PHILOSOPHICAL ESSAYS CONCERNING Human Underſtanding.
By the AUTHOR of the ESSAYS MORAL and POLITICAL.
LONDON: Printed for A. MILLAR, oppoſite Katharine-Street, in the Strand. MDCCXLVIII.
MORAL Philoſophy, or the Science of hu⯑man Nature, may be treated after two different Manners; each of which has its peculiar Merit, and may contribute to the Entertainment, Inſtruction, and Reformation of Man⯑kind. The one conſiders Man chiefly as born for Action; and as influenc'd in his Actions by Taſte and Sentiment; purſuing one Object and avoiding an⯑other, according to the Value, which theſe Objects ſeem to poſſeſs, and according to the Light, in which they preſent themſelves. Virtue, of all Objects, is the moſt valuable and lovely; and accordingly this Species of Philoſophers paint her in the moſt amiable Colours, borrowing all Helps from Poetry and Elo⯑quence, and treating their Subject in an eaſy and ob⯑vious Manner, ſuch as is beſt fitted to pleaſe the Ima⯑gination, and engage the Affections. They ſelect the [2] moſt ſtriking Obſervations and Inſtances from com⯑mon Life; place oppoſite Characters in a proper Con⯑traſt; and alluring us into the Paths of Virtue, by the Views of Glory and of Happineſs, direct our Steps into theſe Paths, by the ſoundeſt Precepts and moſt illuſtrious Examples. They make us feel the Diffe⯑rence betwixt Vice and Virtue; they excite and regu⯑late our Sentiments; and ſo they can but bend our Hearts to the Love of Probity and true Honour, they think, that they have fully attain'd the End of all their Labours.
THE other Species of Philoſophers treat Man ra⯑ther as a reaſonable than an active Being, and endea⯑vour to form his Underſtanding more than cultivate his Manners. They regard Mankind as a Subject of Speculation; and with a narrow Scrutiny examine human Nature, in order to find thoſe Principles, which regulate our Underſtandings, excite our Senti⯑ments, and make us approve or blame any particular Object, Action, or Behaviour. They think it a Re⯑proach to all Literature, that Philoſophy ſhould not yet have fixt, beyond Controverſy, the Foundation of Morals, Reaſoning, and Criticiſm; and ſhould for ever talk of Truth and Falſhood, Vice and Virtue, Beauty and Deformity, without being able to deter⯑mine the Source of theſe Diſtinctions. While they attempt this arduous Taſk, they are deter'd by no [3] Difficulties; but proceeding from particular Inſtances to general Principles, they ſtill puſh on their Enqui⯑ries to Principles more general, and reſt not ſatisfy'd till they arrive at thoſe original Principles, by which, in every Science, all human Curioſity muſt be bound⯑ed. Tho' their Speculations ſeem abſtract and even unintelligible to common Readers, they pleaſe them⯑ſelves with the Approbation of the Learned and the Wiſe; and think they are ſufficiently compenſated for the Labours of their whole Lives, if they can diſ⯑cover ſome hidden Truths which may contribute to the Inſtruction of Poſterity.
'TIS certain, that the eaſy and obvious Philoſophy will always, with the Generality of Mankind, have the Preference to the accurate and abſtruſe; and by many will be recommended, not only as more agree⯑able, but more uſeful than the other. It enters more into common Life; moulds the Heart and Affec⯑tions; and by touching thoſe Principles, which actu⯑ate Men, reforms their Conduct, and brings them nearer that Model of Perfection, which it deſcribes. On the contrary, the abſtruſe Philoſophy, being founded on a Turn of Mind that cannot enter into Buſineſs and Action, vaniſhes when the Philoſopher leaves the Shade and comes into open Day; nor can its Precepts and Principles eaſily retain any Influence over our Con⯑duct and Behaviour. The Feelings of our Sentiments, [4] the Agitation of our Paſſions, the Vehemence of our Affections, diſſipate all its Concluſions, and reduce the profound Philoſopher to a mere Plebeian.
THIS alſo muſt be confeſt, that the moſt durable, as well as juſteſt Fame has been acquired by the eaſy Philoſophy, and that abſtract Reaſoners ſeem hitherto to have enjoy'd only a momentary Reputation, from the Caprice or Ignorance of their own Age, but have not been able to ſupport their Renown with more equitable Poſterity. 'Tis eaſy for a profound Philo⯑ſopher to commit a Miſtake in his ſubtile Reaſonings; and one Miſtake is the neceſſary Parent of another, while he puſhes on his Conſequences, and is not de⯑ter'd from embracing any Concluſion, by its unuſual Appearance, or its Contradiction to popular Opinion: But a Philoſopher, who propoſes only to repreſent the common Senſe of Mankind in more beautiful and more engaging Colours, if by Accident he commits a Miſtake, goes no farther; but renewing his Appeal to common Senſe, and the natural Sentiments of the Mind, returns into the right Path, and ſecures him⯑ſelf from any dangerous Illuſions. The Fame of Ci⯑cero flouriſhes at preſent; but that of Ariſtotle is ut⯑terly decay'd. La Bruyere paſſes the Seas, and ſtill encreaſes in Renown: But the Glory of Malebranche is confin'd to his own Nation and to his own Age. [5] And Addiſon, perhaps, will be read with Pleaſure, when Locke ſhall be entirely forgotten*.
THE mere Philoſopher is a Character, which is commonly but little acceptable in the World, as be⯑ing ſuppos'd to contribute nothing either to the Ad⯑vantage or Pleaſure of Society; while he lives re⯑mote from Communication with Mankind, and is wrapt up in Principles and Notions equally remote from their Comprehenſion. On the other hand, the mere Ignorant is ſtill more deſpis'd; nor is any thing eſteem'd a ſurer Sign of an illiberal Genius, in an Age and Nation where the Sciences flouriſh, than to be en⯑tirely void of all Taſte and Reliſh for thoſe noble En⯑tertainments. The moſt perfect Character is ſuppos'd to lie betwixt thoſe Extremes; retaining an equal A⯑bility and Taſte for Books, Company, and Buſineſs; preſerving in Converſation that Diſcernment and De⯑licacy, which ariſe from polite Letters, and in Buſi⯑neſs, that Probity and Accuracy, which are the natu⯑ral Reſult of a juſt Philoſophy. In order to diffuſe and cultivate ſo accompliſht a Character, nothing can be more uſeful than Compoſitions of the eaſy Style and Manner, which draw not too much from Life, re⯑quire [6] no deep Application or Receſs to be compre⯑hended, and ſend back the Student among Mankind fall of noble Sentiments and wiſe Precepts, applicable to every Emergence of human Life. By means of ſuch Compoſitions, Virtue becomes amiable, Science agreeable, Company inſtructive, and Retirement en⯑tertaining.
MAN is a reaſonable Being; and as ſuch, receives from Science his proper Food and Nouriſhment: But ſo narrow are the Bounds of human Underſtanding, that little Satisfaction can be hop'd for, in this Par⯑ticular, either from the Extent or Security of his Ac⯑quiſitions. Man is a ſociable, no leſs than a reaſona⯑nable Being: But neither can he always enjoy Com⯑pany agreeable and amuſing, or preſerve the proper Reliſh of them. Man is alſo an active Being; and from that Diſpoſition, as well as from the various Neceſſities of human Life, muſt ſubmit to Buſineſs and Occupation: But the Mind requires ſome Relaxation, and cannot always ſupport its Bent to Care and Induſ⯑try. It ſeems, then, that Nature has pointed out a mixt kind of Life as moſt ſuitable to human Race, and ſecretly admoniſh'd them to allow none of theſe By⯑aſſes to draw too much, ſo as to incapacitate them for other Occupations and Entertainments. Indulge your Paſſion for Science, ſays ſhe; but let your Science be human, and ſuch as may have a direct Reference to [7] Action and Society. Abſtruſe Thought and profound Reſearches I prohibit, and will ſeverely puniſh, by the penſive Melancholy, which they introduce, by the endleſs Uncertainty, in which they involve you, and by the cold Reception, which your pretended Diſcoveries will meet with, when communicated. Be a Philoſopher; but amidſt all your Philoſophy, be ſtill a Man.
WERE the Generality of Mankind contented to prefer the eaſy Philoſophy to the abſtract and profound, without throwing any Blame or Contempt on the lat⯑ter, it might not be improper, perhaps, to comply with this general Opinion, and allow every Man to enjoy, without Oppoſition, his own Taſte and Senti⯑ment. But as the Matter is often carry'd farther, even to the abſolute rejecting all profound Reaſonings or what is commonly call'd Metaphyſics, we ſhall now proceed to conſider what can reaſonably be pleaded in their Behalf.
WE may begin with obſerving, that one conſide⯑rable Advantage, which reſults from the accurate and abſtract Philoſophy, is, its Subſerviency to the eaſy and humane, which, without the former, can never attain a ſufficient Degree of Exactneſs, in its Senti⯑ments, Precepts, or Reaſonings. All polite Letters are nothing but Pictures of human Life in various At⯑titades [8] and Situations; and inſpire us with different Sentiments of Praiſe or Blame, Admiration or Ridi⯑cale, according to the Qualities of the Object, which they ſet before us. An Artiſt muſt be better qualify'd to ſacceed in this Undertaking, who, beſides a deli⯑cate Taſte and a quick Apprehenſion, poſſeſſes an accu⯑rate Knowledge of the internal Fabric, the Opera⯑tions of the Underſtanding, the Workings of the Paſ⯑ſions, and the various Species of Sentiments, which diſcriminate Vice and Virtue. However painful this inward Search or Enquiry may appear, it becomes, in ſome meaſure, requiſite to thoſe, who would de⯑ſcribe with Succeſs the obvious and outward Appear⯑ances of Life and Manners. The Anatomiſt preſents to the Eye the moſt hideous and diſagreeable Objects; but his Science is highly uſeful to the Painter in de⯑lineating even a Venus or an Helen. While the latter employs all the richeſt Colours of his Art, and gives his Figures the moſt graceful and engaging Airs; he muſt ſtill carry his Attention to the inward Structure of the human Body, the Poſition of the Muſcles, the Fa⯑bric of the Bones, and the Uſe and Figure of every Part or Organ. Accuracy is, in every Caſe, advan⯑tageous to Beauty, and juſt Reaſoning to delicate Sen⯑timents. In vain would we exalt the one, by depre⯑ciating the other.
[9] BESIDES, we may obſerve, in every Art or Pro⯑feſſion, even thoſe which moſt concern Life or Action, that a Spirit of Accuracy, however acquir'd, carries all of them nearer their Perfection, and renders them more ſubſervient to the Intereſts of Society. And tho' a Philoſopher may live remote from Buſineſs and Employment, the Genius of Philoſophy, if carefully cultivated by ſeveral, muſt gradually diffuſe itſelf thro' the whole Society, and beſtow a ſimilar Accuracy on every Art and Calling. The Politician will acquire greater Foreſight and Subtilty, in the ſubdividing and ballancing of Power; the Lawyer more Method and finer Principles in his Reaſonings; and the General more Regularity in his Diſcipline, and more Caution in his Plans and Operations. The Stability of mo⯑dern Governments above the antient, and the Accu⯑racy of modern Philoſophy, have improv'd and pro⯑bably will ſtill improve, by ſimilar Gradations.
WERE there no Advantage to be reap'd from theſe Studies beyond the Gratification of an innocent Cu⯑rioſity, yet ought not even this to be deſpis'd; as being one Acceſſion to thoſe few ſafe and harmleſs Plea⯑ſures, which are beſtow'd on human Race. The ſweet⯑eſt and moſt inoffenſive Path of Life leads thro' the Avenues of Science and Learning; and whoever can either remove any Obſtructions in this Way, or open up any new Proſpect, ought ſo far to be [10] eſteem'd a Benefactor to Mankind. And tho' theſe Reſearches may appear painful and fatiguing; 'tis with ſome Minds as with ſome Bodies, which, being endow'd with vigorous and florid Health, require ſe⯑vere Exerciſe, and reap a Pleaſure from what, to the Generality of Mankind, may ſeem burthenſome and laborious. Obſcurity, indeed, is painful to the Mind as well as to the Eye; but to bring Light from Ob⯑ſcurity, by whatever Labour, muſt needs be delight⯑ful and rejoicing.
BUT this Obſcurity, in the profound and abſtract Philoſophy, is objected to, not only as painful and diſagreeable, but as the inevitable Source of Uncer⯑tainty and Error. Here indeed lie the juſteſt and moſt plaufible Objection againſt a conſiderable Part of Metaphyſics, that they are not properly a Science, but ariſe either from the fruitleſs Efforts of human Va⯑nity, which would penetrate into Subjects utterly in⯑acceſſible to the Underſtanding, or from the Craft of popular Superſtitions, which, being unable to de⯑fend themſelves on fair Ground, raiſe theſe entangling Brambles to cover and protect their Weakneſs. Chac'd from the open Country, theſe Robbers fly into the Foreſt, and lie in wait to break in upon every un⯑guarded Avenue of the Mind, and over-whelm it with religious Fears and Prejudices. The ſlouteſt Antago⯑niſt, if he remits his Watch a Moment, is oppreſt: [11] And many, thro' Cowardice and Folly, open the Gates to the Enemies, and willingly receive them with Reverence and Submiſſion, as their legal Sove⯑reigns.
BUT is this a juſt Cauſe why Philoſophers ſhould deſiſt from ſuch Reſearches, and leave Superſtition ſtill in Poſſeſſion of her Retreat? Is it not reaſonable to draw a direct contrary Concluſion, and perceive the Neceſſity of carrying the War into the moſt ſecret Receſſes of the Enemy? In vain do we hope, that Men, from frequent Diſappointments, will at laſt a⯑bandon ſuch airy Sciences, and diſcover the proper Province of human Reaſon. For beſides, that many Perſons find too ſenſible an Intereſt in perpetually re⯑calling ſuch Topics; beſides this, I ſay, the Motive of blind Deſpair can never reaſonably have place in the Sciences; ſince, however unſucceſsful former At⯑tempts may have prov'd, there is ſtill room to hope, that the Induſtry, Good-fortune, or improv'd Saga⯑city of ſucceeding Generations may reach Diſcoveries unknown to former Ages. Each adventurous Genius will ſtill leap at the arduous Prize, and find himſelf ſtimulated, rather than diſcourag'd, by the Failures of his Predeceſſors; while he hopes, that the Glory of atchieving ſo hard an Adventure is reſerv'd for him alone. The only Method of freeing Learning, at⯑once, from theſe abſtruſe Queſtions, is to enquire ſe⯑riouſly [12] into the Nature of human Underſtanding, and ſhew, from an exact Analyſis of its Powers and Ca⯑pacity, that it is, by no means, fitted for ſuch remote and abſtruſe Subjects. We muſt ſubmit to this Fa⯑tigue, in order to live at Eaſe ever after: And muſt cultivate true Metaphyſics with ſome Care, in order to deſtroy the falſe and adulterate. Indolence, which, to ſome Perſons, affords a Safeguard againſt this de⯑ceitful Philoſophy, is, with others, over-ballanc'd by Curioſity; and Deſpair, which, at ſome Moments, prevails, may give place afterwards to ſanguine Hopes and Expectations. Accurate and juſt Reaſoning is the only catholic Remedy, fitted for all Perſons and all Diſpoſitions, and is alone able to ſubvert that abſtruſe Philoſophy and metaphyſical Jargon, which, being mixt up with popular Superſtition, renders it, in a manner, impenetrable to careleſs Reaſoners, and gives it the Air of Science and Wiſdom.
BESIDE this Advantage of rejecting, after deliberate Enquiry, the moſt uncertain and diſagreeable Part of Learning, there are many poſitive Advantages, which reſult from an accurate Scrutiny into the Powers and Fa⯑culties of human Nature. 'Tis remarkable concerning the Operations of the Mind, that tho' moſt intimately preſent to us, yet whenever they become the Object of Reflection, they ſeem involv'd in Obſcurity, nor can the Eye readily find thoſe Lines and Boundaries, which diſcriminate and diſtinguiſh them. The Objects are [13] too fine to remain long in the ſame Aſpect or Situa⯑tion; and muſt be apprehended, in an Inſtant, by a ſuperior Subtilty and Penetration, deriv'd from Nature, and improv'd by Habit and Reflection. It becomes, therefore, no inconſiderable Part of Science barely to know the different Operations of the Mind, to ſepa⯑rate them from each other, to claſs them under their proper Diviſions, and to correct all that ſeeming Diſ⯑order, in which they lie involv'd, when made the Ob⯑ject of Reflection and Enquiry. This Taſk of order⯑ing and diſtinguiſhing, which has no Merit, when per⯑form'd with regard to external Bodies, the Objects of our Senſes, riſes in its Value, when directed towards the Operations of the Mind, in proportion to the Dif⯑ficulty and Labour, which we meet with in perform⯑ing it. And if we can go no farther than this mental Geography or Delineation of the diſtinct Parts and Powers of the Mind, 'tis at leaſt a Satisfaction to go ſo far; and the more contemptible this Science may ap⯑pear (and it is by no means contemptible) the more contemptible ſtill muſt the Ignorance of it appear, in all Pretenders to Learning and Philoſophy.
NOR can there remain any Suſpicion, that this Sci⯑ence is uncertain and chimerical; unleſs we ſhould en⯑tertain ſuch a Scepticiſm, as is entirely ſubverſive of all Speculation, and even Action. It cannot be doubt⯑ed, that the Mind is endow'd with ſeveral Powers and [14] Faculties, that theſe Powers are totally diſtinct from each other, that what is really diſtinct to the imme⯑diate Perception may be diſtinguiſh'd by Reflection; and conſequently, that there is a Truth and Falſhood in all Propoſitions on this Subject, and a Truth and Falſhood, which lies not beyond the Compaſs of hu⯑man Underſtanding. There are many obvious Di⯑ſtinctions of this kind, ſuch as thoſe betwixt the Will and Underſtanding, the Imagination and Paſſions, which fall within the Comprehenſion of every human Creature; and the finer and more philoſophical Di⯑ſtinctions are no leſs real and certain, tho' more diffi⯑cult to be comprehended. Some Inſtances, eſpecially late ones, of Succeſs in theſe Enquiries, may give us a juſter Notion of the Certainty and Solidity of this Branch of Learning. And ſhall we eſteem it worthy the Labour of a Philoſopher to give us a true Syſtem of the Planets, and adjuſt the Poſition and Order of thoſe remote Bodies; while we affect to overlook thoſe, who, with ſo much Succeſs, delineate and deſcribe the Parts of the Mind, in which we are ſo intimately concern'd*?
[15] BUT may we not hope, that Philoſophy, if culti⯑vated with Care, and encourag'd by the Attention of the Public, may carry its Reſearches ſtill farther, and diſcover, at leaſt in ſome degree, the ſecret Springs and Principles, by which the human Mind is actu⯑ated in its Operations? Aſtronomers had long con⯑tented themſelves with proving, from the Phaeno⯑mena, [16] the true Motions, Order, and Magnitude of the heavenly Bodies: Till a Philoſopher, at laſt, aroſe, who ſeems, from the happieſt Reaſoning, to have alſo determin'd the Laws and Forces, by which their Re⯑volutions are govern'd and directed. The like has been perform'd with regard to other Parts of Nature. And there is no Reaſon to deſpair of equal Succeſs in our Enquiries concerning the mental Powers and Oe⯑conomy, if proſecuted with equal Capacity and Cau⯑tion. 'Tis probable, that one Operation and Prin⯑ciple of the Mind depends on another; which, again, may be reſolv'd into one more general and univerſal: And how far theſe Reſearches may poſſibly be carry'd, 'twill be difficult for us, before, or even after, a care⯑ful [17] Tryal, exactly to determine. This is certain, that Attempts of this Kind are every day made even by thoſe, who philoſophize the moſt negligently; and nothing can be more requiſite than to enter upon the Enterprize with thorough Care and Attention; that, if it lie within the Compaſs of human Under⯑ſtanding, it may at laſt be happily atchiev'd; if not, it may, however, be rejected with ſome Confidence and Security. This laſt Concluſion, ſurely, is not deſirable, nor ought it to be embrac'd too raſhly. For how much muſt we diminiſh from the Beauty and Va⯑lue of this Species of Philoſophy, upon ſuch a Suppo⯑ſition? Moraliſts have hitherto been accuſtom'd, when they conſider'd the vaſt Multitude and Diverſity of Actions, that excite our Approbation or Diſlike, to ſearch for ſome common Principle, on which this Va⯑riety of Sentiments might depend. And tho' they have ſometimes carry'd the Matter too far, by their Paſſion for ſome one general Principle; it muſt, how⯑ever, be confeſt, that they are excuſable, in expect⯑ing to find ſome general Principles, into which all the Vices and Virtues were juſtly to be reſolv'd. The like has been the Endeavour of Critics, Logicians, and even Politicians: Nor have their Attempts been alto⯑gether unſucceſsful; tho' perhaps longer Time, greater Accuracy, and more ardent Application may bring theſe Sciences ſtill nearer their Perfection. To throw up at once all Pretenſions of this Kind may be juſtly [18] eſteem'd more raſh, precipitate, and dogmatical, than even the boldeſt and moſt affirmative Philoſophy, which has ever attempted to impoſe its crude Dictates and Principles on Mankind.
WHAT tho' thoſe Reaſonings concerning human Nature ſeem abſtract, and of difficult Comprehenſion? This affords no Preſumption of their Falſhood. On the contrary, it ſeems impoſſible, that what has hi⯑therto eſcap'd ſo many wiſe and profound Philoſo⯑phers can be very obvious and eaſy. And whatever Pains theſe Reſearches may coſt us, we may think ourſelves ſufficiently rewarded, not only in point of Profit but of Pleaſure, if, by that means, we can make any Addition to our Stock of Knowledge, in Subjects of ſuch unſpeakable Importance.
BUT as, after all, the Abſtractedneſs of theſe Spe⯑culations is no Recommendation, but rather a Diſad⯑vantage to them, and as this Difficulty may perhaps be ſurmounted by Care and Art, and the avoiding all unneceſſary Detail, we have, in the following Eſſays, attempted to throw ſome Light upon Subjects, from which Uncertainty has hitherto deter'd the Wiſe, and Obſcurity the Ignorant. Happy, if we can unite the Boundaries of the different Species of Philoſophy, by reconciling profound Enquiry, with Clearneſs, and [19] Truth with Novelty! And ſtill more happy, if, rea⯑ſoning in this eaſy Manner, we can undermine the Foundations of an abſtruſe Philoſophy, which ſeems to have ſerv'd hitherto only as a Shelter to Superſti⯑tion and a Cover to Abſurdity and Error!
EVERY one will readily allow, that there is a conſiderable Difference betwixt the Perceptions of the Mind, when a Man feels the Pain of exceſſive Heat or the Pleaſure of moderate Warmth, and when he afterwards recalls to his Memory this Senſation, or anticipates it by his Imagination. Theſe Faculties may mimick or copy the Perceptions of the Senſes; but they never can reach entirely the Force and Vi⯑vacity of the original Sentiment. The utmoſt we ſay of them, even when they operate with greateſt Vigour, is, that they repreſent their Object in ſo lively a Man⯑ner, that we could almoſt ſay we feel or ſee it: But, except the Mind be diſorder'd by Diſeaſe or Madneſs, they never can arrive at ſuch a pitch of Vivacity as to render theſe Perceptions altogether undiſtinguiſhable. All the Colours of Poetry, however ſplendid, can ne⯑ver paint natural Objects in ſuch a manner as to make the Deſcription be taken for a real Landſkip. The [22] moſt lively Thought is ſtill inferior to the dulleſt Sen⯑ſation.
WE may obſerve a like Diſtinction to run thro' all the other Perceptions of the Mind. A Man, in a Fit of Anger, is actuated in a very different Manner from one, who only thinks of that Emotion. If you tell me, that any Perſon is in Love, I eaſily underſtand your Meaning, and form a juſt Conception of his Si⯑tuation; but never can miſtake that Conception for the real Diſorders and Agitations of the Paſſion. When we reflect on all our paſt Sentiments and Affec⯑tions, our Thought is a faithful Mirror, and copies its Objects truly; but the Colours it employs are faded and dead, in compariſon of thoſe, in which our origi⯑nal Perceptions were cloth'd. It requires no nice Diſcernment nor metaphyſical Head to mark the Di⯑ſtinction betwixt them.
HERE therefore we may divide all the Perceptions of the Mind into two Claſſes or Species, which are diſtinguiſh'd by their different Degrees of Force and Vivacity. The leſs forcible and lively are commonly denominated THOUGHTS or IDEAS. The other Spe⯑cies want a Name in our Language, and in moſt o⯑thers; I ſuppoſe, becauſe it was not requiſite for any, but philoſophical Purpoſes, to rank them under a ge⯑neral Term or Appellation. Let us, therefore, uſe a little Freedom, and call them IMPRESSIONS, employ⯑ing [23] that Word in a Senſe ſomewhat different from the uſual. By the Term, Impreſſions, then, we mean all our more lively Perceptions, when we hear, or ſee, or feel, or love, or hate, or deſire, or will. And Im⯑preſſions are contradiſtinguiſh'd from Ideas, which are the leſs lively Perceptions we are conſcious of, when we reflect on any of theſe Senſations or Movements above mention'd.
NOTHING, at firſt View, may ſeem more un⯑bounded than the Thought of Man, which not only eſcapes all human Power and Authority, but is not even reſtrain'd within the Limits of Nature and Re⯑ality. To form Monſters, and join incongruous Shapes and Appearances coſts it no more Trouble than to con⯑ceive the moſt natural and familiar Objects. And while the Body is confin'd to one Planet, along which it creeps with Pain and Difficulty; the Thought can in an Inſtant tranſport us into the moſt diſtant Regions of the Univerſe; or even beyond the Univerſe, into the unbounded Chaos, where Nature is ſuppos'd to lie in total Confuſion. What never was ſeen, nor heard of may yet be conceiv'd; nor is any thing beyond the Power of Thought, except what implies an abſo⯑late Contradiction.
BUT tho' Thought ſeems to poſſeſs this unbounded Liberty, we ſhall find, upon a nearer Examination, that it is really confin'd within very narrow Limits, [24] and that all this creative Power of the Mind amounts to no more than the compounding, tranſpoſing, aug⯑menting, or diminiſhing the Materials afforded us by the Senſes and Experience. When we think of a gol⯑den Mountain, we only join two conſiſtent Ideas, Gold, and Mountain, with which we were formerly acquainted. A virtuous Horſe we can conceive; be⯑cauſe, from our own Feeling, we can conceive Vir⯑tue, and this we may unite to the Figure and Shape of a Horſe, which is an Animal familiar to us. In ſhort all the Materials of thinking are deriv'd either from our outward or inward Sentiment: The Mixture and Compoſition of theſe belongs alone to the Mind and Will. Or to expreſs myſelf in more philoſophical Language, all our Ideas or more feeble Perceptions are Copies of our Impreſſions or more lively ones.
TO prove this, the two following Arguments will, I hope, be ſufficient. Firſt, When we analyſe our Thoughts or Ideas, however compounded or ſublime, we always find, that they reſolve themſelves into ſuch ſimple Ideas as were copy'd from a precedent Feeling or Sentiment. Even thoſe Ideas, which, at firſt View, ſeem the moſt wide of this Origin, are found, upon a narrower Scratiny, to be deriv'd from it. The Idea of God, as meaning an infinitely intelligent, wiſe, and good Being, ariſes from reflecting on the Opera⯑tions of our own Mind, and augmenting thoſe Quali⯑ties [25] of Goodneſs and Wiſdom, without Bound or Li⯑mit. We may proſecute this Enquiry to what Length we pleaſe; where we ſhall always find, that every Idea we examine is copy'd from a ſimilar Impreſſion. Thoſe, who would aſſert, that this Poſition is not ab⯑ſolutely univerſal and without Exception, have only one, and that an eaſy Method of reſuting it, by pro⯑ducing that Idea, which, in their Opinion, is not de⯑riv'd from this Source. It will then be incumbent on us, if we would maintain our Doctrine, to produce the Impreſſion or lively Perception, that correſponds to it.
SECONDLY. If it happen, from a Defect of the Organ, that a Man is not ſuſceptible of any Species of Senſations, we always find, that he is as little ſuſcep⯑tible of the correſpondent Ideas. A blind Man can form no Notion of Colours; a deaf Man of Sounds. Reſtore either of them that Senſe, in which he is de⯑ficient; by opening this new Inlet for his Senſations, you alſo open an Inlet for the Ideas, and he finds no Difficulty of conceiving theſe Objects. The Caſe is the ſame if the Object, proper for exciting any Senſa⯑tion, has never been apply'd to the Organ. A Lap⯑lander or Negro has no Notion of the Reliſh of Wine. And tho' there are few or no Inſtances of a like Defi⯑ciency in the Mind, where a Perſon has never felt or is altogether incapable of a Sentiment or Paſſion, that belongs to his Species; yet we find the ſame Obſerva⯑tion [26] to take place in a leſſer Degree. A Man of mild Manners can form no Notion of inveterate Revenge or Cruelty; nor can a ſelfiſh Heart eaſily conceive the Heights of Friendſhip and Generoſity. 'Tis readily allow'd, that other Beings may poſſeſs many Senſes, of which we can have no Conception; becauſe the Ideas of them have never been introduc'd to us in the only Manner, by which an Idea can have acceſs to the Mind, viz. by the actual Feeling and Senſation.
THERE is, however, one contradictory Phaenome⯑non, which may prove, that 'tis not abſolutely im⯑poſſible for Ideas to go before their correſpondent Im⯑preſſions. I believe it will readily be allow'd, that the ſeveral diſtinct Ideas of Colours, which enter by the Eyes, or thoſe of Sounds, which are convey'd by the Hearing, are really different from each other; tho', at the ſame time, reſembling. Now if this be true of different Colours, it muſt be no leſs ſo, of the different Shades of the ſame Colour; and each Shade produces a diſtinct Idea, independent of the reſt. For if this ſhould be deny'd, 'tis poſſible, by the continual Gradation of Shades, to run a Colour inſenſibly into what is moſt remote from it; and if you will not al⯑low any of the Means to be different, you cannot, without Abſurdity, deny the Extremes to be the ſame. Suppoſe, therefore, a Perſon to have enjoy'd his Sight for thirty Years, and to have become perfectly well [27] acquainted with Colours of all kinds, excepting one particular Shade of Blue, for Inſtance, which it never has been his fortune to meet with. Let all the diffe⯑rent Shades of that Colour, except that ſingle one, be plac'd before him, deſcending gradually from the deepeſt to the lighteſt; 'tis plain, that he will perceive a Blank, where that Shade is wanting, and will be ſen⯑ſible, that there is a greater Diſtance in that Place be⯑twixt the contiguous Colours than in any other. Now I aſk, whether 'tis poſſible for him, from his own Imagination, to ſupply this Deficiency, and raiſe up to himſelf the Idea of that particular Shade, tho' it had never been convey'd to him by his Senſes? I believe there are few but will be of Opinion that he can; and this may ſerve as a Proof, that the ſimple Ideas are not always, in every Inſtance, deriv'd from the correſpondent Impreſſions; tho' this Inſtance is ſo particular and ſingular, that 'tis ſcarce worth our ob⯑ſerving, and does not merit, that for it alone we ſhould alter our general Maxim.
HERE, therefore, is a Propoſition, which not only ſeems, in itſelf, ſimple and intelligible; but, if pro⯑perly employ'd, might render every Diſpute equally intelligible, and baniſh all that Jargon, which has ſo long taken poſſeſſion of metaphyſical Reaſonings, and drawn ſuch Diſgrace upon them: All Ideas, eſpecially abſtract ones, are naturally faint and obſcure: The Mind has but a ſlender Hold of them: They are apt [28] to be confounded with other reſembling Ideas: And when we have often employ'd any Term, tho' without a diſtinct Meaning, we are apt to imagine it has a de⯑terminate Idea, annex'd to it. On the contrary, all Impreſſions, that is, all Senſations, either outward or inward, are ſtrong and ſenſible: The Limits betwixt them are more exactly determin'd: Nor is it eaſy to fall into any Error or Miſtake with regard to them. When therefore we entertain any Suſpicion, that a philoſophical Term is employ'd without any Meaning or Idea (as is but too frequent) we need but enquire, from what Impreſſion is that ſuppos'd Idea deriv'd? And if it be impoſſible to aſſign any, this will ſerve to confirm our Suſpicion. By bringing Ideas into ſo clear a Light, we may reaſonably hope to remove all Diſpute, that may ariſe, concerning their Nature and Reality*.
[29]'TIS evident, that there is a Principle of Con⯑nexion betwixt the different Thoughts or I⯑deas of the Mind, and that in their Appearance to the Memory or Imagination, they introduce each other with a certain Degree of Method and Regularity. In our more ſerious Thinking or Diſcourſe, this is ſo ob⯑ſervable, that any particular Thought, which breaks in upon this regular Tract or Chain of Ideas, is im⯑mediately remark'd and rejected. And even in our wildeſt and moſt wandering Reveries, nay in our very Dreams, we ſhall find, if we reflect, that the Imagi⯑nation run not altogether at Adventures, but that there was ſtill a Connexion upheld among the different Ideas, which ſucceeded each other. Were the looſeſt and freeſt Converſation to be tranſcrib'd, there would immediately be obſerv'd ſomething, which connected it in all its Tranſitions. Or where this is wanting, the Perſon, who broke the Thread of Diſcourſe, might [32] ſtill inform you, that there had ſecretly revolv'd in his Mind a Succeſſion of Thought, which had gradually led him away from the Subject of Converſation. A⯑mongſt the Languages of different Nations, even where we cannot ſuſpect the leaſt Connexion or Communi⯑cation, 'tis found, that the Words, expreſſive of the moſt compound Ideas, do yet nearly correſpond to each other: A certain Proof, that the ſimple Ideas, which they expreſs, were bound together by ſome univerſal Principle, which had an equal Influence on all Mankind.
THO' it be too obvious to eſcape our Obſervation, that different Ideas are connected together; I do not find, that any Philoſopher has attempted to enumerate or claſs all the Principles of Connexion; a Subject, however, that ſeems very worthy of our Curioſity. To me, there appears to be only three Principles of Connexion among Ideas, viz. Reſemblance, Contiguity in Time or Place, and Cauſe or Effect.
THAT theſe Principles ſerve to connect Ideas will not, I believe, be much doubted. A Picture naturally leads our Thoughts to the Original*: The Mention of one Apartment in a Building naturally introduces an Enquiry or Diſcourſe concerning the others†: And if [33] we think of an Wound, we can ſcarce forbear reflecting on the Pain, which follows it§. But that this Enu⯑meration is compleat, and that there are no other Prin⯑ciples of Connexion, except theſe, may be difficult to prove to the Satisfaction of the Reader, or even to a Man's own Satisfaction. All we can do, in ſuch Caſes, is to run over ſeveral Inſtances, and examine carefully the Principle, that binds the different Thoughts to each other, never ſtoping till we ren⯑der the Principle as general as poſſible. The more inſtances we examine, and the more Care we employ, the more Aſſurance ſhall we acquire, that the Enu⯑meration which we form from the Whole, is com⯑pleat and entire. Inſtead of entering into a Detail of this kind, which would lead us into many uſeleſs Sub⯑tilities, we ſhall conſider ſome of the Effects of this Connexion upon the Paſſions and Imagination; where we may open up a Field of Speculation more en⯑tertaining, and perhaps more inſtructive, than the other.
AS Man is a reaſonable Being, and is continually in Purſuit of Happineſs, which he hopes to find in the Gratification of ſome Paſſion or Affection, he ſel⯑dom acts or ſpeaks or thinks without a Purpoſe and Intention. He has ſtill ſome Object in View; and however improper the Means may ſometimes be, [34] which he chuſes for the Attainment of his End, he ne⯑ver loſes View of an End, nor will he ſo much as throw away his Thoughts or Reflections, where he hopes not to reap any Satisfaction from them.
IN all Compoſitions of Genius, therefore, 'tis re⯑quiſite that the Writer have ſome Plan or Object; and tho he may be hurry'd from this Plan by the Ve⯑hemence of Thought, as in an Ode, or drop it care⯑leſly, as in an Epiſtle or Eſſay, there muſt appear ſome Aim or Intention, in his firſt ſetting out, if not in the Compoſition of the whole Work. A Produc⯑tion without a Deſign would reſemble more the Rav⯑ings of a Madman, than the ſober Efforts of Genius and Learning.
As this Rule admits of no Exception, it follows, that in narrative Compoſitions, the Events or Actions, which the Writer relates, muſt be connected together, by ſome Bond or Tye: They muſt be related to each other in the Imagination, and ſorm a kind of Unity, which may bring them under one Plan or View, and which may be the Object or End of the Writer in his firſt Undertaking.
THIS connecting Principle among the ſeveral E⯑vents, which form the Subject of a Poem or Hiſtory [35] may be very different, according to the different De⯑ſigns of the Poet or Hiſtorian. Ovid has ſorm'd his Plan upon the connecting Principle of Reſemblance. Every fabulous Transformation, produc'd by the mi⯑raculous Power of the Gods, falls within the Compaſs of his Work. There needs but this one Circumſtance in any Event to bring it under his original Plan or In⯑tention.
AN Annaliſt or Hiſtorian, who ſhould undertake to write the Hiſtory of Europe during any Century, would be influenc'd by the Connexion of Contiguity in Time or Place. All Events, which happen in that Portion of Space, and Period of Time, are compre⯑hended in his Deſign, tho' in other reſpects different and unconnected. They have ſtill a Species of Unity, amidſt all their Diverſity.
BUT the moſt uſual Species of Connexion among the different Events, which enter into any narrative Com⯑poſition, is that of Cauſe and Effect; while the Hi⯑ſtorian traces the Series of Actions according to their natural Order, remounts to their ſecret Springs and Principles, and delineates their moſt remote Conſe⯑quences. He chuſes for his Subject a certain Portion of that great Chain of Events, which compoſe the Hiſtory of Mankind: Each Link in this Chain he en⯑deavours to touch in his Narration: Sometimes, un⯑avoidable [36] Ignorance renders all his Attempts fruitleſs: Sometimes, he ſupplies by Conjecture what is want⯑ing in Knowledge: And always, he is ſenſible, that the more unbroken the Chain is, which he preſents to his Readers, the more perfect is his Production. He fees, that the Knowledge of Cauſes is not only the moſt ſatisfactory; this Relation or Connexion being the ſtrongeſt of all others; but alſo the moſt inſtruc⯑tive; ſince it is by this Knowledge alone, we are en⯑abled to controul Events, and govern Futurity.
HERE therefore we may attain ſome Notion of that Unity of Action, about which all Critics, after Ariſtotle, have talk'd ſo much: Perhaps, to little Purpoſe, while they directed not their Taſte or Sentiment by the Accuracy of Philoſophy. It appears, that in all Productions, as well as in the Epic and Tragic, the [...]e is a certain Unity requir'd, and that, on no Occaſion, our Thoughts can be allow'd to run at Adventures, if we would produce a Work, that will give any laſting Entertainment to Mankind. It appears alſo, that even a Biographer, who ſhould write the Life of Achilles, would connect the Events, by ſhewing their mutual Dependance and Relation, as much as a Poet, who ſhould make the Anger of that Hero, the Subject of his Narration*. Nor only in any limited Portion [37] of Life, a Man's Actions have a Dependance on each other, but alſo during the whole Period of his Dura⯑tion, from the Cradle to the Grave; nor is it poſſible to ſtrike off one Link, however minute, in this regu⯑lar Chain, without affecting the whole Series of E⯑vents, which follow. The Unity of Action, there⯑fore, which is to be found in Biography or Hiſtory, differs from that of Epic Poetry, not in Kind, but in Degree. In Epic Poetry, the Connexion among the Events is more cloſe and ſenſible: The Narration is not carry'd on thro' ſuch a Length of Time: And the Actors haſten to ſome remarkable Period, which ſatisfies the Curioſity of the Reader. This Conduct of the Epic Poet depends on that particular Situation of the Imagination and of the Paſſions, which is ſuppos'd in that Production. The Imagination, both of Writer and Reader, is more enliven'd, and the Paſſions more enflam'd than in Hiſtory, Biography, or any Species of Narration, that confine themſelves to ſtrict Truth and Reality. Let us conſider the Effect of theſe two Circumſtances, of an enliven'd Imagination and en⯑flam'd Paſſions, which belong to Poetry, eſpecially the Epic Kind, above any other Species of Compo⯑ſition; and let us ſee for what Reaſon they require a ſtricter and cloſer Unity in the Fable.
FIRST. All Poetry, being a Species of Painting, approches us nearer to the Objects than any other Species of Narration, throws a ſtronger Light upon [38] them, and delineates more diſtinctly thoſe minute Cir⯑cumſtances, which, tho' to the Hiſtorian they ſeem ſuperfluous, ſerve mightily to enliven the Imagery, and gratify the Fancy. If it be not neceſſary, as in the Iliad, to inform us each time the Hero buckles his Shoes, and ties his Garters, 'twill be requiſite, per⯑haps, to enter into a greater Detail than in the Hen⯑riade; where the Events are run over with ſuch Ra⯑pidity, that we ſcarce have Leizure to become ac⯑quainted with the Scene or Action. Were a Poet, therefore, to comprehend in his Subject any great Compaſs of Time or Series of Events, and trace up the Death of Hector to its remote Cauſes, in the Rape of Helen, or the Judgment of Paris; he muſt draw out his Poem to an immeaſurable Length, in order to fill this large Canvas with juſt Painting and Imagery. The Reader's Imagination, enflam'd with ſuch a Se⯑ries of poetical Deſcriptions, and his Paſſions, agitated by a continual Sympathy with the Actors, muſt flag long before the Period of the Narration, and muſt ſink into Laſſitude and Diſguſt, from the repeated Violence of the ſame Movements.
SECONDLY. That an Epic Poet muſt not trace the Cauſes to any great Diſtance, will farther appear, if we conſider another Reaſon, which is drawn from a Property of the Paſſions ſtill more remarkable and ſin⯑gular. 'Tis evident, that, in a juſt Compoſition, all the Affections, excited by the different Events, de⯑ſcrib'd [39] and repreſented, add mutual Force to each⯑other; and that, while the Heroes are all engag'd in one common Scene, and each Action is ſtrongly con⯑nected with the whole, the Concern is continually awake, and the Paſſions make an eaſy Tranſition from one Object to another. The ſtrong Connexion of the Events, as it ſacilitates the Paſſage of the Thought or Imagination from one to another, facilitates alſo the Transfuſion of the Paſſions, and preſerves the Af⯑fection ſtill in the ſame Channel and Direction. Our Sympathy and Concern for Eve prepares the Way for a like Sympathy with Adam: The Affection is pre⯑ſerv'd almoſt entire in the Tranſition; and the Mind ſeizes immediately the new Object as ſtrongly related to that which formerly engag'd its Attention. But were the Poet to make a total Digreſſion from his Sub⯑ject, and introduce a new Actor, no way connected with the Perſonages, the Imagination, feeling a Breach in the Tranſition, would enter coldly into the new Scene; would kindle by ſlow Degrees; and in return⯑ing to the main Subject of the Poem, would paſs, as it were, upon foreign Ground, and have its Concern to excite anew, in order to take Party with the prin⯑cipal Actors. The ſame Inconvenience follows in a leſſer Degree, where the Poet traces his Events to too great a Diſtance, and binds together Actions, which, tho' not altogether disjoin'd, have not ſo ſtrong a Connexion as is requiſite to forward the Tranſition of the Paſſions. Hence ariſes the Artifice of oblique [40] Narration, employ'd in the Odyſſey and Aeneid; where the Hero is introduc'd, at firſt, near the Period of his Deſigns, and afterwards ſhows us, as it were in Per⯑ſpective, the more diſtant Events and Cauſes. By this means, the Reader's Curioſity is immediately excited: The Events follow with Rapidity, and in a very cloſe Connexion: And the Concern is preſerv'd alive, and continually encreaſes, by means of the near Relation of the Objects, from the Beginning to the End of the Narration.
THE ſame Rule takes place in dramatic Poetry; nor is it ever permitted, in a regular Compoſition, to introduce an Actor, who has no Connexion, or but a ſmall one, with the principal Perſonages of the Fable. The Spectator's Concern muſt not be diverted by any Scenes, disjoin'd and ſeparate from the reſt. This breaks the Courſe of the Paſſions, and prevents that Communication of the ſeveral Emotions, by which one Scene adds Force to another, and transfuſes the Pity and Terror it excites upon each ſucceeding Scene, 'till the whole produces that Rapidity of Move⯑ment, which is peculiar to the Theatre. How muſt it extinguiſh this Warmth of Affection to be enter⯑tain'd, on a ſudden, with a new Action and new Perſonages, no way related to the former; to find ſo ſenſible a Breach or Vacuity in the Courſe of the Paſ⯑ſions, by means of this Breach in the Connexion of Ideas; and inſtead of carrying the Sympathy of one [41] Scene into the following, to be oblig'd, every Mo⯑ment, to excite a new Concern, and take Party in a new Scene of Action?
BUT tho' this Rule of Unity of Action be common to dramatic and epic Poetry; we may ſtill obſerve a Difference betwixt them, which may, perhaps, de⯑ſerve our Attention. In both theſe Species of Com⯑poſition, tis requiſite the Action be one and ſimple, in order to preſerve the Concern or Sympathy en⯑tire and undiverted: But in epic or narrative Poetry, this Rule is alſo eſtabliſh'd upon another Foundation, viz. the Neceſſity, that is incumbent on every Writ⯑er, to form ſome Plan or Deſign, before he enter on any Diſcourſe or Narration, and to comprehend his Subject in ſome general Aſpect or united View, which may be the conſtant Object of his Attention. As the Author is entirely loſt in dramatic Compoſitions, and the Spectator ſuppoſes himſelf to be really preſent at the Actions repreſented; this Reaſon has no Place with regard to the Stage; but any Dialogue or Con⯑verſation may be introduc'd, which, without Impro⯑bability, might have paſs'd in that determinate Portion of Space, repreſented by the Theatre. Hence in all our Engliſh Comedies, even thoſe of Congreve, the Unity of Action is never ſtrictly obſerv'd; but the Poet thinks it ſufficient, if his Perſonages be any way related to each other, by Blood, or by living in the ſame Family; and he afterwards introduces them in [42] particular Scenes, where they diſplay their Humours and Characters, without much forwarding the main Action. The double Plots of Terence are Licences of the ſame Kind; but in a leſſer Degree. And tho' this Conduct be not perfectly regular, it is not wholly unſuitable to the Nature of Comedy, where the Movements and Paſſions are not rais'd to ſuch a height as in Tragedy; at the ſame time, that the Fiction or Repreſentation palliates, in ſome Degree, ſuch Li⯑cences. In a narrative Poem, the firſt Propoſition or Deſign confines the Author to one Subject; and any Digreſſions of this Nature would, at firſt View, be rejected, as abſurd and monſtrous. Neither Boccace, la Fontaine, nor any Author of that Kind, tho' Plea⯑ſantry be their chief Object, have ever indulg'd them.
TO return to the Compariſon of Hiſtory and epic Poetry, we may conclude, from the foregoing Rea⯑ſonings, that as a certain Unity is requiſite in all Productions, it cannot be wanting to Hiſtory more than to any other; that in Hiſtory, the Connexion among the ſeveral Events, which unites them into one Body, is the Relation of Cauſe and Effect, the ſame which takes place in epic Poetry; and that in the latter Compoſition, this Connexion is only re⯑quir'd to be cloſer and more ſenſible, on account of the lively Imagination and ſtrong Paſſions, which [43] muſt be touch'd by the Poet in his Narration. The Peloponneſian War is a proper Subject for Hiſtory, the Siege of Athens for an epic Poem, and the Death of Alcibiades for a Tragedy.
AS the Difference, therefore, betwixt Hiſtory and epic Poetry conſiſts only in the Degrees of Connexion, which bind together thoſe ſeveral Events, of which their Subject is compos'd, 'twill be difficult, if not impoſſible, by Words, to determine exactly the Bounds, which ſeparate them from each other. That is a Matter of Taſte more than of Reaſoning; and perhaps, this Unity may often be diſcovered in a Sub⯑ject, where, at firſt View, and from an abſtract Con⯑ſideration, we ſhould leaſt expect to find it.
'TIS evident, that Homer, in the Courſe of his Narration, exceeds the firſt Propoſition of his Subject; and that the Anger of Achilles, which caus'd the Death of Hector, is not the ſame with that which pro⯑duc'd ſo many Ills to the Greeks. But the ſtrong Connexion betwixt theſe two Movements, the quick Tranſition from one to the other, the Contraſte* be⯑twixt the Effects of Concord and Diſcord amongſt the [44] Princes, and the natural Curioſity we have to ſee Achilles in Action, after ſo long Repoſe; all theſe Cauſes carry on the Reader, and produce a ſufficient Unity in the Subject.
IT may be objected to Milton, that he has trac'd up his Cauſes to too great a Diſtance, and that the Rebellion of the Angels produces the Fall of Man by a Train of Events, which is both very long and very caſual. Not to mention that the Creation of the World, which he has related at Length, is no more the Cauſe of that Cataſtrophe, than of the Battle of Pharſalia, or any other Event, that has ever hap⯑pen'd. But if we conſider, on the other hand, that all theſe Events, the Rebellion of the Angels, the Creation of the World, and the Fall of Man, reſemble each other, in being miraculous and out of the com⯑mon Courſe of Nature; that they are ſuppos'd to be contiguous in Time; and that being detach'd from all other Events, and being the only original Facts, which Revelation diſcovers, they ſtrike the Eye at once, and naturally recall each other to the Thought or Imagi⯑nation: If we conſider all theſe Circumſtances, I ſay, we ſhall find, that theſe Parts of the Action have a ſufficient Unity to make them be comprehended in one Fable or Narration. To which we may add, that the Rebellion of the Angels and the Fall of Man have a peculiar Reſemblance as being Counterparts to each other, and preſenting to the Reader, the ſame Moral, of Obedience to our Creator.
[45] THESE looſe Hints I have thrown together, in or⯑der to excite the Curioſity of Philoſophers, and beget a Suſpicion at leaſt, if not a full Perſuaſion, that this Subject is very copious, and that many Operations of the human Mind depend on the Connexion or Aſſo⯑ciation of Ideas, which is here explain'd. Particularly, the Sympathy betwixt the Paſſions and Imagination will, perhaps, appear remarkable; while we obſerve that the Affections, excited by one Object, paſs eaſily to another connected with it; but transfuſe themſelves with Difficulty, or not at all, along different Objects, which have no manner of Connexion together. By introducing, into any Compoſition, Perſonages and Actions, foreign to each other, an injudicious Author loſes that Communication of Emotions, by which alone he can intereſt the Heart, and raiſe the Paſſions to their proper Height and Period. The full Expli⯑cation of this Principle and all its Conſequences would lead us into Reaſonings too profound and too copious for theſe Eſſays. 'Tis ſufficient for us, at preſent, to have eſtabliſh'd this Concluſion, that the three con⯑necting Principles of all Ideas are the Relations of Re⯑ſemblance, Contiguity, and Cauſation.
ALL the Objects of human Reaſon or Enquiry may naturally be divided into two Kinds, viz. Relations of Ideas and Matters of Fact. Of the firſt Kind are the Propoſitions in Geometry, Algebra, and Arithmetic; and in ſhort, every Propoſition, that is either intuitively or demonſtratively certain. That the Square of the Hypothenuſe is equal to the Squares of the two Sides, is a Propoſition, that expreſſes a Rela⯑tion betwixt theſe Figures. That three times five is equal to the half of thirty, expreſſes a Relation betwixt theſe Numbers. Propoſitions of this Kind are diſco⯑verable by the mere Operation of Thought, without Dependance on what is any where exiſtent in the Uni⯑verſe. Tho' there never were a true Circle or Tri⯑angle in Nature, the Propoſitions, demonſtrated by [48] Euclid, would for ever retain all their Truth and Evidence.
MATTERS of Fact, which are the ſecond Objects of human Reaſon, are not aſcertain'd to us in the ſame Manner; nor is our Evidence of their Truth, how⯑ever great, of a like Nature with the foregoing. The contrary of every Matter of Fact is ſtill poſſible; be⯑cauſe it can never imply a Contradiction, and is con⯑ceiv'd by the Mind with equal Diſtinctneſs and Fa⯑cility, as if ever ſo conformable to Truth and Reality. That the Sun will not riſe To-morrow is no leſs intelli⯑gible a Propoſition, and implies no more Contradic⯑tion, than the Affirmation, that it will riſe. We ſhould in vain, therefore, attempt to demonſtrate its Falſhood. Were it demonſtratively falſe, it would imply a Contradiction, and could never be diſtinctly conceiv'd by the Mind.
IT may, therefore, be a Subject, worthy Curioſity, to enquire what is the Nature of that Evidence, which aſſures us of any real Exiſtence and Matter of Fact, beyond the preſent Teſtimony of our Senſes, or the Records of our Memory. This Part of Philoſophy, 'tis obſervable, has been little cultivated, either by the Antients or Moderns; and therefore our Doubts and Errors, in the Proſecution of ſo important an En⯑quiry, may be the more excuſable, while we mare [49] thro' ſuch difficult Paths, without any Guide or Di⯑rection. They may even prove uſeful, by exciting Curioſity, and deſtroying that implicite Faith and Se⯑curity, which is the Bane of all Reaſoning and free Enquiry. The Diſcovery of Defects in the common Philoſophy, if any ſuch there be, will not, I preſume, be a Diſcouragement, but rather an Incitement, as is uſual, to attempt ſomething more full and ſatisfactory, than has yet been propos'd to the Public.
ALL Reaſonings concerning Matter of Fact ſeem to be founded on the Relation of Cauſe and Effect. By Means of that Relation alone can we go beyond the Evidence of our Memory and Senſes. If you were to aſk a Man, why he believes any Matter of Fact, which is abſent; for Inſtance, that his Friend is in the Country, or in France; he would give you a Rea⯑ſon; and this Reaſon would be ſome other Fact; as a Letter receiv'd from him, or the Knowledge of his former Reſolutions and Promiſes. A Man, finding a Watch or any other Machine in a deſert Iſland, would conclude, that there had once been Men in that Iſland. All our Reaſonings concerning Fact are of the ſame Nature. And here 'tis conſtantly ſuppos'd, that there is a Connexion betwixt the preſent Fact and that in⯑fer'd from it. Were there nothing to bind them to⯑gether, the Inference would be altogether precarious. The hearing of an articulate Voice and rational Diſ⯑courſe [50] in the Dark aſſures us of the Preſence of ſome Perſon: Why? Becauſe theſe are the Effects of the human Make and Fabric, and cloſely connected with it. If we anatomize all the other Reaſonings of this Nature, we ſhall find, that they are founded on the Relation of Cauſe and Effect, and that this Relation is either near or remote, direct or collateral. Heat and Light are collateral Effects of Fire, and the one Effect may juſtly be infer'd from the other.
IF we would ſatisfy ourſelves, therefore, concern⯑ing the Nature of that Evidence, which aſſures us of all Matters of Fact, we muſt enquire how we arrive at the Knowledge of Cauſes and Effects.
I SHALL venture to affirm, as a general Propoſi⯑tion, which admits of no Exception, that the Know⯑ledge of this Relation of Cauſe and Effect is not, in any Inſtance, attain'd by Reaſonings a priori; but ariſes entirely from Experience, when we find, that particular Objects are conſtantly conjoin'd with each other. Let any Object be preſented to a Man of ever ſo ſtrong natural Reaſon and Abilities; if that Object be entirely new to him, he will never be able, by the moſt accurate Examination of its ſenſible Quali⯑ties, to diſcover any of its Cauſes or Effects. Adam, tho' his rational Faculties be ſuppos'd, at the very firſt, ever ſo perfect, could not have infer'd from the [51] Fluidity and Tranſparency of Water, that it would ſuffocate him, or from the Light and Warmth of Fire, that it would conſume him. No Object ever diſcovers, by the Qualities, which appear to the Senſes, either the Cauſes, which produc'd it, or the Effects, which will ariſe from it; nor can our Reaſon, unaſſiſted by Experience, ever draw any Inferences concerning real Exiſtence and Matter of Fact.
THIS Propoſition, that Cauſes and Effects are diſ⯑coverable, not by Reaſon, but by Experience, will rea⯑dily be admitted with regard to ſuch Objects, as we remember, to have been once altogether unknown to us; ſince we muſt be conſcious of the utter Inability we then lay under of foretelling what would ariſe from them. Preſent two ſmooth Pieces of Marble to a Man, who has no Tincture of natural Philoſophy; and whatever Degree of Senſe or Reaſon he may be endow'd with, he will never diſcover, that they will adhere together in ſuch a Manner as to require great Force to ſeparate them in a direct Line, while they make ſo ſmall Reſiſtance to a lateral Preſſure. Such Events, as bear little Analogy to the common Courſe of Nature, are alſo readily acknowledged to be known only by Experience; nor does any Man imagine that the Exploſion of Gunpowder, or the Attraction of a Loadſtone could ever be diſcover'd by Arguments a priori. In like manner, when an Effect is ſuppos'd [52] to depend upon an intricate Machinery or ſecret Struc⯑ture, of Parts, we make no Difficulty to attribute all our Knowledge of it to Experience. Who will aſſert, that he can give the ultimate Reaſon, why Milk or Bread is proper Nouriſhment for a Man, not for a Lyon or a Tyger?
BUT the ſame Truth may not appear, at firſt View, to have the ſame Evidence with regard to Events, which have become familiar to us from our firſt Ap⯑pearance in the World, which bear a cloſe Analogy to the whole Courſe of Nature, and which are ſup⯑pos'd to depend on the ſimple Qualities of Objects, without any ſecret Structure of Parts. We are apt to imagine, that we could diſcover theſe Effects, by the mere Operations of our Reaſon, without Experience. We fancy, that, were we brought, of a ſudden, into this World, we could at firſt have infer'd, that one Billiard-ball would communicate Motion to another upon Impulſe; and that we needed not to have waited for the Event, in order to pronounce with Cer⯑tainty concerning it. Such is the Influence of Cuſ⯑tom, that, where it is ſtrongeſt, it not only covers our natural Ignorance, but even conceals itſelf, and ſeems not to take place, merely becauſe it is found in the higheſt Degree.
[53] BUT to convince us, that all the Laws of Nature and all the Operations of Bodies, without Exception, are known only by Experience, the following Reflec⯑tions may, perhaps, ſuffice. Were any Object pre⯑ſented to us, and were we requir'd to pronounce con⯑cerning the Effect, that will reſult from it, without conſulting paſt Obſervation; after what Manner, I beſeech you, muſt the Mind proceed in this Opera⯑tion? It muſt invent or imagine ſome Event, which it aſcribes to the Object as its Effect; and 'tis plain this Invention muſt be entirely arbitrary. It can ne⯑ver poſſibly find the Effect in the ſuppos'd Cauſe, by the moſt accurate Scrutiny and Examination. For the Effect is totally different from the Cauſe, and conſe⯑quently can never be diſcover'd in it. Motion in the ſecond Billiard-ball is a quite diſtinct Event from Mo⯑tion in the firſt; nor is there any thing in the one to ſuggeſt the ſmalleſt Hint of the other. A Stone or Piece of Metal rais'd into the Air, and left without any Support, immediately falls: But to conſider the Matter a priori; is there any thing we diſcover in this Situation, which can beget the Idea of a down⯑ward, rather than an upward, or any other Motion, in the Stone or Metal?
AND as the firſt Imagination or Invention of a par⯑ticular Effect, in all natural Operations, is arbitrary, [54] where we conſult not Experience; ſo muſt we alſo eſteem the ſuppos'd Tye or Connexion betwixt the Cauſe and Effect, which binds them together, and renders it impoſſible, that any other Effect could re⯑ſult from the Operation of that Cauſe. When I ſee, for Inſtance, a Billiard-ball moving in a ſtrait Line towards another; even ſuppoſe Motion in the ſecond Ball ſhould by Accident be ſuggeſted to me, as the Reſult of their Contact or Impulſe; might I not con⯑ceive, that a hundred other different Events might as well follow from that Cauſe? May not both theſe Balls remain at abſolute Reſt? May not the firſt Ball return in a ſtrait Line, or leap off from the ſecond in any Line or Direction? All theſe Suppoſitions are conſiſtent and conceivable. Why then ſhould we give the Preference to one, which is no more conſiſtent nor conceivable than the reſt? All our Reaſonings a priori will never be able to ſhew us any Foundation for this Preſerence.
IN a word, then, every Effect is a diſtinct Event from its Cauſe. It could not, therefore, be diſco⯑ver'd in the Cauſe, and the firſt Invention or Concep⯑tion of it, a priori, muſt be entirely arbitrary. And even after it is ſuggeſted, the Conjunction of it with the Cauſe muſt appear equally arbitrary; ſince there are always many other Effects, which, to Reaſon, muſt ſeem fully as conſiſtent and natural. 'Twould, [55] therefore, be in vain for us to pretend to determine any ſingle Event, or infer any Cauſe or Effect, with⯑out the Aſſiſtance of Obſervation and Experience.
HENCE we may diſcover the Reaſon, why no Phi⯑loſopher, that has been rational and modeſt, has ever pretended to aſſign the ultimate Cauſes of any of the Operations of Nature, or to ſhow diſtinctly the Actions of that Power, which produces any ſingle Ef⯑fect in the Univerſe. 'Tis confeſs'd, that the utmoſt Effort of human Reaſon is, to reduce the Principles, productive of natural Phaenomena, to a greater Sim⯑plicity, and to reſolve the many particular Effects into a few general Cauſes, by Means of Reaſonings from Analogy, Experience, and Obſervation. But as to the Cauſes of theſe general Cauſes, we ſhould in vain attempt their Diſcovery; nor ſhall we ever be able to ſatisfy ourſelves, by any particular Explication of them. Theſe ultimate Springs and Principles are to⯑tally ſhut up from human Curioſity and Enquiry. E⯑laſticity, Gravity, Coheſion of Parts, Communica⯑tion of Motion by Impulſe; theſe are probably the ul⯑timate Cauſes and Principles we ſhall ever diſcover in Nature; and we may eſteem ourſelves ſufficiently happy, if, by accurate Enquiry and Reaſoning, we can trace up the particular Phaenomena to, or near to, theſe general Principles. The moſt perfect Philoſo⯑phy of the natural Kind does only ſtave off our Igno⯑rance [56] a little longer: As perhaps the moſt perfect Phi⯑loſophy of the moral or metaphyſical Kind ſerves only to diſcover larger Portions of our Ignorance. Thus the Obſervation of human Ignorance and Weakneſs is the Reſult of all our Philoſophy, and meets us, at every Turn, in ſpite of our Endeavours to conquer, or avoid it.
NOR is Geometry, when taken into the Aſſiſtance of natural Philoſophy, ever able to remedy this De⯑fect, or lead us into the Knowledge of ultimate Cauſes, by all that Accuracy of Reaſoning, for which it is ſo juſtly celebrated. Every Part of mix'd Mathema⯑tics ſtill upon the Suppoſition, that certain Laws are eſtabliſh'd by Nature in her Operations; and abſtract Reaſonings are employ'd, either to aſſiſt Experience in the Diſcovery of theſe Laws, or to de⯑termine their Influence in particular Inſtances, where it depends upon any preciſe Degrees of Diſtance and Quantity. Thus 'tis a Law of Motion, diſcover'd by Experience, that the Moment or Force of any Body in Motion is in the compound Ratio or Proportion of its ſolid Contents and its Velocity; and conſequently, that a ſmall Force may remove the greateſt Obſtacle or raiſe the greateſt Weight, if by any Contrivance or Machinery we can encreaſe the Velocity of that Force, ſo as to make it an Overmatch for its Antagoniſt. Geometry aſſiſts us in the Application of this Law, by [57] giving us the juſt Dimenſions of all the Parts and Fi⯑gures, which can enter into any Species of Machine; but ſtill the Diſcovery of the Law itſelf is owing merely to Experience, and all the abſtract Reaſonings in the World could never lead us one Step towards the Knowledge of it. When we reaſon a priori, and con⯑ſider merely any Object or Cauſe, as it appears to the Mind, independent of all Obſervation, it never could ſuggeſt to us the Notion of any diſtinct Object, ſuch as its Effect; much leſs, ſhow us the inſeparable and inviolable Connexion betwixt them. A Man muſt be very ſagacious, who could diſcover by Rea⯑ſoning, that Cryſtal is the Effect of Heat and Ice of Cold, without being previouſly acquainted with the Operations of theſe Qualities.
BUT we have not, as yet, attain'd any tolerable Satisfaction with regard to the Queſtion firſt propos'd. Each Solution ſtill gives riſe to a new Queſtion as diffi⯑cult as the foregoing, and leads us on to farther En⯑quiries. When it is aſk'd, What is the Nature of all our Reaſonings concerning Matter of Fact? the proper Anſwer ſeems to be, that they are founded on the Relation of Cauſe and Effect. When again it is aſk'd, What is the Foundation of all our Reaſonings and Con⯑cluſions concerning that Relation? it may be reply'd in one Word, EXPERIENCE. But if we ſtill carry on [58] our ſifting and examining Humour, and aſk, What is the Foundation of all our Concluſions from Experience? this produces a new Queſtion, which may be of more difficult Solution and Explication. Philoſophers, that give themſelves Airs of ſuperior Wiſdom and Suffi⯑ciency, have a hard Taſk, when they encounter Per⯑ſons of inquiſitive Diſpoſitions, who puſh them from every Corner, to which they retreat, and who are ſure at laſt to bring them to ſome dangerous Dilemma. The beſt Expedient to prevent this Confuſion is to be modeſt in our Pretenſions; and even to diſcover the Difficulty ourſelves before it is objected to us. By this Means, we may make a kind of Merit of our very Ignorance.
I SHALL content myſelf, in this Eſſay, with an eaſy Taſk, and ſhall pretend only to give a negative Anſwer to the Queſtion here propos'd. I ſay then, that even after we have Experience of the Operations of Cauſe and Effect, our Concluſions from that Ex⯑perience are not founded on Reaſoning or any Proceſs of the Underſtanding. This Anſwer we muſt endea⯑vour, both to explain, and to defend.
IT muſt certainly be allow'd, that Nature has kept us at a great Diſtance from all her Secrets, and has afforded us only the Knowledge of a few ſuperficial Qualities of Objects, while ſhe conceals from us thoſe [59] Powers and Principles, on which the Influence of theſe Objects entirely depends. Our Senſes inform us of the Colour, Weight, and Conſiſtence of Bread; but neither Senſes nor Reaſon ever can inform us of thoſe Qualities, which fit it for the Nouriſhment and Support of a human Body. Sight or Feeling convey an Idea of the actual Motion of Bodies; but as to that wonderful Force or Power, which would carry on a moving Body for ever in a continu'd Change of Place, and which Bodies never loſe but by communicating it to others; of this we cannot from the moſt diſtant Conception. But notwithſtanding this Ignorance of natural Powers and Principles, we always preſume, where we ſee like ſenſible Qualities, that they have like ſecret Powers, and lay our Account, that Effects, ſimilar to thoſe, which we have experienc'd, will fol⯑low from them. If a Body of like Colour and Con⯑ſiſtence with that Bread, which we have formerly eat, be preſented to us, we make no Scruple of repeating the Experiment, and expect, with Certainty, like Nouriſhment and Support. Now this is a Proceſs of the Mind or Thought, of which I would willingly know the Foundation. 'Tis allow'd on all hands, that there is no known Connexion betwixt the ſenſible Qualities and the ſecret Powers; and conſequently, that the Mind is not led to form ſuch a Concluſion con⯑cerning their conſtant and regular Conjunction, by any thing it knows of their Nature. As to paſt Ex⯑perience, [60] it can be allow'd to give direct and certain Information only of thoſe preciſe Objects, and that preciſe Period of Time, which fell under its Cogni⯑zance: But why this Experience ſhould be extended to future Times, and to other Objects, which, for aught we know, may be only in Appearance ſimilar; this is the main Queſtion I would inſiſt on. The Bread I formerly eat nouriſh'd me; that is, a Body, of ſuch ſenſible Qualities, was, at that Time, endow'd with ſuch ſecret Powers: But does it follow, that other Bread muſt alſo nouriſh me at another Time, and that like ſenſible Qualities muſt always be at⯑tended with like ſecret Powers? The Conſequence ſeems no way neceſſary. At leaſt, it muſt be acknow⯑leg'd, that there is here a Conſequence drawn by the Mind; that there is a certain Step taken; a Proceſs of Thought, and an Inference, which wants to be ex⯑plain'd. Theſe two Propoſitions are far from being the ſame, I have found that ſuch an Object has always been attended with ſuch an Effect, and I foreſee, that other Objects, which are, to Appearance, ſimilar, will be attended with ſimilar Effects. I ſhall allow, if you pleaſe, that the one Propoſition may juſtly be infer'd from the other: I know in fact, that it always is in⯑fer'd. But if you inſiſt, that the Inference is made by a Chain of Reaſoning, I deſire you may produce that Reaſoning. The Connexion betwixt theſe Propoſi⯑tions is not intuitive. There is requir'd a Medium, which may enable the Mind to draw ſuch an Inference [61] if indeed it be drawn by Reaſoning and Argument. What that Medium is, I muſt confeſs, paſſes my Com⯑prehenſion; and 'tis incumbent on thoſe to produce it, who aſſert, that it really exiſts, and is the Origin of all our Concluſions concerning Matter of Fact.
THIS negative Argument muſt certainly, in Proceſs of Time, become altogether convincing, if many pe⯑netrating and able Philoſophers ſhall turn their En⯑quiries this Way; and no one be ever able to diſcover any connecting Propoſition or intermediate Step, which ſupports the Underſtanding in this Concluſion. But as the Queſtion is yet new, every Reader may not truſt ſo far to his own Penetration, as to conclude, be⯑cauſe an Argument eſcapes his Reſearch and Enquiry, that therefore it does not really exiſt. For this Rea⯑ſon it may be requiſite to venture upon a more difficult Taſk; and enumerating all the Branches of human Knowledge, endeavour to ſhow, that none of them can afford ſuch an Argument.
ALL Reaſonings may be divided into two Kinds, viz. demonſtrative Reaſonings, or thoſe concerning Relations of Ideas, and moral or probable Reaſonings, or thoſe concerning Matter of Fact and Exiſtence. That there are no demonſtrative Arguments in the Caſe, ſeems evident; ſince it implies no Contradic⯑tion, that the Courſe of Nature may change, and [62] that Objects ſeemingly like thoſe we have experienc'd may be attended with different or contrary Effects. May I not clearly and diſtinctly conceive, that a Body falling from the Clouds, and which, in all other re⯑ſpects, reſembles Snow, has yet the Taſte of Salt or Feeling of Fire? Is there any more intelligible Pro⯑poſition than to affirm, that all the Trees flouriſh in December and January, and decay in May and June? Now whatever is intelligible, and can be diſtinctly conceiv'd, implies no Contradiction, and can never be prov'd falſe by any demonſtrative Arguments or ab⯑ſtract Reaſonings a priori.
IF we be, therefore, engag'd by Arguments to put truſt in paſt Experience, and make it the Standard of our future Judgment, theſe Arguments muſt be pro⯑bable only, or ſuch as regard Matter of Fact and real Exiſtence, according to the Diviſion above mention'd. But that there are no Arguments of this Kind, muſt appear, if our Explication of that Species of Reaſon⯑ing be admitted as ſolid and ſatisfactory. We have ſaid, that all Arguments concerning Exiſtence are founded on the Relation of Cauſe and Effect; that our Knowledge of that Relation is deriv'd entirely from Experience; and that all our experimental Conclu⯑ſions proceed upon the Suppoſition, that the future will be conformable to the paſt. To endeavour, therefore, the Proof of this laſt Suppoſition by pro⯑bable [63] Arguments, or Arguments regarding Exiſtence, muſt be evidently going in a Circle, and taking that for granted, which is the very Point in Queſtion.
IN Reality, all Arguments from Experience are founded on the Similarity, which we diſcover among natural Objects, and by which we are induc'd to ex⯑pect Effects ſimilar to thoſe, which we have found to follow from ſuch Objects. And tho' none but a Fool or Madman will ever pretend to diſpute the Autho⯑rity of Experience, or to reject that great Guide of human Life; it may ſurely be allow'd a Philoſopher to have ſo much Curioſity, at leaſt, as to examine the Principle of human Nature, which gives this mighty Authority to Experience, and makes us draw Advantage from that Similarity, which Nature has plac'd among different Objects. From Cauſes, which appear ſimilar, we expect ſimilar Effects. This is the Sum of all our experimental Concluſions. Now it ſeems evident, that if this Concluſion were form'd by Reaſon, it would be as perfect at firſt, and upon one Inſtance, as after ever ſo long a Courſe of Experience. But the Caſe is far otherwiſe. Nothing ſo like as Eggs; yet no one, on account of this apparent Simi⯑larity, expects the ſame Taſte and Reliſh in all of them. 'Tis only after a long Courſe of uniform Ex⯑periments in any Kind, that we attain a firm Reliance and Security with regard to a particular Event. Now [64] where is that Proceſs of Reaſoning, which from one Inſtance draws a Concluſion, ſo different from that which it infers from a hundred Inſtances, that are no way different from that ſingle Inſtance? This Queſtion I propoſe as much for the Sake of Information, as with an Intention of raiſing Difficulties. I cannot find, I cannot imagine any ſuch Reaſoning. But I keep my Mind ſtill open to Inſtruction, if any one will vouchſafe to beſtow it on me.
SHOULD it be ſaid, that from a Number of uni⯑form Experiments, we infer a Connexion betwixt the ſenſible Qualities and the ſecret Powers; this, I muſt confeſs, ſeems the ſame Difficulty, couch'd in diffe⯑rent Terms. The Queſtion ſtill recurs, On what Proceſs of Argument this Inference is founded? Where is the Medium, the interpoſing Ideas, which join Pro⯑poſitions ſo very wide of each other? 'Tis confeſs'd, that the Colour, Conſiſtence, and other ſenſible Qua⯑lities of Bread appear not, of themſelves, to have any Connexion with the ſecret Powers of Nouriſhment and Support. For otherwiſe we could infer theſe ſecret Powers from the firſt Appearance of theſe ſenſible Qualities, without the Aid of Experience, contrary to the Sentiment of all Philoſophers; and contrary to plain Matter of Fact. Here then is our natural State of Ignorance with regard to the Powers and Influence of all Objects. How is this remedy'd by Experience? [65] It only ſhews us a Number of uniform Effects, reſult⯑ing from certain Objects, and teaches us, that thoſe particular Objects, at that particular Time, were en⯑dow'd with ſuch Powers and Forces. When a new Object of ſimilar ſenſible Qualities is produc'd, we ex⯑pect ſimilar Powers and Forces, and lay our Account with a like Effect. From a Body of a like Colour and Conſiſtence with Bread, we look for like Nouriſhment and Support. But this ſurely is a Step or Progreſs of the Mind, which wants to be explain'd. When a Man ſays, I have found, in all paſt Inſtances, ſuch ſen⯑ſible Qualities, conjoin'd with ſuch ſecret Powers: And when he ſays, ſimilar ſenſible Qualities will always be conjoin'd with ſimilar ſecret Powers; he is not guilty of a Tautology, nor are theſe Propoſitions in any re⯑ſpect the ſame. You ſay the one Propoſition is an In⯑ference from the other. But you muſt confeſs, that the Inference is not intuitive; neither is it demonſtra⯑tive: Of what Nature is it then? To ſay it is experi⯑mental is begging the Queſtion. For all Inferences from Experience ſuppoſe, as their Foundation, that the future will reſemble the paſt, and that ſimilar Pow⯑ers will be conjoin'd with ſimilar ſenſible Qualities. If there be any Suſpicion, that the Courſe of Nature may change, and that the paſt may be no Rule for the future, all Experience becomes uſeleſs, and can give riſe to no Inferences or Concluſions. 'Tis impoſſible, therefore, that any Arguments from Experience can [66] prove this Reſemblance of the paſt to the future; ſince all theſe Arguments are founded on the Suppo⯑ſition of that Reſemblance. Let the Courſe of Things be allow'd hitherto never ſo regular; that alone, with⯑out ſome new Argument or Inference, proves not, that, for the future, it will continue ſo. In vain do you pretend to have learnt the Nature of Bodies from your paſt Experience. Their ſecret Nature, and con⯑ſequently, all their Effects and Influence may change, without any Change in their ſenſible Qualities. This happens ſometimes, and with regard to ſome Objects: Why may it not happen always, and with regard to all Objects? What Logic, what Proceſs of Argument ſecures you againſt this Suppoſition? My Practice, you ſay, refutes my Doubts. But you miſtake the Purport of my Queſtion. As an Agent, I am quite ſatisfy'd in the Point: But as a Philoſopher, who has ſome Share of Curioſity, I will not ſay Scepticiſm, I want to learn the Foundation of this Inference. No Reading, no Enquiry has yet been able to remove my Difficulty, or give me Satisfaction in a Matter of ſuch vaſt Importance. Can I do better than propoſe the Difficulty to the Public, even tho', perhaps, I have ſmall Hopes of obtaining a Solution? We ſhall at leaſt, by this Means, be ſenſible of our Ignorance, if we do not augment our Knowledge.
I MUST confeſs, that a Man is guilty of unpardo⯑nable Arrogance, who concludes, becauſe an Argu⯑ment [67] has eſcap'd his own Inveſtigation and Enquiry, that therefore it does not really exiſt. I muſt alſo confeſs, that tho' all the Learned, for ſeveral Ages, ſhould have employ'd their Time in fruitleſs Search upon any Subject, it may ſtill perhaps, be raſh to conclude poſitively, that the Subject muſt, therefore, paſs all human Comprehenſion. Even tho' we ex⯑amine all the Sources of our Knowledge, and conclude them unfit for ſuch a Subject, there may ſtill remain a Suſpicion, that the Enumeration is not compleat, or the Examination not accurate. But with regard to the preſent Subject, there are ſome Conſiderations, which ſeem to remove all this Accuſation of Arro⯑gance or Suſpicion of Miſtake.
'TIS certain, that the moſt ignorant and ſtupid Pea⯑ſants, nay Infants, nay even brute Beaſts improve by Experience, and learn the Qualities of natural Ob⯑jects, by obſerving the Effects, which reſult from them. When a Child has felt the Senſation of Pain from touching the Flame of a Candle, he will be care⯑ful not to put his Hand near any Candle; but will expect a ſimilar Effect from a Cauſe, which is ſimilar to its ſenſible Qualities and Appearance. If you aſ⯑ſert, therefore, that the Underſtanding of the Child is led into this Concluſion by any Proceſs of Argument or Ratiocination, I may juſtly require you to produce that Argument; nor have you any Pretext to refuſe ſo [68] equitable a Demand. You cannot ſay, that the Ar⯑gument is abſtruſe, and may poſſibly eſcape your Search and Enquiry; ſince you confeſs, that it is ob⯑vious to the Capacity of a mere Infant. If you heſi⯑tate, therefore, a Moment, or if, after Reflection, you produce any intricate and profound Argument, you, in a Manner, give up the Queſtion, and confeſs, that it is not Reaſoning, which engages us to ſuppoſe the paſt reſembling the future, and to expect ſimilar Ef⯑fects from Cauſes, which are, to Appearance, ſimilar. This is the Propoſition, which I intended to enforce by the preſent Eſſay. If I be right, I pretend to have made no mighty Diſcovery. And if I be wrong, I muſt acknowledge myſelf to be indeed a very backward Scholar; ſince I cannot now diſcover an Argument, which, it ſeems, was perfectly familiar to me, long before I was out of my Cradle.
THE Paſſion for Philoſophy, like that for Re⯑ligion, ſeems liable to this Inconvenience, that, tho' it aims at the Correction of our Manners and Ex⯑tirpation of our Vices, it may only ſerve, by impru⯑dent Management, to foſter a predominant Inclina⯑tion, and puſh the Mind, with more determin'd Re⯑ſolution, towards that Side, which already draws too much, by the Byaſs and Propenſity of the natural Tem⯑per. 'Tis certain, that, while we aſpire to the mag⯑nanimous Firmneſs of the philoſophic Sage, and en⯑deavour to confine our Pleaſures altogether within our own Minds, we may, at laſt, render our Philoſophy, like that of Epictetus and other Stoics, only a more re⯑fin'd Syſtem of Selfiſhneſs, and reaſon ourſelves out of all Virtue, as well as ſocial Enjoyment. While we ſtudy with Attention the Vanity of human Life, and [70] turn all our Thoughts on the empty and tranſitory Nature of Riches and Honours, we are, perhaps, all the while flattering our natural Indolence, which, hating the Buſtle of the World and Drudgery of Bu⯑ſineſs, ſeeks a Pretext of Reaſon, to give itſelf a full and uncontroul'd Indulgence. There is, however, one Species of Philoſophy, which ſeems little liable to this Inconvenience, and that becauſe it ſtrikes in with no diſorderly Paſſion of the human Mind, nor can mingle itſelf with any natural Affection or Propenſity; and that is the ACADEMIC or SCEPTICAL Philoſo⯑phy. The Academics talk always of Doubts and Suſpenſe of Judgment, of Danger in haſty Determi⯑nations, of confining to very narrow Bounds the En⯑quiries of the Underſtanding, and of renouncing all Speculations that lie not within the Limits of common Life and Practice. Nothing, therefore, can be more contrary than ſuch a Philoſophy to the ſupine Indo⯑lence of the Mind, its raſh Arrogance, its lofty Pre⯑tenſions, and its ſuperſtitious Credulity. Every Paſ⯑ſion is mortify'd by it, except the Love of Truth; and that Paſſion never is, nor can be carry'd to too high a Degree. 'Tis ſurpriſing, therefore, that this Philoſophy, which, in almoſt every Inſtance, muſt be harmleſs and innocent, ſhould be the Subject of ſo much groundleſs Reproach and Obloquy. But, per⯑haps, the very Circumſtance, which renders it ſo in⯑nocent, is what chiefly expoſes it to the public Hatred [71] and Reſentment. By flattering no irregular Paſſion, it gains few Partizans: By oppoſing ſo many Vices and Follies, it raiſes to itſelf abundance of Enemies, who ſtigmatize it as libertine, prophane, and irre⯑ligious.
NOR need we fear, that this Philoſophy, while it endeavours to limit our Enquiries to common Life, ſhould ever undermine the Reaſonings of common Life, and carry its Doubts ſo far as to deſtroy all Ac⯑tion, as well as Speculation. Nature will always maintain her Rights, and prevail in the End over any abſtract Reaſoning whatſoever. Tho' we ſhould con⯑clude, for Inſtance, as in the foregoing Eſſay, that, in all Reaſonings from Experience, there is a Step taken by the Mind, which is not ſupported by any Argument or Proceſs of the Underſtanding; there is no Danger, that theſe Reaſonings, on which almoſt all Knowledge depends, will ever be affected by ſuch a Diſcovery. If the Mind be not engag'd by Argu⯑ment to make this Step, it muſt be induc'd by ſome other Principle of equal Weight and Authority; and that Principle will preſerve its Influence as long as hu⯑man Nature remains the ſame. What that Principle is, may well be worth the Pains of Enquiry.
SUPPOSE a Perſon, tho' endow'd with the ſtrongeſt Faculties of Reaſon and Reflection, to be brought of [72] a ſudden into this World; he would, indeed, imme⯑diately obſerve a continual Succeſſion of Objects, and one Event following another; but he would not be able to diſcover any thing farther. He would not, at firſt, by any Reaſoning, be able to reach the Idea of Cauſe and Effect; ſince the particular Powers, by which all natural Operations are perform'd, never ap⯑pear to the Senſes; nor is it reaſonable to conclude, merely becauſe one Event, in one Inſtance, precede [...] another, that therefore the one is the Cauſe, and the other the Effect. Their Conjunction may be arbi⯑trary and caſual. There may be no Reaſon to infer the Exiſtence of the one from the Appearance of the other. And in a word, ſuch a Perſon, without more Experience, could never employ his Conjecture or Reaſoning concerning any Matter of Fact, or be aſ⯑ſur'd of any thing beyond what was immediately pre⯑ſent to his Memory and Senſes.
SUPPOSE again, that he has acquir'd more Expe⯑rience, and has liv'd ſo long in the World as to have obſerv'd ſimilar Objects or Events to be conſtantly conjoin'd together; What is the Conſequence of this Experience? He immediately infers the Exiſtence or the one Object from the Appearance of the other. Yet he has not, by all his Experience, acquir'd any Idea or Knowledge of the ſecret Power, by which the one Object produces the other; nor is it, by any Pro⯑ceſs [73] of Reaſoning, he is engag'd to draw this Infe⯑rence. But ſtill he finds himſelf determin'd to draw it: And tho' he ſhould be convinc'd, that his Under⯑ſtanding has no Part in the Operation, he would ne⯑vertheleſs continue in the ſame Courſe of Thinking. There is ſome other Principle, which determines him to form ſuch a Concluſion.
THIS Principle is CUSTOM or HABIT. For where⯑ever the Repetition of any particular Act or Operation produces a Propenſity to renew the ſame Act or Ope⯑ration, without being impell'd by any Reaſoning or Proceſs of the Underſtanding; we always ſay, that this Propenſity is the Effect of Cuſtom. By employing that Word, we pretend not to have given the ulti⯑mate Reaſon of ſuch a Propenſity. We only point out a Principle of human Nature, which is univer⯑ſally acknowledg'd, and which is well known by its Effects. Perhaps, we can puſh our Enquiries no far⯑ther, or pretend to give the Cauſe of this Cauſe; but muſt reſt contented with it as the ultimate Principle, which we can aſſign, of all our Concluſions from Ex⯑perience. 'Tis ſufficient Satisfaction, that we can go ſo far; without repining at the Narrowneſs of our Fa⯑culties, becauſe they will carry us no farther. And 'tis certain we here advance a very intelligible Propo⯑ſition, at leaſt, if not a true one, when we aſſert, that, after the conſtant Conjunction of two Objects, Heat and Flame, for Inſtance, Weight and Solidity, we [74] are determin'd by Cuſtom alone to expect the one from the Appearance of the other. This Hypotheſis ſeems even the only one, which explains the Diffi⯑culty, why we draw an Inference from a thouſand In⯑ſtances, which we are not able to draw from one In⯑ſtance, that is, in no reſpect, different from them. Reaſon is incapable of any ſuch Variation. The Con⯑cluſions it draws from conſidering one Circle are the ſame, which it would form upon ſurveying all the Circles in the Univerſe. But no Man, having ſeen only one Body move after being impell'd by another, could infer, that every other Body will move after a like Impulſe. All Inferences from Experience, there⯑fore, are Effects of Cuſtom, not of Reaſoning*.
[75]CUSTOM, then, is the great Guide of human Life. 'Tis that Principle alone, which renders our Expe⯑rience [76] uſeful to us, and makes us expect for the fu⯑ture a ſimilar Train of Events with thoſe which have [77] appear'd in the paſt. Without the Influence of Cuſ⯑tom, we ſhould be entirely ignorant of every Matter of Fact, beyond what is immediately preſent to the Memory and Senſes. We ſhould never know how to adjuſt Means to Ends, or to employ our natural Powers in the Production of any Effect. There would be an End at once of all Action, as well as of the chief Part of Speculation.
BUT here it may be proper to remark, that tho' our Concluſions from Experience carry us beyond our Memory and Senſes, and aſſure us of Matters of Fact, which happen'd in the moſt diſtant Places and moſt remote Ages; yet ſome Fact muſt always be preſent to the Senſes or Memory, from which we may firſt proceed in drawing theſe Concluſions. A Man, who ſhould find in a deſert Country the Remains of pomp⯑ous Buildings, would conclude, that the Country had, in antient Times, been cultivated by civiliz'd Inha⯑bitants; but did nothing of this Nature occur to him, he could never be able to form ſuch an Inference. We learn the Events of former Ages from Hiſtory; but then we muſt peruſe the Volumes, in which this Inſtruction is contain'd, and thence carry up our Infe⯑rences from one Teſtimony to another, till we arrive at the Eye-witneſſes and Spectators of theſe diſtant Events. In a word, if we proceed not upon ſome Fact, preſent to our Memory or Senſes, our Reaſon⯑ings would be merely hypothetical; and however the [78] particular Links might be connected with each other, the whole Chain of Inferences would have nothing to ſupport it, nor could we ever, by its Means, arrive at the Knowledge of any real Exiſtence. If I aſk, why you believe any particular Matter of Fact, which you re⯑late, you muſt tell me ſome Reaſon; and this Reaſon will be ſome other Fact, connected with it: But as you cannot proceed after this Manner, in infinitum, you muſt at laſt terminate in ſome Fact, which is preſent to your Memory or Senſes; or muſt allow, that your Belief is entirely without Foundation.
WHAT then is the Concluſion of the whole Matter? A ſimple one; tho' it muſt be confeſs'd, pretty remote from the common Theories of Philoſophy. All Be⯑lief of Matter of Fact or real Exiſtence is deriv'd merely from ſome Object, preſent to the Memory or Senſes, and a cuſtomary Conjunction betwixt that and any other Object. Or in other Words; having found, in many Inſtances, that any two Kinds of Objects, Flame and Heat, Snow and Cold, have always been conjoin'd together; if Flame or Snow be preſented anew to our Senſes; the Mind is carry'd by Cuſtom to expect Heat or Cold, and to believe, that ſuch a Qua⯑lity does exiſt, and will diſcover itſelf upon a nearer Approach. This Belief is the neceſſary Reſult of placing the Mind in ſuch Circumſtances. 'Tis an Operation of the Soul, when we are ſo ſituated, as [79] unavoidable as to feel the Paſſion of Love, when we receive Benefits, or Hatred, when we meet with In⯑juries. All theſe Operations are a Species of natural Inſtincts, which no Reaſon or Proceſs of the Thought and Underſtanding is able, either to produce, or to prevent.
AT this Point, 'twould be very allowable for us to ſtop our philoſophical Reſearches. In moſt Queſtions, we can never make a ſingle Step farther; and in all Queſtions, we muſt terminate here at laſt, after our moſt reſtleſs and curious Enquiries. But ſtill our Cu⯑rioſity will be pardonable, perhaps commendable, if it carry us on to ſtill farther Reſearches, and make us examine more accurately the Nature of this Belief, and of the cuſtomary Conjunction, whence it is deriv'd. By this Means, we may meet with ſome Explications and Analogies, that will give Satisfaction; at leaſt to ſuch as love the abſtract Sciences, and can be enter⯑tain'd with Speculations, which, however accurate, may ſtill retain a Degree of Doubt and Uncertainty. As to Readers of a different Taſte; the remaining Part of this Eſſay is not calculated for them, and the following Eſſays may well be underſtood, tho' it be neglected.
THERE is nothing more free than the Imagination of Man; and tho' it cannot exceed that original Stock of Ideas, which is furniſh'd by our internal and exter⯑nal Senſes, it has unlimited Power of mixing, com⯑pounding, ſeparating and dividing theſe Ideas, to all the Varieties of Fiction and Viſion. It can feign a Train of Events, with all the Appearance of Reality, aſcribe to them a particular Time and Place, conceive them as exiſtent, and paint them out to itſelf with every Circumſtance, that belongs to any hiſtorical Fact, which it believes with the greateſt Certainty. Wherein, therefore, conſiſts the Difference betwixt ſuch a Fiction and Belief? It lies not merely in any peculiar Idea, which is annex'd to a Conception, that commands our aſſent, and which is wanting to every known Fiction. For as the Mind has Authority over all its Ideas, it could voluntarily annex this par⯑ticular Idea to any Fiction, and conſequently be able to believe whatever it pleaſes; contrary to what we find by daily Experience. We can, in our Conception, join the Head of a Man to the Body of a Horſe; but it is not in our Power to believe, that ſuch an Animal has ever really exiſted.
IT follows, therefore, that the Difference betwixt Fiction and Belief lies in ſome Sentiment or Feeling, [81] which is annex'd to the latter, not to the former, and which depends not on the Will, nor can be com⯑manded at Pleaſure. It muſt be excited by Nature, like all other Sentiments; and muſt ariſe from the particular Situation, in which the Mind is plac'd at any particular Juncture. Whenever any Object is preſented to the Memory or Senſes, it immediately, by the Force of Cuſtom, carries the Imagination to conceive that Object, which is uſually conjoin'd to it; and this Conception is attended with a Feeling or Sen⯑timent, different from the looſe Reveries of the Fancy. Herein conſiſts the whole Nature of Belief. For as there is no Matter of Fact we believe ſo firmly, that we cannot conceive the contrary, there would be no Difference betwixt the Conception aſſented to, and that which is rejected, were it not for ſome Sentiment, that diſtinguiſhes the one from the other. If I ſee a Billiard-Ball moving towards another, on a ſmooth Table, I can eaſily conceive it to ſtop upon Contact. This Conception implies no Contradiction; but ſtill it feels very differently from that Conception, by which I repreſent to myſelf the Impulſe, and the Com⯑munication of Motion from one Ball to another.
WERE we to attempt a Definition or Deſcription of this Sentiment, we ſhould, perhaps, find it a very difficult, if not impoſſible Taſk; in the ſame Manner as if we ſhould endeavour to define the Feeling of [82] Cold or Paſſion of Anger, to ſuch as never had an Ex⯑perience of theſe Sentiments. BELIEF is the true and proper Name of this Feeling; and no one is ever at a loſs to know the Meaning of that Term; becauſe every Man is every Moment conſcious of the Senti⯑timent, repreſented by it. It may not, however, be improper to attempt a Deſcription of this Sentiment; in hopes we may, by that means, arrive at ſome Ana⯑logies, that may afford a more perfect Explication of it. I ſay then, that Belief is nothing but a more vivid, lively, forcible, firm, ſteady Conception of an Object, than what the Imagination alone is ever able to attain. This Variety of Terms, which may ſeem ſo unphiloſophical, is intended only to expreſs that Act of the Mind, which renders Realities, or what is taken for ſuch, more preſent to us than Fictions, cauſes them to weigh more in the Thought, and gives them a ſuperior Influence on the Paſſions and Imagi⯑nation. Provided we agree about the Thing, 'tis needleſs to diſpute about the Terms. The Imagina⯑tion has the Command over all its Ideas, and can join and mix and vary them, in all the Ways poſſible. [...] may conceive fictitious Objects with all the Circum⯑ſtances of Place and Time. It may ſet them, in a Manner, before our Eyes, in their true Colours, [...] as they might have exiſted. But as it is impoſſible that that Faculty of Imagination can ever, of itſel [...] teach Belief; 'tis evident, that Belief conſiſts not [...] the peculiar Nature or Order of Ideas, but in [...] [83] Manner of their Conception, and in their Feeling to the Mind. I confeſs, that 'tis impoſſible perfectly to explain this Feeling or Manner of Conception. We may make uſe of Words, that expreſs ſomething near it. But its true and proper Name, as we obſerv'd be⯑fore, is Belief; which is a Term, that every one ſuf⯑ficiently underſtands in common Life. And in Phi⯑loſophy, we can go no farther than aſſert, that Belief is ſomething felt by the Mind, which diſtinguiſhes the Ideas of the Judgment from the Fictions of the Imagination. It gives them more Force and Influ⯑ence; makes them appear of greater Importance; inforces them in the Mind, and renders them the go⯑verning Principle of all our Actions. I hear at pre⯑ſent, for Inſtance, a Perſon's Voice, whom I am ac⯑quainted with; and this Sound comes as from the next Room. This Impreſſion of my Senſes imme⯑diately conveys my Thoughts to the Perſon, along with all the ſurrounding Objects. I paint them out to myſelf as exiſting at preſent, with the ſame Qua⯑lities and Relations, that I formerly knew them poſ⯑ſeſt of. Theſe Ideas take ſaſter hold of my Mind, than Ideas of an inchanted Caſtle. They are very different to the Feeling, and have a much greater In⯑fluence of every Kind, either to give Pleaſure or Pain, Joy or Sorrow.
[84] LET us, then, take in the whole Compaſs of this Doctrine, and allow, that the Sentiment of Belief is nothing but a Conception of an Object more intenſe and ſteady than what attends the mere Fictions of the Imagination, and that this Manner of Conception ariſes from a cuſtomary Conjunction of the Object with ſomething preſent to the Memory or Senſes: I believe it will not be difficult, upon theſe Suppoſitions, to find other Operations of the Mind analogous to it, and to trace up theſe Phaenomena to Principles ſtill more general.
WE have already obſerv'd, that Nature has eſta⯑bliſh'd Connexions among particular Ideas, and that no ſooner one occurs to our Thoughts than it intro⯑duces its correlative, and carries our Attention towards it, by a gentle and inſenſible Movement. Theſe Principles of Connexion or Aſſociation we have re⯑duc'd to three, viz. Reſemblance, Contiguity, and Cauſation; which are the only Bonds, that unite our Thoughts together, and beget that regular. Train of Reflection or Diſcourſe, which, in a greater or leſſer Degree, takes place amongſt all Mankind. Now here ariſes a Queſtion, on which the Solution of the preſent Difficulty will depend. Does it happen, in all theſe Relations, that when one of the Objects is pre⯑ſented to the Senſes or Memory, the Mind is not only carry'd to the Conception of the Correlative, but reaches a ſteadier and ſtronger Conception of it than [85] what otherwiſe it would have been able to attain? This ſeems to be the Caſe with that Belief, which a⯑riſes from the Relation of Cauſe and Effect. And if the Caſe be the ſame with the other Relations or Principles of Aſſociation, we may eſtabliſh this as a general Law, that takes place in all the Operations of the Mind.
WE may, therefore, obſerve, as the firſt Experi⯑ment to our preſent Purpoſe, that upon the Appear⯑ance of the Picture of an abſent Friend, our Idea of him is evidently enliven'd by the Reſemblance, and that every Paſſion, which that Idea occaſions, whether of Joy or Sorrow, acquires new Force and Vigour⯑ſn producing this Effect, there concur both a Relation and a preſent Impreſſion. Where the Picture bears him no Reſemblance, or at leaſt was not intended for him, it never ſo much as conveys our Thought to him: And where it is abſent, as well as the Perſon; tho' the Mind may paſs from the Thought of the one to that of the other; it feels its Idea to be rather weaken'd than enliven'd by that Tranſition. We take a Pleaſure in viewing the Picture of a Friend, when 'tis ſet before us; but when 'tis remov'd, rather chuſe to conſider him directly, than by Reflexion in an image, which is equally diſtant and obſcure.
THE Ceremonies of the Roman Catholic Religion may be conſider'd as Experiments of the ſame Nature. [86] The Devotees of that ſtrange Superſtition uſually plead in Excuſe of the Mummeries, with which they are upbraided, that they feel the good Effect of thoſe ex⯑ternal Motions, and Poſtures, and Actions, in en⯑livening their Devotion and quickning their Fervour, which otherwiſe would decay away, if directed en⯑tirely to diſtant and immaterial Objects. We ſhadow out the Objects of our Faith, ſay they, in ſenſible Types and Images, and render them more preſent to us by the immediate Preſence of theſe Types, than 'tis poſſible for us to do, merely by an intellectual View and Contemplation. Senſible Objects have al⯑ways a greater Inſluence on the Fancy than any other; and this Influence they readily convey to thoſe Ideas, to which they are related, and which they reſemble. I ſhall only infer from theſe Practices, and this Rea⯑ſoning, that the Effect of Reſemblance in enlivening the Idea is very common; and as in every Caſe a Re⯑ſemblance and a preſent Impreſſion muſt concur, we are abundantly ſupply'd with Experiments to prove the Reality of the foregoing Principle.
WE may add Force to theſe Experiments by others of a different Kind, in conſidering the Effects of Con⯑tiguity as well as of Reſemblance. 'Tis certain that Diſtance diminiſhes the Force of every Idea, and that upon our Approach to any Object; tho' it does not diſcover itſelf to our Senſes; it operates upon the Mind with an Influence, that imitates an immediate [87] Impreſſion. The thinking on any Object readily tranſports the Mind to what is contiguous; but 'tis only the actual Preſence of an Object, that tranſports it with a ſuperior Vivacity. When I am a few Miles from home, whatever relates to it touches me more nearly than when I am two hundred Leagues diſtant; tho' even at that Diſtance the reflecting on any thing in the Neighbourhood of my Friends or Family natu⯑rally produces an Idea of them. But as in this latter Caſe, both the Objects of the Mind are Ideas; not⯑withſtanding there is an eaſy Tranſition betwixt them; that Tranſition alone is not able to give a ſuperior Vi⯑vacity to any of the Ideas, for want of ſome imme⯑diate Impreſſion*.
[88] NO one can doubt but Cauſation has the ſame In⯑fluence as the other two Relations of Reſemblance and Contiguity. Superſtitious People are fond of the Re⯑licts of Saints and holy Men, for the ſame Reaſon, that they ſeek after Types or Images, in order to en⯑liven their Devotion, and give them a more intimate and ſtrong Conception of thoſe exemplary Lives, which they deſire to imitate. Now 'tis evident one of the beſt Relicts a Devotee could procure would be the Handywork of a Saint; and if his Cloaths and Fur⯑niture are ever to be conſider'd in this Light, 'tis be⯑cauſe they were once at his Diſpoſal, and were mov'd and affected by him; in which Reſpect they are to be conſider'd as imperfect Effects, and as connected with him by a ſhorter Chain of Conſequences than any of thoſe, by which we learn the Reality of his Exiſtence.
SUPPOSE the Son of a Friend, who had been long dead or abſent, were preſented to us; 'tis evident, that this Object would inſtantly revive its correlative Idea, and recall to our Thoughts all our paſt Inti⯑macies and Familiarities in more lively Colours than they would otherwiſe have appear'd to us. This is another Phaenomenon, which ſeems to prove the Prin⯑ciple above mentioned.
[89] WE may obſerve, that in theſe Phaenomena the Belief of the correlative Object is always pre-ſuppos'd; without which the Relation could have no Effect in inlivening the Idea. The Influence of the Picture ſuppoſes, that we believe our Friend to have once ex⯑iſted. Contiguity to Home can never excite our Ideas of Home, unleſs we believe that it really exiſts. Now I aſſert, that this Belief, where it reaches beyond the Memory or Senſes, is of a ſimilar Nature, and ariſes from ſimilar Cauſes, with the Tranſition of Thought and Vivacity of Conception here explain'd. When I throw a Piece of dry Wood into a Fire, my Mind is immediately carry'd to conceive, that its augments, not extinguiſhes the Flame. This Tranſition of Thought from the Cauſe to the Effect proceeds not from Rea⯑ſon. It derives its Origin altogether from Cuſtom and Experience. And as it firſt begins from an Object, preſent to the Senſes, it renders the Idea or Concep⯑tion of Flame more ſtrong and lively than any looſe, floating Reverie of the Imagination. That Idea ariſes immediately. The Thought paſſes inſtantly to it, and conveys to it all that Force of Conception, which is deriv'd from the Impreſſion preſent to the Senſes. When a Sword is level'd at my Breaſt, does not the Idea of Wound and Pain ſtrike me more ſtrongly, than when a Glaſs of Wine is preſented to me, even tho' by Accident this Idea ſhould be pre⯑ſented [90] after the Appearance of the latter Object? But what is there in this whole Matter to cauſe ſuch a ſtrong Conception, but only a preſent Object and a cuſtomary Tranſition to the Idea of another Object, which we have been accuſtom'd to conjoin with the former? This is the whole Operation of the Mind in all our Concluſions concerning Matter of Fact and Exiſtence; and 'tis a Satisfaction to find ſome Analo⯑gies, by which it may be explain'd. The Tranſition from a preſent Object does in all Caſes give Strength and Solidity to the related Idea.
HERE is a kind of pre-eſtabliſh'd Harmony betwixt the Courſe of Nature and the Succeſſions of our Ideas; and tho' the Powers and Forces, by which the former is govern'd, be wholly unknown to us, yet our Thoughts and Conceptions have ſtill, we find, gone on in the ſame Train with the other Works of Nature. Cuſtom is that admirable Principle, by which this Correſpon⯑dence has been effected; ſo neceſſary to the Subſiſt⯑ence of our Species, and the Regulation of our Con⯑duct, in every Circumſtance and Occurrence of hu⯑man Life. Had not the Preſence of an Object in⯑ſtantly excited the Idea of thoſe Objects, commonly conjoin'd with it, all our Knowledge muſt have been limited to the narrow Sphere of our Memory and Senſes; and we ſhould never have been able to adjuſt Means to Ends, nor employ our natural Powers, ei⯑ther to the producing of Good, or avoiding of Evil. [91] Thoſe, who delight in the Diſcovery and Contempla⯑tion of final Cauſes, have here ample Subject to em⯑ploy their Wonder and Admiration.
I SHALL add, as a farther Confirmation of the foregoing Theory, that as this Operation of the Mind, by which we infer like Effects from like Cauſes, and vice verſa, is ſo eſſential to the Subſiſtence of all hu⯑man Creatures, it is not probable it could be truſted to the fallacious Deductions of our Reaſon, which is ſlow in its Operations, appears not, in any Degree, during the firſt Years of Infancy, and at beſt is, in every Age and Period of human Life, extremely liable to Error and Miſtake. 'Tis more like the ordinary Prudence of Nature to ſecure ſo neceſſary an Act of the Mind, by ſome Inſtinct or mechanical Tendency, which may be infallible in its Operations, may diſ⯑cover itſelf at the firſt Appearance of Life and Thought, and may be independent of all the labour'd Deductions of the Underſtanding. As Nature has taught us the Uſe of our Limbs, without giving us the Knowledge of the Muſcles and Nerves, by which they are actuated; ſo has ſhe implanted in us an In⯑ſtinct, that carries forward the Thought in a correſ⯑pondent Courſe to that which ſhe has eſtabliſh'd a⯑mong external Objects; tho' we are ignorant of thoſe Powers and Forces, on which this regular Courſe and Succeſſion of Objects totally depends.
THO there be no ſuch Thing as Chance in the World; our Ignorance of the real Cauſe of any Event has the ſame Influence on the Underſtand⯑ing, and begets a like Species of Belief or Opinion.
THERE is certainly a Probability, which ariſes from a Superiority of Chances on any Side; and according as this Superiority encreaſes, and ſurpaſſes the oppo⯑ſite Chances, the Probability receives a proportionable Encreaſe, and begets ſtill a higher Degree of Belief or Aſſent to that Side, in which we diſcover the Superi⯑ority. [94] If a Dye were mark'd with one Figure or Number of Spots on four Sides, and with another Fi⯑gure or Number of Spots on the two remaining Sides, 'twould be more probable, that the former ſhould turn up than the latter; tho' if it had a thouſand Sides mark'd in the ſame Manner, and only one oppoſite Side, the Probability would be much higher, and our Belief or Expectation of the Event more ſteady and ſecure. This Proceſs of the Thought or Reaſoning may ſeem trivial and obvious; but to thoſe, who con⯑ſider it more narrowly, it may, perhaps, afford Mat⯑ter for very curious Speculation.
IT ſeems evident, that when the Mind looks for⯑ward to diſcover the Event, which may reſult from the Throw of ſuch a Dye, it conſiders the turning up of each particular Side as alike probable; and this is the very Nature of Chance to render all the particular Events, comprehended in it, entirely equal. But finding a greater Number of Sides concur in the one Event than in the other, the View is carry'd more frequently to that Event, and meets it oftner, in re⯑volving the various Poſſibilities or Chances, on which the ultimate Reſult depends. This Concurrence of the ſeveral Views in one particular Event begets im⯑mediately, by an inexplicable Contrivance of Nature, the Sentiment of Belief, and gives that Event the Ad⯑vantage over its Antagoniſt, which is ſupported by a leſſer Number of Views, and recurs leſs frequently [95] to the Mind. If we allow, that Belief is nothing but a firmer and ſtronger Conception of an Object than what attends the mere Fictions of the Imagination, this Operation may, perhaps, in ſome meaſure, be ac⯑counted for. The Concurrence of theſe ſeveral Views or Glimpſes imprints its Idea more ſtrongly on the Imagination; gives it ſuperior Force and Vigour; renders its Influence on the Paſſions and Affections more ſenſible; and in a word, begets that Reliance or Security, which conſtitutes the Nature of Belief and Opinion.
THE Caſe is the ſame with the Probability of Cauſes as with that of Chance. There are ſome Cauſes, which are entirely uniform and conſtant in producing a particular Effect; and no Inſtance has ever yet been found of any Failure or Irregularity in their Opera⯑tion. Fire has always burnt, and Water ſuffocated every human Creature: The Production of Motion by Impulſe and Gravity is an univerſal Law, that has hi⯑therto admitted of no Exception. But there are other Cauſes which have been found more irregular and un⯑certain; nor has Rhubarb prov'd always a Purge, or Opium a Soporific to every one, who has taken theſe Medicines. 'Tis true; when any Cauſe fails of pro⯑ducing its uſual Effect, Philoſophers aſcribe not this to any Irregularity in Nature; but ſuppoſe, that ſome ſecret Cauſes, in the particular Structure of Parts, [96] have prevented the Operation. Our Reaſonings, however, and Concluſions concerning the Event are the ſame as if this Principle had no Place. Being de⯑termin'd by Cuſtom to transfer the paſt to the future, in all our Inferences; where the paſt has been entirely regular and uniform, we expect the Event with the greateſt Aſſurance, and leave no room for any con⯑trary Suppoſition. But where different Effects have been ſound to follow from Cauſes, which are to Ap⯑pearance exactly ſimilar, all theſe various Effects muſt occur to the Mind in transferring the paſt to the fu⯑ture, and enter into our Conſideration, when we de⯑termine the Probability of the Event. Tho' we give the Preference to that which has been found moſt u⯑ſual, and believe that this Effect will exiſt, we muſt not overlook the other Effects, but muſt give each of them a particular Weight and Authority, in Propor⯑tion as we have found it to be more or leſs frequent. 'Tis more probable, in every Place of Europe, that there will be Froſt ſometime in January, than that the Weather will continue freſh throughout that whole Month; tho' this Probability varies according to the different Climates, and approaches to a Certainty in the more northern Kingdoms. Here then it ſeems evident that when we transfer the paſt to the future, in order to determine the Effect that will reſult from any Cauſe, we transfer all the different Events, in the ſame Proportion as they have appear'd in the paſt, and conceive one to have exiſted a hundred Times, [97] for Inſtance, another ten Times, and another once. As a great Number of Views do here concur in one Event, they fortify and confirm it to the Imagination, beget that Sentiment we call Belief, and give it the Preference above its Antagoniſt, which is not ſup⯑ported by an equal Number of Experiments, and oc⯑curs not ſo frequently to the Thought in transferring the paſt to the future. Let any one try to account for this Operation of the Mind upon any of the receiv'd Syſtems of Philoſophy, and he will be ſenſible of the Difficulty. For my part, I ſhall think it ſufficient, if the preſent Hints excite the Curioſity of Philoſo⯑phers, and make them ſenſible how extremely defec⯑tive all receiv'd Theories are, in treating of ſuch cu⯑rious and ſuch ſublime Subjects.
THE great Advantage of the mathematical Sci⯑ences above the moral conſiſts in this, that the Ideas of the former, being ſenſible, are always clear and determinate, the ſmalleſt Diſtinction betwixt them is immediately perceptible, and the ſame Terms are ſtill expreſſive of the ſame Ideas, without Ambiguity or Variation. An Oval is never miſtaken for a Cir⯑cle, nor an Hyperbola for an Ellipſis. The Iſoceles and Scalenum are diſtinguiſh'd by Boundaries more exact than Vice and Virtue, Right and Wrong. If any Term be defin'd in Geometry, the Mind readily, of itſelf, ſubſtitutes, on all Occaſions, the Definition for the Term defin'd: Or even when no Definition is [100] employ'd, the Object itſelf may be preſented to the Senſes, and by that Means be ſteadily and clearly ap⯑prehended. But the finer Sentiments of the Mind, the Operations of the Underſtanding, the various Agi⯑tations of the Paſſions, tho' really in themſelves diſtinct, eaſily eſcape us, when ſurvey'd by Reflection; nor is it in our Power to recall the original Object, as often as we have occaſion to contemplate it. Ambiguity, by this Means, is gradually introduc'd into our Rea⯑ſonings: Similar Objects are readily taken to be the ſame: And the Concluſion becomes, at laſt, very wide of the Premiſes.
ONE may ſafely, however, affirm, that if we con⯑ſider theſe Sciences in a proper Light, their Advantages and Diſadvantages do very nearly compenſate each o⯑ther, and reduce both of them to a State of Equality. If the Mind with greater Facility retains the Ideas of Ge⯑ometry clear and determinate, it muſt carry on a much longer and more intricate Chain of Reaſoning, and com⯑pare Ideas much wider of each other, in order to reach the abſtruſer Truths of that Science. And if more Ideas are apt, without extreme Care, to fall into Ob⯑ſcurity and Confuſion, the Inferences are always much ſhorter in theſe Diſquiſitions, and the intermediate Steps, that lead to the Concluſion, much fewer th [...] in the Sciences, which treat of Quantity and Number. In reality, there is ſcarce a Propoſition of Euclid [...] [101] ſimple as not to conſiſt of more Parts, than are to be found in any moral Reaſoning, which runs not into Chimera and Conceit. If we can trace the Principles of the human Mind thro' a few Steps, we may be very well ſatisfy'd with our Progreſs; conſidering how ſoon Nature throws a Bar to all our Enquiries concerning Cauſes, and reduces us to an Acknowledgment of our Ignorance. The chief Obſtacle, therefore, to our Improvement in the moral or metaphyſical Sciences is the Obſcurity of the Ideas, and Ambiguity of the Terms. The principal Difficulty in the Mathematics in the Length of Inferences and Compaſs of Thought, requiſite to the forming any Concluſion. And per⯑haps, our Progreſs in natural Philoſophy is moſtly re⯑tarded by the Want of proper Experiments and Phe⯑nomena, which often are diſcover'd by Chance, and cannot always be found, when requiſite, even by the moſt diligent and prudent Enquiry. A moral Philo⯑ſophy ſeems hitherto to have received leſs Improve⯑ments than either Geometry or Phyſics, we may con⯑clude, that, if there be any Difference in this Reſpect amongſt theſe Sciences, the Difficulties, which ob⯑ſtruct the Progreſs of the former, require the greateſt Care and Capacity to be ſurmounted.
THERE are no Ideas, that occur in Metaphyſics, more obſcure and uncertain, than thoſe of Power, Force, E⯑nergy, or neceſſary Connexion, which it is every Mo⯑ment [102] neceſſary for us to treat of in all our Diſquiſitions. We ſhall, therefore, endeavour, in this Eſſay, to fix, if poſſible, the preciſe Meaning of theſe Terms, and thereby remove ſome Part of that Obſcurity, which is ſo much complain'd of in this Species of Philoſo⯑phy.
IT ſeems a Propoſition, which will not admit of much Diſpute, that all our Ideas are nothing but Co⯑pies of our Impreſſions, or in other Words, that 'tis impoſſible for us to think of any Thing, which we have not antecedently felt, either by our external or internal Senſes. I have endeavour'd in a former Eſ⯑ſay* to explain and prove this Propoſition, and have expreſs'd my Hopes, that, by a proper Application of it, Men may be able to reach a greater Clearneſs and Preciſion in philoſophical Reaſonings, than what they have hitherto been ever able to attain. Complex Ideas may, perhaps, be well known by Definition, which is nothing but an Enumeration of thoſe Parts or ſimple Ideas, that compoſe them. But when we have puſh'd up Definitions to the moſt ſimple Ideas, and find ſtill ſome Ambiguity and Obſcurity; what Re⯑ſource are we then poſſeſs'd of? By what Invention can we throw Light upon theſe Ideas, and render them altogether preciſe and determinate to our intel⯑lectual [103] View? Produce the Impreſſions or original Sentiments, from which the Ideas are copy'd. Theſe Impreſſions are all ſtrong and ſenſible. They admit not of Ambiguity and Obſcurity. They are not only plac'd in a full Light themſelves, but may throw Light on their correſpondent Ideas, which lie in Ob⯑ſcurity. And by this Means, we may, perhaps, at⯑tain a new Microſcope or Species of Optics, by which, in the moral Sciences, the moſt minute and moſt ſim⯑ple Ideas, may be ſo enlarg'd as to fall readily under our Apprehenſion, and be equally known with the groſſeſt and moſt ſenſible Objects, that can be the Subjects of our Diſquiſition and Enquiry.
To be fully acquainted, therefore, with the Idea of Power or neceſſary Connexion, let us examine its Im⯑preſſion; and in order to find that with greater Certain⯑ty, let us ſearch for all the Sources, from which it may poſſibly be deriv'd.
WHEN we look about us towards external Objects, and conſider the Operation of Cauſes, we are never able, in any ſingle Inſtance, to diſcover any Power or neceſſary Connexion; any Quality, which binds the Effect to the Cauſe, and renders the one an inſallible Conſequence of the other. We only find, that the one does actually, in fact, follow the other. The Impulſe of one Billiard-Ball is attended with Motion [104] in the ſecond. This is the whole, that appears to the outward Senſes. The Mind feels no Sentiment or inward Impreſſion from this Succeſſion of Objects: Conſequently, there is nothing in any ſingle, particu⯑lar Inſtance of Cauſe and Effect, which can ſuggeſt the Idea of Power or neceſſary Connexion.
FROM the firſt Appearance of an Object, we never can conjecture what Effect will reſult from it. But [...] the Power or Energy of any Cauſe diſcoverable by the Mind, we could foreſee the Effect, even with⯑out Experience, and might, at firſt, pronounce with Certainty concerning it, by the mere Dint of Thought and Reaſoning.
IN Reality, there is no Part of Matter, that does ever, by its ſenſible Qualities, diſcover any Power or Energy, or give us ground to imagine, that it could produce any thing, or be follow'd by any other Ob⯑ject, which we could denominate its Effect. Solidity, Extenſion, Motion; theſe Qualities are all compleat in themſelves, and never point out any other Event, which may reſult from them. The Scenes of the Uni⯑verſe are continually ſhifting, and one Object follows another in an uninterrupted Succeſſion; but the Power or Force, which actuates the whole Machine, is en⯑tirely conceal'd from us, and never diſcovers itſelf in any of the ſenſible Qualities of Body. We know, [105] that, in fact, Heat is a conſtant Attendant of Flame; but what is the Connexion betwixt them, we have no room ſo much as to conjecture or imagine. 'Tis im⯑poſſible, therefore, that the Idea of Power can be de⯑riv'd from the Contemplation of Bodies, in ſingle In⯑ſtances of their Operation; becauſe no Bodies ever diſ⯑cover any Power, which can be the Original of this Idea*.
SINCE, therefore, external Objects, as they ap⯑pear to the Senſes, give us no Idea of Power or ne⯑ceſſary Connexion, by their Operations in particular Inſtances; let us ſee, if this Idea be deriv'd from Re⯑flection on the Operations of our own Minds, and be copy'd from any internal Impreſſion. It may be ſaid, that we are every Moment conſcious of Power in our own Minds, while we feel, that, by the ſimple Com⯑mand of our Will, we can move the Organs of our Body, or direct the Faculties of our Minds, in their Operation. An Act of Volition produces Motion in our Limbs, or raiſes a new Idea in our Imagination. [106] This Influence of the Will we know by Conſciouſneſs. Hence we acquire the Idea of Power or Energy; and are certain, that we ourſelves and all other intelligent Beings are poſſeſs'd of Power. The Operations and mutual Influence of Bodies are, perhaps, ſufficient to prove, that they alſo are poſſeſs'd of it. However this may be, the Idea of Power muſt certainly be al⯑low'd to be an Idea of Reflection, ſince it ariſes from reflecting on the Operations of our own Minds, and on the Command, which is exercis'd by Will over the Organs of the Body and Faculties of the Mind.
WE ſhall proceed to examine this Pretenſion, and ſhall endeavour to avoid, as far as we are able, all Jargon and Confuſion, in treating of ſuch ſubtile and ſuch profound Subjects.
I ASSERT, then, in the firſt Place, that the Influ⯑ence of Volition over the Organs of the Body, is a Fact, which, like all other natural Operations, could be known only by Experience, and could never be foreſeen from any apparent Energy or Power in the Cauſe, which connects it with the Effect, and renders the one a neceſſary Conſequence of the other. The Motions of our Body follow upon the Command of our Will. This we are every Moment conſcious of: But the Means, by which this is effected; the Ener⯑gy, by which the Will performs ſo extraordinary an [107] Operation; this we are ſo far from being immediately conſcious of, that it muſt for ever eſcape our moſt di⯑ligent Search and Enquiry.
FOR firſt; Is there any Principle in all Nature more myſterious than the Union of the Soul with the Body; by which a ſuppos'd ſpiritual Subſtance acquires ſuch an Influence over a material one, that the moſt refin'd Thought is able to actuate the groſſeſt Body? Were we empower'd, by a ſecret Wiſh, to remove Moun⯑tains, or controul the Planets in their Orbits; this extenſive Authority over Matter would not be more extraordinary, nor more beyond the Bounds of our Comprehenſion. But if by Conſciouſneſs we per⯑ceiv'd any Power or Energy in the Will, we muſt know this Power; we muſt know its Connexion with the Effect; we muſt know the ſecret Union of Soul and Body, and the Nature of both theſe Subſtances; by which the one is able to operate, in ſo many In⯑ſtances, upon the other.
Secondly, We are not able to move all the Organs of the Body with a like Authority; tho' we cannot aſ⯑ſign any other Reaſon, beſides Experience, for ſo re⯑markable a Difference betwixt the one and the other. Why has the Will an Influence over the Tongue and Fingers, and not over the Heart or Liver? This Que⯑ſtion would never embarraſs us, were we conſcious [108] of a Power in the former Caſe, and not in the latter. We ſhould, then, perceive, independent of Expe⯑rience, why the Authority of Will over the Organs of the Body is circumſcrib'd within ſuch particular Li⯑mits. Being in that Caſe fully acquainted with the Power or Force, by which it operates, we ſhould alſo know, why its Influence reaches preciſely to ſuch Boundaries, and no farther.
A MAN, ſtruck ſuddenly with a Palſy in the Leg or Arm, or who had newly loſt thoſe Members, fre⯑quently endeavours, at firſt, to move them, and em⯑ploy them to their uſual Offices. Here he is as much conſcious of Power to command ſuch Limbs, as a Man in perfect Health is to actuate any Member, which remains in its natural State and Condition. But Conſciouſneſs never deceives. Conſequently, neither in the one Caſe nor the other, are we ever conſcious of any Power. We only learn the Influence of our Will from Experience. And Experience only teaches us, how one Event conſtantly follows another, with⯑out inſtructing us in the ſecret Connexion, which binds them together, and renders them inſeparable.
Thirdly, We learn from Anatomy, that the imme⯑diate Object of Power in voluntary Motion, is not the Member itſelf, which is mov'd, but certain Muſcles, and Nerves, and animal Spirits, and perhaps, ſome⯑thing [109] ſtill more minute and more unknown, thro' which the Motion is ſucceſſively propagated, 'ere it reach the Member itſelf, whoſe Motion is the imme⯑diate Object of Volition. Can there be a more certain Proof, that the Power, by which this whole Opera⯑tion is perform'd, ſo far from being directly and fully known by an inward Sentiment or Conſciouſneſs, is, to the laſt degree, myſterious and unintelligible? Here the Mind wills a certain Event: Immediately, another Event, unknown to ourſelves, and totally different from that intended, is produc'd: This Event pro⯑duces another, equally unknown: Till at laſt, thro' a long Succeſſion, the deſir'd Event is produc'd. But if the original Power were felt, it muſt be known: Were it known, its Effect muſt alſo be known; ſince all Power is relative to its Effect. And vice verſa, if the Effect be not known, the Power cannot be known or felt. How indeed can we be conſcious of a Power to move our Limbs, when we have no ſuch Power; but only that to move certain animal Spirits, which, tho' they produce at laſt the Motion of our Limbs, yet operate in a Manner, that is altogether beyond our Comprehenſion?
WE may, therefore, conclude from the whole, I hope, without any Temerity, tho' with Aſſurance; that our Idea of Power is not copy'd from any Senti⯑ment [110] or Conſciouſneſs of Power within ourſelves, when we give riſe to animal Motion, or apply our Limbs to their proper Uſe and Office. That their Motion follows the Command of the Will is a Matter of common Experience, like other natural Events: But the Power or Energy, by which this is effected, like that in other natural Events, is unknown and in⯑conceivable*.
SHALL we then aſſert, that we are conſcious of a Power or Energy in our own Minds, when, by an Act or Command of our Will, we raiſe up a new Idea, fix the Mind to a Contemplation of it, turn it on all [111] Sides, and at laſt diſmiſs it for ſome other Idea, when we think, that we have ſurvey'd it with ſufficient Ac⯑curacy? I believe the ſame Arguments will prove, that even this Command of the Will gives us no real I⯑dea of Force or Energy.
Firſt, It muſt be allow'd, that when we know a Power, we know that very Circumſtance in the Cauſe, by which it is enabled to produce the Effect: For theſe are ſuppos'd to be ſynonimous. We muſt, there⯑fore, know both the Cauſe and Effect, and the Re⯑lation betwixt the one and the other. But do we pre⯑tend to be acquainted with the Nature of the human Soul and the Nature of an Idea, or the Aptitude of the one to produce the other? This is a real Creation; a Production of ſomething out of nothing: Which implies a Power ſo great, that it may ſeem, at firſt Sight, beyond the Reach of any Being, leſs than infi⯑nite. At leaſt, it muſt be own'd, that ſuch a Power is not felt, nor known, nor even conceivable by the Mind. We only feel the Event, viz. the Exiſtence of an Idea, conſequent to a Command of the Will: But the Manner, by which this Operation is per⯑ſorm'd; the Power, by which it is produc'd; is en⯑tirely beyond our Comprehenſion.
Secondly, The Command of the Mind over itſelf is limited, as well as its Command over the Body; and [112] theſe Limitations are not known by Reaſon, or any Contemplation of the Nature of the Cauſe and the Effect; but only by Experience and Obſervation, as in all other natural Events and in the Operation of external Objects. Our Authority over our Sentiments and Paſſions is much weaker than that over our I⯑deas; and even the latter Authority is circumſcrib'd within very narrow Limits. Will any one pretend to aſſign the ultimate Reaſon of theſe Limits, or ſnow why the Power is deficient in one Caſe and not in an⯑other?
Thirdly, This Self-command is very different at different Times. A Man in Health poſſeffes more of it, than one languiſhing with Sickneſs. We are more Maſters of our Thoughts in the Morning than in the Evening: Faſting, than after a full Meal. Can we give any Reaſon for theſe Variations, except Expe⯑rience? Where then is the Power, of which we pre⯑tend to be conſcious? Is there not here ſome ſecret Mechaniſm or Structure of Parts, either in a ſpiritual or material Subſtance or both, upon which the Effect depends, and which being altogether unknown to us, renders the Power or Energy of the Will equally un⯑known and incomprehenſible?
VOLITION is ſurely an Act of the Mind, with which we are ſufficiently acquainted. Reflect upon it. [113] Conſider it on all Sides. Do you find any thing in it like this creative Power, by which it raiſes from no⯑thing a new Idea, and by a kind of FIAT, imitates the Omnipotence of its Maker, if I may be allow'd ſo to ſpeak, who call'd forth into Exiſtence all the various Scenes of Nature? So far from being conſcious of this Energy in the Will, it requires as certain Expe⯑rience, as that which we are poſſeſs'd of in the Caſe, to convince us, that ſuch extraordinary Effects do ever reſult from a ſimple Act of Volition.
THE Generality of Mankind never find any Diffi⯑culty in accounting for the more common and fa⯑miliar Operations of Nature; ſuch as the Deſcent of heavy Bodies, the Growth of Plants, the Generation of Animals, or the Nouriſhment of Bodies by Food; but ſuppoſe, that, in all theſe Caſes, they perceive the very Force and Energy of the Cauſe, by which it is connected with its Effect, and is for ever infallible in its Operation. They acquire, by long Habit, ſuch a Turn of Mind, that, upon the Appearance of the Cauſe, they immediately expect with Aſſurance its u⯑ſual Attendant, and hardly conceive it poſſible, that any other Event could reſult from it. 'Tis only on the Diſcovery of extraordinary Phaenomena, ſuch as Earthquakes, Peſtilences, and Prodigies of any Kind, that they find themſelves at a Loſs to aſſign a proper Cauſe, and to explain the Manner, in which the Ef⯑fect [114] is produc'd by it. 'Tis uſual for Men, in ſuch Difficulties, to have recourſe to ſome inviſible, intel⯑ligent Principle, (quaſi Deus ex machina) as the im⯑mediate Cauſe of that Event, which ſurpriſes them, and which, they think, cannot be accounted for from the common Powers of Nature. But Philoſophers, who carry their Scrutiny a little farther, immediately perceive, that, even in the moſt familiar Events, the Energy of the Cauſe is as unintelligible as in the moſt extraordinary and unuſual, and that we only learn by Experience the frequent CONJUNCTION of one Object with another, without being ever able to comprehend any thing like CONNEXION betwixt them. Here then many Philoſophers think themſelves oblig'd by Reaſon to have recourſe, on all Occaſions, to the ſame Prin⯑ciple, which the Vulgar never appeal to but in Caſes, that appear miraculous and ſupernatural. They ac⯑knowledge Mind and Intelligence to be, not only the ultimate and original Cauſe of all Things, but the im⯑mediate and ſole Cauſe of every Event, that appears in Nature. They pretend, that thoſe Objects, which are commonly denominated Cauſes, are in Reality no⯑thing but Occaſions; and that the true and direct Prin⯑ciple of every Effect is not any Power or Force in Na⯑ture, but a Volition of the ſupreme Being, who wills, that ſuch particular Objects ſhould be for ever conjoin'd with each other. Inſtead of ſaying, that one Billiard-Ball moves another, by a Force, which it has deriv'd [115] from the Author of Nature; 'tis the Deity himſelf, they ſay, who, by a particular Volition, moves the ſecond Ball, being determin'd to this Operation by the Impulſe of the firſt Ball; in Conſequence of thoſe general Laws, which he has laid down to himſelf in the Government of the Univerſe. But Philoſophers, advancing ſtill in their Enquiries, diſcover, that, as we are totally ignorant of the Power, on which de⯑pends the mutual Operation of Bodies, we are no leſs ignorant of that Power, on which depends the Operation of Mind on Body, or of Body on Mind; nor are we able, either from our Senſes or Conſciouſneſs, to aſſign the ultimate Principle, in the one Caſe more than in the other. The ſame Igno⯑rance, therefore, reduces them to the ſame Conclu⯑ſion. They aſſert, that the Deity is the immediate Cauſe of the Union betwixt Soul and Body, and that they are not the Organs of Senſe, which, being agi⯑tated by external Objects, produce Senſations in the Mind; but that 'tis a particular Volition of our om⯑nipotent Maker, which excites ſuch a Senſation, in Conſequence of ſuch a Motion in the Organ. In like manner, it is not any Energy in the Will, that pro⯑duces local Motion in our Members: 'Tis God him⯑ſelf, who is pleas'd to ſecond our Will, in itſelf impo⯑tent, and to command that Motion, which we erro⯑neouſly attribute to our own Power and Efficacy. Nor do Philoſophers ſtop at this Concluſion. They ſome⯑times [116] apply the ſame Inferences to the Mind itſelf, in its internal Operations. Our mental Viſion or Con⯑ception of Ideas is nothing but a Revelation made to us by our Maker. When we voluntarily turn our Thoughts to any Object, and raiſe up its Image in the Fancy; it is not the Will, which creates that Idea: 'Tis the univerſal Creator of all Things, who diſco⯑vers it to the Mind, and renders it preſent to us.
THUS, according to theſe Philoſophers, every Thing is full of God. Not contented with the Principle, that nothing exiſts but by his Will, that nothing poſ⯑ſeſſes any Power but by his Conceſſion: They [...] Nature, and all created Beings of every Power, in or⯑der to render their Dependance on the Deity ſtill more ſenſible and immediate. They conſider not, that by this Theory they diminiſh, inſtead of magnifying, the Grandeur of thoſe Attributes, which they affect ſo much to celebrate. It argues ſurely more Power in the Deity to delegate a certain Degree of Power to his inferior Creatures than to operate every Thing by his immediate Volition. It argues more Wiſdom to con⯑trive at firſt the Fabric of the World with ſuch perfect Foreſight, that, of itſelf, and by its own proper Ope⯑ration, it may ſerve all the Purpoſes of Providence, than if the great Creator were oblig'd every Moment to adjuſt its Parts, and animate by his Breath all the Wheels of that ſtupendous Machine.
[117] BUT if we would have a more philoſophical Con⯑futation of this Theory, perhaps the two following Reflections may ſuffice.
Firſt, It ſeems to me, that this Theory, of the u⯑niverſal Energy and Operation of the ſupreme Being, is too bold ever to carry Conviction with it to a Man, who is ſufficiently appriz'd of the Weakneſs of human Reaſon, and the narrow Limits, to which it is con⯑fin'd in all its Operations. Tho' the Chain of Argu⯑ments, that lead to it, were ever ſo concluſive and lo⯑gical, there muſt ariſe a ſtrong Supicion, if not an ab⯑ſolute Aſſurance, that it has led us quite beyond the Reach of our Faculties, when it eſtabliſhes Conclu⯑ſions ſo extraordinary, and ſo remote from common Life and Experience. We are got into Fairy-land, long ere we have reach'd the laſt Steps of our Theory; and there we have no Reaſon to truſt our common Methods of Argument, or think that our uſual Analo⯑gies and Probabilities have any Weight or Authority. Our Line is too ſhort to fathom ſuch immenſe Abyſſes. And however we may flatter ourſelves, that we are guided in every Step we take by a kind of Veriſimili⯑tude and Experience; we may be aſſur'd, that this fancy'd Experience has no Authority, when we thus apply it to Subjects, that lie entirely out of the Sphere [118] of Experience. But on this we ſhall have Occaſion to touch afterwards*.
Secondly, I cannot perceive any Force in the Ar⯑guments, on which this Theory is founded. We are ignorant, 'tis true, of the Manner, in which Bodies operate on each other: Their Force or Energy is en⯑tirely incomprehenſible. But are we not equally ig⯑norant of the Manner or Force, by which a Mind, even the ſupreme Mind, operates either on itſelf or on Body? Whence, I beſeech you, do we acquire any Idea of it? We have no Sentiment or Con⯑ſciouſneſs of this Power in ourſelves: We have no Idea of the ſupreme Being, but what we learn from Reflection on our own Faculties. Were our Igno⯑rance, therefore, a good Reaſon for our rejecting any Thing, we ſhould be led into that Principle of refuſing all Energy to the ſupreme Being as much as to the groſſeſt Matter. We ſurely comprehend as little the Operations of the one as of the other. Is it more diffi⯑cult to conceive, that Motion may ariſe from Impulſe, than that it may ariſe from Volition? All we know is our profound Ignorance in both Caſes†.
BUT to haſten to a Concluſion of this Argument, which is already drawn out to too great a Length: We have ſought, in vain, for an Idea of Power or ne⯑ceſſary Connexion in all the Sources, from which we could ſuppoſe it to be deriv'd. It appears, that, in [120] ſingle Inſtances of the Operation of Bodies, we never can, by our outmoſt Scrutiny, diſcover any Thing but one Event following another, without being able to comprehend any Force or Power, by which the Cauſe operates, or any Connexion betwixt it and its ſuppos'd Effect. The ſame Difficulty occurs in con⯑templating the Operations of Mind on Body; where we obſerve the Motion of the latter to follow upon the Volition of the former; but are not able to obſerve or conceive the Tye, which binds them together, or the Energy, by which the Mind produces this Effect. The Authority of the Will over our own Faculties and Ideas is not a whit more comprehenſible: So that upon the whole, there appears not, thro' all Nature, any one Inſtance of Connexion, that is conceivable by us: All Events ſeem entirely looſe and ſeparate. One Event follows another; but we never can obſerve any Tye betwixt them: They ſeem conjoin'd, but never connected. And as we can have no Idea of any Thing, that never appear'd to our outward Senſe or inward Sentiment, the neceſſary Concluſion ſeems to be, that we have no Idea of Connexion or Power at all, and that theſe Words are abſolutely without any Meaning, when employ'd either in philoſophical Reaſonings, or common Life.
BUT we have ſtill one Method of avoiding this Concluſion, and one Source, which we have not yet [121] examin'd. When any natural Object or Event is pre⯑ſented, 'tis impoſſible for us, by any Sagacity or Pe⯑netration, to diſcover, or even conjecture, without Experience, what Event will reſult from it, or to carry our Foreſight beyond thoſe Objects, which are immediately preſent to the Memory and Senſes. Even after one Inſtance or Experiment, where we have obſerv'd a particular Event to follow upon an⯑other, we are not entitled to form a general Rule, or foretel what will happen in like Caſes; it being juſtly eſteem'd an unpardonable Raſhneſs and Temerity to judge of the whole Courſe of Nature from one ſingle Experiment, however accurate or certain. But when one particular Species of Events has always, in all In⯑ſtances, been conjoin'd with another, we make no longer any Scruple to foretell the one upon the Ap⯑pearance of the other, and to employ that Reaſoning, which can alone aſſure us of any Matter of Fact or Exiſtence. We then call the one Object, Cauſe; and the other, Effect: We ſuppoſe, that there is ſome Connexion betwixt them; ſome Power in the one, by which it infallibly produces the other, and operates with the greateſt Certainty and ſtrongeſt Ne⯑ceſſity.
[122] IT appears, then, that this Idea of a neceſſary Con⯑nexion amongſt Objects or Events ariſes from a Num⯑ber of ſimilar Inſtances of the conſtant Conjunction of theſe Events, and can never be ſuggeſted by any one of theſe Inſtances, ſurvey'd in all poſſible Lights and Poſitions. But what is there in a Number of Inſtances, different from every ſingle Inſtance, which is ſuppos'd to be exactly ſimilar? Nothing but this, that after a Repetition of ſimilar Inſtances, the Mind is carry'd by Habit, upon the Appearance of one Event, to expect its uſual Attendant, and to believe, that it will exiſt. This Connexion, therefore, which we feel in the Mind, or cuſtomary Tranſition of the Imagination from one Object to its uſual Attendant, is the only Sentiment or Impreſſion, from which we form the Idea of Power or neceſſary Connexion. Nothing farther is in the Caſe. Contemplate the Subject on all Sides, you will never find any other Origin of this Idea. There is no other Difference betwixt one In⯑ſtance, from which we never can receive the Idea of Connexion, and a Number of ſimilar Inſtances, by which it is ſuggeſted. The firſt Time a Man ſaw the Communication of Motion by Impulſe, as by the Shock of two Billiard-balls, he could not pronounce that the one Effect was connected; but only that it was conjoin'd, with the other. After he has obſerv'd ſe⯑veral [123] Inſtances of this Nature, he then pronounces them to be connected. What Alteration has happen'd to give riſe to this new Idea of Connexion? Nothing but this, that he now feels theſe Events to be connected in his Imagination, and can readily foretell the Ex⯑iſtence of the one from the Appearance of the other. When, therefore, we ſay, that one Object is connected with another, we mean only, that they have acquir'd a Connexion in our Thoughts, and give riſe to this Inference, by which they become Proofs of each o⯑ther's Exiſtence. A Concluſion, which is ſomewhat extraordinary; but which ſeems founded on ſufficient Evidence. Nor will its Evidence be weakned by any general Diffidence of the Underſtanding, or ſceptical Suſpicion concerning every Concluſion, that is new and extraordinary. No Concluſion can be more agreeable to Scepticiſm than ſuch as make Diſcoveries concern⯑ing the Weakneſs and narrow Limitations of human Reaſon and Capacity.
AND what ſtronger Inſtance can be produc'd of the ſurprizing Ignorance and Weakneſs of the Underſtand⯑ing, than the preſent? For ſurely, if there be any Relation among Objects, which it imports us to know perfectly, 'tis that of Cauſe and Effect. On this are founded all our Reaſonings concerning Matter of Fact [124] or Exiſtence. By Means of it alone we attain any Aſſurance concerning Objects, that are remov'd from the preſent Teſtimony of our Memory and Senſes. The only immediate Utility of all Science is to teach us, how to controul and regulate future Events by their Cauſes. Our Thoughts and Enquiries are, there⯑fore, every Moment employ'd concerning this Re⯑lation. And yet ſo imperfect are the Ideas we form concerning it, that 'tis impoſſible to give any juſt De⯑finition of Cauſe, except what is drawn from ſome⯑thing extraneous and foreign to it. Similar Objects are always conjoin'd with ſimilar. Of this we have Experience. Suitable to this Experience, therefore, we may define a Cauſe to be an Object, follow'd by another, and where all the Objects, ſimilar to the firſt, are follow'd by Objects, ſimilar to the ſecond. The Ap⯑pearance of a Cauſe does always convey the Mind, by a cuſtomary Tranſition, to the Idea of the Effect. Of this alſo we have Experience. We may, there⯑fore, ſuitable to this Experience, form another Defi⯑nition of Cauſe, and call it, an Object, follow'd by an⯑other, and whoſe Appearance always conveys the Thought to that other. But tho' both theſe Definitions be drawn from Circumſtances, foreign to the Cauſe, we cannot remedy this Inconvenience, or attain any more perfect Definition, which may point out that Circumſtance in the Cauſe, which gives it a Connexion with its Effect. [125] We have no Idea of this Connexion; nor even any Notion what it is we deſire to know, when we endea⯑vour at a Conception of it. We ſay, for Inſtance, that the Vibration of this String is the Cauſe of this particular Sound. But what do we mean by that Af⯑firmation? We either mean, that this Vibration is fol⯑low'd by this Sound, and that all ſimilar Vibrations have been follow'd by ſimilar Sounds: Or, that this Vibra⯑tion is follow'd by this Sound, and that upon the Ap⯑pearance of the one, the Mind anticipates the Senſes, and forms immediately an Idea of the other. We may con⯑ſider the Relation of Cauſe and Effect in either of theſe two Lights; but beyond theſe, we have no Idea of it.
To recapitulate, therefore, the Reaſonings of this Eſſay: Every Idea is copy'd from ſome preceding Im⯑preſſion or Sentiment; and where we cannot find any Impreſſion, we may be certain there is no Idea. In all ſingle Inſtances of the Operation of Bodies or Minds, there is nothing that produces any Impreſſion, nor conſequently can ſuggeſt any Idea of Power or neceſſary Connexion. But when many uniform In⯑ſtances appear, and the ſame Object is always follow'd by the ſame Event; we then begin to entertain the Notion of Cauſe and Connexion. We then feel a [126] new Sentiment or Impreſſion, viz. a cuſtomary Con⯑nexion in the Thought or Imagination betwixt one Object and its uſual Attendant; and this Sentiment is the Original of that Idea we ſeek for. For as this Idea ariſes from a Number of ſimilar Inſtances, and not from any ſingle Inſtance; it muſt ariſe from that Circumſtance, in which the Number of Inſtances dif⯑fer from every individual Inſtance. But this cuſto⯑mary Connexion or Tranſition of the Imagination is the only Circumſtance, in which they differ. In every other particular, they are alike. The firſt In⯑ſtance we ſaw of Motion, communicated by the Shock of two Billiard-balls (to return to this obvious Inſtance) is exactly ſimilar to any one, that may, at preſent, occur to us; except only, that we could not, at firſt, infer the one Event from the other; which we are enabled to do at preſent, after ſo long a Courſe of uniform Experience. I know not, if the Reader will readily apprehend this Reaſoning. I am afraid, that, ſhould I multiply Words about it, or throw it into a greater Variety of Lights, it would only become more obſcure and intricate. In all abſtract Rea⯑ſonings, there is one Point of View, which, if we can happily hit, we ſhall go farther towards il⯑luſtrating the Subject, than by all the Eloquence and copious Expreſſion of the World. This we [127] ſhould endeavour to attain, and reſerve the Flowers of Rhetoric for Subjects, that are more adapted to them.
IT might reaſonably be expected, that, in Que⯑ſtions, which have been canvaſs'd and diſputed with great Eagerneſs ſince the firſt Origin of Science and Philoſophy, the Meaning of all the Terms, at leaſt, ſhould have been agreed upon among the Diſ⯑putants; and our Enquiries, in the Courſe of two thouſand Years, been able to paſs from Words to the true and real Subject of the Controverſy. For how eaſy may it ſeem to give exact Definitions of the Terms employ'd in Reaſoning, and make theſe Defi⯑nitions, not the mere Sound of Words, the Object of future Scrutiny and Examination! But if we conſider the Matter more narrowly, we ſhall be apt to draw a quite oppoſite Concluſion. From that Circumſtance alone, that a Controverſy has been long kept afoot, [130] and remains ſtill undecided, we may preſume, that there is ſome Ambiguity in the Expreſſion, and that the Diſputants affix different Ideas to the Terms em⯑ploy'd in the Controverſy. For as the Faculties of the Soul are ſuppos'd to be naturally alike in all Men; otherwiſe nothing could be more fruitleſs than to reaſon or diſpute together; 'twere impoſſible, if they affix'd the ſame Ideas to their Terms, they could ſo long form different Opinions of the ſame Subject; eſpecially when they communicate their Views, and each Party turn themſelves on all Sides, in Search of Arguments, which may give them the Victory over their Antagoniſts. 'Tis true; if they attempt the Diſcuſſion of Queſtions, that lie entirely beyond the Reach of human Capacity, ſuch as thoſe concerning the Origin of Worlds, or the Oeconomy of the in⯑tellectual Syſtem or Region of Spirits, they may long beat the Air in their fruitleſs Conteſts, and never ar⯑rive at any determinate Concluſion. But if the Que⯑ſtion regard any Subject of common Life and Expe⯑rience; nothing, one would think, could preſerve the Diſpute ſo long undecided, but ſome ambiguous Ex⯑preſſions, which keep the Antagoniſts ſtill at a Di⯑ſtance, and hinder them from grappling with each other.
THIS has been the Caſe in the long-diſputed Que⯑ſtion concerning Liberty and Neceſſity; and to ſo re⯑markable [131] a Degree, that, If I be not much miſtaken, we ſhall find all Mankind, both learned and ignorant, to have been always of the ſame Opinion with regard to that Subject, and that a few intelligible Definitions would immediately have put an end to the whole Con⯑troverſy. I own, that this Diſpute has been ſo much canvaſs'd on all hands, and has led Philoſophers into ſuch a Labyrinth of obſcure Sophyſtry, that 'tis no Wonder, if a ſenſible and polite Reader indulge his Eaſe ſo far as to turn a deaf Ear to the Propoſal of ſuch a Queſtion, from which he can expect neither Inſtruction nor Entertainment. But the State of the Argument here propoſed may, perhaps, ſerve to re⯑new his Attention, as it has more Novelty, promiſes, at leaſt, ſome Deciſion of the Controverſy, and will not much diſturb his Eaſe, by any intricate or obſcure Reaſoning.
I HOPE, therefore, to make appear, that all Men have ever agreed in the Doctrines both of Neceſſity, and of Liberty, according to any reaſonable Senſe, that can be put on theſe Expreſſions; and that the whole Controverſy has hitherto turn'd merely upon Words. We ſhall begin with examining the Doctrine of Neceſſity.
'Tis univerſally allow'd, that Matter, in all its Operations, is actuated by a neceſſary Force, and that [132] every Effect is ſo preciſely determin'd by the Nature and Energy of its Cauſe, that no other Effect, in ſuch particular Circumſtances, could poſſibly have reſulted from the Operation of that Cauſe. The Degree and Direction of every Motion is, by the Laws of Nature, preſcrib'd with ſuch Exactneſs, that a living Creature may as ſoon ariſe from the Shock of two Bodies, as Motion in any other Degree or Direction, than what is actually produc'd by it. Would we, therefore, form a juſt and preciſe Idea of Neceſſity, we muſt con⯑ſider, whence that Idea ariſes, when we apply it to the Operation of Bodies.
IT ſeems evident, that, if all the Scenes of Nature were ſhifted continually in ſuch a Manner, that no two Events bore any Reſemblance to each other, but every Object was entirely new, without any Similitude to whatever had been ſeen before, we ſhould never, in that Caſe, have attain'd the leaſt Idea of Neceſſity, or of a Connexion amongſt theſe Objects. We might ſay, upon ſuch a Suppoſition, that one Object or E⯑vent has follow'd another; not that one was produc'd by the other. The Relation of Cauſe and Effect muſt be utterly unknown to Mankind. Inference and Rea⯑ſoning concerning the Operations of Nature would, from that Moment, be at an End; and the Memory and Senſes remain the only Canals, by which the Knowledge of any real Exiſtence could poſſibly have acceſs to the Mind. Our Idea, therefore, of Neceſ⯑ſity [133] and Cauſation ariſes entirely from that Unifor⯑mity, obſervable in the Operations of Nature; where ſimilar Objects are conſtantly conjoin'd together, and the Mind is determin'd by Cuſtom to infer the one from the Appearance of the other. Theſe two Cir⯑cumſtances form the whole of that Neceſſity, which we aſcribe to Matter. Beyond the conſtant Conjunc⯑tion of ſimilar Objects, and the conſequent Inference from one to the other, we have no Notion of any Ne⯑ceſſity or Connexion.
IF it appear, therefore, that all Mankind have ever allow'd, without any Doubt or Heſitation, that theſe two Circumſtances, take place in the voluntary Actions of Men, and in the Operations of the Mind; it muſt follow, that all Mankind have ever agreed in the Doctrine of Neceſſity, and that they have hitherto diſputed, merely for Want of underſtanding each other.
As to the firſt Circumſtance, the conſtant and regu⯑lar Conjunction of ſimilar Events; we may poſſibly ſatisfy ourſelves by the following Conſiderations. It is univerſally acknowledg'd, that there is a great Uniformity amongſt the Actions of Men, in all Na⯑tions and Ages, and that human Nature remains ſtill the ſame, in its Principles and Operations. The ſame Motives produce always the ſame Actions: The ſame [134] Events follow from the ſame Cauſes. Ambition, Avarice, Self-love, Vanity, Friendſhip, Generoſity, public Spirit; theſe Paſſions, mix'd in various De⯑grees, and diſtributed thro' Society, have been, from the Beginning of the World, and ſtill are, the Sources of all the Actions and Enterprizes, that have ever been obſerv'd amongſt Mankind. Would you know the Sentiments, Inclinations, and Courſe of Life of the Greeks and Romans? Study well the Temper and Actions of the French and Engliſh. You cannot be much miſtaken in transferring to the former moſt of the Obſervations you have made with regard to the latter. Mankind are ſo much the ſame, in all Times and Places, that Hiſtory informs us of nothing new or ſtrange in this particular. Its chief Uſe is only to diſ⯑cover the conſtant and univerſal Principles of human Nature, by ſhewing Men in all Varieties of Circum⯑ſtances and Situations, and furniſhing us with Mate⯑rials, from which we may form our Obſervations, and become acquainted with the regular Springs of human Action and Behaviour. Theſe Records of Wars, In⯑trigues, Factions, and Revolutions are ſo many Col⯑lections of Experiments, by which the Politician or moral Philoſopher fixes the Principles of his Science; in the ſame Manner as the Phyſician or natural Phi⯑loſopher becomes acquainted with the Nature of Plants, Minerals, and other external Objects, by the Experiments, which he forms concerning them. Nor are the Earth, Water, and other Elements, examin'd [135] by Ariſtctle, and Hypocrates, more like thoſe, which at preſent lie under our Obſervation, than the Men, deſcrib'd by Polybius and Tacitus, are to thoſe who now govern the World.
SHOULD a Traveller, returning from a far Coun⯑try, bring us an Account of Men, entirely different from any we were ever acquainted with; Men, who were entirely diveſted of Avarice, Ambition, or Re⯑venge; who knew no Pleaſure but Friendſhip, Gene⯑roſity, and public Spirit; we ſhould immediately, from theſe Circumſtances, detect the Falſhood, and prove him a Liar, with the ſame Certainty as if he had ſtuff'd his Narration with Stories of Centaurs and Dragons, Miracles and Prodigies. And if we would explode any Forgery in Hiſtory, we cannot make uſe of a more convincing Argument, than to prove, that the Actions, aſcrib'd to any Perſon, are directly con⯑trary to the Courſe of Nature, and that no human Motives, in ſuch Circumſtances, could ever induce him to ſuch a Conduct. The Veracity of Quintus Curtius is as ſuſpicious, when he deſcribes the ſuper⯑natural Courage of Alexander, by which he was hur⯑ry'd on ſingly to attack Multitudes, as when he de⯑ſcribes his ſupernatural Force and Activity, by which he was able to reſiſt them. So readily and univerſally do we acknowledge a Uniformity in human Motives and Actions as well as in the Operations of Body.
[136] HENCE likewiſe the Benefit of that Experience, acquir'd by a long Life and a Variety of Buſineſs and Company, in order to inſtruct us in the Principles of human Nature, and regulate our future Conduct, as well as Speculation. By Means of this Guide, we mount up to the Knowledge of Mens Inclinations and Motives, from their Actions, Expreſſions, and even Geſtures; and again, deſcend to the Interpreta⯑tion of their Actions from the Knowledge of their Motives and Inclinations. The general Obſervations, treaſur'd up by a Courſe of Practice and Experience, give us the Clue of human Nature, and teach us to unravel all its Labyrinths and Intricacies. Pretexts and Appearances no longer deceive us. Public De⯑clarations paſs for the ſpecious Colouring of a Cauſe: And tho' Virtue and Honour be allow'd their proper Weight and Authority, that perfect Diſintereſtedneſs, ſo often pretended, is never expected in Multitudes and Parties; ſeldom in their Leaders; and ſcarcely even in Individuals of any Rank or Station. But were there no Uniformity in human Actions, and were every Experiment we could form of this Kind irregular and anomolous, 'twere impoſſible to collect any general Obſervations concerning Mankind; and no Experience, however accurately digeſted by Re⯑flection, would ever ſerve to any Purpoſe. Why is the antient Huſbandman more ſkilful in his Calling than the young Beginner, but becauſe there is a cer⯑tain [137] Uniformity in the Operation of the Sun, Rain, and Earth, towards the Production of Vegetables; and Experience teaches the old Practitioner the Rules, by which this Operation is govern'd and directed?
WE muſt not, however, expect, that this Unifor⯑mity of human Actions ſhould be carry'd ſuch a Length, as that all Men, in the ſame Circumſtances, ſhould always act preciſely in the ſame Manner, with⯑out any Allowance for the Diverſity of Characters, Prejudices, and Opinions. Such a Uniformity, in every Particular, is found in no Part of Nature. On the contrary, from obſerving the Variety of Conduct and Behaviour in different Men, we are enabled to form a greater Variety of Rules and Maxims, which ſtill ſuppoſe a Degree of Uniformity and Regula⯑rity.
ARE the Manners of Men different in different Ages and Countries? We learn thence the great Force of Cuſtom and Education, which mold the human Mind from its Infancy, and form it into a fix'd and eſtabliſh'd Character. Is the Behaviour and Conduct of the one Sex very unlike that of the other? 'Tis from thence we become acquainted with the different Characters, which Nature has impreſs'd upon the Sexes, and which ſhe preſerves with Conſtancy and Regularity. Are the Actions of the ſame Perſon much diverſify'd in the different Periods of his Life, from Infancy to old [138] Age? This affords Room for many general Obſerva⯑tions concerning the gradual Change of our Senti⯑ments and Inclinations, and the different Maxims, which prevail in the different Ages of human Crea⯑tures. Even the Characters which are peculiar to each Individual, have a Conſtancy and Uniformity in their Influence, otherwiſe our Acquaintance with the Perſons, and our Obſervations of their Conduct could never teach us their Diſpoſitions, nor ſerve to direct our Behaviour with regard to them.
I GRANT it poſſible to find ſome Actions, which ſeem to have no regular or uniform Connexion with any known Motives, and are Exceptions to all the Meaſures of Conduct, which have ever been eſtabliſh'd for the Government of Men. But if we would wil⯑lingly know, what Judgment ſhould be form'd of ſuch irregular and extraordinary Actions; we may conſider the Sentiments that are commonly enter⯑tain'd with regard to thoſe irregular Events, which appear in the Courſe of Nature, and the Operations of external Objects. All Cauſes are not conjoin'd to their uſual Effects, with like Conſtancy and Unifor⯑mity. An Artificer, who handles only dead Matter, may be diſappointed of his Scope and Aim as well as the Politician, who directs the Conduct of ſenſible and intelligent Agents.
[139] THE Vulgar, who take Things according to their firſt Appearance, attribute the Uncertainty of Events to ſuch an Uncertainty in the Cauſes as makes them often fail of their uſual Influence; tho' they meet with no Obſtacle nor Impediment in their Operation. But Philoſophers, obſerving, that almoſt in every Part of Nature there is contain'd a vaſt Variety of Springs and Principles, which are hid, by reaſon of their Mi⯑nuteneſs or Remoteneſs, find, that 'tis at leaſt poſſible the Contrariety of Events may not proceed from any Contingency in the Cauſe, but from the ſecret Ope⯑ration of contrary Cauſes. This Poſſibility is con⯑verted into Certainty by farther Obſervation, when they remark, that, upon an exact Scrutiny, a Con⯑trariety of Effects always betrays a Contrariety of Cauſes, and proceeds from their mutual Hindrance and Oppoſition. A Peaſant can give no better Rea⯑ſon for the ſtopping of any Clock or Watch than to ſay it commonly does not go right: But an Artizan eaſily perceives, that the ſame Force in the Spring or Pendulum has always the ſame Influence on the Wheels; but fails of its uſual Effect, perhaps by Rea⯑ſon of a Grain of Duſt, which puts a ſtop to the whole Movement. From the Obſervation of ſeveral parallel Inſtances, Philoſophers form a Maxim, that the Con⯑nexion betwixt all Cauſes and Effects is equally neceſ⯑ſary, and that its ſeeming Uncertainty in ſome In⯑ſtances [140] proceeds from the ſecret Oppoſition of con⯑trary Cauſes.
THUS for Inſtance, in the human Body, when the uſual Symptoms of Health or Sickneſs diſappoint our Expectations; when Medicines operate not with their wonted Powers; when irregular Events follow from any particular Cauſes; the Philoſopher and Phyſician are not ſurpriz'd at the Matter, nor are ever tempted to deny, in general, the Neceſſity and Uniformity of thoſe Principles, by which the animal Ceconomy is conducted. They know, that a human Body is a mighty complicated Machine: That many ſecret Powers lurk in it, which are altogether beyond our Comprehenſion: That to us it muſt often appear very uncertain in its Operations: And that therefore the irregular Events, which outwardly diſcover them⯑ſelves, can be no Proof, that the Laws of Nature are not obſerv'd with the greateſt Strictneſs and Regula⯑rity in its internal Operations and Government.
THE Philoſopher, if he be conſiſtent, muſt apply the ſame Reaſonings to the Actions and Volitions of intelligent Agents. The moſt irregular and unex⯑pected Reſolutions of Men may frequently be ac⯑counted for by thoſe who know every particular Cir⯑cumſtance of their Character and Situation. A Perſon of an obliging Diſpoſition gives a peeviſh Anſwer: [141] But he has the Tooth-ake, or has not din'd. A ſtu⯑pid Fellow diſcovers an uncommon Alacrity in his Carriage: But he has met with a ſudden Piece of Good-fortune. Or even when an Action, as ſome⯑times happens, cannot be particularly accounted for, either by the Perſon himſelf or by others; we know, in general, that the Characters of Men are, to a cer⯑tain Degree, inconſtant and irregular. This is, in a Manner, the conſtant Character of human Nature; tho' it be applicable, in a more particular Manner, to ſome Perſons, who have no fix'd Rule for their Con⯑duct, but proceed in a continu'd Courſe of Caprice and Inconſtancy. The internal Principles and Mo⯑tives may operate in a uniform Manner, notwithſtand⯑ing theſe ſeeming Irregularities; in the ſame Manner as the Winds, Rain, Clouds, and other Variations of the Weather are ſuppos'd to be govern'd by ſteady Principles; tho' not eaſily diſcoverable by human Sa⯑gacity and Enquiry.
THUS it appears, not only that the Conjunction betwixt Motives and voluntary Actions is as regular and uniform, as that betwixt the Cauſe and Effect in any Part of Nature; but alſo that this regular Con⯑junction has been univerſally acknowledg'd amongſt Mankind, and has never been the Subject of Diſpute, either in Philoſophy or common Life. Now as it is from paſt Experience, that we draw all Inferences [142] concerning the future, and as we conclude, that Ob⯑jects will always be conjoin'd together, which we find always to have been conjoin'd; it may ſeem ſuper⯑fluous to prove, that this experienc'd Uniformity in human Actions is the Source of all the Inſerences we form concerning them. But in order to throw the Argument into a greater Variety of Lights, we ſhall alſo inſiſt, tho' briefly, on this latter Topic.
THE mutual Dependance of Men is ſo great, in all Societies, that ſcarce any human Action is en⯑tirely compleat in itſelf, or is perform'd without ſome Reference to the Actions of others, which are requi⯑ſite to make it anſwer fully the Intention of the Actor. The pooreſt Artificer, who labours alone, expects at leaſt the Protection of the Magiſtrate, to enſure the Enjoyment of the Fruits of his Labour. He alſo ex⯑pects, that, when he carries his Goods to Market, and offers them at a reaſonable Price, he ſhall find Buyers; and ſhall be able, by the Money he acquires, to en⯑gage others to ſupply him with thoſe Commodities, which are requiſite for his Subſiſtence. In Propor⯑tion as Mens Dealings are more extenſive, and their Intercourſe with others more complicated, they al⯑ways comprehend, in their Schemes of Life, a greater Variety of voluntary Actions, which they expect, from their proper Motives, to co-operate with their own. In all theſe Concluſions, they take their Mea⯑ſures [143] from paſt Experience, in the ſame Manner as in their Reaſonings concerning external Objects; and firmly believe, that Men, as well as all the Elements, are to continue, in their Operations, the ſame, which they have ever found them. A Manufacturere reckons upon the Labour of his Servants, for the Execution of any Work, as much as upon the Tools he employs, and would be equally ſurpriz'd, in the one Caſe, were his Expectations diſappointed, as in the other. In ſhort, this experimental Inference and Reaſoning con⯑cerning the Actions of others enters ſo much into hu⯑man Life, that no Man, while awake, is ever a Mo⯑ment without employing it. Have we not Reaſon, therefore, to affirm, that all Mankind have always agreed in the Doctrine of Neceſſity, according to the foregoing Definition and Explication of it?
NOR have Philoſophers ever entertain'd a different Opinion from the People in this Particular. For not to mention, that almoſt every Action of their Life ſuppoſes it; there are even few of the ſpeculative Parts of Learning, to which it is not eſſential. What would become of Hiſtory, had we not a Dependance on the Veracity of the Hiſtorian, according to the Ex⯑perience we have had of Mankind? How could Poli⯑tics be a Science, if Laws and Forms of Government had not a uniform and regular Influence upon Society? Where would be the Foundation of Morals, if par⯑ticular [144] Characters had no certain nor determinate Power to produce particular Sentiments, and if theſe Sentiments had no conſtant Operation on Actions? And with what Pretext could we employ our Criticiſm upon any Poet or polite Author, if we could not pro⯑nounce the Conduct and Sentiments of his Actors, ei⯑ther natural or unnatural, to ſuch Characters, and in ſuch Circumſtances? It ſeems almoſt impoſſible, there⯑fore, to engage, either in Science or Action of any Kind, without acknowledging the Doctrine of Ne⯑ceſſity, and this Inference from Motives to voluntary Actions; from Characters to Conduct.
AND indeed, when we conſider how aptly natural and moral Evidence link together, and form only one Chain of Argument betwixt them, we ſhall make no Scruple to allow, that they are of the ſame Nature, and deriv'd from the ſame Principles. A Priſoner, who has neither Money nor Intereſt, diſcovers the Impoſſibility of his Eſcape, as well from the Obſti⯑nacy of the Goaler, as from the Walls and Bars, with which he is ſurrounded; and in all Attempts for his Freedom, chuſes rather to work upon the Stone and Iron of the one, than upon the inflexible Nature of the other. The ſame Priſoner, when conducted to the Scaffold, foreſees his Death as certainly from the Conſtancy and Fidelity of his Guards as from the Ope⯑ration [145] of the Ax or Wheel. His Mind runs along a certain Train of Ideas: The Refuſal of the Soldiers to conſent to his Eſcape; the Action of the Execu⯑tioner; the Separation of the Head and Body; Bleed⯑ing, convulſive Motions, and Death. Here is a con⯑nected Chain of natural Cauſes and voluntary Actions; but the Mind feels no Difference betwixt them, in paſſing from one Link to another: nor is leſs certain of the future Event than if it were connected with the Objects preſent to the Memory or Senſes, by a Train of Cauſes, cemented together by what we are pleas'd to call a phyſical Neceſſity. The ſame experienc'd Union has the fame Effect on the Mind, whether the united Objects be Motives, Volitions, and Actions; or Figure and Motion. We may change the Names of Things; but their Nature and their Operation on the Underſtanding never change.
I HAVE frequently conſider'd, what could poſſibly be the Reaſon, why all Mankind, tho' they have ever, without Heſitation, acknowledged the Doctrine of Neceſſity, in their whole Practice and Reaſoning, have yet diſcover'd ſuch a Reluctance to acknowledge it in Words, and have rather ſhewn a Propenſity, in all Ages, to profeſs the contrary Opinion. The Matter, I think, may be accounted for, after the following Manner. If we examine the Operations of Bodies and the Production of Effects from their Cauſes, [146] we ſhall find, that all our Faculties can never carry us farther in our Knowledge of this Relation, than barely to obſerve, that particular Objects are conſtantly conjoin'd together, and that the Mind is carry'd, by a cuſtomary Tranſition, from the Appearance of the one to the Belief of the other. But tho' this Concluſion concerning human Ignorance be the Reſult of the ſtricteſt Scrutiny and Examination of this Subject, Men ſtill entertain a ſtrong Propenſity to believe, that they penetrate farther into the Powers of Nature, and perceive ſomething like a neceſſary Connexion betwixt the Cauſe and the Effect. When again they turn their Reflections towards the Operations of their own Minds, and feel no ſuch Connexion of the Mo⯑tive and the Action; they are apt, from thence, to ſuppoſe, that there is a Difference betwixt the Effects, reſulting from material and brute Force, and thoſe which ariſe from Thought and Intelligence. But be⯑ing once convinc'd, that we know nothing farther of Cauſation of any Kind, than merely the conſtant Con⯑junction of Objects, and the conſequent Inference of the Mind from one to another, and finding, that theſe two Circumſtances are univerſally acknowledged to have place in voluntary Actions; we may thence be more eaſily led to own the ſame Neceſſity, common to all Cauſes. And tho' this Reaſoning may contradict the Syſtems of many Philoſophers, in aſcribing Neceſſity to the Determinations of the Will, we ſhall find, upon Reflection, that they diſſent from it in Words only, [147] not in their real Sentiments. Neceſſity, according to the Senſe in which it is here taken, has never yet been rejected, nor can ever, I think, be rejected, by any Philoſopher. It may only, perhaps, be pretend⯑ed, that the Mind can perceive, in the Operations of Matter, ſome farther Connexion betwixt the Cauſe and Effect; and a Connexion, which has not Place in the voluntary Actions of intelligent Beings. Now whether it be ſo or not, can only appear upon Exami⯑nation, and it is incumbent on theſe Philoſophers to make good their Aſſertion, by defining or deſcribing that Neceſſity, and pointing it out to us, in the Ope⯑rations of material Cauſes.
IT would ſeem, indeed, that Men begin at the wrong End of this Queſtion concerning Liberty and Neceſſity, when they enter upon it by examining the Faculties of the Soul, the Influence of the Under⯑ſtanding, and the Operations of the Will. Let them firſt diſcuſs a more ſimple Queſtion, viz. the Opera⯑tions of Body and of brute unintelligent Matter; and try if they can there form any Idea of Cauſation and Neceſſity, except that of a conſtant Conjunction of Objects, and ſubſequent Inference of the Mind from one to another. If theſe Circumſtances form, in re⯑ality, the whole of that Neceſſity, which we can con⯑ceive in Matter, and if theſe Circumſtances be alſo univerſally acknowledg'd to take place in the Opera⯑tions of the Mind, the Diſpute is at an End; or, at leaſt, [148] muſt be own'd to be thenceforward merely verbal. But as long as we will raſhly ſuppoſe, that we have ſome farther Idea of Neceſſity and Cauſation in the Operations of external Objects; at the ſame time, that we can find nothing farther, in the volun⯑tary Actions of the Mind; there is no Poſſibility of bringing the Diſpute to any determinate Iſſue, while we proceed upon ſo erroneous a Suppoſition. The only Method of undeceiving us, is, to mount up higher; to examine the narrow Extent of our Know⯑ledge, when apply'd to material Cauſes; and to con⯑vince ourſelves, that all we know of them, is, the conſtant Conjunction and Inference above-mention'd. We may, perhaps, find, that 'tis with Difficulty we are induc'd to fix ſuch narrow Limits to human Un⯑derſtanding: But we can afterwards find no Difficulty, when we come to apply this Doctrine to the Actions of the Will. For as 'tis evident, that theſe have a regu⯑lar and conſtant Conjunction with Motives and Cir⯑cumſtances and Characters, and as we always draw Inferences from the one to the other, we muſt be oblig'd to acknowledge, in Words, that Neceſſity, which we have already avow'd, in every Deliberation and Reflection of our Lives, and in every Step of our Conduct and Behaviour*.
[149] BUT to proceed in this reconciling Project with re⯑gard to the Doctrine of Liberty and Neceſſity, the moſt contentious Queſtion, of Metaphyſics, the moſt contentious Science; it will not require many Words to prove, that all Mankind have ever agreed in the [150] Doctrine of Liberty as well as in that of Neceſſity, and that the whole Diſpute, in this reſpect alſo, has been hi⯑therto merely verbal. For what is meant by Liberty, when apply'd to voluntary Actions? We cannot ſurely mean, that Actions have ſo little Connexion with Mo⯑tives, Inclinations, and Circumſtances, that the one does not follow, with a certain Degree of Uniformity, from the other, and that the one affords no Inference, from which we can conclude the Exiſtence of the other. For theſe are plain and acknowledged Matters of Fact. By Liberty, then, we can only mean, a Power of acting or not acting, according to the Deter⯑minations of the Will; that is, if we chuſe to remain at reſt, we may; if we chuſe to move, we alſo may. Now this hypothetical Liberty is univerſally allow'd to belong to every Body, who is not a Priſoner, and in Chains. Here then is no Subject of Diſpute.
[151] WHATEVER Definition we may give of Liberty, we ſhould be careful to obſerve two requiſite Circum⯑ſtances; firſt, that it be conſiſtent with plain Matter of Fact; ſecondly, that it be conſiſtent with itſelf. If we obſerve theſe Circumſtances, and render our De⯑finition intelligible, I am perſuaded that all Mankind will be found of one Opinion with regard to it.
'TIS univerſally allow'd, that nothing exiſts with⯑out a Cauſe of its Exiſtence, and that Chance, when ſtrictly examin'd, is a mere negative Word, and means not any real Power, which has, any where, a Being in Nature. But 'tis pretended that ſome Cauſes are neceſſary, and ſome are not neceſſary. Here then is the admirable Advantage of Definitions. Let any one define a Cauſe, without comprehending, as a Part of the Definition, a neceſſary Connexion with its Effect; and let him ſhew diſtinctly the Origin of the Idea, ex⯑preſs'd by the Definition; and I ſhall frankly give up the whole Controverſy. But if the foregoing Expli⯑cation of the Matter be receiv'd, this muſt be abſo⯑lutely impracticable. Had not Objects a regular and conſtant Conjunction with each other, we ſhould never have entertain'd any Notion of Cauſe and Effect; and this conſtant Conjunction produces that Inference of the Underſtanding, which is the only Connexion, that we can have any Comprehenſion of. Whoever [152] attempts a Definition of Cauſe, excluſive of theſe Cir⯑cumſtances, will be oblig'd, either to employ unin⯑telligible Terms, or ſuch as are ſynonimous to the Term which he endeavours to define*. And if the Definition above mentioned, be admitted; Liberty, when oppos'd to Neceſſity, not to Conſtraint, is the ſame Thing with Chance; which is univerſally al⯑low'd to have no Exiſtence.
THERE is no Method of Reaſoning more common, and yet none more blameable, than in philoſophical De⯑bates, to endeavour the Refutation of any Hypotheſis, by a Pretext of its dangerous Conſequences to Reli⯑gion and Morality. When any Opinion leads into Abſurdities, 'tis certainly falſe; but 'tis not certain an Opinion is falſe, becauſe 'tis of dangerous Conſe⯑quence. Such Topics, therefore, ought entirely to [153] be forborn, as ſerving nothing to the Diſcovery of Truth, but only to make the Perſon of an Antagoniſt odious. This I obſerve in general, without pretend⯑ing to draw any Advantage from it. I ſubmit frankly to an Examination of this Kind, and ſhall venture to affirm, that the Doctrines, both of Neceſſity and Li⯑berty, as above explain'd, are not only conſiſtent with Morality and Religion, but are abſolutely eſſential to them. And firſt, of Neceſſity.
NECESSITY may be defin'd two Ways, conform⯑able to the two Definitions of Cauſe, of which it makes an eſſential Part. It conſiſts either in the con⯑ſtant Union and Conjunction of like Objects, or in the Inference of the Underſtanding from one Object to another. Now Neceſſity, in both theſe Senſes, (which, indeed, are, at the Bottom, the ſame) has univerſally, tho' tacitly, in the Schools, in the Pulpit, and in common Life, been allow'd to belong to the Will of Man; and no one has ever pretended to deny, that we can draw Inferences concerning human Ac⯑tions, and that thoſe Inferences are founded on the experienc'd Union of like Actions, with like Motives, Inclinations, and Circumſtances. The only Particu⯑lar, in which any one can differ, is, that either, per⯑haps, he will refuſe to give the Name of Neceſſity to this Property of human Actions: But as long as the Meaning is underſtood, I hope the Word can do no [154] Harm: Or that he will maintain it poſſible to diſco⯑ver ſomething farther in the Operations of Matter. But this, it muſt be acknowledg'd, can be of no Con⯑ſequence to Morality or Religion, whatever it may be to natural Philoſophy or Metaphyſics. We may be miſtaken in aſſerting, that there is no Idea of any o⯑ther Neceſſity or Connexion in the Actions of Body: But ſurely we here aſcribe nothing to the Actions of the Mind, but what every one does, and muſt readily allow of. We change no Circumſtance in the re⯑ceiv'd orthodox Syſtem with regard to the Will, but only in that with regard to material Objects and Cauſes. Nothing therefore can be more innocent, at leaſt, than this Doctrine. All Laws being founded on Rewards and Puniſhments, 'tis ſuppos'd as a funda⯑mental Principle, that theſe Motives have a regular and uniform Influence on the Mind, and both produce the good and prevent the evil Actions. We may give to this Influence, what Name we pleaſe; but as 'tis u⯑ſually conjoin'd with the Action, it muſt be eſteem'd a Cauſe, and be look'd upon as an Inſtance of that Neceſſity, which we would eſtabliſh.
THE only proper Object of Hatred or Vengeance, is a Perſon, or Creature, endow'd with Thought and Conſciouſneſs; and when any criminal or injurious Actions excite that Paſſion, 'tis only by their Rela⯑tion to the Perſon, or Connexion with him. Actions [155] are, by their very Nature, temporary and periſhing; and where they proceed not from ſome Cauſe in the Characters and Diſpoſition of the Perſon, who per⯑form'd them, they can neither redound to his Honour, if good, nor Infamy, if evil. The Actions them⯑ſelves may be blameable; they may be contrary to all the Rules of Morality and Religion: But the Per⯑ſon is not reſponſible for them; and as they proceeded from nothing in him, that is durable and conſtant, and leave nothing of that Nature behind them, 'tis impoſſible he can, upon their Account, become the Object of Puniſhment or Vengeance. According to the Principle therefore, which denies Neceſſity, and conſequently Cauſes, a Man is as pure and untainted, after having committed the moſt horrid Crimes, as at the firſt Moment of his Birth, nor is his Character any way concern'd in his Actions; ſince they are not de⯑riv'd from it, and the Wickedneſs of the one can never be us'd as a Proof of the Depravity of the other.
MEN are not blam'd for ſuch Actions as they per⯑form ignorantly and caſually, whatever may be the Conſequences. Why? but becauſe the Principles of theſe Actions are only momentary, and terminate in them alone. Men are leſs blam'd for ſuch evil Ac⯑tions as they perform haſtily and unpremeditately, than from ſuch as proceed from Thought and Deliberation. [156] For what Reaſon? but becauſe a haſty Temper, tho' a conſtant Cauſe or Principle in the Mind, operates only by Intervals, and infects not the whole Charac⯑ter. Again, Repentance wipes off every Crime, if attended with a Reformation of Life and Manners. How is this to be accounted for? but by aſſerting, that Actions render a Perſon criminal, merely as they are Proofs of criminal Paſſions or Principles in the Mind; and when, by any Alteration of theſe Prin⯑ciples, they ceaſe to be juſt Proofs, they likewiſe ceaſo to be criminal. But except upon the Doctrine of Neceſſity, they never were juſt Proofs, and conſe⯑quently never were criminal.
IT will be equally eaſy to prove, and from the ſame Arguments, that Liberty, according to that Definition above-mentioned, in which all Men agree, is alſo eſ⯑ſential to Morality, and that no human Actions, where it is wanting, is ſuſceptible of any moral Qua⯑lities, or can be the Object either of Approbation or Diſlike. For as Actions are the Objects of our moral Sentiments, ſo far only as they are Indications or Proofs of the internal Character, Paſſions, and Affec⯑tions; 'tis impoſſible they can give riſe either to Praiſe or Blame, where they proceed not from theſe Prin⯑ciples, but are deriv'd altogether from external Force and Violence.
[157] I PRETEND not to have obviated or remov'd all Objections to this Theory, with regard to Neceſſity and Liberty. I can foreſee other Objections, deriv'd from Topics, which have not here been treated of. It may be ſaid, for Inſtance, that if voluntary Actions be ſubjected to the ſame Laws of Neceſſity with the Operations of Matter, there is a continu'd Chain of neceſſary Cauſes, pre-ordain'd and pre-determin'd, reaching from the original Cauſe of all, to every ſin⯑gle Volition of every human Creature. No Contin⯑gency any where in the Univerſe; no Indifference; no Liberty. While we act, we are, at the ſame time, acted upon. The ultimate Author of all our Voli⯑tions is the Creator of the World, who firſt beſtow'd Motion on this immenſe Machine, and plac'd all Be⯑ings in that particular Poſition, whence every ſubſe⯑quent Event, by an inevitable Neceſſity, muſt reſult. Human Actions, therefore, can either have no Turpi⯑tude at all, as proceeding from ſo good a Cauſe; or if they can have any moral Turpitude, they muſt in⯑volve our Creator in the ſame Guilt, while he is ac⯑knowledged to be their ultimate Cauſe and Author. For as a Man, who fired a Mine, is anſwerable for all the Conſequences, whether the Train he employ'd be long or ſhort; ſo wherever a continu'd Chain of ne⯑ceſſary Cauſes are fix'd, that Being, either finite or [158] infinite, who produces the firſt, is likewiſe the Author of all the reſt, and muſt both bear the Blame, and acquire the Praiſe, which belongs to them. Our cleareſt and moſt unalterable Ideas of Morality eſta⯑bliſh this Rule, upon unqueſtionable Reaſons, when we examine the Conſequences of any human Action; and theſe Reaſons muſt ſtill have greater Force, when apply'd to the Volitions and Intentions of a Being, in⯑finitely wiſe and powerful. Ignorance or Impotence may be pleaded for ſo limited a Creature as Man; but thoſe Imperfections have no Place in our Creator. He foreſaw, he ordain'd, he intended all thoſe Actions of Men, which we ſo raſhly pronounce criminal. And we muſt conclude, therefore, either that they are not criminal, or that the Deity, not Man, is reſponſible for them. But as either of theſe Poſitions is abſurd and impious, it follows, that the Doctrine, from which they are deduc'd, cannot poſſibly be true, as being liable to all the ſame Objections. An abſurd Conſe⯑quence, if neceſſary, proves the original Doctrine to be abſurd; in the ſame Manner, that criminal Actions render criminal the original Cauſe, if the Connexion betwixt them be neceſſary and inevitable.
THIS Objection conſiſts of two Parts, which we ſhall examine ſeparately; Firſt, that if human Actions [159] can be trac'd up, by a neceſſary Chain, to the Deity, they can never be criminal; on account of the infinite Goodneſs and Perfection of that Being, from whom they are deriv'd, and who can intend nothing but what is altogether good and right. Or Secondly, if they be criminal, we muſt retract thoſe Attributes of Good⯑neſs and Perfection, which we aſcribe to the Deity, and muſt acknowledge him to be the ultimate Author of Guilt and moral Turpitude in all his Creatures.
THE Anſwer to the firſt Objection ſeems obvious and convincing. There are many Philoſophers, who, after an exact Scrutiny of all the Phaenomena of Na⯑ture, conclude, that the WHOLE, conſider'd as one Syſtem, is, in every Period of its Exiſtence, order'd with perfect Benevolence and Goodneſs; and that the utmoſt poſſible Happineſs will, in the End, reſult to every created Being, without any Mixture of poſitive or abſolute Ill and Miſery. Every phyſical Ill, ſay they, makes an eſſential Part of this benevolent Sy⯑ſtem, and could not poſſibly be remov'd, even by the Deity himſelf, conſider'd as a wiſe Agent, without giving Entrance to greater Ill, or excluding greater Good, which will reſult from it. From this Theory, ſome Philoſophers, and the antient Stoics among the reſt, deriv'd a Topic of Conſolation, under all Afflic⯑tions, while they taught their Pupils, that thoſe Ills, [160] they labour'd under, were, in reality, Goods to the Univerſe; and that to an enlarg'd View, which could comprehend the whole Syſtem of Nature, every E⯑vent became an Object of Joy and Exultation. But tho' this Topic be ſpecious and ſublime, it was ſoon found in Practice weak and ineffectual. You would ſurely more irritate, than appeaſe a Man, lying under the racking Pains of the Gout, by preaching up to him the Rectitude of thoſe general Laws, which pro⯑duc'd the malignant Humours in his Body, and led them, thro' the proper Canals, to the Nerves and Si⯑news, where they now excite ſuch acute Torments. Theſe enlarg'd Views may, for a Moment, pleaſe the Imagination of a ſpeculative Man, who is plac'd in Eaſe and Security; but neither can they dwell with Conſtancy on his Mind, even tho' undiſturb'd by the Emotions of Pain or Paſſion; much leſs can they maintain their Ground, when attack'd by ſuch pow⯑erful Antagoniſts. The Affections take a narrower and more natural Survey of their Object; and by an Oeconomy, more ſuitable to the Infirmity of human Minds, regard alone the Objects around us, and are actuated by ſuch Events as appear good or ill to the private Syſtem. The Caſe is the ſame with moral as with phyſical Ill; nor can it reaſonably be ſuppos'd, that thoſe remote Conſiderations, which are found of ſo little Efficacy with regard to the one, will have a [161] more powerful Influence with regard to the other. The Mind of Man is ſo form'd by Nature, that, upon the Appearance of certain Characters, Diſpoſitions, and Actions, it immediately feels the Sentiment of Ap⯑probation or Blame; nor are there any Feelings or Emotions more eſſential to its Frame and Conſtitution. The Characters, which engage its Approbation, are chiefly ſuch as contribute to the Peace and Security of human Society; as the Characters, which excite Blame, are chiefly ſuch as tend to its Detriment and Diſturbance: Whence we may reaſonably preſume, that the moral Sentiments ariſe, either mediately or immediately, from a Reflection on theſe oppoſite Intereſts. What tho' philoſophical Meditations eſta⯑bliſh a different Opinion or Conjecture, that every Thing is right with regard to the WHOLE, and that the Qualities, which diſturb Society, are, in the main, as beneficial, and are as ſuitable to the primary Intention of Nature, as thoſe which more directly promote its Happineſs and Welfare? Are ſuch re⯑mote and uncertain Speculations able to counter⯑balance the Sentiments, which ariſe from the natu⯑ral and immediate View of the Objects? A Man, who is robb'd of a conſiderable Sum; does he find his Vexation for the Loſs a whit diminiſh'd by theſe ſublime Reflections? Why then ſhould his moral Reſentment againſt the Crime be ſuppos'd [162] incompatible with them? Or why ſhould not the Acknowledgment of a real Diſtinction betwixt Vice and Virtue be reconcileable to all ſpeculative Sy⯑ſtems of Philoſophy, as well as that of a real Di⯑ſtinction betwixt perſonal Beauty and Deformity? Both theſe Diſtinctions are founded on the natural Sentiments of the human Mind: And theſe Senti⯑ments are not to be controul'd or alter'd by any philoſophical Theory or Speculation whatſoever.
THE ſecond Objection admits not of ſo eaſy and ſatisfactory an Anſwer; nor is it poſſible to explain diſtinctly, how the Deity can be the mediate Cauſe of all the Actions of Men, without being the Au⯑thor of Sin and moral Turpitude. Theſe are My⯑ſteries, which mere natural and unaſſiſted Reaſon is very unfit to handle; and whatever Syſtem it em⯑braces, it muſt find itſelf involv'd in inextricable Difficulties, and even Contradictions, at every Step it takes with regard to ſuch Subjects. To reconcile the Indifference and Contingency of human Actions with Preſcience; or to defend abſolute Decrees, and yet free the Deity from being the Author of Sin, has been found hitherto to exceed all the Skill of Philoſophy. Happy, if ſhe be thence ſenſible of her Temerity when ſhe pries into theſe ſublime Myſteries; and leaving a Scene ſo full of Ob⯑ſcurities [163] and Perplexities, return, with ſuitable Mo⯑deſty, to her true and proper Province, the Exa⯑mination of common Life; where ſhe will find Difficulties enow to employ her Enquiries, with⯑out launching into ſo boundleſs an Ocean of Doubts, Uncertainties and Contradictions!
ALL our Reaſonings concerning Matter of Fact are founded on a Species of ANALOGY, which leads us to expect from any Cauſe the ſame Events, which we have obſerv'd to reſult from ſimilar Cauſes. Where the Cauſes are entirely ſimilar, the Analogy is perfect, and the Inference, drawn from it, is regarded as certain and concluſive; nor does any Man ever en⯑tertain a Doubt, where he ſees a Piece of Iron, that it will have Weight and Coheſion of Parts; as in all other Inſtances, which have ever fallen under his Obſervation. But where the Objects have not ſo ex⯑act [166] a Similarity, the Analogy is leſs perfect, and the Inference is leſs concluſive; tho' ſtill it has ſome Force, in Proportion to the Degrees of Similarity and Reſemblance. The Anatomical Obſervations, form'd upon one Animal, are, by this Species of Reaſoning, extended to all Animals; and 'tis certain, that when the Circulation of the Blood, for Inſtance, is prov'd clearly to have place in one Creature, as a Frog or Fiſh, it forms a ſtrong Preſumption, that the ſame Principle has place in all of them. Theſe analogical Obſervations may be carry'd farther, even to this Science, of which we are now treating; and any Theory, by which we explain the Operations of the Underſtanding or the Origin and Connexion of the Paſſions, in Man, will acquire additional Authority, if we find, that the ſame Theory is requiſite to ex⯑plain the ſame Phaenomena, in all other Animals. We ſhall make Trial of this, with regard to the Hypotheſis, by which, in the foregoing Eſſays, we have endeavour'd to account for all experimental Reaſonings; and 'tis hop'd, that this new Point of View will ſerve to confirm all our former Obſer⯑vations.
Firſt. It ſeems evident, that Animals, as well as Men, learn many Things from Experience, and infer, [167] that the ſame Events will always follow from the ſame Cauſes. By this Principle, they become ac⯑quainted with the more obvious Properties of exter⯑nal Objects, and gradually, from their Birth, treaſure up a Knowledge of the Nature of Fire, Water, Earth, Stones, Heights, Depths, &c. and of the Effects that reſult from their Operation. The Ignorance and Inexperience of the Young, is here plainly di⯑ſtinguiſhable from the Cunning and Sagacity of the Old, who have learnt, by long Obſervation, to avoid what hurt them, and to purſue what gave Eaſe or Pleaſure. A Horſe, that has been accuſtom'd to the Field, becomes acquainted with the proper Height, which he can leap, and will never attempt what ex⯑ceeds his Force and Ability. An old Greyhound will truſt the more fatiguing Part of the Chace to the younger, and will place himſelf ſo as to meet the Hare in her Doubles; nor are the Conjectures, which he forms on this Occaſion founded on any Thing but his Obſervation and Experience.
THIS is ſtill more evident from the Effects of Diſ⯑cipline and Education on all Animals, who, by the proper Application of Rewards and Puniſhments, may be taught any Courſe of Action, the moſt contrary to their natural Inſtincts and Propenſities. Is it not [168] Experience, which renders a Dog apprehenſive of Pain, when you menace him, or lift up the Whip to beat him? Is it not even Experience, which makes him anſwer to his Name, and infer, from ſuch an arbitrary Sound, that you mean him, rather than any of his Fellows, and intend to call him, when you pronounce it in a certain Manner, and with a certain Tone and Accent?
IN all theſe Caſes, we may obſerve, that the Ani⯑mal infers ſome Fact beyond what immediately ſtrikes his Senſes; and that this Inference is altogether founded on paſt Experience, while the Creature ex⯑pects from the preſent Object the ſame Events, which it has always found in its Obſervation to reſult from ſimilar Objects.
Secondly. 'Tis impoſſible, that this Inference of the Animal can be founded on any Proceſs of Argu⯑ment or Reaſoning, by which he concludes, that like Events muſt follow like Objects, and that the Courſe of Nature will always be regular in its Operations. For if there be in reality any Arguments of this Na⯑ture, they ſurely lie too abſtruſe for the Obſervation of ſuch imperfect Underſtandings; ſince it may well employ the utmoſt Care and Attention of a philo⯑ſophic Genius to diſcover and obſerve them. Ani⯑mals, [169] therefore, are not guided in theſe Inferences by Reaſoning: Neither are Children: Neither are the Generality of Mankind, in their ordinary Actions and Concluſions: Neither are Philoſophers themſelves, who, in all the active Parts of Life, are, in the main, the ſame with the Vulgar, and are govern'd by the ſame Maxims. Nature muſt have provided ſome other Principle, of more ready, and more ge⯑neral Uſe and Application; nor can an Operation of ſuch immenſe Conſequence in Life, as that of in⯑ferring Effects from Cauſes, be truſted to the un⯑certain Proceſs of Reaſoning and Argumentation. Were this doubtful with regard to Men, it ſeems to admit of no Queſtion with regard to the Brute-Creation; and the Concluſion being once firmly eſtabliſh'd in one, we have a ſtrong Preſumption, from all the Rules of Analogy, that it ought to be univerſally admitted, without any Exception or Re⯑ſerve. 'Tis Cuſtom alone, which engages Animals, from every Object, that ſtrikes their Senſes, to infer its uſual Attendant, and carries their Imagination, from the Appearance of the one, to conceive the other, in that ſtrong and lively Manner, which we denominate Belief. No other Explication can be [170] given of this Operation, in all the higher, as well as lower Claſſes of ſenſitive Beings, that fall under our Notice and Obſervation.
BUT tho' Animals learn many Parts of their Knowledge from Obſervation, there are alſo many Parts of it, which they derive from the original Hand of Nature, which muſt exceed the Share of Capacity they poſſeſs on ordinary Occaſions, and in which they improve, little or nothing, by the longeſt Practice and Experience. Theſe we denominate INSTINCTS, and are ſo apt to admire, as ſomething very extraordinary, and in⯑explicable by all the Diſquiſitions of human Un⯑derſtanding. But our Wonder will, perhaps, ceaſe or diminiſh; when we conſider, that the experi⯑mental Reaſoning itſelf, which we poſſeſs in com⯑mon with Beaſts, and on which the whole Con⯑duct of Life depends, is nothing but a Species of Inſtinct or mechanical Power, that acts in us unknown to ourſelves, and in its chief Opera⯑tions; is not directed by any ſuch Relations or Compariſons of Ideas, as are the proper Ob⯑jects of our intellectual Faculties. Tho' the In⯑ſtinct be different, yet ſtill 'tis an Inſtinct, which teaches a Man to avoid the Fire; as much as [171] that, which teaches a Bird, with ſuch Exactneſs, the Art of Incubation, and the whole Oeconomy and Order of its Nurſery.
THERE is in Dr. Tillotſon's Writings an Argu⯑ment againſt the real Preſence, which is as conciſe and elegant, and ſtrong as any Argument can poſſibly be ſuppos'd againſt a Doctrine, that is ſo little worthy of a ſerious Refutation. 'Tis acknow⯑ledg'd on all hands, ſays that learned Prelate, that the Authority, either of the Scripture or of Tradition, is founded merely on the Teſtimony of the Apoſtles, who were Eye-witneſſes to thoſe Miracles of our Sa⯑viour, by which he prov'd his divine Miſſion. Our Evidence, then, for the Truth of the Chriſtian Re⯑ligion is leſs than the Evidence for the Truth of our Senſes; becauſe, even in the firſt Authors of our Re⯑ligion, it was no greater; and 'tis evident it muſt di⯑miniſh [174] in paſſing from them to their Diſciples; not can any one be ſo certain of the Truth of their Teſti mony as of the immediate Objects of his Senſes. But a weaker Evidence can never deſtroy a ſtronger; und therefore, were the Doctrine of the real Preſence ever ſo clearly reveal'd in Scripture, 'twere directly con⯑trary to the Rules of juſt Reaſoning to give our Aſſent to it. It contradicts Senſe, tho' both the Scripture and Tradition, on which it is ſuppos'd to be built, carry not ſuch Evidence with them as Senſe; when they are conſider'd merely as external Evidences, and are not brought home to every one's Breaſt, by the immediate Operation of the Holy Spirit.
NOTHING is ſo convenient as a deciſive Argu⯑ment of this Kind, which muſt at leaſt ſilence the moſt arrogant Bigotry and Superſtition, and free one from their impertinent Sollicitations. I flatter myſelf, that I have diſcover'd an Argument of a like Nature, which, if juſt, will, with the Wiſe and Learned, be an everlaſting Check to all Kinds of ſuperſtitious De⯑luſion, and conſequently, will be uſeful as long as the World endures. For ſo long, I preſume, will the Accounts of Miracles and Prodigies be found in all prophane Hiſtory.
THO' Experience be our only Guide in reaſoning concerning Matters of Fact; it muſt be acknowledg'd, [175] that this Guide is not altogether infallible, but in ſome Caſes is apt to lead us into Errors and Miſtakes. One, who, in our Climate, ſhould expect better Wea⯑ther in any Week of June than in one of December, would reaſon juſtly and conformable to Experience; but 'tis certain, that he may happen, in the Event, to find himſelf miſtaken. However, we may obſerve, that, in ſuch a Caſe, he would have no Cauſe to com⯑plain of Experience; becauſe it commonly informs us beforehand of the Uncertainty, by that Contrariety of Events, which we may learn from a diligent Obſer⯑vation. All Effects follow not with a like Certainty from their ſuppos'd Cauſes. Some Events are found, in all Countries and all Ages, to have been conſtantly conjoin'd together: Others are found to have been more variable, and ſometimes to diſappoint our Ex⯑pectations; ſo that in our Reaſonings concerning Matter of Fact, there are all imaginable Degrees of Aſſurance, from the higheſt Certainty to the loweſt Species of moral Evidence.
A WISE Man, therefore, proportions his Belief to the Evidence. In ſuch Concluſions as are founded on an infallible Experience, he expects the Event with the laſt Degree of Aſſurance, and regards his paſt Ex⯑perience as a full Proof of the future Exiſtence of that Event. In other Caſes, he proceeds with more Cau⯑tion: He weighs the oppoſite Experiments: He con⯑ſiders [176] which Side is ſupported by the greateſt Number of Experiments: To that Side he inclines, with Doubt and Heſitation; and when at laſt he fixes his Judg⯑ment, the Evidence exceeds not what we properly call Probability. All Probability, then, ſuppoſes an Op⯑poſition of Experiments and Obſervations; where the one Side is found to over-balance the other, and to produce a Degree of Evidence, proportion'd to the Superiority. A hundred Inſtances or Experiments on one Side, and fifty on another, afford a very doubt⯑ful Expectation of any Event; tho' a hundred uni⯑form Experiments, with only one contradictory one, does reaſonably beget a very ſtrong Degree of Aſſu⯑rance. In all Caſes, we muſt balance the oppoſite Experiments, where they are oppoſite, and deduct the leſſer Number from the greater, in order to know the exact Force of the ſuperior Evidence.
To apply theſe Principles to a particular Inſtance; we may obſerve, that there is no Species of Reaſoning more common, more uſeful, and even neceſſary to human Life, than that deriv'd from the Teſtimony of Men, and the Reports of Eye-witneſſes and Specta⯑tors. This Species of Reaſoning, perhaps, one may deny to be founded on the Relation of Cauſe and Ef⯑fect. I ſhall not diſpute about a Word. 'Twill be ſufficient to obſerve, that our Aſſurance in any Argu⯑ment of this Kind is deriv'd from no other Principle [177] than our Obſervation of the Veracity of human Teſti⯑mony, and of the uſual Conformity of Facts to the Reports of Witneſſes. It being a general Maxim, that no Objects have any diſcoverable Connexion to⯑gether, and that all the Inferences we can draw from one to another are founded merely on our Experience of their conſtant and regular Conjunction; 'tis evident we ought not to make an Exception to this Maxim in Favour of human Teſtimony, whoſe Connexion with any Events ſeems, in itſelf, as little neceſſary as any other. Did not Mens Imagination naturally follow their Memory; had they not commonly an Inclina⯑tion to Truth and a Sentiment of Probity; were they not ſenſible to Shame, when detected in a Falſhood: Were not theſe, I ſay, diſcover'd by Experience to be Qualities, inherent in human Nature, we ſhould never repoſe the leaſt Confidence in human Teſtimony. A Man delirious, or noted for Falſhood and Villany, has no Manner of Weight or Authority with us.
AND as the Evidence, deriv'd from Witneſſes and human Teſtimony, is founded on paſt Experience, ſo it varies with the Experience, and is regarded ei⯑ther as a Proof or a Probability, according as the Conjunction betwixt any particular Kind of Report and any Kind of Objects has been found to be con⯑ſtant or variable. There are a Number of Circum⯑ſtances to be taken into Conſideration in all Judg⯑ments [178] of this Kind; and our ultimate Standard, by which we determine all Diſputes, that may ariſe con⯑cerning them, is always deriv'd from Experience and Obſervation. Where this Experience is not intirely uniform on any Side, 'tis attended with an unavoidable Contrariety in our Judgments, and with the ſame Op⯑poſition and mutual Deſtruction of Arguments as in every other Kind of Evidence. We frequently heſi⯑tate concerning the Reports of others. We balance the oppoſite Circumſtances, that cauſe any Doubt or Uncertainty; and when we diſcover a Superiority on any Side, we incline to it; but ſtill with a Diminu⯑tion of Aſſurance, in proportion to the Force of its Antagoniſt.
THIS Contrariety of Evidence, in the preſent Caſe, may be deriv'd from ſeveral different Cauſes; from the Oppoſition of contrary Teſtimony; from the Cha⯑racter or Number of the Witneſſes; from the Manner of their delivering their Teſtimony; or from the U⯑nion of all theſe Circamſtances. We entertain a Suſpi⯑cion concerning any Matter of Fact, when the Witneſſes contradict each other; when they are but few, or of a ſuſpicious Character; when they have an Intereſt in what they affirm; when they deliver their Teſtimony with Doubt and Heſitation, or on the contrary, with too violent Aſſeverations. There are many other Par⯑iculars of the ſame Kind, which may diminiſh or de⯑ſtroy [179] the Force of any Argument, deriv'd from hu⯑man Teſtimony.
SUPPOSE, for Inſtance, that the Fact, which the Teſtimony endeavours to eſtabliſh, partakes of the Ex⯑traordinary and the Marvellous; in that Caſe, the Evidence, reſulting from the Teſtimony, receives a Diminution, greater or leſs, in proportion as the Fact is more or leſs unuſual. The Reaſon, why we place any Credit in Witneſſes and Hiſtorians is not from any Connexion we perceive a priori betwixt Teſtimony and Reality, but becauſe we are accuſtom'd to find a Con⯑formity betwixt them. But when the Fact atteſted is ſuch a one as has ſeldom fallen under our Obſervation, here is a Conteſt of two oppoſite Experiences; of which the one deſtroys the other as far as its Force goes, and the Superior can only operate on the Mind by the Force, which remains. The very ſame Prin⯑ciple of Experience, which gives us a certain Degree of Aſſurance in the Teſtimony of Witneſſes, gives us alſo, in this Caſe, another Degree of Aſſurance againſt the Fact, which they endeavour to eſtabliſh; from which Contradiction there neceſſarily ariſes a Counter⯑poize, and mutual Deſtruction of Belief and Au⯑thority.
BUT in order to increaſe the Probability againſt the Teſtimony of Witneſſes, let us ſuppoſe, that the Fact, [180] which they affirm, inſtead of being only marvellous, is really miraculous; and ſuppoſe alſo, that the Te⯑ſtimony, conſider'd apart, and in itſelf, amounts to an entire Proof; in that Caſe there is Proof againſt Proof, of which the ſtrongeſt muſt prevail, but ſtill with a Diminution of its Force, in proportion to that of its Antagoniſt.
A MIRACLE is a Violation of the Laws of Na⯑ture; and as a firm and inalterable Experience has eſtabliſh'd theſe Laws, the Proof againſt a Miracle, from the very Nature of the Fact, is as entire as any Argument from Experience can poſſibly be imagin'd, Why is it more than probable, that all Men muſt die; that Lead cannot, of itſelf, remain ſuſpended in the Air; that Fire conſumes Wood, and is extinguiſh'd by Water; unleſs it be that theſe Events are found agreeable to the Laws of Nature, and there is re⯑quir'd a Violation of theſe Laws, or in other Words, a Miracle, to prevent them? Nothing is eſteem'd a Miracle if it ever happen in the common Courſe of Nature. 'Tis no Miracle that a Man in ſeeming good Health ſhould die of a ſudden; becauſe ſuch a Kind of Death, tho' more unuſual than any other, has yet been frequently obſerv'd to happen. But 'tis a Mi⯑racle, that a dead Man ſhould come to Life; becauſe that has never been obſerv'd, in any Age or Country. There muſt, therefore, be an uniform Experience [181] againſt every miraculous Event, otherwiſe the Event would not merit that Appellation. And as an uniform Experience amounts to a Proof, there is here a direct and full Proof, from the Nature of the Fact, againſt the Exiſtence of any Miracle; nor can ſuch a Proof be deſtroy'd, or the Miracle render'd credible, but by an oppoſite Proof, that is ſuperior*.
[182]THE plain Conſequence is (and 'tis a general Max⯑im worthy of our Attention) ‘"That no Teſtimony is ſufficient to eſtabliſh a Miracle, unleſs the Teſti⯑mony be of ſuch a Kind, that its Falſhood would be more miraculous, than the Fact, which it endea⯑vours to eſtabliſh: And even in that Caſe, there is a mutual Deſtruction of Arguments, and the Supe⯑rior only gives us an Aſſurance ſuitable to that De⯑gree of Force, which remains, after deducting the Inferior."’ When any one tells me, that he ſaw a dead Man reſtor'd to Life, I immediately conſider with myſelf, whether it be more probable, that this Perſon ſhould either deceive or be deceiv'd, or that the Fact he relates ſhould really have happen'd. I weigh the one Miracle againſt the other, and according to the Superiority, which I diſcover, I pronounce my Deciſion, and always reject the greater Miracle. If the Flaſhood of his Teſtimony would be more miracu⯑lous, than the Event, which he relates; then, and not till then, can he pretend to command my Belief or Opinion.
IN the foregoing Reaſoning we have ſuppos'd, that the Teſtimony, upon which a Miracle is founded, may poſſibly amount to an entire Proof, and that the Falſhood of that Teſtimony would be a kind of Pro⯑digy. But 'tis eaſy to ſhew, that we have been a great deal too liberal in our Conceſſions, and that there never was a miraculous Event, in any Hiſtory, eſtabliſh'd on ſo full an Evidence.
FOR firſt, there is not to be found, in all Hiſtory, any Miracle atteſted by a ſufficient Number of Men, of ſuch unqueſtion'd Good-ſenſe, Education, and Learn⯑ing as to ſecure us againſt all Deluſion in themſelves; of ſuch undoubted Integrity, as to place them beyond all Suſpicion of any Deſign to deceive others; of ſuch Credit and Reputation in the Eyes of Mankind as to have a great deal to loſe in caſe of being detected in any Falſhood; and at the ſame time atteſting Facts, perform'd in ſuch a public Manner, and in ſo cele⯑brated a Part of the World, as to render the Detection unavoidable: All which Circumſtances are requiſite to give us a full Aſſurance in the Teſtimony of Men.
[184] SECONDLY. We may obſerve in human Nature a Principle, which, if ſtrictly examin'd, will be found to diminiſh extremely the Aſſurance we might have, from human Teſtimony, in any Kind of Prodigy. The Maxim, by which we commonly conduct ourſelves in our Reaſonings, is, that the Objects, of which we have no Experience, reſemble thoſe, of which we have; that what we have found to be moſt uſual is always moſt probable; and that where there is any Oppoſition of Arguments we ought to give the Pre⯑ference to ſuch of them as are founded on the greateſt Number of paſt Obſervations. But tho' in proceed⯑ing by this Rule, we readily reject any Fact, that is unuſual and incredible in an ordinary Degree; yet in advancing farther, the Mind obſerves not always the ſame Rule; but when any Thing is affirm'd utterly abſurd and miraculous, it rather the more readily ad⯑mits ſuch a Fact, upon account of that very Circum⯑ſtance, which ought to deſtroy all its Authority. The Paſſion of Surprize and Wonder, ariſing from Miracles, being an agreeable Emotion, gives a ſenſible Ten⯑dency towards the Belief of thoſe Events, from which it is deriv'd. And this goes ſo far, that even thoſe who cannot enjoy this Pleaſure immediately, nor can believe thoſe miraculous Events, of which they are inform'd, yet love to partake of the Satisfaction at Second-hand, or by Rebound, and place a Pride and Delight in exciting the Admiration of others.
[185] WITH what Greedineſs are the miraculous Accounts of Travellers receiv'd, their Deſcriptions of Sea and Land-Monſters, their Relations of wonderful Adven⯑tures, ſtrange Men, and uncouth Manners? But if the Spirit of Religion join itſelf to the Love of Wonder, there is an End of common Senſe; and human Teſti⯑mony, in theſe Circumſtances, loſes all Pretenſions to Authority. A Religioniſt may be an Enthuſiaſt, and imagine he ſees what has no Reality: He may know his Narration to be falſe, and yet perſevere in it, with the beſt Intentions in the World, for the ſake of promot⯑ing ſo holy a Cauſe: Or even where this Deluſion has no Place, Vanity, excited by ſo ſtrong a Temptation, operates on him more powerfully than on the reſt of Mankind in any other Circumſtances; and Self-In⯑tereſt with equal Force. His Auditors may not have, and commonly have not ſufficient Judgment to canvaſs his Evidence: What Judgment they have, they re⯑nounce by Principle, in theſe ſublime and myſterious Subjects: Or if they were ever ſo willing to employ it, Paſſion and a heated Imagination diſturb the Regu⯑larity of its Operations. Their Credulity increaſes his Impudence: And his Impudence over-powers their Credulity.
ELOQUENCE, when in its higheſt Pitch, leaves little room for Reaſon or Reflection; but addreſſing itſelf entirely to the Fancy or the Affections, capti⯑vates [186] the willing Hearers, and ſubdues their Under⯑ſtanding. Happily, this Pitch it ſeldom attains. But what a Cicero or a Demoſthenes could ſcarcely operate over a Roman or Athenian Audience, every Capuchin, every itinerant or ſtationary Teacher can perform over the Generality of Mankind, and in a higher Degree, by touching ſuch groſs and vulgar Paſſions*.
THIRDLY. It forms a very ſtrong Preſumption a⯑gainſt all ſupernatural and miraculous Relations, that [187] they are always found chiefly to abound amongſt ig⯑norant and barbarous Nations; or if a civiliz'd Peo⯑ple has ever given Admiſſion to any of them, that People will be found to have receiv'd them from ig⯑norant and barbarous Anceſtors, who tranſmitted them with that inviolable Sanction and Authority, which al⯑ways attends antient and receiv'd Opinions. When we peruſe the firſt Hiſtories of all Nations, we are apt to imagine ourſelves tranſported into ſome new World, where the whole Frame of Nature is disjointed, and every Element performs its Operations in a different Manner, from what it does at preſent. Battles, Re⯑volutions, Peſtilences, Famines, and Deaths are ne⯑ver the Effects of thoſe natural Cauſes, which we ex⯑perience. Prodigies, Omens, Oracles, Judgments quite obſcure and over-ſhadow the few natural Events, that are intermingled with them. But as theſe grow thinner every Page, in Proportion as we advance nearer the enlighten'd Ages of Science and Knowledge, we ſoon learn, that there is nothing myſterious or ſupernatural in the Caſe, but that all proceeds from the uſual Pro⯑penſity of Mankind towards the Marvellous and Ex⯑traordinary, and that tho' this Inclination may at In⯑tervals receive a Check from Senſe and Learning, it can never be thoroughly extirpated from human Na⯑ture.
[188] 'Tis ſtrange, a judicious Reader is apt to ſay, upon the Peruſal of theſe wonderful Hiſtorians, that ſuch prodigious Events never happen in our Days. But 'tis nothing ſtrange, I hope, that Men ſhould lye in all Ages. You muſt ſurely have ſeen Inſtances enow of that Frailty. You have yourſelf heard many ſuch prodigious Relations ſtarted, which being treated with Scorn by all the Wiſe and Judicious, have at laſt been abandon'd, even by the Vulgar. Be aſſur'd, that thoſe renown'd Lyes, which have ſpread and flouriſh'd to ſuch a monſtrous Height, aroſe from like Begin⯑nings; but being ſown on a more proper Soil, ſhot up at laſt into Prodigies almoſt equal to thoſe, which they relate.
'Twas a wiſe Policy in that cunning Impoſtor, Alex⯑ander, who, tho' now forgotten, was once ſo famous, to lay the firſt Scene of his Impoſtures in Paphlagonia, where, as Lucian tells us, the People were extremely ignorant and ſtupid, and ready to ſwallow even the groſſeſt Deluſion. People at a Diſtance, who are weak enough to think the Matter at all worth Enquiry, have no Opportunity of receiving better Information. The Stories come magnify'd to them by a hundred Circumſtances. Fools are induſtrious to propagate the Deluſion; while the Wiſe and Learned are contented, in general, to deride its Abſurdity, without informing themſelves of the particular Facts, by which it may be [189] diſtinctly refuted. And thus the Impoſtor above-men⯑tioned was enabled to proceed, from his ignorant Paphlagonians, to the inliſting of Votaries, even a⯑mong the Grecian Philoſophers, and Men of the moſt eminent Rank and Diſtinction in Rome. Nay could engage the Attention of that ſage Emperor, Marcus Aurelius; ſo far as to make him truſt the Succeſs of a military Expedition to his deluſive Prophecies.
THE Advantages are ſo great of ſtarting an Im⯑poſture amongſt an ignorant People, that even tho, the Deluſion ſhould be too groſs to impoſe on the Ge⯑nerality of them (which, tho' ſeldom, is ſometimes the Caſe) it has a much better Chance of ſucceeding in re⯑mote Countries, than if the firſt Scene had been laid in a City renown'd for Arts and Knowledge. The moſt ignorant and barbarous of theſe Barbarians carry the Report abroad. None of their Countrymen have large enough Correſpondence or ſufficient Credit and Authority to contradict and beat down the Deluſion. Men's Inclination to the Marvellous has full Opportu⯑nity to diſplay itſelf. And thus a Story ſhall paſs for certain at a thouſand Miles Diſtance, which is univer⯑ſally exploded in the Place where it was firſt ſtarted. But had Alexander fix'd his Reſidence at Athens, the Philoſophers of that renown'd Mart of Learning, had [...]mmediately ſpread, thro' the whole Roman Empire, [...]heir Senſe of the Matter, which, being ſupported by [190] ſo great Authority, and diſplay'd by all the Force of Reaſon and Eloquence, had entirely open'd the Eyes of Mankind. 'Tis true; Lucian paſſing by chance thro' Paphlagonia had an Opportunity of performing this good Office. But, tho' much to be wiſh'd, it does not always happen, that every Alexander meets with a Lucian, ready to expoſe and detect his Im⯑poſtures*.
I MAY add as a fourth Reaſon, which diminiſhes the Authority of Prodigies, that there is no Teſti⯑mony for any, even thoſe which have not been ex⯑preſsly detected, that is not oppos'd by an infinite Number of Witneſſes; ſo that not only the Miracle deſtroys the Credit of the Teſtimony, but even the Teſtimony deſtroys itſelf. To make this the better underſtood, let us conſider, that, in Matters of Re⯑ligion, whatever is different is contrary, and that 'tis [191] impoſſible the Religions of antient Rome, of Turkey, of Siam, and of China ſhould all of them be eſtabliſh'd on any ſolid Foundation. Every Miracle, therefore, pretended to have been wrought in any of theſe Re⯑ligions (and all of them abound in Miracles) as its di⯑rect Scope is to eſtabliſh the particular Syſtem, to which it is attributed; ſo it has the ſame Force, tho' more indirectly, to overthrow every other Syſtem. In deſtroying a Rival-Syſtem, it likewiſe deſtroys the Credit of thoſe Miracles, on which that Syſtem was eſtabliſh'd; ſo that all the Prodigies of different Re⯑ligions are to be regarded as contrary Facts, and the Evidences of theſe Prodigies, whether weak or ſtrong, as oppoſite to each other. According to this Method of Reaſoning, when we believe any Miracle of Ma⯑homet or any of his Succeſſors, we have for our War⯑rant the Teſtimony of a few barbarous Arabians: and on the other ſide, we are to regard the Authority of Titas Livius, Platarch, Tacitus, and in ſhort of all the Authors and Witneſſes, Grecian, Chineſe, and Roman Catholic, who have related any Miracles in their par⯑ticular Religion; I ſay, we are to regard their Teſti⯑mony in the ſame Light as if they had mention'd that Mahometan Miracle, and had in expreſs Terms con⯑tradicted it, with the ſame Certainty as they have for the Miracles they relate. This Argument may ap⯑pear over-ſubtile and refin'd; but is not in Reality different from the Reaſoning of a Judge, who ſup⯑poſes, [192] that the Credit of two Witneſſes, maintaining a Crime againſt any one, is deſtroy'd by the Teſti⯑mony of two others, who affirm him to have been two hundred Leagues diſtant, at the ſame Inſtant when the Crime is ſaid to have been committed.
ONE of the beſt atteſted Miracles in all prophane Hiſtory is that which Tacitus reports of Veſpaſian, who cur'd a blind Man in Alexandria, by Means of his Spittle, and a lame Man by the mere Touch of his Foot; in Obedience to a Viſion of the God, Serapis, who had enjoin'd them to have recourſe to the Em⯑peror, for theſe miraculous and extraordinary Cures, The Story may be ſeen in that fine Hiſtorian*; where every Circumſtance ſeems to add Weight to the Teſti⯑mony, and might be diſplay'd at large with all the Force of Argument and Eloquence, if any one were now concern'd to enforce the Evidence of that ex⯑ploded and idolatrous Superſtition. The Gravity, So⯑lidity, Age, and Probity of ſo great an Emperor, who, thro' the whole Coarſe of his Life, convers'd in a familiar Way with his Friends and Courtiers, and never affected thoſe extraordinary Airs of Divinity, aſſum'd by Alexander and Demetrius. The Hiſtorian, a contemporary Writer, noted for Candour and Ve⯑racity, and withal, the greateſt and moſt penetrating Genius, perhaps, of all Antiquity; and ſo free from [193] eny Tendency to Superſtition and Credulity, that he even lies under the contrary Imputation, of Atheiſm and Prophaneneſs: The Perſons, from whoſe Teſti⯑mony he related the Miracle, of eſtabliſh'd Character for Judgment and Veracity, as we may well ſuppoſe; Eye-witneſſes of the Fact, and confirming their Verdict, after the Flavian Family were deſpoil'd of the Em⯑pire, and could no longer give any Reward, as the Price of a Lye. Utrumque, qui interfuere, nunc quo⯑que memorant, poſtquam nullum mendacis pretium. To which if we add the public Nature of the Fact, as re⯑lated, it will appear, that no Evidence can well be ſuppos'd ſtronger for ſo groſs and ſo palpable a Falſ⯑hood.
THERE is alſo a very memorable Story related by Cardinal de Retz, and which may well deſerve our Conſideration. When that intriguing Politician fled into Spain, to avoid the Perſecution of his Enemies, he paſs'd thro' Saragoſſa, the Capital of Arragon, where he was ſhewn, in the Cathedral Church, a Man, who had ſerv'd twenty Years as a Door-keeper of the Church, and was well known to every Body in Town, that had ever paid their Devotions at that Cathedral. He had been ſeen, for ſo long a Time, wanting a Leg; but recover'd that Limb by the rubbing of holy Oil upon the Stump; and when the Cardinal examin'd it, he found it to be a true natural Leg, like the other. [194] This Miracle was vouch'd by all the Canons of the Church; and the whole Company in Town was ap⯑pealed to for a Confirmation of the Fact; whom the Cardinal found, by their zealous Devotion, to be thorough Believers of the Miracle. Here the Re⯑later was alſo contemporary to the ſuppos'd Prodigy, of an incredulous and libertine Character as well as of great Genius, the Miracle of ſo ſingular a Nature as could ſcarce admit of a Counterfeit, and the Witneſſes very numerous, and all of them, in a Manner, Spec⯑tators of the Fact, to which they gave their Teſtimony. And what adds mightily to the Force of the Evidence, and may double our Surprize on this Occaſion, is, that the Cardinal himſelf, who relates the Story, ſeems not to give any Credit to it, and conſequently cannot be ſuſpected of any Concurrence in the holy Fraud. He conſider'd juſtly, that it was not requiſite, in order to reject a Fact of this Nature, to be able accurately to diſprove the Teſtimony, and to trace its Falſhood, thro' all the Circumſtances of Knavery and Credulity, which produc'd it. He knew, that as this was com⯑monly altogether impoſſible, at any ſmall Diſtance of Time and Place; ſo was it extremely difficult, even where one was immediately preſent, by Reaſon of the Bigotry, Ignorance, Cunning, and Roguery of a great Part of Mankind. He therefore concluded, like a juſt Reaſoner, that ſuch an Evidence carry'd Falſhood upon the very Face of it, and that a Miracle, [195] ſupported by any human Teſtimony, was more pro⯑perly a Subject of Deriſion than of Argument.
THERE ſurely never was ſo great a Number of Mi⯑racles aſcrib'd to one Perſon, as thoſe, which were lately ſaid to have been wrought in France upon the Tomb of Abbé Paris, the famous Janſeniſt, with whoſe Sanctity the People were ſo long deluded. The curing of the Sick, giving Hearing to the Deaf, and Sight to the Blind were every where talk'd of, as the uſual Effects of that holy Sepulchre. But what is more extraordinary; many of the Miracles were imme⯑diately prov'd, upon the Spot, before Judges of un⯑queſtion'd Integrity, atteſted by Witneſſes of Credit and Diſtinction, in a learned Age, and on the moſt eminent Theatre, that is now in the World. Nor is this all: A Relation of them was publiſh'd, and di⯑ſpers'd every where; nor were the Jeſuits, tho' a learned Body, ſupported by the civil Magiſtrate, and determin'd Enemies to thoſe Opinions, in whoſe Fa⯑vour the Miracles were ſaid to have been wrought, ever able diſtinctly to refute or detect them. Where ſhall we find ſuch a Number of Circumſtances, agreeing to the Corroboration of one Fact? And what have we to oppoſe to ſuch a Cloud of Witneſſes, but the abſolute Impoſſibility or miraculous Nature of the Events, which they relate? And this ſurely, in the Eyes of all reaſonable People, will alone be regarded as a ſuf⯑ficient Refutation.
[196] Is the Conſequence juſt; becauſe ſome human Te⯑ſtimony has the utmoſt Force and Authority in ſome Caſes, when it relates the Battles of Philippi or Phar⯑ſalia, for Inſtance; that therefore all Kinds of Teſti⯑mony muſt, in all Caſes, have equal Force and Au⯑thority? Suppoſe the Caeſarean and Pompeian Factions had, each of them, challeng'd the Victory in theſe Battles, and the Hiſtorians of each Party had uni⯑formly aſcrib'd the Advantage to their own Side; how could Mankind, at this Diſtance, have been able to determine betwixt them? The Contrariety is equally ſtrong betwixt the Miracles related by Herodotus or Plutarch, and thoſe related by Mariana, Bede, or any monkiſh Hiſtorian.
THE Wiſe lend a very academic Faith to every Re⯑port, which favours the Paſſion of the Reporter, whe⯑ther it magnifies his Country, his Family, or himſelf, or in any other Way ſtrikes in with his natural Incli⯑nations and Propenſities. But what greater Temp⯑tation than to appear a Miſſionary, a Prophet, an Am⯑baſſador from Heaven? Who would not encounter many Dangers and Difficulties, to attain ſo ſublime a Character? Or if, by the Help of Vanity and a heated Imagination, a Man has firſt made a Convert of him⯑ſelf, and enter'd ſeriouſly into the Deluſion; who [197] ever ſcruples to make uſe of pious Frauds, in ſupport of ſo holy and meritorious a Cauſe?
THE ſmalleſt Spark may here kindle into the great⯑eſt Flame; becauſe the Materials are always prepar'd for it. The avidum genus auricularum, ſwallow greedily, without Examination, whatever ſooths Su⯑perſtition, and promotes Wonder.
How many Stories of this Nature have, in all Ages, been detected and exploded in their Infancy? How many more have been celebrated for a Time, and have afterwards ſunk into Neglect and Oblivion? Where ſuch Reports, therefore, fly about, the Solu⯑tion of the Phaenomenon is obvious; and we judge in Conformity to regular Experience and Obſervation, when we account for it by the known and natural Principles of Credulity and Deluſion. And ſhall we, rather than have Recourſe to ſo natural a Solution, allow of a miraculous Violation of the moſt known and moſt eſtabliſh'd Laws of Nature?
I NEED not mention the Difficulty of detecting a Falſhood in any private or even public Hiſtory, at the Time and Place, where it is ſaid to happen; much more where the Scene is remov'd to ever ſo ſmall a Diſtance. Even a Court of Judicature, with all the Authority, Accuracy, and Judgment, which they can [198] employ, find themſelves often at a loſs to diſtinguiſh betwixt Truth and Falſhood in the moſt recent Ac⯑tions. But the Matter never comes to any Iſſue, if truſted to the common Method of Altercation and De⯑bate and flying Rumours; eſpecially when Men's Paſſions have taken party on either Side.
IN the Infancy of new Religions, the Wiſe and Learned commonly eſteem the Matter too inconſide⯑rable to deſerve their Attention or Regard: And when afterwards they would willingly detect the Cheat, in order to undeceive the deluded Multitude, the Seaſon is now gone, and the Records and Witneſſes, who might clear up the Matter, have periſh'd beyond Re⯑covery.
NO Means of Detection remain, but thoſe which muſt be drawn from the very Teſtimony itſelf of the Reporters: And theſe, tho' always ſufficient with the Judicious and Knowing, are commonly too fine to fall under the Comprehenſion of the Vulgar.
UPON the whole, then, it appears, that no Teſti⯑mony for any Kind of Miracle can ever poſſibly a⯑mount to a Probability, much leſs to a Proof; and that even ſuppoſing it amounted to a Proof, 'twould be oppos'd by another Proof, deriv'd from the very Nature of the Fact, which it would endeavour to eſta⯑bliſh. [199] 'Tis Experience only, which gives Authority to human Teſtimony; and 'tis the ſame Experience, which aſſures us of the Laws of Nature. When, there⯑fore, theſe two Kinds of Experience are contrary, we have nothing to do but ſubtract the one from the other, and embrace an Opinion, either on the one Side or the other, with that Aſſurance, which ariſes from the Remainder. But according to the Principle here ex⯑plain'd, this Subtraction, with regard to all popular Religions, amounts to an entire Annihilation; and therefore we may eſtabliſh it as a Maxim, that no hu⯑man Teſtimony can have ſuch Force as to prove a Mi⯑racle, and make it a juſt Foundation for any ſuch Sy⯑ſtem of Religion*.
[200]I AM the better pleas'd with this Method of Rea⯑ſoning, as I think it may ſerve to confound thoſe dan⯑gerous [201] Friends or diſguis'd Enemies to the Chriſtian Religion, who have undertaken to defend it by the Principles of human Reaſon. Our moſt holy Religion is founded on Faith, not on Reaſon; and 'tis a ſure Method of expoſing it to put it to ſuch a Trial as it is, by no Means, fitted to endure. To make this more evident, let us examine thoſe Miracles, related in Scripture; and not to loſe ourſelves in too wide a Field, let us confine ourſelves to ſuch as we find in the Pentateuch, which we ſhall examine, as theſe pre⯑tended Chriſtians would have us, not as the Word or Teſtimony of God himſelf, but as the Production of a mere human Writer and Hiſtorian. Here then we are firſt to conſider a Book, preſented to us by a barbarous and ignorant People, wrote in an Age when they were [202] ſtill more barbarous, and in all Probability long after the Facts it relates; corroborated by no concurring Teſtimony, and reſembling thoſe fabulous Accounts, which every Nation gives of its Origin. Upon read⯑ing this Book, we find it full of Prodigies and Mi⯑racles. It gives an Account of a State of the World and of human Nature entirely different from the pre⯑ſent: Of our Fall from that State: Of the Age of Man, extended to near a thouſand Years: Of the De⯑ſtruction of the World by a Deluge: Of the arbitrary Choice of one People, as the Favourites of Heaven; and that People, the Countrymen of the Author: Of their Deliverance from Bondage by Prodigies the moſt aſtoniſhing imaginable: I deſire any one to lay his Hand upon his Heart, and after ſerious Conſideration declare, whether he thinks, that the Falſhood of ſuch a Book, ſupported by ſuch a Teſtimony, would be more extraordinary and miraculous than all the Mi⯑racles it relates; which is, however, neceſſary to make it be receiv'd, according to the Meaſures of Probability above eſtabliſh'd.
WHAT we have ſaid of Miracles may be apply'd, without any Variation, to Prophecies; and indeed, all Prophecies are real Miracles, and as ſuch only, can be admitted as Proofs of any Revelation. If it did not exceed the Capacity of human Nature to foretell future Events, 'twould be abſurd to employ any Pro⯑phecy [203] as a Proof of a divine Miſſion or Authority from Heaven. So that, upon the whole, we may con⯑clude, that the Chriſtian Religion, not only was at firſt attended with Miracles, but even at this Day cannot be believ'd by any reaſonable Perſon without one. Mere Reaſon is inſufficient to convince us of its Veracity: And whoever is mov'd by Faith to aſſent to it, is conſcious of a continued Miracle in his own Perſon, which ſubverts all the Principles of his Un⯑derſtanding, and gives him a Determination to be⯑lieve what is moſt contrary to Cuſtom and Ex⯑perience.
I WAS lately engag'd in Converſation with a Friend, who loves ſceptical Paradoxes; where, tho' he advanc'd many Principles, which I can by no means approve of, yet as they ſeem to be curious, and bear ſome relation to the Chain of Reaſoning carry'd on thro' theſe Eſſays, I ſhall here copy them from my Memory as accurately as I can, in order to ſubmit them to the Judgment of the Reader.
OUR Converſation began with my admiring the ſingular good Fortune of Philoſophy, which, as it re⯑quires entire Liberty, above all other Privileges, and flouriſhes chiefly from the free Oppoſition of Senti⯑ments and Argumentation, receiv'd its firſt Birth in an Age and Country of Freedom and Toleration, and [206] was never cramp'd, even in its moſt extravagant Prin⯑ciples, by any Creeds, Confeſſions, or penal Statutes. For except the Baniſhment of Protagoras, and the Death of Socrates, which laſt Event proceeded partly from other Motives, there are ſcarce any Inſtances to be met with, in antient Hiſtory, of this bigotted Jea⯑louſy and Perſecution, with which the preſent Age is ſo much infeſted. Epicurus liv'd at Athens to an ad⯑vanc'd Age, in Peace and Tranquility: Epicureans * were even admitted to receive the ſacerdotal Charac⯑ter, and to officiate at the Altar, in the moſt ſacred Rites of their Religion: And the public Encourage⯑ment† of Penſions and Salaries was afforded equally, by the wiſeſt of all the Roman Emperors‡, to the Profeſſors of every Sect of Philoſophy. How requi⯑ſite ſuch kind of Treatment was to Philoſophy, in its firſt Origin, will eaſily be conceiv'd, if we reflect, that even at preſent, when it may be ſuppos'd more hardy and robuſt, it bears with much Difficulty the Inclemency of the Seaſons, and thoſe harſh Winds of Calumny and Perſecution, which blow upon it.
YOU admire, ſays my Friend, as the ſingular Good-Fortune of Philoſophy, what ſeems to reſult from the natural Courſe of things, and to be unavoidable in every Age and Nation. This pertinacious Bigotry, of which you complain, as ſo fatal to Philoſophy, is [207] really her Offspring, who after allying with Super⯑ſtition, ſeparates himſelf intirely from the Intereſt of his Parent, and becomes her moſt inveterate Enemy and Perſecutor. Speculative Dogmas and Principles of Religion, the preſent Occaſions of ſuch furious Diſpute, could not poſſibly be conceiv'd or admitted in the early Ages of the World; when Mankind, be⯑ing wholly illiterate, form'd an Idea of Religion, more ſuitable to their weak Apprehenſion, and com⯑pos'd their ſacred Tenets chiefly of ſuch Tales and Stories as were the Objects of traditional Belief, more than of Argument or Diſputation. After the firſt Alarm, therefore, was over, which aroſe from the new Paradoxes and Principles of the Philoſophers; they ſeem, ever after, during the Ages of Antiquity, to have liv'd in great Harmony with the eſtabliſh'd Su⯑perſtitions, and to have made a fair Partition of Man⯑kind betwixt them; the former claiming all the Learned and the Wiſe, and latter poſſeſſing all the Vul⯑gar and Illiterate.
IT ſeems then, ſays I, that you leave Politics en⯑tirely out of the Queſtion; and never ſuppoſe, that a wiſe Magiſtrate can juſtly be jealous of certain Tenets of Philoſophy, ſuch as thoſe of Epicurus, which deny⯑ing a divine Exiſtence, and conſequently a Providence and a future State, ſeem to looſen, in a great Meaſure, [208] the Ties of Morality, and may be ſuppos'd, for that Reaſon, pernicious to the Peace of civil Society.
I KNOW, reply'd he, that in Fact theſe Perſecu⯑tions never, in any Age, proceeded from calm Rea⯑ſon, or any Experience of the pernicious Conſequences of Philoſophy; but aroſe entirely from Paſſion and Prejudice. But what if I ſhould advance farther, and aſſert, that if Epicurus had been accus'd before the People, by any of the Sycophants or Informers of thoſe Days, he could eaſily have defended his Cauſe, and prov'd his Principles of Philoſophy to be as ſalutary as thoſe of his Adverſaries, who endeavour'd, with ſuch Zeal, to ſubject him to the public Hatred and Jea⯑louſy?
I WISH, ſays I, you would try your Eloquence upon ſo extraordinary a Topic, and make a Speech for Epicu⯑rus, which might ſatisfy, not the Mob of Athens, if you will allow that antient and polite City to have contain'd any Mob, but the more philoſophical Part of his Audience, ſuch as might be ſuppos'd capable of comprehending his Arguments.
THE Matter would not be difficult, upon ſuch Conditions, reply'd he: And if you pleaſe, I ſhall ſuppoſe myſelf Epicurus for a Moment, and make you ſtand for the Athenian People, and ſhall give you ſuch [209] an Harangue as will fill all the Urn with white Beans, and leave not a black one to gratify the Malice of my Adverſaries.
VERY well: Pray proceed upon theſe Suppo⯑ſitions.
I COME hither, O ye Athenians, to juſtify in your Aſſembly what I maintained in my School, and find myſelf impeach'd by furious Antagoniſts, inſtead of reaſoning with calm and diſpaſſionate Enquirers. Your Deliberations, which of right ſhould be directed to Queſtions of public Good and the Intereſt of the Com⯑monwealth, are diverted to the Diſquiſitions of ſpecu⯑lative Philoſophy; and theſe magnificent, but, per⯑haps, fruitleſs Enquiries, take place of your more fa⯑miliar but more uſeful Occupations. But ſo far as in me lies, I will prevent this Abuſe. We ſhall not here diſpute concerning the Origin and Government of Worlds. We ſhall only enquire how far ſuch Que⯑ſtions concern the public Intereſt. And if I can per⯑ſuade you, that they are entirely indifferent to the Peace of Society and Security of Government, I hope you will preſently ſend us back to our Schools, there to examine at leiſure the Queſtion the moſt ſublime, but, at the ſame time, the moſt ſpeculative, of all Philoſophy.
[210] YOUR religious Philoſophers, not ſatisfy'd with the Tradition of your Forefathers, and Doctrines of your Prieſts (in which I willingly acquieſce) indulge a raſh Curioſity, in trying how far they can eſtabliſh Re⯑ligion upon the Principles of Reaſon; and they there⯑by excite, inſtead of ſatisfying the Doubts, which na⯑turally ariſe from a diligent and ſcrutinous Enquiry. They paint, in the moſt magnificent Colours, the Order, Beauty, and wiſe Arrangement of the Univerſe; and then aſk, if ſuch a glorious Diſplay of Intelligence and Wiſdom could proceed from the fortuitous Concourſe of Atoms, or if Chance could produce what the high⯑eſt Genius can never ſufficiently admire. I ſhall not examine the Juſtneſs of this Argument. I ſhall allow it to be as ſolid as my Antagoniſts and Accuſers can deſire. 'Tis ſufficient, if I can prove, from this very Reaſoning, that the Queſtion is entirely ſpeculative, and that when, in my philoſophical Diſquiſitions, I deny a Providence and a future State, I undermine not the Foundations of Society and Government, but advance Principles, which they themſelves, upon their own Topics, if they argue conſiſtently, muſt allow to be ſolid and ſatisfactory.
YOU then, who are my Accuſers, have acknow⯑ledged, that the chief or ſole Argument for a divine Exiſtence (which I never queſtion'd) is deriv'd from the Order of Nature; where there appears ſuch Marks [211] of Intelligence and Deſign, that you think it extrava⯑gant to aſſign for its Cauſe, either Chance, or the blind and unguided Force of Matter. You allow, that this is an Argument, drawn from Effects to Cauſes. You infer, from the Order of the Work, that there muſt have been Project and Forethought in the Workman. If you cannot make out this Point, you allow, that your Concluſion fails; and you pretend not to eſtabliſh the Concluſion in a greater Latitude than the Phae⯑nomena of Nature will juſtify. Theſe are your Con⯑ceſſions. I deſire you to mark the Conſequences.
WHEN we infer any particular Cauſe from an Ef⯑fect, we muſt proportion the one to the other, and can never be allow'd to aſcribe to the Cauſe any Qua⯑lities, but what are exactly ſufficient to produce the Effect. A Body of ten Ounces rais'd in any Scale may ſerve as a Proof, that the counter-ballancing Weight exceeds ten Ounces; but can never afford a Reaſon, that it exceeds a hundred. If the Cauſe, aſ⯑ſign'd for any Effect, be not ſufficient to produce it, we muſt either reject that Cauſe, or add to it ſuch Qualities as will give it a juſt Proportion to the Effect. But if we aſcribe to it farther Qualities, or affirm it capable of producing other Effects, we can only in⯑dulge the Licence of Conjecture, and arbitrarily ſup⯑poſe the Exiſtence of Qualities and Energies, without Reaſon or Authority.
[212] THE ſame Rule holds, whether the Cauſe aſſign'd be brute unconſcious Matter or a rational intelligent Be⯑ing. If the Cauſe be known only by the Effect, we never ought to aſſign to it any Qualities, beyond what are preciſely requiſite to produce the Effect; nor can we, by any Rules of juſt Reaſoning, return back from the Cauſe, and infer other Effects from it, beyond thoſe by which alone it is known to us. No one, merely from the Sight of one of Zeuxis's Pictures, could know, whether he was alſo a Statuary or Archi⯑tect, and was an Artiſt no leſs ſkilful in Stone and Marble than in Colours. The Talents and Taſte diſ⯑play'd in the particular Work before us; theſe we may ſafely conclude the Workman was poſſeſs'd of. The Cauſe muſt be proportion'd to the Effect: And if we exactly and preciſely proportion it, we ſhall never find in it any Qualities, that point farther, or afford an Inference concerning any other Deſign or Perform⯑ance. Such Qualities muſt be ſomewhat beyond what is merely requiſite to produce the Effect, which we examine.
ALLOWING, therefore, the Gods to be the Au⯑thors of the Exiſtence or Order of the Univerſe; it follows, that they poſſeſs that preciſe Degree of Power, Intelligence, and Benevolence, which appear in their Workmanſhip; but nothing farther can ever be prov'd, except we call in the Aſſiſtance of Exaggeration and [213] Flattery to ſupply the Defects of Argument and Rea⯑ſoning. So far as the Traces of any Attributes, at preſent, appear, ſo far may we conclude theſe Attri⯑butes to exiſt. The Suppoſition of farther Attributes is mere Hypotheſis; much more, the Suppoſition, that, in diſtant Periods of Place and Time, there has been, or will be a more magnificent Diſplay of theſe Attributes, and a Scheme or Order of Adminiſtration more ſuitable to ſuch imaginary Virtues. We can never be allow'd to mount up from the Univerſe, the Effect, to Jupiter, the Cauſe; and then deſcend downwards, to infer any new Effect from that Cauſe; as if the preſent Effects alone were not entirely worthy of the glorious Attributes we aſcribe to that Deity. The Knowledge of the Cauſe being deriv'd ſolely from the Effect, they muſt be exactly adjuſted to each other, and the one can never point towards any thing farther, or be the Foundation of any new Inference and Concluſion.
You find certain Phaenomena in Nature. You ſeek a Cauſe or Author. You imagine you have found him. You afterwards become ſo enamour'd of this Offspring of your Brain, that you imagine it impoſ⯑ſible but he muſt produce ſomething greater and more perfect than the preſent Scene of Things, which is ſo full of Ill and Diſorder. You forget, that this ſu⯑perlative Intelligence and Benevolence is entirely ima⯑ginary, [214] or at leaſt, without any Foundation in Rea⯑ſon, and that you have no ground to aſcribe to him any Qualities, but what you ſee he has actually ex⯑erted and diſplay'd in his Productions. Let your Gods, therefore, O Philoſophers, be ſuited to the pre⯑ſent Appearances of Nature: And preſume not to alter theſe Appearances by arbitrary Suppoſitions, in order to ſuit them to the Attributes, which you ſo fondly aſcribe to your Deities.
WHEN Prieſts and Poets, ſupported by your Au⯑thority, O Athenians, talk of a Golden or a Silver Age, which preceded the preſent Scene of Vice and Miſery, I hear them with Attention and with Reve⯑rence. But when Philoſophers, who pretend to ne⯑glect Authority, and to cultivate Reaſon, hold the ſame Diſcourſe, I own, I pay them not the ſame ob⯑ſequious Submiſſion and pious Deference. I aſk; Who carry'd them into the celeſtial Regions, who admitted them into the Councils of the Gods, who open'd to them the Book of Fate, that they thus raſhly affirm their Deities have executed, or will ex⯑ecute, any Purpoſe, beyond what has actually ap⯑pear'd? If they tell me, that they have mounted on the Steps or Scale of Reaſon, and by drawing Infe⯑rences from Effects to Cauſes, I ſtill inſiſt, that they have aided the Scale of Reaſon by the Wings of Ima⯑gination; otherwiſe they could not thus change their [215] Manner of Inference, and argue from Cauſes to Ef⯑fects; preſuming, that a more perfect Production than the preſent World would be more ſuitable to ſuch perfect Beings as the Gods, and forgetting, that they have no Reaſon to aſcribe to theſe celeſtial Beings any Perfection or any Attribute, but what can be found in the preſent World.
HENCE all the fruitleſs Induſtry to account for the ill Appearances of Nature, and ſave the Honour of the Gods; while we muſt acknowledge the Reality of that Evil and Diſorder, with which the World ſo much abounds. The obſtinate and intractable Qualities of Matter, we are told, or the Obſervance of general Laws, or ſome ſuch Reaſon is the ſole Cauſe, which controul'd the Power and Benevolence of Jupiter, and oblig'd him to create Mankind and every ſenſible Creature ſo imperfect and ſo unhappy. Theſe At⯑tributes, then, are, it ſeems, beforehand, taken for granted, in their greateſt Latitude. And upon that Suppoſition, I own, that ſuch Conjectures may, per⯑haps, be admitted as plauſible Solutions of the Phae⯑nomena. But ſtill I aſk; Why take theſe Attributes for granted, or why aſcribe to the Cauſe any Qualities but what actually appear in the Effect? Why torture your Brain to juſtify the Courſe of Nature upon Sup⯑poſitions, which, for aught you know, may be en⯑tirely imaginary, and of which there are to be found no Traces in the Courſe of Nature?
[216] THE religious Hypotheſis, therefore, muſt be con⯑ſider'd only as a particular Method of accounting for the viſible Phaenomena of the Univerſe: But no juſt Reaſoner will ever preſume to infer from it any ſingle Fact, and alter or add to theſe Phaenomena, in any ſingle Particular. If you think, that the Appearances of Things prove ſuch Cauſes, 'tis allowable for you to draw an Inference concerning their Exiſtence. In ſuch complicated and ſublime Subjects, every one ſhould be indulged in the Liberty of Conjecture and Argument. But here you ought to reſt. If you come backward, and arguing from your infer'd Cauſes, con⯑clude, that any other Fact has exiſted, or will exiſt, in the Courſe of Nature, which may ſerve for a fuller Diſplay of particular Attributes; I muſt admoniſh you, that you have departed from the Method of Reaſoning, attach'd to the preſent Subject, and muſt certainly have added ſomething to the Attributes of the Cauſe, beyond what appears in the Effect; otherwiſe you could never, with tolerable Senſe or Propriety, add any thing to the Effect, which might render it more worthy of the Cauſe.
WHERE, then, is the Odiouſneſs of that Doctrine, which I teach in my School, or rather, which I ex⯑amine in my Gardens? Or what do you find in this whole Queſtion, wherrein the Security of good Mo⯑rals, [217] or the Peace and Order of Society is in the leaſt concern'd?
I DENY a Providence, you ſay, and ſupreme Go⯑vernor of the World, who guides the Courſe of E⯑vents, and puniſhes the Vicious with Infamy, and Diſappointment, and rewards the Virtuous with Ho⯑nour and Succeſs, in all their Undertakings. But ſurely, I deny not the Courſe itſelf of Events, which lies open to every one's Enquiry and Examination. I acknowledge, that, in the preſent Order of Things, Virtue is attended with more Peace of Mind than Vice; and meets with a more favourable Reception from the World. I am ſenſible, that, according to the paſt Experience of Mankind, Friendſhip is the chief Joy of human Life, and Moderation the only Source of Tranquillity and Happineſs. I never ba⯑lance betwixt the virtuous and the vicious Courſe of Life; but am ſenſible, that, to a well-diſpos'd Mind, every Advantage is on the Side of the former: And what can you ſay more, allowing all your Suppoſi⯑tions and Reaſonings? You indeed tell me, that this Diſpoſition of Things proceeds from Intelligence and Deſign. But whatever it proceeds from, the Diſpo⯑ſition itſelf, on which depends our Happineſs or Mi⯑ſery, and conſequently our Conduct and Deportment in Life, is ſtill the ſame. 'Tis ſtill open for me, as well as you, to regulate my Behaviour, by my paſt [218] Experience of Events. And if you affirm, that, while a divine Providence is allow'd, and a ſupreme diſtri⯑butive Juſtice in the Univerſe, I ought to expect ſome more particular Favour of the Good, and Pu⯑niſhment of the Bad, beyond the ordinary Courſe of Events; I here find the ſame Fallacy, which I have before endeavour'd to detect. You perſiſt in ima⯑gining, that, if we grant that divine Exiſtence, for which you ſo earneſtly contend, you may ſafely infer Conſequences from it, and add ſomething to the ex⯑perienc'd Order of Nature, by arguing from the Attri⯑butes, which you aſcribe to your Gods. You ſeem not to remember, that all your Reaſonings on this Subject can only be drawn from Effects to Cauſes; and that every Argument, deduc'd from Cauſes to Ef⯑fects, muſt of Neceſſity be a groſs Sophyſm; ſince it is impoſſible for you to know any thing of the Cauſe, but what you have antecedently, not infer'd, but diſco⯑ver'd to the full, in the Effect.
BUT what muſt a Philoſopher judge of thoſe vain Reaſoners, who, inſtead of regarding the preſent Life and the preſent Scene of Things, as the ſole Object of their Contemplation, ſo far reverſe the whole Courſe of Nature, as to render it merely a Paſſage to ſome⯑thing farther; a Porch, which leads to a greater, and vaſtly different Building; a Prologue, which ſerves merely to introduce the Piece, and give it more [219] Grace and Propriety? Whence, do you think, can ſuch Philoſophers derive their Idea of the Gods? From their own Conceit and Imagination ſurely. For if they deriv'd it from the preſent Phaenomena, it would never point to any thing farther, but muſt be exactly adjuſted to them. That the Divinity may poſſibly poſſeſs Attributes, which we have never ſeen exerted; may be govern'd by Principles of Action, which we cannot diſcover to be ſatisfy'd: All this will freely be allow'd. But ſtill this is mere Poſſibility and Hypotheſis. We never can have Reaſon to infer any Attributes, or any Principles of Action in him, but ſo far as we know them to have been exerted and ſatisfy'd.
Are there any Marks of a diſtributive Juſtice in the World? If you anſwer in the Affirmative, I conclude, that, ſince Juſtice here exerts itſelf, it is ſatisfy'd. If you reply in the Negative, I conclude, that you have then no Reaſon to aſcribe Juſtice to the Gods. If you hold a Medium betwixt Affirmation and Negation, by ſaying, that the Juſtice of the Gods, at preſent, exerts itſelf in Part, but not in its full Extent; I anſwer, that you have no Reaſon to give it any particular Ex⯑tent, but only ſo far as you ſee it, at preſent, exert itſelf.
[220] THUS I bring the Diſpute, O Athenians, to a ſhort Iſſue with my Antagoniſts. The Courſe of Nature lies open to my Contemplation as well as theirs. The experienc'd Train of Events is the great Standard, by which we all regulate our Conduct. Nothing elſe can be appeal'd to, in the Field, or in the Senate. Nothing elſe ought ever to be heard of, in the School, or in the Cloſet. In vain, would our limited Under⯑ſtandings break thro' theſe Bounds, which are too narrow for our fond Imagination. While we argue from the Courſe of Nature, and infer a particular in⯑telligent Cauſe, which firſt beſtow'd, and ſtill pre⯑ſerves Order in the Univerſe, we embrace a Principle, which is both uncertain and uſeleſs. 'Tis uncertain; becauſe the Subject lies entirely beyond the Reach of human Experience. 'Tis uſeleſs; becauſe our Know⯑ledge of this Cauſe being deriv'd entirely from the Courſe of Nature, we can never, according to any Rules of juſt Reaſoning, return back from the Cauſe with any new Inferences, or making Additions to the common and experienc'd Courſe of Nature, eſtabliſh any new Principles of Conduct and Behaviour.
I OBSERVE, (ſays I, finding he had finiſh'd his Harangue) that you neglect not the Artifice of the Demagogues of old; and as you was pleas'd to make me ſtand for the People, you inſinuate yourſelf into [221] my Favour, by embracing thoſe Principles, to which, you know, I have always expreſs'd a particular At⯑tachment. But allowing you to make Experience (as indeed I think you ought) the only Standard of your Judgment concerning this, and all other Queſtions of Fact; I doubt not but it may be poſſible, from the very ſame Experience you appeal to, to refute this Reaſoning, which you have put into the Mouth of Epicurus. If you ſaw, for Inſtance, a half-finiſh'd Building, ſurrounded with Heaps of Bricks and Stones and Mortar, and all the Inſtruments of Maſonry; could you not infer from the Effect, that it was a Work of Deſign and Contrivance? And could you not return again, from this infer'd Cauſe, to infer new Additions to the Effect, and conclude, that the Build⯑ing would ſoon be finiſh'd, and receive all the farther Improvements, which Art could beſtow upon it? If you ſaw, upon the Sea-ſhore, the Print of one human Foot, you would conclude, that a Man had paſs'd that Way, and that he had alſo left the Traces of the other Foot, tho' effac'd by the rolling of the Sands or Inundation of the Waters. Why then do you refuſe to admit the ſame Method of Reaſoning with regard to the Order of Nature? Conſider the World and the preſent Life only as an imperfect Building, from which you can infer a ſuperior Intelligence; and arguing from that ſuperior Intelligence, which can leave no⯑thing imperfect; why may you not infer a more fi⯑niſh'd [222] Scheme or Plan, which will receive its Com⯑pletion in ſome diſtant Period of Space or Time? Are not theſe Methods of Reaſoning exactly parallel? And under what Pretext, can you embrace the one, while you reject the other?
THE infinite Difference of the Subjects, reply'd he, is a ſufficient Foundation for this Difference in my Arguments and Concluſions. In Works of human Art and Contrivance, 'tis allowable to advance from the Effect, to the Cauſe, and returning back from the Cauſe, form new Inferences concerning the Effect, and examine the Alterations, which it has probably undergone, or may ſtill undergo. But what is the Foundation of this Method of Reaſoning? Plainly this; that Man is a Being, whom we know by Expe⯑rience, whoſe Motives and Deſigns we are acquainted with, and whoſe Projects and Inclinations have a cer⯑tain Connexion and Coherence, according to the Laws, which Nature has eſtabliſh'd for the Government of ſuch a Creature. When, therefore, we find, that any Work has proceeded from the Skill and Induſtry of Man; as we are otherwiſe acquainted with the Nature of the Animal; we can draw a hundred Infe⯑rences concerning what may be expected from him; and theſe Inferences will all be founded on Experience and Obſervation. But did we know Man only from the ſingle Work or Production, which we examine, [223] 'twere impoſſible for us to argue in this Manner; be⯑cauſe our Knowledge of all the Qualities, which we aſcribe to him, being in that Caſe deriv'd from the Production, 'tis impoſſible they could point to any thing farther, or be the Foundation of any new Infe⯑rences. The Print of a Foot in the Sand can only prove, when conſider'd alone, that there was ſome Pigure adapted to it, by which it was produc'd: But the Print of a human Foot proves likewiſe, from our other Experience, that there was probably another Foot, which alſo left its Impreſſion, tho' eſſac'd by Time or other Accidents. Here we mount from the Effect to the Cauſe; and deſcending again from the Cauſe, infer Alterations in the Effect; but this is not a Continuation of the ſame ſimple Chain of Reaſoning. We comprehend in this Caſe a hundred other Experiences and Obſervations, concerning the uſual Figure and Members of that Species of Ani⯑mal, without which this Method of Argument muſt be conſider'd as altogether fallacious and ſophiſtical.
THE Caſe is not the ſame with our Reaſonings from the Works of Nature. The Deity is known to us only by his Productions, and is a ſingle Being in the Univerſe, not comprehended under any Species or Genus, from whoſe experienc'd Attributes or Qua⯑lities, we can by Analogy, infer any Attribute or Qua⯑lity in him. As the Univerſe ſhows Wiſdom and Goodneſs, we infer Wiſdom and Goodneſs: As it [224] ſhows a particular Degree of theſe Perfections, we infer a particular Degree of them, preciſely adapted to the Effect we examine. But farther Attributes or farther Degrees of the ſame Attributes, we can never be authoriz'd to infer or ſuppoſe, by any Rules of juſt Reaſoning. Now without ſome ſuch Licence of Sup⯑poſition, 'tis impoſſible for us to argue from the Cauſe, or infer any Alteration in the Effect, beyond what has immediately fallen under our Obſervation. Greater Good produc'd by this Being muſt ſtill prove a greater Degree of Goodneſs: More impartial Diſtribution of Rewards and Puniſhments muſt proceed from a ſupe⯑rior Regard to Juſtice and Equity. Every ſuppos'd Addition to the Works of Nature makes an Addition to the Attributes of the Author of Nature; and con⯑ſequently, being altogether unſupported by any Rea⯑ſon or Argument, can never be admitted but as mere Conjecture and Hypotheſis.
IN general, it may, I think, be eſtabliſh'd as a Maxim, that where any Cauſe is known only by its particular Effects, it muſt be impoſſible to infer any new Effects from that Cauſe; ſince the Qualities, which are requiſite to produce theſe new Effects, along with the former, muſt either be different, or ſuperior, or of more extenſive Operation, than thoſe which ſimply produc'd the Effect, whence alone the Cauſe [225] is ſuppos'd to be known to us*. We can never, therefore, have any Reaſon to ſuppoſe the Exiſtence of theſe Qualities.
THE great Source of our Miſtake in this Subject, and of the unbounded Licence of Conjecture, which we indulge, is, that we tacitly conſider ourſelves, as in the Place of the ſupreme Being, and conclude, that he will, on every Occaſion, obſerve the ſame Conduct, which we ourſelves, in his Situation, would have em⯑brac'd as reaſonable and eligible. But beſides, that the ordinary Courſe of Nature may convince us, that almoſt every Thing is regulated by Principles and Maxims very different from ours; beſides this, I ſay, it muſt evidently appear contrary to all Rules of Ana⯑logy to reaſon from the Intentions and Projects of [226] Men to thoſe of a Being ſo different, and ſo much ſu⯑perior. In human Nature, there is a certain expe⯑rienc'd Conſiſtency and Coherence of Deſigns and In⯑clinations; ſo that when, from any Facts, we have diſcover'd one Aim or Intention of any Man, it may often be reaſonable, from Experience, to infer an⯑other, and draw a long Chain of Concluſions concern⯑ing his paſt or future Conduct. But this Method of Reaſoning never can take place with regard to a Being, ſo remote and incomprehenſible, who bears leſs Ana⯑logy to any other Being in the Univerſe than the Sun to a waxen Taper, and who diſcovers himſelf only by ſome faint Traces or Outlines, beyond which we have no Authority to aſcribe to him any Attribute or Per⯑fection. What we imagine to be a ſuperior Perfec⯑tion may really be a Defect. Or were it ever ſo much a Perfection, the aſcribing it to the ſupreme Being, where it appears not to have been really exerted, to the full, in his Works, ſavours more of Flattery and Panegyric, than of juſt Reaſoning and ſound Philoſo⯑phy. All the Philoſophy, therefore, in the World, and all the Religion, which is nothing but a Species of Philoſophy, will never be able to carry us beyond the uſual Courſe of Experience, or give us different Mea⯑ſures of Conduct and Behaviour, from thoſe which are furniſh'd by Reflections on common Life. No new Fact can ever be infer'd from the religious Hypotheſis; no Event foreſeen or foretold; no Reward or Puniſh⯑ment [227] expected or dreaded, beyond what is already known by Practice and Obſervation. So that my Apology for Epicurus will ſtill appear ſolid and ſatis⯑factory; nor have the political Intereſts of Society any Connexion with the philoſophical Diſputes concerning Metaphyſics and Religion.
THERE is ſtill one Circumſtance, reply'd I, which you ſeem to have overlook'd. Tho' I ſhould allow your Premiſes, I muſt ſtill deny your Concluſion. You conclude, that religious Doctrines and Reaſonings can have no Influence on Life, becauſe they ought to have no Influence; never conſidering, that Men reaſon not in the ſame Manner you do, but draw many Con⯑ſequences from the Belief of a divine Exiſtence, and ſuppoſe, that the Deity will inflict Puniſhments on Vice, and beſtow Rewards on Virtue, beyond what appears in the ordinary Courſe of Nature. Whether this Reaſoning of theirs be juſt or not, is no Matter. Its Influence on their Life and Conduct muſt ſtill be the ſame. And thoſe, who attempt to diſabuſe them of ſuch Prejudices, may, for aught I know, be good Reaſoners, but I cannot allow them to be good Citi⯑zens and Politicians; ſince they free Men from one Reſtraint upon their Paſſions, and make the Infringe⯑ment of the Laws of Equity and Society, in one Re⯑ſpect, more eaſy and ſecure.
[228] AFTER all, I may, perhaps, agree to your gene⯑ral Concluſion in favour of Liberty, tho' upon diffe⯑rent Premiſes from thoſe, on which you endeavour to found it. I think the State ought to tolerate every Principle of Philoſophy; nor is there an Inſtance of any Government's ſuffering in its political Intereſts by ſuch Indulgence. There is no Enthuſiaſm among Philoſophers; their Doctrines are not very alluring to the People; and no Reſtraint can be put upon their Reaſonings, but what muſt be of dangerous Conſe⯑quence to the Sciences, and even to the State, by paving the Way for Perſecution and Oppreſſion in Points, wherein the Generality of Mankind are more deeply intereſted and concern'd.
BUT there occurs to me, (continu'd I) with regard to your main Topic a Difficulty, which I ſhall juſt propoſe to you, without inſiſting on it, leſt it lead into Reaſonings of too nice and delicate a Nature. In a Word, I much doubt, whether it be poſſible for a Cauſe to be known only by its Effect (as you have all along ſuppos'd) or to be of ſo ſingular and particular a Nature as to have no Parallel and no Similarity with any other Cauſe or Object, that has ever fallen under our Obſervation. 'Tis only when two Species of Ob⯑jects are found to be conſtantly conjoin'd, that we can infer the one from the other; and were an Effect preſented, which was entirely ſingular, and could not [229] be comprehended under any known Species; I do not ſee, that we could form any Conjecture or Inference at all concerning its Cauſe. If Experience and Ob⯑ſervation and Analogy be, indeed, the only Guides we can reaſonably follow in Inferences of this Nature; both the Effect and Cauſe muſt bear a Similarity and Reſemblance to other Effects and Cauſes, which we know, and which we have found, in many Inſtances, to be conjoin'd with each other. I leave it to your own Reflections to proſecute the Conſequences of this Principle. I ſhall juſt obſerve, that as the Antago⯑niſts of Epicurus always ſuppoſe the Univerſe, an Ef⯑fect quite ſingular and unparallel'd, to be the Proof of a Deity, a Cauſe no leſs ſingular and unparallel'd; your Reaſonings, upon that Suppoſition, ſeem, at leaſt, to merit our Attention. There is, I own, ſome Dif⯑ficulty, how we can ever return from the Cauſe to the Effect, and reaſoning from our Ideas of the former, infer any Alteration on, or Addition to, the latter.
THERE is not a greater Number of philoſo⯑phical Reaſonings, diſplay'd upon any Subject, than thoſe to prove the Exiſtence of a Deity, and re⯑fute the Fallacies of Atheiſts; and yet the moſt reli⯑gious Philoſophers ſtill diſpute whether any Man can be ſo blinded as to be a ſpeculative Atheiſt. How ſhall we reconcile theſe Contradictions? The Knight-Errants, who wander'd about to clear the World of Dragons and Giants, never entertain'd the leaſt Doubt concerning the Exiſtence of theſe Monſters.
THE Sceptic is another Enemy of Religion, who naturally provokes the Indignation of all Divines and [232] graver Philoſophers; tho' 'tis certain no one ever met with any ſuch abſurd Creature, or convers'd with a Man, who had no Opinion or Principle concerning any Subject, either of Action or Speculation. This begets a very natural Queſtion; What is meant by a Sceptic? And how far it is poſſible to puſh theſe phi⯑loſophical Principles of Doubt and Uncertainty?
THERE is a Species of Scepticiſm, antecedent to all Study and Philoſophy, which is much inculcated by Des Cartes and others, as a ſovereign Preſervative a⯑gainſt Error and precipitate Judgment. It recom⯑mends an univerſal Doubt, not only of all our former Opinions and Principles, but alſo of our very Facul⯑ties; of whoſe Veracity, ſay they, we muſt aſſure ourſelves, by a Chain of Reaſoning, deduc'd from ſome original Principle, which cannot poſſibly be fal⯑lacious or deceitful. But neither is there any ſuch o⯑riginal Principle, which has a Prerogative above others, that are ſelf-evident and convincing: Or if there were, could we advance a Step beyond it, but by the Uſe of thoſe very Faculties, of which we are ſuppos'd to be already diffident. The Carteſian Doubt, therefore, were it ever poſſible, to be attain'd by any human Creature (as it plainly is not) would be altogether in⯑curable; and no Reaſoning could ever bring us to a State of Aſſurance and Conviction upon any Subject.
[233] IT muſt, however, be confeſs'd, that this Species of Scepticiſm, when more moderate, may be under⯑ſtood in a very reaſonable Senſe, and is a neceſſary Preparative to the Study of Philoſophy, by preſerving a proper Impartiality in our Judgments, and weaning our Minds from all thoſe Prejudices, which we may have imbib'd from Education or raſh Opinion. To begin with clear and ſelf-evident Principles, to ad⯑vance by timorous and ſure Steps, to review frequently our Concluſions, and examine accurately all their Conſequences; tho' by this Means we ſhall make both a ſlow and a ſhort Progreſs in our Syſtems; is the only Method, by which we can ever hope to reach Truth, and attain a proper Stability and Certainty in our Determinations.
THERE is another Species of Scepticiſm, conſequent to Science and Enquiry; where Men are ſuppos'd to have diſcover'd, either the abſolute Fallaciouſneſs of their Mental Faculties, or their Unfitneſs to reach any fix'd Determination in all thoſe curious Subjects of Speculation, about which they are commonly em⯑ploy'd. Even our very Senſes are brought into Diſ⯑pute by this Species of Philoſophers; and the Maxims of common Life are ſubjected to the ſame Doubt as the moſt profound Principles or Concluſions of Meta⯑phyſics and Theology. As theſe paradoxical Tenets (if they may be call'd ſo) are to be met with in ſome [234] Philoſophers, and the Refutation of them in ſeveral, they naturally excite our Curioſity, and make us en⯑quire into the Arguments, on which they may be founded.
I NEED not inſiſt upon the more trite Topics, em⯑ploy'd by the Sceptics in all Ages, againſt the Evi⯑dence of Senſe; ſuch as thoſe deriv'd from the Im⯑perfection and Fallaciouſneſs of our Organs, on num⯑berleſs Occaſions; the crooked Appearance of an Oar in Water; the various Aſpects of Objects, according to their different Diſtances; the double Images, that ariſe from the preſſing one Eye with the Finger; with many other Appearances of a like Nature. Theſe ſceptical Topics, indeed, are only ſufficient to prove, that the Senſes alone are not implicitely to be de⯑pended on; but that we muſt correct their Evidence by Reaſon, and by Conſiderations, deriv'd from the Nature of the Medium, the Diſtance of the Object, and the Diſpoſition of the Organ, in order to render them, within their Sphere, the proper Criteria of Truth and Falſhood. There are other more pro⯑found Arguments againſt the Senſes, which admit not of ſo eaſy a Solution.
IT ſeems evident, that Men are carry'd, by a na⯑tural Inſtinct or Prepoſſeſſion, to repoſe Faith in their Senſes; and that, without any Reaſoning, or even al⯑moſt [235] before the Uſe of Reaſon, we always ſuppoſe an external Univerſe, which depends not on our Percep⯑tion, but would exiſt, tho' we and every ſenſible Crea⯑ture were abſent or annihilated. Even the Animal Creation are govern'd by a like Opinion, and preſerve this Belief of external Objects, in all their Thoughts, Deſigns, and Actions.
IT ſeems alſo evident, that when Men follow this blind and powerful Inſtinct of Nature, they always ſup⯑poſe the very Images, preſented by the Senſes, to be the external Objects, and never entertain any Suſpi⯑cion, that the one are nothing but Repreſentations of the other. This very Table, which we ſee white, and which we feel hard, is believ'd to exiſt, indepen⯑dent of our Perception, and to be ſomething external to our Mind, which perceives it. Our Preſence be⯑ſtows not Being on it: Our Abſence annihilates it not. It preſerves its Exiſtence, uniform and entire, inde⯑pendent of the Situation of intelligent Beings, who perceive or contemplate it.
BUT this univerſal and primary Opinion of all Men is ſoon deſtroy'd by the ſlighteſt Philoſophy, which teaches us, that nothing can ever be preſent to the Mind but an Image or Perception, and that the Senſes are only the Inlets, thro' which theſe Images are receiv'd, without being ever able to produce any immediate In⯑tercourſe [236] betwixt the Mind and the Object. The Table we ſee ſeems to diminiſh as we remove farther from it: But the real Table, which exiſts, indepen⯑dent of us, ſuffers no Alteration: It was, therefore, nothing but its Image, which was preſent to the Mind. Theſe are the obvious Dictates of Reaſon; and no Man, who reflects, ever doubted, that the Exiſtences, which we conſider, when we ſay, this Houſe and that Tree, are nothing but Perceptions in the Mind, and fleeting Copies or Repreſentations of other Exiſtences, which remain uniform and independent.
SO far, then, are we neceſſitated by Reaſoning to depart from, or contradict the primary Inſtincts of Nature, and embrace a new Syſtem with regard to the Evidence of our Senſes. But here Philoſophy finds itſelf extremely embarraſs'd, when it would juſtify this new Syſtem, and obviate the Cavils and Objec⯑tions of the Sceptics. It can no longer plead the in⯑fallible and irreſiſtible Inſtinct of Nature: For that led us to a quite different Syſtem, which is acknow⯑ledg'd fallible and even erroneous. And to juſtify this pretended philoſophical Syſtem, by a Chain of clear and convincing Argument, or even any Appear⯑ance of Argument, exceeds the Power of all human Capacity.
[237] BY what Argument can it be prov'd, that the Per⯑ceptions of the Mind muſt be caus'd by external Ob⯑jects, entirely different from, tho' reſembling them (if that be poſſible) and could not ariſe either from the Energy of the Mind itſelf, or from the Suggeſtion of ſome inviſible and unknown Spirit, or from ſome other Cauſe ſtill more unknown to us? 'Tis acknow⯑ledg'd, that, in fact, many of theſe Perceptions ariſe not from any thing external, as in Dreams, Madneſs, and other Diſeaſes. And nothing can be more inex⯑plicable than the Manner, in which Body ſhould ſo operate upon Mind as ever to convey an Image of it⯑ſelf to a Subſtance ſuppos'd of ſo different, and even contrary a Nature.
'TIS a Queſtion of Fact, whether the Perceptions of the Senſes be produc'd by external Objects, re⯑ſembling them: How ſhall this Queſtion be deter⯑min'd? By Experience ſurely, as all other Queſtions of a like Nature. But here Experience is, and muſt be entirely ſilent. The Mind has never any thing preſent to it but the Perceptions, and cannot poſſibly reach any Experience of their Connexion with Objects. The Suppoſition of ſuch a Connexion is, therefore, without any Foundation in Reaſoning.
[238] To have recourſe to the Veracity of the ſupreme Being, in order to prove the Veracity of our Senſes, is ſurely making a very unexpected Circuit. If his Veracity were at all concern'd in this Matter, our Senſes would be entirely infallible; becauſe it is not poſſible he can ever deceive. Not to mention, that if the external World be once call'd in doubt, we ſhall be at a loſs to find Arguments, by which we may prove the Exiſtence of that Being or any of his Attri⯑butes.
This therefore is a Topic, in which the profounder and more philoſophical Sceptics will always triumph, when they endeavour to introduce an univerſal Doubt into all Subjects of human Knowledge and Enquiry. Do you follow the Inſtincts and Propenſities of Nature, may they ſay, in aſſenting to the Veracity of Senſe? But theſe lead you to believe, that the very Percep⯑tion or ſenſible Image is the external Object. Do you diſclaim this, in order to embrace a more rational Principle, that the Perceptions are only Repreſenta⯑tions of ſomething external? You here depart from your natural Propenſities and more obvious Senti⯑ments; and yet are not able to ſatisfy your Reaſon, which can never find any convincing Argument from Experience to prove, that the Perceptions are con⯑nected with any external Objects.
[239] THERE is another Sceptical Topic of a like Na⯑ture, deriv'd from the moſt profound Philoſophy; which might merit our Attention were it requiſite to dive ſo deep, in order to diſcover Arguments and Reaſonings, that can ſerve ſo little any ſerious Purpoſe or Intention. 'Tis univerſally allow'd by modern Enquirers, that all the ſenſible Qualities of Objects, ſuch as hard, ſoft, hot, cold, white, black, &c. are merely ſecondary, and exiſt not in the Objects them⯑ſelves, but are Perceptions in the Mind, without any external Archetype or Model, which they repreſent. If this be allow'd, with regard to ſecondary Qualities, it muſt alſo follow with regard to the ſuppos'd pri⯑mary Qualities of Extenſion and Solidity; nor can the latter be any more entitled to that Denomination than the former. The Idea of Extenſion is entirely ac⯑quir'd from the Senſes of Sight and Feeling; and if all the Qualities, perceiv'd by the Senſes, be in the Mind, not in the Object, the ſame Concluſion muſt reach the Idea of Extenſion, which is wholly depen⯑dent on the ſenſible Ideas or the Ideas of ſecondary Qualities. Nothing can ſave us from this Concluſion, but the aſſerting, that the Ideas of thoſe primary Qua⯑lities are attain'd by Abſtraction; which, if we ex⯑amine accurately, we ſhall find to be unintelligible, and even abſurd. An Extenſion, that is neither tan⯑gible nor viſible, cannot poſſibly be conceiv'd: and a tangible or viſible Extenſion, which is neither hard [240] nor ſoft, black nor white, is equally beyond the Reach of human Conception. Let any Man try to conceive a Triangle in general, which is neither Iſo⯑celes, nor Scalenum, nor has any particular Length nor Proportion of Sides; and he will ſoon perceive the Abſurdity of all the ſcholaſtic Notions with regard to Abſtraction and general Ideas*.
THUS the firſt philoſophical Objection to the Evi⯑dence of Senſe or to the Opinion of external Exiſtence conſiſts in this, that ſuch an Opinion, if reſted on na⯑tural Inſtinct, is contrary to Reaſon, and if refer'd to Reaſon, is contrary to natural Inſtinct, and at the ſame time, carries no rational Evidence with it, to convince an impartial Enquirer. The ſecond Objec⯑tion goes farther, and repreſents this Opinion as con⯑trary [241] to Reaſon; at leaſt, if it be a Principle of Rea⯑ſon, that all ſenſible Qualities are in the Mind, not in the Object.
IT may ſeem a very extravagant Attempt of the Sceptics to deſtroy Reaſon by Argument and Ratioci⯑nation; yet this is the grand Scope of all their En⯑quiries and Diſputes. They endeavour to find Ob⯑jections, both to our abſtract Reaſonings, and to thoſe which regard Matter of Fact and Exiſtence.
THE chief Objection againſt all abſtract Reaſonings is deriv'd from the Nature of Space and Time, which, in common Life and to a careleſs View, ſeem very clear and intelligible, but when they paſs thro' the Scrutiny of the profound Sciences (and they are the chief Ob⯑ject of theſe Sciences) afford Principles and Notions full of Abſurdity and Contradiction. No prieſtly Dogmas, invented on purpoſe to tame and ſubdue the rebellious Reaſon of Mankind, ever ſhock'd common Senſe more than the Doctrine of the infinite Diviſibi⯑lity of Extenſion, with all its Conſequences; as they are pompouſly diſplay'd by all Geometricians and Metaphyſicians, with a kind of Triumph and Exul⯑tation. A real Quantity, infinitely leſs than any finite [242] Quantity, containing Quantities, infinitely leſs than itſelf, and ſo on, in infinitum; this is an Edifice ſo bold and prodigious, that it is too weighty for any pretended Demonſtration to ſupport, becauſe it ſhocks the cleareſt and moſt natural Principles of human Reaſon*. But what renders the Matter more extra⯑ordinary, is, that theſe abſurd Opinions are ſupported by a Chain of Reaſon, the cleareſt and moſt natural; nor does it ſeem poſſible for us to allow the Premiſes, without admitting the Conſequences. Nothing can be more convincing and ſatisfactory than all the Con⯑cluſions concerning the Properties of Circles and Tri⯑angles; and yet, when theſe are once receiv'd, how can we deny, that the Angle of Contact betwixt a Circle and its Tangent is infinitely leſs than any recti⯑lineal Angle, that as you may encreaſe the Diameter of the Circle in infinitum, this Angle of Contact be⯑comes [243] ſtill leſs, even in infinitum, and that the Angle of Contact betwixt other Curves and their Tangents may be infinitely leſs than thoſe betwixt any Circle and its Tangent, and ſo on, in infinitum? The Demonſtra⯑tion of theſe Principles ſeems as unexceptionable as that which proves the three Angles of a Triangle to be equal to two right ones; tho' the latter Opinion be natural and eaſy, and the former big with Contra⯑diction and Abſurdity. Reaſon here ſeems to be thrown into a kind of Amazement and Suſpence, which, without the Suggeſtions of any Sceptic, gives her a Diffidence of herſelf, and of the Ground ſhe treads on. She ſees a full Light, which illuminates certain Places; but that Light borders upon the moſt profound Darkneſs. And betwixt theſe ſhe is ſo dazzled and confounded, that ſhe ſcarce can pronounce with Certainty and Aſſurance concerning any one Object.
THE Abſurdity of theſe bold Determinations of the abſtract Sciences becomes, if poſſible, ſtill more pal⯑pable with regard to Time than Extenſion. An in⯑finite Number of real Parts of Time, paſſing in Suc⯑ceſſion, and exhauſted one after another, is ſo evident a Contradiction, that no Man, one ſhould think, whoſe Judgment is not corrupted, inſtead of being improv'd, by the Sciences, would ever be able to ad⯑mit of it,
[244] YET ſtill Reaſon muſt remain reſtleſs and unquiet, even with regard to that Scepticiſm, to which ſhe is led by theſe Abſurdities and Contradictions. How any clear, diſtinct Idea can contain Circumſtances, contradictory to itſelf, or to any other clear, diſtinct Idea, is abſolutely incomprehenſible; and is, per⯑haps, as abſurd as any Propoſition, which can be form'd. So that nothing can be more ſceptical, or more full of Doubt and Heſitation, than this Scep⯑ticiſm itſelf, which ariſes from ſome of the abſurd Concluſions of Geometry or the Science of Quan⯑tity*.
[245] THE ſceptical Objections to moral Evidence or to the Reaſonings concerning Matter of Fact are either popular or philoſophical. The popular Objections are deriv'd from the natural Weakneſs of human Under⯑ſtanding; the contradictory Opinions, which have been entertain'd in different Ages and Nations; the Variations of our Judgment in Sickneſs and Health, Youth and Old-age, Proſperity and Adverſity; the perpetual Contradiction of each particular Man's Opi⯑nions [246] and Sentiments; with many other Topics of that Kind. 'Tis needleſs to inſiſt farther on this Head. Theſe Objections are but weak. For as in common Life, we reaſon every Moment concerning Fact and Exiſtence, and cannot poſſibly ſubſiſt, with⯑out continually employing this Species of Argument, any popular Objections, deriv'd from thence, muſt be inſufficient to deſtroy that Evidence. The great Subverter of Pyrrhoniſm or the exceſſive Principles of Scepticiſm, is Action, and Employment, and the Oc⯑cupations of common Life. They may flouriſh and triumph in the Schools; where it is, indeed, difficult, if not impoſſible to refute them. But as ſoon as they leave the Shade, and by the Preſence of the real Ob⯑jects, which actuate our Paſſions and Sentiments, are put in Oppoſition to the more powerful Principles of our Nature, they vaniſh, like Smoak, and leave the moſt determin'd Sceptic in the ſame Condition as other Mortals.
THE Sceptic, therefore, had better keep in his proper Sphere, and diſplay thoſe philoſophical Objec⯑tions, which ariſe from more profound Reſearches. Here he ſeems to have ample Matter of Triumph; while he juſtly inſiſts, that all our Evidence for any Matter of Fact, which lies beyond the Teſtimony of Senſe or Memory, is deriv'd entirely from the Rela⯑tion of Cauſe and Effect; that we have no other Idea [247] of this Relation than that of two Objects, which have been frequently conjoin'd together; that we have no Arguments to convince us, that Objects, which have, in our Experience, been frequently conjoin'd, will likewiſe, in other Inſtances, be conjoin'd in the ſame Manner; and that nothing leads us to this Inference but Cuſtom or a certain Inſtinct of our Nature, which 'tis indeed difficult to reſiſt; but which, like other Inſtincts, may alſo be fallacious and deceitful. While the Sceptic inſiſts upon theſe Topics, he ſhows his Force, or rather, indeed, his own and our Weakneſs; and ſeems, for the Time, at leaſt, to deſtroy all Aſſur⯑ance and Conviction. Theſe Arguments might be diſ⯑play'd at a greater Length, if any durable Good or Benefit to Society could ever be expected to reſult from them.
FOR here is the chief and moſt confounding Ob⯑jection to exceſſive Scepticiſm, that no durable Good can ever reſult from it; while it remains in its full Force and Vigour. We need only aſk ſuch a Sceptic, What his Meaning is? And what he propoſes by all theſe curious Reſearches? He is immediately at a ſtand, and knows not what to anſwer. A Copernican or Ptolemaic, who ſupports, each his different Syſtem of Aſtronomy, may hope to produce a Conviction, which will remain, conſtant and durable, with his Audience. [248] A Stoic or Epicurean diſplays Principles, which may not only be durable, but which have a mighty Effect on Conduct and Behaviour. But a Pyrrhonian cannot propoſe, that his Philoſophy will have any conſtant Influence on the Mind: Or if it had, that its Influ⯑ence would be beneficial to Society. On the contrary, he muſt acknowledge, if he will acknowledge any thing, that all human Life muſt immediately periſh, were his Principles univerſally and ſteadily to prevail. All Diſcourſe, all Action muſt immediately ceaſe; and Men remain in a total Lethargy, till the Neceſ⯑ſities of Nature, unſatisfy'd, put an end to their mi⯑ſerable Exiſtence. 'Tis true; ſo fatal an Event is very little to be dreaded. Nature is always too ſtrong for Principle. And tho' a Pyrrhonian may throw himſelf or others into a momentary Amazement and Confuſion by his profound Reaſonings; the firſt and moſt trivial Event in Life will immediately put to flight all his Doubts and Scruples, and leave him the ſame, in every Point of Action and Speculation, with the Philoſophers of every other Sect, or with thoſe who never concern'd themſelves with any philoſophical Reſearches. When he awakes from his Dream, he will be the firſt to join in the Laugh againſt himſelf, and to confeſs, that all his Objections are mere Amuſe⯑ments, and can have no other Tendency than to ſhow us the whimſical Condition of Mankind, who muſt [249] act and reaſon and believe; tho' they are not able, by their moſt diligent Enquiry, to ſatisfy themſelves concerning the Foundation of theſe Operations, or to remove the Objections that may be rais'd againſt them.
THERE is, indeed, a more mitigated Scepticiſm or academical Philoſophy, which may be both durable and uſeful, and which may, in Part, be the Reſult of this Pyrrhoniſm, or exceſſive Scepticiſm, when its un⯑diſtinguiſh'd Doubts are, in ſome meaſure, corrected by common Senſe and Reflection. The greateſt Part of Mankind are naturally apt to be affirmative and dog⯑matical in their Opinions; and while they ſee Objects only on one Side, and have no Idea of any counter⯑balancing Arguments, they throw themſelves precipi⯑tately into the Principles, which they are inclin'd to; nor have they any Indulgence for thoſe who entertain oppoſite Sentiments. To heſitate or balance per⯑plexes their Underſtanding, checks their Paſſion, and ſuſpends their Actions. They are, therefore, im⯑patient till they get out of a State of Mind, which to them is ſo uneaſy; and they think they can never re⯑move themſelves far enough from it, by the Violence [250] of their Affirmations and Obſtinacy of their Belief. But could ſuch dogmatical Reaſoners become ſenſible of the ſtrange Infirmities of human Underſtanding, even in its moſt perfect State, and when moſt exact and cautious in its Determinations; ſuch a Reflection would naturally inſpire them with more Modeſty and Reſerve, and diminiſh their fond Opinion of them⯑ſelves, and their Prejudice againſt Antagoniſts. The Illiterate may reflect on the Diſpoſition of the Learned, who, amidſt all the Advantages of Study and Reflec⯑tion, are commonly ſtill modeſt and reſerv'd in their Determinations: And if any of the Learned are in⯑clin'd, from their natural Temper, to Haughtineſs and Obſtinacy, a ſmall Tincture of Pyrrhoniſm may abate their Pride, by ſhowing them, that the few Advantages, which they may have attain'd over their Fellows, are but inconſiderable, if compar'd with the univerſal Perplexity and Confuſion, which is inherent in human Nature. In general, there is a Degree of Doubt, and Caution, and Modeſty, which, in all kinds of Scrutiny and Deciſion, ought for ever to ac⯑company a juſt Reaſoner.
ANOTHER Species of mitigated Scepticiſm, which may be of Advantage to Mankind, and which may be the natural Reſult of the Pyrrhonian Doubts and Scruples, is the Limitation of our Enquiries to ſuch [251] Subjects as are beſt adapted to the narrow Capacity of human Underſtanding. The Imagination of Man is naturally ſublime, delighted with whatever is remote and extraordinary, and running, without Controul, into the moſt diſtant Parts of Space and Time, to avoid the Objects, which Cuſtom has render'd too familiar to it. A correct Judgment obſerves a contrary Me⯑thod; and avoiding all diſtant and high Enquiries, confines itſelf to common Life, and to ſuch Subjects as fall under daily Practice and Experience; leaving the more ſublime Topics to the Embelliſhment of Poets and Orators, or the Arts of Prieſts and Politi⯑cians. To bring us to ſo ſalutary a Determination, nothing can be more ſerviceable, than to be once thoroughly convinc'd of the Force of the Pyrrhonian Doubt, and of the Impoſſibility of any Thing, but the ſtrong Power of natural Inſtinct, to free us from it. Thoſe, who have a Propenſity to Philoſophy, will ſtill continue their Reſearches; becauſe they re⯑flect, that, beſide the immediate Pleaſure, attending ſuch an Occupation, philoſophical Deciſions are no⯑thing but the Reflections of common Life, metho⯑diz'd and corrected. But they will never be tempted to go beyond common Life, ſo long as they conſider the Imperfection of thoſe Faculties they employ, their narrow Reach, and their inaccurate Operations. While we cannot give a ſatisfactory Reaſon, why [252] we believe, after a thouſand Experiments, that a Stone will fall, or Fire burn; can we ever ſatisfy ourſelves concerning any Determinations we may form with regard to the Origin of Worlds, and the Situation of Nature, from, and to Eternity?
THIS narrow Limitation, indeed, of our Enquiries, is, in every Reſpect, ſo reaſonable, that it ſuffices to make the ſlighteſt Examination of the natural Powers of the human Mind, and compare them to their Ob⯑jects, in order to recommend it to us. We ſhall then find what are the proper Subjects of Science and En⯑quiry.
IT ſeems to me, that the only Object of the ab⯑ſtract Sciences or of Demonſtration is Quantity and Number, and that all Attempts to extend this more perfect Species of Knowledge beyond theſe Bounds are mere Sophiſtry and Illuſion. As the component Parts of Quantity and Number are entirely ſimilar, their Relations become intricate and involv'd; and nothing can be more curious, as well as uſeful, than to trace, by a Variety of Mediums, their Equality or Inequality, thro' their different Appearances. But as all other Ideas are clearly diſtinct and different from each other, we can never advance farther, by all our Scrutiny, than to obſerve this Diverſity, and, by an [253] obvious Reflection, pronounce one Thing not to be another. Or if there be any Difficulty in theſe De⯑ciſions, it proceeds entirely from the undetermin'd Meaning of Words, which is corrected by juſter De⯑finitions. That the Square of the Hypotenuſe is equal to the Squares of the other two Sides, cannot be known, let the Terms be ever ſo exactly defin'd, without a Train of Reaſoning and Enquiry. But to convince us of the Truth of this Propoſition, that where there is no Property, there can be no Injuſtice, 'tis only neceſ⯑ſary to define the Terms, and explain Injuſtice to be a Violation of Property. This Propoſition is, indeed, nothing but a more imperfect Definition. 'Tis the ſame Caſe with all thoſe pretended ſyllogiſtical Rea⯑ſonings, which may be found in every other Branch of Learning, except the Sciences of Quantity and Number; and theſe may ſafely, I think, be pro⯑nounc'd the only proper Objects of Knowledge and Demonſtration.
ALL other Enquiries of Men regard only Matter of Fact and Exiſtence; and theſe are evidently incapable of Demonſtration. Whatever is may not be. No Negation of a Fact can involve a Contradiction. The Non-exiſtence of any Being, without Exception, is as clear and diſtinct an Idea as its Exiſtence. The Propoſition, which affirms it not to be, is no leſs con⯑ceivable [254] and intelligible, than that which affirms it to be. The Caſe is different with the Sciences, pro⯑perly ſo call'd. Every falſe Propoſition is there con⯑fus'd and unintelligible. That the Cube Root of 64 is equal to the half of 10, is a falſe Propoſition, and can never be diſtinctly conceiv'd. But that Caeſar, or the Angel Gabriel, or any Being never exiſted, may be a falſe Propoſition, but ſtill is perfectly con⯑ceivable, and implies no Contradiction.
THE Exiſtence, therefore, of any Being can only be prov'd by Arguments from its Cauſe or its Effect; and theſe Arguments are founded entirely on Expe⯑rience. If we reaſon a priori, any Thing may ap⯑pear able to produce any Thing. The Falling of a Peeble may, for aught we know, extinguiſh the Sun; or the Wiſh of a Man controul the Planets in their Orbits. 'Tis only Experience, that teaches us the Nature and Bounds of Cauſe and Effect, and enables us to infer the Exiſtence of one Object from that of another*. Such is the Foundation of moral Reaſon⯑ing, which forms the greateſt Part of human Know⯑ledge, [255] and is the Source of all human Action and Behaviour.
MORAL Reaſonings are either concerning particu⯑lar or general Facts. All Deliberations in Life regard the former; as alſo all Diſquiſitions in Hiſtory, Chro⯑nology, Geography, and Aſtronomy.
THE Sciences, which treat of general Facts, are Politics, natural Philoſophy, Phyſic, Chymiſtry, &c. where the Qualities, Cauſes, and Effects of a whole Species of Objects are enquired into.
DIVINITY or Theology, as it proves the Exiſt⯑ence of a Deity, and the Immortality of Souls, is compos'd partly of Reaſonings concerning particular, and partly concerning general Facts. It has a Foun⯑dation in Reaſon, ſo far as it is ſupported by Expe⯑rience. But its beſt and moſt ſolid Foundation is Faith and divine Revelation.
MORALS and Criticiſm are not ſo properly Objects of the Underſtanding as of Taſte and Sentiment. Beauty, whether moral or natural, is felt, more pro⯑perly than perceiv'd. Or if we reaſon concerning it, and endeavour to fix its Standard, we regard a new Fact, viz. the general Taſte of Mankind, or ſome ſuch Fact, which may be the Object of Reaſoning and Enquiry.
[256] WHEN we run over Libraries, perſuaded of theſe Principles, what Havoc muſt we make? If we take in hand any Volume; of Divinity or School Meta⯑phyſics, for Inſtance; let us aſk, Does it contain any abſtract Reaſonings concerning Quantity or Number? No. Does it contain any experimental Reaſonings con⯑cerning Matters of Fact or Exiſtence? No. Commit it then to the Flames: For it can contain nothing but Sophiſtry and Illuſion.
That Faculty, by which we diſcern Truth and Falſhood, and that by which we perceive Vice and Virtue had long been confounded with each other, and all Morality was ſuppos'd to be built on eternal and immutable Relations, which to every in⯑telligent Mind were equally invariable as any Propoſition con⯑cerning Quantity or Number. But a † late Philoſopher has taught us, by the moſt convincing Arguments, that Morality is nothing in the abſtract Nature of Things, but is entirely relative to the Sentiment or mental Taſte of each particular Being; in the ſame Manner as the Diſtinctions of ſweet and bitter, hot and cold, ariſe from the particular Feeling of each Senſe or Organ. Moral Perceptions therefore, ought not to be claſs'd with the Opera⯑tions of the Underſtanding, but with the Taſtes or Sentiments.
It had been uſual with Philoſophers to divide all the Paſſions of the Mind into two Claſſes, the ſelfiſh and benevolent, which were ſuppos'd to ſtand in conſtant Oppoſition and Contrariety; nor was it thought that the latter could ever attain their proper Object but at the Expence of the former. Among the ſelfiſh Paſ⯑ſions were rank'd Avarice, Ambition, Revenge: Among the be⯑nevolent, natural Affection, Friendſhip, public Spirit. Philoſo⯑phers may now §See Butler's Sermons. perceive the Impropriety of this Diviſion. It has been prov'd, beyond all Controverſy, that even the Paſſions, commonly eſteem'd ſelfiſh, carry the Mind beyond Self, directly to the Object; that tho' the Satisfaction of theſe Paſſions gives us Enjoyment, yet the Proſpect of this Enjoyment is not the Cauſe of the Paſſion, but on the contrary the Paſſion is antece⯑dent to the Enjoyment, and without the former, the latter could never poſſibly exiſt; that the Caſe is preciſely the ſame with the Paſſions, denominated benevolent, and conſequently that a Man is no more intereſted when he ſeeks his own Glory than when the Happineſs of his Friend is the Object of his Wiſhes; nor is he any more diſintereſted when he ſacrifices his Eaſe and Quiet to public Good than when he labours for the Gratification of Ava⯑rice and Ambition. Here therefore is a conſiderable Adjuſtment in the Boundaries of the Paſſions, which had been confounded by the Negligence or Inaccuracy of former Philoſophers. Theſe two Inſtances may ſuffice to ſhow us the Nature and Importance of this Species of Philoſophy.
'Tis probable, that no more was meant by thoſe, who de⯑ny'd innate Ideas, than that all our Ideas were Copies of our Impreſſions; tho' it muſt be confeſs'd, that the Terms they employ'd were not choſen with ſuch Caution, nor ſo exactly de⯑fin'd as to prevent all Miſtakes about their Doctrine. For what is meant by innate? If innate be equivalent to natural, then all the Perceptions and Ideas of the Mind muſt be allow'd to be in⯑nate or natural, in whatever Senſe we take the latter Word, whe⯑ther in Oppoſition to what is uncommon, artificial, or miracu⯑lous. If by innate be meant, cotemporary to our Birth, the D [...] ⯑pute ſeems to be frivolous; nor is it worth while to enquire [...] what time Thinking begins, whether before, at, or after [...] Birth. Again, the Word, Idea, ſeems to be commonly taken in a very looſe Senſe, even by Mr. Locke himſelf, as ſtanding for any of our Perceptions, our Senſations and Paſſions, as well as Thoughts. Now in this Senſe I would deſire to know, what can be meant by aſſerting, that Self-Love, or Reſentment of Inju⯑ries, or the Paſſion betwixt the Sexes is not innate?
But admitting theſe Terms, Impreſſions and Ideas, in the Senſe above explain'd, and underſtanding by innate what is original or copy'd from no pre [...]ent Perception, then may we aſſert, that all our Impreſſions are innate, and our Ideas not innate.
To be ingenuous. I muſt own it to be my Opinion, that Mr. Locke was betray'd into this Queſtion by the Schoolmen, who making uſe of undefin'd Terms, draw out their Diſputes to a [...] length, without ever touching the Point in Queſtion. A like Ambiguity and Circumlocution ſeems to run thro' all that [...] on this Subject.
Nothing is more uſual than for Writers even on moral, political, or phyſical Subjects, to diſtinguiſh betwixt Reaſon and Experience, and to ſuppoſe, that theſe Species of Argumentation are entirely different from each other. The former are taken for the mere Reſult of our intellectual Faculties, which, by con⯑ſidering a priori the Nature of Things, and examining the Ef⯑fects, that muſt follow from their Operation, eſtabliſh particular Principles of Science and Philoſophy. The latter are ſuppos'd to be deriv'd entirely from Senſe and Obſervation, by which we learn what has actually reſulted from the Operation of particular Ob⯑jects, and are thence able to infer what will, for the future, re⯑ſult from them. Thus, for Inſtance, the Limitations and Re⯑ſtraints of civil Government and a legal Conſtitution may be de⯑fended, either from Reaſon, which, reflecting on the great Frailty and Corruption of human Nature, teaches, that no Man can ſafely be truſted with unlimited Authority; or from Experience and Hiſtory, which inform us of the enormous Abuſes, that Am⯑bition, in every Age and Country, has been found to make of ſo imprudent a Confidence.
The ſame Diſtinction betwixt Reaſon and Experience is main⯑tain'd in all our Deliberations concerning the Conduct of Life; while the experienc'd Stateſman, General, Phyſician, or Mer⯑chant is truſted and follow'd; and the unpractic'd Novice, with whatever natural Talents endow'd, neglected and deſpis'd. Tho' it be allow'd, that Reaſon may form very plauſible Conjectures with regard to the Conſequences of ſuch a particular Conduct in ſuch particular Circumſtances; 'tis ſtill ſuppos'd imperfect, with⯑out the Aſſiſtance of Experience, which is alone able to give Stability and Certainty to the Maxims, deriv'd from Study and Reflection.
But notwithſtanding that this Diſtinction be thus univerſally receiv'd, both in the active and ſpeculative Scenes of Life, I ſhall not ſcruple to pronounce, that, in my Opinion, it is, at the Bottom, erroneous, or at leaſt, ſuperficial.
If we examine thoſe Arguments, which, in any of the Sci⯑ences above mentioned, are ſuppos'd to be the mere Effects of Rea⯑ſoning and Reflection, they will all be found to terminate, at laſt, in ſome general Principle or Concluſion, for which we can aſſign no Reaſon but Obſervation and Experience. The only Dif⯑ference betwixt them and thoſe Maxims, which are vulgarly eſteem'd the Reſult of pure Experience, is, that the former can⯑not be eſtabliſh'd without ſome Proceſs of Thought, and ſome Reflection on what we have obſerv'd, in order to diſtinguiſh its Circumſtances, and trace its Conſequences: Whereas in the latter the experienc'd Event is exactly and fully ſimilar to that which we infer as the Reſult of any particular Situation. The Hiſtory of a Tiberius or a Nero makes us dread a like Tyranny were our Monarchs freed from the Reſtraints of Laws and Senates: But the Obſervation of any Fraud or Cruelty in private Life is ſufficient, with the Aid of a little Thought, to give us the ſame Appre⯑henſion; while it ſerves as an Inſtance of the general Corruption of human Nature, and ſhows us the Danger we muſt incur by repoſing an entire Confidence in Mankind. 'Tis Experience, in both Caſes, which is ultimately the Foundation of our Inference and Concluſion.
There is no Man ſo young and unexperienc'd, as not to have form'd, from Obſervation, many general and juſt Maxims con⯑cerning human Affairs and the Conduct of Life; but it muſt be confeſs'd, that, when he comes to put theſe in Practice, he will be extremely liable to Error, till Time and farther Experience, both enlarge theſe Maxims, and teach him their proper Uſe and Application. In every Situation or Incident, there are many particular and ſeemingly minute Circumſtances, which the Man of greateſt Talents is, at firſt, apt to overlook, tho' on them the Juſtneſs of his Concluſions, and conſequently, the Prudence of his Conduct, entirely depend. Not to mention, that, to a young Beginner, the general Obſervations and Maxims occur not always on the proper Occaſions, nor can be immediately apply'd with due Calmneſs and Diſtinction. The Truth is, an unexperienc'd Reaſoner could be no Reaſoner at all, were he abſolutely unex⯑perienc'd; and when we aſſign that Character to any one, we mean it only in a comparative Senſe, and ſuppoſe him poſſeſs'd of Experience in a ſmaller and more imperfect Degree.
I beg the Limitation here made may be remark'd, when I ſay, that a Miracle can never be prov'd, ſo as to be the Founda⯑tion of a Syſtem of Religion. For I own, that otherwiſe, there may poſſibly be Miracles, or Violations of the uſual Courſe of Na⯑ture, of ſuch a Kind as to admit of Proof from human Teſtimony; tho', perhaps, it will be impoſſible to find any ſuch in all the Records of Hiſtory. Thus ſuppoſe, all Authors, in all Lan⯑guages, agree, that from the firſt of January 1600, there was a total Darkneſs over the whole Earth for eight Days: Suppoſe that the Tradition of this extraordinary Event, is ſtill ſtrong and lively among the People: That all Travellers, who return from foreign Countries, bring us Accounts of the ſame Tradition, without the leaſt Variation or Contradiction; 'tis evident, that our preſent Philoſophers, inſtead of doubting of that Fact, ought to receive it for certain, and ought to ſearch for the Cauſes, whence it might be deriv'd.
But ſuppoſe, that all the Hiſtorians, who treat of England, ſhould agree, that on the firſt of January 1600, Queen Elizabeth died; that both before and after her Death ſhe was ſeen by her Phyſicians and the whole Court, as is uſual with Perſons of her Rank; that her Succeſſor was acknowledg'd and proclaim'd by the Parliament; and that, after having been interr'd a Month, ſhe again appear'd, took Poſſeſſion of the Throne, and govern'd England for three Years: I muſt confeſs I ſhould be ſurpriz'd at the Concurrence of ſo many odd Circumſtances, but ſhould not have the leaſt Inclination to believe ſo miraculous an Event. I ſhould not doubt of her pretended Death, and of thoſe other public Circumſtances, that follow'd it: I ſhould only aſſert it to have been pretended, and that it neither was, nor poſſibly could be real. You would in vain object to me the Difficulty, and almoſt Im⯑poſſibility of deceiving the World in an Affair of ſuch Conſe⯑quence; the Wiſdom and Integrity of that renown'd Queen; with the little or no Advantage ſhe could reap from ſo poor an Artifice: All this might aſtoniſh me; but I would ſtill reply, that the Knavery and Folly of Men are ſuch common Phaeno⯑mena, that I ſhould rather believe the moſt extraordinary Events to ariſe from their Concurrence than admit ſo ſingle a Violation of the Laws of Nature.
But ſhould this Miracle be aſcrib'd to any new Syſtem of Re⯑ligion; Men, in all Ages, have been ſo much impos'd on by ri⯑diculous Stories of that Kind; that this very Circumſtance would be a full Proof of a Cheat, and ſufficient, with all Men of Senſe, not only to make them reject the Fact, but even reject it without farther Examination. Tho' the Being, to whom the Miracle is aſcrib'd, be, in this Caſe, Almighty, it does not, upon that Ac⯑count, become a whit more probable; ſince 'tis impoſſible for us to know the Attributes or Actions of ſuch a Being, otherwiſe than from the Experience, which we have, of his Productions, in the uſual Courſe of Nature. This ſtill reduces us to paſt Ob⯑ſervation, and obliges us to compare the Inſtances of the Viola⯑tions of Truth in the Teſtimony of Men with thoſe of the Vio⯑lation of the Laws of Nature by Miracles, in order to judge which of them is moſt likely and probable. As the Violations of Truth are more common in the Teſtimony concerning religious Miracles than in that concerning any other Matter of Fact; this muſt di⯑miniſh very much the Authority of the former Teſtimony, and make us form a general Reſolution never to lend any Attention to it, with whatever ſpecious Pretext it may be cover'd.