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THE LIBRARY
OF
THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA
LOS ANGELES
ESSAYS
ON THE
ACTIVE POWERS
OF MA N-
> *
ESSAYS
ON THE
ACTIVE POWERS
OF MAN.
By THOMAS ^E I D, D. D. F. R. S. Edin.
PROFESSOR OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF GLASGOW.
He bath Jhcwed thee, 0 Man, what is good. MiCAH.
EDINBURGH: Printed FOR JOHN BELL, Parliament-Squar£, And G. G. J. & J. ROBINSON, London.
M,DCC,LXXX\III. \ 1 t<
CONTENTS
Page INTRODUCTION, - - - - i
ESSAY I. OF ACTIVE POWER IN GENERAL.
Chap. i. Of the Notion of yl^ive Power ^ - - 5
2. 7" he fame SubjeEl^ - - - 13
■ 3. Of Mr Locke's Account of our Idea of Power y 22
4. OfMx Hume's Opinion of the Idea of Power, - 26
5. Whether Beings that have no Will nor Under/landing
may have ABive Power ? - - ~ 33
6. Of the efficient Caufes of the Phanomena of Nature y 41
7. Of the Extent of Human Power, - - 48
ESSAY n. OF THE WILL.
Chap. i. Obfervations concerning the Will, " - - 59
2. 0/ the Influence of Incitements and Motives upon the —
Will, - - - 67
3. Of Operations of Mind which may be called Voluntary, 78
-' 4. Corollaries, ^ - - - - 92
ESSAY III. OF THE PRINCIPLES OF ACTION. PARTI. Of the Mechanical Principles of Jaion. '^
Chap. t. Of the Principles of jl£lion in general, - 97
■ 2. Injlin5l, - - - - 103
3. Of Habit, - - - 117
a 2 ESSAY
%
vi CONTENTS.
ESSAY III. PART II. Of Animal Principles of AB'ion.
Page
Chap. i. Of Appetites, - - - 121
2. OfDeftres,.y - . - 131
3. Of Benevolent Affedion in general, - - I41
4. Of the particular Benevolent Affe^ions, - 148
5. Of Malevolent AffeElion, - - 166
6. OfPaJion, - - - 180
7. Of Difpofttion, ' - - 102
8. Of Opinion, - - - - 198
ESSAY III. PART III. Of the Rational Principles of ASiion.
Chap. i. 'There are Rational Principles of A6lion in Man, -' 205.
2. Of Regard to our Good on the Whole, - - 208
3. The Tendency of this Principle, - 215
4. Defers of this Principle, - - - 221
■ 5* Of the Notion of Duty, Redlitude. moral Obligation, 227
6. Of the Senfe of Duty, - - - 236
7. Of moral Approbation and Difapprobation^ - 244
■ 8. Obfervations concerning Confcience, - - 252
ESSAY IV. OF THE LIBERTY OF MORAL AGENTS.
Chap. i. The Notions of Moral Liberty and Necefity fated, 267
2. Of the Words Caufe and EjfeSl, A£lion, and AElive '
Power, - - - 275
— — 3. Canfes of the Ambiguity of thofe Words, - 281
Chap.
CONTENTS.
vu
^ Page
Chap. 4. Of the Influence of Motives, - - 291
5. Liberty conftftent ivilb Government^ - - 302
6. Firfl Argument for LJberty, - - - 312
7. Second Argument, - - - 323
8. Third Argument, - - - 329
9. Of Arguments for Necejftty, - - - 333
The fame Subject, - - - 346
10.
II. Of the PermiJJion of Evil, - - 3f5
ESSAY V. OF MORALS.
Chap. I. Of the Firjl Principles of Morals, - 369
2. OfSyftems of Morals, _ _ . -gQ
3. Of Syjlems of Natural Jurifprudence, - 387
4. Whether an ASiion deferving Moral Approbation, mujl
be done ivith the Belief of its being morally good, 39 c
5. Whether Jttjiice be a Natural or an Artifcial Virtue, 409
6. Of the Nature and Obligation of a Contrary • 44 c
7. That Moral Approbation implies a real Judgment, 467
ESSAYS
ON THE
ACTIVE POWERS of the HUMAN MIND,
INTRODUCTION.
TH E divifion of the faculties of the human mind into Un- derjlanding and Will is very ancient, and has been very ge- nerally adopted ^ the former comprehending all our fpeculative, the latter all our a<flive Powers.
It is evidently the intention of our Maker, that man fhould be an adlive and not merely a fpeculative being. For this purpofe, certain adtive powers have been given him, limited indeed in many refpeds, but fuited to his rank and place in the creation.
Ouv bufinefs is to manage thefe powers, by propofing to our- felves the beft ends, planning the moft proper fyftem of condud that is in our power, and executing it with induftry and zeal. This is true wifdom ; this is the very intention of our being.
Every thing virtuous and praife-worthy muft lie in the right ufeof our power; every thing vicious and blameable in the abufe of it. What is not within the fphere of our power cannot be imputed to us either for blame or praife. Thefe are felf-evident
A truths,
INTRODUCTION.
truths, to which every unprejudiced mind yields an immediate and invincible afTent.
Knowledge derives its value from this, that it enlarges our power, and direds us in the application of it. For in the right employment of our ad;ive power confifts all the honour, digni- ty and worth of a man, and, in the abufe and perverfion of it, all vice, corruption and depravity.
We are diflinguiflied from the brute-animals, not lefs by our active than by our fpeculative powers.
The brutes are Simulated to various adlions by their inftinds, by their appetites, by their paflions. But they feem to be ne- ceflarily determined by the flrongeft impulfe, without any capa- city of felf-government. Therefore we do not blame them for what they do ; nor have we any reafon to think that they blame themfelves. They may be trained up by difcipline, but cannot be governed by law. There is no evidence that they have the conception of a law, or of its obligation.
Man is capable of ading from motives of a higher nature. He perceives a dignity and worth in one courfe of condudl, a de- merit and turpitude in another, which brutes have not the capa- city to difcern.
He perceives it to be his duty to a<5l the worthy and the ho- nourable part, whether his appetites and paflions incite him to it, or to the contrary. When he facrifices the gratification of the flrongeft appetites or paflions to duty, this is fo far from dimi- niftiing the merit of his condud, that it greatly increafes it, and affords, upon refledlion, an inward fatisfadion and triumph, of which brute-animals are not fufceptible. When he ads a contrary part, he has a confcioufnefs of demerit, to which they are no lefs ftrangers.
Since,
INTRODUCTION.
Since, therefore, the active powers of man make fo important a part of his conftitution, and diftinguifh him fo eminently from his fellow-animals, they defer%'e no lefs to be the fubje<^ of phi- lofophical difquifition than his intellectual powers.
A jufl: knowledge of our powers, whether intelledual or ac- tive, is fo far of real importance to us, as it aids us in the ex- ercife of them. And every man mufl acknowledge, that to adl properly is much more valuable than to think juftly or reafon acutely.
A 2 ESSAY
ESSAY L
OF ACTIVE POWER IN GENERAL.
CHAP. I. Of the Notion of A&ive Power.
TO confider gravely what Is meant by Adtive Power, may feem altogether unneceflary, and to be mere trifling. It is not a term of art, but a common word in our language, ufed every day in difcourfe, even by the vulgar. We find words of the fame meaning in all other languages ; and there is no reafon to think that it is not perfectly underftood by all men who un- derftand the Englllh language.
I believe all this is true, and that an attempt to explain a word fo well underftood, and to ftiow that it has a meaning, re- quires an apology.
The apology is. That this term, fo well underftood by the vul- gar, has been darkened by philofophers, who, in this as in many other inftances, have found great difficulties about a thing which, to the reft of mankind, feems perfed:ly clear.
This has been the more eafily effeifted, becaufe Power is a thing fo much of its own kind, and fo fimple in its nature, as not to admit of a logical definition.
It is well known, that there are many things perfedly under- ftood, and of which we have clear and diftindt conceptions,
which
6 E S S A Y I.
CHAP. L which cannot be logically defined. No man ever attempted $o define magnitude ; yet there is no word whofe meaning is more difl:indly or more generally underftood. We cannot give a logi- cal definition of thought, of duration, of number, or of motion.
When men attempt to define fuch things, they give no light. They may give a fynonymous word or phrafe, but it will proba- bly be a worfe for a better. If they will define, the definition will either be grounded upon a hypothefis, or it will darken the fubjed: rather than throw light upon it.
The Ariftotelian definition of motion, that it is " A&us entis in " potentia^quatenus in potentta,^'' has beenjuftly cenfured by modern Philofophers ; yet I think it is matched by what a celebrated mo- dern Philofopher has given us, as the moft accurate definition of belief, to wit, " That it is a lively idea related to or aflbciated " with a prefent impreflion." Treatife of Human Nature, vol. i. p. 172. " Memory," according to the fame Philofopher, " is " the faculty by which we repeat our impreflions, fo as that " they retain a confiderable degree of their firfl vivacity, and " are fomewhat intermediate betwixt an idea and an Imprelllon."
Euclid, if his editors have not done him injuftice, has at- tempted to define a right line, to define unity, ratio and number. But thefe definitions are good for nothing. We may indeed fufped: them not to be Euclid's ; becaufe they are never once quoted in the Elements, and are of no ufe.
I fhall not therefore attempt to define adive power, that I may not be liable to the fame cenfure ; but fliall offer fome oblerva- tions that may lead us to attend to the conception we have of it in our own minds.
I. Power is not an objed of any of our external fenfes, nor even an objed of confcioufhefs.
That
OF THE NOTION OF ACTIVE POWER. 7
That it is not feen, nor heard, nor touched, nor tafted, nor chap, i.^ fmclt, needs no proof. That we are not confcious of it, in the proper fenfe of that word, will be n6 lefs evident, if we re- flect, that confcioufnefs is that power of the mind by which it has an immediate knowledge of its own operations. Po\Ver is not an operation of the mind, and therefore no objed of cbn- fcioufneis. Indeed every operation of the mind is the exertion of fome power of the mind ; but we are confcious of the ope- ration only, the power lies behind the fcene; and though we may juftly infer the power from the operation, it muft be re- membered, that inferring is not the province of confcioufnefs, but of rcaion.
I acknowledge, therefore, that our having ahy conception of idea of power is repuguant to Mr Locke's theory, that all our Am- ple ideas are got either by the external fenfes, or by confcioufnefs. Both cannot be true. Mr Hume perceived this repugnancy, and confiftently maintained, that we have no idea of power. Mr Locke did not perceive it. If he had, it might have led him to fufped his theory j for when theory is repugnant to facfl, it is eafy to fee which ought to yield. I am confcious that I have a conception or iJea of power, but, ftriclly fpeaking, I am not confcious that 1 have power.
I fliall have occafion to (hew, that we have very early, from our conftitution, a convic'liou or belief of fome degree of adive power in ourfelves. This belief, however, is not confcioufnefs : For we may be deceived in it ; but the teftimony of confciouf- nefs can never deceive. Thus, a man who is (truck with a palfy in the night commonly knows not that he has loft the power of fpeech till he attempts to fpeak ; he knows not whether he can move his hands and arms till he makes the trial ; and if, with- out making trial, he confults his confcioufnefs ever fo attentive- ly, it will give him no information whether he has loft thefe powers, or iUll retains them.
From
^
ESSAY I.
» — ^ — '
CHAP. I. From this we muft conclude, that the powers we have are not an objed of confcloufnefs, though it would be foolifh to cenfure this way of fpeaking in popular difcourfe, which requires not accurate attention to the different provinces of our various fa- culties. The teftimony of confcloufnefs is always unerring, nor was it ever called in queflion by the greateft fceptics, ancient or modem.
2. A fecond obfervation is. That as there are fome things of which we have a dired, and others of which we have only a re- lative conception, power belongs to the latter clafs.
As this diftindion is overlooked by moft writers In logic, I fliall beg leave to Illuflrate it a little, and then fhall apply It to the prefent fubjed.
Of fome things we know what they are in themfelves ; our conception of fuch things I call direB. Of other things, we know not what they are in themfelves, but only that they have certain properties or attributes, or certain relations to other things ; of thefe oui* conception is only relative.
To Illuftrate this by fome examples : In the unlverfity-library, I call for the book, prefs L, fhelf lo. No. lo. ; the library- keeper muft have fuch a conception of the book I want, as to be able to dlftlngulfh it from ten thoufand that are under his care. But what conception does he form of it from my words ? They inform him neither of the author, nor the fubjed, nor the lan- guage, nor the fize, nor the binding, but only of its mark and place. His conception of it is merely relative to thefe clrcum- ftances ; yet this relative notion enables him to diftinguifli it from every other book in the library.
There are other relative notions that are not taken from ac- cidental relations, as in the example juft now mentioned, but from qualities or attributes eflential to the thing.
Of
OF THE NOTION OF ACTIVE POWER. <
Of this kind are our notions both of body and mind. What CHAP, r. is body ? It is, fay Phllofophers, that which is extended, folid and divifible. Says the querift, 1 do not afk what the properties of body arc, but what is the thing itfelf ^ let me firft know diredly what body is, and then confider its properties ? To this demand I am afraid the querift will meet with no fatisfadory anfwer ; becaufe our notion of body is not diredl but relative to its qua- lities. We know that it is fomething extended, folid and divi- fible, and we know no more.
Again, if It fhould be afked, What Is mind ? It is that which thinks. I afk not what it does, or what its operations are, but what it is ? To this I can find no anfwer j our notion of mind being not dired, but relative to its operations, as our notion of body Is relative to its qualities.
There are even many of the qualities of body, of which we have only a relative conception. What Is heat In a body ? It is a quality which affeds the fenfe of touch In a certain way. If you want to know, not how It affeds the fenfe of touch, but what It Is In Itfelf ; this I confefs I know not. My conception of it Is not dired, but relative to the effed It has upon bodies. The notions we have of all thofe qualities which Mr Locke calls fecondary, and of thofe he calls powers of bodies, fuch as the power of the magnet to attrad iron, or of fire to burn wood, are relative.
Having given examples of things of which our conception is only relative, it may be proper to mention fome of which It Is dired. Of this kind, are all the primary qualities of body ; fi- gure, extenfion, folidlty, hardnefs, fluidity, and the like. Of thefe we have a dired and Immediate knowledge from our fenfes. To this clafs belong alfo all the operations of mind of which we are confcious. I know what thought Is, what memory, what a purpofe, what a promife.
B There
10
ESSAY I.
CHAP. I. There are fome things of which we can have both a direcft and a relative conception. I can diredlly conceive ten thoufand men or ten thoufand pounds, becaufe both are objeds of fenfe, and may be feen. But whether I fee fuch an objed:, or dire(5lly con- ceive it, my notion of it is indiflind ; it is only that of a great multitude of men, or of a great heap of money ; and a fmall addition or diminution makes no perceptible change in the no- tion I form in this way. But I can form a relative notion of the fame number of men or of pounds, by attending to the re- lations which this number has to other numbers, greater or lefs. Then I perceive that the relative notion is diftin(St and fcientific. For the addition of a fingle man, or a fingle pound, or even of a penny, is ealily perceived.
In like manner, I can form a diredl notion of a polygon of a thoufand equal fides and equal angles. This direct notion can- not be more diflintfl, when conceived in the mind, than that which I get by fight, when the objedl is before me ; and I find it fo indiftind:, that it has the fame appearance to my eye, or to my dired conception, as a polygon of a thoufand and one, or of nine hundred and ninety-nine fides. But when I form a rela- tive conception of it, by attending to the relation it bears to polygons of a greater or lefs number of fides, my notion of it becomes diftind and fcientific, and I can demonfl;rate the pro- perties by which it is diftinguifhed from all other polygons. From thefe inflances it appears, that our relative conceptions of things are not always lefs difi;ind, nor lefs fit materials for accu- rate reafoning, than thofe that are dired j and that the con- trary may happen in a remarkable degree.
Our conception of power Is relative to its exertions or effeds. Power is one things its exertion is another thing. It is true, there can be no exertion without power; but there may be power that is not exerted. Thus a man may have power to fpeak when he is filentj he may have power to rife and walk when he fits flill.
But
OF THE NOTION OF ACTIVE POWER. n
But though it be one thing to fpeak, and another to have the CHAI'. i.^ power of fpeaking, I apprehend we conceive of the power as fomething which has a certain relation to the efled. And of every power we form our notion by the effed which it is able to produce.
3. It is evident that power is a quality, and cannot exifl with- out a fubjed to which it belongs.
That power may exiil: without any being or fubjed to which that power may be attributed, is an abfurdity, fhocking to every man of common underllanding.
It is a quality which may be varied, not only in degree, but alfo in kind ; and we diftinguifli both the kinds and degrees by the effedts which they are able to produce.
Thus a power to fly, and a power to reafon, are different kinds of power, their effeds being different in kind. But a power to carry one hundred weight, and a power to carry two hundred, are different degrees of the fame kind.
4. We cannot conclude the want of power from its not being exerted ; nor from the exertion of a lefs degree of power, can we conclude that there is no greater degree in the fubjed. Thus, though a man on a particular occafion faid nothing, we cannot conclude from that circumflance, that he had not the power of fpeech ; nor from a man's carrying ten pound weight, can we conclude that he had not power to carry twenty.
5. There are fome qualities that have a contrary, others that have not ; power is a quality of the latter kind.
Vice is contrary to virtue, mifery to happinefs, hatred to love, negation to affirmation ; but there is no contrary to power. Weak-
B 2 nefs
12 E S S A Y I.
CHAP. I. nefs or impotence are defeds or privations of power, but not contraries to it.
If what has been faid of power be ealily underftood, and rea- dily aflented to, by all who underftand our language, as I believe it is, we may from this juflly conclude. That we have a diftind notion of power, and may reafon about it with underltanding, though we can give no logical definition of it..
If power were a thing of which we have no idea, as fome Philofophers have taken much pains to prove, that is, if power were a word without any meaning, we could neither affirm nor deny any thing concerning it with underftanding. We fhould have equal reafon to fay that it is a fubftance, as that it is a qua- lity ; that it does not admit of degrees as that it does. If the underftanding immediately aflents to one of thefe affertions, and revolts from the contrary, we may conclude with certainty, that we put fome meaning upon the word power, that is, that we have fome idea of it. And it is chiefly for the fake of this con- clufion, that I have enumerated fo many obvious things concern- ing it.
The term adive power is ufed, I conceive, to diftinguifh it from fpeculative powers. As all languages diflinguifh adlion from fpeculation, the fame difl;ind:ion is applied to the powers by which they are produced. The powers of feeing, hearing, remembering, diftinguifhing, judging, reafoning, are fpeculative powers ; the power of executing any work of art or labour is adive power.
There are many things related to power, in fuch a manner, that we can have no notion of them if we have none of power.
The exertion of adlive power we call aEl'ion; and as every adion produces fome change, fo every change muft be caufed by
fome
OFTHENOTIONOFACTIVEPOWER. 13
fome exertion, or by the ceflation of fome exertion of power. That chap. ii. which produces a change by the exertion of its power, we call the caufe of that change ', and the change produced, the effeEl of that caufe.
When one being, by its adive power, produces any change upon another, the lall is faid to be pqffive, or to be aded upon. Thus we fee that adion and paffion, cuufe and effed, exertion and operation, have fuch a relation to adive power, that if it be underftood, they are underftood of confequence ; but if power be a word without any meaning, all thofe words which are related to it, nuift be words without any meaning. They are, however, common words in our language j and equivalent words have always been common in all languages.
It would be very ftrange indeed, if mankind had always ufed thefe words fo familiarly, without perceiving that they had no meaning ; and that this difcovery fliould have been firft made by a Philofophcr of the prefent age.
With equal reafon it might be maintained, that though there are words in all languages to exprefs fight, and words to fignify the various colours which are objeds of fight ; yet that all man- kind from the beginning of the world had been blind, and never had an idea of fight or of colour. But there are no abfurdities fo grofs as thofe which Philofophers have advanced concerning ideas.
CHAP. II.
The fame Subje£l.
THERE are, I believe, no abftrad notions, that are to be found more early, or more univerfally, in the minds of men, than thofe of ading, and being aded upon. Every child that
underftands
*4
ESSAY I.
CHAP. II. underftands the difllndlon between ftriking and being flruck, mufl have the conception of adlion and pailion.
We find accordingly, that there Is no language fo Imperfed, but that it has adive and paffive verbs, and participles ; the one fig- nifying fome kind of adionj the other the being aded upon. This diftindion enters into the original contexture of all lan- guages.
Adive verbs have a form and conftrudtlon proper to them- felves ; paffive verbs a different fonn and a different conflru6lion. In all languages, the nominative to an adlive verb is the agent; the thing aded upon is put in an oblique cafe. In paffive verbs, the thing adted upon is the nominative, and the agent, if expreC- fed, muit be in an oblique cafe ; as in this example : Raphael drew the Cartoons j the Cartoons were drawn by Raphael.
Every diftindlon which we find m the ftrufture of all lan- guages, mufl: have been familiar to thofe who framed the lan- guages at firft, and to all who fpeak them with underftanding.
It may be objeded to this argument, taken from the ftrudure of language, in the ufe of a6tive and paffive verbs, that adive verbs are not always ufed to denote an ad:ion, nor is the nomina- tive before an active verb, conceived in all cafes to be an agent, in the ftridl fenfe of that word j that there are many paffive verbs which have an adlive fignification, and adlive verbs which have a paffive. From thefe fadts, it may be thought a jufl: con- clufion, that in contriving the different forms of adllve and paf- five verbs, and their different conftruClion, men have not been governed by a regard to any diftindlion between adlion and paf- fion, but by chance, or fome accidental caufe.
In anfwer to this objedion, the fad an which it Is founded,
mufl
OF THE NOTION OF ACTIVE POWER. 15
mud be admitted ; hut I think the conclufion not juftly drawn chap, il from it, for the following reafons :
1. It feems contrary to reafon, to attribute to chance or acci- dent, what is fubjed to rules, even though there may be excep- tions to the rule. The exceptions may, in fuch a cafe, be attri- buted to accident, but the rule cannot. There is perhaps hard- ly any thing in language fo general, as not to admit of excep- tions. It cannot be denied to be a general rule, that verbs and participles have an adive and a pallive voice ; and as this is a general rule, not in one language only, but in all the languages we are acquainted with, it fhews evidently that men, in the ear- lieft ftages, and in all periods of fociety, have diftinguifhedadlion from paflion.
2. It is to be obferved, that the forms of language are often ap- plied to purpofes different from thofe for which they were ori- ginally intended. The varieties of a language, even the moft perfect, can never be made equal to all the variety of human conceptions. The forms and modifications of language mull be confined within certain Imiits, that they may not exceed the ca- pacity of human memory. Therefore, in all languages, there muft be a kind of frugality ufed, to make one form of expref- fion ferve many different purpofes, like Sir Hudibras' dagger, which, though made to ftab or break a head, was put to many other ufes. Many examples might be produced of this frugali- ty in language. Thus the Latins and Greeks had five or fix cafes of nouns, to exprefs the various relations that one thing could bear to another. The genitive cafe muff have been at firft intended to exprefs fome one capital relation, fuch as that of poiTeflion or of property ; but it would be very difficult to enumerate all the relations which, in the progrefs of language, it was ufed to exprefs. The fame obl'crvatioa may be applied to other cafes of nouns.
The
i6 E S S A Y I.
CHAP. II. The flighteft fimilltude or analogy is thought fufficlent to juf^ tify the extenfion of a form of fpeech beyond its proper mean- ing, whenever the language does not afford a more proper form. In the moods of verbs, a few of thofe which occur moll fre- quently are diftinguifhed by different forms, and thefe are made to fupply all the forms that are wanting. The fame obferva- tion may be applied to what is called the voices of verbs. An adiive and a paiUve are the capital ones ; fome languages have more, but no language fo many as to anfwer to all the variations of human thought. We cannot always coin new ones, and there- fore muft ufe fome one or other of thofe that are to be found in the language, though at firft intended for another purpofe.
3. A third obfervation in anfwer to the objedlion is. That we can point out a caufe of the frequent mifapplication of adive verbs, to things which have no proper adlivity : A caufe which extends to the greater part of fuch mifapplications, and which confirms the account I have given of the proper intention of adive and pallive verbs.
As there is no principle, that appears to be more univerfally ac- knowledged by mankind, from the fii'ft dawn of reafon, than, that every change we obferve in nature mufl have a caufe; fo this is no fooner perceived, than there arifes in the human mind, a flrong defire to know the caufes of thofe changes that fall within our obfervation. Felix qui potuit rerum cognofccre catifas, is the voice of nature in all men. Nor is there any thing that more early di- Itinguiflies the rational from the brute creation, than this avidi- ty to know the caufes of things, of which I fee no fign in brute- animals.
■It muft furely be admitted, that in thofe periods wherein lan- guages are formed, men are but poorly furniftied for carrying on this invelHgation with fuccefs. We fee, that the experience of thoufands of years is neceflary to bring men into the right track
in
OF THE NOTION OF ACTIVE POWER. 17
In this jnvcfligation, if indeed they can yet be Hiid to be brought CUAP^il. into it. What innumerable errors rude ages mufl fall into, with regard to caufes, from impatience to judge, and inability to judge right, we may conje«5ture from reafon, and may fee from experi- ence; from which I think, it is evident, that fuppofing adivc verbs to have been originally intended to exprefs what is properly cal- led adion, and their nominatives to exprefs the agent ; yet, in the rude and barbarous ftate wherein languages are formed, there muft be innumerable mifapplications of fuch verbs and nomina- tives, and many things fpoken of as adlive, which have no real adivity.
To this we may add, that it is a general prejudice of our early years, and of rude nations, when we perceive any thing to be changed, and do not perceive any other thing which we can be- lieve to be the caufe of that change, to impute it to the thing itfelf, and conceive it to be adive and animated, fo far as to have the power of producing that change in itfelf. Hence, to a child, or to a favage, all nature feems to be animated ; the fea, the earth, the air, the fun, moon, and ftars, rivers, fountains and groves, are conceived to be adive and animated beings. As this is a fentiment natural to man in his rude flate, it has, on that account, even in polilhed nations, the verifimilitude that is required in poetical fic- tion and fable, and makes perfonification one of the moft agreeable figures in poetry and elofjuence.
The origin of this prejudice probably is, that we judge of other things by ourfelves, and therefore are difpofed to afcribe to them that life and adivity which we know to be in ourfelves.
A little girl afcribes to her doll, the pafTions and fentiments
flie feels in herfclf. Even brutes feem to have fomething of this
nature. Ayoung cat, when (he fees any brifk motion in a feather
or a draw, is prompted, by natural inftind, to hunt it as (he would
hunt a moufe.
C Whatever
i8 E S S A Y I.
v.
CHAP. II. Whatever be the origin of this prejudice in mankind, it has a. powerful influence upon language, and leads men, in the ftruc- ture of language, to afcribe action to many things that are merely paflive ; becaufe, when fuch forms of fpeech were invented, thofe things were really believed to be adive. Thus we fay, the wind blows, the fea rages, the fun rifes and fets, bodies gravitate and move.
When experience difcovers that thefe things are altogether in- adlive, it is eafy to correal our opinion about them ; but it is not fo eafy to alter the efbablifhed forms of language. The moft perfe6l and the mofl: poliHied languages are like old furniture, which is never perfedlly fuited to the prefent tafte, but retains fomething of the fafliion of the times when it was made.
Thus, though all men of knowledge believe, that the fuccef- fion of day and night is owing to the rotation of the earth round Its axis, and not to any diurnal motion of the heavens ; yet we find ourfelves under a neceility of fpeaking in the old flyle, of the fun's rifing and going down, and coming to the meridian. And this fliyle is ufed, not only In converfing with the vulgar, but when men of knowledge converfe with one another. And if we ihould fuppofe the vulgar to be at laft fo far enlightened,, as to have the fame belief with the learned, of the caufe of day and night, the fame ftyle would ftlll be ufed.
From this inftance we may learn, that the language of man- kind may furnlfh good evidence of opinions which have been early and unlverfally entertained, and that the forms contrived for expreiling fuch opinions, may remain In ufe after the opinions which gave rife ta them have been greatly changed.
Adllve verbs appear plainly to have been firft contrived to ex- prefs adion. They are Hill In general applied to this purpofe. And though we find many inllances of the application of adive
verbs
OF THE NOTION OF ACTIVE POWER. 19
verbs to thinj^s which we now believe not to be adive, this one;ht to be afcribed to mens having once had the belief that thofe things are adive, and perhaps, in fome cafes, to this, that forms of exprelhon are commonly extended, in courfc of time, beyond their original intention, either from analogy, or hecanfe more proper forms for the purpofe nre not found in lan- guage.
Even the mifapplication of this notion of adtion and adlive power fliews that there is fuch a notion in the human mind, and flaews the neceiTity there is in philofophy of diftinguifhing the proper application of thefe words, from the vague and improper application of them, founded on common language, or on po- pular prejudice.
Another argimient to fliew that all men have a notion or idea of adive power is, that there are many operations of mind com- mon to all men who have reafon, and neceflary in the ordinary conduct of life, which imply a belief of adive power in our- felves and in others.
All our volitions and efforts to ad, all our deliberations, our purpofes and promifes, imply a belief of adive power in our- felves ; our counfcls, exhortations and commands, imply a belief of adive power in thofe to whom they are addrefled.
If a man (hould make an efTort to fly to the moon; if he fhould even deliberate about it, or refolve to do it, we fliould conclude him to be lunatic ; and even lunacy would not account for his condud, unlefs it made him believe the thing to be in his power.
If a man promifes to pay me a fura of money to-morrow, with- out believing that it will then be in his power, he is not an ho- neft man ; and, if 1 did not believe that it will then be in his power, I fliould have no dependence on his proniife.
C 2 All
CHAP. II.
20
ESSAY I.
CHAP. 11. All our power is, without doubt, derived from the Author of our being, and, as he gave it freely, he may take it away when he will. No man can be certain of the continuance of any of his powers of body or mind for a moment ; and, therefore, in every promife, there is a condition underflood, to wit, if we live, if we retain that health of body and foundnefs of mind which is neceflary to the perfoi-mance, and if nothing happen-, in the providence of God, which puts it out of our power. The rudefl; favages are taught by nature to admit thefe condi- tions in all promifes, whether they be exprefTed or not ; and na man is charged with breach of promife, when he fails through the failure of thefe conditions.
It is evident, therefore, that, without the belief of fome ac- tive power, no honefl man would make a promife, no wife man would trufi; to a promife ; and it is no lefs evident, that the be- lief of adlive power, in ourfelves or in others, implies au idea or notion of adive power.
The fame reafoning may be applied to every inftance wherein we give counfel to others, wherein we perfuade or command. As long, therefore, as mankind are beings who can deliberate and refolve and will, as long as they can give counfel, and exhort, and command, they muft believe the exiftence of axSive power in themfelves, and in others, and therefoi-e muft have a notion or idea of adive power.
It might farther be obferved, that power is the proper and immediate object of ambition, one of the moft univerfal paf- fions of the human mind, and that which makes the greateft fi- gure in the hiftory of all ages. Whether Mr Hume, in defence of his fyftem, would maintain that there is no fuch pallion in mankind as ambition, or that ambition is not a vehement defire of power, or that men may have a vehement defire of power, without having any idea of power, I will not pretend to divine.
I
OF THE NOTION OF ACTIVE POWER. 21
I cannot help repeating my apology for infifting fo long in the CHAP, ii.^ refutation of fo great an abfiirdity. It is a capital dodrine in a late celebrated fyfteni of human nature, that we have no idea of power, not even in the Deity ; that we are not able to difco- ver a fingle inftance of it, either in body or fpirit, either in fuperior or inferior natures ; and that we deceive ourfclves when we imagine that we are poffefled of any idea of this kind.
To fupport this important doclrine, and the out-works that are railed in its defence, a great part of the firft volume of the Treatife of Human Nature is employed. That fyftem abounds with conclufions the moft abfurd that ever were advanced by any Philofopher, deduced with great acutencfs and ingenuity from principles commonly received by Philofophers. To rejed: fuch conclufions as unworthy of a hearing, would be difrefpedl- ful to the ingenious author ; and to refute them is difficult, and appears ridiculous.
It is difficult, becaufe we can hardly find principles to reafon from, niore evident than thofe we wifli to prove ; and it appears ridiculous, becaufe, as this author juftiy obfervcs, next to the ridicule of denying an evident truth, is that of taking much pains to prove it.
Proteflants complain, with juftice, of the hardfhip put upon them by Roman Catholics, in requiring them to prove that bread and wine is not flefh and blood. They have, however, fubmit- tcd to this hardfhip for the fake of truth. I think it is no lefs hard to be put to prove that men have an idea of power.
What convinces myfelf that I have an idea of power is, that I am confcious that 1 know what I mean by that word, and, while I have this confcioufnefs, I difdain equally to hear argu- ments for or againft my having fuch an idea. But if we would convince thofc, who, being led away by prejudice, or by autho- rity.
22 E S S A Y I.
CHAP. IL rify^ deny that they have any fuch idea, we muft condefcend to ufe fuch arguments as the fubjed will afford, and fuch as we fhould ufe with a man who fliould deny that mankind have any idea of magnitude or of equality.
The arguments I have adduced are taken from thefe five to- pics: I. That there are many things that we can affirm or deny concerning power, with underflanding. 2. That there are, In all languages, words fignlfying, not only power, but fignifying many other things that imply power, fuch as, adion and paffion, caufe and effed, energy, operation, and others. 3. That in the llruc- ture of all languages, there is an adive and pafllve form in. verbs and participles, and a different conftrudion adapted to thefe forms, of which diverfity no account can be given, but that it has been intended to diftinguifli adlion from paffion. 4. That there are many operations of the human mind familiar to every man come to the ufe of reafon, and neceflary in the ordinary con- dud of life, which imply a convidlon of fome degree of power in ourfelves and In others. 5. That the defire of power is one of the ftrongeft paffions of human nature.
CHAP. III. Of Mr Locke's Account of our Idea of Power.
THIS author, having refuted the Cartefian dodrlne of innate ideas, took up, perhaps too raflily, an opinion that all our fimple Ideas are got, either by fenfatlon or by refledlon j that Is, by our external fenfes, or by confcloufnefs of the operations of our own minds.
Through the whole of his Effay, he fhews a fatherly affec- tion to this opinion, and often drains very hard to reduce our fimple ideas to one of thofe fources, or both. Of this, feveral
inftances
Mr LOCKE'S ACCOUNT OF POWER. 43
inftances might be given, in his account of our idea of fub- CHAP. IIL ftance, of duration, of perfonal identity. Omitting thefe, as foreign to the prcfent fubjed, 1 fhall only take notice of the ac- count he gives of our idea of power.
The fum of it is, That obferving, by our fenfes, various changes in objedls, we coUedl a pofllbility in one objedl to be changed, and in another a pofllbihty of making that change, and fo come by that idea which we call power.
Thus we fay the fire has a power to melt gold, and gold has power to be melted ; the firfl he calls active, the fecond palHve power.
He thinks, however, that we have the raoft diftindt notion of a<ftive power, by attending to the power which we ourfelves ex- ert, in giving motion to our bodies when at reft, or in directing our thoughts to this or the other objedl as we will. And this ■way of forming the idea of power he attributes to reflexion, as he refers the former to fenfation.
On this account of the origin of our idea of power, I would beg leave to make two remarks, with the refpe(ft* that is moft juflly due to fo great a Philofopher, and fo good a man.
1. Whereas he diftinguifhes power into aHive and pajfive, I con- ceive paflive power is no power at all. He means by it, the pof- fibility of being changed. To call this poiver, feems to be a mifapplication of the word. I do not remember to have met ■with the phrafe pajfive power in any other good autlior. Mr Locke feems to have been unlucky in inventing it; and it de- ferves not to be retained in our language.
Perhaps he was unwarily led into it, as an oppofite to adive po^wer. But 1 conceive we call certain powers acJive, to diftin-
guifli
H
ESSAY I.
CHAP. Ill, guifli them from other powers that are called fpeculal'ive. As all mankind diflinguifh action from fpeculation, it is very proper to diftinguifh the powers by which thofe different oper tions are performed, into adive and fpeculative. Mr Locke indeed acknow- ledges that active power is more properly called power j but I fee no propriety at all in pallive power j it is a powerlefs power, and a contradidlion in terms.
2. I would obferve, that Mr Locke feems to have impofed upon hlmfelf, in attempting to reconcile this account of the idea of power to his favourite dodrine. That all our fimple ideas are ideas of fenfation, or of refledion.
There are two fleps, according to his account, which the mind takes, in forming this idea of power ; Jirji, It obferves changes in things j and, fecondly, From thefe changes, it infers a caufe of them, and a power to produce them.
If both thefe lieps are operations of the external fenfes, or of confcioufnefs, then the idea of power may be called an idea of fenfation, or of refledion. But, if either of thofe fleps requires the co-operation of other powers of the mind, it will follow, that the idea of power cannot be got by fenfation, nor by reflec- tion, nor by both together. Let us, therefore, conlider each of thefe fteps by itfelf.
Firjl, We obferve various changes in things. And Mr Locke takes it for granted, that changes in external things are obferved by our fenfes, and that changes in our thoughts are obferved by confcioufnefs. '
I grant that it may be faid, that changes in things are ob- ferved by our fenfes, when we do not mean to exclude every other faculty from a fhare in this operation. And it would be ridicu- lous to cenfure the phrafe, when it is fo ufed in popular difcourfe.
But
Mr LOCKE'S ACCOUNT OF POWER. 25
But it is neccfHiry to Mr LockIe's purpofe, that changes in chap, iir^ external things fliould be obferved by the fenfes alone, excluding every other faculty ; becaufe every faculty that is ncceflary in order to obferve the change, will claim a fliarc in the origin of the idea of power.
Now, it is evident, that memory is no Icfs neccfTIiry than the fenfes, in order to our obferving changes in external things, and therefore the idea of power, derived from the changes obferved, may as jullly be afcribed to memory as to the fenfes.
Every change fuppofes two ftates of the thing changed. Both ihefe ftates may be part ; one of them at leafl muft be part ; and one only can be prefent. By our fenfes we may obferve the pre- fent ftate of the thing ; but memory muft fupply us with the part ; and, unlefs we remember the paft ftate, we can perceive no change.
The fame obfervation may be applied to confcioufnefs. The truth, therefore, is, that, by the fenfes alone, without memory, or by confcioufnefs alone, without memory, no change can be obferved. Every idea, therefore, that is derived from obferving changes in things, muft have its origin, partly from memory, and not from the fenfes alone, nor from confcioufnefs alone, nor from both together.
The fecond ftep made by the mind in forming this idea of pov.cr is this : From the changes obferved we colledl a caufe of thofe changes, and a power to produce them.
Here one might afk Mr Locke, whether it is by our fenfes that we draw this conclufion, or is it by confcioufnefs ? Is rea- foning the province of the fenfes, or is it the province of con- fcioufnefs ? If the fenfes can draw one conclufion from premifes,
D they
26 E S S A Y I.
CHAP. IV. they may draw five hundred, and demonflrate the whole ele- ments of Euclid.
Thus, I think, it appears, that the account which Mr Locke himfelf gives of the origin of our idea of power, cannot be re- conciled to his favourite dodrine, That all our fimple ideas have their origin from fenfation or refledion ; and that, in attempting to derive the idea of power from thefe two fources only, he un- awares brings in our memory, and our reafoning power, for a {hare in its origin.
CHAP. IV. Of Mr Hume's Opinion of the Idea of Power.
THIS very ingenious author adopts the principle of Mr Locke before mentioned. That all our fimple ideas are de- rived either from fenfation or refledlion. This he feems to un- derftand, even in a ftrider fenfe than Mr Locke did. For he will have all our fimple ideas to be copies of preceeding impref- fions, either of our external fenfes or of confcioufnefs. " After " the moft; accurate examination," fays he, " of which I am " capable, I venture to affirm, that the rule here holds without " any exception, and that every fimple idea has a fimple im- " prefilon which refembles it, and every fimple imprellion a " correfpondent idea. Every one may fatisfy himfelf in this " point, by running over as many as he pleafes."
I obferve here, by the way, that this conclufion is formed by the author rafhly and unphilofophically. For it is a conclufion that admits of no proof, but by indudion ; and it is upon this ground that he himfelf founds it. The indudion cannot be per- fedl till every fimple idea that can enter into the human mind be examined, and be fhewn to be copied from a refembling im-
prefilon
Mr HUME'S OPINION OF POWER. 27
prcffion of fcnCc or of confcioufnefs. No man can pretend to CHAP, iv. have made this examination of all our funple ideas without ex- ception; and, therefore, no man can, confidently with the rules of philofophifniG;-, afllire us, that this conclufion holds without any exception.
The author profelles, in his title-page, to introduce into moral fuhjeds the experimental method of reafoning. This was a very laudahle attempt ; but he ought to have known, that it is a rule in the experimental method of reafoning, That conclufions efta- bliflied by indudion ought never to exclude exceptions, if any fuch fliould afterwards appear from obfervation or experiment. Sir Isaac Newton, fpeaking of fuch conclufions, fays, " Et fi " quando in experiundo poflea reperiatur aliquid, quod a parte " contraria faciat ; tum demum, non fine iftis exceptionibus af- " firmetur conclufio opportebit." " But," fays our author, " I " will venture to afiirm, that the rule here holds without any ex- " ception."
Accordingly, throughout the whole treatife, this general rule is confidered as of fufficient authority, in itfelf, to exclude, even from a hearing, every thing that appears to be an exception to it. This is contrary to the fundamental principles of the ex- perimental method of reafoning, and therefore may be called rafli and unphilofophical.
Having thus cftabliflied this general principle, the author does *
great execution by it among our ideas. He finds, that we have no idea of fubllance, material or fpiritual; that body and mind are only certain trains of related imprelTions and ideas; that we have no idea of fpace or duration, and no idea of power, adlive or intelledive.
Mr Locke ufed his principle of fenfation and refledion with greater moderation and mercy. Being unwilling to thrufi the
D 2 ideas
28 E S S A Y I.
CHAP. IV. ideas we have mentioned into the limbo of non-exiftence, he ftretches fenfation and refledion to the very utmoft, in order to receive thefe ideas within the pale ; and draws them into it, as it were by violence.
But this author, inflead of fhewing them any favour, feems fond to get rid of them.
Of the ideas mentioned, it is only that of power that con- cerns our prefent fubjed. And, with regard to this, the author boldly affirms, " That we never have any idea of power ; that " we deceive ourfelves when we imagine we are poflefTed of any " idea of this kind."
He begins with obferving, " That the terms efficacy, agency, " power, force, energy, are all nearly fynonymous ^ and therefore " it is an abfurdlty to employ any of them in defining the reft. " By this obfervation," fays he, " we rejed at once all the vul- " gar definitions which Philofophers have given of power and " efficacy.^^
Surely this author was not ignorant, that there are many things of which we have a clear and diftindl conception, which are fo fimple in their nature, that they cannot be defined any other way than by fynonymous words. It is true that this is not a logical definition, but that there is, as he affirms, an abfurdity in ufing if, when no better can be had, I cannot perceive.
He might here have applied to power and ejficacy what he fays, in another place, of pri^le and humility. " The pafllons of pride " and humility" he fays, " being fimple and uniform impref- , " fions, it is impofiible we can ever give a jufi definition of " them. As the words are of general ufe, and the things they ** reprefent the mod common of any, every one, of himfelf,
•• will
Mr HUME'S OPINION OF POWER.
39
" will he able to form a jufl notion of them without danger of CHAP. IV. " miftake." '
He mentions Mr Locke's account of the idea of power, That, obferving various changes in things, we conclude, that there mull be fomewhere a power capable of producing them, and fo arrive at laft, by this real'oning, at the idea of power and effi- cacy.
" But," fays he, " to be fatisfied that this explication is more " popular than philofophical, we need but refled: on two very " obvious principles ; fifjl. That reafon alone can never give " rife to any original idea j and, fecondly. That reafon, as dl- " ftinguifhed from experience, can never make us conclude, " that a caufe, or produdive quality, is abfolutely requifite to " every beginning of exiftence."
Before v/e confider the two principles which our author op- pofes to the popular opinion of Mr Locke, I obferve,
Firjl, That there are fome popular opinions, which, on that very account, deferv-e more regard from Philofophers, than this author is willing to bellow.
That things cannot begin to cxifl, nor undergo any change, without a caufe that hath power to produce that change, is in- deed fo popular an opinion, that, 1 believe, this author is the firft of mankind that ever called it in queflion. It is fo popular, that there is not a man of common prudence who does not ad from this opinion, and rely upon it every day of his life. And any man who fliould condud himfelf by the contrary opinion would foon be confined as infane, and continue in that flate till a fuHkicnt caufe was found for his enlargement.
Such a popular opinion as this, (lands upon a higher authori- ty
3°
ESSAY 1.
CHAP. IV. ty than that of philofophy, and philofophy muft ftrike fail to it, if fhe would not render herfelf contemptible to every man of com- mon underftanding.
For though, in matters of deep (peculation, the multitude muft be guided by Philofophers, yet, in things that are within the reach of every man's underftanding, and upon which the whole condudt of human life turns, the Philofopher muft fol- low the multitude, or make himfelf perfedly ridiculous.
Secondly, I obferve, that whether this popular opinion be true or falfe, it follows from mens having this opinion, that they have an idea of power. A falfe opinion about power, no lefs than a true, implies an idea of power ; for how can men have any opinion, true or falfe, about a thing of which they have no idea ?
The Jirji of the very obvious principles which the author op- pofes to Mr Locke's account of the idea of power, is, Thatrea- fon alone can never give rife to any original idea.
This appears to me fo far from being a very obvious princi- ple, that the contrary is very obvious.
Is it not our reafoning faculty that gives rife to the idea of reafoning itfelf ? As our idea of fight takes its rife from our be- ing endowed with that faculty ; fo does our idea of reafoning. Do not the ideas of demonftration, of probability, our ideas of a fyllogifm, of major, minor and conclufion, of an enthymeme, dilemma, forites, and all the various modes of reafoning, take their rife from the faculty of reafon ? Or is it poilible, that a being, not endowed with the faculty of reafoning, fliould have thefe ideas ? This principle, therefore, is fo far from being ob- vioufly true, that it appears to be obvioufly falfe.
The
Mr HUME'S OPINION OF POWER.
The fccond obvious principle is, That reafon, as diftinguifhed CHAP. IV. from experience, can never make us conchidc, that a caufe, or produdlive quality, is abiblutely requifite to every beginning of exiftence.
In fome Eflays on the Intelledual Powers of Man, I had occafion to treat of this principle, That every change in nature muft have a caufe; and, to prevent repetition, I beg leave to refer the reader to what is faid upon this fubjedl, EJfay VT. chap. 6. I endeavoured to fhew that it is a firft princi- ple, evident to all men come to years of underftanding. Be- fides its having been univerfally received, without the lead doubt, from the beginning of the world, it has this fure mark of a fir ft principle, that the belief of it is abfolutely neceflary in the ordinary affairs of life, and, without it, no man could adl with common prudence, or avoid the imputation of inJanity. Yet a Philofopher, who ac^ed upon the finn belief of it every day of his life, thinks fit, in his clofet, to call it in queftion.
He infinuates here, that we may know it from experience. I endeavoured to (hew, that we do not learn it from experience, for two reafons.
Fir^, Becaufe it is a necefHiry truth, and has always been re- ceived as a neceflary truth. Experience gives no information of what is necelTary, or of what muft be.
We may know from experience, what is, or what was, and from that may probably conclude what (hall be in like circum- ftances ; but, with regard to what muft; necefl^arily be, exjjeri- ence is perfectly filent.
Thus we know, by unvaried experience, from the beginning of the world, that the fun and ftars rife in the eaft and fet in the weft. But no man believes, that it could not polTibly have been
otherwife,
32
ESSAY I.
CHAP, iv^ otherwife, or that it did not depend upon the will and power of him who made the world, whether the earth fliould revolve to the eaft or to the wefl.
In like manner, if we had experience, ever fo conftant, that every change in nature we have obferved, actually had a caufe, this might afford ground to believe, that, for the future, it fhall be fo ; but no ground at all to believe that it muft be fo, and cannot be otherwife.
Another reafon to fhew that this principle is not learned from -experience is, That experience does not fliew us a caufe of one in a hundred of thofe changes which we obferve, and therefore can never teach us that there muft be a caufe of all.
Of all the paradoxes this author has advanced, there is not one more Ihocking to the human underftanding than this, That things may begin to exift without a caufe. This would put an end to all fpeculation, as well as to all the bufmefs of life. The employment of fpeculative men, lince the beginning of the world, has been to inveftigate the caufes of things. What pity is it, they never thought of putting the previous quellion, Whe- ther things have a caufe or not ? This queftion has at laft been ftarted j and what is there fo ridiculous as not to be maintained by fome Philofopher?
Enough has been faid upon it, and more, I think, than it de- ferves. But, being about to treat of the adlive powers of the human mind, 1 thought it improper to take no notice of what has been faid by fo celebrated a Philofopher, to fhew, that there is not, in the human mind, any idea of power.
CHAP.
OF BEINGS THAT HAVE NO UNDERSTANDING. 33
CHAP. V.
CHAP. V.
Whether Beings that have no Will nor Under/landing may have A&ive Power ?
THAT adive power is an attribute, which cannot exifl: but in fome being poflelTed of that power, and the fubjed; of that attribute, I take for granted as a felf-evident truth. Whe- ther there can be adtive power in a fubjed which has no thought, no underdanding, no will, is not fo evident.
The ambiguity of the words power, caufe, agent, and of all the words related to thefe, tends to perplex this queftion. The weaknefs of human underftanding, which gives us only an in- dirccl: and relative conception of power, contributes to darken our realbning, and Ihould make us cautious axid modeft in our detenninations.
We can derive little light in this matter from the events which we obferve in the courfe of nature. We perceive changes innu- mer:ible in things without us. We know that thofe changes mufl be produced by the adive power of fome agent ; but we neither perceive the agent nor the power, but the change only. Whether the things be adlive, or merely pallive, is not eafily dif- covered. And though it may be an objedl of curiofity to the fpeculative few, it does not greatly concern the many.
To know the event and the circumftances that attended it, .ind to know in what circumrtances like events may be expeded, may be of confequence in the condud of life ; but to know the real efficient, whether it be matter or mind, whether of a fupe- rior or inferior order, concerns us little.
E Thus
34 . E S S A Y I.
CHAP. V. Thus it is with regard to all the effedls we afcribe to na- ture.
Nature is the name we give to the efficient caufe of innumera- ble effedls which fall daily under our obfervation. But if it be afked what nature is ? Whether the firft unlverfal caufe, or a fubordinate one, whether one or many, whether intelligent or unintelligent ? Upon thefe points we find various conjedures and theories, but no folid ground upon which we can reil. And I apprehend the wifeft men are they who are fenfible that they know nothing of the matter.
From the courfe of events in the natural world, we have fuf- ficient reafon to conclude the exiftence of an eternal intelligent Firft Caufe. But whether he adls immediately in the production of thofe events, or by fubordinate intelligent agents, or by in- ftruments that are unintelligent, and what the number, the na- ture, and the different offices of thofe agents or inftruments may be ; thefe I apprehend to be myfteries placed beyond the limits of human knowledge. We fee an eftablifhed order in the fucceflion of natural events, but we fee not the bond that con- nedts them together.
Since we derive fo little light, v/ith regard to efficient cau(es and their ad:ive power, from attention to the natural world, let us next attend to the moral, I mean, to human actions and con- dud.
Mr Locke obferves very juftly, " That, from the obferva- '• tion of the operation of bodies by our fenfes, we have but a " very imperfect obfcure idea of adlive power, fince they afford us " not any idea in themfelves of the power to begin any adion, " either of motion or thought." He adds, " That we find in " ourfelves a power to begin or forbear, continue or end feveral " adlions of our minds and motions of our bodies, barely by a
" thought
OF BEINCIS THAT HAVE NO UNDERSTANDING. 35
" thouglit or preference of the mind, ordering, or, as it were, CHAP, v.^
" coumianding the doing or not doing fuch a particuhir adtion.
" This power which the mind has tlius to order the confidera-
" tion of any idea, or the forbearing to confider it, or to pre-
" fer the motion of any part of the body to its I'eft, and -y/Vdr ver-
" fa, in any particnhir inftance, is that which we call the ivill.
" The adiiai exercife of that power, by diredling any particular
" adion, or its forbearance, is that which we call volition or
" willing^
"^Yv^ According to Mr Locke, therefore, the only clear notion or idea we have of active power, is taken from the power which we fmd in ourfelves to give certain motions to our bodies, or a certain direction to our thoughts ; and this power in ourfelves can be brought into adlion only by willing or volition.
From this, I think, it follows, that, if we had not will, and that degree of underftanding which will neceflarily im- plies, we could exert no adive power, and confequently could have none : For power that cannot be exerted is no power. It follows alfo, that the adlive power, of which only we can have any diftindl conception, can be only in beings that have under- ftanding and will.
^^^ Power to produce any effedl implies power not to produce it. We can conceive no way in which power may be deter- mined to one of thefe rather than the other, in a being that has no will.
Whatever is the effed of adive power muft be fomething that is contingent. Contingent exiftence is that which depended upon the power and will of its caufe. Oppofed to this, is necef- fary exiltcnce, which we afcribe to the Supreme Being, becaufe his exiftence is not owing to the power of any being. The fmic diftindion there is between contingent and neceflary truth.
E 2 That
36 E S S A Y I.
CHAP. V. That the planets of our fyftem go round the fun from weft to eaft, is a continofent truth ; becaufe it depended upon the power and will of him who made the planetary fyftem, and gave motion to it. That a circle and a right line can cut one another only in two points, is a truth which depends upon no power nor will, and therefore is called neceftary and immutable. Contingency, therefore, has a relation to adlive power, as all ad:ive power is exerted in contingent events ; and as fuch events can have no exiftence, but by the exertion of adlive power.
When I obferve a plant growing from its feed to maturity, I know that there muft be a caufe that has power to produce this effed:. But I fee neither the caufe nor the manner of its ope- ration.
/ But in certain motions of my body and diredllons of my
thought, I know, not only that there muft be a caufe that has power to produce thefe effeds, but that I am that caufe ; and I am confcious of what 1 do in order to the production of them.
From the confcioufnefs of our own adlivity, feems to be de- rived, not only the cleareft, but the only conception we can form of adivity, or the exertion of adlive power.
As I ain unable to form a notion of any intelledlual power different in kind from thofe I poflefs, the fame holds with re- fped to adlive power. If all men had been blind, we ftiould have had no conception of the power of feeing, nor any name for it in language. If man had not the powers of abftradlion and reafoning, we could not have had any conception of thefe operations. In like manner, if he had not fome degree of ac- tive power, and if he were not confcious of the exertion of it in his voluntary adlions, it is probable he could have no con- ception of adlivity, or of acSlive power.
A
OF BEINGS THAT HAVE NO UNDERSTANDING. 37
A train of events following one another ever fo regularly, 'xll^^LZ^ .could never lead us to the notion of a caufe, if we had not, from our conftitution, a convidion of the necelTity of a caufe to eve- ry event.
And of the manner in which a caufe may exert its adive power, we can have no conception, but from confcioufnefs of the manner in which our own adlive power is exerted.
With regard to the operations of nature, it is fufficient for us to know, that, whatever the agents may be, whatever the manner of their operation, or the extent of their power, they depend upon the firft caufe, and are under his control ; and this indeed is all that we know ; beyond this we are left in darknefs. But, in what regards human adions, we have a more immediate concern.
It is of the highefl importance to us, as moral and account- able creatures, to know what adions are in our own power, be- caufe it is for thefe only that we can be accountable to our Ma- ker, or to our fellow-men in fociety ; by thefe only we can me- rit praife or blame ; in thefe only all our prudence, wifdom and virtue muft be employed 3 and, therefore, with regard to them, the wife Author of nature has not left us in the dark.
Every man is led by nature to attribute to himfelf the free de- terminations of his own will, and to believe thofe events to be in his power which depend upon his will. On the other hand, it is felf-evident, that nothiug is in our power that is not fubjedt to our will.
We grow from childhood to manhood, we digeft our food, our blood circulates, our heart and arteries beat, we are fome- times fick and fomttimi s in health ; all thefe things muft be done by the power of fomc agent 3 but they are not done by
our
38 E S S A Y I.
CHAP. V. om- power. How do we know this ? Becaufe they are not fubjedt to our will. This is the infallible "criterion by which we diftinguifh what is our doing from what is not ; what is in our power from what is not.
Human power, therefore, can only be exerted by will, and we are unable to conceive any active power to be exerted without will. Every man knows infallibly that what is done by his con- fcious will and intention, is to be imputed to him, as the agent or caufe ; and that whatever is done without his will and inten- tion, cannot be imputed to him with truth.
We judge of the adions and condud: of other men by the fame rule as we judge of our own. In morals, it is felf-evi- dent that no man can be the objedl either of approbation or of blame for what he did not. But how fhall we know whether it is his doing or not ?ij[f the adlion depended upon his will, and if he intended and willed it, it is his adlion in the judgment of all mankind. But if it was done without his knowledge, or without his will and intention, it is as certain that he did It not, and that it ought not to be imputed to him as the agent.
When there is any doubt to whom a particular adtion ought to be imputed, the doubt arifes only from our ignorance of fadls J when the fads relating to it are known, no man of un- derflanding has any doubt to whom the adtion ought to be im- puted.
The general rules of imputation are felf-evident. They have been the fame in all ages, and among all civilized nations. No man blames another for being black or fair, for having a fever or the falling licknefs ; becaufe thefe things are believed not to be in his power ; and they are believed not to be in his power, becaufe they depend not upon his will. We can never conceive
that
OF BEINGS THAT HAVE NO UNDERSTANDING. 39
that a man's duty goes beyond his power, or that his power goes CHAP, v.^ beyond what depends upon his will.
Reafon leads us to afcribe unlimited power to the Supreme Being. But what do we mean by unlimited power ? It is power to do whatfoever he wills. To fuppofe him to do what he does not will to do, is abfurd.
The only diftincfl conception I can form of adlive power is, that is is an attribute in a being by which he can do certain things if he wills. This, after all, is only a relative conception. It is relative to the effed, and to the will of producing it. Take away thefe, and the conception vaniflies. They are the handles by which the mind takes hold of it. When they are taken away, our hold is gone. The fame is the cafe with regard to other relative conceptions. Thus velocity is a real flate of a body, about which Philofophers reafon with the force of demon- ftration ; but our conception of it is relative to fpace and time. What is velocity in a body ? It is a flate in which it pafles through a certain fpace in a certain time. Space and time are very different from velocity ; but we cannot conceive it but by its relation to them. The effect produced, and the will to pro- duce it, are things different from acftive power, but we can have no conception of it, but by its relation to them.
Whether the conception of an efficient caufc, and of real ac- tivity, could ever have entered into the mind of man, if we had not had the experience of a(^ivity in ourfelves, I am not able to determine with certainty. The origin of many of our concep- tions, and even of many of our judgments, is not fo eafily traced as Philofophers have generally conceived. No man can recol- \e6t the time when he firfl got the conception of an efficient caufe, or the time when he firfl got the belief that an cflicient caufe is nccelfary to every change in nature. The conception of an efficient caufe may very probably be derived from the ex- perience
40 E S S A Y I.
CHAP. V.^ perlence we have had in very early life of our own power to produce certain effefts. But the belief, that no event can hap- pen without an efficient caufe, cannot be derived from expe- rience. We may learn from experience what is, or what was, but no experience can teach us what neceflarily mufl be.
In like manner, we probably derive the conception of pain from the experience we have had of it in ourfelves ; but our be- lief that pain can only exifl in a being that hath life, cannot be got by experience, becaufe it is a neceflary truth ; and no ne- cefTary truth can have its attellation from experience.
If it be fo that the conception of an efficient caufe enters in- to the mind, only from the early conviction we have that we are the efficients of our own voluntary adlions, (which 1 think is moft probable) the notion of efficiency will be reduced to this. That it is a relation between the caufe and the efFed, fimilar to that which is between us and our voluntary adions. This is furely the moft diftindl notion, and, 1 think, the only notion we can form of real efficiency.
Now It is evident, that, to conftitute the relation between me and my action, my conception of the adion, and will to do it, are eflential. For what I never conceived, nor willed, I never did.
If any man, therefore, affirms, that a being may be the effi- cient caufe of an adion, and have power to produce it, which that being can neither conceive nor will, he fpeaks a language which I do not underfland. If he has a meaning, his notion of power and efficiency muft be eflentially different from mine ; and, until he conveys his notion of efficiency to my underftand- ing, I can no more aflent to his opinion, than if hefliould affirm, that a being without life may feel pain.
It
OF THE PHiENOMENA OF NATURE.
It fecms, therefore, to me mod probable, that fuch beings only as have fome degree of underftanding and will, can pofTefs ac- tive power ; and that inanimate beings mufl be merely paflive, and have no real adivity. Nothing we perceive without us af- fords any good ground for afcribing aflive power to any inani- mate being ; and every thing we can difcover in our own con- flitution, leads us to think, that adive power cannot be exerted without will and intelligence.
CHAP. VI.
Of the efficient Catifes of the Phanomena of Nature.
IF adlive power, in its proper meaning, requires a fubjedl en- dowed with will and intelligence, what Ihall we fay of thofe adive powers which Philofophers teach us to afcribe to matter ; the powers of corpufcular attradlion, magnetifm, eledlricity, gravitation, and others ? Is it not univerfally allowed, that hea- vy bodies defcend to the earth by the power of gravity ; that, by the fame power, the moon, and all the planets and comets, are retained in their orbits ? Have the moft eminent natural Philofophers been impofuig upon us, and giving us words in- flcad of real caufes ?
In anfwcr to this, I apprehend, that the principles of natural philofophy have, in modern times, been built upon a foundation that cannot be Ihaken, and that they can be culled in quertiou only by thofe who do not undcrftand the evidence on which they (land. But the ambiguity of the words caufe, agency^ aElivc power, and the other words related to thefe, has led many to un- derftand them, when ufed in natural philofuphy, in a wrong fenfe, and in a fcnfe which is neither ncccflary for eftablifliing
F the
42 E S S A Y 1.
CHAP. VI. the true principles of natural phllofophy, nor was ever meant by the mofl enlightened in that fcience.
To be convinced of this, we may obferve, that thofe very Phi- lofophers who attribute to matter the power of gravitation, and other active powers, teach us, at the fame time, that matter is a fubftance altogether inert, and merely paffive ; that gravitation, and the other attra6live or repulfive powers which they afcribe to it, are not inherent in its nature, but imprefled upon it by fome external caufe, which they do not pretend to know, or to explain. Now, when we find wife men afcribing action and ac- tive power to a fubftance which they exprefsly teach us to con- fider as merely paflive and afted upon by fome unknown caufe, we muft conclude, that the adtion and adive power afcribed to it are not to be underftood ftridily, but in fome popular fenfe.
It ought llkewife to be obfei'ved, that although Philofophers, for the fake of being underftood, muft fpeak the language of the vulgar, as when they fay, the fun rifes and fets, and goes through all the figns of the zodiac, yet they often think diffe- rently from the vulgar. Let us hear what the greateft of natu- ral Philofophers fays, ia the 8th definition prefixed to his Pr'inci- pia, " Voces autem attradionis, impulfus, vel propenfionis cu- '• jufcunque in centrum, indifferenter et pro fe mutuo promlfcue " ufurpo ; has voces non phyfice fed mathematice confixlerando. " Unde caveat ledtor, ne per hujus modi voces cogitet me fpe- " ciem vel modum adtionis, caufamve aut rationem j^yficam, " alicubi definire ; vel centris (quae funt punda mathematica) " vires vere et phyfice tribuere, fi forte centra trahere, aut vires " centrorum eft'e, dixero."
In all languages, adion is attributed to many things which all men of common underftanding believe to be merely paflive j thus we fay, the wind blows, the rivers flow, the fea rages, the fire burns, bodies move, and impel other bodies.
Every
OF THE PHENOMENA OF NATURE. 43
Every objedl which undergoes any change, mufl be either ac- CHAP, vr. tive or palTive in that change. This is felf-evident to all men from the firrt dawn of reafon ; and therefore the change is al- ways exprefTed in language, either by an active or a pallive verb. Nor do I know any verb, exprelFive of a change, which does not imply either a<flion or palllon. The thing either changes, or it is changed. But it is remarkable in language, that when an external caufe of the change is not obvious, the change is al- ways imputed to the thing changed, as if it were animated, and had adlive power to produce the change in itfelf. So we fav, the moon clianges, the fun rifes and goes down.
Thus acllve verbs arc very often applied, and adlive power imputed to things, which a little advance in knowledge and ex- perience teaches us to be merely pailive. This proj^erty, com- ' mon to all languages, I endeavoured to account for in the fe- cond chapter of this Eflay, to which the reader is referred.
A like irregularity may be obferved in the ufe of the word figmfying can/e, in all languages, and of the words related to it.
Our knowledge of caufes is very fcanty In the moft advanced ftate of fociety, much more is it fo in that early period in which language is formed. A ftrong defire to know the caufes of things, is common to all men in every Hate ; but the experience of all ages fhews, that this keen appetite, rather than go empty, will feed upon the hulks of real knowledge where the fruit can- not be found.
While we are very much in the dark with regard to the real agents or caufes which produce the phxnomena of nature, and have, at the fame time, an avidity to know them, ingenious men frame conjcdures, which thofe of weaker underflanding take for truth. The fare is coarfe, but appetite makes it go down.
F 2 Thus.
'44
ESSAY I.
V.
CHAP. VI. Thus, In a very ancient fyftem, love and ftrife were made the caufes of things. Plato made the caufes of tilings to be mat- ter, ideas, and an efEcient archited. Aristotle, matter, form, and privation. Des Cartes thought matter, and a certain quan- tity of motion given it by the Almighty at firft, to be all that is neceffiu-y to make the material world. Leibnitz conceived the whole univerfe, even the material part of it, to be made up of monodes, each of which is active and intelligent, and produces in itfelf, by its own active power, all the changes it undergoes frpm the beginning of its exiftence to eternity.
In common language, we give the name of a caufe to a reafon, a motive, an end, to any circumflance which is connedled with the efFed, and goes before it.
Aristotle, and the fchoolmen after him, diftinguiflied four kinds of caufes, the efficient, the material, the formal, and the final. This, like many of Aristotle's diftindlions, is only a di- ftindion of the various meanings of an ambiguous word j for the efficient, the matter, the form and the end, have nothing common in their nature, by which they may be accounted fpe- cies of the fame genus; but the Greek word which Ve tranflate cavfe, had thefe four different meanings in Aristotle's days, and we have added other meanings. We do not indeed call the matter or the fonn of a thing its caufe ; but we have final caufes, inflrumental caufes, occafional caufes, and 1 know not how many others.
Thus the word caufe has been fo hackneyed, and made to hare lb many different meanings in the writings of Philofophers, and in the difcourfe of the vulgar, that its original and proper mean- ina; is loft in the crowd.
With regard to the pha:nomena of nature, the important end of knowing their caufes, befides gratifying our curiofity, is,
that
OF THE PHiENOMENA OF NATURE. 45
ihat wc may know when to expedl them, or how to bring them CHAP. VI. ubout. This is very often of real importance in life; and tliis jnirpofe is fcrved, by knowing what, by the coiirfe of nature, goes before tlicm and is connedled with them ; and this, there- fore, we call the cau/c of fuch a phxnonienon.
If a magnet be brought near to a mariner's compafs, the needle, which was before at reft, immediately begins to move, and bends its courfe towards the magnet, or perhaps the contrary way. If an imlearned failor is afked the caufe of this motion of the needle, he is at no lofs for an anfwer. He tells you it is the magnet j and the proof is clear ', for, remove the magnet, and the elTed ccafes ; bring it near, and the cffed: is again pro- duced. It is, therefore, evident to fenfe, that die magnet is the caufe of this effect.
A Cartefian Philofopher enteVs deeper into the caufe of this phasnomenon. He obferves, that the magnet does not touch the needle, and therefore can give it no impulfe. He pities the ig- norance of the failor. The effect is produced, fays he, by mag- netic clTluvia, or fubtile matter, which paflcs from the magiiet to the needle, and forces it from its place. He can even fliew you, in a figure, where thefe magnetic effluvia iflue from the magnet, what round they take, and what way they return home again. And thus he thinks he comprehends perfedly how, and by what caufe, the motion of the needle is produced.
A Newtonian Philofopher enquires what proof can be offered for the exiftcnce of magnetic effluvia, and can find none. He therefore holds it as a fidion, a hypothefis ; and he has learned that hypothefes ought to have no place in the pliilofophy of na- ture. He confelles his ignorance of the real caufe of this motion, and thinks, that his bullnefs, as a Philofopher, is onlv to find from experiment the laws by which it is regulated in aP cafes.
Thefe
-46 E S S A Y I.
CHAP. VI. Thefe three perfons difFer much in their fentiments with re- gard to the real caufe of this phaenomenon ; and the man who knows moft is he who is fenfible that he knows nothing of the matter. Yet all the three fpeak the fame language, and acknow- ledge, that the caufe of this motion is the attradive or repulfive power of the magnet.
What has been faid of this, may be applied to every phaeno- menon that falls within the compafs of natural philofophy. We deceive ourfelves, if we conceive, that we can point out the real efficient caufe of any one of them.
The grandefl difcovery ever made in natural philofophy, was that of the law of gravitation, which opens fuch a view of our planetary fyftem, that it looks like fomething divine. But the author of this difcovery was perfectly aware, that he difcovered no real caufe, but only the law or rule, according to which the unknown caufe operates.
Natural Philofophers, w^io think accurately, have a precife meaning to the terms they ufe in the fcience ; and when they pretend to fhew the caufe of any phaenomenon of nature, they mean by the caufe, a law of nature of which that phaenomenon is a necelFary confequence.
The whole objed of natural philofophy, as Newton exprefsly teaches, is reducible to thefe two heads j firft, by jufl: indudion from experiment and obfervation, to difcover the laws of nature, and then to apply thofe laws to the folution of the phenomena of nature. This was all that this great Philofopher attempted, and all that he thought attainable. And this indeed he attained in a great meafure, with regard to the motions of our planetary fyllem, and with regard to the rays of light.
But fuppofing that all the phsenomena that fall within the
reach
OF THE PIIiENOMENA OF NATURE. 47
reach of our fcnfcs, were accoiintccl for from general laws of na- CiiAP. vi. ture, jiiflly deduced from experience ; that is, fuppofmg natu- ral philofophy brought: to its utmoft perfedion, it does not dif- cover the efficient caufe of any one phaenomenon in nature.
The laws of nature are the rules according to which the ef- fe£ls are produced ; but there muft be a caufe which operates according to thefe rules. The rules of navigation never navi- gated a fliip. The rules of architedure never built a houfe.
Natural philofophers, by great attention to the courfe of na- ture, have difcovered many of her laws, and have very happily applied them to account for many phasnomena ; but they have never difcovered the efFicient caufe of any one phenomenon ; nor do thofe who have diltinct notions of the principles of the fcience, make any fuch pretence.
Upon the theatre ofnature we lee Innumerable effects, which-' require an agent endowed with active 'power j but the agent is behind the fcene. Whether it be the Supreme Caufe alone, or a fubordinate caufe or caufes ; and if fubordinate caufes be em- ployed by the Almighty, what their nature, their number, and ■ their different offices may be, are things hid, for wife reafous without doubt, from the human eye.
It is only in human adions, that may be imputed for praife or blame, that it is neceflfary for us to know who is the agent ; and in this, nature has given us all the light that is necefTary for our condutl.
CHAP.
ESSAY I.
CHAP. VII.
Of the Extent of Human Power.
EVERY thing laudable and praife-worthy in man, muft con- lift in the proper exercife of that power which is given him by his Maker. This is the talent which he is required to occupy, and of which he muft give an account to him who com- mitted it to his truft.
To fome perfons more power is given than to others ; and to the fame perfon more at one time and lefs at another. Its ex- iftence, its extent, and its continuance, depend folely upon the pleafure of the Almighty j but every man that is accountable muft have more or lefs of it. For, to call a perfon to account, to approve or difapprove of his condudt, who had no power to do good or ill, is abfurd. No axiom of Euclid appears more evi- dent than this.
As power is a valuable gift, to under-rate it is ingratitude to the giver ; to over-rate it, begets pride and prefumption, and leads to unfuccefsful attempts. It is therefore, in every man, a point of wifdom to make a juft eftimate of his own power. ^Idferre recufent, quid valeant humeri.
We can only fpeak of the power of man in general ; and as our notion of power is relative to its effedis, we can eftimate its extent only by the effects which it is able to produce.
It would be wrong to eftimate the extent of human power by the effedls which it has adlually produced. For every man had power to do many things which he did not, and not to do many
things
OF THE EXTENT OF HUMAN POWER.
49
things wliich he did ; othcrwife he could not be an ohiecft either CHAP. V'ir. of approbation or of difapprobation, to any rational being.
The efleds of human power are either immediate, or they are more remote.
The immediate eficcfts, I think, are reducible to two heads. We can give certain motions to our own bodies ; and we can give a certain direction to our own thoughts.
Whatever we can do beyond this, muft be done by one of thefe means, or both.
We can 'produce no motion in any body in the univerfe, but by moving firft our own body as an inftrument. Nor can we produce thought in any other perfon, but by thought and mo- tion in ourfelves.
Our power to move our own body, is not only limited in its extent, but in its nature is fubjed to mechanical laws. It may be compared to a fpring endowed with the power of contra<5ling or expanding itfelf, but which cannot contradl without drawing equally at both ends, nor expand without pufhing equally at both ends ; fo that every adion of the fpring is always accompanied with an equal readtion in a contrary diretflion.
We can conceive a man to have power to move his whole bo- dy in any diredtion, without the aid of any other body, or a power to move one part of his body without the aid of any other part. But philofophy teaches us that man has no fuch power.
If he carries his whole body in any direction with a certain quantity of motion, this he can do only by pufliing the earth, or fome other body, with an equal quantity of motion in the con-
G trary
^o E S S A Y I.
CHAP. VI!. trary direaion. If he but ftretch out his arm in one diredion, * — " ' the reft of his body is pufhed with an equal quantity of mo- tion in the contrary diredlion.
This is the cafe with regard to all animal and voluntary mo- tions, which come within the reach of our fenfes. They are perfonned by the contraction of certain mufcles ; and a mufcle, when it is contracted, draws equally at both ends. As to the motions antecedent to the contra6tion of the mufcle, and confe- quent upon the volition of the animal, we know nothing, and can fay nothing about them.
We know not even how thofe immediate effedls of our power are produced by our willing them. We perceive not any necef- fary connedion between the volition and exertion on our part, and the m.otion of our body that follows them.
Anatomifts inform us, that every voluntary motion of the body is performed by tlae contradlion of certain mufcles, and that the mufcles are contraded by fome influence derived from the nerves. But, without thinking in the leaft, either of muf- cles or nerves, we will only the external efTedl, and the inter- nal machinery, without our call, immediately produces that effed.
This is one of the wonders of our frame, which we have rea- fon to admire ; but to account for it, is beyond the reach of our underflanding.
That there is an eftabliflied hannony between our willing cer- tain motions of our bodies, and the operation of the nerves and mufcles which produces thofe motions, is a fad known by expe- rience. This volition is an ad of th^ mind. But whether this ad of the~TTuii^~Tiave^~any phyfical effed upon the nerves and mufcles 5 or whether it be only an occafion of their being aded
upon
OF THE EXTENT OF HUMAN POWER. ^r
upon by fome other efficient, accordinc^ to the eftublifhed laws CITAP. viL of nature, is hid froin us. So dark is our conception of our own power when wc trace it to its origin.
We have good rcafon to believe, that matter had its origin from mind, as well as all its motions ; but how, or in what man- ner, ic is moved by mind, we know as little as how it was created.
It is pofTible therefore, for any thing we know, that what we call the immediate effeds of our power, may not be fo in the Uridcrt fenfe. Between the will to produce the efl'edt, and the produdion of it, there may be agents or inftruments of which we are ignorant.
This may leave fome doubt, whether wc be in the flridteft fenfe, the efficient caufe of the voluntary motions of our own body. But it can produce no doubt with regard to the moral cftimation of our adions.
The man who knows that fuch an event depends upon his will, and who deliberately wills to produce it, is, in the ftridefl moral fenfe, the caufe of the event; and it is juftly imputed to him, whatever phyfical caufes may have concurred in its pro- duction.
Thus, he who malicioufly intends to Hioot his neighbour dead, and voluntarily does it, is undoubtedly the caufe of his death, though he did no more to occafion it than draw the trigger of the gim. He neither gave to the ball its velocity, nor to the powder its expanfive force, nor to the flint and fteel the power to ftrike fire ; but he knew that what he did muff be followed by the man's death, and did it with that intention; and therefore he is juftly chargeable with the murder.
Philofophers may therefore difputc innocently, whether we
G 2 ' be
5a
ESSAY I.
CHAP. vn. be the proper efficient caufes of the voluntary motions of our own body J or whether we be only, as Malebranche thmks, the occafional caufes. The determination of this queftion, if it can be determined, can have no efFed on human condudt.
The other branch of what is immediately in our power, is to give a certain dlr^dion to our own thoughts. This, as well as the firft branch, is limited in various ways. It is greater in fome perfons than in others, and in the fame perfon is very different, accord- ing to the health of his body, and the ftate of his mind. But that men, when free from difeafe of body and of mind, have a confiderable degree of power of this kind, and that it may be greatly increafed by pradice and habit, is fufficiently evident- from experience, and from the natural convidion of all man- kind.
Were we to examine minutely into the connedion between, our volitions, and the diredion of our thoughts which obeys, thefe volitions ; were we to confider how we are able to give attention to an objed for a certain time, and turn our attention to another when we chufe, we might perhaps find it difficult tO' determine, whether the mind itfelf be the fole efficient caufe of- the voluntary changes in the diredion of our thoughts, or whe- ther it requires the aid of other efficient caufes.
I fee no good reafon why the difpute about efficient and oc- cafional caufes, may not be applied to the power of direding- our thoughts, as well as to the power of moving our bodies. In both cafes, I apprehend the difpute is endlefs, and, if it could be: brought to an ilTue, would be fruitlefs.
Nothing appears more evident to our reafon, than that there- mull be an efficient caufe of every change that happens in na- ture. But when I attempt to comprehend the manner in which an efficient caufe operates, either upon body or upon mind,
there
OF THE EXTENT OF HUMAN POWER. S3
there Is a darknefs which my faculties arc not able to pene- chap^vi'. tratc.
However finall the immediate effefts of human power feem to be, its more remote effcdls are very confiderablc.
In this refpedl, the power of man may be compared to the Nile, the Ganges, and other great rivers, which make a figure upon the globe of the earth, and, travcrfing vafl; regions, bring fomctimes great benefit, at other times great mifchief to many, nations ; yet, when we trace tliofc rivers to their fource, we fmd them to rife from inconfiderable fountains and rills.
The command of a mighty prince, what is it, but the found of his breatli, modified by his organs of fpeech ? But it may have great confequences; it may raife armies, equip fleets, and fpread war and defolation over a great part of the earth.
The meaneft of mankind has confiderablc power to do good, and more to hurt himfelf and others.
From this I think we may conclude, that, although the dege- neracy of mankind be great, and juftly to be lamented, yet men, in general, are more difpofed to employ their power in doing good, than in doing hurt to their fellow-men. The lafl is much more in their power than tlic firft ; and, if they were as much difpofed to it, human fociety could not fubfift, and the fpecies mud foon perifli from the eaith.
We may firll confider the efTecls which may be produced by human power upon the material fyflem.
It is confined indeed to the planet which we inhabit ; we can- not remove to another j nor can we produce any change in the annual or diunial motions of our own.
But,
54
ESSAY I.
CHAP. vli. gut:^ by human power, great changes may be made upon tlie face of the earth ; and thofe treafures of metals and minerals that are florcd up in its bowels, may be difcovered and brought forth.
The Supreme Being could, no doubt, have made the earth to fiipply the wants of man, without any cultivation by human la- bour. Many inferior animals, who neither plant, nor fow, nor fpin, are provided for by the bounty of Heaven. But this is not the cafe with man.
He has adive powers and ingenuity given him, by which he can do much for fupplying his wants ', and his labour is made ne- cellary for that purpofe.
His wants are more than thofe of any other animal that inha- bits this globe ; and his refources are proportioned to them, and put within the fphere of his power.
The earth Is left by nature in fuch a flate as to require culti- vation for the accommodation of man.
It is capable of cultivation, in moft places, to fuch a degree, that, by human labour, it may afford fubfiftence to an hundred times the number of men it could in its natural ftate.
Every tribe of men, in evei'y climate, muft labour for their fubfiftence and accommodation ; and their fupply is more or lefs comfortable, in proportion to the labour properly employed for that purpofe.
It is evidently the intention of Nature, that man fliould be la- borious, and that he fhould exert his powers of body and mind for his own, and for the common good. And, by his power properly applied, he may make great improvement upon the fer- tility
OF THE EXTENT OF HUMAN POWER. 55
tllity of the earth, and a great addition to his o-Mvn accommoda- cha?. vir. tion and comfortable ftate.
By clearing, tilling and manuring tlic ground, by planting and fowing, by building cities and harbours, draining marfhes and lakes, making rivers navigable, and joining them by canals, by manufaduring the rude materials which the earth, duly culti- vated, produces in abundance, by the mutual exchange of com- modities and of labour, he may make the bai'ren wildernefs the habitation of rich and populous ftates.
If \vc compare the city of Venice, the province of Holland, the empire of China, with thofe places of the earth which ne- ver felt the hand of induflry, we may form foinc conception of the extent of human power upon the material fyftcm, in changing the face of the eartli, and furnilhing the accommoda- tions of human life.
But, in order to produce thofe happy changes, man himfclf inuft be improved.
His animal faculties are fufiicient for the prcfervation of the fj)ecies ; they grow up of themfelves, like the trees of the foreft, which require only the force of nature and the influences of Heaven.
His rational and moral faculties, like the earth itfelf, arc rude and barren by nature, but capable of a high degree of culture ; ami this culture he muft receive from parents, from inflru<ftors, from thofe with whom he lives in fociety, joined with his own indurtry.
If wc confider the changes that may be produced by man upon his own mind, and upon the minds of others, they appear to be great.
Upon
56 E S S A Y I.
CHAP.viT. Upon his ovm mind he may make great improvement, In ac- quiring the treafures of ufeful knowledge, the habits of flcill in arts, the habits of wifdom, prudence, felf-command, and every other virtue. It is the conftitution of nature, that fuch qualities as exalt and dignify human nature are to be acquired by proper exertions ; and, by a contrary condud, fuch qualities as debafe it below the condition of brutes.
Even upon the minds of others, great efFed:s may be produced by means within the compafs of human power ; by means of good education, of proper inflrudlion, of perfuafion, of good example, and by the difcipline of laws and government.
That thefe have often had great and good effeds on the civili- zation and improvement of individuals, and of nations, cannot be doubted. But what happy efFeds they might have, if applied univerfally with the fkill and addrefs that is within the reach of human wifdom and power, is not eafily conceived, or to what pitch the happinefs of human fociety, and the improvement of the fpecies, might be carried.
What a noble, what a divine employment of human power is here afligned us ? How ought it to roufe the ambition of pa- rents, of inftrudtors, of lawgivers, of magiftrates, of every man in his ftation, to contribute his part towards the accomplifhment of fo glorious an end ?
The power of man over his own and other minds, when we trace it to its origin, is involved in darknefs, no lefs than his power to move his own and other bodies.
How far we are properly efficient caufes, how far occafional ■caufes, I cannot pretend to determine.
We know that habit produces great changes in the mind 5 but
how
OF TUT. EXTENT OF HUMAN POWER. 57
how it docs fo, v,c know not. ^Vc know, that example has a CHAP. vir» powerful, anil, in the early period of life, ahnofl: an irrtfiftihle elYcti ; but we know not how it produces this elTcdl. The com- munication of thonj^ht, fcntiment and palllon, from one mind to another, has foraethinj^ in it as myfterious as the communication of motion from one body to another.
We perceive one event to follow another, according to efta- blillied laws of nature, and we are accuftomed to call the firil the caufe, and the lafl the effect, without knowing what is the bond that unites them. In order to produce a certain event, we ufe means which, by laws of nature, are connedcd with that event ; and we call ourfelves the caufe of that event, though other eilicient caufes may have had the chief hand in its pro- dudion.
Upon the whole, human power, in its exigence, in Its extent, and in its exertions, is entirely dependent upon God, and upon the laws of nature which he has eftabliilied. This ought to banilh pride and arrogance from the moft mighty of the fons of men. At the fame time, that degree of power which we have received from the bounty of Heaven, is one of the noblefl; gifts of God to man ; of which we ought not to be infenfible, that we may not be ungrateful, and that we may be excited to make the proper ufe of it.
The extent of human power is pcrfei^ly fm'ted to the ftate of man, as a (late of improvement and difcipline. It is fufPicient to animate us to the noblefl exertions. By the proper exercifc of this gift of God, human nature, in individuals and in Ibcicties, may be exalted to a high degree of dignity and felicity, and the earth become a paradifc. On the contrary, its perverfion and nbufe is the caufe of moft of the evils that afHi<5t human life.
H ESSAY
ESSAY ir.
OF THE WILL.
CHAP. I.
Obfcrvai'iom concerning the WilL
EVERY man is confcious of a power to determine, in things whicli he conceives to depend upon his determination. To this power we give the name of w/V/y and, as it is ufual, in the operations of the mind, to give tlie fame name to the power and to the ad of that power, the term iv'tll is often put to figni- fy the adt of determining, which more properly is called voli- tion.
Volition, tliereforc, fignifies the acft of willing and determin- ing, and will is put indifferently to lignify cither the power of willing or the ad.
But the term leill has ^'ery often, efpccially In the writings of Philofophers, a more e.xtenfive meaning, which we muft careful- ly dirtinguifla from that which we have. now given.
In the general divifion of our faculties into underflandhig and will, our pafllons, appetites and affedions arc comprehended under the will ; and lb it is m.ade to figiiify, not only our de- termination to ad or not to ad, but cverv motive :'.nd incite- ment to ndion.
H 2 It
^0 £ S S A Y IT.
CHAP. J. It Is this, probably, that has led fome Philofophers to reprefent defire, averfion, hope, fear, joy, forrow, all our appetites, paf- fions and alTedions, as different modifications of the will, which, I think, tends to confound things which are very different in their nature.
The advice given to a man, and his determination cohfequent to that advice, are things fo different in their nature, that it would be improper to call them modifications of one and the fame thing. In like manner, the motives to adion, and the de- termination to ad or not to ad, are things that have no com- mon nature, and therefore ought not to be confounded under one name, or reprefented as different modifications of the fame thing.
For this reafon, in fpeaking of the will in this Effay, I do not comprehend under that term any of the incitements or motives which may have an influence upon our determinations, but fole- ly the determination itfelf, and the power to determine.
Mr Locke has confidered this operation of the mind more at- tentively, and diftinguifhed it more accurately, than fome very ingenious authors w^ho wrote after him.
He defines volition to be, " An ad of the mind knowingly " exerting that dominion it takes Itfelf to have over any part " of the man, by employing it in, or with-holding it from any " particular adion."
It may more briefly be defined. The determination of the mind to do, or not to do fomething which we conceive to be in our power.
If this were given as a flridly logical definition, It would be liable to this objedion, that the determination of the mind is
only
OBSERVATIONS CONCERNING THE WILL. 6r
CHily another term for volition. But it ought to be obferved, CIIAP. i. that the niort limple ads of the mind do not admit of a logical defniition. The way to form a clear notion of theni is, to re- fled attentively upon them as we feel them in ourfelves. With- out this relleclion, no definition can give us a diftintl conception of them.
For this rcafon, rather than fift any definition of the will, I fliall make fome obfervations upon it, whicli may lead us to re- fled upon it, and to dillinguilh it from other ads of mind, which, from the ambiguity of words, are apt to be confounded with it.
FirJ}, Every ad of will muft have an objed. He that wills muft will fomething; and that which he wills is called the ob- jcd of his volition. As a man cannot think without thinking of ibmething, nor remember without remembering fomething, fo neither can he will without willing fomething. Every ad of will, therefore, muft have an objcd ; and the perfon who wills muft have fome conception, more or lefs diftind, of what he wills.
By this, things done voluntarily arc diftingulflied from things done merely from inftind, or merely from habit.
A healthy child, fome hours after its birth, feels the fenfatioa of hunger, and, if applied to the breaft, fucks and fwallows Its food very perfedly. We have no reafon to think, that, be- fore it ever fucked, it has any conception of that complex opera- tion, or how it is performed. It cannot, therefore, with pro- priety, be faid, that it wills to fuck.
Numberlefs inftances might be given of things done by animals without any previous conception of what they are to do ; without the intention of doing it. They ad by fome inward blind iin-
pulfe.
^2 E S S A Y II.
CH-AP. I. pulfe, of which the efficient caufe is hid from us ; and though "^ ' there is an end evidently intended by the action, this intention
is not in the animal, but in its Maker.
Other things are done by habit, which cannot properly be called voluntary. We fhut our eyes feveral times every minute while we are awake 3 no man is confcious of willing this every time he does it.
A fecond obfcrvation is, That the immediate objed of will muft be fome adion of our own.
By this, will is diftinguiflied from two adls of the mind, which fometimes take its name, and thereby are apt to be con- founded with it p thefe are defire and command.
The diftindlion between will and defire has been well explain- ed by Mr Locke; yet many later writers have overlooked it, and have reprefented defire as a modification of will.
Defire and will agree in this, that both mufl have an objed, of which w^e mufi: have fome conception j and therefore both muflr be accompanied with fome degree of underftanding. But' they differ in feveral things.
The objed of defire may be any thing which appetite, pafilon or affedion, leads us' to purfue ; it may be any event which we think good for us, or for thofe to whom we are well affeded. 1 may defire meat, or drink, or eafe from pain : But to fay that I will meat, or will drink, or will eafe from pain, is not Englifh. . There is therefore a difiindion in common language between defire and will. And the dillindion is, That v/hat we willmufl be an adion, and our own adion ;, what we defire may not be our own adion, it may be no adion at all.
A
OBSERVATIONS CONTCERNING THE WILL. 63
A man tlellres that his children maybe happy, and tliat they CIIAP. i. may bcliavc well. Their being happy is no udion at all 3 their behaving well is not his adion but theirs.
With regard to our own adions, we may defire what we do not will, and will what we do not defire ^ nay, what we have a great avcrfion to.
A man a-thirfl has a (Irong defire to drink, but, for fome par- ticular reafon, he determines not to gratify his defire. A judge, from a regard to juftlce, and to the duty of his office, dooms a criminal to die, while, from humanity or particular affedion, he defires that he ihould live. A man for health may take a nau- feous draught, for which he has no defire but a great avcrfion. Defire therefore, even when its objed is fome action of our own, is only an incitement to will, but it is not volition. The deter- mination of the mind may be, not to do what we defire to do. But as defire is often accompanied by will, we are apt to over- look the diftindion between them.
The command of a perfon is fomctimes called his will, fome- timcs his defire ; but when thefe words are ufed properly, they fignify three dilTerent ads of the mind.
The immediate objed of will is fome adion of our own ; the objcd of a command is fome adion of another peribn, over whom we claim authority ^ the objed of defire may be no adion .at all.
In giving a command all thefe ads concur 3 and as they go together, it is not uncommon in language, to give to one the name which properly belongs to another.
A command being a voluntary adion, there muft be a will to
give
64 E S S A Y II.
CHAP, i.^ g|yg j-}jg command : Some defire is commonly the motive to that ad; of will, and the command is the effect of it.
Perhaps it may be thought that a command is only a defire exprefied by language, that the thing commanded fliould be done. But it is not fo. For a defire may be expreOed by language ■when there is no command j and there may poflibly be a com- mand without any defire that the thing commanded fliould be done. There have been inftances of tyrants who have laid grie- vous commands upon their fubjeds, in order to reap the penalty of their difobedience, or to fumifh a pretence for their puniih- ment.
We might farther obfer\^e, that a command is a fecial a(5t of the mind. It can have no exiftence but by a communication of thought to fome intelligent being ; and therefore implies a belief that there is fuch a being, and that we can communicate our thoughts to him.
Defire and will are folitary a6ls, which do not imply any fuch communication or belief.
"^ The immediate object of volition therefore, mufl be fome adlion, and our own action.
A third obfervation is. That the objed: of our volition mufl be fomething which we believe to be in our power, and to de- pend upon our will.
A man may defire to make a vifit to the moon, or to the planet Jupiter, but he cannot will or determine to do it ; becaufe he knows it is not in his power. If an infane perfon fhould make an attempt, his infanity muft firft make him believe it to be in his power.
A
OBSERVATIONS CONCERNING THE WILL. 65
A man In his flcep mny be ftrnck witli a pally, which deprives CHAP. I. hiin of tlie power of fpcech ; when he awakes, he attempts to f|K-ak, not knowing; that he has loft the power. }5ut when he knows by experience that the power is gone, he ceafes to make the effort.
The fame man, knowing that fome perfons have recovered the power of fijecch after they had loll it by a paralytica! ftroke, may now and then make an effort. In this effort, iiowever, there is not properly a will to fpcak, but a will to try whether he can fpeak or not.
In like manner, a man may exert his ftrength toraifc a weight which is too heavy for him. liut he always does this, either from the belief that he can raife the weight, or for a trial whe- ther he can or not. It is evident therefore, that what we will niuft be believed to be in our power, and to depend upon our will.
The next obfervation is, That when we will to do a thing im- mediately, the volition is accompanied with an eiforc to execute that which we willed, y
If a man wills to raife a great weight from the ground by the llrengih of his arm, he makes an eflfort for that purpofe propor- tioned to the weight he determines to raife. A great weight re- quires a great effort ; a fmall weight a Icfs effort. We fay in- deed, thjt to raife a very fmall body requires no effort at all. But this, I ai:)|)rehend, muft be underftood either as a figurative way of fpeaking, by which things very fmall are accounted as nothing; or it is owing to our giving no attention to very final! efforts, and therefore having no name for them.
Great efforts, wlicthcr of body or mind, arc attended with difficulty, and wlien long continued produce laflltude, which re-
I quires
66 E S S A Y II.
CHAP. I. quires that they fliould be intermitted. This leads us to refled " upon them and to give them a name. The name effort is com-
monly appropriated to them ; and thole that are made with eafe, and leave no fenfible efted, pafs without obfervation and with- out a name, though they be of the fame kind, and differ only in degree from thofe to which the name is given.
This effort we are confcious of, if we will but give attention to it ; and there is nothing in which we are in a more flrid fenfe adive.
The laji obfervation is. That in all determinations of the mind that are of any importance, there mufl be fomething in the pre- ceding flate of the mind that difpofes or inclines us to that de- termination.
If the mind were always in a flate of perfect indifference, without any incitement, motive, or reafon, to adt, or not to ad:, to ad one way rather than another, our adive power, having no end to purfue, no rule to dired its exertions, would be given in vain. We fliould either be altogether inadive, and never will to do any thing, or our volitions would be perfedly unmeaning and. futile, being neither wife nor foolilh, virtuous nor vicious.
We have reafon therefore to think, that to every being to whom God hath given any degree of adive power, he hath alfo given fome principles of adion, for the diredion of that power to the end for which it was intended.
It is evident that, in the conftitution of man, there are various principles of adion fuited to our flate and fituation. A particu- lar confideration of thefe is the iubjed of the next effay ; in this we are only to confider them in general, with a view to ex- amine the relation they bear to volition, and how it is influ- enced by them.
CHAP,
OBSERVATIONS CONCERNING THE WILL. 67
CHAT. II. ' .. '
C H A P. II.
Of the Influence of Incitements and Motives upon the Will.
WE come into the world ignorant of every thing, yet we muft do many things in order to our fubfirtence and well-being. A new-born child may be carried in arms, and kept warm by his nurfe \ but he muil fuck and fwallow his food for himfelf. And this muft be done before he has any concep- tion of fucking or fwallowing, or of the manner in which they are to be performed. He is led by nature to do thefe adions without knowing for what end, or what he is about. This we call tnftiuEl.
In many cafes there Is no time for voluntary determination. The motions muft; go on fo rapitlly, that the conception and vo- lition of every movement cannot keep pace with them. In fome cafes of this kind, inftind, iu others habit, comes in to our aid.
When a man ftumblcs and lofes his balance, the motion ne- ceftarv to prevent his fall would come too late, if it were the confcquence of thinking what is fit to be done, and making a voluntary efiort for that purpofe. He does this inftindively.
When a man beats a drum or plays a tune, he has not time to dired every particular beat or ftop, by a voluntary determina- tion ; but the habit which may be acquired by exercifc, anfwers the purpofe as well.
By inftind therefore, and by habit, we do many things with- out any exercife either of judgment or will.
In other adions the will Is exerted, but without judgment.
1 2 Suppofe
6a E S S A Y II.
CHAP. II. Suppofe a man to know that, in order to live, he mufl: eat. What (hall he eat ? How much ? And how often ? His reafon can anfwer none of thefe queftions j and therefore can give no diredion how he fhould determine. Here again nature, as an in- dulgent parent, fupplies the defedls of his reafon ; giving him ap- petite, which fhews him when he is to eat, how often, and how much J and tafle, which informs him what he is, and what he Is not to eat. And by thefe principles he is much better direded than he could be without them, by all the knowledge he can ac- quire.
As the Author of nature has given us fome principles of adlon- to fupply the defeds of our knowledge, he has given others to^ lupply the defeds of our wifdom and virtue..
The natural delires, affedions and paflions, which are common to the wife and to the foolifli, to the virtuous and to the vicious, and even to the more fagacious brutes, ferve very often to dired the courfe of human adions. By thefe principles men may perform the moft laborious duties of life, without any regard to duty 5 and do what is proper to be done, without regard to propriety ; like a veflel that is carried on In her proper courfe by a pro- fperous gale, without the (kill or judgment of thofe that are a- board.
Appetite, a(Iedion, or pallibn, give an Impulfe to a certain adion. In this impulfe there is no judgment implied. It may- be weak or ftrong; we can even conceive It Irrefiftible. In the cafe of madnefs it Is fo. Madmen have their appetites and paf^ lions y but they want the power of felf-government ; and there- fore we do not Impute their adions to the man but to the dif- eafe.
In adions that proceed from app*etlte or paffion, we are pa(^" iive In part, and only In part adive. They are therefore part-
INFLUENCE OF MOTIVES UPON THE WILL. ^9
ly imputed to the pafllon ; and If it is fnppofcd to be irrcfiftiblc, ^ wc do not impute them to the man at all.
Even an American favagc judg;es in this manner : When in a fit of drunkcnnefs he kills his friend : As foon as he comes to himfclf, he is very forry for what he has done j but pleads that drink, and not he, was the caufe.
We conceive brute-animals to have no fuperior principle to control their appetites and palllons. On this account, their ac- tions are not fubjedl to law. Men are in a like ftate in infancy, in madnefs, and in the delirium of a fever. They have appe- tites and palTlons, but they want that which makes them moral agents, accountable for their condu<fl, and objedts of moral ap- probation or of blame.
In fome cafes, a flronger Impulfe of appetite or pafllon may oppofe a weaker. Here alfo there may be determination and' adion without judgment.
Suppofe a foldier ordered to inount a breach, and cenain of prefent death if he retreats, this man needs not courage to go on, fear is fufficient. The certainty of prefent death if he retreats, is an overbalance to the probability of being killed if he goes on. Tlie man is pufhed by contrary forces, and it re- quires neither judgment nor exertion to yield to the ItrongelK
A hungry dog adts by the fame principle, if meat is fet before him, with a threatening to beat him if he touch it. Hunger pufties him forward, fear pufhes him back with more force, and the ftrongeft force prevails.
Thus we fee, that, in many even of our voluntary aclions, we may acl from the impulfe of appetite, affedion, or jnilion,
without
CHAP. ir.
70
ESSAY II.
CHAP. IL -without any exerclfe of judgment, and much in the fame man« ner as brute-animals feem to a.&..
Sometimes, however, there is a calm in the mind from the gales of pafllon or appetite, and the man is left to work his way, in the voyage of Life, without thofe impulfes which they give. Then he calmly weighs goods and evils, which are at too great a diftance to excite any pafllon. He judges what is befl; upon the whole, without feeling any bias drawing him to one fide. He judges for himfelf as he would do for another in his fituation ; and the determination is wholly imputable to the man, and not in any degree to his pafllon.
Every man come to years of underftanding, who has given any attention to his own condudt, and to that of others, has, in his mind, a fcale or meafure of goods and evils, more or lefs exadt. He makes an efl:imate of the value of health, of repu- tation, of riches, of pleafure, of virtue, of felf-approbation, and of the approbation of his Maker. Thefe things, and their con- traries, have a comparative importance in his cool and delibe- xate judgment.
When a man confiders whether health ought to be preferred •to bodily ftrength, fame to riches, whether a good confcience and the approbation of his Maker, to every thing that can come in competition with it ; this appears to me to be an exercife of judgment, and not any impulfe of pafllon or appetite.
Every thing worthy of purfuit, muft be fo, either intrinfically, and upon its own account, or as the means of procuring fomething that is intrinfically valuable. That it is by judgment that we difcern the fitnefs of means for attaining an end, is felf-evident ; and in this, I think, all Philofophers agree. But that it is the office of judgment to appreciate the value of an end, or the
preference
INFLUENCE OF MOTIVES UPON THE WILL. ^x
preference due to one end above another, is not granted by fome ^hap. ir.^ Philofophers.
In determining what is good or ill, and, of different goods, which is bcft, they think we muft be guided, not by judgment, but by fome natural or acquired tafte, which makes us rclilh one thing and diflike another.
Thus, if one man prefers cheefe to lobflers, anotlicr lobfters to cheefe, it is vain, fay they, to apply judgment to determine which is right. In like manner, if one man prefers pleafure to virtue, another virtue to pleafure, this is a matter of tafle, judg- ment has nothing to do in it. This feems to be the opinion of fome Fhilofophers.
I cannot help being of a contrary opinion. I think we may form a judgment, both in the queftion about cheefe and lobfters and in the more important queftion about pleafure and virtue.
When one man feels a more agreeable relifli in cheefe, ano- ther in lobfters, this, I grant, requires no judgment ; it de- pends only upon the conftitution of the palate. But, if we would determine which of the two has the befl tafte, I think the queftion muft be determined by judgment ; and that, with a fraall Ihare of this faculty, we may give a very certain determi- nation, to wit, that the two taftes are equally good, and that both of the perfons do equally well, in preferring what fuits their palate and their llomach.
Nay, I apprehend, that the two perfons who differ in their tafte will, notwithftanding that diftcrencc, agree perfedly in their judgment, that both taftes are upon a footing of equality, and that neither has a juft claim to preference.
Thus it appears, that, in this inftance, the office of tafle is
very
72 E S S A Y II.
CHAP. IL very different from that of judgment ; and that men, who differ moft in tafte, may agree perfectly in their judgment, even with refpedt to the taftes wherein they differ.
To make the other cafe parallel with this, it mufl be fup- pofed, that the man of pleafure and the man of virtue agree in, their judgment, and that neither fees any reafon to prefer the one courfe of life to the other.
If this be fuppofed, I fhall grant, that neither of thefe perfons has reafon to condemn the other. Each chufes according to his tafte, in matters which his befl judgment determines to be per- fectly indifferent.
But it is to be obferved, that this fuppofitlon cannot have place, when we fpeak of men, or indeed of moral agents. The man who is incapable of perceiving the obligation of virtue, when he ufes his beft judgment, is a man in name, but not in reality. He is incapable either of virtue or vice, and is not a moral agent.
Even the man of pleafure, when his judgment Is unblafled, fees, that there are certain things which a man ought not to do, though he ftiould have a tafte for them. If a thief breaks into his houfe and carries off his goods, he is perfedlly convinced that he did wrong and deferves punifhment, although he had as ftrong a relifli for the goods as he himfelf has for the pleafures he purfues.
It is evident, that mankind, in all ages, have conceived two parts in the human conftitution that may have influence upon our voluntary adions. Thefe we call by the general names of pajfion and reofon ; and we Ihall find, in all languages, names that are equivalent.
Under
INFLUEN'CE OF MOTIVES UPON THE WILL. 73
Under the former, we comprehend various principles of ac- CHAP. ir. lion, funihir to thofe we obfcrvc in brute-animals, and in men who have not the ufe of reafon. Appetites, offe&ious, pajjions^ are the names by which they are denominated ; and thcfe names are not fo accurately thftinguinied in common language, but that they are ufed fomewhat promifcuoufly. This, however, is common to them all, that they draw a man toward a certain objed, without any farther view, by a kind of violence ; a vio- lence which indeed may be refifted if the man is mailer of him- felf, but cannot be refifted without a ftruggle.
Cicero's phrafe for exprefling their influence is, " Horainem " hue et illuc rapiunt." Dr Hutcheson ufes a iimilar phrafe, " (^libus agitatur mens et brute quodam impetu fertur." There is no exercile of reafoa or judgment neceflary in order to feel their influence.
"With regard to this part of the human conftitutlon, I fee no difference between the vulgar and Philolbphers.
As to the other part of our conftltution, which is commonly called reafon, as oppofed to pafCon, there have been very fubtile difputes among modern Philolbphers, whether it ought to be called reafon, or be not rather fome internal fenfe or tafle.
"Whether it ought to be called reafon, or by what other name, I do not here enquire, but what kiud of influence it has upon our voluntary actions.
As to this point, I think, all men muft allow that this is the manly part of our conllitution, the other the brute part. This operates in a calm and difpafTionate manner ; a manner fo like to judgment or reafon, that even thofe who ilo not allow it to be called by that name, endeavour to account for its having al-
K ways
7+
ESSAY ir.
CHAT^iL ways had the namej becaufe, in the manner of its operation, it has a fimilitude to reafon.
As the fimilitude between this principle and reafon has led mankind to give it that name, fo the diflimilitude between it and paflion has led them to fet the two in oppofition. They have confidered this cool principle, as having an influence upon our adlions fo different from pailion, that what a man does cool- ly and deliberately, without paffion, is imputed folely to the man, whether it have merit or demerit ; whereas, what he does from paflion is imputed in part to the paflion. If the paflion be conceived to be irrefiftible, the adtion is imputed folely to it, and not at all to the man. If he had power to refift, and ought to have refifted, we blame him for not doing his duty j but, in proportion to the violence of the paflion, the fault is alleviated.
By this cool principle, we judge what ends are moft worthy to be purfued, how far every appetite and paflion may be in- dulged, and when it ought to be refifled.
It direds us, not only to refift the impulfe of paflion when it would lead us wrong, but to avoid the occafions of inflaming it ; like Cyrus, who refufed to fee the beautiful captive prin- cefs. In this he a6ted the part both of a wife and a good man j firm in the love of virtue, and, at the fame time, confcious of the weaknefs of human nature, and unwilling to put it to too fevere a trial. In this cafe, the youth of Cyrus, the incompara- ble beauty of his captive, and every circumftance which tended to inflame his defire, exalts the merit of his condudl in refifting it.
It is in fuch adlions that the fuperiority of human nature ap- pears, and the fpecific difference between it and that of brutes. lx\ them we may obferve one paflion combating another, and the flrongeft prevailing^ but we perceive no calm principle in their
conftitution,
INFLUENCE OF MOTIVES UPON THE WILL. 75
Gonftitution, thatis fuperior to every paflion, and able to give chaiml law to it.
The difference between thcfe two parts of our conftitution may be farther illurtratcd by an inflance or two wherein pailion prevails.
If a man, upon great provocation, flrike another when he ought to keep the peace, he blames himt'elf for what he did, and acknowledges that he ought not to have yielded to his paf- Gon. Every other pcrfon agrees with his fober judgment. They think he did wrong in yielding to his paflion, when he might and ought to have refifled its impulfe. If they thought it im- poffible to bear the provocation, they would not blame him at all ; but believing that it was in his power, and was his duty, they impute to him fome degree of blame, acknowledging, at the fame time, that it is alleviated in proportion to the provoca- tion ; Co that the trefpafs is imputed, partly to the man, and partly to the paffion. But, if a man deliberately conceives a defign of mifchief againft his neighbour, contrives the means, .ind executes it, the adion admits of no alleviation, it is perfedt- ly voluntary, ahd he bears the whole guilt of the evil in- tended and done.
If a man, by the agony of the rack, is made to difclofe a fe- cret of importance, with which he is entrulted, we pity him more than we blame him. We confider, that fuch is the wcak- nefs of human nature, that the refolutlon, even of a good man, might be overcome by fuch a trial. But if he have ftrength of mind, which even the agony of the rack could not fubduc, we admire his fortitude as truly heroical.
Thus, I think, it appears, that the common fenfe of men (which, in matters of common life, ought to have great authori- ty) has led them to diftinguilh two parts iu the huinuu conllitu-
K. 2 tion.
y6 E S S A Y II.
CHAP. 11. tion, which have nifluence upon our vokmtary determinations. There is an irrational part, common to us with brute-animals, confifling of appetites, affedions and pafTions, and there is a cool and rational part. The firft, in many cafes, gives a flrong impulfe, but without judgment, and without authority. The fe- cond is always accompanied with authority. All wifdom and virtue confill in following its did:ates ; all vice and folly in dlf- obeying them. We may refill the Impulfes of appetite and paf- fion,.not only without regret, but with lelf-applaufe and triumph; but the calls of reafon and duty can never be refifted, without remorfe and felf-conderanation.
The ancient Philofophers agreed with the vulgar, in making this diftinftion of the principles of acflion. The irrational part the Greeks called o^iJin. Cicero calls it appetUus, taking that word in an extenfive fenfe, fo as to include every propenfity to adtion which is not grounded on judgment.
The other principle the Greeks called ^cuf ; Plato calls It the iyr/xenxoi-, or leading principle. " Duplex en'im eft vis animorum at-^ " que natura^ fays Cicero, una pars in oppetitu pofita eji, qua ejl " Of;:**) Grace, qua hominem hue et illuc rapit; altera in ratione, qua " docet, et explanat, quid faciendum fugiendumvefitj ita Jit ut ratio " prafit appetitus obtemperet.''^
The reafon of explaining this dillindion here Is, that thefe two principles influence the will in diiferent ways. Their In- fluence differs, not in degree only, but in kind. This difference we feel, though it may be difKcult to find words to exprefs it. We may perhaps more eafily form a notion of it by a fimili- tude.
It Is one thing to pufh a man from one part of the room to> another ; it is a thing of a very different nature to ufe argu- ments to perluade him to leave his place, and go to another,.
He
INFLUENCE OF MOTIVES UPON THE WILL. 77
He may yield to the force which puHics him, without any exer- CHARir. cife of liis rational faculties ; nay, he mufl: yield to it, if he do not oppofe an equal or a greater force. His liberty is impaired in foinc degree ; and, if he has not power fuflicient to oppofe, his liberty is quite taken away, and the motion cannot be im- puted to him at all. The influence of appetite or pafllon feems to me to be very like to this. If the paflion be fuppofed irre- fiftiblc, we impute the adion to it fulely, and not to the man» If he had power to refill, but yields after a flruggle, we impute the adion, partly to the man, and partly to the paffion.
If we attend to the other caie, when the man is only urged by arguments to leave his place, this refembles the operation of the cool or rational principle. It is evident, that, whether he yields to the arguments or not, the determination is wholly his own ad, and is entirely to be imputed to him. Argimients, whatever be the degree of their ftrength, dimlnifh not a man's liberty ; they may produce a cool convidlion of what we ought to do, and they can do no more. But appetite and palllon give an impulfe to ad and impair liberty, in proportion to their Ilrength.
With mofl men, the Impulfe of paflion is more efiedual than bare convidion ; and, on this account, orators, who would per- fuade, find it necefiary to addrefs the paflions, as well as to con- vince the underftanding ; and, in all fyftcms of rhetoric, thefe two have been confidered as different intentions of the orator^ and to be accompliflied by different means.
C II A P.
78 E S S A Y II.
CHAP. in.
CHAP. III.
Of Operations of Mind ivhicb may be called Voluntary.
THE faculties of underftanding and will are eafi^y diflin- guifhed in thought, but very rarely, if ever, disjoined in operation.
In moft, perhaps in all the operations of mind for which we have names in language, both faculties are employed, and we are both intelle(5live and adtive.
Whether it be poffible that intelligence may exifl without fome degree of ad;ivity, or impoflible, is perhaps beyond the reach of our faculties to determine ; but, I apprehend, that, in fadl, they are always conjoined in the operations of our minds.
It is probable, I think, that there is fome degree of adlivity in thofe operations which we refer to the underflanding ; accor- dingly, they have always, and in all languages, been expreffed by adtive verbs ; as, I fee, I hear, I remember, I apprehend, I judge, I reafon. And it is certain, that every adl of will mufl be ac- companied by fome operation of the underflanding j for he that wills mufl apprehend what he wills, and apprehenfion belongs to the underflanding.
The operations I am to confider in this chapter, I think, have commonly been referred to the underflanding ; but we fhall find that the will has fo great a (hare in them, that they may, with propriety, be called voluntary. They are thefe three, attention^ deliberation, and fxed purpofe or refolution.
Attention may be given to any objedl, either of fenfe or of
intelledl.
OF VOL UNTARY OPERATIONS. 79
jntelleft, in order to form a diftind notion of it, or to difcover CHAP. III. its nature, its attributes, or its relations. And fo great is the cffcd of attention, that, without it, it is iinpofliblc to acquire or retain a dlllind: notion of any objed: of thought.
If a man hear a dilcourfe without attention, what does he car- ry away with him ? If he fee St Peter's or the Vatican without attention, What account can he give of it ? While two per- fons are engaged in interefting difcourfe, the clock {Irikes with- in their hearing, to which they give no attention, What is the confequence ? The next minute they know not whether the clock ftruck or not. Yet their ears were not fliut. The ufual imprellion was made upon the organ of hearing, and upon the auditory nerve and brain ; but from inattention the found either was not perceived, or pafled in the twinkling of an eye, without leaving the leaft veftige in the memory.
A man fees not what is before his eyes when his mind is oc- cupied about another objedl. In the tumult of a battle a man may be fliot through the body without knowing any thing of the matter, till he difcover it by the lofs of blood or of ftrcns-th.
'o*
The moft acute fenfation of pain may be deadened, if the at- tention can be vigoroufly direded to another objetfl. A gentle- man of my acquaintance, in the agony of a fit of the gout, ufed to call for the chefs-board. As he was fond of that game, he acknowledged that, as the game advanced and drew his at- tention, the fenfe of pain abated, and the time feemcd much fhorter.
Archimedes, it is faid, being intent upon a mathematical propofition, when Syracufe was taken by the Romans, knew not the calamity of the city, till a Roman foldier broke in upon his
retirement.
So E S S A Y II.
CHAP. Ill, retiremenf , and gave him a deadly wound ; on which he lament- ed only that he had loft a fine demonftration.
It is needlefs to multiply Inftances to fliew, that when one faculty of the mind is intenfely engaged about any objedl, the other faculties are laid as it were fafl: afleep.
It may be farther obferved, that if there be any thing that can he called genius in matters of mere judgment and reafoning, it feems to confifl chiefly in being able to give that attention to the fubjed which keeps it iteady in the mind, till we can furvey it accurately on all fides.
There is a talent of imagination, which bounds from earth
to heaven, and from heaven to earth in a moment. This may
be favourable to wit and imagery ; but the powers of judging
and reafoning depend chiefly upon keeping the mind to a clear
[ and fteady view of the fubjed.
Sir Isaac Newton, to one who complimented him upon the force of genius, which had made fuch improvements in mathe- matics and natural philofophy, is faid to have made this reply, which was both modefl: and judicious, That, if he had made any improvements in thofe fciences, it was owing more to patient at- tention than to any other talent.
Whatever be the effedls which attention may produce, ( and I apprehend they are far beyond what is commonly believed,} it is for the moft part in our power.
Every man knows that he can turn his attention to this fub- jedl or to that, for a longer or a fliorter time, and with more or lefs intenfenefs, as he pleafes. It is a voluntary ad:, and depends upon his will.
But what was before obferved of the will in general, is appli- cable
OF VOLUNTARY OPERATIONS. 8i
cable to this particular exertion of it, That the mind is rarely P^'^|';^"' ill a flate of indilTerence, left to turn its attention to the ob- jedt which to realbn appears moft deferving of it. There is, for the moft part, a bias to feme particular object, more than to any- other J and this not from any judi^ment of its deferving our attention more, but from foine impulfe or proptnfity, grounded on nature or habit.
It is well known that things new and uncommon, things grand, and things that are beautiful, draw our attention, not in proportion to the intereft we have, or think we have in them, but in a much greater proportion.
Whatever moves our paflions or affe(flions draws our atteu" tion, very often, more than we wifli.
You defire a man not to think of an unfortunate event which torments him. It admits of no remedy. The thought of it an- fwers no purpofe but to keep the wound bleeding. He is per- fedlly convinced of all you fay. He knows that he would not feel the afflidion, if he could only not think of it ; yet he hard- ly thinks of any thing elfe. Strange ! when happinefs and mi- fery ftand before him, and depend upon his choice, he chufes mifery, and reje<^s happinefs with his eyes open!
Yet he wifhes to be happy, as all m.cn do. How fliall we re- concile this contradiction between his judgment and his con- ducfl?
The account of it feems to me to be this : The afflicfling event draws his attention fo ftrongly, by a natural and blind force, that he either hath not the power, or hath not the vigour, of mind to refift its impulfe, though he knows that to yield to it is mifery, without any good to balance it.
L Acute
ESSAY II.
Acute bodily pain draws oar attention, and makes it very difficult to attend to any thing elfe, even when attention to the pain ferves no other purpofe but to aggravate it tenfold.
The man who played a game at chefs in the agony of the gout, to engage his attention to another objedl, aded the reafon- able part, and confulted his real happinefs ; but it required a great effort to give that attention to his game, which was necef- fary to produce the effed intended by it..
Even when there is no particular object that draws away our attention, there is a defultorinefs of thought in man, and in fome more than in others, which makes it very difficult to give that fixed attention to important objed:s which reafon requires.
It appears, I think, from what has been faid, that the atten- tion we give to objeds, is for the moft part voluntary : That a great part of wifdom and virtue confifls in giving a proper di-^ redlon to our attention j and that however reafonable this ap- pears to the judgment of every man, yet, in fome cafes, it re- quires an effort of felf-command no lefs than the mofl heroic virtues.
Another operation that may be called vduntary^ is delibera- tion about what we are to do or to forbear.
Every man knows that it Is In his power to deliberate or not to deliberate about any part of his conduft ; to deliberate for a Ihorter, or a longer time, more carelefsly, or more ferioully : And when he has reafon to fufpedt that his affedion may bias his judgment,, he may either honelily ufe the beft means in his power to form an impartial judgment, or he may yield to his bias, and only feek arguments to juftify what inclination leads him to do. In all thefe points, he determines, he wills, the right or the wrong.
The
OF VOLUNTARY OPERATIONS. 83
The general rules of deliberation arc perfectly evident to rca- chap, iir. fon when we conlidcr them abftradly. They are axioms ia morals.
Wc ought not to deliberate in cafes that are perfectly clean No man deliberates whether he ought to chufe happincfs or mi- fcry. No honeit man deliberates whether he fliall Ileal his neigh- bour's property. When the cafe is not clear, when it is of im- portance, and when there is time for deliberation, wc ought to deliberate with more or lefs care, In proportion to the Import- ance of the adlion. In deliberation we ought to weigh things in an even balance, and to allow to every confideration the weight which, in fober judgment, we think it ought to have, and no more. This is to deliberate impartially. Our deliberation fliould be brought to an IfTue in due time, fo that we may not lofe the opportunity of adling while we deliberate.
The axioms of Euclid do not appear to me to have a greater degree of felf-evidence, than thefe rules of deliberation. And as far as a man ads according to them, his heart approves of him, and he has confidence of the approbation of the Searcher of hearts.
But though the manner in which we ought to deliberate be evident to reafon, it Is not always eafy to follow it. Our appe- tites, our afiedions and paflions, oppofe all deliberation, but that which Is employed in finding the means of their gratification. Avarice may lead to deliberate upon the ways of making money, but it does not difiinguilh between the honeil and the dilhoneit.
We ought furely to deliberate how far every appetite and paf- fion may be indulged, and what limits fliould be fet to it. But our appetites and palfions pufh us on to the attainment of their objeds, in the fhortcft road, and without delay.
L 2 Tiuu
84 E S S A. Y II.
CHAP. III. Thus it happens, that, if we yield to their impulfe, we fliall often tranfgrefs thofe rules of deliberation, which reafon approves. In this conflia between the didlates of reafon, and the blind im- pulfe of pallion, we mufl voluntarily determine. When we take part with our reafon, though in oppofition to paflion, we ap- prove of our own condudl.
What we call a fault of ignorance, is always owing to the- want of due deliberation. When we do not take due pains to be rightly informed, there is a fault, not indeed in adiing ac- cording to the light we have, but in not uling the proper means to get light. For if we judge wrong, after uling the proper means of information, thei'e is no fault in ading according to that wrong judgment ; the error is invincible.
The natural confequence of deliberation on any part of our condud:, is a determination how we fhall ad 3 and if it is not brought to this ilTue it is loft labour.
There are two cafes in which a determination may take place ; when the opportunity of putting it in execution is prefent, and when it is at a diftance.
When the opportunity is prefent, the determination to ad is immediately followed by the adion. Thus, if a man determine to rife and walk, he immediately does it, unlefs he is hindered by force, or has loll the power of walking. And if he fit ftill when he has power to walk, we conclude infallibly that he has not determined, or willed to walk immediately.
Our determination or will to ad, is not always the refult of deliberation, it may be the effed of fome paffion or appetite, without any judgment interpofed. And when judgment is in- terpofed, we may determine and ad either according to that judgment or contrary to it.
When
OF VOLUNTARY OPERATIONS. ■ 9^
When a man fits down hungry to dine, he eats from appetite, C!i\P. iir. very often without exercifing his judgment at all ; nature in- vites and he obeys the call, as the ox, or the horfe, or as an in- fant does.
When we converfe with perfons whom we love or refpect, we fay and do civil things merely from affedion or from refpe(ft. They flow fpontancoufly from the heart, without requiring any judgment. In fuch cafes we adl as brute-animals do, or as child- ren before the ufe of reafon. We feel an impulfe in our na- ture, and we yield to it.
When a man eats merely from appetite, he does not confider the pleafure of eating, or its tendency to health. Thefe coiifi- derations are not in his thoughts. But we can fuppofe a man who eats with a view to enjoy the pleafure of eating. Such a nian reafons and judges. He will take care to ufe the proper means of procuring an appetite. He will be a critic in tafles, and make nice difcriminations. This man ufes his rational fa- culties even in eating. And however contemptible this applica- tion of them may be, it is an exercife of which, I apprehend, brute-animals are not capable.
In like manner, a man may fay or do civil things to another, not from affedtion, but in order to ferve fome end by it, or be- caufe he thinks it his duty.
To a(5l with a view to fome dillant interefl, or to act from a fenfe of duty, feems to be proper to man as a reafonable being ; but to a£l merely from pallion, from appetite, or from afleclion, is common to him with the brute-animals. In the lail cafe there is no judgment required, but in the firft there is.
To acft againft what one judges to be for his real good upon the whole, is folly. To act againft what he judges to be his du- ty,
S6 ESSAY II.
CHAP. Ill, ty^ ]g immorality. It cannot be denied that there are too many inftances of both in human Hfe. Video 7neliora proboque, deteriora feqttor, is neither an impoflible, nor an unfrequent cafe.
"While a man does what he really thinks wifefl and heft to be done, the more his appetites, his affeftions and paffions draw him the contrary way, the more he approves of his own con- dud, and the more he is entitled to the approbation of every rational being.
The ^/6/r<y operation of mind I mentioned, which may be cal- led voluntary, Is, A fixed purpofe or refolutlon with regard to our future condudt.
This naturally takes place, when any adllon, or courfe of ac- tion, about which we have deliberated, is not immediately to be executed, the occafion of adiing being at fome diflance.
A fixed purpofe to do, fome time hence, fomething which we believe fhall then be in our power, is ftrldly and properly a de- termination of will, no lefs than a determination to do it in- flantly. Every definition of volition agrees to it. Whether the opportunity of doing what we have determined to do be prefent or at fome diflance, is an accidental circumftance which does not affedl the nature of the determination, and no good reafon can be afligned why It fhould not be called volition in the one cafe, as well as in the other. A purpofe or refolutlon, therefore, is truly and properly an adl of will.
Our purpofes are of two kinds. We may call the one particu- lar, the other general. By a particular purpofe, I mean that which has for its objedl an individual adion, limited to one time and place ; by s. general \)nx\io(Q, that of a courfe or train of adion, intended for fome general end, or regulated by fome general rule.
Thus,
OF VOLUNTARY OPERATIONS. 87
Tlius, I may purpofe to go to London next winter. When p'^'"^''^'^; the time comes, 1 execute my purpofe, if I continue of the fame mind j and the purpofe, when executed, is no more. Thus it is with every particuhir purpofe.
A general purpofe may continue for life ; and, after many par- ticular adiions have been done in confcq^uence of it, may re- main and regulate future adions.
Thus, a young man propofes to follow the profefllon of law, of medicine, or of theology. This general purpofe diredls the courfe of his reading and lludy. It drredts him in the choice- of his company and companions, and even of his diverfions. It determines his travels and the place of his abode. It has in- fluence upon his drefs and manners, and a confiderable elTec^ in forming his charader.
There are other fixed purpofes which have a ftill greater ef- fe<ft in forming the charader. I mean fuch as regard our mo- ral conduct.
Suppofe a man to have exercifed his intelle»flual and moral faculties, fo far as to have dillind notions of juftice and inju- ftice, and of the confequences of both, and, after due delibera- tion, to have formed a fixed purpofe to adhere inflexibly to ju- nice, and never to handle the wages of iniquity.
Is not this the man whom we flaould call a juft man ? We confider the moral virtues as inherent in the mind of a good man, even when there is no opportunity of exercifing them. And what is it in the mind which we can call the virtue of ju- flice, when it is not exercifed ? It can be nothing but a fixed purpofe, or determination, to acft according to the rules of ju- ftice, when there is opportunity.
The
88
E S S A V IT.
CHAP. HI. The Roman law defined jufllce, A Jleady and perpetual will to (rive to every man his due. When the opportunity of doing juftice is not prefent, this can mean nothing ehe than a fteady parpofe, which is very properly called will. Such a purpofe, if it is ftea- dy, will infallibly produce jufl conduct ; for every known tranf- crellion of juftice demonftrates a change of purpofe, at leafl for that time.
What has been fald of juftice, may be fo eafily applied to every other moral virtue, that it is unneceflary to give inftances. They are all fixed purpofes of ading according to a certain rule.
By this, the virtues may be eafily diftinguiflied, in thought at leaft, from natural affedtions that bear the fame name. Thus, benevolence is a capital virtue, which, though not fo neceflliry to the being of fociety, is entitled to a higher degree of appro- bation than even juftice. But there is a natural affedtion of be- nevolence, common to good and bad men, to the virtuous and to the vicious. How fliall thefe be diftinguiflied ?
In practice, indeed, we cannot diftinguifli them in other men, and with difficulty in ourfelves ; but in theory, nothing is more eafy. The virtue of benevolence is a fixed purpofe or refolution to do good when we have opportunity, from a convidtion that it is right, and is our duty. The affedtion of benevolence is a propenfity to do good, from natural conftitution or habit, with- out regard to reditude or duty.
There are good tempers and bad, which are a part of the conftitution of the man, and ai'e really involuntary, though they often lead to voluntary adions. A good natural temper is not virtue, nor is a bad one vice. Hard would it be indeed to think, that a man fliould be born under a decree of reprobation, be- caufe he has the misfortune of a bad natural temper.
The
OF VOLUNTARY OPERATIONS. 89
The Phyfiog-nomifl; faw, in the features of Socrates, the f^g- chap. iir. natures of many bad difpofitlons, which that good man acknow- ledged he feh within him ; but the triumph of his virtue was the greater in having conquered them.
In men who have no fixed rules of condu(fl, no felf-govern- ment, the natural temper is variable by numberlefs accidents. The man who is full of affedion and benevolence this hour, when a crofs accident happens to ruffle him, or perhaps when an eafterly wind blows, feels a flrange revolution in his temper. The kind and benevolent affedlions give place to the jealous and malignant, which are as readily indulged in their turn, and for the fame reafon, becaufe he feels a propenfity to indulge them.
We may obferve, that men who have exercifed their rational powers, are generally governed in their opinions by fixed prin- ciples of belief; and men who have made the greateft advance m felf-government, are governed, in their pradlice, by general fixed purpofes. Without the former, there would be no fleadi- nefs and confiftence in our belief j nor without the latter, in our condud;.
When a man is come to years of underdanding, from his edu- cation, from his company, or from his ftudy, he forms to him- felf a fet of general principles, a creed, which governs his judg- ment in particular points that occur.
If new evidence is laid before him which tends to overthrow any of his received principles, it requires in him a great degree of candour and love of truth, to give it an impartial examination, and to form a new judgment. Moil men, when they are fixed in their principles, upon what they account fufficient evidence, can hardly be drawn into a new and ferious examination of them,
M They
90
ESSAY II.
CHAP. ]n. They get a habit of believing them, which Is flrengthened by repeated ads, and remains Immoveable, even when the evidence upon which their belief was at firfl grounded, is forgot.
It is this that makes converfions, either from religious or political principles, fo difficult.
A mere prejudice of education ftlcks faft, as a propofitlon of Euclid does with a man who hath long ago forgot the proof. Both Indeed are upon a fimllar footing. We reft in both, be- caufe we have long done fo, and think we received them at firll upon good evidence, though that evidence be quite forgot.
When we know a man*s principles, we judge by them, rather than by the degree of his underftanding, how he will determine in any point which is connedied with them.
Thus, the judgment of moft men who judge for themfelves Is governed by fixed principles ; and, I apprehend, that the con- dudl of moft men who have any felf-government, and any con- fiftency of conduct, Is governed by fixed purpofes.
A man of breeding may, m his natural temper, be proud, pat fionate, revengeful, and In his morals a very bad man ; yet, in good company, he can ftlfle every pafllon that is inconfiftent with good breeding, and be humane, modeft, complaifant, even to thofe whom In his heart he defpifes or hates. Why is this man, who can command all his pallions before company, a Have to them in private ? The reafon is plain : He has a fixed refolu- tion to be a man of breeding, but hath no fuch refolution to be a man of virtue. He hath combated his moft violent pafllons a thoufand times before he became mafter of them In company. The fame refolution and perfeverance would have given him the eGirunand of them when alone,
A
OF VOLUNTARY OPERATIONS. 91
A fixed rcfolution retains its influence upon the condu(fl, even CHAP. ii». \vhen the motives to it are not in view, in the fame manner as a fixed principle retains its influence upon the belief, when the evidence of it is forgot. The former may be called a habit of the w/7/, the latter a habit of the underjiandlng. By fuch habits chiefly, men are governed in their opinions and in their prac- tice.
A man who has no general fixed purpofes,may be fiiid, as Pope fays of moft: women, (I hope imjuftly) to have no charadler at all. He will be honefl; or diflionclt, benevolent or malicious, compaflionate or cruel, as the tide of his paflions and affections drives him. This, however, I believe, is the cafe of but a few in advanced life, and thefe, with regard to condud:, the wcakefl: and moft contemptible of the fpecies.
A man of fome conftancy may change his general purpofes once or twice in life, feldom more. From the purfuit of plea- fure in early life, he may change to that of ambition, and from ambition to avarice. But every man who ufes his reafon in the conduct of life, will have fome end, to which he gives a pre- ference above all others. To this he fteers his courfe ; his pro- je(fls and his actions will be regulated by it. Without this, there would be no confiftency in his condud;. He would be like a ftiip in the ocean, which is bound to no port, under no govern- ment, but left to the mercy of winds and tides.
We obferved before, that there are moral rules refpeding the attention we ought to give to objeds and refpeding our delibe- rations, which are no lefs evident than mathematical axioms. The fame thing may be obferved with refpedl to our fixed pur- pofes, whether particular or general.
Is it not felf-cvident, that, after due deliberation, we oughc to refolve upon that condud, or that courfe of condud, which,
JM 2 to
9*
ESSAY 11.
CHAP. IV. to our fober judgment, appears to be befl and mofl approvable ? That we ought to be firm and fteady in adhering to fuch refo- lutions, while we are perfuaded that they are right ; but open to conviction, and ready to change our courfe, when we have good evidence that it is wrong ?
Ficklenefs, inconftancy, facility, on the one band, wilfulnefs, inflexibility, and obllinacy, on the other, are moral qualities, refpedlng our purpofes, which every one fees to be wrong. A manly firmnefs, grounded upon rational convldlion, is the pro- per mean which every man approves and reveres.
CHAP. IV.
Corollaries.
FROM what has been faid concerning the will, it appears, frj, That, as fome ads of the will are tranfient and mo- mentary, fo others are permanent, and may continue for a long, time, or even through the whole courfe of our rational life.
When T will to ftretch out my hand, that will is at an end as- foon as the adion is done. It is an adt of the will which be- sfins and ends in a moment. But when I will to attend to a mathematical propofition, to examine the demonflratlon, and the confequences that may be drawn from it, this will may con- tinue for hours. It mufl continue as long as my attention con- tinues ; for no man attends to a mathematical propofitipn longer than he wills.
The fame thing may be faid of deliberation, with regard,, (either to any point of couuud:, or with regard to any general
courfe
COROLLARIES. ^
courfe of condud. We will to deliberate as long as. we do dc- CHAP. iv. liberate > and that may be for days or for weeks.
A purpofc or refolution, which we have fliewn to be an act of the will, may continue for a great part of life, or for the whole, after we are of age to form a refolution.
Thus, a merchant may refolve, that, after he has made fuch a fortune by traffic, he will give it up, and retire to a country life. He may continue this refolution for thirty or forty years, and execute it at laft ; but he continues it no longer than he wills, for he may at ^ny time change his refolution.
There are therefore a6ls of the will which are not tranfient and momentary, which may continue long, and grow into a habit. This deferves the more to be obiei-ved, becaufe a very eminent Philofopher has advanced a contrary principle, to wit. That all the ads of the will are tranfient and momentary ; and from that principle has drawn very important conclufions, with regard to what conftltutes the moral charader of man.
hfeconi corollary is. That nothing in a man, wherein the will is not concerned, can juftly be accounted either virtuous or im- moral.
That no blame can be imputed to a man for what is altoge- ther involuntary, is fo evident in itfelf, that no arguments can make it more evident. The pradice of all criminal courts, in all enlightened nations, is founded upon it.
If it fliould be thought an objedion to this maxim, that, by the laws of all nations, children often fuffer for the crimes of parents, in which they had no hand, the anfwer is eafy.
Yor,JirJ}, Such is the connedion between parents and children,
that
94 E S S A Y II.
CHAP. IV. that the punllhment of a parent miift hurt his children whether the law will or not. If a man is fined, or imprifoned ; If he lofes life, or limb, or eftate, or reputation, by the hand of juftice, his children fuffer by neceflary confequence. Secondly When laws intend to appoint any punidmient of innocent children for the father's crime, fuch laws are either unjuft, or they are to be confidered as adts of police, and not of jurifprudence, and are intended as an expedient to deter parents more effectually from the commlffion of the crime. The innocent children, in this cafe, are facrlficed to the public good, in like manner, as, to prevent the fpreading of the plague, the found are fliut up with the infeded in a houfe or fhip, that has the infed;ion.
By the law of England, if a man is killed by an ox goring him, or a cart running over him, though there be no fault or negledl in the owner, the ox or the cart is a deodand, and is confif- cated to the Church. The Legiflature furely did not intend to punifli 'the ox as a criminal, far lefs the cart. The intention evidently was, to inlplre the people with a facred regard to the life of man.
When the Parliament of Paris, with a fimilar intention, or- dained the houfe in which RavIUiac was born, to be razed to the ground, and never to be rebuilt, it would be great weaknefs to conclude, that the wife judlcatui'e intended to punlfh the houfe.
If any judicature fhould. In any inftance, find a man guilty, and an obje6l of punllhment, for what they allowed to be alto- gether involuntary, all the world would condemn them as men who knew nothing of the firft and mofl fundamental rules of jullice.
I have endeavoured to fliew, that, in our attention to objeds, in order to form a right judgment of them ; in our deliberation about particular adions, or about general rules of condud ; In
our
COROLLARIES.
95
our purpofcs and refolutions, as well as in the execution of them, chap. iv. the will has a j)rincii'al fliare. If any man could be found, who, in the whole courfc of his life, had given due attention to things that concern him, had deliberated duly and impartially about his coiidudl, had formed his refolutions, and executed them ac- cording to his befl: judgment and capacity, furely fuch a man might hold up his face before God and man, and plead inno- cence. He muft be acquitted by the impartial Judge, whatever his natural temper was, whatever his pallions and affedions, as far as they were involuntary.
A tlj'ird corollary is. That all virtuous habits, when we diftin- guilh them from virtuous actions, confift in fixed purpofes of adling according to the rules of virtue, as often as we have op- portunity.
We can conceive in a man a greater or a lefs degree of fleadi- nefs to his purpofes or refolutions ; but that the general tenor of his condutl: fhould be contrary to them, is impollible.
The man who has a determined refolution to do his duty in every inftance, and who adheres fteadily to his refolution, is a perfedl man. The man who has a determined purpofe of car- rying on a courfe of adlion which he knows to be wrong, is a. hardened offender. Between thefe extremes there are many in- termediate degrees of virtue and vice.
ESSAY
ESSAY JII.
OF THE PRINCIPLES OF ACTION.
PART I.
Of the Mechanical Principles of AEl'ion.
CHAP. I.
Of the Principles of AElion in general.
IN the ftrid phllofophical fenfe, nothing can be called the aftion of a man, but what he previoufly conceived and willed or de- termined to do. In morals we commonly employ the word in this fenfe, and never impute any thing to a man as his doing, in which his will was not interpofed. But when moral imputation is not concerned, we call many things adions of the man, which he neither previoufly conceived nor willed. Hence the adions of men have been diftinguilbed into three claffes, the voluntary, the involuntary, and the mixed. By the lafl: are meant fuch adions as are \mdcr the command of the will, but are commonly per- formed without any interpofition of will.
We cannot avoid ufing the word aElion in this popular fenfe, without deviating too much from the common ufe of language 5 and it is in this fenfe we ufe it when we enquire into the prin- ciples of adion in the human mind.
V>y principles of adion, I undcrftand every thing that incites us to ad.
N If
9« ESSAY III.
CHAP. I, If there were no incitements to adiion, adive power would be given us in vain. Having no motive to dired: our adlive ex- ertions, the mind would, in all cafes, be in a ftate of perfed in- difference, to do this or that, or nothing at all. The adive power would either not be exerted at all," or its exertions would be perfedly unmeaning and frivolous, neither wife nor foolifh, neither good nor bad. To every adion that is of the fmalleft importance, there muft be fome incitement, fome motive, fome reafon.
It is therefore a moft important part of the philofophy of the human mind, to have a diflind and juft view of the various prin- ciples of adion, which the Author of our being hath planted in our nature, to arrange them properly, and to affign to every one its rank.
By this it is, that we may difcover the end of our being, and the part which is affigned us upon the theatre of life. In this part of the human conllitution the noblefl work of God that falls within our notice, we may difcern moft clearly the cha- rader of him who made us, and how he would have us to em- ploy that adive power which he hath given us.
I cannot without great diffidence enter upon this fubjed, ob- ferving that almoft every author of reputation, who has given at:- tention to it, has a fyftem of his own ; and that no man has been fo happy as to give general fatisfadion to thofe who came after him.
There is a branch of knowledge much valued, and very juftly, which we call knowledge of the world, knowledge of mankind, knowledge of human nature : This, I think, confifts in knowing from what principles men generally ad ; and it is commonly the fruit of natural fagacity joined with experience.
A
OF THE PRINCIPLES OF ACTION. 99
A man of fagacity, who has had occafion to deal in mtercftlng chap, i. matters, with a great variety of perfons of diflcrent age, fcx, rank and profclTion, learns to judge what may be expeded from men in given circinnftances ; and how they may be mofl; efFec- tually induced to ad the part which he defircs. To know this is of fo great importance to men in adlive life, that it is called knowing men, and knowing human nature.
This knowledge may be of confiderable ufe to a man who would fpeculate upon the fubjedt we have propofed, but is not, by itfelf, futPicient for that purpofe.
The man of the world conjedlures, perhaps with great proba- bility, how a man will adl in certain given circumllances ; and this is all he wants to know. To enter into a detail of the va- rious principles which influence the adtions of men, to give them diftind names, to define them, and to afcertain their different provinces, is the bufmefs of a philofoplier, and not of a man of the world ; and, indeed, it is a matter attended with great diffi- culty from various caufes.
Firji, On account of the great number of adive principles that influence the adions of men.
Man has, not without reafon, been called an epitome of the univerfe. His body, by which his mind is greatly affeded, being a part of the material fyftem, is fubjed to all the laws of inani- mate matter. During fome part of his exiftence, his flate is very like that of a vegetable. He rifes, by imperceptible degrees, to the animal, and, at lafl, to the rational life, and has the prin- ciples that belong to all.
Another caufe of the difficulty of tracing the various principles of adion in man, is, That the fame adion, nay, the fame courfc and train of adiou may proceed from very different principles.
N a Men
loo ESSAY III.
CHAP. I. Men who are fond of a hypothefis, commonly feek no other proof of US truth, but that it ferves to account for the ap- pearances which it is brought to explain. This is a very flip- pery kind of proof in every part of philofophy, and never to be truiled ', but leafl of all, when the appearances to be accounted for are. human adtions.
Moft actions proceed from a variety of principles concurring in their diredlon ; and according as we are difpofed to judge favourably or unfavourably of the perfon, or of human nature in general, we impute them wholly to the befl, or wholly to the ■worft, overlooking others which had no fniall Ihare in them.
The principles from which men afb can be difcovered only in thefe two ways; by attention to the condud: of other men^ or by attention to our own condu<ft, and to what we feel in our- felves. There is much uncertainty in the former, and much difficulty in the latter.
Men differ much In their charad^ers ; and we can obferve the condudl of a few only of the fpecles. Men differ not only from other men, but from themfelves at different times, and on dif- ferent occalions ; according as they are in the company of their fuperiors, inferiors, or equals j according as they are in the eye of flrangers, or of their familiars only, or in the view of no hu- man eye j according as they are in good or bad fortune, or in good or bad humour. We fee but a fmall part of the adlions of our mofl familiar acquaintance ; and what we fee may lead us to a probable conjedture, but can give no certain knowledge of the principles from which they acl.
A man may, no doubt, know with certainty the principles from which he himfelf ad:s, becaufe he is confcious of them. But this knowledge requires an attentive refledlion upon the operations of his own mind, which is very rarely to be found.
It
OF THE PRINCIPLES OF ACTION. ici
It is perhaps more eafy to find a man who has formed a jufl notion CHAP. I. of the cliarader of man in general, or of thofc of his familiar acquaintance, than one who has a jufl notion of Ins own cha- racter.
Moll men, through pride and felf-flattery, are apt to think themfelves better than they really are ; and fome, perhaps from melancholy, or from falfe principles of religion, arc led to think themfelves worfe than they really are.
It requires, therefore, a very accurate and impartial examina- tion of a man's own heart, to be able to form a diftind notion of the various principles which influence his conduct:. That this is a matter of great difliculty, we may judge from the very different and contradidory fyftems of Philofophers upon this fubjedt, from the earliefl ages to this day.
During the age of Greek Philofophy, the Platonifl, the Peri- patetic, the Stoic, the Epicurean, had each his own fyftem. In the dark ages, the Schoolmen and the MylHcs had fyftems dia- metrically oppofite ; and, fince the revival of learning, no con- troverfy hath been more keenly agitated, efpecially among Bri- tifli Philofophers, than that about the principles of adion in the human conftitution-
They have determined, to the fatisfadion of the learned, the forces by which the planets and comets traverfe the boundlefs regions of fpace ; but have not been able to determine, with any degree of unanimity, the forces which every man is confcious of m himfelf, and by which his condud is directed.
Some admit no principle but felf-love ; others refolve all into love of the pleafures of fenfe, varioufly modified by the aflocia- tion of ideas ; others admit difinterefled benevolence along with feLf-love ; others reduce all to realon and pallion ; others to piC-
fion
JD2
ESSAY III.
CHAP.i. fion alone J nor is there lefs variety about the number and dif- tribution of the paffions.
The names we give to the various principles of adlion, have fo little precifion, even in the befl and pureft writers in every language, that, on this account, there is no fmall difEculty in giving them names, and arranging them properly.
The words appetite, pojfion^ offeEl'iotiy iuterejl, reafon^ cannot be faid to have one definite fignification. They are taken fome- times in a larger, and fometimes in a more limited fenfe. The fame principle is fometimes called by one of thofe names, fome- times by another ; and principles of a very different nature are often called by the fame name.
To remedy this confufion of names, it might perhaps feem proper to invent new ones. But there are fo few entitled to this privilege, that I ihall not lay claim to it ; but fhall endeavour to clafs the various principles of human adlion as diftindlly as I am able, and to point out their fpecific differences j giving them fuch names as may deviate from the common ufe of the words as little as poflible.
There are fome principles of adtlon which require no atten- tion, no deliberation, no will. Thefe, for diflindlion's fake, we fliall call mechanical. Another clafs we may call animal, as they feem common to man with other animals. A third clafs we may call rational, being proper to man as a rational creature.
CHAP,
T
INSTINCT.
CHAP. II. hiJlhiEl.
H E mechanical principles of adion may, I think, be re- duced to two fpecies, inJlinEls and babUs.
103
By Inflindl, I mean a natural blind impulfe to certain adlions, without having any end in view, without deliberation, and very often without any conception of what we do.
Thus a man breathes while he Is alive, by the alternate con- traction and relaxation of certain mufcles, by which the chef!:, and of confcquence the lungs, are contracted and dilated. There is no reafon to think, that an infant new-born, knows that breathing is neceflary to life in its new ftate, that he knows how it muft be performed, or even that he has any thought or conception of that operation ; yet he breathes as foon as he is born with perfedl regularity, as if he had been taught, and got the habit by long pradlice.
By the fame kind of principle, a new-born child, when its ftomach is emptied, and nature has brought milk into the mo- ther's breaft, fucks and fwallows its food as perfedly as if it. knew the principles of that operation, and had got the habit of working according to them.
Sucking and fwallowing are very complex operations. Ana- tomifts defcribe about thirty pairs of mufcles that muft be em- ployed in every draught. Of thofe mufcles, every one muft be ferved by its proper nerve, and can make no exertion but by fomc influence communicated by the nerve. The exertion of all thofc mufcles and nerves is not fimultaneous. They muft
fucceed
CH\P. II.
I04
ESSAY III.
CHAP. II. fucceed each other in a certain order, and their order is no lefs necellliry than the exertion itfelf.
This regular train of operations is carried on according to the niceft rules of art, by the infant, who has neither art, nor fcience, nor experience, nor habit.
That the infant feels the uneafy fenfation of hunger, I admit; and that it 'fucks no longer than till this fenfation be removed. But who informed it that this uneafy fenfation might be re- moved, or by what means ? That it knows nothing of this is evident ; for it will as readily fuck a finger, or a bit of ilick, as the nipple.
By a like principle it is, that infants cry when they are pain- ed or hurt ; that they are afraid when left alone, efpecially in the dark; that they ftart when in danger of falling; that they are terrified by an angry countenance, or an angry tone of voice, and are foothed and comforted by a placid countenance, and by foft and gentle tones of voice.
In the animals we are befl acquainted with, and which we look upon as the more perfect of the brute-creation, we fee much the fame inflinds as in the human kind, or very fimilar ones, fuited to the particular date and manner of life of the animal.
Befides thefe, there are in brute-animals inflinds peculiar to each tribe, by which they are fitted for defence, for offence, or for providing for themfelves, and for their offspring.
It is not more certain, that nature hath furniflied various animals with various weapons of ofience and defence, than that the fame nature hath taught them how to ufe them ; the bull and the ram to butt, the horfe to kick, the dog to bite, the
lion
INSTINCT. IC5
lion to life his paws, tlie boar his tuHcs, the fcrpent his fangs, CHAP.ir. and the bee and wafp their fting.
The manufadlures of animals, If we may call them by that name, prefent us with a wonderful variety of inflinds, belong- ing to particular fpecies, whether of the focial or of the folitary kind ; the nefls of birds, fo fimilar in their fituation and archi- tedure ii the fame kind, fo various in different kinds ; the webs of fpiders, and of other fpinning animals ; the ball of the filk- worm i the ncfts of ants and other mining animals ; the combs of wafps, hornets and bees j the dams and houfes of beavers.
The inftind of animals is one of the moft delightful and in- ftrudive parts of a moft pleafant ftudy, that of natural hiftory; and deferves to be more cultivated than it has yet been.
Every manufacturing art among men was invented by fome man, improved by others, and brought to perfedion by time and experience. Men learn to work in it by long pradice, which i-roduces a habit. The arts of men vary in every age, and in every nation, and are found only in thofe who have been taught them.
The manufactures of animals differ from thofe of men in many flriking particulars.
No animal of the fpecies can claim the invention. No ani- mal ever introduced any new improvement, or any variation from the former pradice. Every one of the fpecies has equal (kill from the beginning, without teaching, without experience or habit. Every one has its art by a kind of infpiration. I do not mean that it is infpired witk the principles or niles of the art, but with the ability and inclination of working in it to per- fedion, without any knowledge of its principles, rules or end.
O The
io6 ESSAY III.
CHAP. II. The more fagacious animals may be taught to do many things which they do not by inftincl. What they are taught to do, they do with more or lefs fklll, according to their fagacity and their training. But, in their own arts, they need no teaching nor training, nor Is the art ever improved or loft. Bees gather their honey and their wax, they fabricate their combs and rear their young at this day, neither better nor worfe than they did when Virgil fo fweetly fung their works.
The work of every animal is Indeed like the works of nature,, perfedl in Its kind, and can bear the moft critical examination of the mechanic or the mathematician. One example from the animal laft mentioned may ferve to Illuftrate this.
Bees, It Is well known, conftru(5t their combs with fmall cells on both fides, fit both for holding their ftore of honey, and for rearing their young. There are only three poffible figures of the cells, which can make them all equal and fimilar, without any ufelefs nterftlces. Thefe are the equilateral triangle, thefquare, and the regular hexagon.
It Is well known to mathematicians, that there is not a fourth way poffible. In which a plane may be cut Into little fpaces that fhall be equal, fimilar and regular, without leaving any Inter- ftices. Of tlie three, the hexagon is the moft proper, both for convenlency and ftrength. Bees, as if they knew this, make their cells regular hexagons.
As the combs have cells on both fides, the cells may either be exadly oppofite, having partition agalnft partition, or the bot- tom of a cell may reft upon the partitions between the cells on the other fide, which will ferve as a buttrefs to ftrengthen It. The laft way Is beft for ftrength ; accordingly, the bottom of each cell refts agalnft the point where three partitions meet on the other fide, which gives it all the ftrength poftible*
The
1 N S T I N C T.
T07
The bottom of a cell may either be one plane perpendicular chap. ir. to the fide-partitions, or it may be compofed of feveral planes, meeting in a foliJ angle in the middle point. It is only in one of thefe two ways, that all the cells can be fimilar without lofing room. And, for the fame intention, the planes of which the bottom is compofed, if there be more than one, mufl be three in number, and neither more nor fewer.
It has been demonftrated, that, by making the bottoms of the cells to confift of three planes meeting in a point, there is a faving of material and labour no way inconfiderable. The bees, as if acquainted with thefe principles of folld geometry, follow them mod accurately ; the bottom of each cell being compofed of three planes which make obtufe angles with the fide-parti- tions, and with one another, and meet in a point in the middle of the bottom ; the three angles of this bottom being fupported by three partitions on the other fide of the comb, and the point of it by the common interfedtion of thofe three partitions.
One inflance more of the mathematical fkill difplayed in the ftruclure of a honey-comb deferves to be mentioned.
It is a curious mathematical problem, at what precife angle the three planes which compofe the bottom of a cell ought to meet, in order to make the greatefl poflible faving, or the leall expence, of material and labour.
. This is one of thofe problems, belonging to the higher parts of mathematics, which are called problems of maxima and mini- ma. It has been refolved by fome mathematicians, particularly by the ingenious Mr Maclaurin, by a fluxionary calculation, which is to be found in the Tranfa(^Ioiis of the Royal Society of London. He has determined precifely the angle required ^ and he found, by the mofl exadt menfuration the fubjed could
O 2 admit.
io8 ESSAY III.
CHAP. II. admit, that it is the very angle, in which the three planes in the- bottom of the cell of a honey-comb do actually meet.
Shall we afk here, who taught the bee the properties of folids, and to refolve problems of maxima and minima ? If a honey- comb were a work of human art, every man of common fenfe would conclude, without hefitation, that he who invented the conflrudlion, mail have underftood the principles on which it is conflruded.
We need not fay that bees know none of thefe things. They work moft geometrically, without any knowledge of geometry ; fomewhat like a child, who, by turning the handle of an organ^ makes good raufic, without any knowledge of mufic.
The art is not in the child, but in him who made the organ. In like manner, when a bee makes its combs fo geometrically, the geometry is not in the bee, but in that great Geometrician who made the bee, and made all things in number, weight and meafure,.
To return to inftinds in man ; thofe are mofl remarkable which appear in infancy, when we are ignorant of every thing neceflary to bur prefervation, and therefore mufl; periih, if we had not an invifible Guide, who leads us blind -fold in the way we fliould take, if we had eyes to fee it.
Befides the inftinds which appear only in infancy, and are. intended to fupply the want of underftanding in that early pe- riod, there are many which continue through life, and which fupply the defeds of our intelledual powers in every period. Of thefe we may obferve three clafles.
Firfi^ There are many things neceflary to be done for our pre- fervation,
INSTINCT.
109
fervation, which, even when we will to do, we know not the ci!AP. 11. means by which they inuft be done.
A man knows that he mufl fwallow his food before it can nourifli him. But this adion requires the co-operation of ma- ny nerves and mufclcs, of which he knows nothing; and if it were to be direded folely by his underftanding and will, he would llarve before he learned how to perform it.
Here inftind comes in to his aid. He needs do no more than will to fwallow. All the rcquifite motions of nerves and muf- cles immediately take place in their proper order, without his knowing or willing any thing about them.
If we afk here, whofe will do thefe nerves and mufcles obey ? Not his, furely, to whom they belong. He knows neither their names, nor nature, nor office ; he never thought of them. They are moved by fome impulfe, of which the caufe is unknown, without any thought, will or intention on his part, that is, they are moved inlHndivelv.
ft
This is the cafe, in fome degree, in every voluntary motion of our body. Thus, I will to ftretch out my arm. The effedl im- mediately follows. But we know that the arm is ftrctched out by the contradlion of certain mufcles ; and that the mufcles are contradled by the influence of the nerves. I know nothing, I think nothing, either of nerves or mufcles, when I ftretch out my arm ; yet this nervous influence, and this contraction of the mufcles, uncalled by me, immediately produce the effect which I willed. This is, as if a weight were to be raifed, which can be raifed only by a complication of levers, pullies, and other me- chanical powers, that are behind the curtain, and altogether un- known to me. I will to raife the weight ; and no fooner is this volition exerted, than the machinery behind the curtain falls to ■work and raifes the weight.
Tf
no
ESSAY III.
CHAP. II, If fuch a cafe fiiould happen, we would conclude, that there is fome perfon behind the curtain, who knew my will, and put the machine in motion to execute it.
The cafe of my willing to llretch out my arm, or to fwallow my food, has evidently a great fimilarity to this. But who it is that flands behind the curtain, and fets the internal machinery a-going, is hid from us ; fo flrangely and wonderfully are we made. This, however, is evident, that thofe internal motions are nt)t willed nor intended by us, and therefore are iuftindlive.
A fecond cafe in which we have need of inllind, even in ad- vanced life, is. When the adtion muft be fo frequently repeated, that to intend and will it every time it is done, would occupy too much of our thought, and leave no room for other necef- fary employments of the mind.
We muft breathe often every minute whether awake or afleep. We muft often clofe the eye-lids, in order to preferve the luftre of the eye. If thefe things required particular attention and volition every time they are done, they would occupy all our thought. Nature therefore gives an impulfe to do them as often as is neceflary, without any thought at all. They confume no time, they give not the leaft interruption to any exercife of the mind ', becaufe they are done by inftind.
A third cafe, in which we need the aid of inftind, is, When the adion muft be done fo fuddenly, that there is no time to think and determine. When a man lofes his balance, either on foot or on horfeback, he makes an inftantaneous effort to recover it by inftin(5t. The effort would be in vain, if it waited the de- termination of reafon and will.
When .any thing threatens our eyes, we wink hard, by inftindt, and can hardly avoid doing fo, even when we know that the
ftroke
INSTINCT. Ill
flroke is aimed in jeft, and that we are perfedly fafe from dan- CHAP. n.
ger. I liave feen this tried upon a wa52;er, which a man was to
gain if he could keep his eyes open, while another aimed a ftroke
at them in jefl. The difficulty of doing this fliews that there
may be a ftruggle between inflinrt and will ; and that it is not
eafy to refill; the impulfe of inftinft, even by a ftrong refolution
not to yield to it.
Thus the merciful Author of our nature, hath adapted our in- (lindls to the defedts, and to the weaknefs of our underfland- ing. In infancy we are ignorant of every thing j yet many things muft be done by us for our prefervation : Thefe are done by inflind. When we grow up there are many motions of our limbs and bodies necefTary, which can be performed only by a curious and complex internal machinery ; a machinery of which the bulk of mankind are totally ignorant, and which the moft fkilful anatomifl knows but imperfedly. All this machinery is fet a-going by inftinc^. We need only to will the external motion, and all the internal motions, previoufly neceffary to the effeft, take place of themfelves, without our will or command.
Some actions muR be fo often repeated, through the whole of life, that, if they required attention and will, we lliould be able to do nothing elfe : Thefe go on regularly by inftincft.
Our prefervation from danger often requires fuch fudden ex- ertions, that there is no time to think and to determine : Accord- ingly we make Inch exertions by inftincft.
Another thing in the nature of man, which I take to be part- ly, though not wholly, iiiflindtive, is his pronenefs to imita- tion.
Aristotle obferved, long ago, that man is an Imitative a- nimal. He is fo in more refpedls than one. He is difpofed
to
112 ESSAY III.
CHAP. 11. to imitate what be approves. In all arts men learn more, and more agreeably, by example than by rules. Imitation by the chifTel, by the pencil, by defcription profaxc and poetical, and by adlion and gefture, have been favourite and elegant enter- tainments of the whole fpecies. In all thefe cafes, however, the imitation is intended and willed, and therefore cannot be faid to be inftindive.
But, I apprehend, that human nature difpofes us to the imita- tion of thofe among whom we live, when we neither defire nor will it.
Let an Englilhman, of middle age, take up his refidence in Edinburgh or Glafgow ; although he has not the leaft intention to ufe the Scots dialed, but a firm refolution to preferve his own pure and unmixed, he will find it very difficult to make good his intention. He will, in a courfe of years, fall in- fenfibly, and without intention, into the tone and accent, and even into the words and phrafes of thofe he converfes with j and nothing can preferve him from this, but a flrong difgufl to eve- ry Scoticifm, which perhaps may overcome the natural inflind;.
It is commonly thought that children often learn to flammer by imitation 3 yet I believe no perfon ever defired or willed to learn that quality,
I apprehend that inftindive imitation has no fmall influence in forming the peculiarities of provincial dialeds, the peculiari- ties of voice, geflure, and manner, which we fee in fome fami- lies, the manners peculiar to different ranks, and different pro- feflions j and perhaps even in forming national charaders, and the human character in general.
The inflances that hiftory furnifhes of wild men, brought up from early years, without the fociety of any of their own fpe- cies
INSTINCT. nj
cies are Co few that we cannot build conclufions upon them with CHAP. ir. great certainty. But all I have heard of agreed in this, that the wild man gave but very flender indications of the rational facul- ties ; and, with regard to his mind, was hardly diftinguifhable from the more fagacious of the brutes.
There is a confiderable part of the lowcft rank in every na- tion, of whom it cannot be faid that any pains have been taken by themfelves, or by others, to cultivate their underftanding, or to form their manners ; yet we fee an immenfe difference between them and the wild man.
This difference is wholly the effedl of foclety ; and, I think, it is in a great meafure, though not wholly, the effedt of unde- figned and inftindlive imitation.
Perhaps, not only our adions, but even our judgment, and be- lief, is, in fome cafes, guided by inflindl:, that is, by a natural and blind impulfe.
When we confider man as a rational creature, it may feem right that he fliould have no belief but what is grounded upon evidence, probable or demonllrative ; and it is, I think, common- ly taken for granted, that it is always evidence, real or apparent, that determines our belief.
If this be fo, the confequence is, That, in no cafe, can there be any belief, till we find evidence, or, at leaft, what to our judg- ment appears to be evidence. I fufped it is not fo ; but that, on the contrary, before we grow up to the full ufe of our rational facul- ties, we do believe, and mufl believe, many things without any evidence at all.
The faculties which we have in common with brute-animals, are of earlier growth than reafon. We are irrational animals
P for
n+
ESSAY HI.
CHAP. ir. for a conliderable time before we can properly be called rational. The operations of reafon fpring up by imperceptible degrees j nor is it pofllble for vis to trace accurately the order in which they rife. The power of refledtion, by which only we could trace the progrefs of our growing faculties, comes too late to anfvver that end. Some operations of brute-animals look fo like reafon, that they are not eafily diftinguilhed from it. Whether brutes have any thing that can properly be called belief, I cannot fay ; but their actions fliew fomething that looks very like it.
If there be any inflincftive belief in man, it is probably of the fame kind with that which we afcribe to brutes, and may be fpe- cifically different from that rational belief which is grounded on evidence ; but that there is fomething in man which we call be- lief, which is not grounded on evidence, I think, mufl be granted.
We need to be informed of many things before we ar€ ca- pable of difcerning the evidence on which they reft. W^ere our belief to be with-held till we are capable, in any degree, of weigh- ing evidence, we fhould lofe all the benefit of that inftrudioii and information, without which we could never attain the ufe of our rational faculties.
Man would never acquire the ufe of reafon if he were not brought up in the fociety of reafonable creatures. The benefit he receives from fociety, is derived partly from imitation of what he fees others do, partly from the inftrudlion and informa- tion they communicate to him, without which he could neither be preferved from deftrudtion, nor acquire the ufe of his ration- al powers.
Children have a thoufand things to learn, and they learn ma- ny things every day ; more than will be eafily believed by thofe who have never given attention to their progrefs.
Oportet
INSTINCT.. f,5
X)portct d'lfcentan credere is a common adage. Clilldrcn liave chap. ir. every thing to learn ; and, in order to learn, they mud believe their inftrudors. They need a greater (lock of faiih from in- fancy to twelve or fourteen, than ever after. But how fliall they get this ftock fo nccefifary to tlieni ? If their faith de- pend upon evidence, the ftock of evidence, real or apparent, muft bear proportion to their faith. But fuch, in reality, is their fituation, that when their faith mufl be greatell, the evidence is leaft. They believe a thoufand things before they ever fpend a thought upon evidence. Nature fupplies the want of evidence, and gives them an inftindive kind of faith without evidence.
They believe Implicitly whatever they are told, and receive with aflurance the teftimony of every one, without ever thinking of a reafon why they fliould do fo.
A parent or a mafter might command them to believe j but In vain ; for belief is not in our power ; but in the firft part of life, it is governed by mere teftimony in matters of fad, and by mere authority in all other matters, no lefs than by evidence in riper years.
It is not the words of the teftifier, but his belief, that produces this belief in a child: For children foon learn to diftiii<ruini what is faid in jeft, from what is faid in good earneft. What appears to them to be faid in jeft, produces no belief. They glory in ftiewing that they are not to be impofed on. When the figns of belief in the fpeaker are ambiguous, it is pleafant to ob- ferve with what fagacity they pry into his features, to difcern whether he really believes what he fays, or only counterfeits belief. As foon as this point is determined, their belief is regu- lated by his. if he be doubtful, they are doubtful, if he be af- . fured, they are alfo aflured.
It is well known what a deep impreflion religious principles
P 2 zealouflv
iifr ESSAY III.
CHAP. II. zealoufly inculcated make upon the minds of children. The abfurditles of ghofts and hobgoblins early imprefled, have been known to flick fo fall, even in enlightened minds, as to baffle all rational conviction.
Wheo we grow up to the ufe of reafon, teftimony attended with certain circumftances, or even authority, may afford a ra- tional ground of belief; but with children, without any regard to circumftances, either of them operates like demonftration. And as they feek no reafon, nor can give any reafon, for this re- gard to teftimony and to authority, it is the effedt of a natural impulfe, and may be called inftindl.
Another inftance of belief which appears to be inftindlive, is that which children fhew even in infancy, that an event v.'hich they have obferved in certain circumftances, will happen again in like circumftances. A child of half a year old, who has once burned his finger by putting it in the candle, will not put it there again. And if you make a fhew of putting it in the candle by force, you fee the mofl manifelt figns that he believes he fhall meet with the fame calamity.
Mr Hume hath fhewn very clearly, that this belief is not the effecft either of reafon or experience. He endeavours to account for it by the affociation of ideas. Though I am not fatisfied with his account of this phenomenon, I fhall not now examine it J becaufe it is fulKcient for the prefent argument, that this be- lief is not grounded on evidence, real or apparent, which I think he clearly proves.
A perfon who has lived fo long In the world, as to obferve that nature is governed by fixed laws, may have fome rational ground to expert fimilar events in fimilar circumftances ; but this can- not be the cafe of the child. His belief therefore is not ground- ed on evidence. It is the refult of his conftitution.
Nor
O F H A B I T. „7
Nor is It the lefs fo, though it fliould arifc from the aflbciation CHAP. iii. of ideas. For what is called the alTociation of ideas is a law of nature in our couftitution ; which produces its efTcds without any operation of reafon oil our part, and in a manner of wliich we are entirely ignorant.
CHAP. III. Of Hahit.
HABIT differs from inftind, not in its nature, but in Its origin .; the latter being natural, the former acquired. Both operate without will or intention, without thought, and therefore may be called mechanical principles.
Habit is commonly defined, A facility of doing a thing, acquired hy having done it frequently. This definition is fufficient for ha- bits of art ; but the habits which may, with propriety, be called principles of action, muft give more than a facility, they mufl give aa inclination or impulfe to do the adllon ; and that, in many cafes, habits have this force, cannot be doubted.
How many aukward habits, by frequenting Improper compa- ny, are children apt to learn, in their addrefs, motion, looks, gefiure and pronunciation. They acquire fuch habits common- ly from