end any belief or evidence. But as most of these proofs are perfectly
resembling, the mind runs easily along them, jumps from one part to
another with facility, and forms but a confused and general notion of
each link. By this means a long chain of argument, has as little effect
in diminishing the original vivacity, as a much shorter would have, if
composed of parts, which were different from each other, and of which
each required a distinct consideration.
A fourth unphilosophical species of probability is that derived from
general rules, which we rashly form to ourselves, and which are the
source of what we properly call PREJUDICE. An IRISHMAN
cannot have
wit, and a Frenchman cannot have solidity; for which reason, though the
conversation of the former in any instance be visibly very agreeable,
and of the latter very judicious, we have entertained such a prejudice
against them, that they must be dunces or fops in spite of sense and
reason. Human nature is very subject to errors of this kind; and perhaps
this nation as much as any other.
Should it be demanded why men form general rules, and allow them to
influence their judgment, even contrary to present observation and
experience, I should reply, that in my opinion it proceeds from those
very principles, on which all judgments concerning causes and effects
depend. Our judgments concerning cause and effect are derived from
habit and experience; and when we have been accustomed to see one object
united to another, our imagination passes from the first to the second,
by a natural transition, which precedes reflection, and which cannot be
prevented by it. Now it is the nature of custom not only to operate with
its full force, when objects are presented, that are exactly the same
with those to which we have been accustomed; but also to operate in an
inferior degree, when we discover such as are similar; and though the
habit loses somewhat of its force by every difference, yet it is seldom
entirely destroyed, where any considerable circumstances remain the
same. A man, who has contracted a custom of eating fruit by the use of
pears or peaches, will satisfy himself with melons, where he cannot find
his favourite fruit; as one, who has become a drunkard by the use of
red wines, will be carried almost with the same violence to white, if
presented to him. From this principle I have accounted for that species
of probability, derived from analogy, where we transfer our experience
in past instances to objects which are resembling, but are not exactly
the same with those concerning which we have had experience. In
proportion as the resemblance decays, the probability diminishes;
but still has some force as long as there remain any traces of the
resemblance.
This observation we may carry farther; and may remark, that though
custom be the foundation of all our judgments, yet sometimes it has an
effect on the imagination in opposition to the judgment, and produces
a contrariety in our sentiments concerning the same object. I explain
myself. In almost all kinds of causes there is a complication of
circumstances, of which some are essential, and others superfluous; some
are absolutely requisite to the production of the effect, and others
are only conjoined by accident. Now we may observe, that when these
superfluous circumstances are numerous, and remarkable, and frequently
conjoined with the essential, they have such an influence on the
imagination, that even in the absence of the latter they carry us on to
t-he conception of the usual effect, and give to that conception a force
and vivacity, which make it superior to the mere fictions of the fancy.
We may correct this propensity by a reflection on the nature of those
circumstances: but it is still certain, that custom takes the start, and
gives a biass to the imagination.
To illustrate this by a familiar instance, let us consider the case of
a man, who, being hung out from a high tower in a cage of iron cannot
forbear trembling, when he surveys the precipice below him, though he
knows himself to be perfectly secure from falling, by his experience of
the solidity of the iron, which supports him; and though the ideas of
fall and descent, and harm and death, be derived solely from custom and
experience. The same custom goes beyond the instances, from which it is
derived, and to which it perfectly corresponds; and influences his
ideas of such objects as are in some respect resembling, but fall not
precisely under the same rule. The circumstances of depth and descent
strike so strongly upon him, that their influence cannot be destroyed
by the contrary circumstances of support and solidity, which ought to
give him a perfect security. His imagination runs away with its object,
and excites a passion proportioned to it. That passion returns back
upon the imagination and inlivens the idea; which lively idea has a
new influence on the passion, and in its turn augments its force and
violence; and both his fancy and affections, thus mutually supporting
each other, cause the whole to have a very great influence upon him.
But why need we seek for other instances, while the present subject
of philosophical probabilities offers us so obvious an one, in the
opposition betwixt the judgment and imagination arising from these
effects of custom? According to my system, all reasonings are nothing
but the effects of custom; and custom has no influence, but by
inlivening the imagination, and giving us a strong conception of
any object. It may, therefore, be concluded, that our judgment and
imagination can never be contrary, and that custom cannot operate on
the latter faculty after such a manner, as to render it opposite to the
former. This difficulty we can remove after no other manner, than by
supposing the influence of general rules. We shall afterwards take
[Sect. 15.] notice of some general rules, by which we ought to regulate
our judgment concerning causes and effects; and these rules are formed
on the nature of our understanding, and on our experience of its
operations in the judgments we form concerning objects.
By them we learn
to distinguish the accidental circumstances from the efficacious causes;
and when we find that an effect can be produced without the concurrence
of any particular circumstance, we conclude that that circumstance makes
not a part of the efficacious cause, however frequently conjoined with
it. But as this frequent conjunction necessity makes it have some effect
on the imagination, in spite of the opposite conclusion from general
rules, the opposition of these two principles produces a contrariety
in our thoughts, and causes us to ascribe the one inference to our
judgment, and the other to our imagination. The general rule is
attributed to our judgment; as being more extensive and constant. The
exception to the imagination, as being more capricious and uncertain.
Thus our general rules are in a manner set in opposition to each other.
When an object appears, that resembles any cause in very considerable
circumstances, the imagination naturally carries us to a lively
conception of the usual effect, Though the object be different in the
most material and most efficacious circumstances from that cause. Here
is the first influence of general rules. But when we take a review of
this act of the mind, and compare it with the more general and authentic
operations of the understanding, we find it to be of an irregular
nature, and destructive of all the most established principles of
reasonings; which is the cause of our rejecting it. This is a second
influence of general rules, and implies the condemnation of the former.
Sometimes the one, sometimes the other prevails, according to the
disposition and character of the person. The vulgar are commonly guided
by the first, and wise men by the second. Mean while the sceptics may
here have the pleasure of observing a new and signal contradiction in
our reason, and of seeing all philosophy ready to be subverted by a
principle of human nature, and again saved by a new direction of
the very same principle. The following of general rules is a very
unphilosophical species of probability; and yet it is only by
following them that we can correct this, and all other unphilosophical
probabilities.
Since we have instances, where general rules operate on the imagination
even contrary to the judgment, we need not be surprized to see their
effects encrease, when conjoined with that latter faculty, and to
observe that they bestow on the ideas they present to us a force
superior to what attends any other. Every one knows, there is an
indirect manner of insinuating praise or blame, which is much less
shocking than the open flattery or censure of any person. However he may
communicate his sentiments by such secret insinuations, and make them
known with equal certainty as by the open discovery of them, it is
certain that their influence is not equally strong and powerful. One who
lashes me with concealed strokes of satire, moves not my indignation to
such a degree, as if he flatly told me I was a fool and coxcomb; though
I equally understand his meaning, as if he did. This difference is to be
attributed to the influence of general rules.
Whether a person openly, abuses me, or slyly intimates his contempt, in
neither case do I immediately perceive his sentiment or opinion; and it
is only by signs, that is, by its effects, I become sensible of it. The
only difference, then, betwixt these two cases consists in this, that
in the open discovery of his sentiments he makes use of signs, which are
general and universal; and in the secret intimation employs such as are
more singular and uncommon. The effect of this circumstance is, that the
imagination, in running from the present impression to the absent idea,
makes the transition with greater facility, and consequently conceives
the object with greater force, where the connexion is common and
universal, than where it is more rare and particular.
Accordingly we
may observe, that the open declaration of our sentiments is called the
taking off the mask, as the secret intimation of our opinions is said
to be the veiling of them. The difference betwixt an idea produced by
a general connexion, and that arising from a particular one is here
compared to the difference betwixt an impression and an idea. This
difference in the imagination has a suitable effect on the passions; and
this effect is augmented by another circumstance. A secret intimation
of anger or contempt shews that we still have some consideration for
the person, and avoid the directly abusing him. This makes a concealed
satire less disagreeable; but still this depends on the same principle.
For if an idea were not more feeble, when only intimated, it would never
be esteemed a mark of greater respect to proceed in this method than in
the other.
Sometimes scurrility is less displeasing than delicate satire, because
it revenges us in a manner for the injury at the very time it is
committed, by affording us a just reason to blame and contemn the
person, who injures us. But this phaenomenon likewise depends upon the
same principle. For why do we blame all gross and injurious language,
unless it be, because we esteem it contrary to good breeding and
humanity? And why is it contrary, unless it be more shocking than any
delicate satire? The rules of good breeding condemn whatever is openly
disobliging, and gives a sensible pain and confusion to those, with
whom we converse. After this is once established, abusive language is
universally blamed, and gives less pain upon account of its coarseness
and incivility, which render the person despicable, that employs it. It
becomes less disagreeable, merely because originally it is more so; and
it is more disagreeable, because it affords an inference by general and
common rules, that are palpable and undeniable.
To this explication of the different influence of open and concealed
flattery or satire, I shall add the consideration of another phenomenon,
which is analogous to it. There are many particulars in the point of
honour both of men and women, whose violations, when open and avowed,
the world never excuses, but which it is more apt to overlook, when the
appearances are saved, and the transgression is secret and concealed.
Even those, who know with equal certainty, that the fault is committed,
pardon it more easily, when the proofs seem in some measure oblique and
equivocal, than when they are direct and undeniable. The same idea is
presented in both cases, and, properly speaking, is equally assented
to by the judgment; and yet its influence is different, because of the
different manner, in which it is presented.
Now if we compare these two cases, of the open and concealed violations
of the laws of honour, we shall find, that the difference betwixt them
consists in this, that in the first ease the sign, from which we infer
the blameable action, is single, and suffices alone to be the foundation
of our reasoning and judgment; whereas in the latter the signs are
numerous, and decide little or nothing when alone and unaccompanyed with
many minute circumstances, which are almost imperceptible. But it is
certainly true, that any reasoning is always the more convincing, the
more single and united it is to the eye, and the less exercise it gives
to the imagination to collect all its parts, and run from them to the
correlative idea, which forms the conclusion. The labour of the thought
disturbs the regular progress of the sentiments, as we shall observe
presently.[Part IV. Sect. 1.] The idea strikes not on us with ouch
vivacity; and consequently has no such influence on the passion and
imagination.
From the same principles we may account for those observations of the
CARDINAL DE RETZ, that there are many things, in which the world wishes
to be deceived; and that it more easily excuses a person in acting than
in talking contrary to the decorum of his profession and character. A
fault in words is commonly more open and distinct than one in actions,
which admit of many palliating excuses, and decide not so clearly
concerning the intention and views of the actor.
Thus it appears upon the whole, that every kind of opinion or judgment,
which amounts not to knowledge, is derived entirely from the force and
vivacity of the perception, and that these qualities constitute in the
mind, what we call the BELIEF Of the existence of any object. This force
and this vivacity are most conspicuous in the memory; and therefore our
confidence in the veracity of that faculty is the greatest imaginable,
and equals in many respects the assurance of a demonstration. The next
degree of these qualities is that derived from the relation of cause and
effect; and this too is very great, especially when the conjunction is
found by experience to be perfectly constant, and when the object,
which is present to us, exactly resembles those, of which we have had
experience. But below this degree of evidence there are many others,
which have an influence on the passions and imagination, proportioned to
that degree of force and vivacity, which they communicate to the ideas.
It is by habit we make the transition from cause to effect; and it is
from some present impression we borrow that vivacity, which we diffuse
over the correlative idea. But when we have not observed a sufficient
number of instances, to produce a strong habit; or when these instances
are contrary to each other; or when the resemblance is not exact; or
the present impression is faint and obscure; or the experience in some
measure obliterated from the memory; or the connexion dependent on a
long chain of objects; or the inference derived from general rules, and
yet not conformable to them: In all these cases the evidence diminishes
by the diminution of the force and intenseness of the idea. This
therefore is the nature of the judgment and probability.
What principally gives authority to this system is, beside the undoubted
arguments, upon which each part is founded, the agreement of these
parts, and the necessity of one to explain another. The belief, which
attends our memory, is of the same nature with that, which is derived
from our judgments: Nor is there any difference betwixt that judgment,
which is derived from a constant and uniform connexion of causes and
effects, and that which depends upon an interrupted and uncertain. It is
indeed evident, that in all determinations, where the mind decides from
contrary experiments, it is first divided within itself, and has an
inclination to either side in proportion to the number of experiments
we have seen and remember. This contest is at last determined to the
advantage of that side, where we observe a superior number of these
experiments; but still with a diminution of force in the evidence
correspondent to the number of the opposite experiments.
Each
possibility, of which the probability is composed, operates separately
upon the imagination; and it is the larger collection of possibilities,
which at last prevails, and that with a force proportionable to its
superiority. All these phenomena lead directly to the precedent system;
nor will it ever be possible upon any other principles to give a
satisfactory and consistent explication of them. Without considering
these judgments as the effects of custom on the imagination, we shall
lose ourselves in perpetual contradiction and absurdity.
SECT. XIV. OF THE IDEA OF NECESSARY CONNEXION.
Having thus explained the manner, in which we reason beyond our
immediate impressions, and conclude that such particular causes must
have such particular effects; we must now return upon our footsteps to
examine that question, which [Sect. 2.] first occured to us, and which
we dropt in our way, viz. What is our idea of necessity, when we say
that two objects are necessarily connected together.
Upon this head I
repeat what I have often had occasion to observe, that as we have
no idea, that is not derived from an impression, we must find some
impression, that gives rise to this idea of necessity, if we assert we
have really such an idea. In order to this I consider, in what objects
necessity is commonly supposed to lie; and finding that it is always
ascribed to causes and effects, I turn my eye to two objects supposed to
be placed in that relation; and examine them in all the situations,
of which they are susceptible. I immediately perceive, that they are
contiguous in time and place, and that the object we call cause precedes
the other we call effect. In no one instance can I go any farther,
nor is it possible for me to discover any third relation betwixt these
objects. I therefore enlarge my view to comprehend several instances;
where I find like objects always existing in like relations of
contiguity and succession. At first sight this seems to serve but little
to my purpose. The reflection on several instances only repeats the
same objects; and therefore can never give rise to a new idea. But upon
farther enquiry I find, that the repetition is not in every particular
the same, but produces a new impression, and by that means the idea,
which I at present examine. For after a frequent repetition, I find,
that upon the appearance of one of the objects, the mind is determined
by custom to consider its usual attendant, and to consider it in a
stronger light upon account of its relation to the first object. It is
this impression, then, or determination, which affords me the idea of
necessity.
I doubt not but these consequences will at first sight be received
without difficulty, as being evident deductions from principles, which
we have already established, and which we have often employed in our
reasonings. This evidence both in the first principles, and in the
deductions, may seduce us unwarily into the conclusion, and make us
imagine it contains nothing extraordinary, nor worthy of our curiosity.
But though such an inadvertence may facilitate the reception of this
reasoning, it will make it be the more easily forgot; for which reason
I think it proper to give warning, that I have just now examined one of
the most sublime questions in philosophy, viz. that concerning the power
and efficacy of causes; where all the sciences seem so much interested.
Such a warning will naturally rouze up the attention of the reader, and
make him desire a more full account of my doctrine, as well as of the
arguments, on which it is founded. This request is so reasonable, that
I cannot refuse complying with it; especially as I am hopeful that these
principles, the more they are examined, will acquire the more force and
evidence.
There is no question, which on account of its importance, as well as
difficulty, has caused more disputes both among antient and modern
philosophers, than this concerning the efficacy of causes, or that
quality which makes them be followed by their effects.
But before they
entered upon these disputes, methinks it would not have been improper to
have examined what idea we have of that efficacy, which is the subject
of the controversy. This is what I find principally wanting in their
reasonings, and what I shall here endeavour to supply.
I begin with observing that the terms of EFFICACY, AGENCY, POWER, FORCE,
ENERGY, NECESSITY, CONNEXION, and PRODUCTIVE QUALITY, are all nearly
synonymous; and therefore it is an absurdity to employ any of them in
defining the rest. By this observation we reject at once all the vulgar
definitions, which philosophers have given of power and efficacy; and
instead of searching for the idea in these definitions, must look for
it in the impressions, from which it is originally derived. If it be a
compound idea, it must arise from compound impressions.
If simple, from
simple impressions.
I believe the most general and most popular explication of this
matter, is to say [See Mr. Locke, chapter of power.], that finding from
experience, that there are several new productions in matter, such
as the motions and variations of body, and concluding that there must
somewhere be a power capable of producing them, we arrive at last by
this reasoning at the idea of power and efficacy. But to be convinced
that this explication is more popular than philosophical, we need but
reflect on two very obvious principles. First, That reason alone can
never give rise to any original idea, and secondly, that reason, as
distinguished from experience, can never make us conclude, that a cause
or productive quality is absolutely requisite to every beginning of
existence. Both these considerations have been sufficiently explained:
and therefore shall not at present be any farther insisted on.
I shall only infer from them, that since reason can never give rise to
the idea of efficacy, that idea must be derived from experience, and
from some particular instances of this efficacy, which make their
passage into the mind by the common channels of sensation or reflection.
Ideas always represent their objects or impressions; and vice versa,
there are some objects necessary to give rise to every idea. If we
pretend, therefore, to have any just idea of this efficacy, we must
produce some instance, wherein the efficacy is plainly discoverable to
the mind, and its operatio