that faculty, which judges, and having adjusted these two together,
we are obliged by our reason to add a new doubt derived from the
possibility of error in the estimation we make of the truth and fidelity
of our faculties. This is a doubt, which immediately occurs to us, and
of which, if we would closely pursue our reason, we cannot avoid giving
a decision. But this decision, though it should be favourable to our
preceding judgment, being founded only on probability, must weaken still
further our first evidence, and must itself be weakened by a fourth
doubt of the same kind, and so on in infinitum: till at last there
remain nothing of the original probability, however great we may
suppose it to have been, and however small the diminution by every new
uncertainty. No finite object can subsist under a decrease repeated IN
INFINITUM; and even the vastest quantity, which can enter into human
imagination, must in this manner be reduced to nothing.
Let our first
belief be never so strong, it must infallibly perish by passing through
so many new examinations, of which each diminishes somewhat of its force
and vigour. When I reflect on the natural fallibility of my judgment,
I have less confidence in my opinions, than when I only consider the
objects concerning which I reason; and when I proceed still farther,
to turn the scrutiny against every successive estimation I make of my
faculties, all the rules of logic require a continual diminution, and at
last a total extinction of belief and evidence.
Should it here be asked me, whether I sincerely assent to this argument,
which I seem to take such pains to inculcate, and whether I be really
one of those sceptics, who hold that all is uncertain, and that our
judgment is not in any thing possest of any measures of truth and
falshood; I should reply, that this question is entirely superfluous,
and that neither I, nor any other person was ever sincerely and
constantly of that opinion. Nature, by an absolute and uncontroulable
necessity has determined us to judge as well as to breathe and feel; nor
can we any more forbear viewing certain objects in a stronger and
fuller light, upon account of their customary connexion with a present
impression, than we can hinder ourselves from thinking as long, as
we are awake, or seeing the surrounding bodies, when we turn our eyes
towards them in broad sunshine. Whoever has taken the pains to refute
the cavils of this total scepticism, has really disputed without an
antagonist, and endeavoured by arguments to establish a faculty, which
nature has antecedently implanted in the mind, and rendered unavoidable.
My intention then in displaying so carefully the arguments of that
fantastic sect, is only to make the reader sensible of the truth of my
hypothesis, that all our reasonings concerning causes and effects are
derived from nothing but custom; and that belief is more properly an act
of the sensitive, than of the cogitative part of our natures. I
have here proved, that the very same principles, which make us form
a decision upon any subject, and correct that decision by the
consideration of our genius and capacity, and of the situation of our
mind, when we examined that subject; I say, I have proved, that these
same principles, when carryed farther, and applied to every new reflex
judgment, must, by continually diminishing the original evidence, at
last reduce it to nothing, and utterly subvert all belief and opinion.
If belief, therefore, were a simple act of the thought, without any
peculiar manner of conception, or the addition of a force and vivacity,
it must infallibly destroy itself, and in every case terminate in a
total suspense of judgment. But as experience will sufficiently convince
any one, who thinks it worth while to try, that though he can find no
error in the foregoing arguments, yet he still continues to believe, and
think, and reason as usual, he may safely conclude, that his reasoning
and belief is some sensation or peculiar manner of conception, which it
is impossible for mere ideas and reflections to destroy.
But here, perhaps, it may be demanded, how it happens, even upon my
hypothesis, that these arguments above-explained produce not a total
suspense of judgment, and after what manner the mind ever retains a
degree of assurance in any subject? For as these new probabilities,
which by their repetition perpetually diminish the original evidence,
are founded on the very same principles, whether of thought or
sensation, as the primary judgment, it may seem unavoidable, that in
either case they must equally subvert it, and by the opposition,
either of contrary thoughts or sensations, reduce the mind to a total
uncertainty. I suppose, there is some question proposed to me, and
that after revolving over the impressions of my memory and senses,
and carrying my thoughts from them to such objects, as are commonly
conjoined with them, I feel a stronger and more forcible conception on
the one side, than on the other. This strong conception forms my first
decision. I suppose, that afterwards I examine my judgment itself,
and observing from experience, that it is sometimes just and sometimes
erroneous, I consider it as regulated by contrary principles or causes,
of which some lead to truth, and some to error; and in ballancing these
contrary causes, I diminish by a new probability the assurance of my
first decision. This new probability is liable to the same diminution as
the foregoing, and so on, IN INFINITUM. It is therefore demanded, how
it happens, that even after all we retain a degree of belief, which is
sufficient for our purpose, either in philosophy or common life.
I answer, that after the first and second decision; as the action of
the mind becomes forced and unnatural, and the ideas faint and obscure;
though the principles of judgment, and the ballancing of opposite
causes be the same as at the very beginning; yet their influence on the
imagination, and the vigour they add to, or diminish from the thought,
is by no means equal. Where the mind reaches not its objects with
easiness and facility, the same principles have not the same effect as
in a more natural conception of the ideas; nor does the imagination feel
a sensation, which holds any proportion with that which arises from
its common judgments and opinions. The attention is on the stretch: The
posture of the mind is uneasy; and the spirits being diverted from their
natural course, are not governed in their movements by the same laws, at
least not to the same degree, as when they flow in their usual channel.
If we desire similar instances, it will not be very difficult to find
them. The present subject of metaphysics will supply us abundantly. The
same argument, which would have been esteemed convincing in a reasoning
concerning history or politics, has little or no influence in these
abstruser subjects, even though it be perfectly comprehended; and that
because there is required a study and an effort of thought, in order
to its being comprehended: And this effort of thought disturbs the
operation of our sentiments, on which the belief depends. The case is
the same in other subjects. The straining of the imagination always
hinders the regular flowing of the passions and sentiments. A tragic
poet, that would represent his heroes as very ingenious and witty in
their misfortunes, would never touch the passions. As the emotions of
the soul prevent any subtile reasoning and reflection, so these latter
actions of the mind are equally prejudicial to the former. The mind, as
well as the body, seems to be endowed with a certain precise degree of
force and activity, which it never employs in one action, but at the
expense of all the rest. This is more evidently true, where the actions
are of quite different natures; since in that case the force of the mind
is not only diverted, but even the disposition changed, so as to render
us incapable of a sudden transition from one action to the other, and
still more of performing both at once. No wonder, then, the conviction,
which arises from a subtile reasoning, diminishes in proportion to the
efforts, which the imagination makes to enter into the reasoning, and
to conceive it in all its parts. Belief, being a lively conception, can
never be entire, where it is not founded on something natural and easy.
This I take to be the true state of the question, and cannot approve of
that expeditious way, which some take with the sceptics, to reject
at once all their arguments without enquiry or examination. If the
sceptical reasonings be strong, say they, it is a proof, that reason may
have some force and authority: if weak, they can never be sufficient to
invalidate all the conclusions of our understanding.
This argument is
not just; because the sceptical reasonings, were it possible for them
to exist, and were they not destroyed by their subtility, would
be successively both strong and weak, according to the successive
dispositions of the mind. Reason first appears in possession of the
throne, prescribing laws, and imposing maxims, with an absolute sway and
authority. Her enemy, therefore, is obliged to take shelter under
her protection, and by making use of rational arguments to prove the
fallaciousness and imbecility of reason, produces, in a manner, a
patent under her band and seal. This patent has at first an authority,
proportioned to the present and immediate authority of reason, from
which it is derived. But as it is supposed to be contradictory to
reason, it gradually diminishes the force of that governing power
and its own at the same time; till at last they both vanish away into
nothing, by a regulax and just diminution. The sceptical and dogmatical
reasons are of the same kind, though contrary in their operation and
tendency; so that where the latter is strong, it has an enemy of equal
force in the former to encounter; and as their forces were at first
equal, they still continue so, as long as either of them subsists; nor
does one of them lose any force in the contest, without taking as much
from its antagonist. It is happy, therefore, that nature breaks the
force of all sceptical arguments in time, and keeps them from having any
considerable influence on the understanding. Were we to trust entirely
to their self-destruction, that can never take place, until they have
first subverted all conviction, and have totally destroyed human reason.
SECT. II. OF SCEPTICISM WITH REGARD TO THE SENSES.
Thus the sceptic still continues to reason and believe, even though be
asserts, that he cannot defend his reason by reason; and by the same
rule he must assent to the principle concerning the existence of body,
though he cannot pretend by any arguments of philosophy to maintain its
veracity. Nature has not left this to his choice, and has doubtless,
esteemed it an affair of too great importance to be trusted to our
uncertain reasonings and speculations. We may well ask, What causes
induce us to believe in the existence of body? but it is in vain to ask,
Whether there be body or not? That is a point, which we must take for
granted in all our reasonings.
The subject, then, of our present enquiry is concerning the causes which
induce us to believe in the existence of body: And my reasonings on this
head I shall begin with a distinction, which at first sight may
seem superfluous, but which will contribute very much to the perfect
understanding of what follows. We ought to examine apart those two
questions, which are commonly confounded together, viz.
Why we attribute
a continued existence to objects, even when they are not present to the
senses; and why we suppose them to have an existence DISTINCT from the
mind and perception. Under this last head I comprehend their
situation as well as relations, their external position as well as
the independence of their existence and operation. These two questions
concerning the continued and distinct existence of body are intimately
connected together. For if the objects of our senses continue to
exist, even when they are not perceived, their existence is of course
independent of and distinct from the perception: and vice versa, if
their existence be independent of the perception and distinct from it,
they must continue to exist, even though they be not perceived. But
though the decision of the one question decides the other; yet that we
may the more easily discover the principles of human nature, from whence
the decision arises, we shall carry along with us this distinction, and
shall consider, whether it be the senses, reason, or the imagination,
that produces the opinion of a continued or of a distinct existence.
These are the only questions, that are intelligible on the present
subject. For as to the notion of external existence, when taken for
something specially different from our perceptions
[Part. II. Sect. 6.],
we have already shewn its absurdity.
To begin with the SENSES, it is evident these faculties are incapable of
giving rise to the notion of the continued existence of their objects,
after they no longer appear to the senses. For that is a contradiction
in terms, and suppose that the senses continue to operate, even after
they have ceased all manner of operation. These faculties, therefore, if
they have any influence in the present case, must produce the opinion
of a distinct, not of a continued existence; and in order to that, must
present their impressions either as images and representations, or as
these very distinct and external existences.
That our senses offer not their impressions as the images of something
distinct, or independent, and external, is evident; because they convey
to us nothing but a single perception, and never give us the least
intimation of any thing beyond. A single perception can never produce
the idea of a double existence, but by some inference either of the
reason or imagination. When the mind looks farther than what immediately
appears to it, its conclusions can never be put to the account of the
senses; and it certainly looks farther, when from a single perception it
infers a double existence, and supposes the relations of resemblance and
causation betwixt them.
If our senses, therefore, suggest any idea of distinct existences,
they must convey the impressions as those very existences, by a kind of
fallacy and illusion. Upon this bead we may observe, that all sensations
are felt by the mind, such as they really are, and that when we
doubt, whether they present themselves as distinct objects, or as
mere impressions, the difficulty is not concerning their nature, but
concerning their relations and situation. Now if the senses presented
our impressions as external to, and independent of ourselves, both the
objects and ourselves must be obvious to our senses, otherwise they
coued not be compared by these faculties. The difficulty, then, is how
fax we are ourselves the objects of our senses.
It is certain there is no question in philosophy more abstruse than
that concerning identity, and the nature of the uniting principle, which
constitutes a person. So far from being able by our senses merely to
determine this question, we must have recourse to the most profound
metaphysics to give a satisfactory answer to it; and in common life
it is evident these ideas of self and person are never very fixed nor
determinate. It is absurd, therefore, to imagine the senses can ever
distinguish betwixt ourselves and external objects.
Add to this, that every impression, external and internal, passions,
affections, sensations, pains and pleasures, are originally on the same
footing; and that whatever other differences we may observe among them,
they appear, all of them, in their true colours, as impressions or
perceptions. And indeed, if we consider the matter aright, it is scarce
possible it should be otherwise, nor is it conceivable that our senses
should be more capable of deceiving us in the situation and relations,
than in the nature of our impressions. For since all actions and
sensations of the mind are known to us by consciousness, they must
necessarily appear in every particular what they are, and be what they
appear. Every thing that enters the mind, being in reality a perception,
it is impossible any thing should to feeling appear different. This were
to suppose, that even where we are most intimately conscious, we might
be mistaken.
But not to lose time in examining, whether it is possible for our senses
to deceive us, and represent our perceptions as distinct from ourselves,
that is as external to and independent of us; let us consider whether
they really do so, and whether this error proceeds from an immediate
sensation, or from some other causes.
To begin with the question concerning EXTERNAL
existence, it may perhaps
be said, that setting aside the metaphysical question of the identity
of a thinking substance, our own body evidently belongs to us; and as
several impressions appear exterior to the body, we suppose them also
exterior to ourselves. The paper, on which I write at present, is beyond
my hand. The table is beyond the paper. The walls of the chamber beyond
the table. And in casting my eye towards the window, I perceive a great
extent of fields and buildings beyond my chamber. From all this it may
be infered, that no other faculty is required, beside the senses, to
convince us of the external existence of body. But to prevent this
inference, we need only weigh the three following considerations. First,
That, properly speaking, it is not our body we perceive, when we regard
our limbs and members, but certain impressions, which enter by the
senses; so that the ascribing a real and corporeal existence to these
impressions, or to their objects, is an act of the mind as difficult
to explain, as that which we examine at present.
Secondly, Sounds, and
tastes, and smelts, though commonly regarded by the mind as continued
independent qualities, appear not to have any existence in extension,
and consequently cannot appear to the senses as situated externally
to the body. The reason, why we ascribe a place to them, shall be:
considered afterwards. Thirdly, Even our sight informs us not of
distance or outness (so to speak) immediately and without a certain
reasoning and experience, as is acknowledged by the most rational
philosophers.
As to the independency of our perceptions on ourselves, this can never
be an object of the senses; but any opinion we form concerning it, must
be derived from experience and observation: And we shall see afterwards,
that our conclusions from experience are far from being favourable to
the doctrine of the independency of our perceptions.
Mean while we may
observe that when we talk of real distinct existences, we have commonly
more in our eye their independency than external situation in place,
and think an object has a sufficient reality, when its Being is
uninterrupted, and independent of the incessant revolutions, which we
are conscious of in ourselves.
Thus to resume what I have said concerning the senses; they give us no
notion of continued existence, because they cannot operate beyond the
extent, in which they really operate. They as little produce the opinion
of a distinct existence, because they neither can offer it to the mind
as represented, nor as original. To offer it as represented, they must
present both an object and an image. To make it appear as original, they
must convey a falshood; and this falshood must lie in the relations and
situation: In order to which they must be able to compare the object
with ourselves; and even in that case they do not, nor is it possible
they should, deceive us. We may, therefore, conclude with certainty,
that the opinion of a continued and of a distinct existence never arises
from the senses.
To confirm this we may observe, that there are three different kinds of
impressions conveyed by the senses. The first are those of the figure,
bulk, motion and solidity of bodies. The second those of colours,
tastes, smells, sounds, heat and cold. The third are the pains and
pleasures, that arise from the application of objects to our bodies, as
by the cutting of our flesh with steel, and such like.
Both philosophers
and the vulgar suppose the first of these to have a distinct continued
existence. The vulgar only regard the second as on the same footing.
Both philosophers and the vulgar, again, esteem the third to be merely
perceptions and consequently interrupted and dependent beings.
Now it is evident, that, whatever may be our philosophical opinion,
colours, Sounds, heat and cold, as far as appears to the senses, exist
after the same manner with motion and solidity, and that the difference
we make betwixt them in this respect, arises not from the mere
perception. So strong the prejudice for the distinct continued existence
Of the former qualities, that when the contrary opinion is advanced by
modern philosophers, people imagine they can almost refute it from
their feeling and experience, and that their very senses contradict this
philosophy. It is also evident, that colours, sounds,
&c. are originally
on the same footing with the pain that arises from steel, and pleasure
that proceeds from a fire; and that the difference betwixt them is
founded neither on perception nor reason, but on the imagination. For
as they are confest to be, both of them, nothing but perceptions arising
from the particular configurations and motions of the parts of body,
wherein possibly can their difference consist? Upon the whole, then, we
may conclude, that as far as the senses are judges, all perceptions are
the same in the manner of their existence.
We may also observe in this instance of sounds and colours, that we
can attribute a distinct continued existence to objects without ever
consulting REASON, or weighing our opinions by any philosophical
principles. And indeed, whatever convincing arguments philosophers may
fancy they can produce to establish the belief of objects independent of
the mind, it is obvious these arguments are known but to very few, and
that it is not by them, that children, peasants, and the greatest part
of mankind are induced to attribute objects to some impressions, and
deny them to others. Accordingly we find, that all the conclusions,
which the vulgar form on this head, are directly contrary to those,
which are confirmed by philosophy. For philosophy informs us, that every
thing, which appears to the mind, is nothing but a perception, and is
interrupted, and dependent on the mind: whereas the vulgar confound
perceptions and objects, and attribute a distinct continued existence
to the very things they feel or see. This sentiment, then, as it is
entirely unreasonable, must proceed from some other faculty than
the understanding. To which we may add, that as long as we take our
perceptions and objects to be the same, we can never infer the existence
of the one from that of the other, nor form any argument from the
relation of cause and effect; which is the only one that earl assure us
of matter of fact. Even after we distinguish our perceptions from
our objects, it will appear presently, that we are still incapable of
reasoning from the existence of one to that o