind in this species of reasoning4 ,when we follow only the habitual determination of the mind1 we make the transition without any reflection1 and interpose not a moment's delay betwixt the view of one object1 and the belief of that which is often found to attend it4 ,as the custom depends not upon any deliberation1 it operates immediately1 without allowing any time for reflection4 ,but this method of proceeding we have but few instances of in our probable reasonings2 and even fewer than in those1 which are derived from the uninterrupted conjunction of objects4 ,in the former species of reasoning we commonly take knowingly into consideration the contrariety of past events2 we compare the different sides of the contrariety1 and carefully weigh the experiments1 which we have on each side3 whence we may conclude1 that our reasonings of this kind arise not directly from the habit1 but in an oblique manner2 which we must now endeavour to explain4 ',tis evident1 that when an object is attended with contrary effects1 we judge of them only by our past experience1 and always consider those as possible1 which we have observed to follow from it4 ,and as past experience regulates our judgment concerning the possibility of these effects1 so it does that concerning their probability2 and that effect1 which has been the most common1 we always esteem the most likely4 ,here then are two things to be considered1 viz4 the reasons which determine us to make the past a standard for the future1 and the manner how we extract a single judgment from a contrariety of past events4 ,first we may observe1 that the supposition1 that the future resembles the past1 is not founded on arguments of any kind1 but is derived entirely from habit1 by which we are determined to expect for the future the same train of objects to which we have been accustomed4 ,this habit or determination to transfer the past to the future is full and perfect2 and consequently the first impulse of the imagination in this species of reasoning is endowed with the same qualities4 ,but1 secondly1 when in considering past experiments we find them of a contrary nature1 this determination1 though full and perfect in itself1 presents us with no steady object1 but offers us a number of disagreeing images in a certain order and proportion4 ,the first impulse therefore is here broke into pieces1 and diffuses itself over all those images1 of which each partakes an equal share of that force and vivacity that is derived from the impulse4 ,any of these past events may again happen2 and we judge1 that when they do happen1 they will be mixed in the same proportion as in the past4 ,if our intention1 therefore1 be to consider the proportions of contrary events in a great number of instances1 the images presented by our past experience must remain in their first form1 and preserve their first proportions4 ,suppose1 for instance1 ,i have found1 by long observation1 that of twenty ships which go to sea1 only nineteen return4 ,suppose ,i see at present twenty ships that leave the port3 ,i transfer my past experience to the future1 and represent to myself nineteen of these ships as returning in safety1 and one as perishing4 ,concerning this there can be no difficulty4 ,but as we frequently run over those several ideas of past events1 in order to form a judgment concerning one single event1 which appears uncertain2 this consideration must change the first form of our ideas1 and draw together the divided images presented by experience2 since 'tis to it we refer the determination of that particular event1 upon which we reason4 ,many of these images are supposed to concur1 and a superior number to concur on one side4 ,these agreeing images unite together1 and render the idea more strong and lively1 not only than a mere fiction of the imagination1 but also than any idea1 which is supported by a lesser number of experiments4 ,each new experiment is as a new stroke of the pencil1 which bestows an additional vivacity on the colours1 without either multiplying or enlarging the figure4 ,this operation of the mind has been so fully explained in treating of the probability of chance1 that ,i need not here endeavour to render it more intelligible4 ,every past experiment may be considered as a kind of chance2 it being uncertain to us1 whether the object will exist conformable to one experiment or another3 and for this reason every thing that has been said on the one subject is applicable to both4 ,thus1 upon the whole1 contrary experiments produce an imperfect belief1 either by weakening the habit1 or by dividing and afterwards joining in different parts1 that perfect habit1 which makes us conclude in general1 that instances1 of which we have no experience1 must necessarily resemble those of which we have4 ,to justify still farther this account of the second species of probability1 where we reason with knowledge and reflection from a contrariety of past experiments1 ,i shall propose the following considerations1 without fearing to give offence by that air of subtilty1 which attends them4 ,just reasoning ought still1 perhaps1 to retain its force1 however subtile2 in the same manner as matter preserves its solidity in the air1 and fire1 and animal spirits1 as well as in the grosser and more sensible forms4 ,first1 we may observe1 that there is no probability so great as not to allow of a contrary possibility2 because otherwise 'twould cease to be a probability1 and would become a certainty4 ,that probability of causes1 which is most extensive1 and which we at present examine1 depends on a contrariety of experiments2 and 'tis evident an experiment in the past proves at least a possibility for the future4 ,secondly1 the component parts of this possibility and probability are of the same nature1 and differ in number only1 but not in kind4 ,it has been observed1 that all single chances are entirely equal1 and that the only circumstance1 which can give any event that is contingent a superiority over another1 is a superior number of chances4 ,in like manner1 as the uncertainty of causes is discovered by experience1 which presents us with a view of contrary events1 'tis plain that1 when we transfer the past to the future1 the known to the unknown1 every past experiment has the same weight1 and that 'tis only a superior number of them1 which can throw the balance on any side4 ,the possibility1 therefore1 which enters into every reasoning of this kind1 is composed of parts1 which are of the same nature both among themselves1 and with those that compose the opposite probability4 ,thirdly1 we may establish it as a certain maxim1 that in all moral as well as natural phenomena1 wherever any cause consists of a number of parts1 and the effect increases or diminishes1 according to the variation of that number1 the effect1 properly speaking1 is a compounded one1 and arises from the union of the several effects1 that proceed from each part of the cause4 ,thus1 because the gravity of a body increases or diminishes by the increase or diminution of its parts1 we conclude that each part contains this quality1 and contributes to the gravity of the whole4 ,the absence or presence of a part of the cause is attended with that of a proportionable part of the effect4 ,this connexion or constant conjunction sufficiently proves the one part to be the cause of the other4 ,as the belief1 which we have of any event1 increases or diminishes according to the number of chances or past experiments1 'tis to be considered as a compounded effect1 of which each part arises from a proportionable number of chances or experiments4 ,let us now join these three observations1 and see what conclusion we can draw from them4 ,to every probability there is an opposite possibility4 ,this possibility is composed of parts that are entirely of the same nature with those of the probability2 and consequently have the same influence on the mind and understanding4 ,the belief which attends the probability1 is a compounded effect1 and is formed by the concurrence of the several effects1 which proceed from each part of the probability4 ,since1 therefore1 each part of the probability contributes to the production of the belief1 each part of the possibility must have the same influence on the opposite side2 the nature of these parts being entirely the same4 ,the contrary belief attending the possibility1 implies a view of a certain object1 as well as the probability does an opposite view4 ,in this particular1 both these degrees of belief are alike4 ,the only manner then1 in which the superior number of similar component parts in the one can exert its influence1 and prevail above the inferior in the other1 is by producing a stronger and more lively view of its object4 ,each part presents a particular view2 and all these views uniting together produce one general view1 which is fuller and more distinct by the greater number of causes or principles from which it is derived4 ,the component parts of the probability and possibility being alike in their nature1 must produce like effects2 and the likeness of their effects consists in this1 that each of them presents a view of a particular object4 ,but though these parts be alike in their nature1 they are very different in their quantity and number2 and this difference must appear in the effect as well as the similarity4 ,now1 as the view they present is in both cases full and entire1 and comprehends the object in all its parts1 'tis impossible that1 in this particular1 there can be any difference2 nor is there any thing but a superior vivacity in the probability1 arising from the concurrence of a superior number of views1 which can distinguish these effects4 ,here is almost the same argument in a different light4 ,all our reasonings concerning the probability of causes are founded on the transferring of past to future4 ,the transferring of any past experiment to the future is sufficient to give us a view of the object2 whether that experiment be single or combined with others of the same kind2 whether it be entire1 or opposed by others of a contrary kind4 ,suppose then it acquires both these qualities of combination and opposition1 it loses not1 upon that account1 its former power of presenting a view of the object1 but only concurs with and opposes other experiments that have a like influence4 ,a question1 therefore1 may arise concerning the manner both of the concurrence and opposition4 ,as to the concurrence there is only the choice left betwixt these two hypotheses4 ,first1 that the view of the object1 occasioned by the transference of each past experiment1 preserves itself entire1 and only multiplies the number of views4 ,or1 secondly1 that it runs into the other similar and correspondent views1 and gives them a superior degree of force and vivacity4 ,but that the first hypothesis is erroneous1 is evident from experience1 which informs us1 that the belief attending any reasoning consists in one conclusion1 not in a multitude of similar ones1 which would only distract the mind1 and1 in many cases1 would be too numerous to be comprehended distinctly by any finite capacity4 ,it remains1 therefore1 as the only reasonable opinion1 that these similar views run into each other and unite their forces2 so as to produce a stronger and clearer view than what arises from any one alone4 ,this is the manner in which past experiments concur when they are transferred to any future event4 ,as to the manner of their opposition1'tis evident that1 as the contrary views are incompatible with each other1 and 'tis impossible the object can at once exist conformable to both of them1 their influence becomes mutually destructive1 and the mind is determined to the superior only with that force which remains after subtracting the inferior4 ,i am sensible how abstruse all this reasoning must appear to the generality of readers1 who1 not being accustomed to such profound reflections on the intellectual faculties of the mind1 will be apt to reject as chimerical whatever strikes not in with the common received notions1 and with the easiest and most obvious principles of philosophy4 ,and1 no doubt1 there are some pains required to enter into these arguments2 though perhaps very little are necessary to perceive the imperfection of every vulgar hypothesis on this subject1 and the little light1 which philosophy can yet afford us in such sublime and such curious speculations4 ,let men be once fully persuaded of these two principles1 that there is nothing in any object1 considered in itself1 which can afford us a reason for drawing a conclusion beyond it2 and1 that even after the observation of the frequent or constant conjunction of objects1 we have no reason to draw any inference concerning any object beyond those of which we have had experience2 ,i say1 let men be once fully convinced of these two principles1 and this will throw them so loose from all common systems1 that they will make no difficulty of receiving any1 which may appear the most extraordinary4 ,these principles we have found to be sufficiently convincing1 even with regard to our most certain reasonings from causation3 but ,i shall venture to affirm1 that with regard to these conjectural or probable reasonings they still acquire a new degree of evidence4 ,first1'tis obvious that1 in reasonings of this kind1 'tis not the object presented to us1 which1 considered in itself1 affords us any reason to draw a conclusion concerning any other object or event4 ,for as this latter object is supposed uncertain1 and as the uncertainty is derived from a concealed contrariety of causes in the former1 were any of the causes placed in the known qualities of that object1 they would no longer be concealed1 nor would our conclusion be uncertain4 ,but1 secondly1'tis equally obvious in this species of reasoning1 that if the transference of the past to the future were founded merely on a conclusion of the understanding1 it could never occasion any belief or assurance4 ,when we transfer contrary experiments to the future1 we can only repeat these contrary experiments with their particular proportions2 which could not produce assurance in any single event upon which we reason1 unless the fancy melted together all those images that concur1 and extracted from them one single idea or image1 which is intense and lively in proportion to the number of experiments from which it is derived1 and their superiority above their antagonists4 ,our past experience presents no determinate object2 and as our belief1 however faint1 fixes itself on a determinate object1 'tis evident that the belief arises not merely from the transference of past to future1 but from some operation of the fancy conjoined with it4 ,this may lead us to conceive the manner in which that faculty enters into all our reasonings4 ,i shall conclude this subject with two reflections which may deserve our attention4 ,the first may be explained after this manner3 ,when the mind forms a reasoning concerning any matter of fact1 which is only probable1 it casts its eye backward upon past experience1 and1 transferring it to the future1 is presented with so many contrary views of its object1 of which those that are of the same kind uniting together and running into one act of the mind1 serve to fortify and enliven it4 ,but suppose that this multitude of views or glimpses of an object proceeds not from experience1 but from a voluntary act of the imagination2 this effect does not follow1 or1 at least1 follows not in the same degree4 ,for though custom and education produce belief by such a repetition as is not derived from experience1 yet this requires a long tract of time1 along with a very frequent and undesigned repetition4 ,in general we may pronounce1 that a person1 who would voluntarily repeat any idea in his mind1 though supported by one past experience1 would be no more inclined to believe the existence of its object1 than if he had contented himself with one survey of it4 ,beside the effect of design1 each act of the mind1 being separate and independent1 has a separate influence1 and joins not its force with that of its fellows4 ,not being united by any common object producing them1 they have no relation to each other2 and consequently make no transition or union of forces4 ,this phenomenon we shall understand better afterwards4 ,my second reflection is founded on those large probabilities which the mind can judge of1 and the minute differences it can observe betwixt them4 ,when the chances or experiments on one side amount to ten thousand1 and on the other to ten thousand and one1 the judgment gives the preference to the latter upon account of that superiority2 though 'tis plainly impossible for the mind to run over every particular view1 and distinguish the superior vivacity of the image arising from the superior number1 where the difference is so inconsiderable4 ,we have a parallel instance in the affections4 ',tis evident1 according to the principles above mentioned1 that when an object produces any passion in us1 which varies according to the different quantity of the object2 ,i say1 'tis evident1 that the passion1 properly speaking1 is not a simple emotion1 but a compounded one1 of a great number of weaker passions1 derived from a view of each part of the object2 for otherwise 'twere impossible the passion should increase by the increase of these parts4 ,thus1 a man who desires a thousand pounds has1 in reality1 a thousand or more desires which1 uniting together1 seem to make only one passion2 though the composition evidently betrays itself upon every alteration of the object1 by the preference he gives to the larger number1 if superior only by an unit4 ,yet nothing can be more certain1 than that so small a difference would not be discernible in the passions1 nor could render them distinguishable from each other4 ,the difference1 therefore1 of our conduct in preferring the greater number depends not upon our passions1 but upon custom and general rules4 ,we have found in a multitude of instances that the augmenting the numbers of any sum augments the passion1 where the numbers are precise and the difference sensible4 ,the mind can perceive1 from its immediate feeling1 that three guineas produce a greater passion than two2 and this it transfers to larger numbers1 because of the resemblance2 and by a general rule assigns to a thousand guineas a stronger passion than to nine hundred and ninety-nine4 ,these general rules we shall explain presently4 ,but beside these two species of probability1 which are derived from an imperfect experience and from contrary causes1 there is a third arising from analogy1 which differs from them in some material circumstances4 ,according to the hypothesis above explained1 all kinds of reasoning from causes or effects are founded on two particulars1 viz4 the constant conjunction of any two objects in all past experience1 and the resemblance of a present object to any one of them4 ,the effect of these two particulars is1 that the present object invigorates and enlivens the imagination2 and the resemblance1 along with the constant union1 conveys this force and vivacity to the related idea2 which we are therefore said to believe or assent to4 ,if you weaken either the union or resemblance1 you weaken the principle of transition1 and of consequence that belief which arises from it4 ,the vivacity of the first impression cannot be fully conveyed to the related idea1 either where the conjunction of their objects is not constant1 or where the present impression does not perfectly resemble any of those whose union we are accustomed to observe4 ,in those probabilities of chance and causes above explained1 'tis the constancy of the union which is diminished2 and in the probability derived from analogy1 'tis the resemblance only which is affected4 ,without some degree of resemblance1 as well as union1 'tis impossible there can be any reasoning4 ,but as this resemblance admits of many different degrees1 the reasoning becomes proportionably more or less firm and certain4 ,an experiment loses of its force1 when transferred to instances which are not exactly resembling2 though 'tis evident it may still retain as much as may be the foundation of probability1 as long as there is any resemblance remaining4 ,,section ,,xiii4 ,,of ,,unphilosophical ,,probability4 ,all these kinds of probability are received by philosophers1 and allowed to be reasonable foundations of belief and opinion4 ,but there are others that are derived from the same principles1 though they have not had the good fortune to obtain the same sanction4 ,the first probability of this kind may be accounted for thus4 ,the diminution of the union and of the resemblance1 as above explained1 diminishes the facility of the transition1 and by that means weakens the evidence2 and we may farther observe1 that the same diminution of the evidence will follow from a diminution of the impression1 and from the shading of those colours under which it appears to the memory or senses4 ,the argument which we found on any matter of fact we remember is more or less convincing1 according as the fact is recent or remote2 and though the difference in these degrees of evidence be not received by philosophy as solid and legitimate2 because in that case an argument must have a different force to-day from what it shall have a month hence2 yet1 notwithstanding the opposition of philosophy1 'tis certain this circumstance has a considerable influence on the understanding1 and secretly changes the authority of the same argument1 according to the different times in which it is proposed to us4 ,a greater force and vivacity in the impression naturally conveys a greater to the related idea2 and 'tis on the degrees of force and vivacity that the belief depends1 according to the foregoing system4 ,there is a second difference which we may frequently observe in our degrees of belief and assurance1 and which never fails to take place1 though disclaimed by philosophers4 ,an experiment that is recent and fresh in the memory1 affects us more than one that is in some measure obliterated2 and has a superior influence on the judgment as well as on the passions4 ,a lively impression produces more assurance than a faint one1 because it has more original force to communicate to the related idea1 which thereby acquires a greater force and vivacity4 ,a recent observation has a like effect2 because the custom and transition is there more entire1 and preserves better the original force in the communication4 ,thus a drunkard1 who has seen his companion die of a debauch1 is struck with that instance for some time1 and dreads a like accident for himself2 but as the memory of it decays away by degrees1 his former security returns1 and the danger seems less certain and real4 ,i add1 as a third instance of this kind1 that though our reasonings from proofs and from probabilities be considerably different from each other1 yet the former species of reasoning often degenerates insensibly into the latter1 by nothing but the multitude of connected arguments4 ',tis certain1 that when an inference is drawn immediately from an object1 without any intermediate cause or effect1 the conviction is much stronger1 and the persuasion more lively1 than when the imagination is carried through a long chain of connected arguments1 however infallible the connexion of each link may be esteemed4 ',tis from the original impression that the vivacity of all the ideas is derived1 by means of the customary transition of the imagination2 and 'tis evident this vivacity must gradually decay in proportion to the distance1 and must lose somewhat in each transition4 ,sometimes this distance has a greater influence than even contrary experiments would have2 and a man may receive a more lively conviction from a probable reasoning which is close and immediate1 than from a long chain of consequences1 though just and conclusive in each part4 ,nay1 'tis seldom such reasonings produce any conviction2 and one must have a very strong and firm imagination to preserve the evidence to the end1 where it passes through so many stages4 ,but here it may not be amiss to remark a very curious phenomenon which the present subject suggests to us4 ',tis evident there is no point of ancient history1 of which we can have any assurance1 but by passing through many millions of causes and effects1 and through a chain of arguments of almost an immeasurable length4 ,before the knowledge of the fact could come to the first historian1 it must be conveyed through many mouths2 and after it is committed to writing1 each new copy is a new object1 of which the connexion with the foregoing is known only by experience and observation4 ,perhaps therefore it may be concluded1 from the precedent reasoning1 that the evidence of all ancient history must now be lost1 or at least will be lost in time1 as the chain of causes increases1 and runs on to a greater length4 ,but as it seems contrary to common sense to think1 that if the republic of letters and the art of printing continue on the same footing as at present1 our posterity1 even after a thousand ages1 can ever doubt if there has been such a man as ,julius ,csar2 this may be considered as an objection to the present system4 ,if belief consisted only in a certain vivacity1 conveyed from an original impression1 it would decay by the length of the transition1 and must at last be utterly extinguished4 ,and1 vice versa1 if belief1 on some occasions1 be not capable of such an extinction1 it must be something different from that vivacity4 ,before ,i answer this objection ,i shall observe1 that from this topic there has been borrowed a very celebrated argument against the ,christian ,religion2 but with this difference1 that the connexion betwixt each link of the chain in human testimony has been there supposed not to go beyond probability1 and to be liable to a degree of doubt and uncertainty4 ,and indeed it must be confessed1 that in this manner of considering the subject 7which1 however1 is not a true one71 there is no history or tradition but what must in the end lose all its force and evidence4 ,every new probability diminishes the original conviction2 and1 however great that conviction may be supposed1 'tis impossible it can subsist under such reiterated diminutions4 ,this is true in general1 though we shall find afterwards1#i that there is one very memorable exception1 which is of vast consequence in the present subject of the understanding4 ,meanwhile1 to give a solution of the preceding objection upon the supposition that historical evidence amounts at first to an entire proof1 let us consider1 that1 though the links are innumerable that connect any original fact with the present impression1 which is the foundation of belief1 yet they are all of the same kind1 and depend on the fidelity of printers and copyists4 ,one edition passes into another1 and that into a third1 and so on1 till we come to that volume we peruse at present4 ,there is no variation in the steps4 ,after we know one1 we know all of them2 and after we have made one1 we can have no scruple as to the rest4 ,this circumstance alone preserves the evidence of history1 and will perpetuate the memory of the present age to the latest posterity4 ,if all the long chain of causes and effects1 which connect any past event with any volume of history1 were composed of parts different from each other1 and which 'twere necessary for the mind distinctly to conceive1 'tis impossible we should preserve to the end any belief or evidence4 ,but as most of these proofs are perfectly resembling1 the mind runs easily along them1 jumps from one part to another with facility1 and forms but a confused and general notion of each link4 ,by this means1 a long chain of argument has as little effect in diminishing the original vivacity1 as a much shorter would have if composed of parts which were different from each other1 and of which each required a distinct consideration4 ,a fourth unphilosophical species of probability is that derived from general rules1 which we rashly form to ourselves1 and which are the source of what we properly call prejudice4 ,an ,irishman cannot have wit1 and a ,frenchman cannot have solidity2 for which reason1 though the conversation of the former in any instance be visibly very agreeable1 and of the latter very judicious1 we have entertained such a prejudice against them1 that they must be dunces or fops in spite of sense and reason4 ,human nature is very subject to errors of this kind1 and perhaps this nation as much as any other4 ,should it be demanded why men form general rules1 and allow them to influence their judgment1 even contrary to present observation and experience1 ,i should reply1 that in my opinion it proceeds from those very principles on which all judgments concerning causes and effects depend4 ,our judgments concerning cause and effect are derived from habit and experience2 and when we have been accustomed to see one object united to another1 our imagination passes from the first to the second by a natural transition1 which precedes reflection1 and which cannot be prevented by it4 ,now1 'tis the nature of custom not only to operate with its full force1 when objects are presented that are exactly the same with those to which we have been accustomed1 but also to operate in an inferior degree when we discover such as are similar2 and though the habit loses somewhat of its force by every difference1 yet 'tis seldom entirely destroyed where any considerable circumstances remain the same4 ,a man who has contracted a custom of eating fruit by the use of pears or peaches1 will satisfy himself with melons where he cannot find his favourite fruit2 as one1 who has become a drunkard by the use of red wines1 will be carried almost with the same violence to white1 if presented to him4 ,from this principle ,i have accounted for that species of probability1 derived from analogy1 where we transfer our experience in past instances to objects which are resembling1 but are not exactly the same with those concerning which we have had experience4 ,in proportion as the resemblance decays1 the probability diminishes1 but still has some force as long as there remain any traces of the resemblance4 ,this observation we may carry farther1 and may remark1 that though custom be the foundation of all our judgments1 yet sometimes it has an effect on the imagination in opposition to the judgment1 and produces a contrariety in our sentiments concerning the same object4 ,i explain myself4 ,in almost all kinds of causes there is a complication of circumstances1 of which some are essential1 and others superfluous2 some are absolutely requisite to the production of the effect1 and others are only conjoined by accident4 ,now we may observe1 that when these superfluous circumstances are numerous and remarkable1 and frequently conjoined with the essential1 they have such an influence on the imagination1 that even in the absence of the latter they carry us on to the conception of the usual effect1 and give to that conception a force and vivacity which make it superior to the mere fictions of the fancy4 ,we may correct this propensity by a reflection on the nature of those circumstances2 but 'tis still certain1 that custom takes the start1 and gives a bias to the imagination4 ,to illustrate this by a familiar instance1 let us consider the case of a man1 who1 being hung out from a high tower in a cage of iron1 cannot forbear trembling when he surveys the precipice below him1 though he knows himself to be perfectly secure from falling1 by his experience of the solidity of the iron which supports him1 and though the ideas of fall and descent1 and harm and death1 be derived solely from custom and experience4 ,the same custom goes beyond the instances from which it is derived1 and to which it perfectly corresponds2 and influences his ideas of such objects as are in some respect resembling1 but fall not precisely under the same rule4 ,the circumstances of depth and descent strike so strongly upon him1 that their influence cannot be destroyed by the contrary circumstances of support and solidity1 which ought to give him a perfect security4 ,his imagination runs away with its object1 and excites a passion proportioned to it4 ,that passion returns back upon the imagination1 and enlivens the idea2 which lively idea has a new influence on the passion1 and in its turn augments its force and violence3 and both his fancy and affections1 thus mutually supporting each other1 cause the whole to have a very great influence upon him4 ,but why need we seek for other instances1 while the present subject of philosophical probabilities offers us so obvious an one1 in the opposition betwixt the judgment and imagination1 arising from these effects of custom8 ,according to my system1 all reasonings are nothing but the effects of custom1 and custom has no influence1 but by enlivening the imagination1 and giving us a strong conception of any object4 ,it may therefore be concluded1 that our judgment and imagination can never be contrary1 and that custom cannot operate on the latter faculty after such a manner1 as to render it opposite to the former4 ,this difficulty we can remove after no other manner1 than by supposing the influence of general rules4 ,we shall afterwards#aj take notice of some general rules1 by which we ought to regulate our judgment concerning causes and effects2 and these rules are formed on the nature of our understanding1 and on our experience of its operations in the judgments we form concerning objects4 ,by them we learn to distinguish the accidental circumstances from the efficacious causes2 and when we find that an effect can be produced without the concurrence of any particular circumstance1 we conclude that that circumstance makes not a part of the efficacious cause1 however frequently conjoined with it4 ,but as this frequent conjunction necessarily makes it have some effect on the imagination1 in spite of the opposite conclusion from general rules1 the opposition of these two principles produces a contrariety in our thoughts1 and causes us to ascribe the one inference to our judgment1 and the other to our imagination4 ,the general rule is attributed to our judgment1 as being more extensive and constant2 the exception to the imagination1 as being more capricious and uncertain4 ,thus1 our general rules are in a manner set in opposition to each other4 ,when an object appears1 that resembles any cause in very considerable circumstances1 the imagination naturally carries us to a lively conception of the usual effect1 though the object be different in the most material and most efficacious circumstances from that cause4 ,here is the first influence of general rules4 ,but when we take a review of this act of the mind1 and compare it with the more general and authentic operations of the understanding1 we find it to be of an irregular nature1 and destructive of all the most established principles of reasonings1 which is the cause of our rejecting it4 ,this is a second influence of general rules1 and implies the condemnation of the former4 ,sometimes the one1 sometimes the other prevails1 according to the disposition and character of the person4 ,the vulgar are commonly guided by the first1 and wise men by the second4 ,meanwhile the sceptics may here have the pleasure of observing a new and signal contradiction in our reason1 and of seeing all philosophy ready to be subverted by a principle of human nature1 and again saved by a new direction of the very same principle4 ,the following of general rules is a very unphilosophical species of probability2 and yet 'tis only by following them that we can correct this1 and all other unphilosophical probabilities4 ,since we have instances where general rules operate on the imagination1 even contrary to the judgment1 we need not be surprised to see their effects increase1 when conjoined with that latter faculty1 and to observe that they bestow on the ideas they present to us a force superior to what attends any other4 ,every one knows there is an indirect manner of insinuating praise or blame1 which is much less shocking than the open flattery or censure of any person4 ,however he may communicate his sentiments by such secret insinuations1 and make them known with equal certainty as by the open discovery of them1 'tis certain that their influence is not equally strong and powerful4 ,one who lashes me with concealed strokes of satire1 moves not my indignation to such a degree1 as if he flatly told me ,i was a fool and a coxcomb2 though ,i equally understand his meaning1 as if he did4 ,this difference is to be attributed to the influence of general rules4 ,whether a person openly abuses me1 or slily intimates his contempt1 in neither case do ,i immediately perceive his sentiment or opinion2 and 'tis only by signs1 that is1 by its effects1 ,i become sensible of it4 ,the only difference then1 betwixt these two cases1 consists in this1 that in the open discovery of his sentiments he makes use of signs1 which are general and universal2 and in the secret intimation employs such as are more singular and uncommon4 ,the effect of this circumstance is1 that the imagination1 in running from the present impression to the absent idea1 makes the transition with greater facility1 and consequently conceives the object with greater force1 where the connexion is common and universal1 than where it is more rare and particular4 ,accordingly1 we may observe1 that the open declaration of our sentiments is called the taking off the mask1 as the secret intimation of our opinions is said to be the veiling of them4 ,the difference betwixt an idea produced by a general connexion1 and that arising from a particular one1 is here compared to the difference betwixt an impression and an idea4 ,this difference in the imagination has a suitable effect on the passions1 and this effect is augmented by another circumstance4 ,a secret intimation of anger or contempt shows that we still have some consideration for the person1 and avoid the directly abusing him4 ,this makes a concealed satire less disagreeable1 but still this depends on the same principle4 ,for if an idea were not more feeble1 when only intimated1 it would never be esteemed a mark of greater respect to proceed in this method than in the other4 ,sometimes scurrility is less displeasing than delicate satire1 because it revenges us in a manner for the injury at the very time it is committed1 by affording us a just reason to blame and contemn the person who injures us4 ,but this phenomenon likewise depends upon the same principle4 ,for why do we blame all gross and injurious language1 unless it be1 because we esteem it contrary to good breeding and humanity8 ,and why is it contrary1 unless it be more shocking than any delicate satire8 ,the rules of good breeding condemn whatever is openly disobliging1 and gives a sensible pain and confusion to those with whom we converse4 ,after this is once established1 abusive language is universally blamed1 and gives less pain upon account of its coarseness and incivility1 which render the person despicable that employs it4 ,it becomes less disagreeable1 merely because originally it is more so2 and 'tis more disagreeable1 because it affords an inference by general and common rules that are palpable and undeniable4 ,to this explication of the different influence of open and concealed flattery or satire1 ,i shall add the consideration of another phenomenon1 which is analogous to it4 ,there are many particulars in the point of honour1 both of men and women1 whose violations1 when open and avowed1 the world never excuses1 but which it is more apt to overlook1 when the appearances are saved1 and the transgression is secret and concealed4 ,even those who know with equal certainty that the fault is committed1 pardon it more easily1 when the proofs seem in some measure oblique and equivocal1 than when they are direct and undeniable4 ,the same idea is presented in both cases1 and1 properly speaking1 is equally assented to by the judgment2 and yet its influence is different1 because of the different manner in which it is presented4 ,now1 if we compare these two cases1 of the open and concealed violations of the laws of honour1 we shall find1 that the difference betwixt them consists in this1 that in the first case the sign1 from which we infer the blameable action1 is single1 and suffices alone to be the foundation of our reasoning and judgment2 whereas in the latter the signs are numerous1 and decide little or nothing when alone and unaccompanied with many minute circumstances1 which are almost imperceptible4 ,but 'tis certainly true1 that any reasoning is always the more convincing1 the more single and united it is to the eye1 and the less exercise it gives to the imagination to collect all its parts1 and run from them to the correlative idea1 which forms the conclusion4 ,the labour of the thought disturbs the regular progress of the sentiments1 as we shall observe presently4#aa ,the idea strikes not on us with such vivacity1 and consequently has no such influence on the passion and imagination4 ,from the same principles we may account for those observations of the ,cardinal de ,retz1 that there are many things in which the world wishes to be deceived1 and that it more easily excuses a person in acting than in talking contrary to the decorum of his profession and character4 ,a fault in words is commonly more open and distinct than one in actions1 which admit of many palliating excuses1 and decide not so clearly concerning the intention and views of the actor4 ,thus it appears1 upon the whole1 that every kind of opinion or judgment which amounts not to knowledge1 is derived entirely from the force and vivacity of the perception1 and that these qualities constitute in the mind what we call the belief of the existence of any object4 ,this force and this vivacity are most conspicuous in the memory2 and therefore our confidence in the veracity of that faculty is the greatest imaginable1 and equals in many respects the assurance of a demonstration4 ,the next degree of these qualities is that derived from the relation of cause and effect2 and this too is very great1 especially when the conjunction is found by experience to be perfectly constant1 and when the object1 which is present to us1 exactly resembles those1 of which we have had experience4 ,but below this degree of evidence there are many others1 which have an influence on the passions and imagination1 proportioned to that degree of force and vivacity1 which they communicate to the ideas4 ',tis by habit we make the transition from cause to effect2 and 'tis from some present impression we borrow that vivacity1 which we diffuse over the correlative idea4 ,but when we have not observed a sufficient number of instances to produce a strong habit2 or when these instances are contrary to each other2 or when the resemblance is not exact2 or the present impression is faint and obscure2 or the experience in some measure obliterated from the memory2 or the connexion dependent on a long chain of objects2 or the inference derived from general rules1 and yet not conformable to them3 in all these cases the evidence diminishes by the diminution of the force and intenseness of the idea4 ,this therefore is the nature of the judgment and probability4 ,what principally gives authority to this system is1 beside the undoubted arguments1 upon which each part is founded1 the agreement of these parts1 and the necessity of one to explain another4 ,the belief which attends our memory is of the same nature with that which is derived from our judgments3 nor is there any difference betwixt that judgment which is derived from a constant and uniform connexion of causes and effects1 and that which depends upon an interrupted and uncertain4 ',tis indeed evident1 that in all determinations where the mind decides from contrary experiments1 'tis first divided within itself1 and has an inclination to either side in proportion to the number of experiments we have seen and remember4 ,this contest is at last determined to the advantage of that side where we observe a superior number of these experiments2 but still with a diminution of force in the evidence correspondent to the number of the opposite experiments4 ,each possibility1 of which the probability is composed1 operates separately upon the imagination2 and 'tis the larger collection of possibilities1 which at last prevails1 and that with a force proportionable to its superiority4 ,all these phenomena lead directly to the precedent system2 nor will it ever be possible upon any other principles to give a satisfactory and consistent explication of them4 ,without considering these judgments as the effects of custom on the imagination1 we shall lose ourselves in perpetual contradiction and absurdity4 #i ,part ,,iv4 ,sect4 #a4 #aj ,sect4 #ae4 #aa ,part ,,iv4 ,sect4 #a4 ,,section ,,xiv4 ,,of ,,the ,,idea ,,of ,,necessary ,,connexion4 ,having thus explained the manner in which we reason beyond our immediate impressions1 and conclude that such particular causes must have such particular effects2 we must now return upon our footsteps to examine that question#ab which first occurred to us1 and which we dropped in our way1 viz4 ,what is our idea of necessity1 when we say that two objects are necessarily connected together8 ,upon this head ,i repeat1 what ,i have often had occasion to observe1 that as we have no idea that is not derived from an impression1 we must find some impression that gives rise to this idea of necessity1 if we assert we have really such an idea4 ,in order to this1 ,i consider in what objects necessity is commonly supposed to lie2 and1 finding that it is always ascribed to causes and effects1 ,i turn my eye to two objects supposed to be placed in that relation1 and examine them in all the situations of which they are susceptible4 ,i immediately perceive that they are contiguous in time and place1 and that the object we call cause precedes the other we call effect4 ,in no one instance can ,i go any farther1 nor is it possible for me to discover any third relation betwixt these objects4 ,i therefore enlarge my view to comprehend several instances1 where ,i find like objects always existing in like relations of contiguity and succession4 ,at first sight this seems to serve but little to my purpose4 ,the reflection on several instances only repeats the same objects2 and therefore can never give rise to a new idea4 ,but upon farther inquiry ,i find1 that the repetition is not in every particular the same1 but produces a new impression1 and by that means the idea which ,i at present examine4 ,for after a frequent repetition ,i find1 that upon the appearance of one of the objects1 the mind is determined by custom to consider its usual attendant1 and to consider it in a stronger light upon account of its relation to the first object4 ',tis this impression1 then1 or determination1 which affords me the idea of necessity4 ,i doubt not but these consequences will at first sight be received without difficulty1 as being evident deductions from principles which we have already established1 and which we have often employed in our reasonings4 ,this evidence1 both in the first principles and in the deductions1 may seduce us unwarily into the conclusion1 and make us imagine it contains nothing extraordinary1 nor worthy of our curiosity4 ,but though such an inadvertence may facilitate the reception of this reasoning1 'twill make it be the more easily forgot2 for which reason ,i think it proper to give warning1 that ,i have just now examined one of the most sublime questions in philosophy1 viz4 that concerning the power and efficacy of causes1 where all the sciences seem so much interested4 ,such a warning will naturally rouse up the attention of the reader1 and make him desire a more full account of my doctrine1 as well as of the arguments on which it is founded4 ,this request is so reasonable1 that ,i cannot refuse complying with it2 especially as ,i am hopeful that these principles1 the more they are examined1 will acquire the more force and evidence4 ,there is no question which1 on account of its importance1 as well as difficulty1 has caused more disputes both among ancient and modern philosophers1 than this concerning the efficacy of causes1 or that quality which makes them be followed by their effects4 ,but before they entered upon these disputes1 methinks it would not have been improper to have examined what idea we have of that efficacy1 which is the subject of the controversy4 ,this is what ,i find principally wanting in their reasonings1 and what ,i shall here endeavour to supply4 ,i begin with observing1 that the terms of efficacy1 agency1 power1 force1 energy1 necessity1 connexion1 and productive quality1 are all nearly synonymous2 and therefore 'tis an absurdity to employ any of them in defining the rest4 ,by this observation we reject at once all the vulgar definitions which philosophers have given of power and efficacy2 and instead of searching for the idea in these definitions1 must look for it in the impressions from which it is originally derived4 ,if it be a compound idea1 it must arise from compound impressions4 ,if simple1 from simple impressions4 ,i believe the most general and most popular explication of this matter1 is to say1#ac that finding from experience that there are several new productions in matter1 such as the motions and variations of body1 and concluding that there must somewhere be a power capable of producing them1 we arrive at last by this reasoning at the idea of power and efficacy4 ,but to be convinced that this explication is more popular than philosophical1 we need but reflect on two very obvious principles4 ,first1 that reason alone can never give rise to any original idea2 and1 secondly1 that reason1 as distinguished from experience1 can never make us conclude that a cause or productive quality is absolutely requisite to every beginning of existence4 ,both these considerations have been sufficiently explained2 and therefore shall not at present be any farther insisted on4 ,i shall only infer from them1 that since reason can never give rise to the idea of efficacy1 that idea must be derived from experience1 and from some particular instances of this efficacy1 which make their passage into the mind by the common channels of sensation or reflection4 ,ideas always represent their objects or impressions2 and vice versa1 there are some objects necessary to give rise to every idea4 ,if we pretend1 therefore1 to have any just idea of this efficacy1 we must produce some instance wherein the efficacy is plainly discoverable to the mind1 and its operations obvious to our consciousness or sensation4 ,by the refusal of this1 we acknowledge1 that the idea is impossible and imaginary2 since the principle of innate ideas1 which alone can save us from this dilemma1 has been already refuted1 and is now almost universally rejected in the learned world4 ,our present business1 then1 must be to find some natural production1 where the operation and efficacy of a cause can be clearly conceived and comprehended by the mind1 without any danger of obscurity or mistake4 ,in this research1 we meet with very little encouragement from that prodigious diversity which is found in the opinions of those philosophers who have pretended to explain the secret force and energy of causes4#ad ,there are some who maintain1 that bodies operate by their substantial form2 others1 by their accidents or qualities2 several1 by their matter and form2 some1 by their form and accidents2 others1 by certain virtues and faculties distinct from all this4 ,all these sentiments1 again1 are mixed and varied in a thousand different ways1 and form a strong presumption that none of them have any solidity or evidence1 and that the supposition of an efficacy in any of the known qualities of matter is entirely without foundation4 ,this presumption must increase upon us1 when we consider1 that these principles of substantial forms1 and accidents1 and faculties1 are not in reality any of the known properties of bodies1 but are perfectly unintelligible and inexplicable4 ,for 'tis evident philosophers would never have had recourse to such obscure and uncertain principles1 had they met with any satisfaction in such as are clear and intelligible2 especially in such an affair as this1 which must be an object of the simplest understanding1 if not of the senses4 ,upon the whole1 we may conclude1 that 'tis impossible1 in any one instance1 to show the principle in which the force and agency of a cause is placed2 and that the most refined and most vulgar understandings are equally at a loss in this particular4 ,if any one think proper to refute this assertion1 he need not put himself to the trouble of inventing any long reasonings1 but may at once show us an instance of a cause1 where we discover the power or operating principle4 ,this defiance we are obliged frequently to make use of1 as being almost the only means of proving a negative in philosophy4 ,the small success which has been met with in all the attempts to fix this power1 has at last obliged philosophers to conclude1 that the ultimate force and efficacy of nature is perfectly unknown to us1 and that 'tis in vain we search for it in all the known qualities of matter4 ,in this opinion they are almost unanimous2 and 'tis only in the inference they draw from it1 that they discover any difference in their sentiments4 ,for some of them1 as the ,cartesians in particular1 having established it as a principle1 that we are perfectly acquainted with the essence of matter1 have very naturally inferred1 that it is endowed with no efficacy1 and that 'tis impossible for it of itself to communicate motion1 or produce any of those effects1 which we ascribe to it4 ,as the essence of matter consists in extension1 and as extension implies not actual motion1 but only mobility2 they conclude1 that the energy1 which produces the motion1 cannot lie in the extension4 ,this conclusion leads them into another1 which they regard as perfectly unavoidable4 ,matter1 say they1 is in itself entirely unactive1 and deprived of any power1 by which it may produce1 or continue1 or communicate motion3 but since these effects are evident to our senses1 and since the power that produces them must be placed somewhere1 it must lie in the ,deity1 or that ,divine ,being who contains in his nature all excellency and perfection4 ',tis the ,deity1 therefore1 who is the prime mover of the universe1 and who not only first created matter1 and gave it its original impulse1 but likewise1 by a continued exertion of omnipotence1 supports its existence1 and successively bestows on it all those motions1 and configurations1 and qualities1 with which it is endowed4 ,this opinion is certainly very curious1 and well worth our attention2 but 'twill appear superfluous to examine it in this place1 if we reflect a moment on our present purpose in taking notice of it4 ,we have established it as a principle1 that as all ideas are derived from impressions1 or some precedent perceptions1'tis impossible we can have any idea of power and efficacy1 unless some instances can be produced1 wherein this power is perceived to exert itself4 ,now1 as these instances can never be discovered in body1 the ,cartesians1 proceeding upon their principle of innate ideas1 have had recourse to a ,supreme ,spirit or ,deity1 whom they consider as the only active being in the universe1 and as the immediate cause of every alteration in matter4 ,but the principle of innate ideas being allowed to be false1 it follows1 that the supposition of a ,deity can serve us in no stead1 in accounting for that idea of agency1 which we search for in vain in all the objects which are presented to our senses1 or which we are internally conscious of in our own minds4 ,for if every idea be derived from an impression1 the idea of a ,deity proceeds from the same origin2 and if no impression1 either of sensation or reflection1 implies any force or efficacy1 'tis equally impossible to discover or even imagine any such active principle in the ,deity4 ,since these philosophers1 therefore1 have concluded that matter cannot be endowed with any efficacious principle1 because 'tis impossible to discover in it such a principle1 the same course of reasoning should determine them to exclude it from the ,supreme ,being1 or1 if they esteem that opinion absurd and impious1 as it really is1 ,i shall tell them how they may avoid it2 and that is1 by concluding from the very first1 that they have no adequate idea of power or efficacy in any object2 since neither in body nor spirit1 neither in superior nor inferior natures1 are they able to discover one single instance of it4 ,the same conclusion is unavoidable upon the hypothesis of those1 who maintain the efficacy of second causes1 and attribute a derivative1 but a real power and energy to matter4 ,for as they confess that this energy lies not in any of the known qualities of matter1 the difficulty still remains concerning the origin of its idea4 ,if we have really an idea of power1 we may attribute power to an unknown quality3 but as 'tis impossible that that idea can be derived from such a quality1 and as there is nothing in known qualities which can produce it1 it follows that we deceive ourselves1 when we imagine we are possessed of any idea of this kind1 after the manner we commonly understand it4 ,all ideas are derived from1 and represent impressions4 ,we never have any impression that contains any power or efficacy4 ,we never1 therefore1 have any idea of power4 ,some have asserted1 that we feel an energy or power in our own mind2 and that1 having in this manner acquired the idea of power1 we transfer that quality to matter1 where we are not able immediately to discover it4 ,the motions of our body1 and the thoughts and sentiments of our mind 7say they7 obey the will2 nor do we seek any farther to acquire a just notion of force or power4 ,but to convince us how fallacious this reasoning is1 we need only consider1 that the will being here considered as a cause1 has no more a discoverable connexion with its effects1 than any material cause has with its proper effect4 ,so far from perceiving the connexion betwixt an act of volition and a motion of the body1 'tis allowed that no effect is more inexplicable from the powers and essence of thought and matter4 ,nor is the empire of the will over our mind more intelligible4 ,the effect is there distinguishable and separable from the cause1 and could be foreseen without the experience of their constant conjunction4 ,we have command over our mind to a certain degree1 but beyond that lose all empire over it3 and 'tis evidently impossible to fix any precise bounds to our authority1 where we consult not experience4 ,in short1 the actions of the mind are1 in this respect1 the same with those of matter4 ,we perceive only their constant conjunction2 nor can we ever reason beyond it4 ,no internal impression has an apparent energy1 more than external objects have4 ,since1 therefore1 matter is confessed by philosophers to operate by an unknown force1 we should in vain hope to attain an idea of force by consulting our own minds4#ae ,it has been established as a certain principle1 that general or abstract ideas are nothing but individual ones taken in a certain light1 and that1 in reflecting on any object1 'tis as impossible to exclude from our thought all particular degrees of quantity and quality as from the real nature of things4 ,if we be possessed1 therefore1 of any idea of power in general1 we must also be able to conceive some particular species of it2 and as power cannot subsist alone1 but is always regarded as an attribute of some being or existence1 we must be able to place this power in some particular being1 and conceive that being as endowed with a real force and energy1 by which such a particular effect necessarily results from its operation4 ,we must distinctly and particularly conceive the connexion betwixt the cause and effect1 and be able to pronounce1 from a simple view of the one1 that it must be followed or preceded by the other4 ,this is the true manner of conceiving a particular power in a particular body3 and a general idea being impossible without an individual2 where the latter is impossible1 'tis certain the former can never exist4 ,now nothing is more evident1 than that the human mind cannot form such an idea of two objects1 as to conceive any connexion betwixt them1 or comprehend distinctly that power or efficacy1 by which they are united4 ,such a connexion would amount to a demonstration1 and would imply the absolute impossibility for the one object not to follow1 or to be conceived not to follow upon the other3 which kind of connexion has already been rejected in all cases4 ,if any one is of a contrary opinion1 and thinks he has attained a notion of power in any particular object1 ,i desire he may point out to me that object4 ,but till ,i meet with such a one1 which ,i despair of1 ,i cannot forbear concluding1 that since we can never distinctly conceive how any particular power can possibly reside in any particular object1 we deceive ourselves in imagining we can form any such general idea4 ,thus1 upon the whole1 we may infer1 that when we talk of any being1 whether of a superior or inferior nature1 as endowed with a power or force1 proportioned to any effect2 when we speak of a necessary connexion betwixt objects1 and suppose that this connexion depends upon an efficacy or energy1 with which any of these objects are endowed2 in all the expressions1 so applied1 we have really no distinct meaning1 and make use only of common words1 without any clear and determinate ideas4 ,but as 'tis more probable1 that these expressions do here lose their true meaning by being wrong applied1 than that they never have any meaning2 'twill be proper to bestow another consideration on this subject1 to see if possibly we can discover the nature and origin of those ideas we annex to them4 ,suppose two objects to be presented to us1 of which the one is the cause and the other the effect2 'tis plain that1 from the simple consideration of one1 or both these objects1 we never shall perceive the tie by which they are united1 or be able certainly to pronounce1 that there is a connexion betwixt them4 ',tis not1 therefore1 from any one instance1 that we arrive at the idea of cause and effect1 of a necessary connexion of power1 of force1 of energy1 and of efficacy4 ,did we never see any but particular conjunctions of objects1 entirely different from each other1 we should never be able to form any such ideas4 ,but1 again1 suppose we observe several instances in which the same objects are always conjoined together1 we immediately conceive a connexion betwixt them1 and begin to draw an inference from one to another4 ,this multiplicity of resembling instances1 therefore1 constitutes the very essence of power or connexion1 and is the source from which the idea of it arises4 ,in order1 then1 to understand the idea of power1 we must consider that multiplicity2 nor do ,i ask more to give a solution of that difficulty1 which has so long perplexed us4 ,for thus ,i reason4 ,the repetition of perfectly similar instances can never alone give rise to an original idea1 different from what is to be found in any particular instance1 as has been observed1 and as evidently follows from our fundamental principle1 that all ideas are copied from impressions4 ,since1 therefore1 the idea of power is a new original idea1 not to be found in any one instance1 and which yet arises from the repetition of several instances1 it follows1 that the repetition alone has not that effect1 but must either discover or produce something new1 which is the source of that idea4 ,did the repetition neither discover nor produce any thing new1 our ideas might be multiplied by it1 but would not be enlarged above what they are upon the observation of one single instance4 ,every enlargement1 therefore1 7such as the idea of power or connexion7 which arises from the multiplicity of similar instances1 is copied from some effects of the multiplicity1 and will be perfectly understood by understanding these effects4 ,wherever we find any thing new to be discovered or produced by the repetition1 there we must place the power1 and must never look for it in any other object4 ,but 'tis evident1 in the first place1 that the repetition of like objects in like relations of succession and contiguity1 discovers nothing new in any one of them2 since we can draw no inference from it1 nor make it a subject either of our demonstrative or probable reasonings2 as has been already proved4#af ,nay1 suppose we could draw an inference1 'twould be of no consequence in the present case2 since no kind of reasoning can give rise to a new idea1 such as this of power is2 but wherever we reason1 we must antecedently be possessed of clear ideas1 which may be the objects of our reasoning4 ,the conception always precedes the understanding2 and where the one is obscure1 the other is uncertain2 where the one fails1 the other must fail also4 ,secondly1 'tis certain that this repetition of similar objects in similar situations1 produces nothing new either in these objects1 or in any external body4 ,for 'twill readily be allowed1 that the several instances we have of the conjunction of resembling causes and effects1 are in themselves entirely independent1 and that the communication of motion1 which ,i see result at present from the shock of two billiard balls1 is totally distinct from that which ,i saw result from such an impulse a twelvemonth ago4 ,these impulses have no influence on each other4 ,they are entirely divided by time and place2 and the one might have existed and communicated motion1 though the other never had been in being4 ,there is1 then1 nothing new either discovered or produced in any objects by their constant conjunction1 and by the uninterrupted resemblance of their relations of succession and contiguity4 ,but 'tis from this resemblance1 that the ideas of necessity1 of power1 and of efficacy1 are derived4 ,these ideas therefore represent not any thing1 that does or can belong to the objects1 which are constantly conjoined4 ,this is an argument1 which1 in every view we can examine it1 will be found perfectly unanswerable4 ,similar instances are still the first source of our idea of power or necessity2 at the same time that they have no influence by their similarity either on each other1 or on any external object4 ,we must therefore turn ourselves to some other quarter to seek the origin of that idea4 ,though the several resembling instances1 which give rise to the idea of power1 have no influence on each other1 and can never produce any new quality in the object1 which can be the model of that idea1 yet the observation of this resemblance produces a new impression in the mind1 which is its real model4 ,for after we have observed the resemblance in a sufficient number of instances1 we immediately feel a determination of the mind to pass from one object to its usual attendant1 and to conceive it in a stronger light upon account of that relation4 ,this determination is the only effect of the resemblance2 and therefore must be the same with power or efficacy1 whose idea is derived from the resemblance4 ,the several instances of resembling conjunctions lead us into the notion of power and necessity4 ,these instances are in themselves totally distinct from each other1 and have no union but in the mind1 which observes them1 and collects their ideas4 ,necessity1 then1 is the effect of this observation1 and as nothing but an internal impression of the mind1 or a determination to carry our thoughts from one object to another4 ,without considering it in this view1 we can never arrive at the most distant notion of it1 or be able to attribute it either to external or internal objects1 to spirit or body1 to causes or effects4 ,the necessary connexion betwixt causes and effects is the foundation of our inference from one to the other4 ,the foundation of our inference is the transition arising from the accustomed union4 ,these are therefore the same4 ,the idea of necessity arises from some impression4 ,there is no impression conveyed by our senses1 which can give rise to that idea4 ,it must1 therefore1 be derived from some internal impression1 or impression of reflection4 ,there is no internal impression which has any relation to the present business1 but that propensity1 which custom produces1 to pass from an object to the idea of its usual attendant4 ,this1 therefore1 is the essence of necessity4 ,upon the whole1 necessity is something that exists in the mind1 not in objects2 nor is it possible for us ever to form the most distant idea of it1 considered as a quality in bodies4 ,either we have no idea of necessity1 or necessity is nothing but that determination of the thought to pass from causes to effects1 and from effects to causes1 according to their experienced union4 ,thus1 as the necessity1 which makes two times two equal to four1 or three angles of a triangle equal to two right ones1 lies only in the act of the understanding1 by which we consider and compare these ideas2 in like manner1 the necessity of power1 which unites causes and effects1 lies in the determination of the mind to pass from the one to the other4 ,the efficacy or energy of causes is neither placed in the causes themselves1 nor in the ,deity1 nor in the concurrence of these two principles2 but belongs entirely to the soul1 which considers the union of two or more objects in all past instances4 ',tis here that the real power of causes is placed1 along with their connexion and necessity4 ,i am sensible1 that of all the paradoxes which ,i have had1 or shall hereafter have occasion to advance in the course of this ,treatise1 the present one is the most violent1 and that 'tis merely by dint of solid proof and reasoning ,i can ever hope it will have admission1 and overcome the inveterate prejudices of mankind4 ,before we are reconciled to this doctrine1 how often must we repeat to ourselves1 that the simple view of any two objects or actions1 however related1 can never give us any idea of power1 or of a connexion betwixt them3 that this idea arises from the repetition of their union3 that the repetition neither discovers nor causes any thing in the objects1 but has an influence only on the mind1 by that customary transition it produces3 that this customary transition is therefore the same with the power and necessity2 which are consequently qualities of perceptions1 not of objects1 and are internally felt by the soul1 and not perceived externally in bodies8 ,there is commonly an astonishment attending every thing extraordinary2 and this astonishment changes immediately into the highest degree of esteem or contempt1 according as we approve or disapprove of the subject4 ,i am much afraid1 that though the foregoing reasoning appears to me the shortest and most decisive imaginable1 yet1 with the generality of readers1 the bias of the mind will prevail1 and give them a prejudice against the present doctrine4 ,this contrary bias is easily accounted for4 ',tis a common observation1 that the mind has a great propensity to spread itself on external objects1 and to conjoin with them any internal impressions which they occasion1 and which always make their appearance at the same time that these objects discover themselves to the senses4 ,thus1 as certain sounds and smells are always found to attend certain ,visible objects1 we naturally imagine a conjunction1 even in place1 betwixt the objects and qualities1 though the qualities be of such a nature as to admit of no such conjunction1 and really exist no where4 ,but of this more fully hereafter4#ag ,meanwhile1 'tis sufficient to observe1 that the same propensity is the reason why we suppose necessity and power to lie in the objects we consider1 not in our mind1 that considers them2 notwithstanding it is not possible for us to form the most distant idea of that quality1 when it is not taken for the determination of the mind to pass from the idea of an object to that of its usual attendant4 ,but though this be the only reasonable account we can give of necessity1 the contrary notion is so riveted in the mind from the principles above-mentioned1 that ,i doubt not but my sentiments will be treated by many as extravagant and ridiculous4 ,what6 the efficacy of causes lie in the determination of the mind6 ,as if causes did not operate entirely independent of the mind1 and would not continue their operation1 even though there was no mind existent to contemplate them1 or reason concerning them4 ,thought may well depend on causes for its operation1 but not causes on thought4 ,this is to reverse the order of nature1 and make that secondary1 which is really primary4 ,to every operation there is a power proportioned2 and this power must be placed on the body that operates4 ,if we remove the power from one cause1 we must ascribe it to another3 but to remove it from all causes1 and bestow it on a being that is no ways related to the cause or effect1 but by perceiving them1 is a gross absurdity1 and contrary to the most certain principles of human reason4 ,i can only reply to all these arguments1 that the case is here much the same1 as if a blind man should pretend to find a great many absurdities in the supposition1 that the colour of scarlet is not the same with the sound of a trumpet1 nor light the same with solidity4 ,if we have really no idea of a power or efficacy in any object1 or of any real connexion betwixt causes and effects1 'twill be to little purpose to prove1 that an efficacy is necessary in all operations4 ,we do not understand our own meaning in talking so1 but ignorantly confound ideas which are entirely distinct from each other4 ,i am1 indeed1 ready to allow1 that there may be several qualities1 both in material and immaterial objects1 with which we are utterly unacquainted2 and if we please to call these power or efficacy1'twill be of little consequence to the world4 ,but when1 instead of meaning these unknown qualities1 we make the terms of power and efficacy signify something1 of which we have a clear idea1 and which is incompatible with those objects to which we apply it1 obscurity and error begin then to take place1 and we are led astray by a false philosophy4 ,this is the case when we transfer the determination of the thought to external objects1 and suppose any real intelligible connexion betwixt them2 that being a quality which can only belong to the mind that considers them4 ,as to what may be said1 that the operations of nature are independent of our thought and reasoning1 ,i allow it2 and accordingly have observed1 that objects bear to each other the relations of contiguity and succession2 that like objects may be observed1 in several instances1 to have like relations2 and that all this is independent of1 and antecedent to1 the operations of the understanding4 ,but if we go any farther1 and ascribe a power or necessary connexion to these objects1 this is what we can never observe in them1 but must draw the idea of it from what we feel internally in contemplating them4 ,and this ,i carry so far1 that ,i am ready to convert my present reasoning into an instance of it1 by a subtility which it will not be difficult to comprehend4 ,when any object is presented to us1 it immediately conveys to the mind a lively idea of that object which is usually found to attend it2 and this determination of the mind forms the necessary connexion of these objects4 ,but when we change the point of view from the objects to the perceptions1 in that case the impression is to be considered as the cause1 and the lively idea as the effect2 and their necessary connexion is that new determination1 which we feel to pass from the idea of the one to that of the other4 ,the uniting principle among our internal perceptions is as unintelligible as that among external objects1 and is not known to us any other way than by experience4 ,now1 the nature and effects of experience have been already sufficiently examined and explained4 ,it never gives us any insight into the internal structure or operating principle of objects1 but only accustoms the mind to pass from one to another4 ',tis now time to collect all the different parts of this reasoning1 and1 by joining them together1 form an exact definition of the relation of cause and effect1 which makes the subject of the present inquiry4 ,this order would not have been excusable1 of first examining our inference from the relation before we had explained the relation itself1 had it been possible to proceed in a different method4 ,but as the nature of the relation depends so much on that of the inference1 we have been obliged to advance in this seemingly preposterous manner1 and make use of terms before we were able exactly to define them1 or fix their meaning4 ,we shall now correct this fault by giving a precise definition of cause and effect4 ,there may two definitions be given of this relation1 which are only different by their presenting a different view of the same object1 and making us consider it either as a philosophical or as a natural relation2 either as a comparison of two ideas1 or as an association betwixt them4 ,we may define a cause to be ,an object precedent and contiguous to another1 and where all the objects resembling the former are placed in like relations of precedency and contiguity to those objects that resemble the latter4 ,if this definition be esteemed defective1 because drawn from objects foreign to the cause1 we may substitute this other definition in its place1 viz4 ,a cause is an object precedent and contiguous to another1 and so united with it that the idea of the one determines the mind to form the idea of the other1 and the impression of the one to form a more lively idea of the other4 ,should this definition also be rejected for the same reason1 ,i know no other remedy1 than that the persons who express this delicacy should substitute a juster definition in its place4 ,but1 for my part1 ,i must own my incapacity for such an undertaking4 ,when ,i examine1 with the utmost accuracy1 those objects which are commonly denominated causes and effects1 ,i find1 in considering a single instance1 that the one object is precedent and contiguous to the other2 and in enlarging my view to consider several instances1 ,i find only that like objects are constantly placed in like relations of succession and contiguity4 ,again1 when ,i consider the influence of this constant conjunction1 ,i perceive that such a relation can never be an object of reasoning1 and can never operate upon the mind but by means of custom1 which determines the imagination to make a transition from the idea of one object to that of its usual attendant1 and from the impression of one to a more lively idea of the other4 ,however extraordinary these sentiments may appear1 ,i think it fruitless to trouble myself with any farther inquiry or reasoning upon the subject1 but shall repose myself on them as on established maxims4 ',twill only be proper1 before we leave this subject1 to draw some corollaries from it1 by which we may remove several prejudices and popular errors that have very much prevailed in philosophy4 ,first1 we may learn1 from the foregoing doctrine1 that all causes are of the same kind1 and that1 in particular1 there is no foundation for that distinction which we sometimes make betwixt efficient causes1 and causes sine qua non2 or betwixt efficient causes1 and formal1 and material1 and exemplary1 and final causes4 ,for as our idea of efficiency is derived from the constant conjunction of two objects1 wherever this is observed1 the cause is efficient2 and where it is not1 there can never be a cause of any kind4 ,for the same reason we must reject the distinction betwixt cause and occasion1 when supposed to signify any thing essentially different from each other4 ,if constant conjunction be implied in what we call occasion1 'tis a real cause2 if not1 'tis no relation at all1 and cannot give rise to any argument or reasoning4 ,secondly1 the same course of reasoning will make us conclude1 that there is but one kind of necessity1 as there is but one kind of cause1 and that the common distinction betwixt moral and physical necessity is without any foundation in nature4 ,this clearly appears from the precedent explication of necessity4 ',tis the constant conjunction of objects1 along with the determination of the mind1 which constitutes a physical necessity3 and the removal of these is the same thing with chance4 ,as objects must either be conjoined or not1 and as the mind must either be determined or not to pass from one object to another1 'tis impossible to admit of any medium betwixt chance and an absolute necessity4 ,in weakening this conjunction and determination you do not change the nature of the necessity2 since even in the operation of bodies1 these have different degrees of constancy and force1 without producing a different species of that relation4 ,the distinction1 which we often make betwixt power and the exercise of it1 is equally without foundation4 ,thirdly1 we may now be able fully to overcome all that repugnance1 which 'tis so natural for us to entertain against the foregoing reasoning1 by which we endeavoured to prove1 that the necessity of a cause to every beginning of existence is not founded on any arguments either demonstrative or intuitive4 ,such an opinion will not appear strange after the foregoing definitions4 ,if we define a cause to be an object precedent and contiguous to another1 and where all the objects resembling the former are placed in a like relation of priority and contiguity to those objects that resemble the latter2 we may easily conceive that there is no absolute nor metaphysical necessity1 that every beginning of existence should be attended with such an object4 ,if we define a cause to be1 an object precedent and contiguous to another1 and so united with it in the imagination1 that the idea of the one determines the mind to form the idea of the other1 and the impression of the one to form a more lively idea of the other2 we shall make still less difficulty of assenting to this opinion4 ,such an influence on the mind is in itself perfectly extraordinary and incomprehensible2 nor can we be certain of its reality1 but from experience and observation4 ,i shall add as a fourth corollary1 that we can never have reason to believe that any object exists1 of which we cannot form an idea4 ,for1 as all our reasonings concerning existence are derived from causation1 and as all our reasonings concerning causation are derived from the experienced conjunction of objects1 not from any reasoning or reflection1 the same experience must give us a notion of these objects1 and must remove all mystery from our conclusions4 ,this is so evident that 'twould scarce have merited our attention1 were it not to obviate certain objections of this kind which might arise against the following reasonings concerning matter and substance4 ,i need not observe1 that a full knowledge of the object is not requisite1 but only of those qualities of it which we believe to exist4 #ab ,sect4 #b4 #ac ,see ,mr ,locke2 chapter of ,power4 #ad ,see ,father ,malebranche1 ,book ,,vi4 ,part ,,ii4 ,chap4 #c1 and the illustrations upon it4 #ae ,the same imperfection attends our ideas of the ,deity2 but this can have no effect either on religion or morals4 ,the order of the universe proves an omnipotent mind2 that is1 a mind whose will is constantly attended with the obedience of every creature and being4 ,nothing more is requisite to give a foundation to all the articles of religion2 nor is it necessary we should form a distinct idea of the force and energy of the ,supreme ,being4 #af ,section #f4 #ag ,part ,,iv4 sect #e4 ,,section ,,xv4 ,,rules ,,by ,,which ,,to ,,judge ,,of ,,causes ,,and ,,effects4 ,according to the precedent doctrine1 there are no objects which1 by the mere survey1 without consulting experience1 we can determine to be the causes of any other2 and no objects which we can certainly determine in the same manner not to be the causes4 ,any thing may produce any thing4 ,creation1 annihilation1 motion1 reason1 volition2 all these may arise from one another1 or from any other object we can imagine4 ,nor will this appear strange if we compare two principles explained above1 that the constant conjunction of objects determines their causation1#ah and that1 properly speaking1 no objects are contrary to each other but existence and non-existence4 ,where objects are not contrary1 nothing hinders them from having that constant conjunction on which the relation of cause and effect totally depends4 ,since1 therefore1 'tis possible for all objects to become causes or effects to each other1 it may be proper to fix some general rules by which we may know when they really are so4 #a4 ,the cause and effect must be contiguous in space and time4 #b4 ,the cause must be prior to the effect4 #c4 ,there must be a constant union betwixt the cause and effect4 ',tis chiefly this quality that constitutes the relation4 #d4 ,the same cause always produces the same effect1 and the same effect never arises but from the same cause4 ,this principle we derive from experience1 and is the source of most of our philosophical reasonings4 ,for when by any clear experiment we have discovered the causes or effects of any phenomenon1 we immediately extend our observation to every phenomenon of the same kind1 without waiting for that constant repetition1 from which the first idea of this relation is derived4 #e4 ,there is another principle which hangs upon this1 viz4 that 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 #f4 ,the following principle is founded on the same reason4 ,the difference in the effects of two resembling objects must proceed from that particular in which they differ4 ,for 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 #g4 ,when any object increases or diminishes with the increase or diminution of its 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 ,a certain degree of heat gives pleasure2 if you diminish that heat1 the pleasure diminishes2 but it does not follow1 that if you augment it beyond a certain degree1 the pleasure will likewise augment2 for we find that it degenerates into pain4 #h4 ,the eighth and last rule ,i shall take notice of is1 that an object1 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 ,here is all the logic ,i think proper to employ in my reasoning2 and perhaps even this was not very necessary1 but might have been supplied by the natural principles of our understanding4 ,our scholastic headpieces and logicians show no such superiority above the mere vulgar in their reason and ability1 as to give us any inclination to imitate them in delivering a long system of rules and precepts to direct our judgment in philosophy4 ,all the rules of this nature are very easy in their invention1 but extremely difficult in their application2 and even experimental philosophy1 which seems the most natural and simple of any1 requires the utmost stretch of human judgment4 ,there is no phenomenon in nature but what is compounded and modified by so many different circumstances1 that1 in order to arrive at the decisive point1 we must carefully separate whatever is superfluous1 and inquire1 by new experiments1 if every particular circumstance of the first experiment was essential to it4 ,these new experiments are liable to a discussion of the same kind2 so that the utmost constancy is required to make us persevere in our inquiry1 and the utmost sagacity to chuse the right way among so many that present themselves4 ,if this be the case even in natural philosophy1 how much more in moral1 where there is a much greater complication of circumstances1 and where those views and sentiments1 which are essential to any action of the mind1 are so implicit and obscure1 that they often escape our strictest attention1 and are not only unaccountable in their causes1 but even unknown in their existence8 ,i am much afraid1 lest the small success ,i meet with in my inquiries1 will make this observation bear the air of an apology rather than of boasting4 ,if any thing can give me security in this particular1 'twill be the enlarging the sphere of my experiments as much as possible2 for which reason1 it may be proper1 in this place1 to examine the reasoning faculty of brutes1 as well as that of human creatures4 #ah ,part ,i4 ,sect #e4 ,,section ,,xvi4 ,,of ,,the ,,reason ,,of ,,animals4 ,next to the ridicule of denying an evident truth1 is that of taking much pains to defend it2 and 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 ,we are conscious1 that we ourselves1 in adapting means to ends1 are guided by reason and design1 and that 'tis not ignorantly nor casually we perform those actions which tend to self-preservation1 to the obtaining pleasure1 and avoiding pain4 ,when1 therefore1 we see other creatures1 in millions of instances1 perform like actions1 and direct them to like ends1 all our principles of reason and probability carry us with an invincible force to believe the existence of a like cause4 ',tis needless1 in my opinion1 to illustrate this argument by the enumeration of particulars4 ,the smallest attention will supply us with more than are requisite4 ,the resemblance betwixt the actions of animals and those of men is so entire1 in this respect1 that the very first action of the first animal we shall please to pitch on1 will afford us an incontestable argument for the present doctrine4 ,this doctrine is as useful as it is obvious1 and furnishes us with a kind of touchstone1 by which we may try every system in this species of philosophy4 ',tis from the resemblance of the external actions of animals to those we ourselves perform1 that we judge their internal likewise to resemble ours2 and the same principle of reasoning1 carried one step farther1 will make us conclude1 that1 since our internal actions resemble each other1 the causes1 from which they are derived1 must also be resembling4 ,when any hypothesis1 therefore1 is advanced to explain a mental operation1 which is common to men and beasts1 we must apply the same hypothesis to both2 and as every true hypothesis will abide this trial1 so ,i may venture to affirm1 that no false one will ever be able to endure it4 ,the common defect of those systems1 which philosophers have employed to account for the actions of the mind1 is1 that they suppose such a subtility and refinement of thought1 as not only exceeds the capacity of mere animals1 but even of children and the common people in our own species2 who are1 notwithstanding1 susceptible of the same emotions and affections as persons of the most accomplished genius and understanding4 ,such a subtility is a clear proof of the falsehood1 as the contrary simplicity of the truth1 of any system4 ,let us1 therefore1 put our present system1 concerning the nature of the understanding1 to this decisive trial1 and see whether it will equally account for the reasonings of beasts as for those of the human species4 ,here we must make a distinction betwixt those actions of animals1 which are of a vulgar nature1 and seem to be on a level with their common capacities1 and those more extraordinary instances of sagacity1 which they sometimes discover for their own preservation1 and the propagation of their species4 ,a dog that avoids fire and precipices1 that shuns strangers1 and caresses his master1 affords us an instance of the first kind4 ,a bird1 that chuses with such care and nicety the place and materials of her nest1 and sits upon her eggs for a due time1 and in a suitable season1 with all the precaution that a chemist is capable of in the most delicate projection1 furnishes us with a lively instance of the second4 ,as to the former actions1 ,i assert they proceed from a reasoning1 that is not in itself different1 nor founded on different principles1 from that which appears in human nature4 ',tis necessary1 in the first place1 that there be some impression immediately present to their memory or senses1 in order to be the foundation of their judgment4 ,from the tone of voice the dog infers his master's anger1 and foresees his own punishment4 ,from a certain sensation affecting his smell1 he judges his game not to be far distant from him4 ,secondly1 the inference he draws from the present impression is built on experience1 and on his observation of the conjunction of objects in past instances4 ,as you vary this experience1 he varies his reasoning4 ,make a beating follow upon one sign or motion for some time1 and afterwards upon another2 and he will successively draw different conclusions1 according to his most recent experience4 ,now1 let any philosopher make a trial1 and endeavour to explain that act of the mind which we call belief1 and give an account of the principles from which it is derived1 independent of the influence of custom on the imagination1 and let his hypothesis be equally applicable to beasts as to the human species2 and1 after he has done this1 ,i promise to embrace his opinion4 ,but1 at the same time ,i demand as an equitable condition1 that if my system be the only one1 which can answer to all these terms1 it may be received as entirely satisfactory and convincing4 ,and that 'tis the only one1 is evident almost without any reasoning4 ,beasts certainly never perceive any real connexion among objects4 ',tis therefore by experience they infer one from another4 ,they can never by any arguments form a general conclusion1 that those objects of which they have had no experience1 resemble those of which they have4 ',tis therefore by means of custom alone that experience operates upon them4 ,all this was sufficiently evident with respect to man4 ,but with respect to beasts there cannot be the least suspicion of mistake2 which must be owned to be a strong confirmation1 or rather an invincible proof of my system4 ,nothing shows more the force of habit in reconciling us to any phenomenon1 than this1 that men are not astonished at the operations of their own reason1 at the same time that they admire the instinct of animals1 and find a difficulty in explaining it1 merely because it cannot be reduced to the very same principles4 ,to consider the matter aright1 reason is nothing but a wonderful and unintelligible instinct in our souls1 which carries us along a certain train of ideas1 and endows them with particular qualities1 according to their particular situations and relations4 ,this instinct1 'tis true1 arises from past observation and experience2 but can any one give the ultimate reason1 why past experience and observation produces such an effect1 any more than why nature alone should produce it8 ,nature may certainly produce whatever can arise from habit3 nay1 habit is nothing but one of the principles of nature1 and derives all its force from that origin4 ,,part ,,iv4 ,,of ,,the ,,sceptical ,,and ,,other ,,systems ,,of ,,philosophy4 ,,section ,i4 ,,of ,,scepticism ,,with ,,regard ,,to ,,reason4 ,in all demonstrative sciences the rules are certain and infallible2 but when we apply them1 our fallible and uncertain faculties are very apt to depart from them1 and fall into error4 ,we must therefore in every reasoning form a new judgment1 as a check or control on our first judgment or belief2 and must enlarge our view to comprehend a kind of history of all the instances1 wherein our understanding has deceived us1 compared with those wherein its testimony was just and true4 ,our reason must be considered as a kind of cause1 of which truth is the natural effect2 but such a one as1 by the irruption of other causes1 and by the inconstancy of our mental powers1 may frequently be prevented4 ,by this means all knowledge degenerates into probability2 and this probability is greater or less1 according to our experience of the veracity or deceitfulness of our understanding1 and according to the simplicity or intricacy of the question4 ,there is no algebraist nor mathematician so expert in his science1 as to place entire confidence in any truth immediately upon his discovery of it1 or regard it as any thing but a mere probability4 ,every time he runs over his proofs1 his confidence increases2 but still more by the approbation of his friends2 and is raised to its utmost perfection by the universal assent and applauses of the learned world4 ,now1 'tis evident that this gradual increase of assurance is nothing but the addition of new probabilities1 and is derived from the constant union of causes and effects1 according to past experience and observation4 ,in accounts of any length or importance1 merchants seldom trust to the infallible certainty of numbers for their security2 but by the artificial structure of the accounts1 produce a probability beyond what is derived from the skill and experience of the accountant4 ,for that is plainly of itself some degree of probability2 though uncertain and variable1 according to the degrees of his experience and length of the account4 ,now as none will maintain1 that our assurance in a long numeration exceeds probability1 ,i may safely affirm1 that there scarce is any proposition concerning numbers1 of which we can have a fuller security4 ,for 'tis easily possible1 by gradually diminishing the numbers1 to reduce the longest series of addition to the most simple question which can be formed1 to an addition of two single numbers2 and upon this supposition we shall find it impracticable to show the precise limits of knowledge and of probability1 or discover that particular number at which the one ends and the other begins4 ,but knowledge and probability are of such contrary and disagreeing natures1 that they cannot well run insensibly into each other1 and that because they will not divide1 but must be either entirely present1 or entirely absent4 ,besides1 if any single addition were certain1 every one would be so1 and consequently the whole or total sum2 unless the whole can be different from all its parts4 ,i had almost said1 that this was certain2 but ,i reflect that it must reduce itself1 as well as every other reasoning1 and from knowledge degenerate into probability4 ,since1 therefore1 all knowledge resolves itself into probability1 and becomes at last of the same nature with that evidence which we employ in common life1 we must now examine this latter species of reasoning1 and see on what foundation it stands4 ,in every judgment which we can form concerning probability1 as well as concerning knowledge1 we ought always to correct the first judgment1 derived from the nature of the object1 by another judgment1 derived from the nature of the understanding4 ',tis certain a man of solid sense and long experience ought to have1 and usually has1 a greater assurance in his opinions1 than one that is foolish and ignorant1 and that our sentiments have different degrees of authority1 even with ourselves1 in proportion to the degrees of our reason and experience4 ,in the man of the best sense and longest experience1 this authority is never entire2 since even such a one must be conscious of many errors in the past1 and must still dread the like for the future4 ,here then arises a new species of probability to correct and regulate the first1 and fix its just standard and proportion4 ,as demonstration is subject to the control of probability1 so is probability liable to a new correction by a reflex act of the mind1 wherein the nature of our understanding1 and our reasoning from the first probability1 become our objects4 ,having thus found in every probability1 beside the original uncertainty inherent in the subject1 a new uncertainty1 derived from the weakness of that faculty which judges1 and having adjusted these two together1 we are obliged by our reason to add a new doubt1 derived from the possibility of error in the estimation we make of the truth and fidelity of our faculties4 ,this is a doubt which immediately occurs to us1 and of which1 if we would closely pursue our reason1 we cannot avoid giving a decision4 ,but this decision1 though it should be favourable to our preceding judgment1 being founded only on probability1 must weaken still further our first evidence1 and must itself be weakened by a fourth doubt of the same kind1 and so on in infinitum2 till at last there remain nothing of the original probability1 however great we may suppose it to have been1 and however small the diminution by every new uncertainty4 ,no finite object can subsist under a decrease repeated in infinitum2 and even the vastest quantity1 which can enter into human imagination1 must in this manner be reduced to nothing4 ,let our first belief be never so strong1 it must infallibly perish1 by passing through so many new examinations1 of which each diminishes somewhat of its force and vigour4 ,when ,i reflect on the natural fallibility of my judgment1 ,i have less confidence in my opinions1 than when ,i only consider the objects concerning which ,i reason2 and when ,i proceed still farther1 to turn the scrutiny against every successive estimation ,i make of my faculties1 all the rules of logic require a continual diminution1 and at last a total extinction of belief and evidence4 ,should it here be asked me1 whether ,i sincerely assent to this argument1 which ,i seem to take such pains to inculcate1 and whether ,i be really one of those sceptics1 who hold that all is uncertain1 and that our judgment is not in any thing possessed of any measures of truth and falsehood2 ,i should reply1 that this question is entirely superfluous1 and that neither ,i1 nor any other person1 was ever sincerely and constantly of that opinion4 ,nature1 by an absolute and uncontrollable necessity1 has determined us to judge as well as to breathe and feel2 nor can we any more forbear viewing certain objects in a stronger and fuller light1 upon account of their customary connexion with a present impression1 than we can hinder ourselves from thinking1 as long as we are awake1 or seeing the surrounding bodies1 when we turn our eyes towards them in broad sunshine4 ,whoever has taken the pains to refute the cavils of this total scepticism1 has really disputed without an antagonist1 and endeavoured by arguments to establish a faculty1 which nature has antecedently implanted in the mind1 and rendered unavoidable4 ,my intention then in displaying so carefully the arguments of that fantastic sect1 is only to make the reader sensible of the truth of my hypothesis1 that all our reasonings concerning causes and effects1 are derived from nothing but custom2 and that belief is more properly an act of the sensitive1 than of the cogitative part of our natures4 ,i have here proved1 that the very same principles1 which make us form a decision upon any subject1 and correct that decision by the consideration of our genius and capacity1 and of the situation of our mind1 when we examined that subject2 ,i say1 ,i have proved1 that these same principles1 when carried farther1 and applied to every new reflex judgment1 must1 by continually diminishing the original evidence1 at last reduce it to nothing1 and utterly subvert all belief and opinion4 ,if belief1 therefore1 were a simple act of the thought1 without any peculiar manner of conception1 or the addition or a force and vivacity1 it must infallibly destroy itself1 and in every case terminate in a total suspense of judgment4 ,but as experience will sufficiently convince any one1 who thinks it worth while to try1 that though he can find no error in the foregoing arguments1 yet he still continues to believe1 and think1 and reason1 as usual1 he may safely conclude1 that his reasoning and belief is some sensation or peculiar manner of conception1 which 'tis impossible for mere ideas and reflections to destroy4 ,but here1 perhaps1 it may be demanded1 how it happens1 even upon my hypothesis1 that these arguments above explained produce not a total suspense of judgment1 and after what manner the mind ever retains a degree of assurance in any subject8 ,for as these new probabilities1 which1 by their repetition1 perpetually diminish the original evidence1 are founded on the very same principles1 whether of thought or sensation1 as the primary judgment1 it may seem unavoidable1 that in either case they must equally subvert it1 and by the opposition1 either of contrary thoughts or sensations1 reduce the mind to a total uncertainty4 ,i suppose there is some question proposed to me1 and that1 after revolving over the impressions of my memory and senses1 and carrying my thoughts from them to such objects as are commonly conjoined with them1 ,i feel a stronger and more forcible conception on the one side than on the other4 ,this strong conception forms my first decision4 ,i suppose1 that afterwards ,i examine my judgment itself1 and observing1 from experience1 that 'tis sometimes just and sometimes erroneous1 ,i consider it as regulated by contrary principles or causes1 of which some lead to truth1 and some to error2 and in balancing these contrary causes1 ,i diminish1 by a new probability1 the assurance of my first decision4 ,this new probability is liable to the same diminution as the foregoing1 and so on1 in infinitum4 ',tis therefore demanded1 how it happens1 that1 even after all1 we retain a degree of belief1 which is sufficient for our purpose1 either in philosophy or common life8 ,i answer1 that after the first and second decision1 as the action of the mind becomes forced and unnatural1 and the ideas faint and obscure1 though the principles of judgment1 and the balancing of opposite causes be the same as at the very beginning1 yet their influence on the imagination1 and the vigour they add to1 or diminish from1 the thought1 is by no means equal4 ,where the mind reaches not its objects with easiness and facility1 the same principles have not the same effect as in a more natural conception of the ideas2 nor does the imagination feel a sensation1 which holds any proportion with that which arises from its common judgments and opinions4 ,the attention is on the stretch2 the posture of the mind is uneasy2 and the spirits being diverted from their natural course1 are not governed in their movements by the same laws1 at least not to the same degree1 as when they flow in their usual channel4 ,if we desire similar instances1 'twill not be very difficult to find them4 ,the present subject of metaphysics will supply us abundantly4 ,the same argument1 which would have been esteemed convincing in a reasoning concerning history or politics1 has little or no influence in these abstruser subjects1 even though it be perfectly comprehended2 and that because there is required a study and an effort of thought1 in order to its being comprehended3 and this effort of thought disturbs the operation of our sentiments1 on which the belief depends4 ,the case is the same in other subjects4 ,the straining of the imagination always hinders the regular flowing of the passions and sentiments4 ,a tragic poet1 that would represent his heroes as very ingenious and witty in their misfortunes1 would never touch the passions4 ,as the emotions of the soul prevent any subtile reasoning and reflection1 so these latter actions of the mind are equally prejudicial to the former4 ,the mind1 as well as the body1 seems to be endowed with a certain precise degree of force and activity1 which it never employs in one action1 but at the expense of all the rest4 ,this is more evidently true1 where the actions are of quite different natures2 since in that case the force of the mind is not only diverted1 but even the disposition changed1 so as to render us incapable of a sudden transition from one action to the other1 and still more of performing both at once4 ,no wonder1 then1 the conviction1 which arises from a subtile reasoning1 diminishes in proportion to the efforts which the imagination makes to enter into the reasoning1 and to conceive it in all its parts4 ,belief1 being a lively conception1 can never be entire1 where it is not founded on something natural and easy4 ,this ,i take to be the true state of the question1 and cannot approve of that expeditious way1 which some take with the sceptics1 to reject at once all their arguments without inquiry or examination4 ,if the sceptical reasonings be strong1 say they1 'tis a proof that reason may have some force and authority3 if weak1 they can never be sufficient to invalidate all the conclusions of our understanding4 ,this argument is not just2 because the sceptical reasonings1 were it possible for them to exist1 and were they not destroyed by their subtilty1 would be successively both strong and weak1 according to the successive dispositions of the mind4 ,reason first appears in possession of the throne1 prescribing laws1 and imposing maxims1 with an absolute sway and authority4 ,her enemy1 therefore1 is obliged to take shelter under her protection1 and by making use of rational arguments to prove the fallaciousness and imbecility of reason1 produces1 in a manner1 a patent under her hand and seal4 ,this patent has at first an authority1 proportioned to the present and immediate authority of reason1 from which it is derived4 ,but as it is supposed to be contradictory to reason1 it gradually diminishes the force of that governing power and its own at the same time2 till at last they both vanish away into nothing1 by a regular and just diminution4 ,the sceptical and dogmatical reasons are of the same kind1 though contrary in their operation and tendency2 so that where the latter is strong1 it has an enemy of equal force in the former to encounter2 and as their forces were at first equal1 they still continue so1 as long as either of them subsists2 nor does one of them lose any force in the contest1 without taking as much from its antagonist4 ',tis happy1 therefore1 that nature breaks the force of all sceptical arguments in time1 and keeps them from having any considerable influence on the understanding4 ,were we to trust entirely to their self-destruction1 that can never take place1 'till they have first subverted all conviction1 and have totally destroyed human reason4 ,,section ,,ii4 ,,of ,,scepticism ,,with ,,regard ,,to ,,the ,,senses4 ,thus the sceptic still continues to reason and believe1 even though he asserts that he cannot defend his reason by reason2 and by the same rule he must assent to the principle concerning the existence of body1 though he cannot pretend1 by any arguments of philosophy1 to maintain its veracity4 ,nature has not left this to his choice1 and has doubtless esteemed it an affair of too great importance1 to be trusted to our uncertain reasonings and speculations4 ,we may well ask1 ,what causes induce us to believe in the existence of body8 but 'tis in vain to ask1 ,whether there be body or not8 ,that is a point1 which we must take for granted in all our reasonings4 ,the subject1 then1 of our present inquiry1 is concerning the causes which induce us to believe in the existence of body3 and my reasonings on this head ,i shall begin with a distinction1 which at first sight may seem superfluous1 but which will contribute very much to the perfect understanding of what follows4 ,we ought to examine apart those two questions1 which are commonly confounded together1 viz4 ,why we attribute a continued existence to objects1 even when they are not present to the senses2 and why we suppose them to have an existence distinct from the mind and perception8 ,under this last head ,i comprehend their situation as well as relations1 their external position as well as the independence of their existence and operation4 ,these two questions concerning the continued and distinct existence of body are intimately connected together4 ,for if the objects of our senses continue to exist1 even when they are not perceived1 their existence is of course independent of and distinct from the perception2 and vice versa1 if their existence be independent of the perception1 and distinct from it1 they must continue to exist1 even though they be not perceived4 ,but though the decision of the one question decides the other2 yet that we may the more easily discover the principles of human nature1 from whence the decision arises1 we shall carry along with us this distinction1 and shall consider1 whether it be the senses1 reason1 or the imagination1 that produces the opinion of a continued or of a distinct existence4 ,these are the only questions that are intelligible on the present subject4 ,for as to the notion of external existence1 when taken for something specifically different from our perceptions1 we have already shown its absurdity4#a ,to begin with the senses1'tis evident these faculties are incapable of giving rise to the notion of the continued existence of their objects1 after they no longer appear to the senses4 ,for that is a contradiction in terms1 and supposes that the senses continue to operate1 even after they have ceased all manner of operation4 ,these faculties1 therefore1 if they have any influence in the present case1 must produce the opinion of a distinct1 not of a continued existence2 and in order to that1 must present their impressions either as images and representations1 or as these very distinct and external existences4 ,that our senses offer not their impressions as the images of something distinct1 or independent1 and external1 is evident2 because they convey to us nothing but a single perception1 and never give us the least intimation of any thing beyond4 ,a single perception can never produce the idea of a double existence1 but by some inference either of the reason or imagination4 ,when the mind looks farther than what immediately appears to it1 its conclusions can never be put to the account of the senses2 and it certainly looks farther1 when from a single perception it infers a double existence1 and supposes the relations of resemblance and causation betwixt them4 ,if our senses1 therefore1 suggest any idea of distinct existences1 they must convey the impressions as those very existences1 by a kind of fallacy and illusion4 ,upon this head we may observe1 that all sensations are felt by the mind1 such as they really are1 and that1 when we doubt whether they present themselves as distinct objects1 or as mere impressions1 the difficulty is not concerning their nature1 but concerning their relations and situation4 ,now1 if the senses presented our impressions as external to1 and independent of ourselves1 both the objects and ourselves must be obvious to our senses1 otherwise they could not be compared by these faculties4 ,the difficulty then1 is1 how far we are ourselves the objects of our senses4 ',tis certain there is no question in philosophy more abstruse than that concerning identity1 and the nature of the uniting principle1 which constitutes a person4 ,so far from being able by our senses merely to determine this question1 we must have recourse to the most profound metaphysics to give a satisfactory answer to it2 and in common life 'tis evident these ideas of self and person are never very fixed nor determinate4 ',tis absurd therefore to imagine the senses can ever distinguish betwixt ourselves and external objects4 ,add to this1 that every impression1 external and internal1 passions1 affections1 sensations1 pains and pleasures1 are originally on the same footing2 and that whatever other differences we may observe among them1 they appear1 all of them1 in their true colours1 as impressions or perceptions4 ,and indeed1 if we consider the matter aright1 'tis scarce possible it should be otherwise2 nor is it conceivable that our senses should be more capable of deceiving us in the situation and relations1 than in the nature of our impressions4 ,for since all actions and sensations of the mind are known to us by consciousness1 they must necessarily appear in every particular what they are1 and be what they appear4 ,every thing that enters the mind1 being in reality as the perception1 'tis impossible any thing should to feeling appear different4 ,this were to suppose1 that even where we are most intimately conscious1 we might be mistaken4 ,but not to lose time in examining1 whether 'tis possible for our senses to deceive us1 and represent our perceptions as distinct from ourselves1 that is1 as external to and independent of us2 let us consider whether they really do so1 and whether this error proceeds from an immediate sensation1 or from some other causes4 ,to begin with the question concerning external existence1 it may perhaps be said1 that setting aside the metaphysical question of the identity of a thinking substance1 our own body evidently belongs to us2 and as several impressions appear exterior to the body1 we suppose them also exterior to ourselves4 ,the paper1 on which ,i write at present1 is beyond my hand4 ,the table is beyond the paper4 ,the walls of the chamber beyond the table4 ,and in casting my eye towards the window1 ,i perceive a great extent of fields and buildings beyond my chamber4 ,from all this it may be inferred1 that no other faculty is required1 beside the senses1 to convince us of the external existence of body4 ,but to prevent this inference1 we need only weigh the three following considerations4 ,first1 that1 properly speaking1 'tis not our body we perceive1 when we regard our limbs and members1 but certain impressions1 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 which we examine at present4 ,secondly1 sounds1 and tastes1 and smells1 though commonly regarded by the mind as continued independent qualities1 appear not to have any existence in extension1 and consequently cannot appear to the senses as situated externally to the body4 ,the reason why we ascribe a place to them1 shall be considered afterwards4#b ,thirdly1 even our sight informs us not of distance or outness 7so to speak7 immediately and without a certain reasoning and experience1 as is acknowledged by the most rational philosophers4 ,as to the independency of our perceptions on ourselves1 this can never be an object of the senses2 but any opinion we form concerning it1 must be derived from experience and observation3 and we shall see afterwards1 that our conclusions from experience are far from being favourable to the doctrine of the independency of our perceptions4 ,meanwhile we may observe1 that when we talk of real distinct existences1 we have commonly more in our eye their independency than external situation in place1 and think an object has a sufficient reality1 when its being is uninterrupted1 and independent of the incessant revolutions1 which we are conscious of in ourselves4 ,thus to resume what ,i have said concerning the senses2 they give us no notion of continued existence1 because they cannot operate beyond the extent1 in which they really operate4 ,they as little produce the opinion of a distinct existence1 because they neither can offer it to the mind as represented1 nor as original4 ,to offer it as represented1 they must present both an object and an image4 ,to make it appear as original1 they must convey a falsehood2 and this falsehood must lie in the relations and situation3 in order to which1 they must be able to compare the object with ourselves2 and even in that case they do not1 nor is it possible they should deceive us4 ,we may therefore conclude with certainty1 that the opinion of a continued and of a distinct existence never arises from the senses4 ,to confirm this1 we may observe1 that 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 second1 those of colours1 tastes1 smells1 sounds1 heat 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 vulgar1 again1 esteem the third to be merely perceptions2 and1 consequently1 interrupted and dependent beings4 ,now1 'tis evident1 that1 whatever may be our philosophical opinion1 colour1 sounds1 heat and cold1 as far as appears to the senses1 exist after the same manner with motion and solidity2 and that the difference we make betwixt 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 feeling and experience1 and that their very senses contradict this philosophy4 ',tis also evident1 that colours1 sounds1 c4 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 conclude1 that1 as far as the senses are judges1 all perceptions are the same in the manner of their existence4 ,we may also observe1 in this instance of sounds and colours1 that we can attribute a distinct continued existence to objects without ever consulting reason1 or weighing our opinions by any philosophical principles4 ,and1 indeed1 whatever convincing arguments philosophers may fancy they can produce to establish the belief of objects independent of the mind1 'tis obvious these arguments are known but to very few2 and that 'tis not by them that children1 peasants1 and the greatest part of mankind1 are induced to attribute objects to some impressions1 and deny them to others4 ,accordingly1 we find1 that all the conclusions which the vulgar form on this head1 are directly contrary to those which are confirmed by philosophy4 ,for philosophy informs us1 that every thing which appears to the mind1 is nothing but a perception1 and is interrupted and dependent on the mind2 whereas the vulgar confound perceptions and objects1 and attribute a distinct continued existence to the very things they feel or see4 ,this sentiment1 then1 as it is entirely unreasonable1 must proceed from some other faculty than the understanding4 ,to which we may add1 that1 as long as we take our perceptions and objects to be the same1 we can never infer the existence of the one from that of the other1 nor form any argument from the relation of cause and effect2 which is the only one that can assure us of matter of fact4 ,even after we distinguish our perceptions from our objects1 'twill appear presently that we are still incapable of reasoning from the existence of one to that of the other3 so that1 upon the whole1 our reason neither does1 nor is it possible it ever should1 upon any supposition1 give us an assurance of the continued and distinct existence of body4 ,that opinion must be entirely owing to the imagination3 which must now be the subject of our inquiry4 ,since all impressions are internal and perishing existences1 and appear as such1 the notion of their distinct and continued existence must arise from a concurrence of some of their qualities with the qualities of the imagination2 and since this notion does not extend to all of them1 it must arise from certain qualities peculiar to some impressions4 ',twill1 therefore1 be easy for us to discover these qualities by a comparison of the impressions1 to which we attribute a distinct and continued existence1 with those which we regard as internal and perishing4 ,we may observe1 then1 that 'tis neither upon account of the involuntariness of certain impressions1 as is commonly supposed1 nor of their superior force and violence1 that we attribute to them a reality and continued existence1 which we refuse to others that are voluntary or feeble4 ,for 'tis evident1 our pains and pleasures1 our passions and affections1 which we never suppose to have any existence beyond our perception1 operate with greater violence1 and are equally involuntary1 as the impressions of figure and extension1 colour and sound1 which we suppose to be permanent beings4 ,the heat of a fire1 when moderate1 is supposed to exist in the fire2 but the pain which it causes upon a near approach is not taken to have any being except in the perception4 ,these vulgar opinions1 then1 being rejected1 we must search for some other hypothesis1 by which we may discover those peculiar qualities in our impressions1 which makes us attribute to them a distinct and continued existence4 ,after a little examination1 we shall find1 that all those objects1 to which we attribute a continued existence1 have a peculiar constancy1 which distinguishes them from the impressions whose existence depends upon our perception4 ,those mountains1 and houses1 and trees1 which lie at present under my eye1 have always appeared to me in the same order2 and when ,i lose sight of them by shutting my eyes or turning my head1 ,i soon after find them return upon me without the least alteration4 ,my bed and table1 my books and papers1 present themselves in the same uniform manner1 and change not upon account of any interruption in my seeing or perceiving them4 ,this is the case with all the impressions1 whose objects are supposed to have an external existence2 and is the case with no other impressions1 whether gentle or violent1 voluntary or involuntary4 ,this constancy1 however1 is not so perfect as not to admit of very considerable exceptions4 ,bodies often change their position and qualities1 and1 after a little absence or interruption1 may become hardly knowable4 ,but here 'tis observable1 that even in these changes they preserve a coherence1 and have a regular dependence on each other2 which is the foundation of a kind of reasoning from causation1 and produces the opinion of their continued existence4 ,when ,i return to my chamber after an hour's absence1 ,i find not my fire in the same situation in which ,i left it2 but then ,i am accustomed1 in other instances1 to see a like alteration produced in a like time1 whether ,i am present or absent1 near or remote4 ,this coherence1 therefore1 in their changes1 is one of the characteristics of external objects1 as well as their constancy4 ,having found that the opinion of the continued existence of body depends on the coherence and constancy of certain impressions1 ,i now proceed to examine after what manner these qualities give rise to so extraordinary an opinion4 ,to begin with the coherence2 we may observe1 that though those internal impressions1 which we regard as fleeting and perishing1 have also a certain coherence or regularity in their appearances1 yet 'tis of somewhat a different nature from that which we discover in bodies4 ,our passions are found by experience to have a mutual connexion with1 and dependence on each other2 but on no occasion is it necessary to suppose that they have existed and operated1 when they were not perceived1 in order to preserve the same dependence and connexion1 of which we have had experience4 ,the case is not the same with relation to external objects4 ,those require a continued existence1 or otherwise lose1 in a great measure1 the regularity of their operation4 ,i am here seated in my chamber1 with my face to the fire2 and all the objects that strike my senses are contained in a few yards around me4 ,my memory1 indeed1 informs me of the existence of many objects2 but1 then1 this information extends not beyond their past existence1 nor do either my senses or memory give any testimony to the continuance of their being4 ,when1 therefore1 ,i am thus seated1 and revolve over these thoughts1 ,i hear on a sudden a noise as of a door turning upon its hinges2 and a little after see a porter1 who advances towards me4 ,this gives occasion to many new reflections and reasonings4 ,first1 ,i never have observed that this noise could proceed from any thing but the motion of a door2 and therefore conclude1 that the present phenomenon is a contradiction to all past experience1 unless the door1 which ,i remember on t'other side the chamber1 be still in being4 ,again1 ,i have always found1 that a human body was possessed of a quality which ,i call gravity1 and which hinders it from mounting in the air1 as this porter must have done to arrive at my chamber1 unless the stairs ,i remember be not annihilated by my absence4 ,but this is not all4 ,i receive a letter1 which1 upon opening it1 ,i perceive by the handwriting and subscription to have come from a friend1 who says he is two hundred leagues distant4 ',tis evident ,i can never account for this phenomenon1 conformable to my experience in other instances1 without spreading out in my mind the whole sea and continent between us1 and supposing the effects and continued existence of posts and ferries1 according to my memory and observation4 ,to consider these phenomena of the porter and letter in a certain light1 they are contradictions to common experience1 and may be regarded as objections to those maxims which we form concerning the connexions of causes and effects4 ,i am accustomed to hear such a sound1 and see such an object in motion at the same time4 ,i have not received1 in this particular instance1 both these perceptions4 ,these observations are contrary1 unless ,i suppose that the door still remains1 and that it was opened without my perceiving it3 and this supposition1 which was at first entirely arbitrary and hypothetical1 acquires a force and evidence by its being the only one upon which ,i can reconcile these contradictions4 ,there is scarce a moment of my life1 wherein there is not a similar instance presented to me1 and ,i have not occasion to suppose the continued existence of objects1 in order to connect their past and present appearances1 and give them such an union with each other1 as ,i have found1 by experience1 to be suitable to their particular natures and circumstances4 ,here1 then1 ,i am naturally led to regard the world as something real and durable1 and as preserving its existence1 even when it is no longer present to my perception4 ,but1 though this conclusion1 from the coherence of appearances1 may seem to be of the same nature with our reasonings concerning causes and effects1 as being derived from custom1 and regulated by past experience1 we shall find1 upon examination1 that they are at the bottom considerably different from each other1 and that this inference arises from the understanding and from custom1 in an indirect and oblique manner4 ,for 'twill readily be allowed1 that since nothing is ever really present to the mind1 besides its own perceptions1 'tis not only impossible that any habit should ever be acquired otherwise than by the regular succession of these perceptions1 but also that any habit should ever exceed that degree of regularity4 ,any degree1 therefore1 of regularity in our perceptions1 can never be a foundation for us to infer a greater degree of regularity in some objects which are not perceived1 since this supposes a contradiction1 viz4 a habit acquired by what was never present to the mind4 ,but1 'tis evident that1 whenever we infer the continued existence of the objects of sense from their coherence1 and the frequency of their union1 'tis in order to bestow on the objects a greater regularity than what is observed in our mere perceptions4 ,we remark a connexion betwixt two kinds of objects in their past appearance to the senses1 but are not able to observe this connexion to be perfectly constant1 since the turning about of our head1 or the shutting of our eyes1 is able to break it4 ,what1 then1 do we suppose in this case1 but that these objects still continue their usual connexion1 notwithstanding their apparent interruption1 and that the irregular appearances are joined by something of which we are insensible8 ,but as all reasoning concerning matters of fact arises only from custom1 and custom can only be the effect of repeated perceptions1 the extending of custom and reasoning beyond the perceptions can never be the direct and natural effect of the constant repetition and connexion1 but must arise from the cooperation of some other principles4 ,i have already observed1#c in examining the foundation of mathematics1 that the imagination1 when set into any train of thinking1 is apt to continue even when its object fails it1 and1 like a galley put in motion by the oars1 carries on its course without any new impulse4 ,this ,i have assigned for the reason1 why1 after considering several loose standards of equality1 and correcting them by each other1 we proceed to imagine so correct and exact a standard of that relation as is not liable to the least error or variation4 ,the same principle makes us easily entertain this opinion of the continued existence of body4 ,objects have a certain coherence even as they appear to our senses2 but this coherence is much greater and more uniform if we suppose the objects to have a continued existence2 and as the mind is once in the train of observing an uniformity among objects1 it naturally continues till it renders the uniformity as complete as possible4 ,the simple supposition of their continued existence suffices for this purpose1 and gives us a notion of a much greater regularity among objects1 than what they have when we look no farther than our senses4 ,but whatever force we may ascribe to this principle1 ,i am afraid 'tis too weak to support alone so vast an edifice as is that of the continued existence of all external bodies2 and that we must join the constancy of their appearance to the coherence1 in order to give a satisfactory account of that opinion4 ,as the explication of this will lead me into a considerable compass of very profound reasoning1 ,i think it proper1 in order to avoid confusion1 to give a short sketch or abridgment of my system1 and afterwards draw out all its parts in their full compass4 ,this inference from the constancy of our perceptions1 like the precedent from their coherence1 gives rise to the opinion of the continued existence of body1 which is prior to that of its distinct existence1 and produces that latter principle4 ,when we have been accustomed to observe a constancy in certain impressions1 and have found that the perception of the sun or ocean1 for instance1 returns upon us1 after an absence or annihilation1 with like parts and in a like order as at its first appearance1 we are not apt to regard these interrupted perceptions as different 7which they really are71 but on the contrary consider them as individually the same1 upon account of their resemblance4 ,but as this interruption of their existence is contrary to their perfect identity1 and makes us regard the first impression as annihilated1 and the second as newly created1 we find ourselves somewhat at a loss1 and are involved in a kind of contradiction4 ,in order to free ourselves from this difficulty1 we disguise1 as much as possible1 the interruption1 or rather remove it entirely1 by supposing that these interrupted perceptions are connected by a real existence1 of which we are insensible4 ,this supposition1 or idea of continued existence1 acquires a force and vivacity from the memory of these broken impressions1 and from that propensity which they give us to suppose them the same2 and according to the precedent reasoning1 the very essence of belief consists in the force and vivacity of the conception4 ,in order to justify this system1 there are four things requisite4 ,first1 to explain the principium individuations1 or principle of identity4 ,secondly1 give a reason why the resemblance of our broken and interrupted perceptions induces us to attribute an identity to them4 ,thirdly1 account for that propensity1 which this allusion gives1 to unite these broken appearances by a continued existence4 ,fourthly1 and lastly1 explain that force and vivacity of conception which arises from the propensity4 ,first1 as to the principle of individuation1 we may observe1 that the view of any one object is not sufficient to convey the idea of identity4 ,for in that proposition1 an object is the same with itself1 if the idea expressed by the word object were no ways distinguished from that meant by itself2 we really should mean nothing1 nor would the proposition contain a predicate and a subject1 which1 however1 are implied in this affirmation4 ,one single object conveys the idea of unity1 not that of identity4 ,on the other hand1 a multiplicity of objects can never convey this idea1 however resembling they may be supposed4 ,the mind always pronounces the one not to be the other1 and considers them as forming two1 three1 or any determinate number of objects1 whose existences are entirely distinct and independent4 ,since then both number and unity are incompatible with the relation of identity1 it must lie in something that is neither of them4 ,but to tell the truth1 at first sight this seems utterly impossible4 ,betwixt unity and number there can be no medium2 no more than betwixt existence and non-existence4 ,after one object is supposed to exist1 we must either suppose another also to exist2 in which case we have the idea of number3 or we must suppose it not to exist2 in which case the first object remains at unity4 ,to remove this difficulty1 let us have recourse to the idea of time or duration4 ,i have already observed1#d that time1 in a strict sense1 implies succession1 and that1 when we apply its idea to any unchangeable object1 'tis only by a fiction of the imagination by which the unchangeable object is supposed to participate of the changes of the co-existent objects1 and in particular of that of our perceptions4 ,this fiction of the imagination almost universally takes place2 and 'tis by means of it that a single object1 placed before us1 and surveyed for any time without our discovering in it any interruption or variation1 is able to give us a notion of identity4 ,for when we consider any two points of this time1 we may place them in different lights3 we may either survey them at the very same instant2 in which case they give us the idea of number1 both by themselves and by the object2 which must be multiplied in order to be conceived at once1 as existent in these two different points of time3 or1 on the other hand1 we may trace the succession of time by a like succession of ideas1 and conceiving first one moment1 along with the object then existent1 imagine afterwards a change in the time without any variation or interruption in the object2 in which case it gives us the idea of unity4 ,here then is an idea1 which is a medium betwixt unity and number2 or1 more properly speaking1 is either of them1 according to the view in which we take it3 and this idea we call that of identity4 ,we cannot1 in any propriety of speech1 say that an object is the same with itself1 unless we mean that the object existent at one time is the same with itself existent at another4 ,by this means we make a difference betwixt the idea meant by the word object1 and that meant by itself1 without going the length of number1 and at the same time without restraining ourselves to a strict and absolute unity4 ,thus the principle of individuation is nothing but the invariableness and uninterruptedness of any object1 through a supposed variation of time1 by which the mind can trace it in the different periods of its existence1 without any break of the view1 and without being obliged to form the idea of multiplicity or number4 ,i now proceed to explain the second part of my system1 and show why the constancy of our perceptions makes us ascribe to them a perfect numerical identity1 though there be very long intervals betwixt their appearance1 and they have only one of the essential qualities of identity1 viz4 invariableness4 ,that ,i may avoid all ambiguity and confusion on this head1 ,i shall observe1 that ,i here account for the opinions and belief of the vulgar with regard to the existence of body2 and therefore must entirely conform myself to their manner of thinking and of expressing themselves4 ,now1 we have already observed1 that however philosophers may distinguish betwixt the objects and perceptions of the senses2 which they suppose co-existent and resembling2 yet this is a distinction which is not comprehended by the generality of mankind1 who1 as they perceive only one being1 can never assent to the opinion of a double existence and representation4 ,those very sensations which enter by the eye or ear are with them the true objects1 nor can they readily conceive that this pen or paper1 which is immediately perceived1 represents another which is different from1 but resembling it4 ,in order1 therefore1 to accommodate myself to their notions1 ,i shall at first suppose that there is only a single existence1 which ,i shall call indifferently object or perception1 according as it shall seem best to suit my purpose1 understanding by both of them what any common man means by a hat1 or shoe1 or stone1 or any other impression conveyed to him by his senses4 ,i shall be sure to give warning when ,i return to a more philosophical way of speaking and thinking4 ,to enter therefore upon the question concerning the source of the error and deception with regard to identity1 when we attribute it to our resembling perceptions1 notwithstanding their interruption1 ,i must here recal an observation which ,i have already proved and explained4#e ,nothing is more apt to make us mistake one idea for another1 than any relation betwixt them1 which associates them together in the imagination1 and makes it pass with facility from one to the other4 ,of all relations1 that of resemblance is in this respect the most efficacious2 and that because it not only causes an association of ideas1 but also of dispositions1 and makes us conceive the one idea by an act or operation of the mind1 similar to that by which we conceive the other4 ,this circumstance ,i have observed to be of great moment2 and we may establish it for a general rule1 that whatever ideas place the mind in the same disposition or in similar ones1 are very apt to be confounded4 ,the mind readily passes from one to the other1 and perceives not the change without a strict attention1 of which1 generally speaking1 'tis wholly incapable4 ,in order to apply this general maxim1 we must first examine the disposition of the mind in viewing any object which preserves a perfect identity1 and then find some other object that is confounded with it1 by causing a similar disposition4 ,when we fix our thought on any object1 and suppose it to continue the same for some time1 'tis evident we suppose the change to lie only in the time1 and never exert ourselves to produce any new image or idea of the object4 ,the faculties of the mind repose themselves in a manner1 and take no more exercise than what is necessary to continue that idea of which we were formerly possessed1 and which subsists without variation or interruption4 ,the passage from one moment to another is scarce felt1 and distinguishes not itself by a different perception or idea1 which may require a different direction of the spirits1 in order to its conception4 ,now1 what other objects1 beside identical ones1 are capable of placing the mind in the same disposition1 when it considers them1 and of causing the same uninterrupted passage of the imagination from one idea to another8 ,this question is of the last importance4 ,for if we can find any such objects1 we may certainly conclude1 from the foregoing principle1 that they are very naturally confounded with identical ones1 and are taken for them in most of our reasonings4 ,but though this question be very important1 'tis not very difficult nor doubtful4 ,for ,i immediately reply1 that a succession of related objects places the mind in this disposition1 and is considered with the same smooth and uninterrupted progress of the imagination1 as attends the view of the same invariable object4 ,the very nature and essence of relation is to connect our ideas with each other1 and upon the appearance of one1 to facilitate the transition to its correlative4 ,the passage betwixt related ideas1 is therefore so smooth and easy1 that it produces little alteration on the mind1 and seems like the continuation of the same action2 and as the continuation of the same action is an effect of the continued view of the same object1 'tis for this reason we attribute sameness to every succession of related objects4 ,the thought slides along the succession with equal facility1 as if it considered only one object2 and therefore confounds the succession with the identity4 ,we shall afterwards see many instances of this tendency of relation to make us ascribe an identity to different objects2 but shall here confine ourselves to the present subject4 ,we find by experience1 that there is such a constancy in almost all the impressions of the senses1 that their interruption produces no alteration on them1 and hinders them not from returning the same in appearance and in situation as at their first existence4 ,i survey the furniture of my chamber2 ,i shut my eyes1 and afterwards open them2 and find the new perceptions to resemble perfectly those which formerly struck my senses4 ,this resemblance is observed in a thousand instances1 and naturally connects together our ideas of these interrupted perceptions by the strongest relation1 and conveys the mind with an easy transition from one to another4 ,an easy transition or passage of the imagination1 along the ideas of these different and interrupted perceptions1 is almost the same disposition of mind with that in which we consider one constant and uninterrupted perception4 ',tis therefore very natural for us to mistake the one for the other4#f ,the persons who entertain this opinion concerning the identity of our resembling perceptions1 are in general all the unthinking and unphilosophical part of mankind1 7that is1 all of us at one time or other71 and1 consequently1 such as suppose their perceptions to be their only objects1 and never think of a double existence internal and external1 representing and represented4 ,the very image which is present to the senses is with us the real body2 and 'tis to these interrupted images we ascribe a perfect identity4 ,but as the interruption of the appearance seems contrary to the identity1 and naturally leads us to regard these resembling perceptions as different from each other1 we here find ourselves at a loss how to reconcile such opposite opinions4 ,the smooth passage of the imagination along the ideas of the resembling perceptions makes us ascribe to them a perfect identity4 ,the interrupted manner of their appearance makes us consider them as so many resembling1 but still distinct beings1 which appear after certain intervals4 ,the perplexity arising from this contradiction produces a propension to unite these broken appearances by the fiction of a continued existence1 which is the third part of that hypothesis ,i proposed to explain4 ,nothing is more certain from experience than that any contradiction either to the sentiments or passions gives a sensible uneasiness1 whether it proceeds from without or from within2 from the opposition of external objects1 or from the combat of internal principles4 ,on the contrary1 whatever strikes in with the natural propensities1 and either externally forwards their satisfaction1 or internally concurs with their movements1 is sure to give a sensible pleasure4 ,now1 there being here an opposition betwixt the notion of the identity of resembling perceptions1 and the interruption of their appearance1 the mind must be uneasy in that situation1 and will naturally seek relief from the uneasiness4 ,since the uneasiness arises from the opposition of two contrary principles1 it must look for relief by sacrificing the one to the other4 ,but as the smooth passage of our thought along our resembling perceptions makes us ascribe to them an identity1 we can never1 without reluctance1 yield up that opinion4 ,we must therefore turn to the other side1 and suppose that our perceptions are no longer interrupted1 but preserve a continued as well as an invariable existence1 and are by that means entirely the same4 ,but here the interruptions in the appearance of these perceptions are so long and frequent1 that 'tis impossible to overlook them2 and as the appearance of a perception in the mind and its existence seem at first sight entirely the same1 it may be doubted whether we can ever assent to so palpable a contradiction1 and suppose a perception to exist without being present to the mind4 ,in order to clear up this matter1 and learn how the interruption in the appearance of a perception implies not necessarily an interruption in its existence1 'twill be proper to touch upon some principles which we shall have occasion to explain more fully afterwards4#g ,we may begin with observing1 that the difficulty in the present case is not concerning the matter of fact1 or whether the mind forms such a conclusion concerning the continued existence of its perceptions1 but only concerning the manner in which the conclusion is formed1 and principles from which it is derived4 ',tis certain that almost all mankind1 and even philosophers themselves1 for the greatest part of their lives1 take their perceptions to be their only objects1 and suppose that the very being which is intimately present to the mind1 is the real body or material existence4 ',tis also certain that this very perception or object is supposed to have a continued uninterrupted being1 and neither to be annihilated by our absence1 nor to be brought into existence by our presence4 ,when we are absent from it1 we say it still exists1 but that we do not feel1 we do not see it4 ,when we are present1 we say we feel or see it4 ,here then may arise two questions2 first1 how we can satisfy ourselves in supposing a perception to be absent from the mind without being annihilated4 ,secondly1 after what manner we conceive an object to become present to the mind1 without some new creation of a perception or image2 and what we mean by this seeing1 and feeling1 and perceiving4 ,as to the first question1 we may observe1 that what we call a mind1 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 ,now1 as every perception is distinguishable from another1 and may be considered as separately existent2 it evidently follows1 that there is no absurdity in separating any particular perception from the mind2 that is1 in breaking off all its relations with that connected mass of perceptions which constitute a thinking being4 ,the same reasoning affords us an answer to the second question4 ,if the name of perception renders not this separation from a mind absurd and contradictory1 the name of object1 standing for the same thing1 can never render their conjunction impossible4 ,external objects are seen and felt1 and become present to the mind2 that is1 they acquire such a relation to a connected heap of perceptions as to influence them very considerably in augmenting their number by present reflections and passions1 and in storing the memory with ideas4 ,the same continued and uninterrupted being may1 therefore1 be sometimes present to the mind and sometimes absent from it without any real or essential change in the being itself4 ,an interrupted appearance to the senses implies not necessarily an interruption in the existence4 ,the supposition of the continued existence of sensible objects or perceptions involves no contradiction4 ,we may easily indulge our inclination to that supposition4 ,when the exact resemblance of our perceptions makes us ascribe to them an identity1 we may remove the seeming interruption by feigning a continued being1 which may fill those intervals1 and preserve a perfect and entire identity to our perceptions4 ,but as we here not only feign but believe this continued existence1 the question is1 from whence arises such a belief8 and this question leads us to the fourth member of this system4 ,it has been proved already1 that belief1 in general1 consists in nothing but the vivacity of an idea2 and that an idea may acquire this vivacity by its relation to some present impression4 ,impressions are naturally the most vivid perceptions of the mind2 and this quality is in part conveyed by the relation to every connected idea4 ,the relation causes a smooth passage from the impression to the idea1 and even gives a propensity to that passage4 ,the mind falls so easily from the one perception to the other1 that it scarce perceives the change1 but retains in the second a considerable share of the vivacity of the first4 ,it is excited by the lively impression1 and this vivacity is conveyed to the related idea1 without any great diminution in the passage1 by reason of the smooth transition and the propensity of the imagination4 ,but suppose that this propensity arises from some other principle1 besides that of relation2 'tis evident1 it must still have the same effect1 and convey the vivacity from the impression to the idea4 ,now1 this is exactly the present case4 ,our memory presents us with a vast number of instances of perceptions perfectly resembling each other1 that return at different distances of time1 and after considerable interruptions4 ,this resemblance gives us a propension to consider these interrupted perceptions as the same2 and also a propension to connect them by a continued existence1 in order to justify this identity1 and avoid the contradiction in which the interrupted appearance of these perceptions seems necessarily to involve us4 ,here then we have a propensity to feign the continued existence of all sensible objects2 and as this propensity arises from some lively impressions of the memory1 it bestows a vivacity on that fiction2 or1 in other words1 makes us believe the continued existence of body4 ,if1 sometimes we ascribe a continued existence to objects1 which are perfectly new to us1 and of whose constancy and coherence we have no experience1 'tis because the manner1 in which they present themselves to our senses1 resembles that of constant and coherent objects2 and this resemblance is a source of reasoning and analogy1 and leads us to attribute the same qualities to the similar objects4 ,i believe an intelligent reader will find less difficulty to assent to this system1 than to comprehend it fully and distinctly1 and will allow1 after a little reflection1 that every part carries its own proof along with it4 ',tis indeed evident1 that as the vulgar suppose their perceptions to be their only objects1 and at the same time believe the continued existence of matter1 we must account for the origin of the belief upon that supposition4 ,now1 upon that supposition1 'tis a false opinion that any of our objects1 or perceptions1 are identically the same after an interruption2 and consequently the opinion of their identity can never arise from reason1 but must arise from the imagination4 ,the imagination is seduced into such an opinion only by means of the resemblance of certain perceptions2 since we find they are only our resembling perceptions1 which we have a propension to suppose the same4 ,this propension to bestow an identity on our resembling perceptions1 produces the fiction of a continued existence2 since that fiction1 as well as the identity1 is really false1 as is acknowledged by all philosophers1 and has no other effect than to remedy the interruption of our perceptions1 which is the only circumstance that is contrary to their identity4 ,in the last place1 this propension causes belief by means of the present impressions of the memory2 since1 without the remembrance of former sensations1 'tis plain we never should have any belief of the continued existence of body4 ,thus1 in examining all these parts1 we find that each of them is supported by the strongest proofs2 and that all of them together form a consistent system1 which is perfectly convincing4 ,a strong propensity or inclination alone1 without any present impression1 will sometimes cause a belief or opinion4 ,how much more when aided by that circumstance6 ,but though we are led after this manner1 by the natural propensity of the imagination1 to ascribe a continued existence to those sensible objects or perceptions1 which we find to resemble each other in their interrupted appearance2 yet a very little reflection and philosophy is sufficient to make us perceive the fallacy of that opinion4 ,i have already observed1 that there is an intimate connexion betwixt those two principles1 of a continued and of a distinct or independent existence1 and that we no sooner establish the one than the other follows1 as a necessary consequence4 ',tis the opinion of a continued existence1 which first takes place1 and without much study or reflection draws the other along with it1 wherever the mind follows its first and most natural tendency4 ,but when we compare experiments1 and reason a little upon them1 we quickly perceive1 that the doctrine of the independent existence of our sensible perceptions is contrary to the plainest experience4 ,this leads us backward upon our footsteps to perceive our error in attributing a continued existence to our perceptions1 and is the origin of many very curious opinions1 which we shall here endeavour to account for4 ',twill first be proper to observe a few of those experiments1 which convince us1 that our perceptions are not possessed of any independent existence4 ,when we press one eye with a finger1 we immediately perceive all the objects to become double1 and one half of them to be removed from their common and natural position4 ,but as we do not attribute a continued existence to both these perceptions1 and as they are both of the same nature1 we clearly perceive1 that all our perceptions are dependent on our organs1 and the disposition of our nerves and animal spirits4 ,this opinion is confirmed by the seeming increase and diminution of objects according to their distance2 by the apparent alterations in their figure2 by the changes in their colour and other qualities1 from our sickness and distempers1 and by an infinite number of other experiments of the same kind2 from all which we learn1 that our sensible perceptions are not possessed of any distinct or independent existence4 ,the natural consequence of this reasoning should be1 that our perceptions have no more a continued than an independent existence2 and1 indeed1 philosophers have so far run into this opinion1 that they change their system1 and distinguish 7as we shall do for the future7 betwixt perceptions and objects1 of which the former are supposed to be interrupted and perishing1 and different at every different return2 the latter to be uninterrupted1 and to preserve a continued existence and identity4 ,but however philosophical this new system may be esteemed1 ,i assert that 'tis only a palliative remedy1 and that it contains all the difficulties of the vulgar system1 with some others that are peculiar to itself4 ,there are no principles either of the understanding or fancy1 which lead us directly to embrace this opinion of the double existence of perceptions and objects1 nor can we arrive at it but by passing through the common hypothesis of the identity and continuance of our interrupted perceptions4 ,were we not first persuaded that our perceptions are our only objects1 and continue to exist even when they no longer make their appearance to the senses1 we should never be led to think that our perceptions and objects are different1 and that our objects alone preserve a continued existence4 ,the latter hypothesis has no primary recommendation either to reason or the imagination1 but acquires all its influence on the imagination from the former4 ,this proposition contains two parts1 which we shall endeavour to prove as distinctly and clearly as such abstruse subjects will permit4 ,as to the first part of the proposition1 that this philosophical hypothesis has no primary recommendation1 either to reason or the imagination1 we may soon satisfy ourselves with regard to reason1 by the following reflections4 ,the only existences1 of which we are certain1 are perceptions1 which1 being immediately present to us by consciousness1 command our strongest assent1 and are the first foundation of all our conclusions4 ,the only conclusion we can draw from the existence of one thing to that of another1 is by means of the relation of cause and effect1 which shows1 that there is a connexion betwixt them1 and that the existence of one is dependent on that of the other4 ,the idea of this relation is derived from past experience1 by which we find1 that two beings are constantly conjoined together1 and are always present at once to the mind4 ,but as no beings are ever present to the mind but perceptions1 it follows1 that we may observe a conjunction or a relation of cause and effect between different perceptions1 but can never observe it between perceptions and objects4 ',tis impossible1 therefore1 that from the existence or any of the qualities of the former1 we can ever form any conclusion concerning the existence of the latter1 or ever satisfy our reason in this particular4 ',tis no less certain1 that this philosophical system has no primary recommendation to the imagination1 and that that faculty would never1 of itself1 and by its original tendency1 have fallen upon such a principle4 ,i confess it will be somewhat difficult to prove this to the full satisfaction of the reader2 because it implies a negative1 which in many cases will not admit of any positive proof4 ,if any one would take the pains to examine this question1 and would invent a system1 to account for the direct origin of this opinion from the imagination1 we should be able1 by the examination of that system1 to pronounce a certain judgment in the present subject4 ,let it be taken for granted1 that our perceptions are broken and interrupted1 and1 however like1 are still different from each other2 and let any one1 upon this supposition1 show why the fancy1 directly and immediately1 proceeds to the belief of another existence1 resembling these perceptions in their nature1 but yet continued1 and uninterrupted1 and identical2 and after he has done this to my satisfaction1 ,i promise to renounce my present opinion4 ,meanwhile ,i cannot forbear concluding1 from the very abstractedness and difficulty of the first supposition1 that 'tis an improper subject for the fancy to work upon4 ,whoever would explain the origin of the common opinion concerning the continued and distinct existence of body1 must take the mind in its common situation1 and must proceed upon the supposition1 that our perceptions are our only objects1 and continue to exist even when they are not perceived4 ,though this opinion be false1 'tis the most natural of any1 and has alone any primary recommendation to the fancy4 ,as to the second part of the proposition1 that the philosophical system acquires all its influence on the imagination from the vulgar one2 we may observe1 that this is a natural and unavoidable consequence of the foregoing conclusion1 that it has no primary recommendation to reason or the imagination4 ,for as the philosophical system is found by experience to take hold of many minds1 and1 in particular1 of all those who reflect ever so little on this subject1 it must derive all its authority from the vulgar system1 since it has no original authority of its own4 ,the manner in which these two systems1 though directly contrary1 are connected together1 may be explained as follows4 ,the imagination naturally runs on in this train of thinking4 ,our perceptions are our only objects3 resembling perceptions are the same1 however broken or uninterrupted in their appearance3 this appearing interruption is contrary to the identity3 the interruption consequently extends not beyond the appearance1 and the perception or object really continues to exist1 even when absent from us3 our sensible perceptions have1 therefore1 a continued and uninterrupted existence4 ,but as a little reflection destroys this conclusion1 that our perceptions have a continued existence1 by showing that they have a dependent one1 'twould naturally be expected1 that we must altogether reject the opinion1 that there is such a thing in nature as a continued existence1 which is preserved even when it no longer appears to the senses4 ,the case1 however1 is otherwise4 ,philosophers are so far from rejecting the opinion of a continued existence upon rejecting that of the independence and continuance of our sensible perceptions1 that though all sects agree in the latter sentiment1 the former1 which is in a manner its necessary consequence1 has been peculiar to a few extravagant sceptics2 who1 after all1 maintained that opinion in words only1 and were never able to bring themselves sincerely to believe it4 ,there is a great difference betwixt such opinions as we form after a calm and profound reflection1 and such as we embrace by a kind of instinct or natural impulse1 on account of their suitableness and conformity to the mind4 ,if these opinions become contrary1 'tis not difficult to foresee which of them will have the advantage4 ,as long as our attention is bent upon the subject1 the philosophical and studied principle may prevail2 but the moment we relax our thoughts1 nature will display herself1 and draw us back to our former opinion4 ,nay she has sometimes such an influence1 that she can stop our progress1 even in the midst of our most profound reflections1 and keep us from running on with all the consequences of any philosophical opinion4 ,thus1 though we clearly perceive the dependence and interruption of our perceptions1 we stop short in our career1 and never upon that account reject the notion of an independent and continued existence4 ,that opinion has taken such deep root in the imagination1 that 'tis impossible ever to eradicate it1 nor will any strained metaphysical conviction of the dependence of our perceptions be sufficient for that purpose4 ,but though our natural and obvious principles here prevail above our studied reflections1 'tis certain there must be some struggle and opposition in the case2 at least so long as these reflections retain any force or vivacity4 ,in order to set ourselves at ease in this particular1 we contrive a new hypothesis1 which seems to comprehend both these principles of reason and imagination4 ,this hypothesis is the philosophical one of the double existence of perceptions and objects2 which pleases our reason1 in allowing that our dependent perceptions are interrupted and different1 and at the same time is agreeable to the imagination1 in attributing a continued existence to something else1 which we call objects4 ,this philosophical system1 therefore1 is the monstrous offspring of two principles1 which are contrary to each other1 which are both at once embraced by the mind1 and which are unable mutually to destroy each other4 ,the imagination tells us1 that our resembling perceptions have a continued and uninterrupted existence1 and are not annihilated by their absence4 ,reflection tells us1 that even our resembling perceptions are interrupted in their existence1 and different from each other4 ,the contradiction betwixt these opinions we elude by a new fiction1 which is conformable to the hypotheses both of reflection and fancy1 by ascribing these contrary qualities to different existences2 the interruption to perceptions1 and the continuance to objects4 ,nature is obstinate1 and will not quit the field1 however strongly attacked by reason2 and at the same time reason is so clear in the point1 that there is no possibility of disguising her4 ,not being able to reconcile these two enemies1 we endeavour to set ourselves at ease as much as possible1 by successively granting to each whatever it demands1 and by feigning a double existence1 where each may find something that has all the conditions it desires4 ,were we fully convinced that our resembling perceptions are continued1 and identical1 and independent1 we should never run into this opinion of a double existence2 since we should find satisfaction in our first supposition1 and would not look beyond4 ,again1 were we fully convinced that our perceptions are dependent1 and interrupted1 and different1 we should be as little inclined to embrace the opinion of a double existence2 since in that case we should clearly perceive the error of our first supposition of a continued existence1 and would never regard it any farther4 ',tis therefore from the intermediate situation of the mind that this opinion arises1 and from such an adherence to these two contrary principles1 as makes us seek some pretext to justify our receiving both2 which happily at last is found in the system of a double existence4 ,another advantage of this philosophical system is its similarity to the vulgar one1 by which means we can humour our reason for a moment1 when it becomes troublesome and solicitous2 and yet upon its least negligence or inattention1 can easily return to our vulgar and natural notions4 ,accordingly we find1 that philosophers neglect not this advantage1 but1 immediately upon leaving their closets1 mingle with the rest of mankind in those exploded opinions1 that our perceptions are our only objects1 and continue identically and uninterruptedly the same in all their interrupted appearances4 ,there are other particulars of this system1 wherein we may remark its dependence on the fancy1 in a very conspicuous manner4 ,of these1 ,i shall observe the two following4 ,first1 we suppose external objects to resemble internal perceptions4 ,i have already shown1 that the relation of cause and effect can never afford us any just conclusion from the existence or qualities of our perceptions to the existence of external continued objects3 and ,i shall farther add1 that even though they could afford such a conclusion1 we should never have any reason to infer that our objects resemble our perceptions4 ,that opinion1 therefore1 is derived from nothing but the quality of the fancy above explained1 that it borrows all its ideas from some precedent perception4 ,we never can conceive any thing but perceptions1 and therefore must make every thing resemble them4 ,secondly1 as we suppose our objects in general to resemble our perceptions1 so we take it for granted1 that every particular object resembles that perception which it causes4 ,the relation of cause and effect determines us to join the other of resemblance2 and the ideas of these existences being already united together in the fancy by the former relation1 we naturally add the latter to complete the union4 ,we have a strong propensity to complete every union by joining new relations to those which we have before observed betwixt any ideas1 as we shall have occasion to observe presently4#h ,having thus given an account of all the systems1 both popular and philosophical1 with regard to external existences1 ,i cannot forbear giving vent to a certain sentiment which arises upon reviewing those systems4 ,i begun this subject with premising1 that we ought to have an implicit faith in our senses1 and that this would be the conclusion ,i should draw from the whole of my reasoning4 ,but to be ingenuous1 ,i feel myself at present of a quite contrary sentiment1 and am more inclined to repose no faith at all in my senses1 or rather imagination1 than to place in it such an implicit confidence4 ,i cannot conceive how such trivial qualities of the fancy1 conducted by such false suppositions1 can ever lead to any solid and rational system4 ,they are the coherence and constancy of our perceptions1 which produce the opinion of their continued existence2 though these qualities of perceptions have no perceivable connexion with such an existence4 ,the constancy of our perceptions has the most considerable effect1 and yet is attended with the greatest difficulties4 ',tis a gross illusion to suppose1 that our resembling perceptions are numerically the same2 and 'tis this illusion which leads us into the opinion1 that these perceptions are uninterrupted1 and are still existent1 even when they are not present to the senses4 ,this is the case with our popular system4 ,and as to our philosophical one1 'tis liable to the same difficulties2 and is1 over and above1 loaded with this absurdity1 that it at once denies and establishes the vulgar supposition4 ,philosophers deny our resembling perceptions to be identically the same1 and uninterrupted2 and yet have so great a propensity to believe them such1 that they arbitrarily invent a new set of perceptions1 to which they attribute these qualities4 ,i say1 a new set of perceptions3 for we may well suppose in general1 but 'tis impossible for us distinctly to conceive1 objects to be in their nature any thing but exactly the same with perceptions4 ,what then can we look for from this confusion of groundless and extraordinary opinions but error and falsehood8 ,and how can we justify to ourselves any belief we repose in them8 ,this sceptical doubt1 both with respect to reason and the senses1 is a malady which can never be radically cured1 but must return upon us every moment1 however we may chase it away1 and sometimes may seem entirely free from it4 ',tis impossible1 upon any system1 to defend either our understanding or senses2 and we but expose them farther when we endeavour to justify them in that manner4 ,as the sceptical doubt arises naturally from a profound and intense reflection on those subjects1 it always increases the farther we carry our reflections1 whether in opposition or conformity to it4 ,carelessness and inattention alone can afford us any remedy4 ,for this reason ,i rely entirely upon them2 and take it for granted1 whatever may be the reader's opinion at this present moment1 that an hour hence he will be persuaded there is both an external and internal world2 and1 going upon that supposition1 ,i intend to examine some general systems1 both ancient and modern1 which have been proposed of both1 before ,i proceed to a more particular inquiry concerning our impressions4 ,this will not1 perhaps1 in the end1 be found foreign to our present purpose4 #a ,part ,,ii4 ,sect4 #f4 #b ,sect4 #e4 #c ,part ,,ii4 ,sect4 #d4 #d ,part ,,ii4 ,sect4 #e4 #e ,part4 ,,ii4 ,sect4 #e4 #f ,this reasoning1 it must be confessed1 is somewhat abstruse1 and difficult to be comprehended2 but it is remarkable1 that this very difficulty may be converted into a proof of the reasoning4 ,we may observe1 that there are two relations1 and both of them resemblances1 which contribute to our mistaking the succession of our interrupted perceptions for an identical object4 ,the first is1 the resemblance of the perceptions3 the second is1 the resemblance which the act of the mind in surveying a succession of resembling objects1 bears to that in surveying an identical object4 ,now these resemblances we are apt to confound with each other2 and 'tis natural we should1 according to this very reasoning4 ,but let us keep them distinct1 and we shall find no difficulty in conceiving the precedent argument4 #g ,sect4 #f4 #h ,sect4 #e4 ,,section ,,iii4 ,,of ,,the ,,ancient ,,philosophy4 ,several moralists have recommended it as an excellent method of becoming acquainted with our own hearts1 and knowing our progress in virtue1 to recollect our dreams in a morning1 and examine them with the same rigour that we would our most serious and most deliberate actions4 ,our character is the same throughout1 say they1 and appears best where artifice1 fear and policy1 have no place1 and men can neither be hypocrites with themselves nor others4 ,the generosity or baseness of our temper1 our meekness or cruelty1 our courage or pusillanimity1 influence the fictions of the imagination with the most unbounded liberty1 and discover themselves in the most glaring colours4 ,in like manner1 ,i am persuaded1 there might be several useful discoveries made from a criticism of the fictions of the ancient philosophy concerning substances1 and substantial forms1 and accidents1 and occult qualities1 which1 however unreasonable and capricious1 have a very intimate connexion with the principles of human nature4 ',tis confessed by the most judicious philosophers1 that our ideas of bodies are nothing but collections formed by the mind of the ideas of the several distinct sensible qualities1 of which objects are composed1 and which we find to have a constant union with each other4 ,but however these qualities may in themselves be entirely distinct1 'tis certain we commonly regard the compound1 which they form1 as one thing1 and as continuing the same under very considerable alterations4 ,the acknowledged composition is evidently contrary to this supposed simplicity1 and the variation to the identity4 ,it may therefore be worth while to consider the causes1 which make us almost universally fall into such evident contradictions1 as well as the means by which we endeavour to conceal them4 ',tis evident1 that as the ideas of the several distinct successive qualities of objects are united together by a very close relation1 the mind1 in looking along the succession1 must be carried from one part of it to another by an easy transition1 and will no more perceive the change1 than if it contemplated the same unchangeable object4 ,this easy transition is the effect1 or rather essence of relation2 and as the imagination readily takes one idea for another1 where their influence on the mind is similar2 hence it proceeds1 that any such succession of related qualities is readily considered as one continued object1 existing without any variation4 ,the smooth and uninterrupted progress of the thought1 being alike in both cases1 readily deceives the mind1 and makes us ascribe an identity to the changeable succession of connected qualities4 ,but when we alter our method of considering the succession1 and1 instead of tracing it gradually through the successive points of time1 survey at once any two distinct periods of its duration1 and compare the different conditions of the successive qualities2 in that case the variations1 which were insensible when they arose gradually1 do now appear of consequence1 and seem entirely to destroy the identity4 ,by this means there arises a kind of contrariety in our method of thinking1 from the different points of view1 in which we survey the object1 and from the nearness or remoteness of those instants of time1 which we compare together4 ,when we gradually follow an object in its successive changes1 the smooth progress of the thought makes us ascribe an identity to the succession2 because 'tis by a similar act of the mind we consider an unchangeable object4 ,when we compare its situation after a considerable change the progress of the thought is broke2 and consequently we are presented with the idea of diversity2 in order to reconcile which contradictions the imagination is apt to feign something unknown and invisible1 which it supposes to continue the same under all these variations2 and this unintelligible something it calls a substance1 or original and first matter4 ,we entertain a like notion with regard to the simplicity of substances1 and from like causes4 ,suppose an object perfectly simple and indivisible to be presented1 along with another object1 whose co-existent parts are connected together by a strong relation1 'tis evident the actions of the mind1 in considering these two objects1 are not very different4 ,the imagination conceives the simple object at once1 with facility1 by a single effort of thought1 without change or variation4 ,the connexion of parts in the compound object has almost the same effect1 and so unites the object within itself1 that the fancy feels not the transition in passing from one part to another4 ,hence the colour1 taste1 figure1 solidity1 and other qualities1 combined in a peach or melon1 are conceived to form one thing2 and that on account of their close relation1 which makes them affect the thought in the same manner1 as if perfectly uncompounded4 ,but the mind rests not here4 ,whenever it views the object in another light1 it finds that all these qualities are different1 and distinguishable1 and separable from each other2 which view of things being destructive of its primary and more natural notions1 obliges the imagination to feign an unknown something1 or original substance and matter1 as a principle of union or cohesion among these qualities1 and as what may give the compound object a title to be called one thing1 notwithstanding its diversity and composition4 ,the ,peripatetic philosophy asserts the original matter to be perfectly homogeneous in all bodies1 and considers fire1 water1 earth1 and air1 as of the very same substance1 on account of their gradual revolutions and changes into each other4 ,at the same time it assigns to each of these species of objects a distinct substantial form1 which it supposes to be the source of all those different qualities they possess1 and to be a new foundation of simplicity and identity to each particular species4 ,all depends on our manner of viewing the objects4 ,when we look along the insensible changes of bodies1 we suppose all of them to be of the same substance or essence4 ,when we consider their sensible differences1 we attribute to each of them a substantial and essential difference4 ,and in order to indulge ourselves in both these ways of considering our objects1 we suppose all bodies to have at once a substance and a substantial form4 ,the notion of accidents is an unavoidable consequence of this method of thinking with regard to substances and substantial forms2 nor can we forbear looking upon colours1 sounds1 tastes1 figures1 and other properties of bodies1 as existences1 which cannot subsist apart1 but require a subject of inhesion to sustain and support them4 ,for having never discovered any of these sensible qualities1 where1 for the reasons above mentioned1 we did not likewise fancy a substance to exist2 the same habit1 which makes us infer a connexion betwixt cause and effect1 makes us here infer a dependence of every quality on the unknown substance4 ,the custom of imagining a dependence has the same effect as the custom of observing it would have4 ,this conceit1 however1 is no more reasonable than any of the foregoing4 ,every quality being a distinct thing from another1 may be conceived to exist apart1 and may exist apart not only from every other quality1 but from that unintelligible chimera of a substance4 ,but these philosophers carry their fictions still farther in their sentiments concerning occult qualities1 and both suppose a substance supporting1 which they do not understand1 and an accident supported1 of which they have as imperfect an idea4 ,the whole system1 therefore1 is entirely incomprehensible1 and yet is derived from principles as natural as any of these above explained4 ,in considering this subject1 we may observe a gradation of three opinions that rise above each other1 according as the persons who form them acquire new degrees of reason and knowledge4 ,these opinions are that of the vulgar1 that of a false philosophy1 and that of the true2 where we shall find upon inquiry1 that the true philosophy approaches nearer to the sentiments of the vulgar than to those of a mistaken knowledge4 ',tis natural for men1 in their common and careless way of thinking1 to imagine they perceive a connexion betwixt such objects as they have constantly found united together2 and because custom has rendered it difficult to separate the ideas1 they are apt to fancy such a separation to be in itself impossible and absurd4 ,but philosophers1 who abstract from the effects of custom1 and compare the ideas of objects1 immediately perceive the falsehood of these vulgar sentiments1 and discover that there is no known connexion among objects4 ,every different object appears to them entirely distinct and separate2 and they perceive that 'tis not from a view of the nature and qualities of objects we infer one from another1 but only when in several instances we observe them to have been constantly conjoined4 ,but these philosophers1 instead of drawing a just inference from this observation1 and concluding1 that we have no idea of power or agency1 separate from the mind and belonging to causes2 ,i say1 instead of drawing this conclusion1 they frequently search for the qualities in which this agency consists1 and are displeased with every system which their reason suggests to them1 in order to explain it4 ,they have sufficient force of genius to free them from the vulgar error1 that there is a natural and perceivable connexion betwixt the several sensible qualities and actions of matter1 but not sufficient to keep them from ever seeking for this connexion in matter or causes4 ,had they fallen upon the just conclusion1 they would have returned back to the situation of the vulgar1 and would have regarded all these disquisitions with indolence and indifference4 ,at present they seem to be in a very lamentable condition1 and such as the poets have given us but a faint notion of in their descriptions of the punishment of ,sisyphus and ,tantalus4 ,for what can be imagined more tormenting than to seek with eagerness what for ever flies us1 and seek for it in a place where 'tis impossible it can ever exist8 ,but as ,nature seems to have observed a kind of justice and compensation in every thing1 she has not neglected philosophers more than the rest of the creation1 but has reserved them a consolation amid all their disappointments and afflictions4 ,this consolation principally consists in their invention of the words faculty and occult quality4 ,for it being usual1 after the frequent use of terms1 which are really significant and intelligible1 to omit the idea which we would express by them1 and preserve only the custom by which we recal the idea at pleasure2 so it naturally happens1 that after the frequent use of terms which are wholly insignificant and unintelligible1 we fancy them to be on the same footing with the precedent1 and to have a secret meaning which we might discover by reflection4 ,the resemblance of their appearance deceives the mind1 as is usual1 and makes us imagine a thorough resemblance and conformity4 ,by this means these philosophers set themselves at ease1 and arrive at last1 by an illusion1 at the same indifference which the people attain by their stupidity1 and true philosophers by their moderate scepticism4 ,they need only say1 that any phenomenon which puzzles them arises from a faculty or an occult quality1 and there is an end of all dispute and inquiry upon the matter4 ,but among all the instances wherein the ,peripatetics have shown they were guided by every trivial propensity of the imagination1 no one is more remarkable than their sympathies1 antipathies1 and horrors of a vacuum4 ,there is a very remarkable inclination in human nature to bestow on external objects the same emotions which it observes in itself1 and to find every where those ideas which are most present to it4 ,this inclination1 'tis true1 is suppressed by a little reflection1 and only takes place in children1 poets1 and the ancient philosophers4 ,it appears in children1 by their desire of beating the stones which hurt them3 in poets by their readiness to personify every thing2 and in the ancient philosophers1 by these fictions of sympathy and antipathy4 ,we must pardon children1 because of their age2 poets1 because they profess to follow implicitly the suggestions of their fancy2 but what excuse shall we find to justify our philosophers in so signal a weakness8 ,,section ,,iv4 ,,of ,,the ,,modern ,,philosophy4 ,but here it may be objected1 that the imagination1 according to my own confession1 being the ultimate judge of all systems of philosophy1 ,i am unjust in blaming the ancient philosophers for making use of that faculty1 and allowing themselves to be entirely guided by it in their reasonings4 ,in order to justify myself1 ,i must distinguish in the imagination betwixt the principles which are permanent1 irresistible1 and universal2 such as the customary transition from causes to effects1 and from effects to causes3 and the principles1 which are changeable1 weak and irregular2 such as those ,i have just now taken notice of4 ,the former are the foundation of all our thoughts and actions1 so that upon their removal1 human nature must immediately perish and go to ruin4 ,the latter are neither unavoidable to mankind1 nor necessary1 or so much as useful in the conduct of life2 but1 on the contrary1 are observed only to take place in weak minds1 and being opposite to the other principles of custom and reasoning1 may easily be subverted by a due contrast and opposition4 ,for this reason1 the former are received by philosophy1 and the latter rejected4 ,one who concludes somebody to be near him1 when he hears an articulate voice in the dark1 reasons justly and naturally2 though that conclusion be derived from nothing but custom1 which infixes and enlivens the idea of a human creature1 on account of his usual conjunction with the present impression4 ,but one1 who is tormented he knows not why1 with the apprehension of spectres in the dark1 may perhaps be said to reason1 and to reason naturally too3 but then it must be in the same sense that a malady is said to be natural2 as arising from natural causes1 though it be contrary to health1 the most agreeable and most natural situation of man4 ,the opinions of the ancient philosophers1 their fictions of substance and accident1 and their reasonings concerning substantial forms and occult qualities1 are like the spectres in the dark1 and are derived from principles1 which1 however common1 are neither universal nor unavoidable in human nature4 ,the modern philosophy pretends to be entirely free from this defect1 and to arise only from the solid1 permanent1 and consistent principles of the imagination4 ,upon what grounds this pretension is founded1 must now be the subject of our inquiry4 ,the fundamental principle of that philosophy is the opinion concerning colours1 sounds1 tastes1 smells1 heat and cold2 which it asserts to be nothing but impressions in the mind1 derived from the operation of external objects1 and without any resemblance to the qualities of the objects4 ,upon examination1 ,i find only one of the reasons commonly produced for this opinion to be satisfactory2 viz4 that derived from the variations of those impressions1 even while the external object1 to all appearance1 continues the same4 ,these variations depend upon several circumstances4 ,upon the different situations of our health3 a man in a malady feels a disagreeable taste in meats1 which before pleased him the most4 ,upon the different complexions and constitutions of men3 that seems bitter to one1 which is sweet to another4 ,upon the difference of their external situation and position3 colours reflected from the clouds change according to the distance of the clouds1 and according to the angle they make with the eye and luminous body4 ,fire also communicates the sensation of pleasure at one distance1 and that of pain at another4 ,instances of this kind are very numerous and frequent4 ,the conclusion drawn from them1 is likewise as satisfactory as can possibly be imagined4 ',tis certain1 that when different impressions of the same sense arise from any object1 every one of these impressions has not a resembling quality existent in the object4 ,for as the same object cannot1 at the same time1 be endowed with different qualities of the same sense1 and as the same quality cannot resemble impressions entirely different2 it evidently follows1 that many of our impressions have no external model or archetype4 ,now1 from like effects we presume like causes4 ,many of the impressions of colour1 sound1 c41 are confessed to be nothing but internal existences1 and to arise from causes1 which no ways resemble them4 ,these impressions are in appearance nothing different from the other impressions of colour1 sound1 c4 ,we conclude1 therefore1 that they are1 all of them1 derived from a like origin4 ,this principle being once admitted1 all the other doctrines of that philosophy seem to follow by an easy consequence4 ,for1 upon the removal of sounds1 colours1 heat1 cold1 and other sensible qualities1 from the rank of continued independent existences1 we are reduced merely to what are called primary qualities1 as the only real ones1 of which we have any adequate notion4 ,these primary qualities are extension and solidity1 with their different mixtures and modifications2 figure1 motion1 gravity and cohesion4 ,the generation1 increase1 decay and corruption of animals and vegetables1 are nothing but changes of figure and motion2 as also the operations of all bodies on each other2 of fire1 of light1 water1 air1 earth1 and of all the elements and powers of nature4 ,one figure and motion produces another figure and motion2 nor does there remain in the material universe any other principle1 either active or passive1 of which we can form the most distant idea4 ,i believe many objections might be made to this system2 but at present ,i shall confine myself to one1 which is1 in my opinion1 very decisive4 ,i assert1 that instead of explaining the operations of external objects by its means1 we utterly annihilate all these objects1 and reduce ourselves to the opinions of the most extravagant scepticism concerning them4 ,if colours1 sounds1 tastes and smells be merely perceptions1 nothing1 we can conceive1 is possessed of a real1 continued1 and independent existence2 not even motion1 extension and solidity1 which are the primary qualities chiefly insisted on4 ,to begin with the examination of motion2 'tis evident this is a quality altogether inconceivable alone1 and without a reference to some other object4 ,the idea of motion necessarily supposes that of a body moving4 ,now1 what is our idea of the moving body1 without which motion is incomprehensible8 ,it must resolve itself into the idea of extension or of solidity2 and consequently the reality of motion depends upon that of these other qualities4 ,this opinion1 which is universally acknowledged concerning motion1 ,i have proved to be true with regard to extension2 and have shown that 'tis impossible to conceive extension but as composed of parts1 endowed with colour or solidity4 ,the idea of extension is a compound idea2 but as it is not compounded of an infinite number of parts or inferior ideas1 it must at last resolve itself into such as are perfectly simple and indivisible4 ,these simple and indivisible parts not being ideas of extension1 must be nonentities1 unless conceived as coloured or solid4 ,colour is excluded from any real existence4 ,the reality therefore of our idea of extension depends upon the reality of that of solidity2 nor can the former be just while the latter is chimerical4 ,let us then lend our attention to the examination of the idea of solidity4 ,the idea of solidity is that of two objects1 which1 being impelled by the utmost force1 cannot penetrate each other1 but still maintain a separate and distinct existence4 ,solidity therefore is perfectly incomprehensible alone1 and without the conception of some bodies which are solid1 and maintain this separate and distinct existence4 ,now1 what idea have we of these bodies8 ,the ideas of colours1 sounds1 and other secondary qualities1 are excluded4 ,the idea of motion depends on that of extension1 and the idea of extension on that of solidity4 ',tis impossible1 therefore1 that the idea of solidity can depend on either of them4 ,for that would be to run in a circle1 and make one idea depend on another1 while1 at the same time1 the latter depends on the former4 ,our modern philosophy1 therefore1 leaves us no just nor satisfactory idea of solidity1 nor consequently of matter4 ,this argument will appear entirely conclusive to every one that comprehends it2 but because it may seem abstruse and intricate to the generality of readers1 ,i hope to be excused if ,i endeavour to render it more obvious by some variation of the expression4 ,in order to form an idea of solidity1 we must conceive two bodies pressing on each other without any penetration2 and 'tis impossible to arrive at this idea1 when we confine ourselves to one object1 much more without conceiving any4 ,two nonentities cannot exclude each other from their places1 because they never possess any place1 nor can be endowed with any quality4 ,now ,i ask1 what idea do we form of these bodies or objects to which we suppose solidity to belong8 ,to say that we conceive them merely as solid1 is1 to run on in infinitum4 ,to affirm that we paint them out to ourselves as extended1 either resolves all into a false idea1 or returns in a circle4 ,extension must necessarily be considered either as coloured1 which is a false idea1 or as solid1 which brings us back to the first question4 ,we may make the same observation concerning mobility and figure2 and1 upon the whole1 must conclude1 that after the exclusion of colours1 sounds1 heat and cold1 from the rank of external existences1 there remains nothing which can afford us a just and consistent idea of body4 ,add to this1 that1 properly speaking1 solidity or impenetrability is nothing but an impossibility of annihilation1 as has been already observed3#h for which reason 'tis the more necessary for us to form some distinct idea of that object whose annihilation we suppose impossible4 ,an impossibility of being annihilated cannot exist1 and can never be conceived to exist1 by itself1 but necessarily requires some object or real existence to which it may belong4 ,now1 the difficulty still remains how to form an idea of this object or existence1 without having recourse to the secondary and sensible qualities4 ,nor must we omit1 on this occasion1 our accustomed method of examining ideas by considering those impressions from which they are derived4 ,the impressions which enter by the sight and hearing1 the smell and taste1 are affirmed by modern philosophy to be without any resembling objects2 and consequently the idea of solidity1 which is supposed to be real1 can never be derived from any of these senses4 ,there remains1 therefore1 the feeling as the only sense that can convey the impression which is original to the idea of solidity2 and1 indeed1 we naturally imagine that we feel the solidity of bodies1 and need but touch any object in order to perceive this quality4 ,but this method of thinking is more popular than philosophical1 as will appear from the following reflections4 ,first1 'tis easy to observe1 that though bodies are felt by means of their solidity1 yet the feeling is a quite different thing from the solidity1 and that they have not the least resemblance to each other4 ,a man who has the palsy in one hand has as perfect an idea of impenetrability1 when he observes that hand to be supported by the table1 as when he feels the same table with the other hand4 ,an object that presses upon any of our members meets with resistance2 and that1 resistance1 by the motion it gives to the nerves and animal spirits1 conveys a certain sensation to the mind2 but it does not follow that the sensation1 motion and resistance1 are any ways resembling4 ,secondly1 the impressions of touch are simple impressions1 except when considered with regard to their extension2 which makes nothing to the present purpose3 and from this simplicity ,i infer1 that they neither represent solidity1 nor any real object4 ,for let us put two cases1 viz4 that of a man who presses a stone or any solid body with his hand1 and that of two stones which press each other2 'twill readily be allowed that these two cases are not in every respect alike1 but that in the former there is conjoined with the solidity a feeling or sensation of which there is no appearance in the latter4 ,in order1 therefore1 to make these two cases alike1 'tis necessary to remove some part of the impression which the man feels by his hand1 or organ of sensation2 and that being impossible in a simple impression1 obliges us to remove the whole1 and proves that this whole impression has no archetype or model in external objects2 to which we may add1 that solidity necessarily supposes two bodies1 along with contiguity and impulse2 which being a compound object1 can never be represented by a simple impression4 ,not to mention1 that1 though solidity continues always invariably the same1 the impressions of touch change every moment upon us1 which is a clear proof that the latter are not representations of the former4 ,thus there is a direct and total opposition betwixt our reason and our senses2 or1 more properly speaking1 betwixt those conclusions we form from cause and effect1 and those that persuade us of the continued and independent existence of body4 ,when we reason from cause and effect1 we conclude1 that neither colour1 sound1 taste nor smell1 have a continued and independent existence4 ,when we exclude these sensible qualities1 there remains nothing in the universe which has such an existence4 #h ,part ,,ii4 ,sect4 #d4 ,,section ,v4 ,,of ,,the ,,immateriality ,,of ,,the ,,soul4 ,having found such contradictions and difficulties in every system concerning external objects1 and in the idea of matter1 which we fancy so clear and determinate1 we shall naturally expect still greater difficulties and contradictions in every hypothesis concerning our internal perceptions1 and the nature of the mind1 which we are apt to imagine so much more obscure and uncertain4 ,but in this we should deceive ourselves4 ,the intellectual world1 though involved in infinite obscurities1 is not perplexed with any such contradictions as those we have discovered in the natural4 ,what is known concerning it1 agrees with itself2 and what is unknown1 we must be contented to leave so4 ',tis true1 would we hearken to certain philosophers1 they promise to diminish our ignorance2 but ,i am afraid 'tis at the hazard of running us into contradictions1 from which the subject is of itself exempted4 ,these philosophers are the curious reasoners concerning the material or immaterial substances1 in which they suppose our perceptions to inhere4 ,in order to put a stop to these endless cavils on both sides1 ,i know no better method1 than to ask these philosophers in a few words1 ,what they mean by substance and inhesion8 ,and after they have answered this question1 'twill then be reasonable1 and not till then1 to enter seriously into the dispute4 ,this question we have found impossible to be answered with regard to matter and body2 but besides that in the case of the mind it labours under all the same difficulties1 'tis burthened with some additional ones1 which are peculiar to that subject4 ,as every idea is derived from a precedent impression1 had we any idea of the substance of our minds1 we must also have an impression of it1 which is very difficult1 if not impossible1 to be conceived4 ,for how can an impression represent a substance1 otherwise than by resembling it8 ,and how can an impression resemble a substance1 since1 according to this philosophy1 it is not a substance1 and has none of the peculiar qualities or characteristics of a substance8 ,but leaving the question of what may or may not be1 for that other what actually is1 ,i desire those philosophers1 who pretend that we have an idea of the substance of our minds1 to point out the impression that produces it1 and tell distinctly after what manner that impression operates1 and from what object it is derived4 ,is it an impression of sensation or reflection8 ,is it pleasant1 or painful1 or indifferent8 ,does it attend us at all times1 or does it only return at intervals8 ,if at intervals1 at what times principally does it return1 and by what causes is it produced8 ,if1 instead of answering these questions1 any one should evade the difficulty1 by saying1 that the definition of a substance is something which may exist by itself1 and that this definition ought to satisfy us3 should this be said1 ,i should observe1 that this definition agrees to every thing that can possibly be conceived2 and never will serve to distinguish substance from accident1 or the soul from its perceptions4 ,for thus ,i reason4 ,whatever is clearly conceived1 may exist2 and whatever is clearly conceived1 after any manner1 may exist after the same manner4 ,this is one principle which has been already acknowledged4 ,again1 every thing which is different is distinguishable1 and every thing which is distinguishable is separable by the imagination4 ,this is another principle4 ,my conclusion from both is1 that since all our perceptions are different from each other1 and from every thing else in the universe1 they are also distinct and separable1 and may be considered as separately existent1 and may exist separately1 and have no need of any thing else to support their existence4 ,they are therefore substances1 as far as this definition explains a substance4 ,thus1 neither by considering the first origin of ideas1 nor by means of a definition1 are we able to arrive at any satisfactory notion of substance1 which seems to me a sufficient reason for abandoning utterly that dispute concerning the materiality and immateriality of the soul1 and makes me absolutely condemn even the question itself4 ,we have no perfect idea of any thing but of a perception4 ,a substance is entirely different from a perception4 ,we have therefore no idea of a substance4 ,inhesion in something is supposed to be requisite to support the existence of our perceptions4 ,nothing appears requisite to support the existence of a perception4 ,we have therefore no idea of inhesion4 ,what possibility then of answering that question1 ,whether perceptions inhere in a material or immaterial substance1 when we do not so much as understand the meaning of the question8 ,there is one argument commonly employed for the immateriality of the soul1 which seems to me remarkable4 ,whatever is extended consists of parts2 and whatever consists of parts is divisible1 if not in reality1 at least in the imagination4 ,but 'tis impossible any thing divisible can be conjoined to a thought or perception1 which is a being altogether inseparable and indivisible4 ,for1 supposing such a conjunction1 would the indivisible thought exist on the left or on the right hand of this extended divisible body8 ,on the surface or in the middle8 ,on the back or fore-side of it8 ,if it be conjoined with the extension1 it must exist somewhere within its dimensions4 ,if it exist within its dimensions1 it must either exist in one particular part2 and then that particular part is indivisible1 and the perception is conjoined only with it1 not with the extension3 or if the thought exists in every part1 it must also be extended1 and separable1 and divisible1 as well as the body1 which is utterly absurd and contradictory4 ,for can any one conceive a passion of a yard in length1 a foot in breadth1 and an inch in thickness8 ,thought therefore and extension are qualities wholly incompatible1 and never can incorporate together into one subject4 ,this argument affects not the question concerning the substance of the soul1 but only that concerning its local conjunction with matter2 and therefore it may not be improper to consider in general what objects are1 or are not susceptible of a local conjunction4 ,this is a curious question1 and may lead us to some discoveries of considerable moment4 ,the first notion of space and extension is derived solely from the senses of sight and feeling2 nor is there anything1 but what is coloured or tangible1 that has parts disposed after such a manner as to convey that idea4 ,when we diminish or increase a relish1 'tis not after the same manner that we diminish or increase any visible object2 and when several sounds strike our hearing at once1 custom and reflection alone make us form an idea of the degrees of the distance and contiguity of those bodies from which they are derived4 ,whatever marks the place of its existence1 either must be extended1 or must be a mathematical point1 without parts or composition4 ,what is extended must have a particular figure1 as square1 round1 triangular2 none of which will agree to a desire1 or indeed to any impression or idea1 except of these two senses above-mentioned4 ,neither ought a desire1 though indivisible1 to be considered as a mathematical point4 ,for in that case 'twould be possible1 by the addition of others1 to make two1 three1 four desires2 and these disposed and situated in such a manner1 as to have a determinate length1 breadth1 and thickness2 which is evidently absurd4 ',twill not be surprising after this1 if ,i deliver a maxim1 which is condemned by several metaphysicians1 and is esteemed contrary to the most certain principles of human reason4 ,this maxim is1 that an object may exist1 and yet be no where3 and ,i assert1 that this is not only possible1 but that the greatest part of beings do and must exist after this manner4 ,an object may be said to be no where1 when its parts are not so situated with respect to each other1 as to form any figure or quantity2 nor the whole with respect to other bodies so as to answer to our notions of contiguity or distance4 ,now1 this is evidently the case with all our perceptions and objects1 except those of the sight and feeling4 ,a moral reflection cannot be placed on the right or on the left hand of a passion2 nor can a smell or sound be either of a circular or a square figure4 ,these objects and perceptions1 so far from requiring any particular place1 are absolutely incompatible with it1 and even the imagination cannot attribute it to them4 ,and as to the absurdity of supposing them to be no where1 we may consider1 that if the passions and sentiments appear to the perception to have any particular place1 the idea of extension might be derived from them1 as well as from the sight and touch2 contrary to what we have already established4 ,if they appear not to have any particular place1 they may possibly exist in the same manner2 since whatever we conceive is possible4 ',twill not now be necessary to prove1 that those perceptions1 which are simple1 and exist no where1 are incapable of any conjunction in place with matter or body1 which is extended and divisible2 since 'tis impossible to found a relation but on some common quality4#i ,it may be better worth our while to remark1 that this question of the local conjunction of objects1 does not only occur in metaphysical disputes concerning the nature of the soul1 but that even in common life we have every moment occasion to examine it4 ,thus1 supposing we consider a fig at one end of the table1 and an olive at the other1 'tis evident1 that1 in forming the complex ideas of these substances1 one of the most obvious is that of their different relishes2 and 'tis as evident1 that we incorporate and conjoin these qualities with such as are coloured and tangible4 ,the bitter taste of the one1 and sweet of the other1 are supposed to lie in the very visible body1 and to be separated from each other by the whole length of the table4 ,this is so notable and so natural an illusion1 that it may be proper to consider the principles from which it is derived4 ,though an extended object be incapable of a conjunction in place with another that exists without any place or extension1 yet are they susceptible of many other relations4 ,thus the taste and smell of any fruit are inseparable from its other qualities of colour and tangibility2 and whichever of them be the cause or effect1 'tis certain they are always co-existent4 ,nor are they only co-existent in general1 but also cotemporary in their appearance in the mind2 and 'tis upon the application of the extended body to our senses we perceive its particular taste and smell4 ,these relations1 then1 of causation1 and contiguity in the time of their appearance1 betwixt the extended object and the quality1 which exists without any particular place1 must have such an effect on the mind1 that1 upon the appearance of one1 it will immediately turn its thought to the conception of the other4 ,nor is this all4 ,we not only turn our thought from one to the other upon account of their relation1 but likewise endeavour to give them a new relation1 viz4 that of a conjunction in place1 that we may render the transition more easy and natural4 ,for 'tis a quality1 which ,i shall often have occasion to remark in human nature1 and shall explain more fully in its proper place1 that1 when objects are united by any relation1 we have a strong propensity to add some new relation to them1 in order to complete the union4 ,in our arrangement of bodies1 we never fail to place such as are resembling in contiguity to each other1 or1 at least1 in correspondent points of view3 why8 but because we feel a satisfaction in joining the relation of contiguity to that of resemblance1 or the resemblance of situation to that of qualities4 ,the effects of this propensity have been already observed#aj in that resemblance1 which we so readily suppose betwixt particular impressions and their external causes4 ,but we shall not find a more evident effect of it than in the present instance1 where1 from the relations of causation and contiguity in time betwixt two objects1 we feign likewise that of a conjunction in place1 in order to strengthen the connexion4 ,but whatever confused notions we may form of an union in place betwixt an extended body1 as a fig1 and its particular taste1 'tis certain that1 upon reflection1 we must observe in this union something altogether unintelligible and contradictory4 ,for1 should we ask ourselves one obvious question1 viz4 if the taste1 which we conceive to be contained in the circumference of the body1 is in every part of it1 or in one only1 we must quickly find ourselves at a loss1 and perceive the impossibility of ever giving a satisfactory answer4 ,we cannot reply that 'tis only in one part3 for experience convinces us that every part has the same relish4 ,we can as little reply that it exists in every part3 for then we must suppose it figured and extended2 which is absurd and incomprehensible4 ,here1 then1 we are influenced by two principles1 directly contrary to each other1 viz4 that inclination of our fancy by which we are determined to incorporate the taste with the extended object1 and our reason1 which shows us the impossibility of such an union4 ,being divided betwixt these opposite principles1 we renounce neither one nor the other1 but involve the subject in such confusion and obscurity1 that we no longer perceive the opposition4 ,we suppose that the taste exists within the circumference of the body1 but in such a manner1 that it fills the whole without extension1 and exists entire in every part without separation4 ,in short1 we use1 in our most familiar way of thinking1 that scholastic principle which1 when crudely proposed1 appears so shocking1 of totum in toto1 et totum in qualibet parte2 which is much the same as if we should say1 that a thing is in a certain place1 and yet is not there4 ,all this absurdity proceeds from our endeavouring to bestow a place on what is utterly incapable of it2 and that endeavour again arises from our inclination to complete an union which is founded on causation and a contiguity of time1 by attributing to the objects a conjunction in place4 ,but if ever reason be of sufficient force to overcome prejudice1 'tis certain that1 in the present case1 it must prevail4 ,for we have only this choice left1 either to suppose that some beings exist without any place1 or that they are figured and extended2 or that when they are incorporated with extended objects1 the whole is in the whole1 and the whole in every part4 ,the absurdity of the two last suppositions proves sufficiently the veracity of the first4 ,nor is there any fourth opinion3 ,for as to the supposition of their existence in the manner of mathematical points1 it resolves itself into the second opinion1 and supposes1 that several passions may be placed in a circular figure1 and that a certain number of smells1 conjoined with a certain number of sounds1 may make a body of twelve cubic inches2 which appears ridiculous upon the bare mentioning of it4 ,but though in this view of things we cannot refuse to condemn1 the materialists1 who conjoin all thought with extension2 yet a little reflection will show us equal reason for blaming their antagonists1 who conjoin all thought with a simple and indivisible substance4 ,the most vulgar philosophy informs us1 that no external object can make itself known to the mind immediately1 and without the interposition of an image or perception4 ,that table1 which just now appears to me1 is only a perception1 and all its qualities are qualities of a perception4 ,now1 the most obvious of all its qualities is extension4 ,the perception consists of parts4 ,these parts are so situated as to afford us the notion of distance and contiguity1 of length1 breadth and thickness4 ,the termination of these three dimensions is what we call figure4 ,this figure is moveable1 separable1 and divisible4 ,mobility and separability are the distinguishing properties of extended objects4 ,and to cut short all disputes1 the very idea of extension is copied from nothing but an impression1 and consequently must perfectly agree to it4 ,to say the idea of extension agrees to any thing1 is to say it is extended4 ,the freethinker may now triumph in his turn2 and having found there are impressions and ideas really extended1 may ask his antagonists1 how they can incorporate a simple and indivisible subject with an extended perception8 ,all the arguments of theologians may here be retorted upon them4 ,is the indivisible subject or immaterial substance1 if you will1 on the left or on the right hand of the perception8 ,is it in this particular part1 or in that other8 ,is it in every part without being extended8 ,or is it entire in any one part without deserting the rest8 ',tis impossible to give any answer to these questions but what will both be absurd in itself1 and will account for the union of our indivisible perceptions with an extended substance4 ,this gives me an occasion to take anew into consideration the question concerning the substance of the soul2 and though ,i have condemned that question as utterly unintelligible1 yet ,i cannot forbear proposing some farther reflections concerning it4 ,i assert1 that the doctrine of 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 ,from this topic ,i hope at least to reap one advantage1 that my adversaries will not have any pretext to render the present doctrine odious by their declamations when they see that they can be so easily retorted on them4 ,the fundamental principle of the atheism of ,spinoza is the doctrine of the simplicity of the universe1 and the unity of that substance in which he supposes both thought and matter to inhere4 ,there is only one substance1 says he1 in the world1 and that substance is perfectly simple and indivisible1 and exists every where without any local presence4 ,whatever we discover externally by sensation1 whatever we feel internally by reflection1 all these are nothing but modifications of that one simple and necessarily existent being1 and are not possessed of any separate or distinct existence4 ,every passion of the soul1 every configuration of matter however different and various1 inhere in the same substance1 and preserve in themselves their characters of distinction1 without communicating them to that subject in which they inhere4 ,the same substratum1 if ,i may so speak1 supports the most different modifications without any difference in itself1 and varies them without any variation4 ,neither time1 nor place1 nor all the diversity of nature are able to produce any composition or change in its perfect simplicity and identity4 ,i believe this brief exposition of the principles of that famous atheist will be sufficient for the present purpose1 and that without entering farther into these gloomy and obscure regions1 ,i shall be able to show1 that this hideous hypothesis is almost the same with that of the immateriality of the soul1 which has become so popular4 ,to make this evident1 let us remember1#aa that as every idea is derived from a preceding perception1 'tis impossible our idea of a perception1 and that of an object or external existence1 can ever represent what are specifically different from each other4 ,whatever difference we may suppose betwixt them1 'tis still incomprehensible to us2 and we are obliged1 either to conceive an external object merely as a relation without a relative1 or to make it the very same with a perception or impression4 ,the consequence ,i shall draw from this may1 at first sight1 appear a mere sophism2 but upon the least examination will be found solid and satisfactory4 ,i say then1 that since we may suppose1 but never can conceive1 a specific difference betwixt an object and impression1 any conclusion we form concerning the connexion and repugnance of impressions1 will not be known certainly to be applicable to objects2 but that1 on the other hand1 whatever conclusions of this kind we form concerning objects1 will most certainly be applicable to impressions4 ,the reason is not difficult4 ,as an object is supposed to be different from an impression1 we cannot be sure1 that the circumstance1 upon which we found our reasoning1 is common to both1 supposing we form the reasoning upon the impression4 ',tis still possible1 that the object may differ from it in that particular4 ,but when we first form our reasoning concerning the object1 'tis beyond doubt1 that the same reasoning must extend to the impression3 and that because the quality of the object1 upon which the argument is founded1 must at least be conceived by the mind1 and could not be conceived1 unless it were common to an impression2 since we have no idea but what is derived from that origin4 ,thus we may establish it as a certain maxim1 that we can never1 by any principle1 but by an irregular kind of reasoning from experience1#ab discover a connexion or repugnance betwixt objects1 which extends not to impressions2 though the inverse proposition may not be equally true1 that all the discoverable relations of impressions are common to objects4 ,to apply this to the present case2 there are two different systems of beings presented1 to which ,i suppose myself under a necessity of assigning some substance1 or ground of inhesion4 ,i observe first the universe of objects or of body3 the sun1 moon1 and stars2 the earth1 seas1 plants1 animals1 men1 ships1 houses1 and other productions either of art or nature4 ,here ,spinoza appears1 and tells me1 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 ,there ,i observe another sun1 moon1 and stars2 an earth1 and seas1 covered and inhabited by plants and animals2 towns1 houses1 mountains1 rivers2 and in short every thing ,i can discover or conceive in the first system4 ,upon my inquiring concerning these1 theologians present themselves1 and tell me1 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 ,we have no idea of any quality in an object1 which does not agree to1 and may not represent a quality in an impression2 and that because all our ideas are derived from our impressions4 ,we can never therefore find any repugnance betwixt an extended object as a modification1 and a simple uncompounded essence1 as its substance2 unless that repugnance takes place equally betwixt the perception or impression of that extended object1 and the same uncompounded essence4 ,every idea of a quality in an object passes through an impression2 and therefore every perceivable relation1 whether of connexion or repugnance1 must be common both to objects and impressions4 ,but though this argument1 considered in general1 seems evident beyond all doubt and contradiction1 yet to make it more clear and sensible1 let us survey it in detail2 and see whether all the absurdities1 which have been found in the system of ,spinoza1 may not likewise be discovered in that of theologians4#ac ,first1 it has been said against ,spinoza1 according to the scholastic way of talking1 rather than thinking1 that a mode1 not being any distinct or separate existence1 must be the very same with its substance1 and consequently the extension of the universe must be in a manner identified with that simple1 uncompounded essence in which the universe is supposed to inhere4 ,but this1 it may be pretended1 is utterly impossible and inconceivable unless the indivisible substance expand itself1 so as to correspond to the extension1 or the extension contract itself1 so as to answer to the indivisible substance4 ,this argument seems just1 as far as we can understand it2 and 'tis plain nothing is required1 but a change in the terms1 to apply the same argument to our extended perceptions1 and the simple essence of the soul2 the ideas of objects and perceptions being in every respect the same1 only attended with the supposition of a difference1 that is unknown and incomprehensible4 ,secondly1 it has been said1 that we have no idea of substance1 which is not applicable to matter2 nor any idea of a distinct substance1 which is not applicable to every distinct portion of matter4 ,matter therefore is not a mode but a substance1 and each part of matter is not a distinct mode1 but a distinct substance4 ,i have already proved1 that we have no perfect idea of substance2 but that taking it for something that can exist by itself1 'tis evident every perception is a substance1 and every distinct part of a perception a distinct substance3 and consequently the one hypothesis labours under the same difficulties in this respect with the other4 ,thirdly1 it has been objected to the system of one simple substance in the universe1 that this substance1 being the support or substratum of every thing1 must at the very same instant be modified into forms1 which are contrary and incompatible4 ,the round and square figures are incompatible in the same substance at the same time4 ,how then is it possible1 that the same substance can at once be modified into that square table1 and into this round one8 ,i ask the same question concerning the impressions of these tables2 and find that the answer is no more satisfactory in one case than in the other4 ,it appears1 then1 that to whatever side we turn1 the same difficulties follow us1 and that we cannot advance one step towards the establishing the simplicity and immateriality of the soul1 without preparing the way for a dangerous and irrecoverable atheism4 ',tis the same case1 if1 instead of calling thought a modification of the soul1 we should give it the more ancient1 and yet more modish name of an action4 ,by an action we mean much the same thing as what is commonly called an abstract mode2 that is1 something which1 properly speaking1 is neither distinguishable1 nor separable from its substance1 and is only conceived by a distinction of reason1 or an abstraction4 ,but nothing is gained by this change of the term of modification for that of action2 nor do we free ourselves from one single difficulty by its means1 as will appear from the two following reflections3 ,first1 ,i observe1 that the word action1 according to this explication of it1 can never justly be applied to any perception1 as derived from a mind or thinking substance4 ,our perceptions are all really different1 and separable1 and distinguishable from each other1 and from every thing else which we can imagine2 and therefore1 'tis impossible to conceive how they can be the action or abstract mode of any substance4 ,the instance of motion1 which is commonly made use of to show after what manner perception depends as an action upon its substance1 rather confounds than instructs us4 ,motion1 to all appearance1 induces no real nor essential change on the body1 but only varies its relation to other objects4 ,but1 betwixt a person in the morning walking in a garden1 with company agreeable to him2 and a person in the afternoon enclosed in a dungeon1 and full of terror1 despair and resentment1 there seems to be a radical difference1 and of quite another kind1 than what is produced on a body by the change of its situation4 ,as we conclude from the distinction and separability of their ideas1 that external objects have a separate existence from each other2 so1 when we make these ideas themselves our objects1 we must draw the same conclusion concerning them1 according to the precedent reasoning4 ,at least1 it must be confessed1 that having no idea of the substance of the soul1 'tis impossible for us to tell how it can admit of such differences1 and even contrarieties of perception1 without any fundamental change2 and1 consequently1 can never tell in what sense perceptions are actions of that substance4 ,the use1 therefore1 of the word action1 unaccompanied with any meaning1 instead of that of modification1 makes no addition to our knowledge1 nor is of any advantage to the doctrine of the immateriality of the soul4 ,i add1 in the second place1 that if it brings any advantage to that cause1 it must bring an equal to the cause of atheism4 ,for1 do our theologians pretend to make a monopoly of the word action1 and may not the atheists likewise take possession of it1 and affirm that other plants1 animals1 men1 c41 are nothing but particular actions of one simple universal substance1 which exerts itself from a blind and absolute necessity8 ,this you'll say1 is utterly absurd4 ,i own 'tis unintelligible2 but1 at the same time assert1 according to the principles above explained1 that 'tis impossible to discover any absurdity in the supposition1 that all the various objects in nature are actions of one simple substance1 which absurdity will not be applicable to a like supposition concerning impressions and ideas4 ,from these hypotheses concerning the substance and local conjunction of our perceptions1 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 imagine1 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 reflection3 that the shocking of two globular particles should become a sensation of pain1 and that the meeting of two 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 on what has been proved at large1 that we are never sensible of any connexion betwixt causes and effects1 and that 'tis only by our experience of their constant conjunction1 we can arrive at any knowledge of this relation4 ,now1 as all objects1 which are not contrary1 are susceptible of a constant conjunction1 and as no real objects are contrary2 ,i have inferred from these principles1#ad that to consider the matter a priori1 any thing may produce any thing1 and that we shall never discover a reason1 why any object may or may not be the cause of any other1 however great1 or however little the resemblance may be betwixt them4 ,this evidently destroys the precedent reasoning concerning the cause of thought or perception4 ,for though there appear no manner of connexion betwixt motion or 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 another end2 you will never find in these bodies any principle of motion dependent on their distances 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 thought2 because1 turn it which way you will1 'tis nothing but a position of bodies2 you must1 by the same course of reasoning conclude1 that it can never produce motion2 since there is no more apparent connexion in the one case than in the other4 ,but 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 motion2 you reason too hastily1 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 perceive1 that the different dispositions of his body change his thoughts and sentiments4 ,and should it be said1 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 other1 and by experience1 that they are constantly united2 which being all the circumstances that enter into the idea of cause and effect1 when applied to the operations of matter1 we may certainly conclude1 that motion may be1 and actually is1 the cause of thought and perception4 ,there seems only this dilemma left us in the present case2 either to assert1 that nothing can be the cause of another1 but where the mind can perceive the connexion in its idea of the objects3 or to maintain1 that all objects which we find constantly conjoined1 are upon that account to be regarded as causes and effects4 ,if we choose the first part of the dilemma1 these are the consequences4 ,first1 we in reality affirm1 that there is no such thing in the universe as a cause or productive principle1 not even the ,deity himself2 since our idea of that ,supreme ,being is derived from particular impressions1 none of which contain any efficacy1 nor seem to have any connexion with any other existence4 ,as to what may be said1 that the connexion betwixt the idea of an infinitely powerful ,being and that of any effect1 which he wills1 is necessary and unavoidable2 ,i answer1 that we have no idea of a ,being endowed with any power1 much less of one endowed with infinite power4 ,but if we will change expressions1 we can only define power by connexion2 and then in saying1 that the idea of an infinitely powerful ,being is connected with that of every effect which he wills1 we really do no more than assert1 that a ,being1 whose volition is connected with every effect1 is connected with every effect2 which is an identical proposition1 and gives us no insight into the nature of this power or connexion4 ,but1 secondly1 supposing that the ,deity were the great and efficacious principle which supplies the deficiency of all causes1 this leads us into the grossest impieties and absurdities4 ,for upon the same account that we have recourse to him in natural operations1 and assert that matter cannot of itself communicate motion1 or produce thought1 viz4 because there is no apparent connexion betwixt these objects2 ,i say1 upon the very same account1 we must acknowledge that the ,deity is the author of all our volitions and perceptions2 since they have no more apparent connexion either with one another1 or with the supposed but unknown substance of the soul4 ,this agency of the ,supreme ,being we know to have been asserted by several philosophers#ae with relation to all the actions of the mind1 except volition1 or rather an inconsiderable part of volition2 though 'tis easy to perceive1 that this exception is a mere pretext1 to avoid the dangerous consequences of that doctrine4 ,if nothing be active but what has an apparent power1 thought is in no case any more active than matter2 and if this inactivity must make us have recourse to a ,deity1 the ,supreme ,being is the real cause of all our actions1 bad as well as good1 vicious as well as virtuous4 ,thus we are necessarily reduced to the other side of the dilemma1 viz4 that all objects1 which are found to be constantly conjoined1 are upon that account only to be regarded as causes and effects4 ,now1 as all objects which are not contrary1 are susceptible of a constant conjunction1 and as no real objects are contrary2 it follows1 that1 for ought we can determine by the mere ideas1 any thing may be the cause or effect of any thing2 which evidently gives the advantage to the materialists above their antagonists4 ,to pronounce1 then1 the final decision upon the whole3 the question concerning the substance of the soul is absolutely unintelligible3 all our perceptions are not susceptible of a local union1 either with what is extended or unextended2 there being some of them of the one kind1 and some of the other3 and as the constant conjunction of objects constitutes the very essence of cause and effect1 matter and motion may often be regarded as the causes of thought1 as far as we have any notion of that relation4 ',tis certainly a kind of indignity to philosophy1 whose sovereign authority ought every where to be acknowledged1 to oblige her on every occasion to make apologies for her conclusions1 and justify herself to every particular art and science1 which may be offended at her4 ,this puts one in mind of a king arraigned for high treason against his subjects4 ,there is only one occasion when philosophy will think it necessary and even honourable to justify herself2 and that is1 religion may seem to be in the least offended2 whose rights are as dear to her as her own1 and are indeed the same4 ,if any one1 therefore1 should imagine that the foregoing arguments are any ways dangerous to religion1 ,i hope the following apology will remove his apprehensions4 ,there is no foundation for any conclusion a priori1 either concerning the operations or duration of any object1 of which 'tis possible for the human mind to form a conception4 ,any object may be imagined to become entirely inactive1 or to be annihilated in a moment2 and 'tis an evident principle1 that whatever we can imagine is possible4 ,now this is no more true of matter1 than of spirit2 of an extended compounded substance1 than of a simple and unextended4 ,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 ,if my philosophy therefore makes no addition to the arguments for religion1 ,i have at least the satisfaction to think it takes nothing from them1 but that every thing remains precisely as before4 #i ,part ,i4 ,sect4 #e4 #aj ,sect #b1 towards the end4 #aa ,part4 ,,ii4 ,sect4 #f4 #ab ,such as that of ,sect4 #b1 from the coherence of our perceptions4 #ac ,see ,bayle's ,dictionary1 article of ,spinoza4 #ad ,part ,,iii4 sect4 #ae4 #ae ,as ,father ,malebranche and other ,cartesians4 ,,section ,,vi4 ,,of ,,personal ,,identity4 ,there are some philosophers1 who imagine we are every moment intimately conscious of what we call our self2 that we feel its existence and its continuance in existence2 and are certain1 beyond the evidence of a demonstration1 both of its perfect identity and simplicity4 ,the strongest sensation1 the most violent passion1 say they1 instead of distracting us from this view1 only fix it the more intensely1 and make us consider their influence on self either by their pain or pleasure4 ,to attempt a farther proof of this were to weaken its evidence2 since no proof can be derived from any fact of which we are so intimately conscious2 nor is there any thing1 of which we can be certain1 if we doubt of this4 ,unluckily all these positive assertions are contrary to that very experience which is pleaded for them2 nor have we any idea of self1 after the manner it is here explained4 ,for1 from what impression could this idea be derived8 ,this question 'tis impossible to answer without a manifest contradiction and absurdity2 and yet 'tis a question which must necessarily be answered1 if we would have the idea of self pass for clear and intelligible4 ,it must be some one impression that gives rise to every real idea4 ,but self or person is not any one impression1 but that to which our several impressions and ideas are supposed to have a reference4 ,if any impression gives rise to the idea of self1 that impression must continue invariably the same1 through the whole course of our lives2 since self is supposed to exist after that manner4 ,but there is no impression constant and invariable4 ,pain and pleasure1 grief and joy1 passions and sensations succeed each other1 and never all exist at the same time4 ,it cannot therefore be from any of these impressions1 or from any other1 that the idea of self is derived2 and consequently there is no such idea4 ,but farther1 what must become of all our particular perceptions upon this hypothesis8 ,all these are different1 and distinguishable1 and separable from each other1 and may be separately considered1 and may exist separately1 and have no need of any thing to support their existence4 ,after what manner therefore do they belong to self1 and how are they connected with it8 ,for my part1 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 any thing but the perception4 ,when my perceptions are removed for any time1 as by sound sleep1 so long am ,i insensible of myself1 and may truly be said not to exist4 ,and were all my perceptions removed by death1 and could ,i 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 farther 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 may1 perhaps1 perceive something simple and continued1 which he calls himself2 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 each other with an inconceivable rapidity1 and are in a perpetual flux and movement4 ,our eyes cannot turn in their sockets without varying our perceptions4 ,our thought is still more variable than our sight2 and all our other senses and faculties contribute to this change2 nor is there any single power of the soul1 which remains unalterably the same1 perhaps for one moment4 ,the mind is a kind of theatre1 where several perceptions successively make their appearance2 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 only1 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 us 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 betwixt personal identity1 as it regards our thought or imagination1 and as it regards our passions 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 identity1 which we attribute to plants and animals2 there being a great analogy betwixt it and the identity of a self or person4 ,we have a distinct idea of an object that remains invariable and uninterrupted through a supposed variation of time2 and this idea we call that of identity or sameness4 ,we have also a distinct idea of several different objects existing in succession1 and connected together by a close relation2 and this to an accurate view affords as perfect a notion of diversity1 as if there was no manner of relation among the objects4 ,but though these two ideas of identity1 and a succession of related objects1 be in themselves perfectly distinct1 and even contrary1 yet 'tis certain that1 in our common way of thinking1 they are generally confounded with each other4 ,that action of the imagination1 by which we consider the uninterrupted and invariable object1 and that by which we reflect on the succession of related objects1 are almost the same to the feeling2 nor is there much more effort of thought required in the latter case than in the former4 ,the relation facilitates the transition of the mind from one object to another1 and renders its passage as smooth as if it contemplated one continued object4 ,this resemblance is the cause of the confusion and mistake1 and makes us substitute the notion of identity1 instead of that of related objects4 ,however at one instant we may consider the related succession as variable or interrupted1 we are sure the next to ascribe to it a perfect identity1 and regard it as invariable and uninterrupted4 ,our propensity to this mistake is so great from the resemblance above mentioned1 that we fall into it before we are aware2 and though we incessantly correct ourselves by reflection1 and return to a more accurate method of thinking1 yet we cannot long sustain our philosophy1 or take off this bias from the imagination4 ,our last resource is to yield to it1 and boldly assert that these different related objects are in effect the same1 however interrupted and variable4 ,in order to justify to ourselves this absurdity1 we often feign some new and unintelligible principle1 that connects the objects together1 and prevents their interruption or variation4 ,thus1 we feign the continued existence of the perceptions of our senses1 to remove the interruption2 and run into the notion of a soul1 and self1 and substance1 to disguise the variation4 ,but1 we may farther observe1 that where we do not give rise to such a fiction1 our propension to confound identity with relation is so great1 that we are apt to imagine something unknown and mysterious1#af connecting the parts1 beside their relation2 and this ,i take to be the case with regard to the identity we ascribe to plants and vegetables4 ,and even when this does not take place1 we still feel a propensity to confound these ideas1 though we are not able fully to satisfy ourselves in that particular1 nor find any thing invariable and uninterrupted to justify our notion of identity4 ,thus1 the controversy concerning identity is not merely a dispute of words4 ,for1 when we attribute identity1 in an improper sense1 to variable or interrupted objects1 our mistake is not confined to the expression1 but is commonly attended with a fiction1 either of something invariable and uninterrupted1 or of something mysterious and inexplicable1 or at least with a propensity to such fictions4 ,what will suffice to prove this hypothesis to the satisfaction of every fair inquirer1 is to show1 from daily experience and observation1 that the objects which are variable or interrupted1 and yet are supposed to continue the same1 are such only as consist of a succession of parts1 connected together by resemblance1 contiguity1 or causation4 ,for as such a succession answers evidently to our notion of diversity1 it can only be by mistake we ascribe to it an identity2 and as the relation of parts1 which leads us into this mistake1 is really nothing but a quality1 which produces an association of ideas1 and an easy transition of the imagination from one to another1 it can only be from the resemblance1 which this act of the mind bears to that by which we contemplate one continued object1 that the error arises4 ,our chief business1 then1 must be to prove1 that all objects1 to which we ascribe identity1 without observing their invariableness and uninterruptedness1 are such as consist of a succession of related objects4 ,in order to this1 suppose any mass of matter1 of which the parts are contiguous and connected1 to be placed before us2 'tis plain we must attribute a perfect identity to this mass1 provided all the parts continue uninterruptedly and invariably the same1 whatever motion or change of place we may observe either in the whole or in any of the parts4 ,but supposing some very small or inconsiderable part to be added to the mass1 or subtracted from it2 though this absolutely destroys the identity of the whole1 strictly speaking1 yet as we seldom think so accurately1 we scruple not to pronounce a mass of matter the same1 where we find so trivial an alteration4 ,the passage of the thought from the object before the change to the object after it1 is so smooth and easy1 that we scarce perceive the transition1 and are apt to imagine1 that 'tis nothing but a continued survey of the same object4 ,there is a very remarkable circumstance that attends this experiment2 which is1 that though the change of any considerable part in a mass of matter destroys the identity of the whole1 yet we must measure the greatness of the part1 not absolutely1 but by its proportion to the whole4 ,the addition or diminution of a mountain would not be sufficient to produce a diversity in a planet2 though the change of a very few inches would be able to destroy the identity of some bodies4 ',twill be impossible to account for this1 but by reflecting that objects operate upon the mind1 and break or interrupt the continuity of its actions1 not according to their real greatness1 but according to their proportion to each other2 and therefore1 since this interruption makes an object cease to appear the same1 it must be the uninterrupted progress of the thought which constitutes the imperfect identity4 ,this may be confirmed by another phenomenon4 ,a change in any considerable part of a body destroys its identity2 but 'tis remarkable1 that where the change is produced gradually and insensibly1 we are less apt to ascribe to it the same effect4 ,the reason can plainly be no other1 than that the mind1 in following the successive changes of the body1 feels an easy passage from the surveying its condition in one moment1 to the viewing of it in another1 and in no particular time perceives any interruption in its actions4 ,from which continued perception1 it ascribes a continued existence and identity to the object4 ,but whatever precaution we may use in introducing the changes gradually1 and making them proportionable to the whole1 'tis certain1 that where the changes are at last observed to become considerable1 we make a scruple of ascribing identity to such different objects4 ,there is1 however1 another artifice1 by which we may induce the imagination to advance a step farther2 and that is1 by producing a reference of the parts to each other1 and a combination to some common end or purpose4 ,a ship1 of which a considerable part has been changed by frequent reparations1 is still considered as the same2 nor does the difference of the materials hinder us from ascribing an identity to it4 ,the common end1 in which the parts conspire1 is the same under all their variations1 and affords an easy transition of the imagination from one situation of the body to another4 ,but this is still more remarkable1 when we add a sympathy of parts to their common end1 and suppose that they bear to each other the reciprocal relation of cause and effect in all their actions and operations4 ,this is the case with all animals and vegetables2 where not only the several parts have a reference to some general purpose1 but also a mutual dependence on1 and connexion with1 each other4 ,the effect of so strong a relation is1 that though every one must allow1 that in a very few years both vegetables and animals endure a total change1 yet we still attribute identity to them1 while their form1 size and substance1 are entirely altered4 ,an oak that grows from a small plant to a large tree is still the same oak1 though there be not one particle of matter or figure of its parts the same4 ,an infant becomes a man1 and is sometimes fat1 sometimes lean1 without any change in his identity4 ,we may also consider the two following phenomena1 which are remarkable in their kind4 ,the first is1 that though we commonly be able to distinguish pretty exactly betwixt numerical and specific identity1 yet it sometimes happens that we confound them1 and in our thinking and reasoning employ the one for the other4 ,thus1 a man who hears a noise that is frequently interrupted and renewed1 says it is still the same noise1 though 'tis evident the sounds have only a specific identity or resemblance1 and there is nothing numerically the same but the cause which produced them4 ,in like manner it may be said1 without breach of the propriety of language1 that such a church1 which was formerly of brick1 fell to ruin1 and that the parish rebuilt the same church of freestone1 and according to modern architecture4 ,here neither the form nor materials are the same1 nor is there any thing common to the two objects but their relation to the inhabitants of the parish2 and yet this alone is sufficient to make us denominate them the same4 ,but we must observe1 that in these cases the first object is in a manner annihilated before the second comes into existence2 by which means1 we are never presented1 in any one point of time1 with the idea of difference and multiplicity2 and for that reason are less scrupulous in calling them the same4 ,secondly1 we may remark1 that though1 in a succession of related objects1 it be in a manner requisite that the change of parts be not sudden nor entire1 in order to preserve the identity1 yet where the objects are in their nature changeable and inconstant1 we admit of a more sudden transition than would otherwise be consistent with that relation4 ,thus1 as the nature of a river consists in the motion and change of parts1 though in less than four-and-twenty hours these be totally altered1 this hinders not the river from continuing the same during several ages4 ,what is natural and essential to any thing is1 in a manner1 expected2 and what is expected makes less impression1 and appears of less moment than what is unusual and extraordinary4 ,a considerable change of the former kind seems really less to the imagination than the most trivial alteration of the latter2 and by breaking less the continuity of the thought1 has less influence in destroying the identity4 ,we now proceed to explain the nature of personal identity1 which has become so great a question in philosophy1 especially of late years1 in ,england1 where all the abstruser sciences are studied with a peculiar ardour and application4 ,and here 'tis evident the same method of reasoning must be continued which has so successfully explained the identity of plants1 and animals1 and ships1 and houses1 and of all the compounded and changeable productions either of art or nature4 ,the identity which we ascribe to the mind of man is only a fictitious one1 and of a like kind with that which we ascribe to vegetables and animal bodies4 ,it cannot therefore have a different origin1 but must proceed from a like operation of the imagination upon like objects4 ,but lest this argument should not convince the reader1 though in my opinion perfectly decisive1 let him weigh the following reasoning1 which is still closer and more immediate4 ',tis evident that the identity which we attribute to the human mind1 however perfect we may imagine it to be1 is not able to run the several different perceptions into one1 and make them lose their characters of distinction and difference1 which are essential to them4 ',tis still true that every distinct perception which enters into the composition of the mind1 is a distinct existence1 and is different1 and distinguishable1 and separable from every other perception1 either contemporary or successive4 ,but as1 notwithstanding this distinction and separability1 we suppose the whole train of perceptions to be united by identity1 a question naturally arises concerning this relation of identity1 whether it be something that really binds our several perceptions together1 or only associates their ideas in the imagination2 that is1 in other words1 whether1 in pronouncing concerning the identity of a person1 we observe some real bond among his perceptions1 or only feel one among the ideas we form of them4 ,this question we might easily decide1 if we would recollect what has been already proved at large1 that the understanding never observes any real connexion among objects1 and that even the union of cause and effect1 when strictly examined1 resolves itself into a customary association of ideas4 ,for from thence it evidently follows1 that identity is nothing really belonging to these different perceptions1 and uniting them together1 but is merely a quality which we attribute to them1 because of the union of their ideas in the imagination when we reflect upon them4 ,now1 the only qualities which can give ideas an union in the imagination1 are these three relations above mentioned4 ,these are the uniting principles in the ideal world1 and without them every distinct object is separable by the mind1 and may be separately considered1 and appears not to have any more connexion with any other object than if disjoined by the greatest difference and remoteness4 ',tis therefore on some of these three relations of resemblance1 contiguity and causation1 that identity depends2 and as the very essence of these relations consists in their producing an easy transition of ideas1 it follows1 that our notions of personal identity proceed entirely from the smooth and uninterrupted progress of the thought along a train of connected ideas1 according to the principles above explained4 ,the only question1 therefore1 which remains is1 by what relations this uninterrupted progress of our thought is produced1 when we consider the successive existence of a mind or thinking person4 ,and here 'tis evident we must confine ourselves to resemblance and causation1 and must drop contiguity1 which has little or no influence in the present case4 ,to begin with resemblance2 suppose we could see clearly into the breast of another1 and observe that succession of perceptions which constitutes his mind or thinking principle1 and suppose that he always preserves the memory of a considerable part of past perceptions1 'tis evident that nothing could more contribute to the bestowing a relation on this succession amidst all its variations4 ,for what is the memory but a faculty1 by which we raise up the images of past perceptions8 ,and as an image necessarily resembles its object1 must not the frequent placing of these resembling perceptions in the chain of thought1 convey the imagination more easily from one link to another1 and make the whole seem like the continuance of one object8 ,in this particular1 then1 the memory not only discovers the identity1 but also contributes to its production1 by producing the relation of resemblance among the perceptions4 ,the case is the same1 whether we consider ourselves or others4 ,as to causation2 we may observe1 that the true idea of the human mind1 is to consider it as a system of different perceptions or different existences1 which are linked together by the relation of cause and effect1 and mutually produce1 destroy1 influence1 and modify each other4 ,our impressions give rise to their correspondent ideas2 and these ideas1 in their turn1 produce other impressions4 ,one thought chases another1 and draws after it a third1 by which it is expelled in its turn4 ,in this respect1 ,i cannot compare the soul more properly to any thing than to 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 ,and 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 memory1 we never should have any notion of causation1 nor consequently of that chain of causes and effects1 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 persons 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 there1 of which we have any memory8 ,who can tell me1 for instance1 what were his thoughts and actions on the first of ,january #agae1 the eleventh of ,march #agai1 and the third of ,august #agcc8 ,or will he affirm1 because he has entirely forgot the incidents of these days1 that the present self is not the same person with the self of that time2 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 conclusion1 which is of great importance in the present affair1 viz4 that all the nice and subtile 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 ideas2 and these relations produce identity1 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 mind1 may be extended with little or no variation 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 indivisible1 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 ,thus we have finished our examination of the several systems of philosophy1 both of the intellectual and moral world2 and1 in our miscellaneous way of reasoning1 have been led into several topics1 which will either illustrate and confirm some preceding part of this discourse1 or prepare the way for our following opinions4 ',tis now time to return to a more close examination of our subject1 and to proceed in the accurate anatomy of human nature1 having fully explained the nature of our judgment and understanding4 #af ,if the reader is desirous to see how a great genius may be influenced by these seemingly trivial principles of the imagination1 as well as the mere vulgar1 let him read my ,lord ,shaftsbury's reasonings concerning the uniting principle of the universe1 and the identity of plants and animals4 ,see his ,moralists1 or ,philosophical ,rhapsody4 ,,section ,,vii4 ,,conclusion ,,of ,,this ,,book4 ,but before ,i launch out into those immense depths of philosophy which lie before me1 ,i find myself inclined to stop a moment in my present station1 and to ponder that voyage which ,i have undertaken1 and which undoubtedly requires the utmost art and industry to be brought to a happy conclusion4 ,methinks ,i am like a man1 who1 having struck on many shoals1 and having narrowly escaped shipwreck in passing a small frith1 has yet the temerity to put out to sea in the same leaky weather-beaten vessel1 and even carries his ambition so far as to think of compassing the globe under these disadvantageous circumstances4 ,my memory of past errors and perplexities makes me diffident for the future4 ,the wretched condition1 weakness1 and disorder of the faculties1 ,i must employ in my inquiries1 increase my apprehensions4 ,and the impossibility of amending or correcting these faculties1 reduces me almost to despair1 and makes me resolve to perish on the barren rock1 on which ,i am at present1 rather than venture myself upon that boundless ocean which runs out into immensity4 ,this sudden view of my danger strikes me with melancholy2 and1 as 'tis usual for that passion1 above all others1 to indulge itself1 ,i cannot forbear feeding my despair with all those desponding reflections which the present subject furnishes me with in such abundance4 ,i am first affrighted and confounded with that forlorn solitude in which ,i am placed in my philosophy1 and fancy myself some strange uncouth monster1 who1 not being able to mingle and unite in society1 has been expelled all human commerce1 and left utterly abandoned and disconsolate4 ,fain would ,i run into the crowd for shelter and warmth1 but cannot prevail with myself to mix with such deformity4 ,i call upon others to join me1 in order to make a company apart1 but no one will hearken to me4 ,every one keeps at a distance1 and dreads that storm which beats upon me from every side4 ,i have exposed myself to the enmity of all metaphysicians1 logicians1 mathematicians1 and even theologians2 and can ,i wonder at the insults ,i must suffer8 ,i have declared my disapprobation of their systems2 and can ,i be surprised if they should express a hatred of mine and of my person8 ,when ,i look abroad1 ,i foresee on every side dispute1 contradiction1 anger1 calumny and detraction4 ,when ,i turn my eye inward1 ,i find nothing but doubt and ignorance4 ,all the world conspires to oppose and contradict me2 though such is my weakness1 that ,i feel all my opinions loosen and fall of themselves1 when unsupported by the approbation of others4 ,every step ,i take is with hesitation1 and every new reflection makes me dread an error and absurdity in my reasoning4 ,for with what confidence can ,i venture upon such bold enterprises1 when1 beside those numberless infirmities peculiar to myself1 ,i find so many which are common to human nature8 ,can ,i be sure that1 in leaving all established opinions1 ,i am following truth8 and by what criterion shall ,i distinguish her1 even if fortune should at last guide me on her footsteps8 ,after the most accurate and exact of my reasonings1 ,i can give no reason why ,i should assent to it1 and feel nothing but a strong propensity to consider objects strongly in that view under which they appear to me4 ,experience is a principle which instructs me in the several conjunctions of objects for the past4 ,habit is another principle which determines me to expect the same for the future2 and both of them conspiring to operate upon the imagination1 make me form certain ideas in a more intense and lively manner than others which are not attended with the same advantages4 ,without this quality1 by which the mind enlivens some ideas beyond others 7which seemingly is so trivial1 and so little founded on reason71 we could never assent to any argument1 nor carry our view beyond those few objects which are present to our senses4 ,nay1 even to these objects we could never attribute any existence but what was dependent on the senses1 and must comprehend them entirely in that succession of perceptions which constitutes our self or person4 ,nay1 farther1 even with relation to that succession1 we could only admit of those perceptions which are immediately present to our consciousness2 nor could those lively images1 with which the memory presents us1 be ever received as true pictures of past perceptions4 ,the memory1 senses1 and understanding are therefore all of them founded on the imagination1 or the vivacity of our ideas4 ,no wonder a principle so inconstant and fallacious should lead us into errors when implicitly followed 7as it must be7 in all its variations4 ',tis this principle which makes us reason from causes and effects2 and 'tis the same principle which convinces us of the continued existence of external objects when absent from the senses4 ,but though these two operations be equally natural and necessary in the human mind1 yet in some circumstances they are directly contrary2#ag nor is it possible for us to reason justly and regularly from causes and effects1 and at the same time believe the continued existence of matter4 ,how then shall we adjust those principles together8 ,which of them shall we prefer8 ,or in case we prefer neither of them1 but successively assent to both1 as is usual among philosophers1 with what confidence can we afterwards usurp that glorious title1 when we thus knowingly embrace a manifest contradiction8 ,this contradiction#ah would be more excusable were it compensated by any degree of solidity and satisfaction in the other parts of our reasoning4 ,but the case is quite contrary4 ,when we trace up the human understanding to its first principles1 we find it to lead us into such sentiments as seem to turn into ridicule all our past pains and industry1 and to discourage us from future inquiries4 ,nothing is more curiously inquired after by the mind of man than the causes of every phenomenon2 nor are we content with knowing the immediate causes1 but push on our inquiries till we arrive at the original and ultimate principle4 ,we would not willingly stop before we are acquainted with that energy in the cause by which it operates on its effect2 that tie1 which connects them together2 and that efficacious quality on which the tie depends4 ,this is our aim in all our studies and reflections3 and how must we be disappointed when we learn that this connexion1 tie1 or energy lies merely in ourselves1 and is nothing but that determination of the mind which is acquired by custom1 and causes us to make a transition from an object to its usual attendant1 and from the impression of one to the lively idea of the other8 ,such a discovery not only cuts off all hope of ever attaining satisfaction1 but even prevents our very wishes2 since it appears1 that when we say we desire to know the ultimate and operating principle as something which resides in the external object1 we either contradict ourselves1 or talk without a meaning4 ,this deficiency in our ideas is not indeed perceived in common life1 nor are we sensible that1 in the most usual conjunctions of cause and effect1 we are as ignorant of the ultimate principle which binds them together1 as in the most unusual and extraordinary4 ,but this proceeds merely from an illusion of the imagination2 and the question is1 how far we ought to yield to these illusions4 ,this question is very difficult1 and reduces us to a very dangerous dilemma1 whichever way we answer it4 ,for if we assent to every trivial suggestion of the fancy1 beside that these suggestions are often contrary to each other1 they lead us into such errors1 absurdities1 and obscurities1 that we must at last become ashamed of our credulity4 ,nothing is more dangerous to reason than the flights of the imagination1 and nothing has been the occasion of more mistakes among philosophers4 ,men of bright fancies may in this respect be compared to those angels1 whom the ,scripture represents as covering their eyes with their wings4 ,this has already appeared in so many instances1 that we may spare ourselves the trouble of enlarging upon it any farther4 ,but1 on the other hand1 if the consideration of these instances makes us take a resolution to reject all the trivial suggestions of the fancy1 and adhere to the understanding1 that is1 to the general and more established properties of the imagination2 even this resolution1 if steadily executed1 would be dangerous1 and attended with the most fatal consequences4 ,for ,i have already shown1#ai that the understanding1 when it acts alone1 and according to its most general principles1 entirely subverts itself1 and leaves not the lowest degree of evidence in any proposition1 either in philosophy or common life4 ,we save ourselves from this total scepticism only by means of that singular and seemingly trivial property of the fancy1 by which we enter with difficulty into remote views of things1 and are not able to accompany them with so sensible an impression1 as we do those which are more easy and natural4 ,shall we1 then1 establish it for a general maxim1 that no refined or elaborate reasoning is ever to be received8 ,consider well the consequences of such a principle4 ,by this means you cut off entirely all science and philosophy3 you proceed upon one singular quality of the imagination1 and by a parity of reason must embrace all of them3 and you expressly contradict yourself2 since this maxim must be built on the preceding reasoning1 which will be allowed to be sufficiently refined and metaphysical4 ,what party1 then1 shall we choose among these difficulties8 ,if we embrace this principle1 and condemn all refined reasoning1 we run into the most manifest absurdities4 ,if we reject it in favour of these reasonings1 we subvert entirely the human understanding4 ,we have therefore no choice left1 but betwixt a false reason and none at all4 ,for my part1 ,i know not what ought to be done in the present case4 ,i can only observe what is commonly done2 which is1 that this difficulty is seldom or never thought of2 and even where it has once been present to the mind1 is quickly forgot1 and leaves but a small impression behind it4 ,very refined reflections have little or no influence upon us2 and yet we do not1 and cannot establish it for a rule1 that they ought not to have any influence2 which implies a manifest contradiction4 ,but what have ,i here said1 that reflections very refined and metaphysical have little or no influence upon us8 ,this opinion ,i can scarce forbear retracting1 and condemning from my present feeling and experience4 ,the intense view of these manifold contradictions and imperfections in human reason has so wrought upon me1 and heated my brain1 that ,i am ready to reject all belief and reasoning1 and can look upon no opinion even as more probable or likely than another4 ,where am ,i1 or what8 ,from what causes do ,i derive my existence1 and to what condition shall ,i return8 ,whose favour shall ,i court1 and whose anger must ,i dread8 ,what beings surround me8 and on whom have ,i any influence1 or who have any influence on me8 ,i am confounded with all these questions1 and begin to fancy myself in the most deplorable condition imaginable1 environed with the deepest darkness1 and utterly deprived of the use of every member and faculty4 ,most fortunately it happens1 that since reason is incapable of dispelling these clouds1 ,nature herself suffices to that purpose1 and cures me of this philosophical melancholy and delirium1 either by relaxing this bent of mind1 or by some avocation1 and lively impression of my senses1 which obliterate all these chimeras4 ,i dine1 ,i play a game of backgammon1 ,i converse1 and am merry with my friends2 and when1 after three or four hours' amusement1 ,i would return to these speculations1 they appear so cold1 and strained1 and ridiculous1 that ,i cannot find in my heart to enter into them any farther4 ,here1 then1 ,i find myself absolutely and necessarily determined to live1 and talk1 and act like other people in the common affairs of life4 ,but notwithstanding that my natural propensity1 and the course of my animal spirits and passions reduce me to this indolent belief in the general maxims of the world1 ,i still feel such remains of my former disposition1 that ,i am ready to throw all my books and papers into the fire1 and resolve never more to renounce the pleasures of life for the sake of reasoning and philosophy4 ,for those are my sentiments in that splenetic humour which governs me at present4 ,i may1 nay ,i must yield to the current of nature1 in submitting to my senses and understanding2 and in this blind submission ,i show most perfectly my sceptical disposition and principles4 ,but does it follow that ,i must strive against the current of nature1 which leads me to indolence and pleasure2 that ,i must seclude myself1 in some measure1 from the commerce and society of men1 which is so agreeable2 and that ,i must torture my brain with subtilties and sophistries1 at the very time that ,i cannot satisfy myself concerning the reasonableness of so painful an application1 nor have any tolerable prospect of arriving by its means at truth and certainty8 ,under what obligation do ,i lie of making such an abuse of time8 ,and to what end can it serve1 either for the service of mankind1 or for my own private interest8 ,no3 if ,i must be a fool1 as all those who reason or believe any thing certainly are1 my follies shall at least be natural and agreeable4 ,where ,i strive against my inclination1 ,i shall have a good reason for my resistance2 and will no more be led a wandering into such dreary solitudes1 and rough passages1 as ,i have hitherto met with4 ,these are the sentiments of my spleen and indolence2 and indeed ,i must confess1 that philosophy has nothing to oppose to them1 and expects a victory more from the returns of a serious good-humoured disposition1 than from the force of reason and conviction4 ,in all the incidents of life1 we ought still to preserve our scepticism4 ,if we believe that fire warms1 or water refreshes1 'tis only because it costs us too much pains to think otherwise4 ,nay1 if we are philosophers1 it ought only to be upon sceptical principles1 and from an inclination which we feel to the employing ourselves after that manner4 ,where reason is lively1 and mixes itself with some propensity1 it ought to be assented to4 ,where it does not1 it never can have any title to operate upon us4 ,at the time1 therefore1 that ,i am tired with amusement and company1 and have indulged a reverie in my chamber1 or in a solitary walk by a river side1 ,i feel my mind all collected within itself1 and am naturally inclined to carry my view into all those subjects1 about which ,i have met with so many disputes in the course of my reading and conversation4 ,i cannot forbear having a curiosity to be acquainted with the principles of moral good and evil1 the nature and foundation of government1 and the cause of those several passions and inclinations which actuate and govern me4 ,i am uneasy to think ,i approve of one object1 and disapprove of another2 call one thing beautiful1 and another deformed2 decide concerning truth and falsehood1 reason and folly1 without knowing upon what principles ,i proceed4 ,i am concerned for the condition of the learned world1 which lies under such a deplorable ignorance in all these particulars4 ,i feel an ambition to arise in me of contributing to the instruction of mankind1 and of acquiring a name by my inventions and discoveries4 ,these sentiments spring up naturally in my present disposition2 and should ,i endeavour to banish them1 by attaching myself to any other business or diversion1 ,i feel ,i should be a loser in point of pleasure2 and this is the origin of my philosophy4 ,but even suppose this curiosity and ambition should not transport me into speculations without the sphere of common life1 it would necessarily happen1 that from my very weakness ,i must be led into such inquiries4 ',tis certain that superstition is much more bold in its systems and hypotheses than philosophy2 and while the latter contents itself with assigning new causes and principles to the phenomena which appear in the visible world1 the former opens a world of its own1 and presents us with scenes1 and beings1 and objects1 which are altogether new4 ,since1 therefore1 'tis almost impossible for the mind of man to rest1 like those of beasts1 in that narrow circle of objects1 which are the subject of daily conversation and action1 we ought only to deliberate concerning the choice of our guide1 and ought to prefer that which is safest and most agreeable4 ,and in this respect ,i make bold to recommend philosophy1 and shall not scruple to give it the preference to superstition of every kind or denomination4 ,for as superstition arises naturally and easily from the popular opinions of mankind1 it seizes more strongly on the mind1 and is often able to disturb us in the conduct of our lives and actions4 ,philosophy1 on the contrary1 if just1 can present us only with mild and moderate sentiments2 and if false and extravagant1 its opinions are merely the objects of a cold and general speculation1 and seldom go so far as to interrupt the course of our natural propensities4 ,the ,cynics are an extraordinary instance of philosophers1 who1 from reasonings purely philosophical1 ran into as great extravagancies of conduct as any monk or dervise that ever was in the world4 ,generally speaking1 the errors in religion are dangerous2 those in philosophy only ridiculous4 ,i am sensible1 that these two cases of the strength and weakness of the mind will not comprehend all mankind1 and that there are in ,england1 in particular1 many honest gentlemen1 who1 being always employed in their domestic affairs1 or amusing themselves in common recreations1 have carried their thoughts very little beyond those objects1 which are every day exposed to their senses4 ,and indeed1 of such as these ,i pretend not to make philosophers1 nor do ,i expect them either to be associates in these researches1 or auditors of these discoveries4 ,they do well to keep themselves in their present situation2 and1 instead of refining them into philosophers1 ,i wish we could communicate to our founders of systems1 a share of this gross earthy mixture1 as an ingredient1 which they commonly stand much in need of1 and which would serve to temper those fiery particles1 of which they are composed4 ,while a warm imagination is allowed to enter into philosophy1 and hypotheses embraced merely for being specious and agreeable1 we can never have any steady principles1 nor any sentiments1 which will suit with common practice and experience4 ,but were these hypotheses once removed1 we might hope to establish a system or set of opinions1 which if not true 7for that1 perhaps1 is too much to be hoped for71 might at least be satisfactory to the human mind1 and might stand the test of the most critical examination4 ,nor should we despair of attaining this end1 because of the many chimerical systems1 which have successively arisen and decayed away among men1 would we consider the shortness of that period1 wherein these questions have been the subjects of inquiry and reasoning4 ,two thousand years with such long interruptions1 and under such mighty discouragements1 are a small space of time to give any tolerable perfection to the sciences2 and perhaps we are still in too early an age of the world to discover any principles1 which will bear the examination of the latest posterity4 ,for my part1 my only hope is1 that ,i may contribute a little to the advancement of knowledge1 by giving in some particulars a different turn to the speculations of philosophers1 and pointing out to them more distinctly those subjects1 where alone they can expect assurance and conviction4 ,human ,nature is the only science of man2 and yet has been hitherto the most neglected4 ',twill be sufficient for me1 if ,i can bring it a little more into fashion2 and the hope of this serves to compose my temper from that spleen1 and invigorate it from that indolence1 which sometimes prevail upon me4 ,if the reader finds himself in the same easy disposition1 let him follow me in my future speculations4 ,if not1 let him follow his inclination1 and wait the returns of application and good humour4 ,the conduct of a man who studies philosophy in this careless manner1 is more truly sceptical than that of one who1 feeling in himself an inclination to it1 is yet so overwhelmed with doubts and scruples1 as totally to reject it4 ,a true sceptic will be diffident of his philosophical doubts1 as well as of his philosophical conviction2 and will never refuse any innocent satisfaction which offers itself1 upon account of either of them4 ,nor is it only proper we should in general indulge our inclination in the most elaborate philosophical researches1 notwithstanding our sceptical principles1 but also that we should yield to that propensity1 which inclines us to be positive and certain in particular points1 according to the light in which we survey them in any particular instant4 ',tis easier to forbear all examination and inquiry1 than to check ourselves in so natural a propensity1 and guard against that assurance1 which always arises from an exact and full survey of an object4 ,on such an occasion we are apt not only to forget our scepticism1 but even our modesty too2 and make use of such terms as these1 'tis evident1 'tis certain1 'tis undeniable2 which a due deference to the public ought1 perhaps1 to prevent4 ,i may have fallen into this fault after the example of others2 but ,i here enter a caveat against any objections which may be offered on that head2 and declare that such expressions were extorted from me by the present view of the object1 and imply no dogmatical spirit1 nor conceited idea of my own judgment1 which are sentiments that ,i am sensible can become nobody1 and a sceptic still less than any other4 #ag ,sect4 #d4 #ah ,part ,,iii4 ,sect4 #ad4 #ai ,section #a4 ,,end ,,of ,,volume ,,first4