SECT. I JUSTICE, WHETHER A NATURAL OR ARTIFICIAL
VIRTUE?
SECT. II OF THE ORIGIN OF JUSTICE AND PROPERTY
SECT. III OF THE RULES WHICH DETERMINE PROPERTY
SECT. IV OF THE TRANSFERENCE OF PROPERTY BY CONSENT
SECT. V OF THE OBLIGATION OF PROMISES
SECT. VI SOME FARTHER REFLECTIONS CONCERNING
JUSTICE AND INJUSTICE
SECT. VII OF THE ORIGIN OF GOVERNMENT
SECT. VIII OF THE SOURCE OF ALLEGIANCE
SECT. IX OF THE MEASURES OF ALLEGIANCE
SECT. X OF THE OBJECTS OF ALLEGIANCE
SECT. XI OF THE LAWS OF NATIONS
SECT. XII OF CHASTITY AND MODESTY
PART III OF THE OTHER VIRTUES AND VICES
SECT. I OF THE ORIGIN OF THE NATURAL VIRTUES AND
VICES
SECT. II OF GREATNESS OF MIND
SECT. III OF GOODNESS AND BENEVOLENCE
SECT. IV OF NATURAL ABILITIES
SECT. V SOME FARTHER REFLECTIONS CONCERNING THE
NATURAL VIRTUES
SECT. VI CONCLUSION OF THIS BOOK
APPENDIX TO THE TREATISE OF HUMAN NATURE
* * * * *
VOL. I OF THE UNDERSTANDING.
ADVERTISEMENT.
My design in the present work is sufficiently explained in the
Introduction. The reader must only observe, that all the subjects I have
there planned out to myself, are not treated of in these two volumes.
The subjects of the Understanding and Passions make a compleat chain
of reasoning by themselves; and I was willing to take advantage of this
natural division, in order to try the taste of the public. If I have the
good fortune to meet with success, I shall proceed to the examination
of Morals, Politics, and Criticism; which will compleat this Treatise of
Human Nature. The approbation of the public I consider as the greatest
reward of my labours; but am determined to regard its judgment, whatever
it be, as my best instruction.
INTRODUCTION.
Nothing is more usual and more natural for those, who pretend to
discover anything new to the world in philosophy and the sciences, than
to insinuate the praises of their own systems, by decrying all those,
which have been advanced before them. And indeed were they content with
lamenting that ignorance, which we still lie under in the most important
questions, that can come before the tribunal of human reason, there are
few, who have an acquaintance with the sciences, that would not readily
agree with them. It is easy for one of judgment and learning, to
perceive the weak foundation even of those systems, which have obtained
the greatest credit, and have carried their pretensions highest
to accurate and profound reasoning. Principles taken upon trust,
consequences lamely deduced from them, want of coherence in the parts,
and of evidence in the whole, these are every where to be met with in
the systems of the most eminent philosophers, and seem to have drawn
disgrace upon philosophy itself.
Nor is there required such profound knowledge to discover the present
imperfect condition of the sciences, but even the rabble without doors
may, judge from the noise and clamour, which they hear, that all goes
not well within. There is nothing which is not the subject of debate,
and in which men of learning are not of contrary opinions. The most
trivial question escapes not our controversy, and in the most momentous
we are not able to give any certain decision. Disputes are multiplied,
as if every thing was uncertain; and these disputes are managed with the
greatest warmth, as if every thing was certain. Amidst all this bustle
it is not reason, which carries the prize, but eloquence; and no
man needs ever despair of gaining proselytes to the most extravagant
hypothesis, who has art enough to represent it in any favourable
colours. The victory is not gained by the men at arms, who manage the
pike and the sword; but by the trumpeters, drummers, and musicians of
the army.
From hence in my opinion arises that common prejudice against
metaphysical reasonings of all kinds, even amongst those, who profess
themselves scholars, and have a just value for every other part of
literature. By metaphysical reasonings, they do not understand those on
any particular branch of science, but every kind of argument, which is
any way abstruse, and requires some attention to be comprehended. We
have so often lost our labour in such researches, that we commonly
reject them without hesitation, and resolve, if we must for ever be a
prey to errors and delusions, that they shall at least be natural and
entertaining. And indeed nothing but the most determined scepticism,
along with a great degree of indolence, can justify this aversion to
metaphysics. For if truth be at all within the reach of human capacity,
it is certain it must lie very deep and abstruse: and to hope we shall
arrive at it without pains, while the greatest geniuses have failed
with the utmost pains, must certainly be esteemed sufficiently vain
and presumptuous. I pretend to no such advantage in the philosophy I am
going to unfold, and would esteem it a strong presumption against it,
were it so very easy and obvious.
It is evident, that all the sciences have a relation, greater or less,
to human nature: and that however wide any of them may seem to run from
it, they still return back by one passage or another.
Even. Mathematics,
Natural Philosophy, and Natural Religion, are in some measure dependent
on the science of MAN; since the lie under the cognizance of men, and
are judged of by their powers and faculties. It is impossible to tell
what changes and improvements we might make in these sciences were we
thoroughly acquainted with the extent and force of human understanding,
and could explain the nature of the ideas we employ, and of the
operations we perform in our reasonings. And these improvements are
the more to be hoped for in natural religion, as it is not content with
instructing us in the nature of superior powers, but carries its views
farther, to their disposition towards us, and our duties towards them;
and consequently we ourselves are not only the beings, that reason, but
also one of the objects, concerning which we reason.
If therefore the sciences of Mathematics, Natural Philosophy, and
Natural Religion, have such a dependence on the knowledge of man, what
may be expected in the other sciences, whose connexion with human nature
is more close and intimate? The sole end of logic is to explain the
principles and operations of our reasoning faculty, and the nature of
our ideas: morals and criticism regard our tastes and sentiments: and
politics consider men as united in society, and dependent on each other.
In these four sciences of Logic, Morals, Criticism, and Politics, is
comprehended almost everything, which it can any way import us to be
acquainted with, or which can tend either to the improvement or ornament
of the human mind.
Here then is the only expedient, from which we can hope for success in
our philosophical researches, to leave the tedious lingering method,
which we have hitherto followed, and instead of taking now and then a
castle or village on the frontier, to march up directly to the capital
or center of these sciences, to human nature itself; which being once
masters of, we may every where else hope for an easy victory. From this
station we may extend our conquests over all those sciences, which more
intimately concern human life, and may afterwards proceed at leisure
to discover more fully those, which are the objects of pore curiosity.
There is no question of importance, whose decision is not comprised in
the science of man; and there is none, which can be decided with any
certainty, before we become acquainted with that science. In pretending,
therefore, to explain the principles of human nature, we in effect
propose a compleat system of the sciences, built on a foundation almost
entirely new, and the only one upon which they can stand with any
security.
And as the science of man is the-only solid foundation for the other
sciences, so the only solid foundation we can give to this science
itself must be laid on experience and observation. It is no astonishing
reflection to consider, that the application of experimental philosophy
to moral subjects should come after that to natural at the distance of
above a whole century; since we find in fact, that there was about the
same interval betwixt the origins of these sciences; and that reckoning
from THALES to SOCRATES, the space of time is nearly equal to that
betwixt, my Lord Bacon and some late philosophers [Mr.
Locke, my Lord
Shaftesbury, Dr. Mandeville, Mr. Hutchinson, Dr. Butler, etc.] in
England, who have begun to put the science of man on a new footing, and
have engaged the attention, and excited the curiosity of the public. So
true it is, that however other nations may rival us in poetry, and
excel us in some other agreeable arts, the improvements in reason and
philosophy can only be owing to a land of toleration and of liberty.
Nor ought we to think, that this latter improvement in the science of
man will do less honour to our native country than the former in natural
philosophy, but ought rather to esteem it a greater glory, upon account
of the greater importance of that science, as well as the necessity it
lay under of such a reformation. For to me it seems evident, that the
essence of the mind being equally unknown to us with that of external
bodies, it must be equally impossible to form any notion of its powers
and qualities otherwise than from careful and exact experiments, and the
observation of those particular effects, which result from its different
circumstances and situations. And though we must endeavour to render all
our principles as universal as possible, by tracing up our experiments
to the utmost, and explaining all effects from the simplest and fewest
causes, it is still certain we cannot go beyond experience; and any
hypothesis, that pretends to discover the ultimate original qualities
of human nature, ought at first to be rejected as presumptuous and
chimerical.
I do not think a philosopher, who would apply himself so earnestly to
the explaining the ultimate principles of the soul, would show himself a
great master in that very science of human nature, which he pretends to
explain, or very knowing in what is naturally satisfactory to the mind
of man. For nothing is more certain, than that despair has almost the
same effect upon us with enjoyment, and that we are no sooner acquainted
with the impossibility of satisfying any desire, than the desire itself
vanishes. When we see, that we have arrived at the utmost extent of
human reason, we sit down contented, though we be perfectly satisfied in
the main of our ignorance, and perceive that we can give no reason for
our most general and most refined principles, beside our experience
of their reality; which is the reason of the mere vulgar, and what it
required no study at first to have discovered for the most particular
and most extraordinary phaenomenon. And as this impossibility of making
any farther progress is enough to satisfy the reader, so the writer
may derive a more delicate satisfaction from the free confession of his
ignorance, and from his prudence in avoiding that error, into which so
many have fallen, of imposing their conjectures and hypotheses on the
world for the most certain principles. When this mutual contentment and
satisfaction can be obtained betwixt the master and scholar, I know not
what more we can require of our philosophy.
But if this impossibility of explaining ultimate principles should be
esteemed a defect in the science of man, I will venture to affirm, that
it is a defect common to it with all the sciences, and all the arts, in
which we can employ ourselves, whether they be such as are cultivated
in the schools of the philosophers, or practised in the shops of the
meanest artizans. None of them can go beyond experience, or establish
any principles which are not founded on that authority.
Moral philosophy
has, indeed, this peculiar disadvantage, which is not found in natural,
that in collecting its experiments, it cannot make them purposely, with
premeditation, and after such a manner as to satisfy itself concerning
every particular difficulty which may be. When I am at a loss to know
the effects of one body upon another in any situation, I need only put
them in that situation, and observe what results from it. But should
I endeavour to clear up after the same manner any doubt in moral
philosophy, by placing myself in the same case with that which I
consider, it is evident this reflection and premeditation would so
disturb the operation of my natural principles, as must render it
impossible to form any just conclusion from the phenomenon. We must
therefore glean up our experiments in this science from a cautious
observation of human life, and take them as they appear in the common
course of the world, by men's behaviour in company, in affairs, and
in their pleasures. Where experiments of this kind are judiciously
collected and compared, we may hope to establish on them a science which
will not be inferior in certainty, and will be much superior in utility
to any other of human comprehension.
BOOK I. OF THE UNDERSTANDING
PART I. OF IDEAS, THEIR ORIGIN, COMPOSITION, CONNEXION, ABSTRACTION,
ETC.
SECT. I. OF THE ORIGIN OF OUR IDEAS.
All the perceptions of the human mind resolve themselves into two
distinct kinds, which I shall call IMPRESSIONS and IDEAS. The difference
betwixt these consists in the degrees of force and liveliness, with
which they strike upon the mind, and make their way into our thought
or consciousness. Those perceptions, which enter with most force and
violence, we may name impressions: and under this name I comprehend
all our sensations, passions and emotions, as they make their first
appearance in the soul. By ideas I mean the faint images of these in
thinking and reasoning; such as, for instance, are all the perceptions
excited by the present discourse, excepting only those which arise from
the sight and touch, and excepting the immediate pleasure or uneasiness
it may occasion. I believe it will not be very necessary to employ many
words in explaining this distinction. Every one of himself will readily
perceive the difference betwixt feeling and thinking.
The common degrees
of these are easily distinguished; though it is not impossible but in
particular instances they may very nearly approach to each other. Thus
in sleep, in a fever, in madness, or in any very violent emotions of
soul, our ideas may approach to our impressions, As on the other hand
it sometimes happens, that our impressions are so faint and low, that
we cannot distinguish them from our ideas. But notwithstanding this near
resemblance in a few instances, they are in general so very different,
that no-one can make a scruple to rank them under distinct heads, and
assign to each a peculiar name to mark the difference
[Footnote 1.].
[Footnote 1. I here make use of these terms, impression and
idea, in a sense different from what is usual, and I hope
this liberty will be allowed me. Perhaps I rather restore
the word, idea, to its original sense, from which Mr LOCKE
had perverted it, in making it stand for all our perceptions. By the terms of impression I would not be
understood to express the manner, in which our lively
perceptions are produced in the soul, but merely the
perceptions themselves; for which there is no particular
name either in the English or any other language, that I
know of.]
There is another division of our perceptions, which it will be
convenient to observe, and which extends itself both to our impressions
and ideas. This division is into SIMPLE and COMPLEX.
Simple perceptions
or impressions and ideas are such as admit of no distinction nor
separation. The complex are the contrary to these, and may be
distinguished into parts. Though a particular colour, taste, and smell,
are qualities all united together in this apple, it is easy to perceive
they are not the same, but are at least distinguishable from each other.
Having by these divisions given an order and arrangement to our objects,
we may now apply ourselves to consider with the more accuracy their
qualities and relations. The first circumstance, that strikes my eye, is
the great resemblance betwixt our impressions and ideas in every other
particular, except their degree of force and vivacity.
The one seem to
be in a manner the reflexion of the other; so that all the perceptions
of the mind are double, and appear both as impressions and ideas. When
I shut my eyes and think of my chamber, the ideas I form are exact
representations of the impressions I felt; nor is there any circumstance
of the one, which is not to be found in the other. In running over my
other perceptions, I find still the same resemblance and representation.
Ideas and impressions appear always to correspond to each other. This
circumstance seems to me remarkable, and engages my attention for a
moment.
Upon a more accurate survey I find I have been carried away too far by
the first appearance, and that I must make use of the distinction of
perceptions into simple and complex, to limit this general decision,
that all our ideas and impressions are resembling. I observe, that many
of our complex ideas never had impressions, that corresponded to them,
and that many of our complex impressions never are exactly copied in
ideas. I can imagine to myself such a city as the New Jerusalem, whose
pavement is gold and walls are rubies, though I never saw any such.
I have seen Paris; but shall I affirm I can form such an idea of that
city, as will perfectly represent all its streets and houses in their
real and just proportions?
I perceive, therefore, that though there is in general a great,
resemblance betwixt our complex impressions and ideas, yet the rule is
not universally true, that they are exact copies of each other. We may
next consider how the case stands with our simple, perceptions. After
the most accurate examination, of which I am capable, I venture to
affirm, that the rule here holds without any exception, and that every
simple idea has a simple impression, which resembles it, and every
simple impression a correspondent idea. That idea of red, which we form
in the dark, and that impression which strikes our eyes in sun-shine,
differ only in degree, not in nature. That the case is the same with
all our simple impressions and ideas, it is impossible to prove by a
particular enumeration of them. Every one may satisfy himself in this
point by running over as many as he pleases. But if any one should deny
this universal resemblance, I know no way of convincing him, but by
desiring him to shew a simple impression, that has not a correspondent
idea, or a simple idea, that has not a correspondent impression. If he
does not answer this challenge, as it is certain he cannot, we may from
his silence and our own observation establish our conclusion.
Thus we find, that all simple ideas and impressions resemble each other;
and as the complex are formed from them, we may affirm in general,
that these two species of perception are exactly correspondent. Having
discovered this relation, which requires no farther examination, I am
curious to find some other of their qualities. Let us consider how they
stand with regard to their existence, and which of the impressions and
ideas are causes, and which effects.
The full examination of this question is the subject of the present
treatise; and therefore we shall here content ourselves with
establishing one general proposition, THAT ALL OUR
SIMPLE IDEAS IN
THEIR FIRST APPEARANCE ARE DERIVED FROM SIMPLE
IMPRESSIONS, WHICH ARE
CORRESPONDENT TO THEM, AND WHICH THEY EXACTLY REPRESENT.
In seeking for phenomena to prove this proposition, I find only those
of two kinds; but in each kind the phenomena are obvious, numerous, and
conclusive. I first make myself certain, by a new, review, of what I
have already asserted, that every simple impression is attended with
a correspondent idea, and every simple idea with a correspondent
impression. From this constant conjunction of resembling perceptions
I immediately conclude, that there is a great connexion betwixt our
correspondent impressions and ideas, and that the existence of the one
has a considerable influence upon that of the other.
Such a constant
conjunction, in such an infinite number of instances, can never arise
from chance; but clearly proves a dependence of the impressions on the
ideas, or of the ideas on the impressions. That I may know on which side
this dependence lies, I consider the order of their first appearance;
and find by constant experience, that the simple impressions always take
the precedence of their correspondent ideas, but never appear in the
contrary order. To give a child an idea of scarlet or orange, of sweet
or bitter, I present the objects, or in other words, convey to him these
impressions; but proceed not so absurdly, as to endeavour to produce
the impressions by exciting the ideas. Our ideas upon their appearance
produce not their correspondent impressions, nor do we perceive any
colour, or feel any sensation merely upon thinking of them. On the
other hand we find, that any impression either of the mind or body
is constantly followed by an idea, which resembles it, and is only
different in the degrees of force and liveliness, The constant
conjunction of our resembling perceptions, is a convincing proof,
that the one are the causes of the other; and this priority of the
impressions is an equal proof, that our impressions are the causes of
our ideas, not our ideas of our impressions.
To confirm this I consider Another plain and convincing phaenomenon;
which is, that, where-ever by any accident the faculties, which give
rise to any impressions, are obstructed in their operations, as when one
is born blind or deaf; not only the impressions are lost, but also their
correspondent ideas; so that there never appear in the mind the least
traces of either of them. Nor is this only true, where the organs of
sensation are entirely destroyed, but likewise where they have never
been put in action to produce a particular impression.
We cannot form
to ourselves a just idea of the taste