I. Early Life (1685-1721).

Towards the end of the reign of Charles the Second a certain William Berkeley, according to credible tradition, occupied a cottage attached to the ancient Castle of Dysert, in that part of the county of Kilkenny which is watered by the Nore. Little is known about this William Berkeley except that he was Irish by birth and English by descent. It is said that his father went over to Ireland soon after the Restoration, in the suite of his reputed kinsman, Lord Berkeley of Stratton, when he was Lord Lieutenant. William Berkeley's wife seems to have been of Irish blood, and in some remote way related to the family of Wolfe, the hero of Quebec. It was in the modest abode in the valley of the Nore that George, the eldest of their six sons, was born, on March 12, 1685.

There is nothing in the recorded family history of these Dysert Berkeleys that helps to explain the singular personality and career of the eldest son. The parents have left no mark, and make no appearance in any extant records of the family. They probably made their way to the valley of the Nore among families of English connexion who, in the quarter of a century preceding the birth of George Berkeley, were finding settlements in Ireland. The family, as it appears, was not wealthy, but was recognised as of gentle blood. Robert, the fifth son, [pg xxiv] became rector of Middleton and vicar-general of Cloyne; and another son, William, held a commission in the army. According to the Register of Trinity College, one of the sons was born “near Thurles,” in 1699, and Thomas, the youngest, was born in Tipperary, in 1703, so that the family may have removed from Dysert after the birth of George. In what can be gleaned of the younger sons, one finds little appearance of sympathy with the religious and philosophical genius of the eldest.

Regarding this famous eldest son in those early days, we have this significant autobiographical fragment in his Commonplace Book: “I was distrustful at eight years old, and consequently by nature disposed for the new doctrines.” In his twelfth year we find the boy in Kilkenny School. The register records his entrance there in the summer of 1696, when he was placed at once in the second class, which seems to imply precocity, for it is almost a solitary instance. He spent the four following years in Kilkenny. The School was in high repute for learned masters and famous pupils; among former pupils were the poet Congreve and Swift, nearly twenty years earlier than George Berkeley; among his school-fellows was Thomas Prior, his life-long friend and correspondent. In the days of Berkeley and Prior the head master was Dr. Hinton, and the School was still suffering from the consequences of “the warre in Ireland” which followed the Revolution.

Berkeley in Kilkenny School is hardly visible, and we have no means of estimating his mental state when he left it. Tradition says that in his school-days he was wont to feed his imagination with airy visions and romance, a tradition which perhaps originated long after in popular misconceptions of his idealism. Dimly discernible at Kilkenny, only a few years later he was a conspicuous figure in an island that was then beginning to share in the intellectual movement of the modern world, taking [pg xxv] his place as a classic in English literature, and as the most subtle and ardent of contemporary English-speaking thinkers.

In March, 1700, at the age of fifteen, George Berkeley entered Trinity College, Dublin. This was his home for more than twenty years. He was at first a mystery to the ordinary undergraduate. Some, we are told, pronounced him the greatest dunce, others the greatest genius in the College. To hasty judges he seemed an idle dreamer; the thoughtful admired his subtle intelligence and the beauty of his character. In his undergraduate years, a mild and ingenuous youth, inexperienced in the ways of men, vivacious, humorous, satirical, in unexpected ways inquisitive, often paradoxical, through misunderstandings he persisted in his own way, full of simplicity and enthusiasm. In 1704 (the year in which Locke died) he passed Bachelor of Arts, and became Master in 1707, when he was admitted to a Fellowship, “the only reward of learning which that kingdom had to bestow.”

In Trinity College the youth found himself on the tide of modern thought, for the “new philosophy” of Newton and Locke was then invading the University. Locke's Essay, published in 1690, was already in vogue. This early recognition of Locke in Dublin was chiefly due to William Molyneux, Locke's devoted friend, a lawyer and member of the Irish Parliament, much given to the experimental methods. Descartes, too, with his sceptical criticism of human beliefs, yet disposed to spiritualise powers commonly attributed to matter, was another accepted authority in Trinity College; and Malebranche was not unknown. Hobbes was the familiar representative of a finally materialistic conception of existence, reproducing in modern forms the atomism of Democritus and the ethics of Epicurus. Above all, Newton was acknowledged master in physics, whose Principia, issued three [pg xxvi] years sooner than Locke's Essay, was transforming the conceptions of educated men regarding their surroundings, like the still more comprehensive law of physical evolution in the nineteenth century.

John Toland, an Irishman, one of the earliest and ablest of the new sect of Free-thinkers, made his appearance at Dublin in 1696, as the author of Christianity not Mysterious. The book was condemned by College dignitaries and dignified clergy with even more than Irish fervour. It was the opening of a controversy that lasted over half of the eighteenth century in England, in which Berkeley soon became prominent; and it was resumed later on, with greater intellectual force and in finer literary form, by David Hume and Voltaire. The collision with Toland about the time of Berkeley's matriculation may have awakened his interest. Toland was supposed to teach that matter is eternal, and that motion is its essential property, into which all changes presented in the outer and inner experience of man may at last be resolved. Berkeley's life was a continual protest against these dogmas. The Provost of Trinity College in 1700 was Dr. Peter Browne, who had already entered the lists against Toland; long after, when Bishop of Cork, he was in controversy with Berkeley about the nature of man's knowledge of God. The Archbishop of Dublin in the early years of the eighteenth century was William King, still remembered as a philosophical theologian, whose book on the Origin of Evil, published in 1702, was criticised by Boyle and Leibniz.

Dublin in those years was thus a place in which a studious youth, who had been “distrustful at eight years old,” might be disposed to entertain grave questions about the ultimate meaning of his visible environment, and of the self-conscious life to which he was becoming awake. Is the universe of existence confined to the visible world, and is matter the really active power in existence? Is God [pg xxvii] the root and centre of all that is real, and if so, what is meant by God? Can God be good if the world is a mixture of good and evil? Questions like these were ready to meet the inquisitive Kilkenny youth in his first years at Dublin.

One of his earliest interests at College was mathematical. His first appearance in print was as the anonymous author of two Latin tracts, Arithmetica and Miscellanea Mathematica, published in 1707. They are interesting as an index of his intellectual inclination when he was hardly twenty; for he says they were prepared three years before they were given to the world. His disposition to curious questions in geometry and algebra is further shewn in his College Commonplace Book.

This lately discovered Commonplace Book throws a flood of light upon Berkeley's state of mind between his twentieth and twenty-fourth year. It is a wonderful revelation; a record under his own hand of his thoughts and feelings when he first came under the inspiration of a new conception of the nature and office of the material world. It was then struggling to find adequate expression, and in it the sanguine youth seemed to find a spiritual panacea for the errors and confusions of philosophy. It was able to make short work, he believed, with atheistic materialism, and could dispense with arguments against sceptics in vindication of the reality of experience. The mind-dependent existence of the material world, and its true function in the universe of concrete reality, were to be disclosed under the light of a new transforming self-evident Principle. “I wonder not at my sagacity in discovering the obvious and amazing truth. I rather wonder at my stupid inadvertency in not finding it out before—'tis no witchcraft to see.” The pages of the Commonplace Book give vent to rapidly forming thoughts about the things of sense and the “ambient space” of a youth entering into reflective life, in company with Descartes [pg xxviii] and Malebranche, Bacon and Hobbes, above all, Locke and Newton; who was trying to translate into reasonableness his faith in the reality of the material world and God. Under the influence of this new conception, he sees the world like one awakening from a confused dream. The revolution which he wanted to inaugurate he foresaw would be resisted. Men like to think and speak about things as they have been accustomed to do: they are offended when they are asked to exchange this for what appears to them absurdity, or at least when the change seems useless. But in spite of the ridicule and dislike of a world long accustomed to put empty words in place of living thoughts, he resolves to deliver himself of his burden, with the politic conciliation of a skilful advocate however; for he characteristically reminds himself that one who “desires to bring another over to his own opinions must seem to harmonize with him at first, and humour him in his own way of talking.”

In 1709, when he was twenty-four years old, Berkeley presented himself to the world of empty verbal reasoners as the author of what he calls modestly An Essay towards a New Theory of Vision. It was dedicated to Sir John Percival, his correspondent afterwards for more than twenty years; but I have not discovered the origin of their friendship. The Essay was a pioneer, meant to open the way for the disclosure of the Secret with which he was burdened, lest the world might be shocked by an abrupt disclosure. In this prelude he tries to make the reader recognise that in ordinary seeing we are always interpreting visual signs; so that we have daily presented to our eyes what is virtually an intelligible natural language; so that in all our intercourse with the visible world we are in intercourse with all-pervading active Intelligence. We are reading absent data of touch and of the other senses in the language of their visual signs. And the [pg xxix] visual signs themselves, which are the immediate objects of sight, are necessarily dependent on sentient and percipient mind; whatever may be the case with the tangible realities which the visual data signify, a fact evident by our experience when we make use of a looking-glass. The material world, so far at least as it presents itself visibly, is real only in being realised by living and seeing beings. The mind-dependent visual signs of which we are conscious are continually speaking to us of an invisible and distant world of tangible realities; and through the natural connexion of the visual signs with their tactual meanings, we are able in seeing practically to perceive, not only what is distant in space, but also to anticipate the future. The Book of Vision is in literal truth a Book of Prophecy. The chief lesson of the tentative Essay on Vision is thus summed up:—

“Upon the whole, I think we may fairly conclude that the proper objects of Vision constitute the Universal Language of Nature; whereby we are instructed how to regulate our actions in order to attain those things that are necessary to the preservation and well-being of our bodies, as also to avoid whatever may be hurtful and destructive of them. And the manner wherein they signify and mark out unto us the objects which are at a distance is the same with that of languages and signs of human appointment; which do not suggest the things signified by any likeness or identity of nature, but only by an habitual connexion that experience has made us to observe between them. Suppose one who had always continued blind be told by his guide that after he has advanced so many steps he shall come to the brink of a precipice, or be stopped by a wall; must not this to him seem very admirable and surprising? He cannot conceive how it is possible for mortals to frame such predictions as these, which to him would seem as strange and unaccountable as prophecy does to others. Even [pg xxx] they who are blessed with the visive faculty may (though familiarity make it less observed) find therein sufficient cause of admiration. The wonderful art and contrivance wherewith it is adjusted to those ends and purposes for which it was apparently designed; the vast extent, number, and variety of objects that are at once, with so much ease and quickness and pleasure, suggested by it—all these afford subject for much and pleasing speculation, and may, if anything, give us some glimmering analogous prænotion of things that are placed beyond the certain discovery and comprehension of our present state2.”

Berkeley took orders in the year in which his Essay on Vision was published. On February 1, 1709, he was ordained as deacon, in the chapel of Trinity College, by Dr. George Ashe, Bishop of Clogher. Origen and Augustine, Anselm and Aquinas, Malebranche, Fenelon, and Pascal, Cudworth, Butler, Jonathan Edwards, and Schleiermacher, along with Berkeley, are among those who are illustrious at once in the history of philosophy and of the Christian Church. The Church, it has been said, has been for nearly two thousand years the great Ethical Society of the world, and if under its restrictions it has been less conspicuous on the field of philosophical criticism and free inquiry, these names remind us of the immense service it has rendered to meditative thought.

The light of the Percival correspondence first falls on Berkeley's life in 1709. The earliest extant letters from Berkeley to Sir John Percival are in September, October, and December of that year, dated at Trinity College. In one of them he pronounces Socrates “the best and most admirable man that the heathen world has produced.” Another letter, in March, 1710, accompanies a copy of the second edition of the Essay on Vision. “I have made some alterations and additions in the body of the treatise,” he says, “and in the appendix have endeavoured to meet the [pg xxxi] objections of the Archbishop of Dublin;” whose sermon he proceeds to deprecate, for “denying that goodness and understanding are more to be affirmed of God than feet or hands,” although all these may, in a metaphorical sense. How far, or whether at all, God is knowable by man, was, as we shall see, matter of discussion and controversy with Berkeley in later life; but this shews that the subject was already in his thoughts. Returning to the Essay on Vision, he tells Sir John that “there remains one objection, that with regard to the uselessness of that book of mine; but in a little time I hope to make what is there laid down appear subservient to the ends of morality and religion, in a Treatise I have in the press, the design of which is to demonstrate the existence and attributes of God, the immortality of the soul, the reconciliation of God's foreknowledge and the freedom of man; and by shewing the emptiness and falsehood of several parts of the speculative sciences, to induce men to the study of religion and things useful. How far my endeavours will prove successful, and whether I have been all this time in a dream or no, time will shew. I do not see how it is possible to demonstrate the being of a God on the principles of the Archbishop—that strictly goodness and understanding can no more be assumed of God than that He has feet or hands; there being no argument that I know for God's existence which does not prove Him at the same time to be an understanding and benevolent being, in the strict, literal, and proper meaning of these words.” He adds, “I have written to Mr. Clarke to give me his thoughts on the subject of God's existence, but have got no answer.”

The work foreshadowed in this letter appeared in the summer of 1710, as the “First part” of a Treatise concerning the Principles of Human Knowledge, wherein the chief causes of error and difficulty in the Sciences, with the grounds of Scepticism, Atheism, and Irreligion, are inquired into. In this fragment of a larger work, never finished, Berkeley's [pg xxxii] spiritual conception of matter and cosmos is unfolded, defended, and applied. According to the Essay on Vision, the world, as far as it is visible, is dependent on living mind. According to this book of Principles the whole material world, as far as it can have any practical concern with the knowings and doings of men, is real only by being realised in like manner in the percipient experience of some living mind. The concrete world, with which alone we have to do, could not exist in its concrete reality if there were no living percipient being in existence to actualise it. To suppose that it could would be to submit to the illusion of a metaphysical abstraction. Matter unrealised in its necessary subordination to some one's percipient experience is the chief among the illusions which philosophers have been too ready to encourage, and which the mass of mankind, who accept words without reflecting on their legitimate meanings, are ready to accept blindly. But we have only to reflect in order to see the absurdity of a material world such as we have experience of existing without ever being realised or made concrete in any sentient life. Try to conceive an eternally dead universe, empty for ever of God and all finite spirits, and you find you cannot. Reality can be real only in a living form. Percipient life underlies or constitutes all that is real. The esse of the concrete material world is percipi. This was the “New Principle” with which the young Dublin Fellow was burdened—the Secret of the universe which he had been longing to discharge upon mankind for their benefit, yet without sign of desire to gain fame for himself as the discoverer. It is thus that he unfolds it:—

“Some truths there are so near and obvious to the mind that a man need only open his eyes to see them. Such I take this important one to be, viz. that all the choir of heaven and furniture of the earth, in a word, all those bodies which compose the mighty frame of the world, have not [pg xxxiii] any subsistence without a Mind; that their being is to be perceived or known; that consequently so long as they are not actually perceived by me, or do not exist in my mind, or that of any other created spirit, they must either have no existence at all, or else subsist in the mind of some Eternal Spirit: it being perfectly unintelligible, and involving all the absurdity of abstraction, to attribute to any single part of them an existence independent of a Spirit3.”

This does not mean denial of the existence of the world that is daily presented to our senses and which includes our own bodies. On the contrary, it affirms, as intuitively true, the existence of the only real matter which our senses present to us. The only material world of which we have any experience consists of the appearances (misleadingly called ideas of sense by Berkeley) which are continually rising as real objects in a passive procession of interpretable signs, through means of which each finite person realises his own individual personality; also the existence of other finite persons; and the sense-symbolism that is more or less interpreted in the natural sciences; all significant of God. So the material world of concrete experience is presented to us as mind-dependent and in itself powerless: the deepest and truest reality must always be spiritual. Yet this mind-dependent material world is the occasion of innumerable pleasures and pains to human percipients, in so far as they conform to or contradict its customary laws, commonly called the laws of nature. So the sense-symbolism in which we live is found to play an important part in the experience of percipient beings. But it makes us sceptics and atheists when, in its name, we put a supposed dead abstract matter in room of the Divine Active Reason of which all natural order is the continuous providential expression.

Accordingly, God must exist, because the material world, in order to be a real world, needs to be continually [pg xxxiv] realised and regulated by living Providence; and we have all the certainty of sense and sanity that there is a (mind-dependent) material world, a boundless and endlessly evolving sense-symbolism.

In the two years after the disclosure of his New Principle we see Berkeley chiefly through his correspondence with Percival. He was eager to hear the voice of criticism; but the critics were slow to speak, and when they did speak they misconceived the question, and of course his answer to it. “If when you receive my book,” he writes from Dublin, in July, 1710, to Sir John, who was then in London, “you can procure me the opinion of some of your acquaintances who are thinking men, addicted to the study of natural philosophy and mathematics, I shall be extremely obliged to you.” He also asks Percival to present the book of Principles to Lord Pembroke, to whom he had ventured to dedicate it, as Locke had done his Essay. The reply was discouraging.

“I did but name the subject-matter of your book of Principles to some ingenuous friends of mine,” Percival says, “and they immediately treated it with ridicule, at the same time refusing to read it; which I have not yet got one to do. A physician of my acquaintance undertook to describe your person, and argued you must needs be mad, and that you ought to take remedies. A bishop pitied you, that a desire and vanity of starting something new should put you upon such an undertaking; and when I justified you in that part of your character, and added other deserving qualities you have, he could not tell what to think of you. Another told me an ingenious man ought not to be discouraged from exerting his wit, and said Erasmus was not worse thought of for writing in praise of folly; but that you are not gone as far as a gentleman in town, who asserts not only that there is no such thing as Matter, but that we ourselves have no being at all.”

[pg xxxv]

It is not surprising that a book which was supposed to deny the existence of all that we see and touch should be ridiculed, and its author called a madman. What vexed the author was, “that men who had never considered my book should confound me with the sceptics, who doubt the existence of sensible things, and are not positive of any one thing, not even of their own being. But whoever reads my book with attention will see that I question not the existence of anything we perceive by our senses. Fine spun metaphysics are what on all occasions I declaim against, and if any one shall shew anything of that sort in my Treatise I will willingly correct it.” A material world that was real enough to yield physical science, to make known to us the existence of other persons and of God, and which signified in very practical ways happiness or misery to sentient beings, seemed to him sufficiently real for human science and all other purposes. Nevertheless, in the ardour of youth Berkeley had hardly fathomed the depths into which his New Principle led, and which he hoped to escape by avoiding the abstractions of “fine-spun metaphysics.”

In December Percival writes from London that he has “given the book to Lord Pembroke,” who “thought the author an ingenious man, and to be encouraged”; but for himself he “cannot believe in the non-existence of Matter”; and he had tried in vain to induce Samuel Clarke, the great English metaphysician, either to refute or to accept the New Principle. In February Berkeley sends an explanatory letter for Lord Pembroke to Percival's care. In a letter in June he turns to social questions, and suggests that if “some Irish gentlemen of good fortune and generous inclinations would constantly reside in England, there to watch for the interests of Ireland, they might bring far greater advantage than they could by spending their incomes at home.” And so 1711 passes, with responses of ignorant critics; vain endeavours to draw [pg xxxvi] worthy criticism from Samuel Clarke; the author all the while doing work as a Tutor in Trinity College on a modest income; now and then on holidays in Meath or elsewhere in Ireland. Three discourses on Passive Obedience in the College Chapel in 1712, misinterpreted, brought on him the reproach of Jacobitism. Yet they were designed to shew that society rests on a deeper foundation than force and calculations of utility, and is at last rooted in principles of an immutable morality. Locke's favourite opinion, that morality is a demonstrable, seems to weigh with him in these Discourses.

But Berkeley was not yet done with the exposition and vindication of his new thought, for it seemed to him charged with supreme practical issues for mankind. In the two years which followed the publication of the Principles he was preparing to reproduce his spiritual conception of the universe, in the dramatic form of dialogue, convenient for dealing popularly with plausible objections. The issue was the Three Dialogues between Hylas and Philonous, in which Philonous argues for the absurdity of an abstract matter that is unrealised in the experience of living beings, as against Hylas, who is put forward to justify belief in this abstract reality. The design of the Dialogues is to present in a familiar form “such principles as, by an easy solution of the perplexities of philosophers, together with their own native evidence, may at once recommend themselves as genuine to the mind, and rescue philosophy from the endless pursuits it is engaged in; which, with a plain demonstration of the Immediate Providence of an all-seeing God, should seem the readiest preparation, as well as the strongest motive to the study and practice of virtue4.”

When the Dialogues were completed, at the end of 1712, Berkeley resolved to visit London, as he told Percival, “in order to print my new book of Dialogues, [pg xxxvii] and to make acquaintance with men of merit.” He got leave of absence from his College “for the recovery of his health,” which had suffered from study, and perhaps too he remembered that Bacon commends travel as “to the younger sort a part of education.”

Berkeley made his appearance in London in January, 1713. On the 26th of that month he writes to Percival that he “had crossed the Channel from Dublin a few days before,” describes adventures on the road, and enlarges on the beauty of rural England, which he liked more than anything he had seen in London. “Mr. Clarke” had already introduced him to Lord Pembroke. He had also called on his countryman Richard Steele, “who desired to be acquainted with him. Somebody had given him my Treatise on the Principles of Human Knowledge, and that was the ground of his inclination to my acquaintance.” He anticipates “much satisfaction in the conversation of Steele and his friends,” adding that “there is lately published a bold and pernicious book, a Discourse on Free-thinking5.” In February he “dines often with Steele in his house in Bloomsbury Square,” and tells in March “that you will soon hear of Mr. Steele under the character of the Guardian; he designs his paper shall come out every day as the Spectator.” The night before “a very ingenious new poem upon ‘Windsor Forest’ had been given to him by the author, Mr. Pope. The gentleman is a Papist, but a man of excellent wit and learning, one of those Mr. Steele mentions in his last paper as having writ some of the Spectator.” A few days later he has met “Mr. Addison, who has the same talents as Steele in a high degree, and is likewise a great philosopher, having applied himself to the speculative studies more than any of the wits I know. I breakfasted with him at Dr. Swift's lodgings. His coming in while I was there, and the good [pg xxxviii] temper he showed, was construed by me as a sign of the approaching coalition of parties. A play of Mr. Steele's, which was expected, he has now put off till next winter. But Cato, a most noble play of Mr. Addison, is to be acted in Easter week.” Accordingly, on April 18, he writes that “on Tuesday last Cato was acted for the first time. I was present with Mr. Addison and two or three more friends in a side box, where we had a talk and two or three flasks of Burgundy and Champagne, which the author (who is a very sober man) thought necessary to support his spirits, and indeed it was a pleasant refreshment to us all between the Acts. Some parts of the prologue, written by Mr. Pope, a Tory and even a Papist, were hissed, being thought to savour of Whiggism; but the clap got much the better of the hiss. Lord Harley, who sat in the next box to us, was observed to clap as loud as any in the house all the time of the play.” Swift and Pope have described this famous first night of Cato; now for the first time we have Berkeley's report. He adds, “This day I dined at Dr. Arbuthnot's lodging in the Queen's Palace.”

His countryman, Swift, was among the first to welcome him to London, where Swift had himself been for four years, “lodging in Bury Street,” and sending the daily journal to Stella, which records so many incidents of that memorable London life. Mrs. Vanhomrigh and her daughter, the unhappy Vanessa, were living in rooms in the same street as Swift, and there he “loitered, hot and lazy, after his morning's work,” and “often dined out of mere listlessness.” Berkeley was a frequent visitor at Swift's house, and this Vanhomrigh connexion with Swift had an influence on Berkeley's fortune long afterwards. On a Sunday in April we find him at Kensington, at the Court of Queen Anne, in the company of Swift. “I went to Court to-day,” Swift's journal records, “on purpose to present Mr. Berkeley, one of the Fellows of [pg xxxix] Trinity. College, to Lord Berkeley of Stratton. That Mr. Berkeley is a very ingenious man, and a great philosopher, and I have mentioned him to all the ministers, and have given them some of his writings, and I will favour him as much as I can.” In this, Swift was as good as his word. “Dr. Swift,” he adds, “is admired both by Steele and Addison, and I think Addison one of the best natured and most agreeable men in the world.”

One day about this time, at the instance of Addison, it seems that a meeting was arranged between Berkeley and Samuel Clarke, the metaphysical rector of St. James's in Piccadilly, whose opinion he had in vain tried to draw forth two years before through Sir John Percival. Berkeley's personal charm was felt wherever he went, and even “the fastidious and turbulent Atterbury,” after intercourse with him, is reported to have said: “So much understanding, so much knowledge, so much innocence, and such humility, I did not think had been the portion of any but angels till I saw this gentleman.” Much was expected from the meeting with Clarke, but Berkeley had again to complain that although Clarke had neither refuted his arguments nor disproved his premisses, he had not the candour to accept his conclusion.

It was thus that Berkeley became known to “men of merit” in that brilliant society. He was also brought among persons on whom he would hardly have conferred this title. He tells Percival that he had attended several free-thinking clubs, in the pretended character of a learner, and that he there heard Anthony Collins, author of “the bold and pernicious book on free-thinking,” boast “that he was able to demonstrate that the existence of God is an impossible supposition.” The promised “demonstration” seems to have been Collins' Inquiry Concerning Human Liberty, which appeared two years later, according to which all that happens in mind and matter is the issue of natural necessity. Steele invited Berkeley to contribute [pg xl] to the Guardian during its short-lived existence between March and September, 1713. He took the Discourse of Collins for the subject of his first essay. Three other essays are concerned with man's hope of a future life, and are among the few passages in his writings in which his philosophy is a meditation upon Death.

In May, Percival writes to him from Dublin that he hears the “new book of Dialogues is printed, though not yet published, and that your opinion has gained ground among the learned; that Mr. Addison has come over to your view; and that what at first seemed shocking is become so familiar that others envy you the discovery, and make it their own.” In his reply in June, Berkeley mentions that “a clergyman in Wiltshire has lately published a treatise wherein he advances something published three years ago in my Principles of Human Knowledge.” The clergyman was Arthur Collier, author of the Clavis Universalis, or demonstration of the impossibility of an external world6.

Berkeley's Three Dialogues were published in June. In the middle of that same month he was in Oxford, “a most delightful place,” where he spent two months, “witnessed the Act and grand performances at the theatre, and a great concourse from London and the country, amongst whom were several foreigners.” The Drury Lane Company had gone down to Oxford, and Cato was on the stage for several nights. The Percival correspondence now first discloses this prolonged visit to Oxford in the summer of 1713, that ideal home from whence, forty years after, he departed on a more mysterious journey than any on this planet. In a letter from thence to Percival, he had claimed Arbuthnot as one of the converts to the “new Principle.” Percival replied that Swift demurred to this, on which Berkeley rejoins: “As to what you say of Dr. Arbuthnot not being of my opinion, it is true there [pg xli] has been some difference between us concerning some notions relating to the necessity of the laws of nature; but this does not touch the main points of the non-existence of what philosophers call material substance; against which he acknowledges he can assert nothing.” One would gladly have got more than this from Berkeley, about what touched his favourite conception of the “arbitrariness” of law in nature, as distinguished from the “necessity” which some modern physicists are ready vaguely to take for granted.

The scene now changes. On October 15 Berkeley suddenly writes from London: “I am on the eve of going to Sicily, as chaplain to Lord Peterborough, who is Ambassador Extraordinary on the coronation of the new king.” He had been recommended by Swift to the Ambassador, one of the most extraordinary characters then in Europe, who a few years before had astonished the world in the war of the Succession in Spain, and afterwards by his genius as a diplomatist: in Holland, nearly a quarter of a century before, he had formed an intimate friendship with John Locke. Ten months in France and Italy in the suite of Lord Peterborough brought the young Irish metaphysician, who had lately been introduced to the wits of London and the dons of Oxford, into a new world. It was to him the beginning of a career of wandering and social activity, which lasted, with little interruption, for nearly twenty years, during which metaphysics and authorship were in the background. On November 25 we find him in Paris, writing letters to Percival and Prior. “From London to Calais”, he tells Prior, “I came in company of a Flamand, a Spaniard, a Frenchman, and three English servants of my Lord. The three gentlemen, being of three different nations, obliged me to speak the French language (which is now familiar), and gave me the opportunity of seeing much of the world in little [pg xlii] compass.... On November 1 (O.S.) I embarked in the stage-coach, with a company that were all perfect strangers to me. There were two Scotch, and one English gentleman. One of the former happened to be the author of the Voyage to St. Kilda and the Account of the Western Isles7. We were good company on the road; and that day se'ennight came to Paris. I have since been taken up in viewing churches, convents, palaces, colleges, &c., which are very numerous and magnificent in this town. The splendour and riches of these things surpasses belief; but it were endless to descend to particulars. I was present at a disputation in the Sorbonne, which indeed had much of the French fire in it. I saw the Irish and the English Colleges. In the latter I saw, enclosed in a coffin, the body of the late King James.... To-morrow I intend to visit Father Malebranche, and discourse him on certain points.”

The Abbé D'Aubigné, as he informs Percival, was to introduce him to Malebranche, then the chief philosopher of France, whose Vision of the world in God had some affinity with Berkeley's own thought. Unfortunately we have no record of the intended interview with the French idealist, who fourteen years before had been visited by Addison, also on his way to Italy, when Malebranche expressed great regard for the English nation, and admiration for Newton; but he shook his head when Hobbes was mentioned, whom he ventured to disparage as a “poor silly creature.” Malebranche died nearly two years after Berkeley's proposed interview; and according to a story countenanced by Dugald Stewart, Berkeley was the “occasional cause” of his death. He found the venerable Father, we are told, in a cell, cooking, in a pipkin, a medicine for a disorder with which he was troubled. The conversation naturally turned on Berkeley's system, of which [pg xliii] Malebranche had received some knowledge from a translation. The issue of the debate proved tragical to poor Malebranche. In the heat of disputation he raised his voice so high, and gave way so freely to the natural impetuosity of a man of genius and a Frenchman, that he brought on a violent increase of his disorder, which carried him off a few days after8. This romantic tale is, I suspect, mythical. The Percival correspondence shews that Berkeley was living in London in October, 1715, the month in which Malebranche died, and I find no trace of a short sudden visit to Paris at that time.

After a month spent in Paris, another fortnight carried Berkeley and two travelling companions to Italy through Savoy. They crossed Mont Cenis on New Year's Day in 1714—“one of the most difficult and formidable parts of the Alps which is ever passed over by mortal man,” as he tells Prior in a letter from Turin. “We were carried in open chairs by men used to scale these rocks and precipices, which at this season are more slippery and dangerous than at other times, and at the best are high, craggy, and steep enough to cause the heart of the most valiant man to melt within him.” At the end of other six weeks we find him at Leghorn, where he spent three months, “while my lord was in Sicily.” He “prefers England or Ireland to Italy: the only advantage is in point of air.” From Leghorn he writes in May a complimentary letter to Pope, on the occasion of the Rape of the Lock: “Style, painting, judgment, spirit, I had already admired in your other writings; but in this I am charmed with the magic of your invention, with all those images, allusions, and inexplicable beauties which you raise so surprisingly, and at the same time so naturally, out of a trifle.... I remember to have heard you mention some [pg xliv] half-formed design of coming to Italy. What might we not expect from a muse that sings so well in the bleak climate of England, if she felt the same warm sun and breathed the same air with Virgil and Horace.” In July we find Berkeley in Paris on his way back to England. He had “parted from Lord Peterborough at Genoa, where my lord took post for Turin, and thence designed passing over the Alps, and so through Savoy, on his way to England.” In August they are in London, where the aspect of English politics was changed by the death of the Queen in that month. He seems to have had a fever soon after his return. In October, Arbuthnot, in one of his chatty letters to Swift, writes thus: “Poor philosopher Berkeley has now the idea of health, which was very hard to produce in him, for he had an idea of a strange fever upon him, so strange that it was very hard to destroy it by introducing a contrary one.”

Our record of the two following years is a long blank, first broken by a letter to Percival in July, 1715, dated at London. Whether he spent any time at Fulham with Lord Peterborough after their return from Italy does not appear, nor whether he visited Ireland in those years, which is not likely. We have no glimpses of brilliant London society as in the preceding year. Steele was now in Parliament. Swift had returned to Dublin, and Addison was the Irish chief secretary. But Pope was still at Binfield, among the glades of Windsor, and Berkeley congratulated him after receiving the first volume of his Homer. Of his own literary pursuits we hear nothing. Perhaps the Second Part of the Principles, which was lost afterwards in his travels, engaged him. In the end of July he wrote to Lord Percival9 from Flaxley10 on the Severn; and in August, September, October, and November he wrote from London, chiefly interested in [pg xlv] reports about “the rebels in Scotland,” and “the forces under Lord Mar, which no doubt will languish and disperse in a little time. The Bishop of Bristol assured me the other day that the Court expect that the Duke of Orleans would, in case of need, supply them with forces against the Pretender.” Our next glimpse of him is in May, 1716, when he writes to Lord Percival that he is “like soon to go to Ireland, the Prince of Wales having recommended him to the Lords Justices for the living of St. Paul's in Dublin.” This opening was soon closed, and the visit to Ireland was abandoned. A groundless suspicion of Jacobitism was not overcome by the interest of Caroline, Princess of Wales. In June, 1716, Charles Dering wrote from Dublin, that “the Lords Justices have made a strong representation against him.” He had to look elsewhere for the immediate future.

We find him at Turin in November, 1716, with a fresh leave of absence for two years from his College. It seems that Ashe, Bishop of Clogher, had engaged him as travelling tutor to his son, a means not then uncommon for enabling young authors of moderate fortune to see new countries and mix with society. Addison had visited Italy in this way sixteen years before, and Adam Smith long afterwards travelled with the young Duke of Buccleuch. With young Ashe, Berkeley crossed Mont Cenis a second time. They reached Rome at the beginning of 1717. His Journal in Italy in that year, and occasional letters to Percival, Pope, and Arbuthnot, shew ardent interest in nature and art. With the widest views, “this very great though singular sort of man descended into a minute detail, and begrudged neither pains nor expense for the means of information. He travelled through a great part of Sicily on foot; clambered over the mountains and crept into the caverns, to investigate its natural history and discover the causes of its volcanoes; and I have known him sit for hours in forges and foundries to inspect their [pg xlvi] successive operations11.” If the Journal had been transformed by his own hand into a book, his letter to Pope from Inarime shews that the book might have rivalled Addison's Remarks on Parts of Italy in grace of style and large human interest.

In the summer of 1720 we find the travellers at Florence, afterwards for some time at Lyons, and in London at the beginning of the next year. On the way home his metaphysical inspiration was revived. The “Cause of Motion” had been proposed by the French Academy as the subject of a prize dissertation. The subject gave an opportunity for further unfolding his early thought. In the Principles and the Dialogues he had argued for the necessary dependence of matter, for its concrete substantial reality, upon living percipient mind. He would now shew its powerlessness as it is presented to us in sense. The material world, chiefly under the category of substance, inspired the Principles. The material world, under the category of cause or power, inspired the De Motu. This Latin Essay sums up the distinctive thought of Berkeley, as it appears in the authorship of his early life. Moles evolvit et agitat mentes might be taken as the formula of the materialism which he sought to dissolve. Mens percipit et agitat molem significantem, cujus esse est percipi expresses what Berkeley would substitute for the materialistic formula.

The end of the summer of 1721 found Berkeley still in London. England was in the social agitation and misery consequent upon the failure of the South Sea Company, a gigantic commercial speculation connected with British trade in America. A new inspiration took possession of him. He thought he saw in this catastrophe signs of a decline in public morals worse than that which followed the Restoration. “Political corruption”, “decay of religion,” “growth of atheism,” were descriptive words used by the [pg xlvii] thoughtful. Berkeley's eager imagination was apt to exaggerate the evil. He became inspired by social idealism, and found vent for his fervour in An Essay towards preventing the Ruin of Great Britain, which, as well as the De Motu, made its appearance in 1721. This Essay is a significant factor in his career. It was the Cassandra wail of a sorrowful and indignant prophet, prepared to shake the dust from his feet, and to transfer his eye of hope to other regions, in which a nearer approach to Utopia might be realised. The true personality of the individual is unrealisable in selfish isolation. His favourite non sibi, sed toti mundo was henceforward more than ever the ruling maxim of his life.

II. Middle Life (1722-34).

In October, 1721, Berkeley was in Dublin. The register of the College shews that “on November 14, 1721, Mr. Berkeley had the grace of the House for the Degree of Bachelor and Doctor of Divinity.” There is no ground for the report that he returned to Ireland at this time as Chaplain to the Duke of Grafton, the Lord Lieutenant12. But preferment in the Church seemed within his reach. “I had no sooner set foot on shore,” he wrote to Percival in that October, “than I heard that the Deanery of Dromore was vacant.” Percival used his influence with the Lord Lieutenant, and in February, 1722, Berkeley's patent was [pg xlviii] “passing the Seals for the Deanery of Dromore.” But the Bishop of Dromore claimed the patronage, and this led to a protracted and ineffectual lawsuit, which took Berkeley to London in the following winter, “to see friends and inform himself of points of law,” and he tells that “on the way he was nearly drowned in crossing to Holyhead13.”

Berkeley's interest in church preferment was not personal. He saw in it only means to an end. In March, 1723, he surprised Lord Percival by announcing, in a letter from London, a project which it seems for some time had occupied his thoughts. “It is now about ten months,” he says, “since I have determined to spend the residue of my days in Bermuda, where I trust in Providence I may be the mean instrument of doing great good to mankind. Whatever happens, go I am resolved, if I live. Half a dozen of the most ingenious and agreeable men in our College are with me in this project, and since I came hither I have got together about a dozen Englishmen of quality, who intend to retire to those islands.” He then explains the project, opening a vision of Christian civilisation radiating from those fair islands of the West, whose idyllic bliss poets had sung, diffused over the New World, with its magnificent possibilities in the future history of mankind.

I find no further record of the origin of this bright vision. As it had become a practical determination “ten months” before March, 1723, one is carried back to the first months after his return to Dublin and to the Essay that was called forth by the South Sea catastrophe. One may conjecture that despair of England and the Old World—“such as Europe breeds in her decay”—led him to look westward for the hopeful future of mankind, moved, perhaps, by the connexion of the catastrophe with America. His active imagination pictured a better Republic than Plato's, and a grander Utopia than More's, [pg xlix] emanating from a College in the isles of which Waller had sung.

In the meantime a curious fortune unexpectedly favoured him. Swift's unhappy Vanessa, associated with Bury Street in 1713, had settled on her property at Marley Abbey near Dublin; and Swift had privately married Stella, as she confessed to Vanessa, who thereafter revoked the bequest of her fortune to Swift, and left it to be divided between Berkeley and Marshal, afterwards an Irish judge. Vanessa died in May, 1723. A few days after Berkeley wrote thus to Lord Percival: “Here is something that will surprise your lordship as it doth me. Mrs. Hester Vanhomrigh, a lady to whom I was a perfect stranger, having never in the whole course of my life exchanged a word with her, died on Sunday. Yesterday her Will was opened, by which it appears that I am constituted executor, the advantage whereof is computed by those who understand her affairs to be worth £3000.... My Bermuda scheme is now stronger in my mind than ever; this providential event having made many things easy which were otherwise before.” Lord Percival in reply concludes that he would “persist more than ever in that noble scheme, which may in some time exalt your name beyond that of St. Xavier and the most famous missionaries abroad.” But he warns him that, “without the protection of Government,” he would encounter insurmountable difficulties. The Vanessa legacy, and the obstructions in the way of the Deanery of Dromore, were the subjects of a tedious correspondence with his friend and business factotum, “Tom Prior,” in 1724 and the three following years. In the end, the debts of Vanessa absorbed most of the legacy. And as to the Deanery of Dromore, he tells Percival, on September 19, 1723: “I despair of seeing it end to my advantage. The truth is, my fixed purpose of going to Bermuda sets me above soliciting anything with earnestness in this part [pg l] of the world. It can be of no use to me, but as it may enable me the better to prosecute that design; and it must be owned that the present possession of something in the Church would make my application for an establishment in those islands more considered.”

Nevertheless, he got a Deanery at last. In May, 1724, he informs Lord Percival from Trinity College: “Yesterday I received my patent for the best Deanery in the kingdom, that of Derry. It is said to be worth £1500 per annum. But as I do not consider it with an eye to enriching myself, so I shall be perfectly contented if it facilitates and recommends my scheme of Bermuda, which I am in hopes will meet with a better reception if it comes from one possessed of so great a Deanery.” In September he is on his way, not to Derry, but to London, “to raise funds and obtain a Charter for the Bermuda College from George the First,” fortified by a remarkable letter from Swift to Lord Carteret, the new Lord Lieutenant, who was then in Bath14. As Swift predicted in this letter, Berkeley's conquests spread far and fast in England, where he organised his resources during the four following years. Nothing shews more signally the magic of his personality than the story of his life in London in those years of negotiation and endeavour. The proposal met with a response wonderful in a generation represented by Walpole. The subscriptions soon reached five thousand pounds, and Walpole was among the subscribers. The Scriblerus Club, meeting at Lord Bathurst's, agreed to rally Berkeley, who was among them, on his Bermuda scheme. He asked to be heard in defence, and presented the case with such force of enthusiasm that the company “were struck dumb, and after a pause simultaneously rose and asked leave to accompany him.” Bermuda for a time inspired London.

[pg li]

Berkeley was not satisfied with this. He remembered what Lord Percival had said about failure without help from Government. Accordingly he obtained a Charter from George the First early in 1726, and after canvassing the House of Commons, secured a grant of £20,000, with only two dissentient votes, in May of that year. This was the beginning of his difficulties. Payment was indefinitely delayed, and he was kept negotiating; besides, with the help of Prior, he was unravelling legal perplexities in which the Vanessa legacy was involved. It was in these years that he was seen at the receptions of Caroline at Leicester Fields, when she was Princess of Wales, and afterwards at St. James's or at Kensington, when she became Queen in 1727; not, he says, because he loved Courts, but because he loved America. Clarke was still rector of St. James's, and Butler had not yet migrated to his parsonage at Stanhope; so their society was open to him. The Queen liked to listen to a philosophical discussion. Ten years before, as Princess of Wales, she had been a royal go-between in the famous correspondence between Clarke and Leibniz. And now, Berkeley being in London, he too was asked to her weekly reunions, when she loved to hear Clarke arguing with Berkeley, or Berkeley arguing with Hoadley. Also in 1726 Voltaire made his lengthened visit to England, a familiar figure in the circle of Pope's friends, attracted to the philosophy of Locke and Newton; and Voltaire mentions that he met “the discoverer of the true theory of vision” during his stay in London.

From the summer of 1727 until the spring of 1728 there is no extant correspondence either with Percival or “Tom Prior” to throw light on his movements. In February, 1728, he was still in London, but he “hoped to set out for Dublin in March, and to America in May.” There is a mystery about this visit to Dublin. “I propose to set out for Dublin about a month hence,” he writes to “dear [pg lii] Tom,” “but of this you must not give the least intimation to anybody. It is of all things my earnest desire (and for very good reasons) not to have it known that I am in Dublin. Speak not, therefore, one syllable of it to any mortal whatsoever. When I formerly desired you to take a place for me near the town, you gave out that you were looking for a retired lodging for a friend of yours; upon which everybody surmised me to be the person. I must beg you not to act in the like manner now, but to take for me an entire house in your own name, and as for yourself; for, all things considered, I am determined upon a whole house, with no mortal in it but a maid of your own putting, who is to look on herself as your servant. Let there be two bed-chambers: one for you, another for me; and, as you like, you may ever and anon lie there. I would have the house, with necessary furniture, taken by the month (or otherwise, as you can), for I propose staying not beyond that time; and yet perhaps I may. Take it as soon as possible.... Let me entreat you to say nothing of this to anybody, but to do the thing directly.... I would of all things ... have a proper place in a retired situation, where I may have access to fields and sweet air provided against the moment I arrive. I am inclined to think one may be better concealed in the outermost skirt of the suburbs, than in the country or within the town.... A house quite detached in the country I should have no objection to, provided you judge that I shall not be liable to discovery in it. The place called Bermuda I am utterly against. Dear Tom, do this matter cleanly and cleverly, without waiting for further advice.... To the person from whom you hire it (whom alone I would have you speak of it to) it will not seem strange you should at this time of the year be desirous, for your own convenience or health, to have a place in a free and open air.” This mysterious letter was written in April. From April till September Berkeley again disappears. There is in all [pg liii] this a curious secretiveness of which one has repeated examples in his life. Whether he went to Dublin in that spring, or why he wanted to go, does not appear.

But in September he emerges unexpectedly at Gravesend, newly married, and ready to sail for Rhode Island, “in a ship of 250 tons which he had hired.” The marriage, according to Stock, took place on August 1, whether in Ireland or in England I cannot tell. The lady was Anne, daughter of John Forster, late Chief Justice, and then Speaker of the Irish House of Commons. She shared his fortune when he was about to engage in the most romantic, and ideally the grandest, Christian mission of the eighteenth century. According to tradition she was a devoutly religious mystic: Fénelon and Madame Guyon were among her favourites. “I chose her,” he tells Lord Percival, “for her qualities of mind and her unaffected inclination to books. She goes with great thankfulness, to live a plain farmer's life, and wear stuff of her own spinning. I have presented her with a spinning-wheel.” A letter to Prior, dated “Gravesend September 5, 1728,” thus describes the little party on the eve of their departure:—“To-morrow, with God's blessing, I set sail for Rhode Island, with my wife and a friend of hers, my Lady Handcock's daughter, who bears us company. I am married since I saw you to Miss Forster, whose humour and turn of mind pleases me beyond anything that I know in her whole sex. Mr. James15, Mr. Dalton, and Mr. Smibert16 go with us on this voyage. We are now all together at Gravesend, and are engaged in one view.” We are further told17 that they carried stores and goods to a great value, and that the Dean “embarked 20,000 books, besides what the two gentlemen carried. They [pg liv] sailed in September for Rhode Island, where the Dean intends to winter, and to purchase an estate, in order to settle a correspondence and trade between that island and Bermudas.” Berkeley was in his forty-fourth year, when, full of glowing visions of Christian Empire in the West, “Time's noblest offspring,” he left England, on his way to Bermuda, with the promise of Sir Robert Walpole that he should receive the promised grant after he had made an investment. He bought land in America, but he never reached Bermuda.

Towards the end of January, in 1729, the little party, in the “hired ship of 250 tons,” made their appearance in Narragansett Bay, on the western side of Rhode Island. “Blundering about the ocean,” they had touched at Virginia on the way, whence a correspondent, sceptical of the enterprise, informs Lord Percival that the Dean “had dined with the Governor, and visited our College,” but thinks that “when the Dean comes to put his visionary scheme into practice, he will find it no better than a religious frenzy,” and that “he is as much a Don Quixote in zeal as that renowned knight was in chivalry. I wish the good Dean may not find out at last that Waller really kidnapt him over to Bermuda, and that the project he has been drawn into may not prove in every point of it poetical.”

We have a picture of the landing at Newport, on a winter day early in 1729. “Yesterday arrived here Dean Berkeley of Londonderry, in a pretty large ship. He is a gentleman of middle stature, of an agreeable, pleasant, and erect aspect. He was ushered into the town with a great number of gentlemen, to whom he behaved himself after a very complaisant manner. 'Tis said he proposes to tarry here with his family about three months18.” Newport was then a flourishing town, nearly a century old, an emporium of American commerce, in those days the rival of Boston and New York. He was “never more [pg lv] agreeably surprised,” he says, than “at the size of the town and harbour.” Around him was some of the softest rural and grandest ocean scenery in the world, which had fresh charms even for one whose boyhood was spent in the valley of the Nore, who had lingered in the Bay of Naples, and wandered in Inarime and among the mountains of Sicily. He was seventy miles from Boston, and about as far from Newhaven and Yale College. A range of hills crosses the centre of the island, whence meadows slope to the rocky shore. The Gulf Stream tempers the surrounding sea. “The people,” he tells Percival, “are industrious; and though less orthodox have not less virtue, and I am sure they have more regularity, than those I left in Europe. They are indeed a strange medley of different persuasions.” The gentry retained the customs of the squires in England: tradition tells of a cheerful society: the fox chase, with hounds and horses, was a favourite recreation. The society, for so remote a region, was well informed. The family libraries and pictures which remain argue culture and refinement. Smibert, the artist of the missionary party, who had moved to Boston, soon found employment in America, and his pictures still adorn houses in Rhode Island19.

The Dean and his young wife lived in Newport for some months after their arrival. Mr. Honeyman, a missionary of the English Society, had been placed there, in Trinity Church, in 1704. The church is still a conspicuous object from the harbour. Berkeley preached in it three days after his arrival, and occasionally afterwards. Notes of his sermons are included in this edition among his Miscellaneous Works.

In the summer of 1729 he moved from Newport to a quiet valley in the interior of the island, where he [pg lvi] bought a farm, and built a house. In this island-home, named Whitehall, he lived for more than two years—years of domestic happiness, and of resumed study, much interrupted since he left Dublin in 1713. The house may still be seen, a little aside from the road that runs eastward from Newport, about three miles from the town. It is built of wood. The south-west room was probably the library. The ocean is seen in the distance, while orchards and groves offer the shade and silence which soothed the thinker in his recluse life. No invitations of the three companions of his voyage20, who had migrated to Boston, could allure him from this retreat, where he diverted his anxieties about Bermuda by the thoughts which found expression in the dialogues of Alciphron, redolent of Rhode Island and the invigorating breezes of its ocean shore. Tradition tells that much of Alciphron was the issue of meditation in the open air, at a favourite retreat, beneath the Hanging Rocks, which commands an extensive view of the beach and the ocean; and the chair in which he sat in this alcove is still preserved with veneration.

While Berkeley loved domestic quiet at Whitehall21 and the “still air of delightful studies,” he mixed occasionally in the society of Newport. He found it not uncongenial, and soon after he was settled at Whitehall he led the way in forming a club, which held occasional meetings, the germ of the Redwood Library, still a useful Newport institution. His own house was a place of meeting for the New England missionaries.

Soon after his arrival in Rhode Island, Berkeley was visited by the Reverend Samuel Johnson, missionary at Stratford, an acute and independent thinker, one of the two contemporary representatives of philosophy in America. [pg lvii] The other was Jonathan Edwards, at that time Congregational minister at Northampton on the Connecticut river. They had both adopted a conception of the meaning and office of the material world in the economy of existence that was in many respects similar to Berkeley's22. It seems that Berkeley's book of Principles had before this fallen into Johnson's hands. He hastened to visit the author when he heard of his arrival. A succession of visits and a life-long correspondence followed. The “non-existence of Matter,” interpreted as a whimsical and even insane paradox, was found by Johnson to mean the absence of unrealisable Substance behind the real material world that is presented to our senses, and of unrealisable Power in the successive sense-presented appearances of which alone we are percipient. He came to see the real existence of the things of sense in the constant order of the data of sense, through which we gain our knowledge of the existence of our fellow men, and of the omnipresent constant Providence of God; whose Ideas are the true archetypes of the visible world. He adopted and applied this conception with a lucidity and force which give him a high place among American thinkers.

All the while a cloud darkened the recluse life at Whitehall. In June, 1729, Berkeley explains to Percival the circumstances and secrecy of his departure from England:—

“Before I left England I was reduced to a difficult situation. Had I continued there, the report would have obtained (which I had found beginning to spread) that I had dropped the design, after it had cost me and my friends so much trouble and expense. On the other hand, if I had taken leave of my friends, even those who assisted and approved my undertaking would have condemned my coming abroad before the King's bounty was [pg lviii] received. This obliged me to come away in the private manner that I did, and to run the risque of a tedious winter voyage. Nothing less would have convinced the world that I was in earnest, after the report I knew was growing to the contrary.”

Months passed, and Walpole's promise was still unfulfilled. “I wait here,” he tells Lord Percival in March, 1730, “with all the anxiety that attends suspense, until I know what I can depend upon, or what course I am to take. On the one hand I have no notion that the Court would put what men call a bite upon a poor clergyman, who depended upon charters, grants, votes, and the like engagements. On the other hand, I see nothing done towards payment of the money.” Later on he writes—“As for the raillery of European wits, I should not mind it, if I saw my College go on and prosper; but I must own the disappointments I have met with in this particular have nearly touched me, not without affecting my health and spirits. If the founding a College for the spread of religion and learning in America had been a foolish project, it cannot be supposed the Court, the Ministers, and the Parliament would have given such public encouragement to it; and if, after all that encouragement, they who engaged to endow and protect it let it drop, the disappointment indeed may be to me, but the censure, I think, will light elsewhere.”

The suspense was at last ended. Gibson, the Bishop of London, pressed Walpole for a final answer. “If,” he replied, “you put this question to me as a Minister, I must, and can, assure you that the money shall most undoubtedly be paid, as soon as suits with public convenience; but if you ask me as a friend, whether Dean Berkeley should continue in America expecting the payment of twenty thousand pounds, I advise him by all means to return home to Europe, and to give up his present expectations.” It was thus that in 1731 the Prime Minister of England [pg lix] crushed the project conceived ten years before, and to which the intervening period had, under his encouragement, been devoted by the projector with a singular enthusiasm.

A few months after this heavy blow, Berkeley, with his wife, and Henry their infant child, bade farewell to the island home. They sailed from Boston in the late autumn of 1731, and in the following February we find them in London. Thus ended the romantic episode of Rhode Island, with its ideal of Christian civilisation, which so moves the heart and touches the imagination in our retrospect of the eighteenth century. Of all who have ever landed on the American shore, none was ever moved by a purer and more self-sacrificing spirit. America still acknowledges that by Berkeley's visit on this mission it has been invested with the halo of an illustrious name, and associated with religious devotion to a magnificent ideal, even if it was sought to be realised by impracticable means. To reform the New World, and mankind at last, by a College on an island in the Atlantic, six hundred miles from America, the Indians whom it was intended to civilise being mostly in the interior of the continent, and none in Bermuda, was not unnaturally considered Quixotic; and that it was at first supported by the British Court and Parliament is a wonderful tribute to the persuasive genius of the projector. Perhaps he was too much influenced by Lord Percival's idea, that it could not be realised by private benevolence, without the intervention of the Crown. But the indirect influence of Berkeley's American inspiration is apparent in many ways in the intellectual and spiritual life of that great continent, during the last century and a half, especially by the impulse given to academical education. It is the testimony of an American author that, “by methods different from those intended by Berkeley, and in ways more manifold than even he could have dreamed, he has since accomplished, and through all coming time, by a thousand ineffaceable [pg lx] influences, he will continue to accomplish, some portion at least of the results which he had aimed at in the founding of his university. It is the old story over again; the tragedy of a Providence wiser than man's foresight; God giving the victory to His faithful servant even through the bitterness of overruling him and defeating him23.” American Empire, as we now see it with its boundless beneficent influence, is at least an imperfect realisation of Berkeley's dream.

Berkeley's head quarters were in London, in Green Street, for more than two years after the return to England in the beginning of 1732. Extant correspondence with Lord Percival ends in Rhode Island, and our picture of the two years in London is faintly formed by letters to Prior and Johnson. These speak of ill-health, and breathe a less sanguine spirit. The brilliant social life of former visits was less attractive now, even if old friends had remained. But Swift had quitted England for ever, and Steele had followed Addison to the grave. Gay, the common friend of Berkeley and Pope, died soon after the return from Rhode Island, and Arbuthnot was approaching his end at Hampstead. Samuel Clarke had passed away when Berkeley was at Whitehall; but Seeker now held the rectory of St. James's, and Butler was in studious retirement on the Wear; while Pope was at Twickenham, publishing his Essay on Man, receiving visits from Bolingbroke, or visiting Lord Bathurst at Cirencester Park. Queen Caroline, too, was holding her receptions at Kensington; but “those who imagine (as you write),” he tells Prior in January, 1734, “that I have been making my court here all this time, would never believe (what is most true) that I have not been at the Court or at the Minister's but once these seven years. The care of my health and [pg lxi] the love of retirement have prevailed over whatsoever ambition might have come to my share.” There is a hint of a visit to Oxford, at Commemoration in 1733, when his friend Seeker received the honorary degree.

Soon after he had settled in London, the fruit of his studies in Rhode Island was given to the world in the Seven Dialogues of Alciphron, or The Minute Philosopher. Here the philosophical inspiration of his early years is directed to sustain faith in Divine Moral Order, and in the Christian Revelation. Alciphron is the longest, and in literary form perhaps the most finished of his works, unsurpassed in lively strokes of irony and satire. Yet if it is to be regarded as a philosophical justification of religion, as against modern agnosticism, one may incline to the judgment of Mr. Leslie Stephen, that it is “the least admirable of all its author's admirable works.” As we have seen, the sect of free-thinkers was early the object of Berkeley's ridicule and sarcasm. They claimed for themselves wide intellectual vision, yet they were blind to the deep realities of the universe; they took exclusive credit for freedom of thought, although their thinking was confined within the narrow compass of our data in sense. The book of Principles, the Dialogues, and the De Motu of his early years, were designed to bring into clear light the absolute dependence of the world that is presented to our senses on Omnipresent Spirit; and the necessary subjection of all changes in our surroundings to the immediate agency or providence of God. Boasted “free-thinking” was really a narrow atheism, so he believed, in which meaningless Matter usurped the place that belonged in reason to God, and he employed reason to disclose Omnipotent Intelligence in and behind the phenomena that are presented to the senses in impotent natural sequence.

The causes of the widespread moral corruption of the Old World, which had moved Berkeley so profoundly, [pg lxii] seem to have been pondered anew during his recluse life in Rhode Island. The decline of morals was explained by the deification of Matter: consequent life of sensuous pleasure accounted for decay of religion. That vice is hurtful was argued by free-thinkers like Mandeville to be a vulgar error, and a fallacious demonstration was offered of its utility. That virtue is intrinsically beautiful was taught by Shaftesbury; but Berkeley judged the abstract beauty, with which “minute philosophers” were contented, unfit to move ordinary human beings to self-sacrificing action; for this involves devotion to a Perfect Person by whom goodness is finally distributed. Religion alone inspires the larger and higher life, in presenting distributive justice personified on the throne of the universe, instead of abstract virtue.

The turning-point in Alciphron is in man's vision of God. This is pressed in the Fourth Dialogue. The free-thinker asserts that “the notion of a Deity, or some invisible power, is of all prejudices the most unconquerable; the most signal example of belief without reason for believing.” He demands proof—“such proof as every man of sense requires of a matter of fact.... Should a man ask, why I believe there is a king of Great Britain? I might answer, Because I had seen him. Or a king of Spain? Because I had seen those who saw him. But as for this King of kings, I neither saw Him myself, nor any one else that ever did see Him.” To which Euphranor replies, “What if it should appear that God really speaks to man; would this content you? What if it shall appear plainly that God speaks to men by the intervention and use of arbitrary, outward, sensible signs, having no resemblance or necessary connexion with the things they stand for and suggest; if it shall appear that, by innumerable combinations of these signs, an endless variety of things is discovered and made known to us; and that we are thereby instructed or informed in their different natures; that we are taught [pg lxiii] and admonished what to shun and what to pursue; and are directed how to regulate our motions, and how to act with respect to things distant from us, as well in time as place: will this content you?” Euphranor accordingly proceeds to shew that Visible Nature is a Language, in which the Universal Power that is continually at work is speaking to us all, in a way similar to that in which our fellow men speak to us; so that we have as much (even more) reason to believe in the existence of the Universal Person who is the Speaker, as we have to believe in the existence of persons around us; who become known to us, when they too employ sense-symbols, in the words and actions by which we discover that we are not alone in the universe. For men are really living spirits: their bodies are only the sign of their spiritual personality. And it is so with God, who is also revealed in the visible world as a Spirit. “In a strict sense,” says Euphranor, “I do not see Alciphron, but only such visible signs and tokens as suggest and infer the being of that invisible thinking principle or soul. Even so, in the self-same manner, it seems to me that, though I cannot with eyes of flesh behold the invisible God, yet I do, in the strictest sense, behold and perceive, by all my senses, such signs and tokens ... as suggest, indicate, and demonstrate an invisible God as certainly, and with the same evidence, at least, as any other signs, perceived by sense, do suggest to me the existence of your soul, spirit, or thinking principle; which I am convinced of only by a few signs or effects, and the motions of one small organised body; whereas I do, at all times, and in all places, perceive sensible signs which evince the being of God.” In short, God is the living Soul of the Universe; as you and I are the living souls that keep our bodies and their organs in significant motion. We can interpret the character of God in the history of the universe, even as we can interpret the [pg lxiv] character of our neighbour by observing his words and outward actions.

This overwhelmed Alciphron. “You stare to find that God is not far from any one of us, and that in Him we live and move and have our being,” rejoins Euphranor. “You who, in the beginning of this conference, thought it strange that God should leave Himself without a witness, do now think it strange the witness should be so full and clear.” “I must own I do,” was the reply. “I never imagined it could be pretended that we saw God with our fleshly eyes, as plain as we see any human person whatsoever, and that He daily speaks to our senses in a manifest and clear dialect.”

Although this reasoning satisfied Alciphron, others may think it inconclusive. How one is able to discover the existence of other persons, and even the meaning of finite personality, are themselves questions full of speculative difficulty. But, waiving this, the analogy between the relation of a human spirit to its body, and that of the Omnipresent and Omnipotent Spirit to the Universe of things and persons, fails in several respects. God is supposed to be continually creating the world by constant and continuous Providence, and His Omniscience is supposed to comprehend all its concrete relations: a man's body is not absolutely dependent on the man's own power and providence; and even his scientific knowledge of it, in itself and in its relations, is scanty and imperfect, as his power over it is limited and conditioned. Then the little that a man gradually learns of what is going on in the surrounding universe is dependent on his senses: Omniscience comprehends Immensity and Eternity (so we suppose) in a single intuition. Our bodies, moreover, are visible things: the universe, this organism of God, is crowded with persons, to whom there is nothing corresponding within the organism which reveals one man to another.

But this is not all. After Euphranor has found that the Universal Power is Universal Spirit, this is still an inadequate [pg lxv] God; for what we want to know is what sort of Spirit God is. Is God omnipotent or of limited power, regarded ethically, fair or unfair in His treatment of persons; good or evil, according to the highest yet attained conception of goodness; a God of love, or a devil omnipotent? I infer the character of my neighbour from his words and actions, patent to sense in the gradual outward evolution of his life. I am asked to infer the character of the Omnipresent Spirit from His words and actions, manifested in the universe of things and persons. But we must not attribute to the Cause more than it reveals of itself in its effects. God and men alike are known by the effects they produce. The Universal Power is, on this condition, righteous, fair, and loving to the degree in which those conceptions are implied in His visible embodiment: to affirm more or other than this, on the basis of analogy alone, is either to indulge in baseless conjecture, or to submit blindly to dogma and authority.

Now the universe, as far as it comes within the range of human experience on this planet, is full of suffering and moral disorder. The “religious hypothesis” of a perfectly righteous and benevolent God is here offered to account for the appearances which the universe presents to us. But do these signify exact distributive justice? Is not visible nature apparently cruel and unrelenting? If we infer cruelty in the character of a man, because his bodily actions cause undeserved suffering, must we not, by this analogy, infer in like manner regarding the character of the Supreme Spirit, manifested in the progressive evolution of the universal organism?

We find it impossible to determine with absolute certainty the character even of our fellow men, from their imperfectly interpreted words and actions, so that each man is more or less a mystery to his fellows. The mystery deepens when we try to read the character of animals,—to interpret the motives which determine the overt acts [pg lxvi] of dogs or horses. And if we were able to communicate by visible signs with the inhabitants of other planets, with how much greater difficulty should we draw conclusions from their visible acts regarding their character? But if this is so when we use the data of sense for reading the character of finite persons, how infinite must be the difficulty of reading the character of the Eternal Spirit, in and through the gradual evolution of the universe of things and persons, which in this reasoning is supposed to be His body; and the history of that universe the facts of His biography, in and by which He is eternally revealing Himself! For we know nothing about the unbeginning and unending. The universe of persons is assumed to have no end; and I know not why its evolution must be supposed to have had a beginning, or that there ever was a time in which God was unmanifested, to finite persons.

Shall we in these circumstances turn with Euphranor, in the Fifth and Sixth Dialogues, to professed revelation of the character of the Universal Mind presented in miraculous revelation, by inspired prophets and apostles, who are brought forward as authorities able to speak infallibly to the character of God? If the whole course of nature, or endless evolution of events, is the Divine Spirit revealed in omnipresent activity, what room is there for any other less regular revelation? The universe of common experience, it is implied by Berkeley, is essentially miraculous, and therefore absolutely perfect. Is it consistent with fairness, and benevolence, and love of goodness in all moral agents for its own sake, that the Christian revelation should have been so long delayed, and be still so incompletely made known? Is not the existence of wicked persons on this or any other planet, wicked men or devils, a dark spot in the visible life of God? Does not perfect goodness in God mean restoration of goodness in men, for its own sake, apart from their merit; and must not Omnipotent Goodness, infinitely opposite to all evil, either [pg lxvii] convert to goodness all beings in the universe who have made themselves bad, or else relieve the universe of their perpetual presence in ever-increasing wickedness?

Sceptical criticism of this sort has found expression in the searching minute philosophy of a later day than Berkeley's and Alciphron's; as in David Hume and Voltaire, and in the agnosticism of the nineteenth century. Was not Euphranor too ready to yield to the demand for a visible God, whose character had accordingly to be determined by what appears in nature and man, under the conditions of our limited and contingent experience? Do we not need to look below data of sensuous experience, and among the presuppositions which must consciously or unconsciously be taken for granted in all man's dealings with the environment in which he finds himself, for the root of trustworthy experience? On merely physical reasoning, like that of Euphranor, the righteous love of God is an unwarranted inference, and it even seems to be contradicted by visible facts presented in the history of the world. But if Omnipotent Goodness must a priori be attributed to the Universal Mind, as an indispensable condition for man's having reliable intercourse of any sort with nature; if this is the primary postulate necessary to the existence of truth of any kind—then the “religious hypothesis” that God is Good, according to the highest conception of goodness, is no groundless fancy, but the fundamental faith-venture in which man has to live. It must stand in reason; unless it can be demonstrated that the mixture of good and evil which the universe presents, necessarily contradicts this fundamental presupposition: and if so, man is lost in pessimistic Pyrrhonism, and can assert nothing about anything24.

The religious altruism, however inadequate, which [pg lxviii] Berkeley offered in Alciphron made some noise at the time of its appearance, although its theistic argument was too subtle to be popular. The conception of the visible world as Divine Visual Language was “received with ridicule by those who make ridicule the test of truth,” although it has made way since. “I have not seen Dean Berkeley,” Gay the poet writes to Swift in the May following the Dean's return, and very soon after the appearance of Alciphron, “but I have been reading his book, and like many parts of it; but in general think with you that it is too speculative.” Warburton, with admiration for Berkeley, cannot comprehend his philosophy, and Hoadley shewed a less friendly spirit. A Letter from a Country Clergyman, attributed to Lord Hervey, the “Sporus” of Pope, was one of several ephemeral attacks which the Minute Philosopher encountered in the year after its appearance. Three other critics, more worthy of consideration, are mentioned in one of Berkeley's letters from London to his American friend Johnson at Stratford: “As to the Bishop of Cork's book, and the other book you allude to, the author of which is one Baxter, they are both very little considered here; for which reason I have taken no public notice of them. To answer objections already answered, and repeat the same things, is a needless as well as disagreeable task. Nor should I have taken notice of that Letter about Vision, had it not been printed in a newspaper, which gave it course, and spread it through the kingdom. Besides, the theory of Vision I found was somewhat obscure to most people; for which reason I was not displeased at an opportunity to explain it25.” The explanation was given in The Theory of Visual Language Vindicated, in January, 1733, as a supplement to Alciphron. Its blot is a tone of polemical bitterness directed against Shaftesbury26.

[pg lxix]

Although Berkeley “took no public notice” of “the Bishop of Cork's book27” it touched a great question, which periodically has awakened controversy, and been the occasion of mutual misunderstanding among the controversialists in past ages. “Is God knowable by man; or must religion be devotion to an object that is unknowable?” In one of his first letters to Lord Percival, as we saw, Berkeley animadverted on a sermon by the Archbishop of Dublin, which seemed to deny that there was goodness, or understanding God, any more than feet or hands. An opinion somewhat similar had been attributed to Bishop Browne, in his answer to Toland, and afterwards in 1728, in his Procedure and Limits of Human Understanding.

This touched to the quick Berkeley's ultimate conception of the universe, as realisable only in, and therefore necessarily dependent on, living mind. We are reminded of the famous analogy of Spinoza28. If the omnipresent and omnipotent Mind, on which Euphranor rested, can be called “mind” only metaphorically, and can be called “good” only when the term is used without human meaning, it may seem to be a matter of indifference whether we have unknowable Matter or unknowable Mind at the root of things and persons. Both are empty words. The Power universally at work is equally unintelligible, equally unfit to be the object of worship in the final venture of faith, whether we use the term Matter or the term Mind. [pg lxx] The universe is neither explained nor sustained by a “mind” that is mind only metaphorically. To call this “God” is to console us with an empty abstraction. The minutest philosopher is ready to grant with Alciphron that “there is a God in this indefinite sense”; since nothing can be inferred from such an account of God about conduct or religion.

The Bishop of Cork replied to the strictures of Euphranor in the Minute Philosopher. He qualified and explained his former utterances in some two hundred dull pages of his Divine Analogy, which hardly touch the root of the matter. The question at issue is the one which underlies modern agnosticism. It was raised again in Britain in the nineteenth century, with deeper insight, by Sir William Hamilton; followed by Dean Mansel, in controversy with F. D. Maurice, at the point of view of Archbishop King and Bishop Browne, in philosophical vindication of the mysteries of Christian faith; by Mr. Herbert Spencer and by Huxley in a minute philosophy that has been deepened by Hume's criticism of the rationale of theism in Berkeley29.

Andrew Baxter's Inquiry into the Nature of the Human Soul, referred to in Berkeley's letter to Johnson, appeared in 1733. It has a chapter on “Dean Berkeley's Scheme against the existence of Matter and a Material World,” which is worthy of mention because it is the earliest elaborate criticism of the New Principle, although it had then been before the world for more than twenty years. The title of the chapter shews Baxter's imperfect comprehension of the proposition which he attempts to refute. It suggests [pg lxxi] that Berkeley argued for the non-existence of the things we see and touch, instead of for their necessary dependence on, or subordination to, realising percipient Mind, so far as they are concrete realities. Baxter, moreover, was a Scot; and his criticism is interesting as a foretaste of the protracted discussion of the “ideal theory” by Reid and his friends, and later on by Hamilton. But Baxter's book was not the first sign of Berkeley's influence in Scotland. We are told by Dugald Stewart, that “the novelty of Berkeley's paradox attracted very powerfully the attention of a set of young men who were then prosecuting their studies at Edinburgh, who formed themselves into a Society for the express purpose of soliciting from him an explanation of some parts of his theory which seemed to them obscurely or equivocally expressed. To this correspondence the amiable and excellent prelate seems to have given every encouragement; and I have been told on the best authority that he was accustomed to say that his reasoning had been nowhere better understood than by this club of young Scotsmen30.” Thus, and afterwards through Hume and Reid, Berkeley is at the root of philosophy in Scotland.

The two years of indifferent health and authorship in London sum up what may be called the American period of Berkeley's life. Early in 1734 letters to Prior open a new vista in his history. He was nominated to the bishopric of Cloyne in the south of Ireland, and we have now to follow him to the remote region which was his home for eighteen years. The interest of the philosophic Queen, and perhaps some compensation for the Bermuda disappointment, may explain the appearance of the metaphysical and social idealist in the place where he shone as a star of the first magnitude in the Irish Church of the eighteenth century.

III. Later Years (1734-53).

In May, 1734, Berkeley was consecrated as Bishop of Cloyne, in St. Paul's Church, Dublin. Except occasional visits, he had been absent from Ireland for more than twenty years. He returned to spend eighteen years of almost unbroken seclusion in his remote diocese. It suited a growing inclination to a recluse, meditative life, which had been encouraged by circumstances in Rhode Island. The eastern and northern part in the county of Cork formed his diocese, bounded on the west by Cork harbour, and on the east by the beautiful Blackwater and the mountains of Waterford; the sea, which was its southern boundary, approached within two miles of the episcopal residence in the village of Cloyne.

As soon as he was settled, he resumed study “with unabated attention,” but still with indifferent health. Travelling had become irksome to him, and at Cloyne he was almost as much removed as he had been in Rhode Island from the thinking world. Cork took the place of Newport; but Cork was twenty miles from Cloyne, while Newport was only three miles from Whitehall. His episcopal neighbour at Cork was Bishop Browne, the critic of Alciphron. Isaac Gervais, afterwards Dean of Tuam, often enlivened the “manse-house” at Cloyne by his wit and intercourse with the great world. Secker, the Bishop of Bristol, and Benson, the Bishop of Gloucester, now and then exchanged letters with him, and correspondence was kept up as of old with Prior at Dublin and Johnson at Stratford. But there is no trace of intercourse with Swift, who was wearing out an unhappy old age, or with Pope, almost the only survivor of the brilliant society of other years. We are told, indeed, that the beauty of Cloyne [pg lxxiii] was so described to the bard of Twickenham, by the pen which in former days had described Ischia, that Pope was almost moved to visit it. And a letter from Secker in February, 173531, contains this scrap: “Your friend Mr. Pope is publishing small poems every now and then, full of much wit and not a little keenness32.” “Our common friend, Dr. Butler,” he adds, “hath almost completed a set of speculations upon the credibility of religion from its analogy to the constitution and course of nature, which I believe in due time you will read with pleasure.” Butler's Analogy appeared in the following year. But I have found no remains of correspondence between Berkeley and their “common friend”; the two most illustrious religious thinkers of the Anglican communion.

When he left London in 1734 Berkeley was on the eve of what sounded like a mathematical controversy, although it was in his intention metaphysical, and was suggested by the Seventh Dialogue in Alciphron. In one of his letters to Prior, early in that year, he told him that though he “could not read, owing to ill health,” yet his thought was as distinct as ever, and that for amusement “he passed his early hours in thinking of certain mathematical matters which may possibly produce something33.” This turned, it seems, upon a form of scepticism among contemporary mathematicians, occasioned by the presence of mysteries of religion. The Analyst was the issue. It was followed [pg lxxiv] by a controversy in which some of the most eminent mathematicians took part. Mathematica exeunt in mysteria might have been the motto of the Analyst. The assumptions in mathematics, it is argued, are as mysterious as those of theologians and metaphysicians. Mathematicians cannot translate into perfectly intelligible thought their own doctrines in fluxions. If man's knowledge of God is rooted in mystery, so too is mathematical analysis. Pure science at last loses itself in propositions which usefully regulate action, but which cannot be comprehended. This is the drift of the argument in the Analyst; but perhaps Berkeley's inclination to extreme conclusions, and to what is verbally paradoxical, led him into doubtful positions in the controversy to which the Analyst gave rise. Instead of ultimate imperfect comprehensibility, he seems to attribute absolute contradiction to the Newtonian fluxions. Baxter, in his Inquiry, had asserted that things in Berkeley's book of Principles forced the author “to suspect that even mathematics may not be very sound knowledge at the bottom.” The metaphysical argument of the Analyst was obscured in a cloud of mathematics.

The social condition of Ireland attracted Berkeley almost as soon as he was settled in Cloyne. He was surrounded by a large native Irish population and a small group of English colonists. The natives, long governed in the interest of the stranger, had never learned to exert and govern themselves. The self-reliance which Berkeley preached fifteen years before, as a mean for “preventing the ruin of Great Britain,” was more wanting in Ireland, where the simplest maxims of social economy were neglected. It was a state of things fitted to move one who was too independent to permit his aspirations to be confined to the ordinary routine of the Irish episcopate, and who could not forget the favourite moral maxim of his life.

The social chaos of Ireland was the occasion of what [pg lxxv] to some may be the most interesting of Berkeley's writings. His thoughts found vent characteristically in a series of penetrating practical queries. The First Part of the Querist appeared in 1735, anonymously, edited by Dr. Madden of Dublin, who along with Prior had lately founded a Society for promoting industrial arts in Ireland. The Second and Third Parts were published in the two following years. A Discourse to Magistrates occasioned by the Enormous Licence and Irreligion of the Times, which appeared in 1736, was another endeavour, with like philanthropic intention. And the only important break in his secluded life at Cloyne, in eighteen years of residence, was when he went for some months to Dublin in 1737, to render social service to Ireland in the Irish House of Lords.

His metaphysic, at first encountered by ridicule, was now beginning to receive more serious treatment. A Scotsman had already recognised it. In 1739 another and more famous Scotsman, David Hume, refers thus to Berkeley in one of the opening sections of his Treatise of Human Nature: “A very material question has been started concerning abstract or general ideas—whether they be general or particular in the mind's conception of them. A great philosopher, Dr. Berkeley, has disputed the received opinion in this particular, and has asserted that all general ideas are nothing but particular ones, annexed to a certain term which gives them a more extensive signification, and makes them recall upon occasion other individuals which are similar to them. I look upon this to be one of the greatest and most valuable discoveries that has been made of late years in the republic of letters.” It does not appear that Berkeley heard of Hume.

A curious interest began to engage him about this time. The years following 1739 were years of suffering in the [pg lxxvi] Irish diocese. It was a time of famine followed by widespread disease. His correspondence is full of allusions to this. It had consequences of lasting importance. Surrounded by disease, he pondered remedies. Experience in Rhode Island and among American Indians suggested the healing properties of tar. Further experiments in tar, combined with meditation and much curious reading, deepened and expanded his metaphysical philosophy. Tar seemed to grow under his experiments, and in his thoughts, into a Panacea for giving health to the organism on which living mind in man is meanwhile dependent. This natural dependence of health upon tar introduced thoughts of the interdependence of all things, and then of the immediate dependence of all in nature upon Omnipresent and Omnipotent Mind. The living Mind that underlies the phenomena of the universe began to be conceived under a new light. Since his return to the life of thought in Rhode Island, he had been immersed in Platonic and Neoplatonic literature, and in books of mystical Divinity, encouraged perhaps by the mystical disposition attributed to his wife. An eccentric ingenuity connected the scientific experiments and prescriptions with the Idealism of Plato and Plotinus. The natural law according to which tar-water was universally restorative set his mind to work about the immanence of living Mind. He mused about a medicine thus universally beneficial, and the thought occurred that it must be naturally charged with 'pure invisible fire, the most subtle and elastic of bodies, and the vital element in the universe'; and water might be the natural cause which enables this elementary fire to be drawn out of tar and transferred to vegetable and animal organisms. But the vital fire could be only a natural cause; which in truth is no efficient cause at all, but only a sign of divine efficiency transmitted through the world of sense: the true cause of this and all other natural effects must be the immanent Mind or Reason in which [pg lxxvii] we all participate; for in God we live and move and have our being.

It is thus that Berkeley's thought culminates in Siris, that Chain of Philosophical Reflexions and Inquiries concerning the Virtues of Tar-water, and divers other subjects connected together and arising one from another, which appeared in 1744. This little book made more noise at the time of its appearance than any of his books; but not because of its philosophy, which was lost in its medicinal promise to mankind of immunity from disease. Yet it was Berkeley's last attempt to express his ultimate conception of the universe in its human and divine relations. When Siris is compared with the book of Principles, the immense difference in tone and manner of thought shews the change wrought in the intervening years. The sanguine argumentative gladiatorship of the Principles is exchanged for pensive speculation, which acknowledges the weakness of human understanding, when it is face to face with the Immensities and Eternities. Compare the opening sections of the Introduction to the Principles with the closing sections of Siris. The contingent data of our experience are now felt to be insufficient, and there is a more or less conscious grounding of the Whole in the eternal and immutable Ideas of Reason. “Strictly, the sense knows nothing. We perceive, indeed, sounds by hearing and characters by sight. But we are not therefore said to understand them.... Sense and experience acquaint us with the course and analogy of appearances and natural effects: thought, reason, intellect, introduce us into the knowledge of their causes.... The principles of science are neither objects of sense nor imagination: intellect and reason are alone the sure guides to truth.” So the shifting basis of the earlier thought is found to need support in the intellectual and moral faith that must be involved in all reasonable human intercourse with the phenomena presented in the universe.

[pg lxxviii]

The inadequate thought of God, as only a Spirit or Person supreme among the spirits or persons, in and through whom the material world is realised, a thought which pervades Alciphron, makes way in Siris for the thought of God as the infinite omnipresent Ground, or final sustaining Power, immanent in Nature and Man, to which Berkeley had become accustomed in Neoplatonic and Alexandrian metaphysics. “Comprehending God and the creatures in One general notion, we may say that all things together (God and the universe of Space and Time) make One Universe, or τὸ Πᾶν. But if we should say that all things make One God, this would be an erroneous notion of God; but would not amount to atheism, as long as Mind or Intellect was admitted to be τὸ ἡγεμονικόν, or the governing part.... It will not seem just to fix the imputation of atheism upon those philosophers who hold the doctrine of τὸ Ἕν.” It is thus that he now regards God. Metaphysics and theology are accordingly one.

No attempt is made in Siris to articulate the universe in the light of unifying Mind or Reason. And we are still apt to ask what the truth and goodness at the heart of all really mean; seeing that, as conceived in human minds, they vary in the gradual evolution of intellect and conscience in men. Omnia exeunt in mysteria is the tone of Siris at the end. The universe of reality is too much for our articulate intellectual digestion: it must be left for omniscience; it transcends finite intelligence and the via media of human understanding. Man must be satisfied to pass life, in the infinitesimal interval between birth and death, as a faith-venture, which he may convert into a growing insight, as the generations roll on, but which can never be converted into complete knowledge. “In this state we must be satisfied to make the best of those glimpses within our reach. It is Plato's remark in his Theætetus, that while we sit still we are never the wiser; but going into the river, and moving up and down, [pg lxxix] is the way to discover its depths and shallows. If we exercise and bestir ourselves, we may even here discover something. The eye by long use comes to see even in the darkest cavern; and there is no subject so obscure but we may discern some glimpse of truth by long poring on it. Truth is the cry of all, but the game of a few. Certainly where it is the chief passion it doth not give way to vulgar cares and views; nor is it contented with a little ardour in the early time of life: a time perhaps to pursue, but not so fit to weigh and revise. He that would make a real progress in knowledge must dedicate his age as well as his youth, the later growth as well as the first-fruits, at the altar of Truth.” Such was Berkeley, and such were his last words in philosophy. They may suggest the attitude of Bacon when, at a different view-point, he disclaims exhaustive system: “I have made a beginning of the work: the fortune of the human race will give the issue. For the matter in hand is no mere felicity of speculation, but the real business and fortunes of the human race34.”

While Berkeley's central thought throughout his life is concerned with God as the one omnipresent and omnipotent Providential Agent in the universe, he says little about the other final question, of more exclusively human interest, which concerns the destiny of men. That men are born into a universe which, as the visible expression of Moral Providence, must be scientifically and ethically trustworthy; certain not to put man to confusion intellectually or morally, seeing that it could not otherwise be trusted for such in our ultimate venture of faith—this is one thing. That all persons born into it are certain to continue living self-consciously for ever, is another thing. This is not obviously implied in the former presupposition, whether or not it can be deduced [pg lxxx] from it, or else discovered by other means. Although man's environment is essentially Divine, and wholly in its smallest details Providential, may not his body, in its living organisation from physical birth until physical death, be the measure of the continuance of his self-conscious personality? Is each man's immortal existence, like God's, indispensable?

Doubt about the destiny of men after they die is, at the end of the nineteenth century, probably more prevalent than doubt about the underlying Providence of God, and His constant creative activity; more perhaps than it was in the days of Toland, and Collins, and Tindal. Future life had been made so familiar to the imagination by the early and mediaeval Church, and afterwards by the Puritans, as in Milton, Bunyan, and Jonathan Edwards, that it then seemed to the religious mind more real than anything that is seen and touched. The habit wholly formed by natural science is apt to dissipate this and to make a human life lived under conditions wholly strange to its “minute philosophy” appear illusory.

A section in the book of Principles35 in which the common argument for the “natural immortality” of the human soul is reproduced, strengthened by his new conception of what the reality of body means, is Berkeley's metaphysical contribution for determining between the awful alternatives of annihilation or continued self-conscious life after physical death. The subject is touched, in a less recondite way, in two of his papers in the Guardian, and in the Discourse delivered in Trinity College Chapel in 1708, in which a revelation of the immortality of men is presented as the special gospel of Jesus Christ. To argue, as Berkeley does in the Principles, that men cannot be annihilated at death, because they are spiritual substances having powers independent of the sequences of nature, implies assumptions regarding finite persons which are [pg lxxxi] open to criticism. The justification in reason for our venture of faith that Omnipotent Goodness is at the heart of the universe is—that without this presupposition we can have no reasonable intercourse, scientific or otherwise, with the world of things and persons in which we find ourselves; for reason and will are then alike paralysed by universal distrust. But it can hardly be maintained a priori that men, or other spiritual beings in the universe, are equally with God indispensable to its natural order; so that when they have once entered on conscious existence they must always continue to exist consciously. Is not the philosophical justification of man's hope of endless life ethical rather than metaphysical; founded on that faith in the justice and goodness of the Universal Mind which has to be taken for granted in every attempt to interpret experience, with its mixture of good and evil, in this evanescent embodied life? Can a life such as this is be all for men, in a universe that, because it is essentially Divine, must operate towards the extinction of the wickedness which now makes it a mystery of Omnipotent Goodness?

A cheerful optimism appears in Berkeley's habit of thought about death, as we have it in his essays in the Guardian: a sanguine apprehension of a present preponderance of good, and consequent anticipation of greater good after death; unlike those whose pessimistic temperament induces a lurid picture of eternal moral disorder. But his otherwise active imagination seldom makes philosophy a meditation upon death. He does not seem to have exercised himself in the way those do who find in the prospect of being in the twenty-first century as they were in the first, what makes them appalled that they have ever come at all into transitory percipient life; or as those others who recoil from an unbodied life after physical death, as infinitely more appalling than the thought of being transported in this body into another planet, or [pg lxxxii] even to a material world outside our solar system. In one of his letters to Johnson36 he does approach the unbodied life, and in a characteristic way:—

“I see no difficulty in conceiving a change of state, such as is vulgarly called death, as well without as with material substance. It is sufficient for that purpose that we allow sensible bodies, i.e. such as are immediately perceived by sight and touch; the existence of which I am so far from questioning, as philosophers are used to do, that I establish it, I think, upon evident principles. Now it seems very easy to conceive the soul to exist in a separate state (i.e. divested from those limits and laws of motion and perception with which she is embarrassed here) and to exercise herself on new ideas, without the intervention of these tangible things we call bodies. It is even very possible to apprehend how the soul may have ideas of colour without an eye, or of sounds without an ear37.”

But while we may thus be supposed to have all our present sensuous experience in an unbodied state, this does not enable one to conceive how unbodied persons can communicate with one another in the absence of all sense signs; whether of the sort derived from our present senses, or from other senses of whose data we can in this life have no imagination.

Berkeley's tar-water enthusiasm lasted throughout the rest of his life, and found vent in letters and pamphlets in support of his Panacea, from 1744 till 1752. Notwithstanding this, he was not forgetful of other interests—ecclesiastical, and the social ones which he included in his large meaning of “ecclesiastical.” The Rising under Charles Edward in 1745 was the occasion of a Letter to the Roman Catholics of Cloyne, characteristically humane [pg lxxxiii] and liberal. It was followed in 1749 by an Exhortation to the Roman Catholic Clergy of Ireland in a similar spirit; and this unwonted courtesy of an Irish Protestant bishop was received by those to whom it was addressed in a corresponding temper.

It is difficult to determine Berkeley's relation to rival schools or parties in Church and State. His disposition was too singular and independent for a partisan. Some of his early writings, as we have seen, were suspected of high Tory and Jacobite leanings; but his arguments in the suspected Discourse were such as ordinary Tories and Jacobites failed to understand, and the tenor of his words and actions was in the best sense liberal. In religious thought Siris might place him among latitudinarians; perhaps in affinity with the Cambridge Platonists. His true place is foremost among the religious philosophers of the Anglican Church; the first to prepare the religious problem for the light in which we are invited to look at the universe by modern agnostics, and under the modern conception of natural evolution. He is the most picturesque figure in that Anglican succession which, in the seventeenth century, includes Hooker and Cudworth; in the eighteenth, Clarke and Butler; and in the nineteenth, may we say Coleridge, in lack of a representative in orders; although Mansel, Maurice, Mozley, and Jowett are not to be forgotten, nor Isaac Taylor among laymen38: Newman and Arnold, illustrious otherwise, are hardly representatives of metaphysical philosophy.

A more pensive tone runs through the closing years at Cloyne. Attempts were made in vain to withdraw him from the “remote corner” to which he had been so long confined. His friends urged his claims for the Irish Primacy. “I am no man's rival or competitor in this matter,” were his words to Prior. “I am not in love with feasts, [pg lxxxiv] and crowds, and visits, and late hours, and strange faces, and a hurry of affairs often insignificant. For my own private satisfaction, I had rather be master of my time than wear a diadem.” Letters to his American friends, Johnson and Clap, shew him still moved by the inspiration which carried him over the Atlantic, and record his influence in the development of American colleges39. The home education of his three sons was another interest. We are told by his widow that “he would not trust his sons to mercenary hands. Though old and sickly, he performed the constant tedious task himself.” Of the fruit of this home education there is little to tell. The death of William, his favourite boy, in 1751, “was thought to have struck too close to his father's heart.” “I am a man,” so he writes, “retired from the amusements, politics, visits, and what the world calls pleasure. I had a little friend, educated always under mine own eye, whose painting delighted me, whose music ravished me, and whose lively gay spirit was a continual feast. It has pleased God to take him hence.” The eldest son, Henry, born in Rhode Island, did not long survive his father. George, the third son, was destined for Oxford, and this destiny was connected with a new project. The “life academico-philosophical,” which he sought in vain to realise in Bermuda, he now hoped to find for himself in the city of colleges on the Isis. “The truth is,” he wrote to Prior as early as September 1746, “I have a scheme of my own for this long time past, in which I propose more satisfaction and enjoyment to myself than I could in that high station40, which I neither solicited, nor so much as wished for. A greater income would not tempt me to remove from Cloyne, and set aside my Oxford scheme; which, though delayed by the illness of my son41, yet I am as intent upon it and as much resolved as ever.”

[pg lxxxv]

The last of Berkeley's letters which we have is to Dean Gervais. It expresses the feeling with which in April, 1752, he was contemplating life, on the eve of his departure from Cloyne.

“I submit to years and infirmities. My views in this world are mean and narrow; it is a thing in which I have small share, and which ought to give me small concern. I abhor business, and especially to have to do with great persons and great affairs. The evening of life I choose to pass in a quiet retreat. Ambitious projects, intrigues and quarrels of statesmen, are things I have formerly been amused with, but they now seem to be a vain, fugitive dream.”

Four months after this, Berkeley saw Cloyne for the last time. In August he quitted it for Oxford, which he had long pictured in imagination as the ideal home of his old age. When he left Cork in the vessel which carried his wife, his daughter, and himself to Bristol, he was prostrated by weakness, and had to be taken from Bristol to Oxford on a horse-litter. It was late in August when they arrived there42.

Our picture of Berkeley at Oxford is dim. According to tradition he occupied a house in Holywell Street, near the gardens of New College and not far from the cloisters of Magdalen. It was a changed world to him. While he was exchanging Ireland for England, death was removing old English friends. Before he left Cloyne he must have heard of the death of Butler in June, at Bath, where Benson, at the request of Secker, affectionately watched the last hours of the author of the Analogy. Benson followed Butler in August.

[pg lxxxvi]

We hear of study resumed in improved health in the home in Holy well Street. In October a Miscellany, containing several Tracts on various Subjects, “by the Bishop of Cloyne,” appeared simultaneously in London and Dublin. The Tracts were reprints, with the exception of Further Thoughts on Tar-water, which may have been written before he left Ireland. The third edition of Alciphron also appeared in this autumn. But Siris is the latest record of his philosophical thought. A comparison of the Commonplace Book and the Principles with the Analyst and Siris gives the measure of his advancement. After the sanguine beginning perhaps the comparison leaves a sense of disappointment, when we find metaphysics mixed up with mathematics in the Analyst, and metaphysics obscurely mixed up with medicine in Siris.

It is curious that, although in 1752 David Hume's Treatise of Human Nature had been before the world for thirteen years and his Inquiry concerning Human Understanding for four years, there is no allusion to Hume by Berkeley. He was Berkeley's immediate successor in the eighteenth-century evolution of European thought. The sceptical criticism of Hume was applied to the dogmatic religious philosophy of Berkeley, to be followed in its turn by the abstractly rational and the moral reconstructive criticism of Kant. Alciphron is, however, expressly referred to by Hume; indirectly, too, throughout the religious agnosticism of his Inquiry, also afterwards in the Dialogues on Natural Religion, in a vindication of minute philosophy by profounder reasonings than those which satisfied Lysicles and Alciphron. Berkeley, Hume, and Kant are the three significant philosophical figures of their century, each holding the supreme place successively in its beginning, middle, and later years. Perhaps Reid in Scotland did more than any other in his generation to make Berkeley known; not, however, for his true work in constructive [pg lxxxvii] religious thought, but for his supposed denial of the reality of the things we see and touch.43

The ideal life in Oxford did not last long. On the evening of Sunday, January 14, 1753, Berkeley was suddenly confronted by the mystery of death. “As he was sitting with my mother, my sister, and myself,” so his son wrote to Johnson at Stratford, in October, “suddenly, and without the least previous notice or pain, he was removed to the enjoyment of eternal rewards; and although all possible means were instantly used, no symptom of life ever appeared after; nor could the physicians assign any cause for his death. He arrived at Oxford on August 25, and had received great benefit from the change of air, and by God's blessing on tar-water, insomuch that for some years he had not been in better health than he was the instant before he left us44.”

Six days later he was buried in Oxford, in the Cathedral of Christ Church45, where his tomb bears an appropriate inscription by Dr. Markham, afterwards Archbishop of York.

Vol. I

Page 99, line 3 for 149-80 read 149-60.

Page 99, line 22 for—and to be “suggested,” not signified read—instead of being only suggested.

Page 100, line 10 for hearing read seeing.

Page 103, note, lines 5, 6 for pp. 111, 112 read p. 210.

Page 200, note, line 14 for Adam read Robert.

Page 364, line 8 from foot for and read which.

Page 512, note 6, line 3 for imminent read immanent.

Vol. II

Page 194, note, line 3 for Tyndal read Tindal.

Page 207, line 1, insert 13. before Alc..

Page 377, line 6 for antethesis read antithesis.

Vol. IV

Page 285, lines 4, 5 for Thisus Alus Cujus, &c. read Ursus. Alus. Cuius. &c. The inscription, strictly speaking, appears on the Palace of the Counts Orsini, and is dated MD.

Editor's Preface To The Commonplace Book

Berkeley's juvenile Commonplace Book is a small quarto volume, in his handwriting, found among the Berkeley manuscripts in possession of the late Archdeacon Rose. It was first published in 1871, in my edition of Berkeley's Works. It consists of occasional thoughts, mathematical, physical, ethical, and metaphysical, set down in miscellaneous fashion, for private use, as they arose in the course of his studies at Trinity College, Dublin. They are full of the fervid enthusiasm that was natural to him, and of sanguine expectations of the issue of the prospective authorship for which they record preparations. On the title-page is written, “G. B. Trin. Dub. alum.,” with the date 1705, when he was twenty years of age. The entries are the gradual accumulation of the next three years, in one of which the Arithmetica and the Miscellanea Mathematica made their appearance. The New Theory of Vision, given to the world in 1709, was evidently much in his mind, as well as the sublime conception of the material world in its necessary subordination to the spiritual world, of which he delivered himself in his book of Principles, in 1710.

[pg 002]

This disclosure of Berkeley's thoughts about things, in the years preceding the publication of his first essays, is indeed a precious record of the initial struggles of ardent philosophical genius. It places the reader in intimate companionship with him when he was beginning to awake into intellectual and spiritual life. We hear him soliloquising. We see him trying to translate into reasonableness our crude inherited beliefs about the material world and the natural order of the universe, self-conscious personality, and the Universal Power or Providence—all under the sway of a new determining Principle which was taking profound possession of his soul. He finds that he has only to look at the concrete things of sense in the light of this great discovery to see the artificially induced perplexities of the old philosophers disappear, along with their imposing abstractions, which turn out empty words. The thinking is throughout fresh and sincere; sometimes impetuous and one-sided; the outcome of a mind indisposed to take things upon trust, resolved to inquire freely, a rebel against the tyranny of language, morally burdened with the consciousness of a new world-transforming conception, which duty to mankind obliged him to reveal, although his message was sure to offend. Men like to regard things as they have been wont. This new conception of the surrounding world—the impotence of Matter, and its subordinate office in the Supreme Economy must, he foresees, disturb those accustomed to treat outward things as the only realities, and who do not care to ask what constitutes reality. Notwithstanding the ridicule and ill-will that his transformed material world was sure to meet with, amongst the many who accept empty words instead of genuine insight, he was resolved to deliver himself of his thoughts through the press, but with the politic conciliation of a persuasive Irish pleader.

The Commonplace Book steadily recognises the adverse influence of one insidious foe. Its world-transforming-Principle [pg 003] has been obscured by “the mist and veil of words.” The abstractions of metaphysicians, which poison human language, had to be driven out of the author's mind before he could see the light, and must be driven out of the minds of others before they could be got to see it along with him: the concrete world as realisable only in percipient mind is with difficulty introduced into the vacant place. “The chief thing I pretend to is only to remove the mist and veil of words.” He exults in the transformed mental scene that then spontaneously rises before him. “My speculations have had the same effect upon me as visiting foreign countries,—in the end I return where I was before, get my heart at ease, and enjoy myself with more satisfaction. The philosophers lose their abstract matter; the materialists lose their abstract extension; the profane lose their extended deity. Pray what do the rest of mankind lose?” This beneficent revolution seemed to be the issue of a simple recognition of the fact, that the true way of regarding the world we see and touch is to regard it as consisting of ideas or phenomena that are presented to human senses, somehow regularly ordered, and the occasions of pleasure or pain to us as we conform to or rebel against their natural order. This is the surrounding universe—at least in its relations to us, and that is all in it that we have to do with. “I know not,” he says, “what is meant by things considered in themselves, i.e. in abstraction. This is nonsense. Thing and idea are words of much about the same extent and meaning. Existence is not conceivable without perception and volition. I only declare the meaning of the word existence, as far as I can comprehend it.”

In the Commonplace Book we see the youth at Trinity College forging the weapons which he was soon to direct against the materialism and scepticism of the generation into which he was born. Here are rough drafts, crude hints of intended arguments, probing of unphilosophical mathematicians—even Newton and Descartes, memoranda [pg 004] of facts, more or less relevant, on their way into the Essay on Vision and the treatise on Principles—seeds of the philosophy that was to be gradually unfolded in his life and in his books. We watch the intrepid thinker, notwithstanding the inexperience of youth, more disposed to give battle to mathematicians and metaphysicians than to submit even provisionally to any human authority. It does not seem that his scholarship or philosophical learning was extensive. Descartes, Malebranche, and Locke were his intimates; Hobbes and Spinoza were not unknown to him; Newton and some lesser lights among the mathematicians are often confronted. He is more rarely in company with the ancients or the mediaevalists. No deep study of Aristotle appears, and there is even a disposition to disparage Plato. He seeks for his home in the “new philosophy” of experience; without anticipations of Kant, as the critic of what is presupposed in the scientific reliability of any experience, against whom his almost blind zeal against abstractions would have set him at this early stage. “Pure intellect I understand not at all,” is one of his entries. He asks himself, “What becomes of the aeternae veritates?” and his reply is, “They vanish.” When he tells himself that “we must with the mob place certainty in the senses,” the words are apt to suggest that the senses are our only source of knowledge, but I suppose his meaning is that the senses must be trustworthy, as 'the mob' assume. Yet occasionally he uses language which looks like an anticipation of David Hume, as when he calls mind “a congeries of perceptions. Take away perceptions,” he adds, “and you take away mind. Put the perceptions and you put the mind. The understanding seemeth not to differ from its perceptions and ideas.” He seems unconscious of the total scepticism which such expressions, when strictly interpreted, are found to involve. But after all, the reader must not apply rigorous rules of interpretation to random entries or provisional [pg 005] memoranda, meant only for private use, by an enthusiastic student who was preparing to produce books.

I have followed the manuscript of the Commonplace Book, omitting a few repetitions of thought in the same words. Here and there Berkeley's writing is almost obliterated and difficult to decipher, apparently through accident by water in the course of his travels, when, as he mentions long after in one of his letters, several of his manuscripts were lost and others were injured.

The letters of the alphabet which are interpreted on the first page, and prefixed on the margin to some of the entries, may so far help to bring the apparent chaos of entries under a few articulate heads.

I have added some annotations here and there as they happened to occur, and these might have been multiplied indefinitely had space permitted.

Commonplace Book

Qu. If there be not two kinds of visible extension—one perceiv'd by a confus'd view, the other by a distinct successive direction of the optique axis to each point?

No general ideas46. The contrary a cause of mistake or confusion in mathematiques, &c. This to be intimated in ye Introduction47.

The Principle may be apply'd to the difficulties of conservation, co-operation, &c.

Trifling for the [natural] philosophers to enquire the cause of magnetical attractions, &c. They onely search after co-existing ideas48.

Quæcunque in Scriptura militant adversus Copernicum, militant pro me.

All things in the Scripture wch side with the vulgar against the learned, side with me also. I side in all things with the mob.

[pg 008]

I know there is a mighty sect of men will oppose me, but yet I may expect to be supported by those whose minds are not so far overgrown wth madness. These are far the greatest part of mankind—especially Moralists, Divines, Politicians; in a word, all but Mathematicians and Natural Philosophers. I mean only the hypothetical gentlemen. Experimental philosophers have nothing whereat to be offended in me.

Newton begs his Principles; I demonstrate mine49.

I must be very particular in explaining wt is meant by things existing—in houses, chambers, fields, caves, &c.—wn not perceiv'd as well as wn perceived; and shew how the vulgar notion agrees with mine, when we narrowly inspect into the meaning and definition of the word existence, wh is no simple idea, distinct from perceiving and being perceived50.

The Schoolmen have noble subjects, but handle them ill. The mathematicians have trifling subjects, but reason admirably about them. Certainly their method and arguing are excellent.

God knows how far our knowledge of intellectual beings may be enlarg'd from the Principles.

The reverse of the Principle I take to have been the chief source of all that scepticism and folly, all those contradictions and inextricable puzzling absurdities, that have in all ages been a reproach to human reason, as well as of that idolatry, whether of images or of gold, that blinds the greatest part of the world, and that shamefull immorality that turns us into beasts.

היה Vixit & fuit.

οὐσία, the name for substance, used by Aristotle, the Fathers, &c.

If at the same time we shall make the Mathematiques much more easie and much more accurate, wt can be objected to us51?

[pg 009]

We need not force our imagination to conceive such very small lines for infinitesimals. They may every whit as well be imagin'd big as little, since that the integer must be infinite.

Evident that wch has an infinite number of parts must be infinite.

We cannot imagine a line or space infinitely great—therefore absurd to talk or make propositions about it.

We cannot imagine a line, space, &c., quovis lato majus. Since yt what we imagine must be datum aliquod; a thing can't be greater than itself.

If you call infinite that wch is greater than any assignable by another, then I say, in that sense there may be an infinite square, sphere, or any other figure, wch is absurd.

Qu. if extension be resoluble into points it does not consist of?

No reasoning about things whereof we have no ideas52; therefore no reasoning about infinitesimals.

No word to be used without an idea.

If uneasiness be necessary to set the Will at work, Qu. how shall we will in heaven?

Bayle's, Malbranch's, &c. arguments do not seem to prove against Space, but onely against Bodies.

I agree in nothing wth the Cartesians as to ye existence of Bodies & Qualities53.

Aristotle as good a man as Euclid, but he was allowed to have been mistaken.

Lines not proper for demonstration.

We see the house itself, the church itself; it being an idea and nothing more. The house itself, the church itself, is an idea, i.e. an object—immediate object—of thought54.

[pg 010]

Instead of injuring, our doctrine much benefits geometry.

Existence is percipi, or percipere, [or velle, i.e. agere55]. The horse is in the stable, the books are in the study as before.

In physiques I have a vast view of things soluble hereby, but have not leisure.

Hyps and such like unaccountable things confirm my doctrine.

Angle not well defined. See Pardies' Geometry, by Harris, &c. This one ground of trifling.

One idea not the cause of another—one power not the cause of another. The cause of all natural things is onely God. Hence trifling to enquire after second causes. This doctrine gives a most suitable idea of the Divinity56.

Absurd to study astronomy and other the like doctrines as speculative sciences.

The absurd account of memory by the brain, &c. makes for me.

How was light created before man? Even so were Bodies created before man57.

Impossible anything besides that wch thinks and is thought on should exist58.

That wch is visible cannot be made up of invisible things.

M.S. is that wherein there are not contain'd distinguishable sensible parts. Now how can that wch hath not sensible parts be divided into sensible parts? If you say it may be divided into insensible parts, I say these are nothings.

Extension abstract from sensible qualities is no sensation, I grant; but then there is no such idea, as any one may try59. There is onely a considering the number of points without the sort of them, & this makes more for me, since it must be in a considering thing.

[pg 011]

Mem. Before I have shewn the distinction between visible & tangible extension, I must not mention them as distinct. I must not mention M. T. & M. V., but in general M. S., &c.60

Qu. whether a M. V. be of any colour? a M. T. of any tangible quality?

If visible extension be the object of geometry, 'tis that which is survey'd by the optique axis.

I may say the pain is in my finger, &c., according to my doctrine61.

Mem. Nicely to discuss wt is meant when we say a line consists of a certain number of inches or points, &c.; a circle of a certain number of square inches, points, &c. Certainly we may think of a circle, or have its idea in our mind, without thinking of points or square inches, &c.; whereas it should seem the idea of a circle is not made up of the ideas of points, square inches, &c.

Qu. Is any more than this meant by the foregoing expressions, viz. that squares or points may be perceived in or made out of a circle, &c., or that squares, points, &c. are actually in it, i.e. are perceivable in it?

A line in abstract, or Distance, is the number of points between two points. There is also distance between a slave & an emperor, between a peasant & philosopher, between a drachm & a pound, a farthing & a crown, &c.; in all which Distance signifies the number of intermediate ideas.

Halley's doctrine about the proportion between infinitely great quantities vanishes. When men speak of infinite quantities, either they mean finite quantities, or else talk of [that whereof they have62] no idea; both which are absurd.

If the disputations of the Schoolmen are blam'd for intricacy, triflingness, & confusion, yet it must be acknowledg'd [pg 012] that in the main they treated of great & important subjects. If we admire the method & acuteness of the Math[ematicians]—the length, the subtilty, the exactness of their demonstrations—we must nevertheless be forced to grant that they are for the most part about trifling subjects, and perhaps mean nothing at all.

Motion on 2d thoughts seems to be a simple idea.

Motion distinct from ye thing moved is not conceivable.

Mem. To take notice of Newton for defining it [motion]; also of Locke's wisdom in leaving it undefin'd63.

Ut ordo partium temporis est immutabilis, sin etiam ordo partium spatii. Moveantur hæ de locis suis, et movebuntur (ut ita dicam) de seipsis. Truly number is immensurable. That we will allow with Newton.

Ask a Cartesian whether he is wont to imagine his globules without colour. Pellucidness is a colour. The colour of ordinary light of the sun is white. Newton in the right in assigning colours to the rays of light.

A man born blind would not imagine Space as we do. We give it always some dilute, or duskish, or dark colour—in short, we imagine it as visible, or intromitted by the eye, wch he would not do.

Proinde vim inferunt sacris literis qui voces hasce (v. tempus, spatium, motus) de quantitatibus mensuratis ibi interpretantur. Newton, p. 10.

I differ from Newton, in that I think the recession ab axe motus is not the effect, or index, or measure of motion, but of the vis impressa. It sheweth not wt is truly moved, but wt has the force impressed on it, or rather that wch hath an impressed force.

D and P are not proportional in all circles. d d is to 1/4d p as d to p/4; but d and p/4 are not in the same proportion in all circles. Hence 'tis nonsense to seek the terms of one general proportion whereby to rectify all peripheries, or of another whereby to square all circles.

N. B. If the circle be squar'd arithmetically, 'tis squar'd geometrically, arithmetic or numbers being nothing but lines & proportions of lines when apply'd to geometry.

[pg 013]

Mem. To remark Cheyne64 & his doctrine of infinites.

Extension, motion, time, do each of them include the idea of succession, & so far forth they seem to be of mathematical consideration. Number consisting in succession & distinct perception, wch also consists in succession; for things at once perceiv'd are jumbled and mixt together in the mind. Time and motion cannot be conceiv'd without succession; and extension, qua mathemat., cannot be conceiv'd but as consisting of parts wch may be distinctly & successively perceiv'd. Extension perceived at once & in confuso does not belong to math.

The simple idea call'd Power seems obscure, or rather none at all, but onely the relation 'twixt Cause and Effect. When I ask whether A can move B, if A be an intelligent thing, I mean no more than whether the volition of A that B move be attended with the motion of B? If A be senseless, whether the impulse of A against B be followed by ye motion of B65?

Barrow's arguing against indivisibles, lect. i. p. 16, is a petitio principii, for the Demonstration of Archimedes supposeth the circumference to consist of more than 24 points. Moreover it may perhaps be necessary to suppose the divisibility ad infinitum, in order to demonstrate that the radius is equal to the side of the hexagon.

Shew me an argument against indivisibles that does not go on some false supposition.

A great number of insensibles—or thus, two invisibles, say you, put together become visible; therefore that M. V. contains or is made up of invisibles. I answer, the M. V. does not comprise, is not composed of, invisibles. All the matter amounts to this, viz. whereas I had no idea awhile agoe, I have an idea now. It remains for you to prove that I came by the present idea because there were two invisibles added together. I say the invisibles are nothings, cannot exist, include a contradiction66.

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I am young, I am an upstart, I am a pretender, I am vain. Very well. I shall endeavour patiently to bear up under the most lessening, vilifying appellations the pride & rage of man can devise. But one thing I know I am not guilty of. I do not pin my faith on the sleeve of any great man. I act not out of prejudice or prepossession. I do not adhere to any opinion because it is an old one, a reviv'd one, a fashionable one, or one that I have spent much time in the study and cultivation of.

Sense rather than reason or demonstration ought to be employed about lines and figures, these being things sensible; for as for those you call insensible, we have proved them to be nonsense, nothing67.

If in some things I differ from a philosopher I profess to admire, 'tis for that very thing on account whereof I admire him, namely, the love of truth. This &c.

Whenever my reader finds me talk very positively, I desire he'd not take it ill. I see no reason why certainty should be confined to the mathematicians.

I say there are no incommensurables, no surds. I say the side of any square may be assign'd in numbers. Say you assign unto me the side of the square 10. I ask wt 10—10 feet, inches, &c., or 10 points? If the later, I deny there is any such square, 'tis impossible 10 points should compose a square. If the former, resolve yr 10 square inches, feet, &c. into points, & the number of points must necessarily be a square number whose side is easily assignable.

A mean proportional cannot be found betwixt any two given lines. It can onely be found betwixt those the numbers of whose points multiply'd together produce a square number. Thus betwixt a line of 2 inches & a line of 5 inches a mean geometrical cannot be found, except the number of points contained in 2 inches multiply'd by ye number of points contained in 5 inches make a square number.

If the wit and industry of the Nihilarians were employ'd [pg 015] about the usefull & practical mathematiques, what advantage had it brought to mankind!

You ask me whether the books are in the study now, when no one is there to see them? I answer, Yes. You ask me, Are we not in the wrong for imagining things to exist when they are not actually perceiv'd by the senses? I answer, No. The existence of our ideas consists in being perceiv'd, imagin'd, thought on. Whenever they are imagin'd or thought on they do exist. Whenever they are mentioned or discours'd of they are imagin'd & thought on. Therefore you can at no time ask me whether they exist or no, but by reason of yt very question they must necessarily exist.

But, say you, then a chimæra does exist? I answer, it doth in one sense, i.e. it is imagin'd. But it must be well noted that existence is vulgarly restrain'd to actuall perception, and that I use the word existence in a larger sense than ordinary.68

N. B.—According to my doctrine all things are entia rationis, i.e. solum habent esse in intellectum.

[69According to my doctrine all are not entia rationis. The distinction between ens rationis and ens reale is kept up by it as well as any other doctrine.]

You ask me whether there can be an infinite idea? I answer, in one sense there may. Thus the visual sphere, tho' ever so small, is infinite, i.e. has no end. But if by infinite you mean an extension consisting of innumerable points, then I ask yr pardon. Points, tho' never so many, may be numbered. The multitude of points, or feet, inches, &c., hinders not their numbrableness (i.e. hinders not their being numerable) in the least. Many or most are numerable, as well as few or least. Also, if by infinite idea you mean an idea too great to be comprehended or perceiv'd all at once, you must excuse me. I think such an infinite is no less than a contradiction70.

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The sillyness of the current doctrine makes much for me. They commonly suppose a material world—figures, motions, bulks of various sizes, &c.—according to their own confession to no purpose. All our sensations may be, and sometimes actually are, without them; nor can men so much as conceive it possible they should concur in any wise to the production of them.

Ask a man, I mean a philosopher, why he supposes this vast structure, this compages of bodies? he shall be at a stand; he'll not have one word to say. Wch sufficiently shews the folly of the hypothesis.

Or rather why he supposes all ys Matter? For bodies and their qualities I do allow to exist independently of our mind.

Qu. How is the soul distinguish'd from its ideas? Certainly if there were no sensible ideas there could be no soul, no perception, remembrance, love, fear, &c.; no faculty could be exerted71.

The soul is the Will, properly speaking, and as it is distinct from ideas.

The grand puzzling question, whether I sleep or wake, easily solv'd.

Qu. Whether minima or meer minima may not be compar'd by their sooner or later evanescence, as well as by more or less points, so that one sensible may be greater than another, though it exceeds it not by one point?

Circles on several radius's are not similar figures, they having neither all nor any an infinite number of sides. Hence in vain to enquire after 2 terms of one and ye same proportion that should constantly express the reason of the d to the p in all circles.

Mem. To remark Wallis's harangue, that the aforesaid proportion can neither be expressed by rational numbers nor surds.

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We can no more have an idea of length without breadth or visibility, than of a general figure.

One idea may be like another idea, tho' they contain no common simple idea72. Thus the simple idea red is in some sense like the simple idea blue; 'tis liker it than sweet or shrill. But then those ideas wch are so said to be alike, agree both in their connexion with another simple idea, viz. extension, & in their being receiv'd by one & the same sense. But, after all, nothing can be like an idea but an idea.

No sharing betwixt God & Nature or second causes in my doctrine.

Materialists must allow the earth to be actually mov'd by the attractive power of every stone that falls from the air, with many other the like absurditys.

Enquire concerning the pendulum clock, &c.; whether those inventions of Huygens, &c. be attained to by my doctrine.

The ... & ... & ... &c. of time are to be cast away and neglected, as so many noughts or nothings.

Mem. To make experiments concerning minimums and their colours, whether they have any or no, & whether they can be of that green wch seems to be compounded of yellow and blue.

Qu. Whether it were not better not to call the operations of the mind ideas—confining this term to things sensible73?

Mem. diligently to set forth how that many of the ancient philosophers run into so great absurditys as even to deny the existence of motion, and of those other things they perceiv'd actually by their senses. This sprung from their not knowing wt Existence was, and wherein it consisted. This the source of all their folly. 'Tis on the discovering of the nature and meaning and import of Existence that I chiefly insist. This puts a wide difference betwixt the [pg 018] sceptics &c. & me. This I think wholly new. I am sure this is new to me74.

We have learn'd from Mr. Locke that there may be, and that there are, several glib, coherent, methodical discourses, which nevertheless amount to just nothing. This by him intended with relation to the Scholemen. We may apply it to the Mathematicians.

Qu. How can all words be said to stand for ideas? The word blue stands for a colour without any extension, or abstract from extension. But we have not an idea of colour without extension. We cannot imagine colour without extension.

Locke seems wrongly to assign a double use of words: one for communicating & the other for recording our thoughts. 'Tis absurd to use words for recording our thoughts to ourselves, or in our private meditations75.

No one abstract simple idea like another. Two simple ideas may be connected with one & the same 3d simple idea, or be intromitted by one & the same sense. But consider'd in themselves they can have nothing common, and consequently no likeness.

Qu. How can there be any abstract ideas of colours? It seems not so easily as of tastes or sounds. But then all ideas whatsoever are particular. I can by no means conceive an abstract general idea. 'Tis one thing to abstract one concrete idea from another of a different kind, & another thing to abstract an idea from all particulars of the same kind76.

Mem. Much to recommend and approve of experimental philosophy.

What means Cause as distinguish'd from Occasion? Nothing but a being wch wills, when the effect follows the volition. Those things that happen from without we are not the cause of. Therefore there is some other Cause of them, i.e. there is a Being that wills these perceptions in us77.

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[78It should be said, nothing but a Will—a Being which wills being unintelligible.]

One square cannot be double of another. Hence the Pythagoric theorem is false.

Some writers of catoptrics absurd enough to place the apparent place of the object in the Barrovian case behind the eye.

Blew and yellow chequers still diminishing terminate in green. This may help to prove the composition of green.

There is in green 2 foundations of 2 relations of likeness to blew & yellow. Therefore green is compounded.

A mixt cause will produce a mixt effect. Therefore colours are all compounded that we see.

Mem. To consider Newton's two sorts of green.

N. B. My abstract & general doctrines ought not to be condemn'd by the Royall Society. 'Tis wt their meeting did ultimately intend. V. Sprat's History S. R.79

Mem. To premise a definition of idea80.

The 2 great principles of Morality—the being of a God & the freedom of man. Those to be handled in the beginning of the Second Book81.

Subvertitur geometria ut non practica sed speculativa.

Archimedes's proposition about squaring the circle has nothing to do with circumferences containing less than 96 points; & if the circumference contain 96 points it may be apply'd, but nothing will follow against indivisibles. V. Barrow.

Those curve lines that you can rectify geometrically. Compare them with their equal right lines & by a microscope you shall discover an inequality. Hence my squaring of the circle as good and exact as the best.

Qu. whether the substance of body or anything else be [pg 020] any more than the collection of concrete ideas included in that thing? Thus the substance of any particular body is extension, solidity, figure82. Of general abstract body we can have no idea.

Mem. Most carefully to inculcate and set forth that the endeavouring to express abstract philosophic thoughts by words unavoidably runs a man into difficulties. This to be done in the Introduction83.

Mem. To endeavour most accurately to understand what is meant by this axiom: Quæ sibi mutuo congruunt æqualia sunt.

Qu. what the geometers mean by equality of lines, & whether, according to their definition of equality, a curve line can possibly be equal to a right line?

If wth me you call those lines equal wch contain an equal number of points, then there will be no difficulty. That curve is equal to a right line wch contains the same points as the right one doth.

I take not away substances. I ought not to be accused of discarding substance out of the reasonable world84. I onely reject the philosophic sense (wch in effect is no sense) of the word substance. Ask a man not tainted with their jargon wt he means by corporeal substance, or the substance of body. He shall answer, bulk, solidity, and such like sensible qualitys. These I retain. The philosophic nec quid, nec quantum, nec quale, whereof I have no idea, I discard; if a man may be said to discard that which never had any being, was never so much as imagin'd or conceiv'd.

In short, be not angry. You lose nothing, whether real or chimerical. Wtever you can in any wise conceive or imagine, be it never so wild, so extravagant, & absurd, much good may it do you. You may enjoy it for me. I'll never deprive you of it.

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N. B. I am more for reality than any other philosophers85. They make a thousand doubts, & know not certainly but we may be deceiv'd. I assert the direct contrary.

A line in the sense of mathematicians is not meer distance. This evident in that there are curve lines.

Curves perfectly incomprehensible, inexplicable, absurd, except we allow points.

If men look for a thing where it's not to be found, be they never so sagacious, it is lost labour. If a simple clumsy man knows where the game lies, he though a fool shall catch it sooner than the most fleet & dexterous that seek it elsewhere. Men choose to hunt for truth and knowledge anywhere rather than in their own understanding, where 'tis to be found.

All knowledge onely about ideas. Locke, B. 4. c. 1.

It seems improper, & liable to difficulties, to make the word person stand for an idea, or to make ourselves ideas, or thinking things ideas.

Abstract ideas cause of much trifling and mistake.

Mathematicians seem not to speak clearly and coherently of equality. They nowhere define wt they mean by that word when apply'd to lines.

Locke says the modes of simple ideas, besides extension and number, are counted by degrees. I deny there are any modes or degrees of simple ideas. What he terms such are complex ideas, as I have proved.

Wt do the mathematicians mean by considering curves as polygons? Either they are polygons or they are not. If they are, why do they give them the name of curves? Why do not they constantly call them polygons, & treat them as such? If they are not polygons, I think it absurd to use polygons in their stead. Wt is this but to pervert language? to adapt an idea to a name that belongs not to it but to a different idea?

The mathematicians should look to their axiom, Quæ [pg 022] congruunt sunt æqualia. I know not what they mean by bidding me put one triangle on another. The under triangle is no triangle—nothing at all, it not being perceiv'd. I ask, must sight be judge of this congruentia or not? If it must, then all lines seen under the same angle are equal, wch they will not acknowledge. Must the touch be judge? But we cannot touch or feel lines and surfaces, such as triangles, &c., according to the mathematicians themselves. Much less can we touch a line or triangle that's cover'd by another line or triangle.

Do you mean by saying one triangle is equall to another, that they both take up equal spaces? But then the question recurs, what mean you by equal spaces? If you mean spatia congruentia, answer the above difficulty truly.

I can mean (for my part) nothing else by equal triangles than triangles containing equal numbers of points.

I can mean nothing by equal lines but lines wch 'tis indifferent whether of them I take, lines in wch I observe by my senses no difference, & wch therefore have the same name.

Must the imagination be judge in the aforementioned cases? but then imagination cannot go beyond the touch and sight. Say you, pure intellect must be judge. I reply that lines and triangles are not operations of the mind.

If I speak positively and with the air of a mathematician in things of which I am certain, 'tis to avoid disputes, to make men careful to think before they answer, to discuss my arguments before they go to refute them. I would by no means injure truth and certainty by an affected modesty & submission to better judgments. Wt I lay before you are undoubted theorems; not plausible conjectures of my own, nor learned opinions of other men. I pretend not to prove them by figures, analogy, or authority. Let them stand or fall by their own evidence.

When you speak of the corpuscularian essences of bodys, to reflect on sect. 11. & 12. b. 4. c. 3. Locke. Motion supposes not solidity. A meer colour'd extension may give us the idea of motion.

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Any subject can have of each sort of primary qualities but one particular at once. Lib. 4. c. 3. s. 15. Locke.

Well, say you, according to this new doctrine, all is but meer idea—there is nothing wch is not an ens rationis. I answer, things are as real, and exist in rerum natura, as much as ever. The difference between entia realia & entia rationis may be made as properly now as ever. Do but think before you speak. Endeavour rightly to comprehend my meaning, and you'll agree with me in this.

Fruitless the distinction 'twixt real and nominal essences.

We are not acquainted with the meaning of our words. Real, extension, existence, power, matter, lines, infinite, point, and many more are frequently in our mouths, when little, clear, and determin'd answers them in our understandings. This must be well inculcated.

Vain is the distinction 'twixt intellectual and material world86. V. Locke, lib. 4. c. 3. s. 27, where he says that is far more beautiful than this.

Foolish in men to despise the senses. If it were not for

them the mind could have no knowledge, no thought at all. All ... of introversion, meditation, contemplation, and spiritual acts, as if these could be exerted before we had ideas from without by the senses, are manifestly absurd. This may be of great use in that it makes the happyness of the life to come more conceivable and agreeable to our present nature. The schoolemen & refiners in philosophy gave the greatest part of mankind no more tempting idea of heaven or the joys of the blest.

The vast, wide-spread, universal cause of our mistakes is, that we do not consider our own notions. I mean consider them in themselves—fix, settle, and determine them,—we regarding them with relation to each other only. In short, we are much out in study[ing] the relations of things before we study them absolutely and in themselves. Thus we study to find out the relations of figures to one another, the relations also of number, without endeavouring rightly to understand the nature of extension and number in themselves. This we think [pg 024] is of no concern, of no difficulty; but if I mistake not 'tis of the last importance,

I allow not of the distinction there is made 'twixt profit and pleasure.

I'd never blame a man for acting upon interest. He's a fool that acts on any other principles. The not considering these things has been of ill consequence in morality.

My positive assertions are no less modest than those that are introduced with “It seems to me,” “I suppose,” &c.; since I declare, once for all, that all I write or think is entirely about things as they appear to me. It concerns no man else any further than his thoughts agree with mine. This in the Preface.

Two things are apt to confound men in their reasonings one with another. 1st. Words signifying the operations of the mind are taken from sensible ideas. 2ndly. Words as used by the vulgar are taken in some latitude, their signification is confused. Hence if a man use words in a determined, settled signification, he is at a hazard either of not being understood, or of speaking improperly. All this remedyed by studying the understanding.

Unity no simple idea. I have no idea meerly answering the word one. All number consists in relations87.

Entia realia et entia rationis, a foolish distinction of the Schoolemen.

We have an intuitive knowledge of the existence of other things besides ourselves & order, præcedaneous88. To the knowledge of our own existence—in that we must have ideas or else we cannot think.

We move our legs ourselves. 'Tis we that will their movement. Herein I differ from Malbranch89.

Mem. Nicely to discuss Lib. 4. c. 4. Locke90.

Mem. Again and again to mention & illustrate the doctrine of the reality of things, rerum natura, &c.

Wt I say is demonstration—perfect demonstration. Wherever men have fix'd & determin'd ideas annexed to [pg 025] their words they can hardly be mistaken. Stick but to my definition of likeness, and 'tis a demonstration yt colours are not simple ideas, all reds being like, &c. So also in other things. This to be heartily insisted on.

The abstract idea of Being or Existence is never thought of by the vulgar. They never use those words standing for abstract ideas.

I must not say the words thing, substance, &c. have been the cause of mistakes, but the not reflecting on their meaning. I will be still for retaining the words. I only desire that men would think before they speak, and settle the meaning of their words.

I approve not of that which Locke says, viz. truth consists in the joining and separating of signs.

Locke cannot explain general truth or knowledge without treating of words and propositions. This makes for me against abstract general ideas. Vide Locke, lib. 4. ch. 6.

Men have been very industrious in travelling forward. They have gone a great way. But none have gone backward beyond the Principles. On that side there lies much terra incognita to be travel'd over and discovered by me. A vast field for invention.

Twelve inches not the same idea with a foot. Because a man may perfectly conceive a foot who never thought of an inch.

A foot is equal to or the same with twelve inches in this respect, viz. they contain both the same number of points.

[Forasmuch as] to be used.

Mem. To mention somewhat wch may encourage the study of politiques, and testify of me yt I am well dispos'd toward them.

If men did not use words for ideas they would never have thought of abstract ideas. Certainly genera and species are not abstract general ideas. Abstract ideas include a contradiction in their nature. Vide Locke91, lib. 4. c. 7. s. 9.

A various or mixt cause must necessarily produce a various or mixt effect. This demonstrable from the [pg 026] definition of a cause; which way of demonstrating must be frequently made use of in my Treatise, & to that end definitions often præmis'd. Hence 'tis evident that, according to Newton's doctrine, colours cannot be simple ideas.

I am the farthest from scepticism of any man. I know with an intuitive knowledge the existence of other things as well as my own soul. This is wt Locke nor scarce any other thinking philosopher will pretend to92.

Doctrine of abstraction of very evil consequence in all the sciences. Mem. Barrow's remark. Entirely owing to language.

Locke greatly out in reckoning the recording our ideas by words amongst the uses and not the abuses of language.

Of great use & ye last importance to contemplate a man put into the world alone, with admirable abilitys, and see how after long experience he would know wthout words. Such a one would never think of genera and species or abstract general ideas.

Wonderful in Locke that he could, wn advanced in years, see at all thro' a mist; it had been so long a gathering, & was consequently thick. This more to be admir'd than yt he did not see farther.

Identity of ideas may be taken in a double sense, either as including or excluding identity of circumstances, such as time, place, &c.

I am glad the people I converse with are not all richer, wiser, &c. than I. This is agreeable to reason; is no sin. 'Tis certain that if the happyness of my acquaintance encreases, & mine not proportionably, mine must decrease. The not understanding this & the doctrine about relative good, discuss'd with French, Madden93, &c., to be noticed as 2 causes of mistake in judging of moral matters.

Mem. To observe (wn you talk of the division of ideas into simple and complex) that there may be another cause [pg 027] of the undefinableness of certain ideas besides that which Locke gives; viz. the want of names.

Mem. To begin the First Book94 not with mention of sensation and reflection, but instead of sensation to use perception or thought in general.

I defy any man to imagine or conceive perception without an idea, or an idea without perception.

Locke's very supposition that matter & motion should exist before thought is absurd—includes a manifest contradiction.

Locke's harangue about coherent, methodical discourses amounting to nothing, apply'd to the mathematicians.

They talk of determining all the points of a curve by an equation. Wt mean they by this? Wt would they signify by the word points? Do they stick to the definition of Euclid?

We think we know not the Soul, because we have no imaginable or sensible idea annex'd to that sound. This the effect of prejudice.

Certainly we do not know it. This will be plain if we examine what we mean by the word knowledge. Neither doth this argue any defect in our knowledge, no more than our not knowing a contradiction.

The very existence of ideas constitutes the Soul95.

Consciousness96, perception, existence of ideas, seem to be all one.

Consult, ransack yr understanding. Wt find you there besides several perceptions or thoughts? Wt mean you by the word mind? You must mean something that you perceive, or yt you do not perceive. A thing not perceived is a contradiction. To mean (also) a thing you do not perceive is a contradiction. We are in all this matter strangely abused by words.

Mind is a congeries of perceptions97. Take away perceptions [pg 028] and you take away the mind. Put the perceptions and you put the mind.

Say you, the mind is not the perception, not that thing which perceives. I answer, you are abused by the words “that a thing.” These are vague and empty words with us.

The having ideas is not the same thing with perception. A man may have ideas when he only imagines. But then this imagination presupposeth perception.

That wch extreamly strengthens us in prejudice is yt we think we see an empty space, which I shall demonstrate to be false in the Third Book98.

There may be demonstrations used even in Divinity. I mean in revealed Theology, as contradistinguish'd from natural; for tho' the principles may be founded in faith, yet this hinders not but that legitimate demonstrations might be built thereon; provided still that we define the words we use, and never go beyond our ideas. Hence 'twere no very hard matter for those who hold episcopacy or monarchy to be established jure Divino to demonstrate their doctrines if they are true. But to pretend to demonstrate or reason anything about the Trinity is absurd. Here an implicit faith becomes us.

Qu. if there be any real difference betwixt certain ideas of reflection & others of sensation, e.g. betwixt perception and white, black, sweet, &c.? Wherein, I pray you, does the perception of white differ from white men....

I shall demonstrate all my doctrines. The nature of demonstration to be set forth and insisted on in the Introduction99. In that I must needs differ from Locke, forasmuch as he makes all demonstration to be about abstract ideas, wch I say we have not nor can have.

The understanding seemeth not to differ from its perceptions or ideas. Qu. What must one think of the will and passions?

A good proof that Existence is nothing without or [pg 029] distinct from perception, may be drawn from considering a man put into the world without company100.

There was a smell, i.e. there was a smell perceiv'd. Thus we see that common speech confirms my doctrine.

No broken intervals of death or annihilation. Those intervals are nothing; each person's time being measured to him by his own ideas.

We are frequently puzzl'd and at a loss in obtaining clear and determin'd meanings of words commonly in use, & that because we imagine words stand for abstract general ideas which are altogether inconceivable.

“A stone is a stone.” This a nonsensical proposition, and such as the solitary man would never think on. Nor do I believe he would ever think on this: “The whole is equal to its parts,” &c.

Let it not be said that I take away existence. I only declare the meaning of the word, so far as I can comprehend it.

If you take away abstraction, how do men differ from beasts? I answer, by shape, by language. Rather by degrees of more and less.

Wt means Locke by inferences in words, consequences of words, as something different from consequences of ideas? I conceive no such thing.

N. B. Much complaint about the imperfection of language101.

But perhaps some man may say, an inert thoughtless Substance may exist, though not extended, moved, &c., but with other properties whereof we have no idea. But even this I shall demonstrate to be impossible, wn I come to treat more particularly of Existence.

Will not rightly distinguish'd from Desire by Locke—it seeming to superadd nothing to the idea of an action, but the uneasiness for its absence or non-existence.

Mem. To enquire diligently into that strange mistery, [pg 030] viz. How it is that I can cast about, think of this or that man, place, action, wn nothing appears to introduce them into my thoughts, wn they have no perceivable connexion with the ideas suggested by my senses at the present?

'Tis not to be imagin'd wt a marvellous emptiness & scarcity of ideas that man shall descry who will lay aside all use of words in his meditations.

Incongruous in Locke to fancy we want a sense proper to see substances with.

Locke owns that abstract ideas were made in order to naming.

The common errour of the opticians, that we judge of distance by angles102, strengthens men in their prejudice that they see things without and distant from their mind.

I am persuaded, would men but examine wt they mean by the word existence, they wou'd agree with me.

c. 20. s. 8. b. 4. of Locke makes for me against the mathematicians.

The supposition that things are distinct from ideas takes away all real truth, & consequently brings in a universal scepticism; since all our knowledge and contemplation is confin'd barely to our own ideas103.

Qu. whether the solitary man would not find it necessary to make use of words to record his ideas, if not in memory or meditation, yet at least in writing—without which he could scarce retain his knowledge.

We read in history there was a time when fears and jealousies, privileges of parliament, malignant party, and such like expressions of too unlimited and doubtful a meaning, were words of much sway. Also the words Church, Whig, Tory, &c., contribute very much to faction and dispute.

The distinguishing betwixt an idea and perception of the idea has been one great cause of imagining material substances104.

That God and blessed spirits have Will is a manifest [pg 031] argument against Locke's proofs that the Will cannot be conceiv'd, put into action, without a previous uneasiness.

The act of the Will, or volition, is not uneasiness, for that uneasiness may be without volition.

Volition is distinct from the object or idea for the same reason.

Also from uneasiness and idea together.

The understanding not distinct from particular perceptions or ideas.

The Will not distinct from particular volitions.

It is not so very evident that an idea, or at least uneasiness, may be without all volition or act.

The understanding taken for a faculty is not really distinct from ye will.

This allow'd hereafter.

To ask whether a man can will either side is an absurd question, for the word can presupposes volition.

Anima mundi, substantial form, omniscient radical heat, plastic vertue, Hylaschic principle—all these vanish105.

Newton proves that gravity is proportional to gravity. I think that's all106.

Qu. whether it be the vis inertiæ that makes it difficult to move a stone, or the vis attractivæ, or both, or neither?

Mem. To express the doctrines as fully and copiously and clearly as may be. Also to be full and particular in answering objections107.

To say ye Will is a power; [therefore] volition is an act. This is idem per idem.

Wt makes men despise extension, motion, &c., & separate them from the essence of the soul, is that they imagine them to be distinct from thought, and to exist in unthinking substance.

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An extended may have passive modes of thinking good actions.

There might be idea, there might be uneasiness, there might be the greatest uneasiness wthout any volition, therefore the....

Matter once allow'd, I defy any man to prove that God is not Matter108.

Man is free. There is no difficulty in this proposition, if we but settle the signification of the word free—if we had an idea annext to the word free, and would but contemplate that idea.

We are imposed on by the words will, determine, agent, free, can, &c.

Uneasiness precedes not every volition. This evident by experience.

Trace an infant in the womb. Mark the train & succession of its ideas. Observe how volition comes into the mind. This may perhaps acquaint you with its nature.

Complacency seems rather to determine, or precede, or coincide wth & constitute the essence of volition, than uneasiness.

You tell me, according to my doctrine a man is not free. I answer, tell me wt you mean by the word free, and I shall resolve you109.

Qu. Wt do men mean when they talk of one body's touching another? I say you never saw one body touch, or (rather) I say, I never saw one body that I could say touch'd this or that other; for that if my optiques were improv'd, I should see intervalls and other bodies behind those whch now seem to touch.

Mem. Upon all occasions to use the utmost modesty—to confute the mathematicians wth the utmost civility & respect, not to style them Nihilarians, &c.

N. B. To rein in ye satyrical nature.

Blame me not if I use my words sometimes in some latitude. 'Tis wt cannot be helpt. 'Tis the fault of language [pg 033] that you cannot always apprehend the clear and determinate meaning of my words.

Say you, there might be a thinking Substance—something unknown—wch perceives, and supports, and ties together the ideas110. Say I, make it appear there is any need of it and you shall have it for me. I care not to take away anything I can see the least reason to think should exist.

I affirm 'tis manifestly absurd—no excuse in the world can be given why a man should use a word without an idea111. Certainly we shall find that wt ever word we make use of in matter of pure reasoning has, or ought to have, a compleat idea, annext to it, i.e. its meaning, or the sense we take it in, must be compleatly known.

'Tis demonstrable a man can never be brought to imagine anything should exist whereof he has no idea. Whoever says he does, banters himself with words.

We imagine a great difference & distance in respect of knowledge, power, &c., betwixt a man & a worm. The like difference betwixt man and God may be imagin'd; or infinitely greater112 difference.

We find in our own minds a great number of different ideas. We may imagine in God a greater number, i.e. that ours in number, or the number of ours, is inconsiderable in respect thereof. The words difference and number, old and known, we apply to that wch is unknown. But I am embrangled113 in words—'tis scarce possible it should be otherwise.

The chief thing I do or pretend to do is onely to remove the mist or veil of words114. This has occasion'd ignorance & confusion. This has ruined the schoolmen and mathematicians, lawyers and divines.

The grand cause of perplexity & darkness in treating of the Will, is that we imagine it to be an object of thought: (to speak with the vulgar), we think we may perceive, contemplate, and view it like any of our ideas; whereas in [pg 034] truth 'tis no idea, nor is there any idea of it. 'Tis toto cælo different from the understanding, i.e. from all our ideas. If you say the Will, or rather volition, is something, I answer, there is an homonymy115 in the word thing, wn apply'd to ideas and volition and understanding and will. All ideas are passive116.

Thing & idea are much what words of the same extent and meaning. Why, therefore, do I not use the word thing? Ans. Because thing is of greater latitude than idea. Thing comprehends also volitions or actions. Now these are no ideas117.

There can be perception wthout volition. Qu. whether there can be volition without perception?

Existence not conceivable without perception or volition—not distinguish'd therefrom.

N. B. Several distinct ideas can be perceived by sight and touch at once. Not so by the other senses. 'Tis this diversity of sensations in other senses chiefly, but sometimes in touch and sight (as also diversity of volitions, whereof there cannot be more than one at once, or rather, it seems there cannot, for of that I doubt), gives us the idea of time—or is time itself.

Wt would the solitary man think of number?

There are innate ideas, i.e. ideas created with us118.

Locke seems to be mistaken wn he says thought is not essential to the mind119.

Certainly the mind always and constantly thinks: and we know this too. In sleep and trances the mind exists not—there is no time, no succession of ideas120.

To say the mind exists without thinking is a contradiction, nonsense, nothing.

Folly to inquire wt determines the Will. Uneasiness, &c. are ideas, therefore unactive, therefore can do nothing, therefore cannot determine the Will121.

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Again, wt mean you by determine?

For want of rightly understanding time, motion, existence, &c., men are forc'd into such absurd contradictions as this, viz. light moves 16 diameters of earth in a second of time.

'Twas the opinion that ideas could exist unperceiv'd, or before perception, that made men think perception122 was somewhat different from the idea perceived, i.e. yt it was an idea of reflection; whereas the thing perceiv'd was an idea of sensation. I say, 'twas this made 'em think the understanding took it in, receiv'd it from without; wch could never be did not they think it existed without123.

Properly speaking, idea is the picture of the imagination's making. This is ye likeness of, and refer'd to the real idea, or (if you will) thing124.

To ask, have we an idea of Will or volition, is nonsense. An idea can resemble nothing but an idea.

If you ask wt thing it is that wills, I answer, if you mean idea by the word thing, or anything like any idea, then I say, 'tis no thing at all that wills125. This how extravagant soever it may seem, yet is a certain truth. We are cheated by these general terms, thing, is, &c.

Again, if by is you mean is perceived, or does perceive, I say nothing wch is perceived or does perceive wills.

The referring ideas to things wch are not ideas, the using the term “idea of126,” is one great cause of mistake, as in other matters, so also in this.

Some words there are wch do not stand for ideas, viz. particles, will, &c. Particles stand for volitions and their concomitant ideas.

There seem to be but two colours wch are simple ideas, viz. those exhibited by the most and least refrangible rays; [the others], being the intermediate ones, may be formed by composition.

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I have no idea of a volition or act of the mind, neither has any other intelligence; for that were a contradiction.

N. B. Simple ideas, viz. colours, are not devoid of all sort of composition, tho' it must be granted they are not made up of distinguishable ideas. Yet there is another sort of composition. Men are wont to call those things compounded in which we do not actually discover the component ingredients. Bodies are said to be compounded of chymical principles, which, nevertheless, come not into view till after the dissolution of the bodies—wch were not, could not, be discerned in the bodies whilst remaining entire.

All our knowledge is about particular ideas, according to Locke. All our sensations are particular ideas, as is evident. Wt use then do we make of abstract general ideas, since we neither know nor perceive them?

'Tis allow'd that particles stand not for ideas, and yet they are not said to be empty useless sounds. The truth really is, they stand for operations of the mind, i.e. volitions.

Locke says all our knowledge is about particulars. If so, pray wt is the following ratiocination but a jumble of words? “Omnis homo est animal; omne animal vivit: ergo omnis homo vivit.” It amounts (if you annex particular ideas to the words “animal” and “vivit”) to no more than this: “Omnis homo est homo; omnis homo est homo: ergo, omnis homo est homo.” A mere sport and trifling with sounds.

We have no ideas of vertues & vices, no ideas of moral actions127. Wherefore it may be question'd whether we are capable of arriving at demonstration about them128, the morality consisting in the volition chiefly.

Strange it is that men should be at a loss to find their idea of Existence; since that (if such there be distinct from perception) it is brought into the mind by all the ways of sensation and reflection129, methinks it should be most familiar to us, and we best acquainted with it.

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This I am sure, I have no idea of Existence130, or annext to the word Existence. And if others have that's nothing to me; they can never make me sensible of it; simple ideas being incommunicable by language.

Say you, the unknown substratum of volitions & ideas is something whereof I have no idea. I ask, Is there any other being which has or can have an idea of it? If there be, then it must be itself an idea; which you will think absurd.

There is somewhat active in most perceptions, i.e. such as ensue upon our volitions, such as we can prevent and stop: e.g. I turn my eyes toward the sun: I open them. All this is active.

Things are twofold—active or inactive. The existence of active things is to act; of inactive to be perceiv'd.

Distinct from or without perception there is no volition; therefore neither is there existence without perception.

God may comprehend all ideas, even the ideas wch are painfull & unpleasant, without being in any degree pained thereby131. Thus we ourselves can imagine the pain of a burn, &c. without any misery or uneasiness at all.

Truth, three sorts thereof—natural, mathematical, & moral.

Agreement of relation onely where numbers do obtain: of co-existence, in nature: of signification, by including, in morality.

Gyant who shakes the mountain that's on him must be acknowledged. Or rather thus: I am no more to be reckon'd stronger than Locke than a pigmy should be reckon'd stronger than a gyant, because he could throw off the molehill wch lay upon him, and the gyant could onely shake or shove the mountain that oppressed him. This in the Preface.

Promise to extend our knowledge & clear it of those shamefull contradictions which embarrass it. Something like this to begin the Introduction in a modest way132.

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Whoever shall pretend to censure any part, I desire he would read out the whole, else he may perhaps not understand me. In the Preface or Introduction133.

Doctrine of identity best explain'd by taking the Will for volitions, the Understanding for ideas. The difficulty of consciousness of wt are never acted surely solv'd thereby.

I must acknowledge myself beholding to the philosophers who have gone before me. They have given good rules, though certainly they do not always observe them. Similitude of adventurers, who, tho' they attained not the desired port, they by their wrecks have made known the rocks and sands, whereby the passage of aftercomers is made more secure & easy. Preface or Introduction.

The opinion that men had ideas of moral actions134 has render'd the demonstrating ethiques very difficult to them.

An idea being itself unactive cannot be the resemblance or image of an active thing.

Excuse to be made in the Introduction for using the word idea, viz. because it has obtain'd. But a caution must be added.

Scripture and possibility are the onely proofs135 with Malbranch. Add to these what he calls a great propension to think so: this perhaps may be questioned. Perhaps men, if they think before they speak, will not be found so thoroughly persuaded of the existence of Matter.

On second thoughts I am on t'other extream. I am certain of that wch Malbranch seems to doubt of, viz. the existence of bodies136.

Mem. To bring the killing blow at the last, e.g. in the matter of abstraction to bring Locke's general triangle in the last137.

They give good rules, tho' perhaps they themselves do not always observe them. They speak much of clear and distinct ideas, though at the same time they talk of general abstract ideas, &c. I'll [instance] in Locke's opinion of abstraction, he being as clear a writer as I have met with.

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Such was the candour of this great man that I perswade myself, were he alive138, he would not be offended that I differ from him: seeing that even in so doing I follow his advice, viz. to use my own judgement, see with my own eyes, & not with another's. Introduction.

The word thing, as comprising or standing for idea & volition, usefull; as standing for idea and archetype without the mind139, mischievous and useless.

To demonstrate morality it seems one need only make a dictionary of words, and see which included which. At least, this is the greatest part and bulk of the work.

Locke's instances of demonstration in morality are, according to his own rule, trifling propositions.

Qu. How comes it that some ideas are confessedly allow'd by all to be onely in the mind140, and others as generally taken to be without the mind141, if, according to you, all are equally and only in the mind? Ans. Because that in proportion to pleasure or pain ideas are attended with desire, exertion, and other actions which include volition. Now volition is by all granted to be in spirit.

If men would lay aside words in thinking, 'tis impossible they should ever mistake, save only in matters of fact. I mean it seems impossible they should be positive & secure that anything was true wch in truth is not so. Certainly I cannot err in matter of simple perception. So far as we can in reasoning go without the help of signs, there we have certain knowledge. Indeed, in long deductions made by signs there may be slips of memory.

From my doctrine there follows a cure for pride. We are only to be praised for those things which are our own, or of our own doing; natural abilitys are not consequences of our volitions.

Mem. Candidly to take notice that Locke holds some dangerous opinions; such as the infinity and eternity of Space and the possibility of Matter's thinking142.

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Once more I desire my reader may be upon his guard against the fallacy of words. Let him beware that I do not impose on him by plausible empty talk, that common dangerous way of cheating men into absurditys. Let him not regard my words any otherwise than as occasions of bringing into his mind determin'd significations. So far as they fail of this they are gibberish, jargon, & deserve not the name of language. I desire & warn him not to expect to find truth in my book, or anywhere but in his own mind. Wtever I see myself 'tis impossible I can paint it out in words.

N. B. To consider well wt is meant by that wch Locke saith concerning algebra—that it supplys intermediate ideas. Also to think of a method affording the same use in morals &c. that this doth in mathematiques.

Homo is not proved to be vivens by means of any intermediate idea. I don't fully agree wth Locke in wt he says concerning sagacity in finding out intermediate ideas in matter capable of demonstration & the use thereof; as if that were the onely means of improving and enlarging demonstrative knowledge.

There is a difference betwixt power & volition. There may be volition without power. But there can be no power without volition. Power implyeth volition, & at the same time a connotation of the effects following the volition143.

We have assuredly an idea of substance. 'Twas absurd of Locke144 to think we had a name without a meaning. This might prove acceptable to the Stillingfleetians.

The substance of Body we know145. The substance of Spirit we do not know—it not being knowable, it being a purus actus.

Words have ruin'd and overrun all the sciences—law, physique, chymistry, astrology, &c.

Abstract ideas only to be had amongst the learned. The vulgar never think they have any such, nor truly do they find any want of them. Genera & species & abstract ideas are terms unknown to them.

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Locke's out146—the case is different. We can have an idea of body without motion, but not of soul without thought.

God ought to be worship'd. This easily demonstrated when once we ascertain the signification of the words God, worship, ought.

No perception, according to Locke, is active. Therefore no perception (i.e. no idea) can be the image of, or like unto, that which is altogether active & not at all passive, i.e. the Will.

I can will the calling to mind something that is past, tho' at the same time that wch I call to mind was not in my thoughts before that volition of mine, & consequently I could have had no uneasiness for the want of it.

The Will & the Understanding may very well be thought two distinct beings.

Sed quia voluntas raro agit nisi ducente desiderio. V. Locke, Epistles, p. 479, ad Limburgum.

You cannot say the m. t. [minimum tangibile] is like or one with the m. v. [minimum visibile], because they be both minima, just perceiv'd, and next door to nothing. You may as well say the m. t. is the same with or like unto a sound, so small that it is scarce perceiv'd.

Extension seems to be a mode of some tangible or sensible quality according as it is seen or felt.

The spirit—the active thing—that wch is soul, & God—is the Will alone. The ideas are effects—impotent things.

The concrete of the will & understanding I might call mind; not person, lest offence be given. Mem. Carefully to omit defining of person, or making much mention of it.

You ask, do these volitions make one Will? Wt you ask is meerly about a word—unity being no more147.

N. B. To use utmost caution not to give the least handle of offence to the Church or Churchmen.

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Even to speak somewhat favourably of the Schoolmen, and shew that they who blame them for jargon are not free of it themselves. Introd.

Locke's great oversight seems to be that he did not begin with his third book; at least that he had not some thought of it at first. Certainly the 2d & 4th books don't agree wth wt he says in ye 3d148.

If Matter149 is once allow'd to exist, clippings of weeds and parings of nails may think, for ought that Locke can tell; tho' he seems positive of the contrary.

Since I say men cannot mistake in short reasoning about things demonstrable, if they lay aside words, it will be expected this Treatise will contain nothing but wt is certain & evident demonstration, & in truth I hope you will find nothing in it but what is such. Certainly I take it all for such. Introd.

When I say I will reject all propositions wherein I know not fully and adequately and clearly, so far as knowable, the thing meant thereby, this is not to be extended to propositions in the Scripture. I speak of matters of Reason and Philosophy—not Revelation. In this I think an humble, implicit faith becomes us (when we cannot comprehend or understand the proposition), such as a popish peasant gives to propositions he hears at mass in Latin. This proud men may call blind, popish, implicit, irrational. For my part I think it is more irrational to pretend to dispute at, cavil, and ridicule holy mysteries, i.e. propositions about things that are altogether above our knowledge, out of our reach. When I shall come to plenary knowledge of the meaning of any fact, then I shall yield an explicit belief. Introd.

Complexation of ideas twofold. Ys refers to colours being complex ideas.

Considering length without breadth is considering any length, be the breadth wt it will.

I may say earth, plants, &c. were created before man—there being other intelligences to perceive them, before man was created150.

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There is a philosopher151 who says we can get an idea of substance by no way of sensation or reflection, & seems to imagine that we want a sense proper for it. Truly if we had a new sense it could only give us a new idea. Now I suppose he will not say substance, according to him, is an idea. For my part, I own I have no idea can stand for substance in his and the Schoolmen's sense of that word. But take it in the common vulgar sense, & then we see and feel substance.

N. B. That not common usage, but the Schoolmen coined the word Existence, supposed to stand for an abstract general idea.

Writers of Optics mistaken in their principles both in judging of magnitudes and distances.

'Tis evident yt wn the solitary man should be taught to speak, the words would give him no other new ideas (save only the sounds, and complex ideas which, tho' unknown before, may be signified by language) beside wt he had before. If he had not, could not have, an abstract idea before, he cannot have it after he is taught to speak.

“Homo est homo,” &c. comes at last to Petrus est Petrus, &c. Now, if these identical propositions are sought after in the mind, they will not be found. There are no identical mental propositions. 'Tis all about sounds and terms.

Hence we see the doctrine of certainty by ideas, and proving by intermediate ideas, comes to nothing152.

We may have certainty & knowledge without ideas, i.e. without other ideas than the words, and their standing for one idea, i.e. their being to be used indifferently.

It seems to me that we have no certainty about ideas, but only about words. 'Tis improper to say, I am certain I see, I feel, &c. There are no mental propositions [pg 044] form'd answering to these words, & in simple perception 'tis allowed by all there is no affirmation or negation, and consequently no certainty153.

The reason why we can demonstrate so well about signs is, that they are perfectly arbitrary & in our power—made at pleasure.

The obscure ambiguous term relation, which is said to be the largest field of knowledge, confounds us, deceives us.

Let any man shew me a demonstration, not verbal, that does not depend on some false principle; or at best on some principle of nature, which is ye effect of God's will, and we know not how soon it may be changed.

Qu. What becomes of the æternæ veritates? Ans. They vanish154.

But, say you, I find it difficult to look beneath the words and uncover my ideas. Say I, Use will make it easy. In the sequel of my Book the cause of this difficulty shall be more clearly made out.

To view the deformity of error we need onely undress it.

“Cogito ergo sum.” Tautology. No mental proposition answering thereto.

Knowledge, or certainty, or perception of agreement of ideas—as to identity and diversity, and real existence, vanisheth; of relation, becometh merely nominal; of co-existence, remaineth. Locke thought in this latter our knowledge was little or nothing. Whereas in this only real knowledge seemeth to be found155.

We must wth the mob place certainty in the senses156.

'Tis a man's duty, 'tis the fruit of friendship, to speak well of his friend. Wonder not therefore that I do wt I do.

A man of slow parts may overtake truth, &c. Introd. Even my shortsightedness might perhaps be aiding to me in this matter—'twill make me bring the object nearer to my thoughts. A purblind person, &c. Introd.

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Locke to Limborch, &c. Talk of judicium intellectus preceding the volition: I think judicium includes volition. I can by no means distinguish these—judicium, intellectus, indifferentia, uneasiness to many things accompanying or preceding every volition, as e.g. the motion of my hand.

Qu. Wt mean you by my perceptions, my volitions? Both all the perceptions I perceive or conceive157, &c. are mine; all the volitions I am conscious to are mine.

Homo est agens liberum. What mean they by homo and agens in this place?

Will any man say that brutes have ideas of Unity & Existence? I believe not. Yet if they are suggested by all the ways of sensation, 'tis strange they should want them158.

It is a strange thing and deserves our attention, that the more time and pains men have consum'd in the study of philosophy, by so much the more they look upon themselves to be ignorant & weak creatures. They discover flaws and imperfections in their faculties wch other men never spy out. They find themselves under a necessity of admitting many inconsistent, irreconcilable opinions for true. There is nothing they touch with their hand, or behold with their eyes, but has its dark sides much larger and more numerous than wt is perceived, & at length turn scepticks, at least in most things. I imagine all this proceeds from, &c. Exord. Introd.159

These men with a supercilious pride disdain the common single information of sense. They grasp at knowledge by sheafs & bundles. ('Tis well if, catching at too much at once, they hold nothing but emptiness & air.) They in the depth of their understanding contemplate abstract ideas.

It seems not improbable that the most comprehensive & sublime intellects see more m.v.'s at once, i.e. that their visual systems are the largest.

Words (by them meaning all sorts of signs) are so necessary that, instead of being (wn duly us'd or in their own nature) prejudicial to the advancement of knowledge, [pg 046] or an hindrance to knowledge, without them there could in mathematiques themselves be no demonstration.

Mem. To be eternally banishing Metaphisics, &c., and recalling men to Common Sense160.

We cannot conceive other minds besides our own but as so many selves. We suppose ourselves affected wth such & such thoughts & such and such sensations161.

Qu. whether composition of ideas be not that faculty which chiefly serves to discriminate us from brutes? I question whether a brute does or can imagine a blue horse or chimera.

Naturalists do not distinguish betwixt cause and occasion. Useful to enquire after co-existing ideas or occasions.

Morality may be demonstrated as mixt mathematics.

Perception is passive, but this not distinct from idea. Therefore there can be no idea of volition.

Algebraic species or letters are denominations of denominations. Therefore Arithmetic to be treated of before Algebra.

2 crowns are called ten shillings. Hence may appear the value of numbers.

Complex ideas are the creatures of the mind. Hence may appear the nature of numbers. This to be deeply discuss'd.

I am better informed & shall know more by telling me there are 10,000 men, than by shewing me them all drawn up. I shall better be able to judge of the bargain you'd have me make wn you tell me how much (i.e. the name of ye) money lies on the table, than by offering and shewing it without naming. I regard not the idea, the looks, but the names. Hence may appear the nature of numbers.

Children are unacquainted with numbers till they have made some progress in language. This could not be if they were ideas suggested by all the senses.

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Numbers are nothing but names—never words.

Mem. Imaginary roots—to unravel that mystery.

Ideas of utility are annexed to numbers.

In arithmetical problems men seek not any idea of number. They only seek a denomination. This is all can be of use to them.

Take away the signs from Arithmetic and Algebra, and pray wt remains?

These are sciences purely verbal, and entirely useless but for practice in societies of men. No speculative knowledge, no comparing of ideas in them162.

Qu. whether Geometry may not properly be reckon'd amongst the mixt mathematics—Arithmetic & Algebra being the only abstracted pure, i.e. entirely nominal—Geometry being an application of these to points163?

Locke of Trifling Propositions. [b. 4. c. 8] Mem. Well to observe & con over that chapter.

Existence, Extension, &c. are abstract, i.e. no ideas. They are words, unknown and useless to the vulgar.

Sensual pleasure is the summum bonum. This the great principle of morality. This once rightly understood, all the doctrines, even the severest of the Gospels, may clearly be demonstrated.

Sensual pleasure, quâ pleasure, is good & desirable by a wise man164. But if it be contemptible, 'tis not quâ pleasure but quâ pain, or cause of pain, or (which is the same thing) of loss of greater pleasure.

Wn I consider, the more objects we see at once the more distant they are, and that eye which beholds a great many things can see none of them near.

By idea I mean any sensible or imaginable thing165.

To be sure or certain of wt we do not actually perceive166 (I say perceive, not imagine), we must not be altogether [pg 048] passive; there must be a disposition to act; there must be assent, wch is active. Nay, what do I talk; there must be actual volition.

What do we demonstrate in Geometry but that lines are equal or unequal? i.e. may not be called by the same name167.

I approve of this axiom of the Schoolmen, “Nihil est in intellectu quod non prius fuit in sensu.”168 I wish they had stuck to it. It had never taught them the doctrine of abstract ideas.

“Nihil dat quod non habet,” or, the effect is contained in the cause, is an axiom I do not understand or believe to be true.

Whoever shall cast his eyes on the writings of old or new philosophers, and see the noise is made about formal and objective Being, Will, &c.

Absurd to argue the existence of God from his idea. We have no idea of God. 'Tis impossible169.

Cause of much errour & confusion that men knew not what was meant by Reality170.

Des Cartes, in Med. 2, says the notion of this particular wax is less clear than that of wax in general; and in the same Med., a little before, he forbears to consider bodies in general, because (says he) these general conceptions are usually confused.

Des Cartes, in Med. 3, calls himself a thinking substance, and a stone an extended substance; and adds that they both agree in this, that they are substances. And in the next paragraph he calls extension a mode of substance.

'Tis commonly said by the philosophers, that if the soul of man were self-existent it would have given itself all possible perfection. This I do not understand.

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Mem. To excite men to the pleasures of the eye & the ear, which surfeit not, nor bring those evils after them, as others.

We see no variety or difference betwixt volitions, only between their effects. 'Tis one Will, one Act—distinguished by the effects. This Will, this Act, is the Spirit, i.e. operative principle, soul, &c. No mention of fears and jealousies, nothing like a party.

Locke in his 4th Book171, and Des Cartes in Med. 6, use the same argument for the existence of objects, viz. that sometimes we see, feel, &c. against our will.

While I exist or have any idea, I am eternally, constantly willing; my acquiescing in the present state is willing.

The existence of any thing imaginable is nothing different from imagination or perception172. Volition or Will, Wch is not imaginable, regard must not be had to its existence(?) ... First Book.

There are four sorts of propositions:—“Gold is a metal;” “Gold is yellow;” “Gold is fixt;” “Gold is not a stone”—of which the first, second, and third are only nominal, and have no mental propositions answering them.

Mem. In vindication of the senses effectually to confute what Des Cartes saith in the last par. of the last Med., viz. that the senses oftener inform him falsely than truely—that sense of pain tells me not my foot is bruised or broken, but I, having frequently observed these two ideas, viz. of that peculiar pain and bruised foot go together, do erroneously take them to be inseparable by a necessity of Nature—as if Nature were anything but the ordinance of the free will of God173.

Des Cartes owns we know not a substance immediately by itself, but by this alone, that it is the subject of several acts. Ans. to 2d objection of Hobbs.

Hobbs in some degree falls in with Locke, saying thought is to the mind or himself as dancing to the dancer. Object.

Hobbs in his Object. 3 ridicules those expressions of [pg 050] the scholastiques—“the will wills,” &c. So does Locke. I am of another mind174.

Des Cartes, in answer to Object. 3 of Hobbs, owns he is distinct from thought as a thing from its modus or manner.

Opinion that existence was distinct from perception of horrible consequence. It is the foundation of Hobbs's doctrine, &c.

Malbranch in his illustration175 differs widely from me. He doubts of the existence of bodies. I doubt not in the least of this.

I differ from Cartesians in that I make extension, colour, &c. to exist really in bodies independent of our mind176. All ye carefully and lucidly to be set forth.

Not to mention the combinations of powers, but to say the things—the effects themselves—do really exist, even wn not actually perceived; but still with relation to perception177.

The great use of the Indian figures above the Roman shews arithmetic to be about signs, not ideas—or at least not ideas different from the characters themselves178.

Reasoning there may be about things or ideas, or about actions; but demonstration can be only verbal. I question, no matter &c.

Quoth Des Cartes, The idea of God is not made by me, for I can neither add to nor subtract from it. No more can he add to or take from any other idea, even of his own making.

The not distinguishing 'twixt Will and ideas is a grand mistake with Hobbs. He takes those things for nothing which are not ideas179.

Say you, At this rate all's nothing but idea—mere phantasm. I answer, Everything as real as ever. I hope to call a thing idea makes it not the less real. Truly I should perhaps have stuck to the word thing, and not mentioned [pg 051] the word idea, were it not for a reason, and I think a good one too, which I shall give in the Second Book180.

Idea is the object of thought. Yt I think on, whatever it be, I call idea. Thought itself, or thinking, is no idea. 'Tis an act—i.e. volition, i.e. as contradistinguished to effects—the Will.

Locke, in B. 4. c. 5, assigns not the right cause why mental propositions are so difficult. It is not because of complex but because of abstract ideas. Ye idea of a horse is as complex as that of fortitude. Yet in saying the “horse is white” I form a mental proposition with ease. But when I say “fortitude is a virtue” I shall find a mental proposition hard, or not at all to be come at.

Pure intellect I understand not181.

Locke is in ye right in those things wherein he differs from ye Cartesians, and they cannot but allow of his opinions, if they stick to their own principles or causes of Existence & other abstract ideas.

The properties of all things are in God, i.e. there is in the Deity Understanding as well as Will. He is no blind agent, and in truth a blind agent is a contradiction182.

I am certain there is a God, tho' I do not perceive Him—have no intuition of Him. This not difficult if we rightly understand wt is meant by certainty.

It seems that the Soul, taken for the Will, is immortal, incorruptible.

Qu. whether perception must of necessity precede volition?

Error is not in the Understanding, but in the Will. What I understand or perceive, that I understand. There can be no errour in this.

Mem. To take notice of Locke's woman afraid of a wetting, in the Introd., to shew there may be reasoning about ideas or things.

Say Des Cartes & Malbranch, God hath given us strong inclinations to think our ideas proceed from bodies, or that [pg 052] bodies do exist. Pray wt mean they by this? Would they have it that the ideas of imagination are images of, and proceed from, the ideas of sense? This is true, but cannot be their meaning; for they speak of ideas of sense as themselves proceeding from, being like unto—I know not wt183.

Cartesius per ideam vult omne id quod habet esse objectivum in intellectu. V. Tract. de Methodo.

Qu. May there not be an Understanding without a Will?

Understanding is in some sort an action.

Silly of Hobbs, &c. to speak of the Will as if it were motion, with which it has no likeness.

Ideas of Sense are the real things or archetypes. Ideas of imagination, dreams, &c. are copies, images, of these.

My doctrines rightly understood, all that philosophy of Epicurus, Hobbs, Spinosa, &c., which has been a declared enemy of religion, comes to the ground.

Hobbs & Spinosa make God extended. Locke also seems to do the same184.

Ens, res, aliquid dicuntur termini transcendentales. Spinosa, p. 76, prop. 40, Eth. part 2, gives an odd account of their original. Also of the original of all universals—Homo, Canis, &c.

Spinosa (vid. Præf. Opera Posthum.) will have God to be “omnium rerum causa immanens,” and to countenance this produces that of St. Paul, “in Him we live,” &c. Now this of St. Paul may be explained by my doctrine as well as Spinosa's, or Locke's, or Hobbs's, or Raphson's185, &c.

The Will is purus actus, or rather pure spirit not imaginable, [pg 053] not sensible, not intelligible, in no wise the object of the understanding, no wise perceivable.

Substance of a spirit is that it acts, causes, wills, operates, or if you please (to avoid the quibble yt may be made of the word “it”) to act, cause, will, operate. Its substance is not knowable, not being an idea.

Why may we not conceive it possible for God to create things out of nothing? Certainly we ourselves create in some wise whenever we imagine.

“Ex nihilo nihil fit.” This (saith Spinoza, Opera Posth. p. 464) and the like are called veritates æternæ, because “nullam fidem habent extra mentem.” To make this axiom have a positive signification, one should express it thus: Every idea has a cause, i.e. is produced by a Will186.

The philosophers talk much of a distinction 'twixt absolute & relative things, or 'twixt things considered in their own nature & the same things considered with respect to us. I know not wt they mean by “things considered in themselves.” This is nonsense, jargon.

It seems there can be no perception—no idea—without Will, seeing there are no ideas so indifferent but one had rather have them than annihilation, or annihilation than them. Or if there be such an equal balance, there must be an equal mixture of pleasure and pain to cause it; there being no ideas perfectly void of all pain & uneasiness, but wt are preferable to annihilation.

Recipe in animum tuum, per cogitationem vehementem, rerum ipsarum, non literarum aut sonorum imagines. Hobbs against Wallis.

'Tis a perfection we may imagine in superior spirits, that they can see a great deal at once with the utmost clearness and distinction; whereas we can only see a point187.

Mem. Wn I treat of mathematiques to enquire into the controversy 'twixt Hobbes and Wallis.

[pg 054]

Every sensation of mine, which happens in consequence of the general known laws of nature, & is from without, i.e. independent of my will, demonstrates the being of a God, i.e. of an unextended, incorporeal spirit, which is omnipresent, omnipotent, &c.

I say not with J.S. [John Sergeant] that we see solids. I reject his “solid philosophy”—solidity being only perceived by touch188.

It seems to me that will and understanding—volitions and ideas—cannot be separated, that either cannot be possibly without the other.

Some ideas or other I must have, so long as I exist or will. But no one idea or sort of ideas being essential189.

The distinction between idea and ideatum I cannot otherwise conceive than by making one the effect or consequence of dream, reverie, imagination—the other of sense and the constant laws of nature.

Dico quod extensio non concipitur in se et per se, contra quam dicit Spinoza in Epist. 2a ad Oldenburgium.

My definition of the word God I think much clearer than those of Des Cartes & Spinoza, viz. “Ens summe perfectum & absolute infinitum,” or “Ens constans infinitis attributis, quorum unumquodque est infinitum190.”

'Tis chiefly the connexion betwixt tangible and visible ideas that deceives, and not the visible ideas themselves.

But the grand mistake is that we know not what we mean by “we,” or “selves,” or “mind,” &c. 'Tis most sure & certain that our ideas are distinct from the mind, i.e. the Will, the Spirit191.

I must not mention the understanding as a faculty or [pg 055] part of the mind. I must include understanding & will in the word Spirit—by which I mean all that is active. I must not say that the understanding diners not from the particular ideas, or the will from particular volitions.

The Spirit, the Mind, is neither a volition nor an idea.

I say there are no causes (properly speaking) but spiritual, nothing active but Spirit. Say you, This is only verbal; 'tis only annexing a new sort of signification to the word cause, & why may not others as well retain the old one, and call one idea the cause of another which always follows it? I answer, If you do so I shall drive you into many absurditys: you cannot avoid running into opinions you'll be glad to disown, if you stick firmly to that signification of the word Cause.

In valuing good we reckon too much on the present & our own.

There be two sorts of pleasure. The one is ordained as a spur or incitement to somewhat else, & has a visible relation and subordination thereto; the other is not. Thus the pleasure of eating is of the former sort, of musick of the later sort. These may be used for recreation, those not but in order to their end.

Three sorts of useful knowledge—that of Coexistence, to be treated of in our Principles of Natural Philosophy; that of Relation, in Mathematiques; that of Definition, or inclusion, or words (which perhaps differs not from that of relation), in Morality192.

Will, understanding, desire, hatred, &c., so far forth as they are acts or active, differ not. All their difference consists in their objects, circumstances, &c.

We must carefully distinguish betwixt two sorts of causes—physical & spiritual.

The physical may more properly be called occasions. Yet (to comply) we may call them causes—but then we must mean causes yt do nothing.

According to Locke, we must be in an eternal uneasiness [pg 056] so long as we live, bating the time of sleep or trance, &c.; for he will have even the continuance of an action to be in his sense an action, & so requires a volition, & this an uneasiness.

I must not pretend to promise much of demonstration. I must cancell all passages that look like that sort of pride, that raising of expectation in my friend.

If this be the case, surely a man had better not philosophize at all: no more than a deformed person ought to cavil to behold himself by the reflex light of a mirrour.

Or thus, like deformed persons who, having beheld themselves by the reflex light of a mirrour, are displeased with their diseases.

What can an idea be like but another idea? We can compare it with nothing else—a sound like a sound, a colour like a colour.

Is it not nonsense to say a smell is like a thing which cannot be smelt, a colour is like a thing wh cannot be seen?

Bodies exist without the mind, i.e. are not the mind, but distinct from it. This I allow, the mind being altogether different therefrom193.

Certainly we should not see motion if there was no diversity of colours.

Motion is an abstract idea, i.e. there is no such idea that can be conceived by itself.

Contradictions cannot be both true. Men are obliged to answer objections drawn from consequences. Introd.

The Will and Volition are words not used by the vulgar. The learned are bantered by their meaning abstract ideas.

Speculative Math, as if a man was all day making hard knots on purpose to unty them again.

Tho' it might have been otherwise, yet it is convenient the same thing wch is M.V. should be also M.T., or very near it.

I must not give the soul or mind the scholastique name “pure act,” but rather pure spirit, or active being.

[pg 057]

I must not say the Will or Understanding are all one, but that they are both abstract ideas, i.e. none at all—they not being even ratione different from the Spirit, quâ faculties, or active.

Dangerous to make idea & thing terms convertible194. That were the way to prove spirits are nothing.

Qu. whether veritas stands not for an abstract idea?

'Tis plain the moderns must by their own principles own there are no bodies, i.e. no sort of bodies without the mind, i.e. unperceived.

Qu. whether the Will can be the object of prescience or any knowledge?

If there were only one ball in the world, it could not be moved. There could be no variety of appearance.

According to the doctrine of infinite divisibility, there must be some smell of a rose, v. g. at an infinite distance from it.

Extension, tho' it exist only in the mind, yet is no property of the mind. The mind can exist without it, tho' it cannot without the mind. But in Book II. I shall at large shew the difference there is betwixt the Soul and Body or extended being.

'Tis an absurd question wch Locke puts, whether man be free to will?

Mem. To enquire into the reason of the rule for determining questions in Algebra.

It has already been observed by others that names are nowhere of more necessary use than in numbering.

I will grant you that extension, colour, &c. may be said to be without the mind in a double respect, i.e. as independent of our will, and as distinct from the mind.

Certainly it is not impossible but a man may arrive at the knowledge of all real truth as well without as with signs, had he a memory and imagination most strong and capacious. Therefore reasoning & science doth not altogether depend upon words or names195.

[pg 058]

I think not that things fall out of necessity. The connexion of no two ideas is necessary; 'tis all the result of freedom, i.e. 'tis all voluntary196.

If a man with his eyes shut imagines to himself the sun & firmament, you will not say he or his mind is the sun, or is extended, tho' neither sun or firmament be without mind.

'Tis strange to find philosophers doubting & disputing whether they have ideas of spiritual things or no. Surely 'tis easy to know. Vid. De Vries197, De Ideis Innatis, p. 64.

De Vries will have it that we know the mind agrees with things not by idea but sense or conscientia. So will Malbranch. This a vain distinction.

August 28th, 1708. The Adventure of the [Shirt?].

It were to be wished that persons of the greatest birth, honour, & fortune, would take that care of themselves, by education, industry, literature, & a love of virtue, to surpass all other men in knowledge & all other qualifications necessary for great actions, as far as they do in quality & titles; that princes out of them might always chose men fit for all employments and high trusts. Clov. B. 7.

One eternity greater than another of the same kind.

In what sense eternity may be limited.

Whether succession of ideas in the Divine intellect?

Time is the train of ideas succeeding each other.

Duration not distinguish'd from existence.

Succession explain'd by before, between, after, & numbering.

Why time in pain longer than time in pleasure?

Duration infinitely divisible, time not so.

[pg 059]

The same τὸ νῦν not common to all intelligences.

Time thought infinitely divisible on account of its measure.

Extension not infinitely divisible in one sense.

Revolutions immediately measure train of ideas, mediately duration.

Time a sensation; therefore onely in ye mind.

Eternity is onely a train of innumerable ideas. Hence the immortality of ye soul easily conceiv'd, or rather the immortality of the person, that of ye soul not being necessary for ought we can see.

Swiftness of ideas compar'd with yt of motions shews the wisdom of God.

Wt if succession of ideas were swifter, wt if slower?

Fall of Adam, use of idolatry, use of Epicurism & Hobbism, dispute about divisibility of matter, &c. expounded by material substances.

Extension a sensation, therefore not without the mind.

In the immaterial hypothesis, the wall is white, fire hot, &c.

Primary ideas prov'd not to exist in matter; after the same manner yt secondary ones are prov'd not to exist therein.

Demonstrations of the infinite divisibility of extension suppose length without breadth, or invisible length, wch is absurd.

World wthout thought is nec quid, nec quantum, nec quale, &c.

'Tis wondrous to contemplate ye World empty'd of all intelligences.

Nothing properly but Persons, i.e. conscious things, do exist. All other things are not so much existences as manners of ye existence of persons198.

Qu. about the soul, or rather person, whether it be not compleatly known?

Infinite divisibility of extension does suppose the external existence of extension; but the later is false, ergo ye former also.

Qu. Blind man made to see, would he know motion at 1st sight?

Motion, figure, and extension perceivable by sight are [pg 060] different from those ideas perceived by touch wch goe by the same name.

Diagonal incommensurable wth ye side. Quære how this can be in my doctrine?

Qu. how to reconcile Newton's 2 sorts of motion with my doctrine?

Terminations of surfaces & lines not imaginable per se.

Molyneux's blind man would not know the sphere or cube to be bodies or extended at first sight199.

Extension so far from being incompatible wth, yt 'tis impossible it should exist without thought.

Extension itself or anything extended cannot think—these being meer ideas or sensations, whose essence we thoroughly know.

No extension but surface perceivable by sight.

Wn we imagine 2 bowls v. g. moving in vacuo, 'tis only conceiving a person affected with these sensations.

Extension to exist in a thoughtless thing [or rather in a thing void of perception—thought seeming to imply action], is a contradiction.

Qu. if visible motion be proportional to tangible motion?

In some dreams succession of ideas swifter than at other times.

If a piece of matter have extension, that must be determined to a particular bigness & figure, but &c.

Nothing wthout corresponds to our primary ideas but powers. Hence a direct & brief demonstration of an active powerfull Being, distinct from us, on whom we depend.

The name of colours actually given to tangible qualities, by the relation of ye story of the German Count.

Qu. How came visible & tangible qualities by the same name in all languages?

Qu. Whether Being might not be the substance of the soul, or (otherwise thus) whether Being, added to ye faculties, compleat the real essence and adequate definition of the soul?

Qu. Whether, on the supposition of external bodies, it be possible for us to know that any body is absolutely [pg 061] at rest, since that supposing ideas much slower than at present, bodies now apparently moving wd then be apparently at rest?

Qu. What can be like a sensation but a sensation?

Qu. Did ever any man see any other things besides his own ideas, that he should compare them to these, and make these like unto them?

The age of a fly, for ought that we know, may be as long as yt of a man200.

Visible distance heterogeneous from tangible distance demonstrated 3 several ways:—

1st. If a tangible inch be equal or in any other reason to a visible inch, thence it will follow yt unequals are equals, wch is absurd: for at what distance would the visible inch be placed to make it equal to the tangible inch?

2d. One made to see that had not yet seen his own limbs, or any thing he touched, upon sight of a foot length would know it to be a foot length, if tangible foot & visible foot were the same idea—sed falsum id, ergo et hoc.

3dly. From Molyneux's problem, wch otherwise is falsely solv'd by Locke and him201.

Nothing but ideas perceivable202.

A man cannot compare 2 things together without perceiving them each. Ergo, he cannot say anything wch is not an idea is like or unlike an idea.

Bodies &c. do exist even wn not perceived—they being powers in the active being203.

Succession a simple idea, [succession is an abstract, i.e. an inconceivable idea,] Locke says204.

Visible extension is [proportional to tangible extension, also is] encreated & diminish'd by parts. Hence taken for the same.

[pg 062]

If extension be without the mind in bodies. Qu. whether tangible or visible, or both?

Mathematical propositions about extension & motion true in a double sense.

Extension thought peculiarly inert, because not accompany'd wth pleasure & pain: hence thought to exist in matter; as also for that it was conceiv'd common to 2 senses, [as also the constant perception of 'em].

Blind at 1st sight could not tell how near what he saw was to him, nor even whether it be wthout him or in his eye205. Qu. Would he not think the later?

Blind at 1st sight could not know yt wt he saw was extended, until he had seen and touched some one self-same thing—not knowing how minimum tangibile would look in vision.

Mem. That homogeneous particles be brought in to answer the objection of God's creating sun, plants, &c. before animals.

In every bodie two infinite series of extension—the one of tangible, the other of visible.

All things to a blind [man] at first seen in a point.

Ignorance of glasses made men think extension to be in bodies.

Homogeneous portions of matter—useful to contemplate them.

Extension if in matter changes its relation wth minimum visibile, wch seems to be fixt.

Qu. whether m.v. be fix'd?

Each particle of matter if extended must be infinitely extended, or have an infinite series of extension.

If the world be granted to consist of Matter, 'tis the mind gives it beauty and proportion.

Wt I have said onely proves there is no proportion at all times and in all men between a visible & tangible inch.

Tangible and visible extension heterogeneous, because they have no common measure; also because their simplest constituent parts or elements are specifically different, viz. punctum visibile & tangibile. N. B. The former seems to be no good reason.

[pg 063]

By immateriality is solv'd the cohesion of bodies, or rather the dispute ceases.

Our idea we call extension neither way capable of infinity, i.e. neither infinitely small or great.

Greatest possible extension seen under an angle wch will be less than 180 degrees, the legs of wch angle proceed from the ends of the extension.

Allowing there be extended, solid, &c. substances without the mind, 'tis impossible the mind should know or perceive them; the mind, even according to the materialists, perceiving onely the impressions made upon its brain, or rather the ideas attending these impressions206.

Unity in abstracto not at all divisible, it being as it were a point, or with Barrow nothing at all; in concreto not divisible ad infinitum, there being no one idea demonstrable ad infinitum.

Any subject can have of each sort of primary qualities but one particular at once. Locke, b. 4. c. 3. s. 15.

Qu. whether we have clear ideas of large numbers themselves, or onely of their relations?

Of solidity see L. b. 2. c. 4. s. 1, 5, 6. If any one ask wt solidity is, let him put a flint between his hands and he will know. Extension of body is continuity of solid, &c.; extension of space is continuity of unsolid, &c.

Why may not I say visible extension is a continuity of visible points, tangible extension is a continuity of tangible points?

Mem. That I take notice that I do not fall in wth sceptics, Fardella207, &c., in that I make bodies to exist certainly, wch they doubt of.

I am more certain of ye existence & reality of bodies than Mr. Locke; since he pretends onely to wt he calls sensitive knowledge208, whereas I think I have demonstrative [pg 064] knowledge of their existence—by them meaning combinations of powers in an unknown substratum209.

Our ideas we call figure & extension, not images of the figure and extension of matter; these (if such there be) being infinitely divisible, those not so.

'Tis impossible a material cube should exist, because the edges of a cube will appear broad to an acute sense.

Men die, or are in [a] state of annihilation, oft in a day.

Powers. Qu. whether more or one onely?

Lengths abstract from breadths are the work of the mind. Such do intersect in a point at all angles. After the same way colour is abstract from extension.

Every position alters the line.

Qu. whether ideas of extension are made up of other ideas, v.g. idea of a foot made up of general ideas of an inch?

The idea of an inch length not one determin'd idea. Hence enquire the reason why we are out in judging of extension by the sight; for which purpose 'tis meet also to consider the frequent & sudden changes of extension by position.

No stated ideas of length without a minimum.

Material substance banter'd by Locke, b. 2. c. 13. s. 19.

In my doctrine all absurdities from infinite space &c. cease210.

Qu. whether if (speaking grossly) the things we see were all of them at all times too small to be felt, we should have confounded tangible & visible extension and figure?

Qu. whether if succession of ideas in the Eternal Mind, a day does not seem to God a 1000 years, rather than a 1000 years a day?

But one only colour & its degrees.

[pg 065]

Enquiry about a grand mistake in writers of dioptricks in assigning the cause of microscopes magnifying objects.

Qu. whether a born-blind [man] made to see would at 1st give the name of distance to any idea intromitted by sight; since he would take distance yt that he had perceived by touch to be something existing without his mind, but he would certainly think that nothing seen was without his mind211?

Space without any bodies existing in rerum natura would not be extended, as not having parts—in that parts are assigned to it wth respect to body; from whence also the notion of distance is taken. Now without either parts or distance or mind, how can there be Space, or anything beside one uniform Nothing?

Two demonstrations that blind made to see would not take all things he saw to be without his mind, or not in a point—the one from microscopic eyes, the other from not perceiving distance, i.e. radius of the visual sphere.

The trees are in the park, i.e. whether I will or no, whether I imagine anything about them or no. Let me but go thither and open my eyes by day, & I shall not avoid seeing them.

By extension blind [man] would mean either the perception caused in his touch by something he calls extended, or else the power of raising that perception; wch power is without, in the thing termed extended. Now he could not know either of these to be in things visible till he had try'd.

Geometry seems to have for its object tangible extension, figures, & motion—and not visible212.

A man will say a body will seem as big as before, tho' the visible idea it yields be less than wt it was; therefore the bigness or tangible extension of the body is different from the visible extension.

Extension or space no simple idea—length, breadth, & solidity being three several ideas.

[pg 066]

Depth or solidity now perceived by sight213.

Strange impotence of men. Man without God wretcheder than a stone or tree; he having onely the power to be miserable by his unperformed wills, these having no power at all214.

Length perceivable by hearing—length & breadth by sight—length, breadth, & depth by touch.

Wt affects us must be a thinking thing, for wt thinks not cannot subsist.

Number not in bodies, it being the creature of the mind, depending entirely on its consideration, & being more or less as the mind pleases215.

Mem. Quære whether extension be equally a sensation with colour? The mob use not the word extension. 'Tis an abstract term of the Schools.

Round figure a perception or sensation in the mind, but in the body is a power. L[ocke], b. 2. c. 8. s. 8.

Mem. Mark well the later part of the last cited section.

Solids, or any other tangible things, are no otherwise seen than colours felt by the German Count.

“Of” and “thing” causes of mistake.

The visible point of he who has microscopical eyes will not be greater or less than mine.

Qu. Whether the propositions & even axioms of geometry do not divers of them suppose the existence of lines &c. without the mind?

Whether motion be the measure of duration? Locke, b. 2. c. 14. s. 19.

Lines & points conceiv'd as terminations different ideas from those conceiv'd absolutely.

Every position alters a line.

Blind man at 1st would not take colours to be without his mind; but colours would seem to be in the same place with the coloured extension: therefore extension wd not seem to be without the mind.

[pg 067]

All visible concentric circles whereof the eye is the centre are absolutely equal.

Infinite number—why absurd—not rightly solv'd by Locke216.

Qu. how 'tis possible we should see flats or right lines?

Qu. why the moon appears greatest in the horizon217?

Qu. why we see things erect when painted inverted218?

Question put by Mr. Deering touching the thief and paradise.

Matter tho' allowed to exist may be no greater than a pin's head.

Motion is proportionable to space described in given time.

Velocity not proportionable to space describ'd in given time.

No active power but the Will: therefore Matter, if it exists, affects us not219.

Magnitude when barely taken for the ratio partium extra partes, or rather for co-existence & succession, without considering the parts co-existing & succeeding, is infinitely, or rather indefinitely, or not at all perhaps, divisible, because it is itself infinite or indefinite. But definite, determined magnitudes, i.e. lines or surfaces consisting of points whereby (together wth distance & position) they are determin'd, are resoluble into those points.

Again. Magnitude taken for co-existence and succession is not all divisible, but is one simple idea.

Simple ideas include no parts nor relations—hardly separated and considered in themselves—nor yet rightly singled by any author. Instance in power, red, extension, &c.

Space not imaginable by any idea received from sight—not imaginable without body moving. Not even then necessarily existing (I speak of infinite space)—for wt the body has past may be conceiv'd annihilated.

[pg 068]

Qu. What can we see beside colours? what can we feel beside hard, soft, cold, warm, pleasure, pain?

Qu. Why not taste & smell extension?

Qu. Why not tangible & visible extensions thought heterogeneous extensions, so well as gustable & olefactible perceptions thought heterogeneous perceptions? or at least why not as heterogeneous as blue & red?

Moon wn horizontal does not appear bigger as to visible extension than at other times; hence difficulties and disputes about things seen under equal angles &c. cease.

All potentiæ alike indifferent.

A. B. Wt does he mean by his potentia? Is it the will, desire, person, or all or neither, or sometimes one, sometimes t'other?

No agent can be conceiv'd indifferent as to pain or pleasure.

We do not, properly speaking, in a strict philosophical sense, make objects more or less pleasant; but the laws of nature do that.

A finite intelligence might have foreseen 4 thousand years agoe the place and circumstances, even the most minute & trivial, of my present existence. This true on supposition that uneasiness determines the will.

Doctrines of liberty, prescience, &c. explained by billiard balls.

Wt judgement would he make of uppermost and lowermost who had always seen through an inverting glass?

All lines subtending the same optic angle congruent (as is evident by an easy experiment); therefore they are equal.

We have not pure simple ideas of blue, red, or any other colour (except perhaps black) because all bodies reflect heterogeneal light.

Qu. Whether this be true as to sounds (& other sensations), there being, perhaps, rays of air wch will onely exhibit one particular sound, as rays of light one particular colour.

Colours not definable, not because they are pure unmixt thoughts, but because we cannot easily distinguish & separate the thoughts they include, or because we want names for their component ideas.

[pg 069]

By Soul is meant onely a complex idea, made up of existence, willing, & perception in a large sense. Therefore it is known and it may be defined.

We cannot possibly conceive any active power but the Will.

In moral matters men think ('tis true) that they are free; but this freedom is only the freedom of doing as they please; wch freedom is consecutive to the Will, respecting only the operative faculties220.

Men impute their actions to themselves because they will'd them, and that not out of ignorance, but whereas they have the consequences of them, whether good or bad.

This does not prove men to be indifferent in respect of desiring.

If anything is meant by the potentia of A. B. it must be desire; but I appeal to any man if his desire be indifferent, or (to speak more to the purpose) whether he himself be indifferent in respect of wt he desires till after he has desired it; for as for desire itself, or the faculty of desiring, that is indifferent, as all other faculties are.

Actions leading to heaven are in my power if I will them: therefore I will will them.

Qu. concerning the procession of Wills in infinitum.

Herein mathematiques have the advantage over metaphysiques and morality. Their definitions, being of words not yet known to ye learner, are not disputed; but words in metaphysiques & morality, being mostly known to all, the definitions of them may chance to be contraverted.

The short jejune way in mathematiques will not do in metaphysiques & ethiques: for yt about mathematical propositions men have no prejudices, no anticipated opinions to be encounter'd; they not having yet thought on such matters. 'Tis not so in the other 2 mentioned sciences. A man must [there] not onely demonstrate the truth, he must also vindicate it against scruples and established opinions which contradict it. In short, the dry, strigose221, rigid way will not suffice. He must be more ample & copious, else his demonstration, tho' never so exact, will not go down with most.

[pg 070]

Extension seems to consist in variety of homogeneal thoughts co-existing without mixture.

Or rather visible extension seems to be the co-existence of colour in the mind.

Enquiring and judging are actions which depend on the operative faculties, wch depend on the Will, wch is determin'd by some uneasiness; ergo &c. Suppose an agent wch is finite perfectly indifferent, and as to desiring not determin'd by any prospect or consideration of good, I say, this agent cannot do an action morally good. Hence 'tis evident the suppositions of A. B. are insignificant.

Extension, motion, time, number are no simple ideas, but include succession to them, which seems to be a simple idea.

Mem. To enquire into the angle of contact, & into fluxions, &c.

The sphere of vision is equal whether I look onely in my hand or on the open firmament, for 1st, in both cases the retina is full; 2d, the radius's of both spheres are equall or rather nothing at all to the sight; 3dly, equal numbers of points in one & t'other.

In the Barrovian case purblind would judge aright.

Why the horizontal moon greater?

Why objects seen erect?

To what purpose certain figure and texture connected wth other perceptions?

Men estimate magnitudes both by angles and distance. Blind at 1st could not know distance; or by pure sight, abstracting from experience of connexion of sight and tangible ideas, we can't perceive distance. Therefore by pure sight we cannot perceive or judge of extension.

Qu. Whether it be possible to enlarge our sight or make us see at once more, or more points, than we do, by diminishing the punctum visibile below 30 minutes?

Speech metaphorical more than we imagine; insensible things, & their modes, circumstances, &c. being exprest for the most part by words borrow'd from things sensible. Hence manyfold mistakes.

The grand mistake is that we think we have ideas of the [pg 071] operations of our minds222. Certainly this metaphorical dress is an argument we have not.

Qu. How can our idea of God be complex & compounded, when his essence is simple & uncompounded? V. Locke, b. 2. c. 23. s. 35223.

The impossibility of defining or discoursing clearly of such things proceeds from the fault & scantiness of language, as much perhaps as from obscurity & confusion of thought. Hence I may clearly and fully understand my own soul, extension, &c., and not be able to define them224.

The substance wood a collection of simple ideas. See Locke, b. 2. c. 26. s. 1.

Mem. concerning strait lines seen to look at them through an orbicular lattice.

Qu. Whether possible that those visible ideas wch are now connected with greater tangible extensions could have been connected with lesser tangible extensions,—there seeming to be no necessary connexion between those thoughts?

Speculums seem to diminish or enlarge objects not by altering the optique angle, but by altering the apparent distance.

Hence Qu. if blind would think things diminish'd by convexes, or enlarg'd by concaves?

Motion not one idea. It cannot be perceived at once.

Mem. To allow existence to colours in the dark, persons not thinking, &c.—but not an actual existence. 'Tis prudent to correct men's mistakes without altering their language. This makes truth glide into their souls insensibly225.

Colours in ye dark do exist really, i.e. were there light; or as soon as light comes, we shall see them, provided we open our eyes; and that whether we will or no.

How the retina is fill'd by a looking-glass?

Convex speculums have the same effect wth concave glasses.

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Qu. Whether concave speculums have the same effect wth convex glasses?

The reason why convex speculums diminish & concave magnify not yet fully assign'd by any writer I know.

Qu. Why not objects seen confus'd when that they seem inverted through a convex lens?

Qu. How to make a glass or speculum which shall magnify or diminish by altering the distance without altering the angle?

No identity (other than perfect likeness) in any individuals besides persons226.

As well make tastes, smells, fear, shame, wit, virtue, vice, & all thoughts move wth local motion as immaterial spirit.

On account of my doctrine, the identity of finite substances must consist in something else than continued existence, or relation to determined time & place of beginning to exist—the existence of our thoughts (which being combined make all substances) being frequently interrupted, & they having divers beginnings & endings.

Qu. Whether identity of person consists not in the Will?

No necessary connexion between great or little optique angles and great or little extension.

Distance is not perceived: optique angles are not perceived. How then is extension perceiv'd by sight?

Apparent magnitude of a line is not simply as the optique angle, but directly as the optique angle, & reciprocally as the confusion, &c. (i.e. the other sensations, or want of sensation, that attend near vision). Hence great mistakes in assigning the magnifying power of glasses. Vid. Moly[neux], p. 182.

Glasses or speculums may perhaps magnify or lessen without altering the optique angle, but to no purpose.

Qu. Whether purblind would think objects so much diminished by a convex speculum as another?

Qu. Wherein consists identity of person? Not in actual consciousness; for then I'm not the same person I was this day twelvemonth but while I think of wt I then [pg 073] did. Not in potential; for then all persons may be the same, for ought we know.

Mem. Story of Mr. Deering's aunt.

Two sorts of potential consciousness—natural & præternatural. In the last § but one, I mean the latter.

If by magnitude be meant the proportion anything bears to a determined tangible extension, as inch, foot, &c., this, 'tis plain, cannot be properly & per se perceived by sight; & as for determin'd visible inches, feet, &c., there can be no such thing obtain'd by the meer act of seeing—abstracted from experience, &c.

The greatness per se perceivable by the sight is onely the proportion any visible appearance bears to the others seen at the same time; or (which is the same thing) the proportion of any particular part of the visual orb to the whole. But mark that we perceive not it is an orb, any more than a plain, but by reasoning.

This is all the greatness the pictures have per se.

Hereby meere seeing cannot at all judge of the extension of any object, it not availing to know the object makes such a part of a sphærical surface except we also know the greatness of the sphærical surface; for a point may subtend the same angle wth a mile, & so create as great an image in the retina, i.e. take up as much of the orb.

Men judge of magnitude by faintness and vigorousness, by distinctness and confusion, with some other circumstances, by great & little angles.

Hence 'tis plain the ideas of sight which are now connected with greatness might have been connected wth smallness, and vice versâ: there being no necessary reason why great angles, faintness, and distinctness without straining, should stand for great extension, any more than a great angle, vigorousness, and confusion227.

My end is not to deliver metaphysiques altogether in a general scholastic way, but in some measure to accommodate them to the sciences, and shew how they may be useful in optiques, geometry, &c.228

Qu. Whether per se proportion of visible magnitudes be perceivable by sight? This is put on account of distinctness and confusedness, the act of perception seeming to be [pg 074] as great in viewing any point of the visual orb distinctly, as in viewing the whole confusedly.

Mem. To correct my language & make it as philosophically nice as possible—to avoid giving handle.

If men could without straining alter the convexity of their crystallines, they might magnify or diminish the apparent diameters of objects, the same optic angle remaining.

The bigness in one sense of the pictures in the fund is not determin'd; for the nearer a man views them, the images of them (as well as other objects) will take up the greater room in the fund of his eye.

Mem. Introduction to contain the design of the whole, the nature and manner of demonstrating, &c.

Two sorts of bigness accurately to be distinguished, they being perfectly and toto cælo different—the one the proportion that any one appearance has to the sum of appearances perceived at the same time wth it, wch is proportional to angles, or, if a surface, to segments of sphærical surfaces;—the other is tangible bigness.

Qu. wt would happen if the sphæræ of the retina were enlarged or diminish'd?

We think by the meer act of vision we perceive distance from us, yet we do not; also that we perceive solids, yet we do not; also the inequality of things seen under the same angle, yet we do not.

Why may I not add, We think we see extension by meer vision? Yet we do not.

Extension seems to be perceived by the eye, as thought by the ear.

As long as the same angle determines the minimum visibile to two persons, no different conformation of the eye can make a different appearance of magnitude in the same thing. But, it being possible to try the angle, we may certainly know whether the same thing appears differently big to two persons on account of their eyes.

If a man could see ... objects would appear larger to him than to another; hence there is another sort of purely visible magnitude beside the proportion any appearance bears to the visual sphere, viz. its proportion to the M. V.

Were there but one and the same language in the world, and did children speak it naturally as soon as born, and [pg 075] were it not in the power of men to conceal their thoughts or deceive others, but that there were an inseparable connexion between words & thoughts, so yt posito uno, ponitur alterum by the laws of nature; Qu. would not men think they heard thoughts as much as that they see extension229?

All our ideas are adæquate: our knowledge of the laws of nature is not perfect & adæquate230.

Men are in the right in judging their simple ideas to be in the things themselves. Certainly heat & colour is as much without the mind as figure, motion, time, &c.

We know many things wch we want words to express. Great things discoverable upon this principle. For want of considering wch divers men have run into sundry mistakes, endeavouring to set forth their knowledge by sounds; wch foundering them, they thought the defect was in their knowledge, while in truth it was in their language.

Qu. Whether the sensations of sight arising from a man's head be liker the sensations of touch proceeding from thence or from his legs?

Or, Is it onely the constant & long association of ideas entirely different that makes me judge them the same?

Wt I see is onely variety of colours & light. Wt I feel is hard or soft, hot or cold, rough or smooth, &c. Wt resemblance have these thoughts with those?

A picture painted wth great variety of colours affects the touch in one uniform manner. I cannot therefore conclude that because I see 2, I shall feel 2; because I see angles or inequalities, I shall feel angles or inequalities. How therefore can I—before experience teaches me—know that the visible leggs are (because 2) connected wth the tangible ones, or the visible head (because one) connected wth the tangible head231?

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All things by us conceivable are—

1st, thoughts;

2ndly, powers to receive thoughts;

3rdly, powers to cause thoughts; neither of all wch can possibly exist in an inert, senseless thing.

An object wthout a glass may be seen under as great an angle as wth a glass. A glass therefore does not magnify the appearance by the angle.

Absurd that men should know the soul by idea—ideas being inert, thoughtless. Hence Malbranch confuted232.

I saw gladness in his looks. I saw shame in his face. So I see figure or distance.

Qu. Why things seen confusedly thro' a convex glass are not magnify'd?

Tho' we should judge the horizontal moon to be more distant, why should we therefore judge her to be greater? What connexion betwixt the same angle, further distant, and greaterness?

My doctrine affects the essences of the Corpuscularians.

Perfect circles, &c. exist not without (for none can so exist, whether perfect or no), but in the mind.

Lines thought divisible ad infinitum, because they are suppos'd to exist without. Also because they are thought the same when view'd by the naked eye, & wn view'd thro' magnifying glasses.

They who knew not glasses had not so fair a pretence for the divisibility ad infinitum.

No idea of circle, &c. in abstract.

Metaphysiques as capable of certainty as ethiques, but not so capable to be demonstrated in a geometrical way; because men see clearer & have not so many prejudices in ethiques.

Visible ideas come into the mind very distinct. So do tangible ideas. Hence extension seen & felt. Sounds, tastes, &c. are more blended.

Qu. Why not extension intromitted by the taste in conjunction with the smell—seeing tastes & smells are very distinct ideas?

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Blew and yellow particles mixt, while they exhibit an uniform green, their extension is not perceiv'd; but as soon as they exhibit distinct sensations of blew and yellow, then their extension is perceiv'd.

Distinct perception of visible ideas not so perfect as of tangible—tangible ideas being many at once equally vivid. Hence heterogeneous extension.

Object. Why a mist increases not the apparent magnitude of an object, in proportion to the faintness233?

Mem. To enquire touching the squaring of the circle, &c.

That wch seems smooth & round to the touch may to sight seem quite otherwise. Hence no necessary connexion betwixt visible ideas and tangible ones.

In geometry it is not prov'd that an inch is divisible ad infinitum.

Geometry not conversant about our compleat determined ideas of figures, for these are not divisible ad infinitum.

Particular circles may be squar'd, for the circumference being given a diameter may be found betwixt wch & the true there is not any perceivable difference. Therefore there is no difference—extension being a perception; & a perception not perceivd is contradiction, nonsense, nothing. In vain to alledge the difference may be seen by magnifying-glasses, for in yt case there is ('tis true) a difference perceiv'd, but not between the same ideas, but others much greater, entirely different therefrom234.

Any visible circle possibly perceivable of any man may be squar'd, by the common way, most accurately; or even perceivable by any other being, see he never so acute, i.e. never so small an arch of a circle; this being wt makes the distinction between acute & dull sight, and not the m.v., as men are perhaps apt to think.

The same is true of any tangible circle. Therefore further enquiry of accuracy in squaring or other curves is perfectly needless, & time thrown away.

Mem. To press wt last precedes more homely, & so think on't again.

A meer line or distance is not made up of points, does [pg 078] not exist, cannot be imagin'd, or have an idea framed thereof,—no more than meer colour without extension235.

Mem. A great difference between considering length wthout breadth, & having an idea of, or imagining, length without breadth236.

Malbranch out touching the crystallines diminishing, L. 1. c. 6.

'Tis possible (& perhaps not very improbable, that is, is sometimes so) we may have the greatest pictures from the least objects. Therefore no necessary connexion betwixt visible & tangible ideas. These ideas, viz. great relation to sphæra visualis, or to the m. v. (wch is all that I would have meant by having a greater picture) & faintness, might possibly have stood for or signify'd small tangible extensions. Certainly the greater relation to s. v. and m. v. does frequently, in that men view little objects near the eye.

Malbranch out in asserting we cannot possibly know whether there are 2 men in the world that see a thing of the same bigness. V. L. 1. c. 6.

Diagonal of particular square commensurable wth its side, they both containing a certain number of m. v.

I do not think that surfaces consist of lines, i.e. meer distances. Hence perhaps may be solid that sophism wch would prove the oblique line equal to the perpendicular between 2 parallels.

Suppose an inch represent a mile. 1/1000 of an inch is nothing, but 1/1000 of ye mile represented is something: therefore 1/1000 an inch, tho' nothing, is not to be neglected, because it represents something, i.e. 1/1000 of a mile.

Particular determin'd lines are not divisible ad infinitum, but lines as us'd by geometers are so, they not being determin'd to any particular finite number of points. Yet a geometer (he knows not why) will very readily say he can demonstrate an inch line is divisible ad infinitum.

A body moving in the optique axis not perceiv'd to move by sight merely, and without experience. There is ('tis [pg 079] true) a successive change of ideas,—it seems less and less. But, besides this, there is no visible change of place.

Mem. To enquire most diligently concerning the incommensurability of diagonale & side—whether it does not go on the supposition of units being divisible ad infinitum, i.e. of the extended thing spoken of being divisible ad infinitum (unit being nothing; also v. Barrow, Lect. Geom.), & so the infinite indivisibility deduced therefrom is a petitio principii?

The diagonal is commensurable with the side.

From Malbranch, Locke, & my first arguings it can't be prov'd that extension is not in matter. From Locke's arguings it can't be proved that colours are not in bodies.

Mem. That I was distrustful at 8 years old; and consequently by nature disposed for these new doctrines237.

Qu. How can a line consisting of an unequal number of points be divisible [ad infinitum] in two equals?

Mem. To discuss copiously how & why we do not see the pictures.

Allowing extensions to exist in matter, we cannot know even their proportions—contrary to Malbranch.

I wonder how men cannot see a truth so obvious, as that extension cannot exist without a thinking substance.

Species of all sensible things made by the mind. This prov'd either by turning men's eyes into magnifyers or diminishers.

Yr m. v. is, suppose, less than mine. Let a 3rd person have perfect ideas of both our m. vs. His idea of my m. v. contains his idea of yours, & somewhat more. Therefore 'tis made up of parts: therefore his idea of my m. v. is not perfect or just, which diverts the hypothesis.

Qu. Whether a m. v. or t. be extended?

Mem. The strange errours men run into about the pictures. We think them small because should a man be suppos'd to see them their pictures would take up but little room in the fund of his eye.

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It seems all lines can't be bisected in 2 equall parts. Mem. To examine how the geometers prove the contrary.

'Tis impossible there should be a m. v. less than mine. If there be, mine may become equal to it (because they are homogeneous) by detraction of some part or parts. But it consists not of parts, ergo &c.

Suppose inverting perspectives bound to ye eyes of a child, & continu'd to the years of manhood—when he looks up, or turns up his head, he shall behold wt we call under. Qu. What would he think of up and down238?

I wonder not at my sagacity in discovering the obvious tho' amazing truth. I rather wonder at my stupid inadvertency in not finding it out before—'tis no witchcraft to see.

Our simple ideas are so many simple thoughts or perceptions; a perception cannot exist without a thing to perceive it, or any longer than it is perceiv'd; a thought cannot be in an unthinking thing; one uniform simple thought can be like to nothing but another uniform simple thought. Complex thoughts or ideas are onely an assemblage of simple ideas, and can be the image of nothing, or like unto nothing, but another assemblage of simple ideas, &c.

The Cartesian opinion of light & colours &c. is orthodox enough even in their eyes who think the Scripture expression may favour the common opinion. Why may not mine also? But there is nothing in Scripture that can possibly be wrested to make against me, but, perhaps, many things for me.

Bodies &c. do exist whether we think of 'em or no, they being taken in a twofold sense—

These later exist; tho' perhaps a parte rei it may be one simple perfect power.

Qu. whether the extension of a plain, look'd at straight and slantingly, survey'd minutely & distinctly, or in the bulk and confusedly at once, be the same? N. B. The plain is suppos'd to keep the same distance.

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The ideas we have by a successive, curious inspection of ye minute parts of a plain do not seem to make up the extension of that plain view'd & consider'd all together.

Ignorance in some sort requisite in ye person that should disown the Principle.

Thoughts do most properly signify, or are mostly taken for the interior operations of the mind, wherein the mind is active. Those yt obey not the acts of volition, and in wch the mind is passive, are more properly call'd sensations or perceptions. But yt is all a case of words.

Extension being the collection or distinct co-existence of minimums, i.e. of perceptions intromitted by sight or touch, it cannot be conceiv'd without a perceiving substance.

Malbranch does not prove that the figures & extensions exist not when they are not perceiv'd. Consequently he does not prove, nor can it be prov'd on his principles, that the sorts are the work of the mind, and onely in the mind.

The great argument to prove that extension cannot be in an unthinking substance is, that it cannot be conceiv'd distinct from or without all tangible or visible quality.

Tho' matter be extended wth an indefinite extension, yet the mind makes the sorts. They were not before the mind perceiving them, & even now they are not without the mind. Houses, trees, &c., tho' indefinitely extended matter do exist, are not without the mind.

The great danger of making extension exist without the mind is, that if it does it must be acknowledg'd infinite, immutable, eternal, &c.;—wch will be to make either God extended (wch I think dangerous), or an eternal, immutable, infinite, increate Being beside God.

Finiteness of our minds no excuse for the geometers.

The Principle easily proved by plenty of arguments ad absurdum.

The twofold signification of Bodies, viz.

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These, I say, in conjunction with homogeneous particles, may solve much better the objections from the creation than the supposition that Matter does exist. Upon wch supposition I think they cannot be solv'd.

Bodies taken for powers do exist wn not perceiv'd; but this existence is not actual240. Wn I say a power exists, no more is meant than that if in the light I open my eyes, and look that way, I shall see it, i.e. the body, &c.

Qu. whether blind before sight may not have an idea of light and colours & visible extension, after the same manner as we perceive them wth eyes shut, or in the dark—not imagining, but seeing after a sort?

Visible extension cannot be conceiv'd added to tangible extension. Visible and tangible points can't make one sum. Therefore these extensions are heterogeneous.

A probable method propos'd whereby one may judge whether in near vision there is a greater distance between the crystalline & fund than usual, or whether the crystalline be onely render'd more convex. If the former, then the v. s. is enlarg'd, & the m. v. corresponds to less than 30 minutes, or wtever it us'd to correspond to.

Stated measures, inches, feet, &c., are tangible not visible extensions.

Locke, More, Raphson, &c. seem to make God extended. 'Tis nevertheless of great use to religion to take extension out of our idea of God, & put a power in its place. It seems dangerous to suppose extension, wch is manifestly inert, in God.

But, say you, The thought or perception I call extension is not itself in an unthinking thing or Matter—but it is like something wch is in Matter. Well, say I, Do you apprehend or conceive wt you say extension is like unto, or do you not? If the later, how know you they are alike? How can you compare any things besides your own ideas? If the former, it must be an idea, i.e. perception, thought, [pg 083] or sensation—wch to be in an unperceiving thing is a contradiction241.

I abstain from all flourish & powers of words & figures, using a great plainness & simplicity of simile, having oft found it difficult to understand those that use the lofty & Platonic, or subtil & scholastique strain242.

Whatsoever has any of our ideas in it must perceive; it being that very having, that passive recognition of ideas, that denominates the mind perceiving—that being the very essence of perception, or that wherein perception consists.

The faintness wch alters the appearance of the horizontal moon, rather proceeds from the quantity or grossness of the intermediate atmosphere, than from any change of distance, wch is perhaps not considerable enough to be a total cause, but may be a partial of the phenomenon. N. B. The visual angle is less in cause the horizon.

We judge of the distance of bodies, as by other things, so also by the situation of their pictures in the eye, or (wch is the same thing) according as they appear higher or lower. Those wch seem higher are farther off.

Qu. why we see objects greater in ye dark? whether this can be solv'd by any but my Principles?

The reverse of ye Principle introduced scepticism.

N. B. On my Principles there is a reality: there are things: there is a rerum natura.

Mem. The surds, doubling the cube, &c.

We think that if just made to see we should judge of the distance & magnitude of things as we do now; but this is false. So also wt we think so positively of the situation of objects.

Hays's, Keill's243, &c. method of proving the infinitesimals of the 3d order absurd, & perfectly contradictions.

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Angles of contact, & verily all angles comprehended by a right line & a curve, cannot be measur'd, the arches intercepted not being similar.

The danger of expounding the H. Trinity by extension.

Qu. Why should the magnitude seen at a near distance be deem'd the true one rather than that seen at a farther distance? Why should the sun be thought many 1000 miles rather than one foot in diameter—both being equally apparent diameters? Certainly men judg'd of the sun not in himself, but wth relation to themselves.

4 Principles whereby to answer objections, viz.

What shall I say? Dare I pronounce the admired ἀκρίβεια mathematica, that darling of the age, a trifle?

Most certainly no finite extension divisible ad infinitum.

Difficulties about concentric circles.

Mem. To examine & accurately discuss the scholium of the 8th definition of Mr. Newton's245 Principia.

Ridiculous in the mathematicians to despise Sense.

Qu. Is it not impossible there should be abstract general ideas?

All ideas come from without. They are all particular. The mind, 'tis true, can consider one thing wthout another; but then, considered asunder, they make not 2 ideas. Both together can make but one, as for instance colour & visible extension246.

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The end of a mathematical line is nothing. Locke's argument that the end of his pen is black or white concludes nothing here.

Mem. Take care how you pretend to define extension, for fear of the geometers.

Qu. Why difficult to imagine a minimum? Ans. Because we are not used to take notice of 'em singly; they not being able singly to pleasure or hurt us, thereby to deserve our regard.

Mem. To prove against Keill yt the infinite divisibility of matter makes the half have an equal number of equal parts with the whole.

Mem. To examine how far the not comprehending infinites may be admitted as a plea.

Qu. Why may not the mathematicians reject all the extensions below the M. as well as the dd, &c., wch are allowed to be something, & consequently may be magnify'd by glasses into inches, feet, &c., as well as the quantities next below the M.?

Big, little, and number are the works of the mind. How therefore can ye extension you suppose in Matter be big or little? How can it consist of any number of points?

Mem. Strictly to remark L[ocke], b. 2. c. 8. s. 8.

Schoolmen compar'd with the mathematicians.

Extension is blended wth tangible or visible ideas, & by the mind præscinded therefrom.

Mathematiques made easy—the scale does almost all. The scale can tell us the subtangent in ye parabola is double the abscisse.

Wt need of the utmost accuracy wn the mathematicians own in rerum natura they cannot find anything corresponding wth their nice ideas.

One should endeavour to find a progression by trying wth the scale.

Newton's fluxions needless. Anything below an M might serve for Leibnitz's Differential Calculus.

How can they hang together so well, since there are in them (I mean the mathematiques) so many contradictoriæ argutiæ. V. Barrow, Lect.

A man may read a book of Conics with ease, knowing how to try if they are right. He may take 'em on the credit of the author.

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Where's the need of certainty in such trifles? The thing that makes it so much esteem'd in them is that we are thought not capable of getting it elsewhere. But we may in ethiques and metaphysiques.

The not leading men into mistakes no argument for the truth of the infinitesimals. They being nothings may perhaps do neither good nor harm, except wn they are taken for something, & then the contradiction begets a contradiction.

a + 500 nothings = a + 50 nothings—an innocent silly truth.

My doctrine excellently corresponds wth the creation. I suppose no matter, no stars, sun, &c. to have existed before247.

It seems all circles are not similar figures, there not being the same proportion betwixt all circumferences & their diameters.

When a small line upon paper represents a mile, the mathematicians do not calculate the 1/10000 of the paper line, they calculate the 1/10000 of the mile. 'Tis to this they have regard, 'tis of this they think; if they think or have any idea at all. The inch perhaps might represent to their imaginations the mile, but ye 1/10000 of the inch cannot be made to represent anything, it not being imaginable.

But the 1/10000 of a mile being somewhat, they think the 1/10000 inch is somewhat: wn they think of yt they imagine they think on this.

3 faults occur in the arguments of the mathematicians for divisibility ad infinitum—

To suppose a M. S. divisible is to say there are distinguishable ideas where there are no distinguishable ideas.

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The M. S. is not near so inconceivable as the signum in magnitudine individuum.

Mem. To examine the math, about their point—what it is—something or nothing; and how it differs from the M. S.

All might be demonstrated by a new method of indivisibles, easier perhaps and juster than that of Cavalierius249.

Unperceivable perception a contradiction.

Proprietates reales rerum omnium in Deo, tam corporum quum spirituum continentur. Clerici, Log. cap. 8.

Let my adversaries answer any one of mine, I'll yield. If I don't answer every one of theirs, I'll yield.

The loss of the excuse250 may hurt Transubstantiation, but not the Trinity.

We need not strain our imaginations to conceive such little things. Bigger may do as well for infinitesimals, since the integer must be an infinite.

Evident yt wch has an infinite number of parts must be infinite.

Qu. Whether extension be resoluble into points it does not consist of?

Nor can it be objected that we reason about numbers, wch are only words & not ideas251; for these infinitesimals are words of no use, if not supposed to stand for ideas.

Axiom. No reasoning about things whereof we have no idea. Therefore no reasoning about infinitesimals.

Much less infinitesimals of infinitesimals, &c.

Axiom. No word to be used without an idea.

Our eyes and senses inform us not of the existence of matter or ideas existing without the mind252. They are not to be blam'd for the mistake.

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I defy any man to assign a right line equal to a paraboloid, but wn look'd at thro' a microscope they may appear unequall.

Newton's harangue amounts to no more than that gravity is proportional to gravity.

One can't imagine an extended thing without colour. V. Barrow, L. G.

Men allow colours, sounds, &c.253 not to exist without the mind, tho' they have no demonstration they do not. Why may they not allow my Principle with a demonstration?

Qu. Whether I had not better allow colours to exist without the mind; taking the mind for the active thing wch I call “I,” “myself”—yt seems to be distinct from the understanding254?

The taking extension to be distinct from all other tangible & visible qualities, & to make an idea by itself, has made men take it to be without the mind.

I see no wit in any of them but Newton. The rest are meer triflers, mere Nihilarians.

The folly of the mathematicians in not judging of sensations by their senses. Reason was given us for nobler uses.

Keill's filling the world with a mite255. This follows from the divisibility of extension ad infinitum.

Extension, or length without breadth, seems to be nothing save the number of points that lie betwixt any 2 points256. It seems to consist in meer proportion—meer reference of the mind.

To what purpose is it to determine the forms of glasses geometrically?

Sir Isaac257 owns his book could have been demonstrated on the supposition of indivisibles.

Innumerable vessels of matter. V. Cheyne.

I'll not admire the mathematicians. 'Tis wt any one of [pg 089] common sense might attain to by repeated acts. I prove it by experience. I am but one of human sense, and I &c.

Mathematicians have some of them good parts—the more is the pity. Had they not been mathematicians they had been good for nothing. They were such fools they knew not how to employ their parts.

The mathematicians could not so much as tell wherein truth & certainty consisted, till Locke told 'em258. I see the best of 'em talk of light and colours as if wthout the mind.

By thing I either mean ideas or that wch has ideas259.

Nullum præclarum ingenium unquam fuit magnus mathematicus. Scaliger260.

A great genius cannot stoop to such trifles & minutenesses as they consider.

1. 261All significant words stand for ideas262.

2. All knowledge about our ideas.

3. All ideas come from without or from within.

4. If from without it must be by the senses, & they are call'd sensations263.

5. If from within they are the operations of the mind, & are called thoughts.

6. No sensation can be in a senseless thing.

7. No thought can be in a thoughtless thing.

8. All our ideas are either sensations or thoughts264, by 3, 4, 5.

9. None of our ideas can be in a thing wch is both thoughtless & senseless265, by 6, 7, 8.

10. The bare passive recognition or having of ideas is called perception.

11. Whatever has in it an idea, tho' it be never so passive, tho' it exert no manner of act about it, yet it must perceive. 10.

[pg 090]

12. All ideas either are simple ideas, or made up of simple ideas.

13. That thing wch is like unto another thing must agree wth it in one or more simple ideas.

14. Whatever is like a simple idea must either be another simple idea of the same sort, or contain a simple idea of the same sort. 13.

15. Nothing like an idea can be in an unperceiving thing. 11, 14. Another demonstration of the same thing.

16. Two things cannot be said to be alike or unlike till they have been compar'd.

17. Comparing is the viewing two ideas together, & marking wt they agree in and wt they disagree in.

18. The mind can compare nothing but its own ideas. 17.

19. Nothing like an idea can be in an unperceiving thing. 11, 16, 18.

N. B. Other arguments innumerable, both a priori & a posteriori, drawn from all the sciences, from the clearest, plainest, most obvious truths, whereby to demonstrate the Principle, i.e. that neither our ideas, nor anything like our ideas, can possibly be in an unperceiving thing266.

N. B. Not one argument of any kind wtsoever, certain or probable, a priori or a posteriori, from any art or science, from either sense or reason, against it.

Mathematicians have no right idea of angles. Hence angles of contact wrongly apply'd to prove extension divisible ad infinitum.

We have got the Algebra of pure intelligences.

We can prove Newton's propositions more accurately, more easily, & upon truer principles than himself267.

Barrow owns the downfall of geometry. However I'll endeavour to rescue it—so far as it is useful, or real, or imaginable, or intelligible. But for the nothings, I'll leave them to their admirers.

[pg 091]

I'll teach any one the whole course of mathematiques in 1/100 part the time that another will.

Much banter got from the prefaces of the mathematicians.

Newton says colour is in the subtil matter. Hence Malbranch proves nothing, or is mistaken, in asserting there is onely figure & motion.

I can square the circle, &c.; they cannot. Wch goes on the best principles?

The Billys268 use a finite visible line for an 1/m.

Marsilius Ficinus—his appearing the moment he died solv'd by my idea of time269.

The philosophers lose their abstract or unperceived Matter. The mathematicians lose their insensible sensations. The profane [lose] their extended Deity. Pray wt do the rest of mankind lose? As for bodies, &c., we have them still270.

N. B. The future nat. philosoph. & mathem. get vastly by the bargain271.

There are men who say there are insensible extensions. There are others who say the wall is not white, the fire is not hot, &c. We Irishmen cannot attain to these truths.

The mathematicians think there are insensible lines. About these they harangue: these cut in a point at all angles: these are divisible ad infinitum. We Irishmen can conceive no such lines.

The mathematicians talk of wt they call a point. This, they say, is not altogether nothing, nor is it downright something. Now we Irishmen are apt to think something272 & nothing are next neighbours.

Engagements to P.273 on account of ye Treatise that grew up under his eye; on account also of his approving my [pg 092] harangue. Glorious for P. to be the protector of usefull tho' newly discover'd truths.

How could I venture thoughts into the world before I knew they would be of use to the world? and how could I know that till I had try'd how they suited other men's ideas?

I publish not this so much for anything else as to know whether other men have the same ideas as we Irishmen. This is my end, & not to be inform'd as to my own particular.

My speculations have the same effect as visiting foreign countries: in the end I return where I was before, but my heart at ease, and enjoying life with new satisfaction.

Passing through all the sciences, though false for the most part, yet it gives us the better insight and greater knowledge of the truth.

He that would bring another over to his opinion, must seem to harmonize with him at first, and humour him in his own way of talking274.

From my childhood I had an unaccountable turn of thought that way.

It doth not argue a dwarf to have greater strength than a giant, because he can throw off the molehill which is upon him, while the other struggles beneath a mountain.

The whole directed to practise and morality—as appears 1st, from making manifest the nearness and omnipresence of God; 2dly, from cutting off the useless labour of sciences, and so forth.

Editor's Preface To The Essay Towards A New Theory Of Vision

Berkeley's Essay towards a New Theory of Vision was meant to prepare the way for the exposition and defence of the new theory of the material world, its natural order, and its relation to Spirit, that is contained in his book of Principles and in the relative Dialogues, which speedily followed. The Essay was the firstfruits of his early philosophical studies at Dublin. It was also the first attempt to show that our apparently immediate Vision of Space and of bodies extended in three-dimensioned space, is either tacit or conscious inference, occasioned by constant association of the phenomena of which alone we are visually percipient with assumed realities of our tactual and locomotive experience.

The first edition of the Essay appeared early in 1709, when its author was about twenty-four years of age. A second edition, with a few verbal changes and an Appendix, followed before the end of that year. Both were issued in Dublin, “printed by Aaron Rhames, at the back of [pg 096] Dick's Coffeehouse, for Jeremy Pepyat, bookseller in Skinner Row.” In March, 1732, a third edition, without the Appendix, was annexed to Alciphron, on account of its relation to the Fourth Dialogue in that book. This was the author's last revision.

In the present edition the text of this last edition is adopted, after collation with those preceding. The Appendix has been restored, and also the Dedication to Sir John Percival, which appeared only in the first edition.

A due appreciation of Berkeley's theory of seeing, and his conception of the visible world, involves a study, not merely of this tentative juvenile Essay, but also of its fuller development and application in his more matured works. This has been commonly forgotten by his critics.

Various circumstances contribute to perplex and even repel the reader of the Essay, making it less fit to be an easy avenue of approach to Berkeley's Principles.

Its occasion and design, and its connexion with his spiritual conception of the material world, are suggested in Sections 43 and 44 of the Principles. Those sections are a key to the Essay. They inform us that in the Essay the author intentionally uses language which seems to attribute a reality independent of all percipient spirit to the ideas or phenomena presented in Touch; it being beside his purpose, he says, to “examine and refute” that “vulgar error” in “a work on Vision.” This studied reticence of a verbally paradoxical conception of Matter, in reasonings about vision which are fully intelligible only under that conception, is one cause of a want of philosophical lucidity in the Essay.

Another circumstance adds to the embarrassment of those who approach the Principles and the three Dialogues through the Essay on Vision. The Essay offers no exception to the lax employment of equivocal words familiar in the early literature of English philosophy, [pg 097] but which is particularly inconvenient in the subtle discussions to which we are here introduced. At the present day we are perhaps accustomed to more precision and uniformity in the philosophical use of language; at any rate we connect other meanings than those here intended with some of the leading words. It is enough to refer to such terms as idea, notion, sensation, perception, touch, externality, distance, and their conjugates. It is difficult for the modern reader to revive and remember the meanings which Berkeley intends by idea and notion—so significant in his vocabulary; and touch with him connotes muscular and locomotive experience as well as the pure sense of contact. Interchange of the terms outward, outness, externality, without the mind, and without the eye is confusing, if we forget that Berkeley implies that percipient mind is virtually coextensive with our bodily organism, so that being “without” or “at a distance from” our bodies is being at a distance from the percipient mind. I have tried in the annotations to relieve some of these ambiguities, of which Berkeley himself warns us (cf. sect. 120).

The Essay moreover abounds in repetitions, and interpolations of antiquated optics and physiology, so that its logical structure and even its supreme generalisation are not easily apprehended. I will try to disentangle them.

The reader must remember that this Essay on Vision is professedly an introspective appeal to human consciousness. It is an analysis of what human beings are conscious of when they see, the results being here and there applied, partly by way of verification, to solve some famous optical or physiological puzzle. The aim is to present the facts, the whole facts, and nothing but the facts of our internal visual experience, as distinguished from supposed facts and empty abstractions, which an irregular exercise of imagination, or abuse of words, had put in their place. [pg 098] The investigation, moreover, is not concerned with Space in its metaphysical infinity, but with finite sections of Space and their relations, which concern the sciences, physical and mathematical, and with real or tangible Distance, Magnitude, and Place, in their relation to seeing.

From the second section onwards the Essay naturally falls into six Parts, devoted successively to the proof of the six following theses regarding the relation of Sight to finite spaces and to things extended:—

I. (Sect. 2-51.) Distance, or outness from the eye in the line of vision, is not seen: it is only suggested to the mind by visible phenomena and by sensations felt in the eye, all which are somehow its arbitrarily constituted and non-resembling Signs.

II. (Sect. 52-87.) Magnitude, or the amount of space that objects of sense occupy, is really invisible: we only see a greater or less quantity of colour, and colour depends upon percipient mind: our supposed visual perceptions of real magnitude are only our own interpretations of the tactual meaning of the colours we see, and of sensations felt in the eye, which are its Signs.

III. (Sect. 88-120.) Situation of objects of sense, or their real relation to one another in ambient space, is invisible: what we see is variety in the relations of colours to one another: our supposed vision of real tangible locality is only our interpretation of its visual non-resembling Signs.

IV. (Sect. 121-46.) There is no object that is presented in common to Sight and Touch: space or extension, which has the best claim to be their common object, is specifically as well as numerically different in Sight and in Touch.

V. (Sect. 147-48.) The explanation of the tactual significance of the visible and visual Signs, upon which human experience proceeds, is offered in the Theory that all visible phenomena are arbitrary signs in what is virtually [pg 099] the Language of Nature, addressed by God to the senses and intelligence of Man.

VI. (Sect. 149-60.) The true object studied in Geometry is the kind of Extension given in Touch, not that given in Sight: real Extension in all its phases is tangible, not visible: colour is the only immediate object of Sight, and colour being mind-dependent sensation, cannot be realised without percipient mind. These concluding sections are supplementary to the main argument.

The fact that distance or outness is invisible is sometimes regarded as Berkeley's contribution to the theory of seeing. It is rather the assumption on which the Essay proceeds (sect. 2). The Essay does not prove this invisibility, but seeks to shew how, notwithstanding, we learn to find outness through seeing. That the relation between the visual signs of outness, on the one hand, and the real distance which they signify, on the other, is in all cases arbitrary, and discovered through experience, is the burden of sect. 2-40. The previously recognised signs of “considerably remote” distances, are mentioned (sect. 3). But near distance was supposed to be inferred by a visual geometry—and to be “suggested,” not signified by arbitrary signs. The determination of the visual signs which suggest outness, near and remote, is Berkeley's professed discovery regarding vision.

An induction of the visual signs which “suggest” distance, is followed (sect. 43) by an assertion of the wholly sensuous reality of colour, which is acknowledged to be the only immediate object of sight. Hence visible extension, consisting in colour, must be dependent for its realisation upon sentient or percipient mind. It is then argued (sect. 44) that this mind-dependent visible outness has no resemblance to the tangible reality (sect. 45). This is the first passage in the Essay in which Touch and its data are formally brought into view. Tactual or [pg 100] locomotive experience, it is implied, is needed to infuse true reality into our conceptions of distance or outness. This cannot be got from seeing any more than from hearing, or tasting, or smelling. It is as impossible to see and touch the same object as it is to hear and touch the same object. Visible objects and ocular sensations can only be ideal signs of real things.

The sections in which Touch is thus introduced are among the most important in the Essay. They represent the outness given in hearing as wholly sensuous, ideal, or mind-dependent: they recognise as more truly real that got by contact and locomotion. But if this is all that man can see, it follows that his visible world, at any rate, becomes real only in and through percipient mind. The problem of an Essay on Vision is thus, to explain how the visible world of extended colour can inform us of tangible realities, which it does not in the least resemble, and with which it has no necessary connexion. That visible phenomena, or else certain organic sensations involved in seeing (sect. 3, 16, 21, 27), gradually suggest the real or tangible outness with which they are connected in the divinely constituted system of nature, is the explanation which now begins to dawn upon us.

Here an ambiguity in the Essay appears. It concludes that the visible world cannot be real without percipient realising mind, i.e. not otherwise than ideally: yet the argument seems to take for granted that we are percipient of a tangible world that is independent of percipient realising mind. The reader is apt to say that the tangible world must be as dependent on percipient mind for its reality as the visible world is concluded to be, and for the same reason. This difficulty was soon afterwards encountered in the book of Principles, where the worlds of sight and touch are put on the same level; and the possibility of unperceived reality in both cases is denied; on the ground that a material world cannot be realised in the total [pg 101] absence of Spirit—human and divine. The term “external” may still be applied to tactual and locomotive phenomena alone, if men choose; but this not because of the ideal character of what is seen, and the unideal reality of what is touched, but only because tactual perceptions are found to be more firm and steady than visual. Berkeley preferred in this way to insinuate his new conception of the material world by degrees, at the risk of exposing this juvenile and tentative Essay on Vision to a charge of incoherence.

The way in which visual ideas or phenomena “suggest” the outness or distance of things from the organ of sight having been thus explained, in what I call the First Part of the Essay, the Second and Third Parts (sect. 52-120) argue for the invisibility of real extension in two other relations, viz. magnitude and locality or situation. An induction of the visual signs of tangible size and situation is given in those sections. The result is applied to solve two problems then notable in optics, viz. (1) the reason for the greater visible size of the horizontal moon than of the moon in its meridian (sect. 67-87); and (2) the fact that objects are placed erect in vision only on condition that their images on the retina are inverted (sect. 88-120). Here the antithesis between the ideal world of coloured extension, and the real world of resistant extension is pressed with vigour. The “high” and “low” of the visible world is not the “high” and “low” of the tangible world (sect. 91-106). There is no resemblance and no necessary relation, between those two so-called extensions; not even when the number of visible objects happen to coincide with the number of tangible objects of which they are the visual signs, e.g. the visible and tangible fingers on the hand: for the born-blind, on first receiving sight, could not parcel out the visible phenomena in correspondence with the tangible.

[pg 102]

The next Part of the Essay (sect. 121-45) argues for a specific as well as a numerical difference between the original data of sight and the data of touch and locomotion. Sight and touch perceive nothing in common. Extension in its various relations differs in sight from extension in touch. Coloured extension, which alone is visible, is found to be different in kind from resistant extension, which alone is tangible. And if actually perceived or concrete extensions differ thus, the question is determined. For all extension with which man can be concerned must be concrete (sect. 23). Extension in the abstract is meaningless (sect. 124-25). What remains is to marshal the scattered evidence, and to guard the foregoing conclusions against objections. This is attempted in sections 128-46.

The enunciation of the summary generalisation, which forms the “New Theory of Vision” (sect. 147-8), may be taken as the Fifth and culminating Part of the Essay.

The closing sections (149-60), as I have said, are supplementary, and profess to determine the sort of extension—visible or tangible—with which Geometry is concerned. In concluding that it is tangible, he tries to picture the mental state of Idominians, or unbodied spirits, endowed with visual perceptions only, and asks what their conception of outness and solid extension must be. Here further refinements in the interpretation of visual perception, and its organic conditions, which have not escaped the attention of latter psychologists and biologists, are hinted at.

Whether the data of sight consist of non-resembling arbitrary Signs of the tactual distances, sizes, and situations of things, is a question which some might prefer to deal with experimentally—by trial of the experience of persons in circumstances fitted to supply an answer. [pg 103] Of this sort would be the experience of the born-blind, immediately after their sight has been restored; the conception of extension and its relations found in persons who continue from birth unable to see; the experience (if it could be got) of persons always destitute of all tactual and locomotive perceptions, but familiar with vision; and the facts of seeing observed in infants of the human species, and in the lower animals.

Berkeley did not try to verify his conclusions in this way. Here and there (sect. 41, 42, 79, 92-99, 103, 106, 110, 128, 132-37), he conjectures what the first visual experience of those rescued from born-blindness is likely to be; he also speculates, as we have seen, about the experience of unbodied spirits supposed to be able to see, but unable to touch or move (sect. 153-59); and in the Appendix he refers, in confirmation of his New Theory, to a reported case of one born blind who had obtained sight. But he forms his Theory independently of those delicate and difficult investigations. His testing facts were sought introspectively. Indeed those physiologists and mental philosophers who have since tried to determine what vision in its purity is, by cases either of communicated sight or of continued born-blindness, have illustrated the truth of Diderot's remark—“préparer et interroger un aveugle-né n'eût point été une occupation indigne des talens réunis de Newton, Des Cartes, Locke, et Leibniz275.”

Berkeley's New Theory has been quoted as a signal example of discovery in metaphysics. The subtle analysis which distinguishes seeing strictly so called, from judgments about extended things, suggested by what we see, [pg 104] appears to have been imperfectly known to the ancient philosophers. Aristotle, indeed, speaks of colour as the only proper object of sight; but, in passages of the De Anima276 where he names properties peculiar to particular senses, he enumerates others, such as motion, figure, and magnitude, which belong to all the senses in common. His distinction of Proper and Common Sensibles appears at first to contradict Berkeley's doctrine of the heterogeneity of the ideal visible and the real tangible worlds. Aristotle, however, seems to question the immediate perceptibility of Common Sensibles, and to regard them as realised through the activity of intelligence277.

Some writers in Optics, in mediaeval times, and in early modern philosophy, advanced beyond Aristotle, in explaining the relation of our matured notion of distance to what we originally perceive in seeing, and in the fifteenth century it was discovered by Maurolyco that the rays of light from the object converge to a focus in the eye; but I have not been able to trace even the germ of the New Theory in these speculations.

Excepting some hints by Descartes, Malebranche was among the first dimly to anticipate Berkeley, in resolving our supposed power of seeing outness into an interpretation [pg 105] of visual signs which we learn by experience to understand. The most important part of Malebranche's account of seeing is contained in the Recherche de la Vérité (Liv. I. ch. 9), in one of those chapters in which he discusses the frequent fallaciousness of the senses, and in particular of our visual perceptions of extension. He accounts for their inevitable uncertainty by assigning them not to sense but to misinterpretation of what is seen. He also enumerates various visual signs of distance.

That the Recherche of Malebranche, published more than thirty years before the Essay, was familiar to Berkeley before the publication of his New Theory, is proved by internal evidence, and by his juvenile Commonplace Book. I am not able to discover signs of a similar connexion between the New Theory and the chapter on the mystery of sensation in Glanvill's Scepsis Scientifica (ch. 5), published some years before the Recherche of Malebranche, where Glanvill refers to “a secret deduction,” through which—from motions, &c., of which we are immediately percipient—we “spell out” figures, distances, magnitudes, and colours, which have no resemblance to them.

An approach to the New Theory is found in a passage which first appeared in the second edition of Locke's Essay, published in 1694, to which Berkeley refers in his own Essay (sect. 132-35), and which, on account of its relative importance, I shall here transcribe at length:—

“We are further to consider concerning Perception that the ideas we receive by sensation are often, in grown people, altered by the judgment, without our taking notice of it. When we set before our eyes a round globe of any uniform colour, e.g. gold, alabaster, or jet, it is certain that the idea thereby imprinted in our mind is of a flat circle, variously shadowed, with several degrees of light and brightness coming to our eyes. But, we having by use been accustomed to perceive what kind of appearance convex bodies are wont to make in us, what alterations are made [pg 106] in the reflection of light by the difference in the sensible figures of bodies—the judgment presently, by an habitual custom, alters the appearances into their causes; so that, from that which is truly variety of shadow or colour, collecting the figure, it makes it pass for a mark of figure, and frames to itself the perception of a convex figure and an uniform colour, when the idea we receive from them is only a plane variously coloured, as is evident in painting.

“To which purpose I shall here insert a problem of that very ingenious and studious promoter of real knowledge, the learned and worthy Mr. Molyneux, which he was pleased to send me in a letter some months since, and it is this:—Suppose a man born blind, and now adult, and taught by his touch to distinguish between a cube and a sphere of the same metal, and nighly of the same bigness, so as to tell, when he felt the one and the other, which is the cube and which the sphere. Suppose then the cube and the sphere placed on a table, and the blind man be made to see: quere, whether, by his sight, before he touched them, he could not distinguish and tell, which is the globe and which the cube? To which the acute and judicious proposer answers: ‘Not.’ For, though he has obtained the experience of how a globe, how a cube affects his touch; yet he has not obtained the experience that what affects his touch so and so, must affect his sight so and so; so that a protuberant angle in the cube, that pressed his hand unequally, shall appear to his eye as it does in the cube.—I agree with this thinking gentleman, whom I am proud to call my friend, in his answer to this his problem, and am of opinion that the blind man, at first sight, would not be able to say with certainty which was the globe and which the cube, whilst he only saw them; though he would unerringly name them by his touch, and certainly distinguish them by the difference in their figures felt.

“This I have set down, and leave with my reader, as an [pg 107] occasion for him to consider how much he may be beholden to experience, improvement, and acquired notions, where he thinks he had not the least use of, or help from them: and the rather because this observing gentleman further adds that, having, upon the occasion of my book, proposed this problem to divers very ingenious men, he hardly ever met with one that at first gave the answer to it which he thinks true, till by hearing his reasons they were convinced.

“But this is not I think usual in any of our ideas but those received by sight: because sight, the most comprehensive of the senses, conveying to our minds the ideas of light and colours, which are peculiar only to that sense; and also the far different ideas of space, figure, and motion, the several varieties of which change the appearance of its proper object, i.e. light and colours; we bring ourselves by use to judge of the one by the other. This, in many cases, by a settled habit, in things whereof we have frequent experience, is performed so constantly and so quick, that we take that for the perception of our sensation, which is an idea formed by our judgment; so that one, i.e. that of sensation, serves only to excite the other, and is scarce taken notice of itself; as a man who reads or hears with attention and understanding takes little notice of the character or sounds, but of the ideas that are excited in him by them.

“Nor need we wonder that this is done with so little notice, if we consider how very quick the actions of the mind are performed; for, as itself is thought to take up no space, to have no extension, so its actions seem to require no time, but many of them seem to be crowded into an instant. I speak this in comparison of the actions of the body.... Secondly, we shall not be much surprised that this is done with us in so little notice, if we consider how the facility we get of doing things, by a custom of doing, makes them often pass in us without notice. Habits, [pg 108] especially such as are begun very early, come at last to produce actions in us which often escape our observation.... And therefore it is not so strange that our mind should often change the idea of its sensation into that of its judgment, and make the one serve only to excite the other, without our taking notice of it.” (Essay concerning Human Understanding, Book II. ch. 9. § 8.)

This remarkable passage anticipates by implication the view of an interpretation of materials originally given in the visual sense, which, under the name of “suggestion,” is the ruling factor in the New Theory of Vision.

The following sentences relative to the invisibility of distances, contained in the Treatise of Dioptrics (published in 1690) of Locke's friend and correspondent William Molyneux, whose son was Berkeley's pupil, illustrate Locke's statements, and may be compared with the opening sections of the Essay on Vision:—

“In plain vision the estimate we make of the distance of objects (especially when so far removed that the interval between our two eyes bears no sensible proportion thereto, or when looked upon with one eye only) is rather the act of our judgment than of sense; and acquired by exercise, and a faculty of comparing, rather than natural. For, distance of itself is not to be perceived; for, 'tis a line (or a length) presented to our eye with its end toward us, which must therefore be only a point, and that is invisible. Wherefore distance is chiefly perceived by means of interjacent bodies, as by the earth, mountains, hills, fields, trees, houses, &c. Or by the estimate we make of the comparative magnitude of bodies, or of their faint colours, &c. These I say are the chief means of apprehending the distance of objects that are considerably remote. But as to nigh objects—to whose distance the interval of the eyes bears a sensible proportion—their distance is perceived by the turn of the eyes, or by the angle of the optic axes (Gregorii Opt. Promot. prop. 28). This was the opinion of the ancients, [pg 109] Alhazen, Vitellio, &c. And though the ingenious Jesuit Tacquet (Opt. Lib. I. prop. 2) disapprove thereof, and objects against it a new notion of Gassendus (of a man's seeing only with one eye at a time one and the same object), yet this notion of Gassendus being absolutely false (as I could demonstrate were it not beside my present purpose), it makes nothing against this opinion.

“Wherefore, distance being only a line and not of itself perceivable, if an object were conveyed to the eye by one single ray only, there were no other means of judging of its distance but by some of those hinted before. Therefore when we estimate the distance of nigh objects, either we take the help of both eyes; or else we consider the pupil of one eye as having breadth, and receiving a parcel of rays from each radiating point. And, according to the various inclinations of the rays from one point on the various parts of the pupil, we make our estimate of the distance of the object. And therefore (as is said before), by one single eye we can only judge of the distance of such objects to whose distance the breadth of the pupil has a sensible proportion.... For, it is observed before (prop. 29, sec. 2, see also Gregorii Opt. Promot. prop. 29) that for viewing objects remote and nigh, there are requisite various conformations of the eye—the rays from nigh objects that fall on the eye diverging more than those from more remote objects.” (Treatise of Dioptrics, Part I. prop. 31.)

All this helps to shew the state of science regarding vision about the time Berkeley's Essay appeared, especially among those with whose works he was familiar278. I shall next refer to illustrations of the change which the Essay produced.

The New Theory has occasioned some interesting criticism [pg 110] since its appearance in 1709. At first it drew little attention. For twenty years after its publication the allusions to it were few. The account of Cheselden's experiment upon one born blind, published in 1728, in the Philosophical Transactions, which seemed to bring the Theory to the test of scientific experiment, recalled attention to Berkeley's reasonings. The state of religious thought about the same time confirmed the tendency to discuss a doctrine which represented human vision as interpretation of a natural yet divine language, thus suggesting Omnipresent Mind.

Occasional discussions of the New Theory may be found in the Gentleman's Magazine, from 1732 till Berkeley's death in 1753. Some criticisms may also be found in Smith's Optics, published in 1738.

Essential parts of Berkeley's analysis are explained by Voltaire, in his Élémens de la Philosophie de Newton. The following from that work is here given on its own account, and also as a prominent recognition of the new doctrine in France, within thirty years from its first promulgation:—

Condillac, in his Essais sur l'Origine des Connaissances Humaines (Part I. sect. 6), published in 1746, combats Berkeley's New Theory, and maintains that an extension exterior to the eye is immediately discernible by sight; the eye being naturally capable of judging at once of figures, magnitudes, situations, and distances. His reasonings in support of this “prejudice,” as he afterwards allowed it to be, may be found in the section entitled “De quelques jugemens qu'on a attribués à l'âme sans fondement, ou solution d'un problème de métaphysique.” Here Locke, Molyneux, Berkeley, and Voltaire are criticised, and Cheselden's experiment is referred to. Condillac's subsequent recantation is contained in his Traité des Sensations, published in 1754, and in his L'Art de Penser. In the Traité des Sensations (Troisième Partie, ch. 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, &c.) the whole question is discussed at length, and Condillac vindicates what he allows must appear a marvellous paradox to the uninitiated—that we only gradually learn to see, hear, smell, taste, and touch. He argues in particular that the eye cannot originally perceive an extension that is beyond itself, and that perception of trinal space is due to what we experience in touch.

Voltaire and Condillac gave currency to the New Theory in France, and it soon became a commonplace with D'Alembert, Diderot, Buffon, and other French philosophers. In Germany we have allusions to it in the Berlin Memoirs and elsewhere; but, although known by name, if not in its distinctive principle and latent idealism, it has not obtained [pg 112] the consideration which its author's developed theory of the material as well as the visible world has received. The Kantian a priori criticism of our cognition of Space, and of our mathematical notions, subsequently indisposed the German mind to the a posteriori reasoning of Berkeley's Essay.

Its influence is apparent in British philosophy. The following passages in Hartley's Observations on Man, published in 1749, illustrate the extent to which some of the distinctive parts of the new doctrine were at that time received by an eminent English psychologist:—

“Distance is judged of by the quantity of motion, and figure by the relative quantity of distance.... And, as the sense of sight is much more extensive and expedite than feeling, we judge of tangible qualities chiefly by sight, which therefore may be considered, agreeably to Bishop Berkeley's remark, as a philosophical language for the ideas of feeling; being, for the most part, an adequate representative of them, and a language common to all mankind, and in which they all agree very nearly, after a moderate degree of experience.

“However, if the informations from touch and sight disagree at any time, we are always to depend upon touch, as that which, according to the usual ways of speaking upon these subjects, is the true representation of the essential properties, i.e. as the earnest and presage of what other tangible impressions the body under consideration will make upon our feeling in other circumstances; also what changes it will produce in other bodies; of which again we are to determine by our feeling, if the visual language should not happen to correspond to it exactly. And it is from this difference that we call the touch the reality, light the representative—also that a person born blind may foretell with certainty, from his present tangible impressions, what others would follow upon varying the circumstances; whereas, if we could suppose a person to be born without [pg 113] feeling, and to arrive at man's estate, he could not, from his present visible impressions, judge what others would follow upon varying the circumstances. Thus the picture of a knife, drawn so well as to deceive his eye, would not, when applied to another body, produce the same change of visible impressions as a real knife does, when it separates the parts of the body through which it passes. But the touch is not liable to these deceptions. As it is therefore the fundamental source of information in respect of the essential properties of matter, it may be considered as our first and principal key to the knowledge of the external world.” (Prop. 30.)

In other parts of Hartley's book (e.g. Prop. 58) the relation of our visual judgments of magnitude, figure, motion, distance, and position to the laws of association is explained, and the associating circumstances by which these judgments are formed are enumerated in detail.

Dr. Porterfield of Edinburgh, in his Treatise on the Eye, or the Manner and Phenomena of Vision (Edinburgh, 1759), is an exception to the consent which the doctrine had then widely secured. He maintains, in opposition to Berkeley, that “the judgments we form of the situation and distance of visible objects, depend not on custom and experience, but on original instinct, to which mind is subject in our embodied state279.”

Berkeley's Theory of Vision, in so far as it resolves our visual perceptions of distance into interpretation of arbitrary signs, received the qualified approbation of Reid, in his Inquiry into the Human Mind on the Principles of Common Sense (1764). He criticises it in the Inquiry, where the doctrine of visual signs, of which Berkeley's whole philosophy is a development, is accepted, and to some extent applied. With Reid it is divorced, however, from the Berkeleian conception of the material world, [pg 114] although the Theory of Vision was the seminal principle of Berkeley's Theory of Matter280.

This Theory of Matter was imperfectly conceived and then rejected by Reid and his followers, while the New Theory of Vision obtained the general consent of the Scottish metaphysicians. Adam Smith refers to it in his Essays (published in 1795) as “one of the finest examples of philosophical analysis that is to be found either in our own or in any other language.” Dugald Stewart characterises it in his Elements as “one of the most beautiful, and at the same time one of the most important theories of modern philosophy.” “The solid additions,” he afterwards remarks in his Dissertation, “made by Berkeley to the stock of human knowledge, were important and brilliant. Among these the first place is unquestionably due to his New Theory of Vision, a work abounding with ideas so different from those commonly received, and at the same time so profound and refined, that it was regarded by all but a few accustomed to deep metaphysical reflection, rather in the light of a philosophical romance than of a sober inquiry after truth. Such, however, has since been the progress and diffusion of this sort of knowledge, that the leading and most abstracted doctrines contained in it form now an essential part of every elementary treatise on optics, and are adopted by the most superficial smatterers in science as fundamental articles of their faith.” The New Theory is accepted by Thomas Brown, who proposes (Lectures, 29) to extend the scope of its reasonings. With regard to perceptions of sight, Young, in his Lectures on Intellectual Philosophy (p. 102), says that “it has been universally admitted, at least since the days of Berkeley, that many of those which appear to us at present to be instantaneous and primitive, can yet be shewn to be [pg 115] acquired; that most of the adult perceptions of sight are founded on the previous information of touch; that colour can give us no conception originally of those qualities of bodies which produce it in us; and that primary vision gives us no notion of distance, and, as I believe, no notion of magnitude.” Sir James Mackintosh, in his Dissertation, characterises the New Theory of Vision as “a great discovery in Mental Philosophy.” “Nothing in the compass of inductive reasoning,” remarks Sir William Hamilton (Reid's Works, p. 182, note), “appears more satisfactory than Berkeley's demonstration of the necessity and manner of our learning, by a slow process of observation and comparison alone, the connexion between the perceptions of vision and touch, and, in general, all that relates to the distance and magnitude of external things281.”

The New Theory of Vision has in short been generally accepted, so far as it was understood, alike by the followers of Hartley and by the associates and successors of Reid. Among British psychologists, it has recommended itself to rationalists and sensationalists, to the advocates of innate principles, and to those who would explain by accidental association what their opponents attribute to reason originally latent in man. But this wide conscious assent is I think chiefly confined to the proposition that distance is invisible, and hardly reaches the deeper implicates of the theory, on its extension to all the senses, leading to a perception of the final unity [pg 116] of the natural and the supernatural, and the ultimate spirituality of the universe282.

Dedication

TO THE RT. HON. SIR JOHN PERCIVALE, BART.283,

ONE OF HER MAJESTY'S MOST HONOURABLE PRIVY COUNCIL

IN THE KINGDOM OF IRELAND.

Sir,

I could not, without doing violence to myself, forbear upon this occasion to give some public testimony of the great and well-grounded esteem I have conceived for you, ever since I had the honour and happiness of your acquaintance. The outward advantages of fortune, and the early honours with which you are adorned, together with the reputation you are known to have amongst the best and most considerable men, may well imprint veneration and esteem on the minds of those who behold you from a distance. But these are not the chief motives that inspire me with the respect I bear you. A nearer approach has given me the view of something in your person infinitely beyond the external ornaments of honour and estate. I mean, an intrinsic stock of virtue and good sense, a true concern for religion, and disinterested love of your country. Add to these an uncommon proficiency in the best and most useful parts of knowledge; together with (what in my mind is [pg 118] a perfection of the first rank) a surpassing goodness of nature. All which I have collected, not from the uncertain reports of fame, but from my own experience. Within these few months that I have the honour to be known unto you, the many delightful hours I have passed in your agreeable and improving conversation have afforded me the opportunity of discovering in you many excellent qualities, which at once fill me with admiration and esteem. That one at those years, and in those circumstances of wealth and greatness, should continue proof against the charms of luxury and those criminal pleasures so fashionable and predominant in the age we live in; that he should preserve a sweet and modest behaviour, free from that insolent and assuming air so familiar to those who are placed above the ordinary rank of men; that he should manage a great fortune with that prudence and inspection, and at the same time expend it with that generosity and nobleness of mind, as to shew himself equally remote from a sordid parsimony and a lavish inconsiderate profusion of the good things he is intrusted with—this, surely, were admirable and praiseworthy. But, that he should, moreover, by an impartial exercise of his reason, and constant perusal of the sacred Scriptures, endeavour to attain a right notion of the principles of natural and revealed religion; that he should with the concern of a true patriot have the interest of the public at heart, and omit no means of informing himself what may be prejudicial or advantageous to his country, in order to prevent the one and promote the other; in fine, that, by a constant application to the most severe and useful studies, by a strict observation of the rules of honour and virtue, by frequent and serious reflections on the mistaken measures of the world, and the true end and happiness of mankind, he should in all respects qualify himself bravely to run the race that is set before him, to deserve the character of great and good in this life, and be ever happy hereafter—this were amazing and almost incredible. Yet all this, and more than this, Sir, might I justly say of you, did either your modesty permit, or your character stand in need of it. I know it might deservedly be thought a vanity in me to imagine that anything coming from so obscure a hand as mine could add a lustre to your reputation. But, I am withal sensible how [pg 119] far I advance the interest of my own, by laying hold on this opportunity to make it known that I am admitted into some degree of intimacy with a person of your exquisite judgment. And, with that view, I have ventured to make you an address of this nature, which the goodness I have ever experienced in you inclines me to hope will meet with a favourable reception at your hands. Though I must own I have your pardon to ask, for touching on what may possibly be offensive to a virtue you are possessed of in a very distinguishing degree. Excuse me, Sir, if it was out of my power to mention the name of Sir John Percivale without paying some tribute to that extraordinary and surprising merit whereof I have so clear and affecting an idea, and which, I am sure, cannot be exposed in too full a light for the imitation of others,

Of late I have been agreeably employed in considering the most noble, pleasant, and comprehensive of all the senses284. The fruit of that (labour shall I call it or) diversion is what I now present you with, in hopes it may give some entertainment to one who, in the midst of business and vulgar enjoyments, preserves a relish for the more refined pleasures of thought and reflexion. My thoughts concerning Vision have led me into some notions so far out of the common road285 that it had been improper to address them to one of a narrow and contracted genius. But, you, Sir, being master of a large and free understanding, raised above the power of those prejudices that enslave the far greater part of mankind, may deservedly be thought a proper patron for an attempt of this kind. Add to this, that you are no less disposed to forgive than qualified to discern whatever faults may occur in it. Nor do I think [pg 120] you defective in any one point necessary to form an exact judgment on the most abstract and difficult things, so much as in a just confidence of your own abilities. And, in this one instance, give me leave to say, you shew a manifest weakness of judgment. With relation to the following Essay, I shall only add that I beg your pardon for laying a trifle of that nature in your way, at a time when you are engaged in the important affairs of the nation, and desire you to think that I am, with all sincerity and respect,

Sir,

Your most faithful and most humble servant,

GEORGE BERKELEY.

An Essay Towards A New Theory Of Vision

1. My design is to shew the manner wherein we perceive by Sight the Distance, Magnitude, and Situation of objects: also to consider the difference there is betwixt the ideas of Sight and Touch, and whether there be any idea common to both senses286.

2. It is, I think, agreed by all that Distance, of itself and immediately, cannot be seen287. For, distance288 being a line directed endwise to the eye, it projects only one point in the fund of the eye, which point remains invariably the same, whether the distance be longer or shorter289.

[pg 128]

3. I find it also acknowledged that the estimate we make of the distance of objects considerably remote is rather an act of judgment grounded on experience than of sense. For example, when I perceive a great number of intermediate objects, such as houses, fields, rivers, and the like, which I have experienced to take up a considerable space, I thence form a judgment or conclusion, that the object I see beyond them is at a great distance. Again, when an object appears faint and small which at a near distance I have experienced to make a vigorous and large appearance, I instantly conclude it to be far off290. And this, it is evident, is the result of experience; without which, from the faintness and littleness, I should not have inferred anything concerning the distance of objects.

4. But, when an object is placed at so near a distance as that the interval between the eyes bears any sensible proportion to it291, the opinion of speculative men is, that the two optic axes (the fancy that we see only with one eye at once being exploded), concurring at the object, do there make an angle, by means of which, according as it is greater or lesser, the object is perceived to be nearer or farther off292.

5. Betwixt which and the foregoing manner of estimating distance there is this remarkable difference:—that, whereas there was no apparent necessary connexion between small distance and a large and strong appearance, or between great distance and a little and faint appearance, there [pg 129] appears a very necessary connexion between an obtuse angle and near distance, and an acute angle and farther distance. It does not in the least depend upon experience, but may be evidently known by any one before he had experienced it, that the nearer the concurrence of the optic axes the greater the angle, and the remoter their concurrence is, the lesser will be the angle comprehended by them.

6. There is another way, mentioned by optic writers, whereby they will have us judge of those distances in respect of which the breadth of the pupil hath any sensible bigness. And that is the greater or lesser divergency of the rays which, issuing from the visible point, do fall on the pupil—that point being judged nearest which is seen by most diverging rays, and that remoter which is seen by less diverging rays, and so on; the apparent distance still increasing, as the divergency of the rays decreases, till at length it becomes infinite, when the rays that fall on the pupil are to sense parallel. And after this manner it is said we perceive distance when we look only with one eye.

7. In this case also it is plain we are not beholden to experience: it being a certain necessary truth that, the nearer the direct rays falling on the eye approach to a parallelism, the farther off is the point of their intersection, or the visible point from whence they flow.

8. 293Now, though the accounts here given of perceiving near distance by sight are received for true, and accordingly made use of in determining the apparent places of objects, they do nevertheless seem to me very unsatisfactory, and that for these following reasons:—

9. [First294,] It is evident that, when the mind perceives any idea not immediately and of itself, it must be by the means of some other idea. Thus, for instance, the passions which are in the mind of another are of themselves to me invisible. I may nevertheless perceive them [pg 130] by sight; though not immediately, yet by means of the colours they produce in the countenance. We often see shame or fear in the looks of a man, by perceiving the changes of his countenance to red or pale.

10. Moreover, it is evident that no idea which is not itself perceived can be to me the means of perceiving any other idea. If I do not perceive the redness or paleness of a man's face themselves, it is impossible I should perceive by them the passions which are in his mind.

11. Now, from sect. ii., it is plain that distance is in its own nature imperceptible, and yet it is perceived by sight295. It remains, therefore, that it be brought into view by means of some other idea, that is itself immediately perceived in the act of vision.

12. But those lines and angles, by means whereof some men296 pretend to explain the perception297 of distance, are themselves not at all perceived; nor are they in truth ever thought of by those unskilful in optics. I appeal to any one's experience, whether, upon sight of an object, he computes its distance by the bigness of the angle made by the meeting of the two optic axes? or whether he ever thinks of the greater or lesser divergency of the rays which arrive from any point to his pupil? nay, whether it be not perfectly impossible for him to perceive by sense the various angles wherewith the rays, according to their greater or lesser divergence, do fall on the eye? Every one is himself the best judge of what he perceives, and what not. In vain shall any man298 tell me, that I perceive certain lines and angles, which introduce into my mind the various ideas of distance, so long as I myself am conscious of no such thing.

13. Since therefore those angles and lines are not themselves [pg 131] perceived by sight, it follows, from sect. x., that the mind does not by them judge of the distance of objects.

14. [Secondly299,] The truth of this assertion will be yet farther evident to any one that considers those lines and angles have no real existence in nature, being only an hypothesis framed by the mathematicians, and by them introduced into optics, that they might treat of that science in a geometrical way.

15. The [third and300] last reason I shall give for rejecting that doctrine is, that though we should grant the real existence of those optic angles, &c., and that it was possible for the mind to perceive them, yet these principles would not be found sufficient to explain the phenomena of distance, as shall be shewn hereafter.

16. Now it being already shewn301 that distance is suggested302 to the mind, by the mediation of some other idea which is itself perceived in the act of seeing, it remains that we inquire, what ideas or sensations there be that attend vision, unto which we may suppose the ideas of distance are connected, and by which they are introduced into the mind.

And, first, it is certain by experience, that when we look at a near object with both eyes, according as it approaches or recedes from us, we alter the disposition of our eyes, by lessening or widening the interval between the pupils. This disposition or turn of the eyes is attended with a sensation303, which seems to me to be that which in this case brings the idea of greater or lesser distance into the mind.

[pg 132]

17. Not that there is any natural or necessary304 connexion between the sensation we perceive by the turn of the eyes and greater or lesser distance. But—because the mind has, by constant experience, found the different sensations corresponding to the different dispositions of the eyes to be attended each with a different degree of distance in the object—there has grown an habitual or customary connexion between those two sorts of ideas: so that the mind no sooner perceives the sensation arising from the different turn it gives the eyes, in order to bring the pupils nearer or farther asunder, but it withal perceives the different idea of distance which was wont to be connected with that sensation. Just as, upon hearing a certain sound, the idea is immediately suggested to the understanding which custom had united with it305.

18. Nor do I see how I can easily be mistaken in this matter. I know evidently that distance is not perceived of itself306; that, by consequence, it must be perceived by means of some other idea, which is immediately perceived, and varies with the different degrees of distance. I know also that the sensation arising from the turn of the eyes is of itself immediately perceived; and various degrees thereof are connected with different distances, which never fail to accompany them into my mind, when I view an object distinctly with both eyes whose distance is so small that in respect of it the interval between the eyes has any considerable magnitude.

19. I know it is a received opinion that, by altering the disposition of the eyes, the mind perceives whether the angle of the optic axes, or the lateral angles comprehended between the interval of the eyes or the optic axes, are made greater or lesser; and that, accordingly, by a kind of natural geometry, it judges the point of their intersection to be nearer or farther off. But that this is not true I am [pg 133] convinced by my own experience; since I am not conscious that I make any such use of the perception I have by the turn of my eyes. And for me to make those judgments, and draw those conclusions from it, without knowing that I do so, seems altogether incomprehensible307.

20. From all which it follows, that the judgment we make of the distance of an object viewed with both eyes is entirely the result of experience. If we had not constantly found certain sensations, arising from the various disposition of the eyes, attended with certain degrees of distance, we should never make those sudden judgments from them concerning the distance of objects; no more than we would pretend to judge of a man's thoughts by his pronouncing words we had never heard before.

21. Secondly, an object placed at a certain distance from the eye, to which the breadth of the pupil bears a considerable proportion, being made to approach, is seen more confusedly308. And the nearer it is brought the more confused appearance it makes. And this being found constantly to be so, there arises in the mind an habitual connexion between the several degrees of confusion and distance; the greater confusion still implying the lesser distance, and the lesser confusion the greater distance of the object.

22. This confused appearance of the object doth therefore seem to be the medium whereby the mind judges of distance, in those cases wherein the most approved writers of optics will have it judge by the different divergency with which the rays flowing from the radiating point fall on the pupil309. No man, I believe, will pretend to see or feel those imaginary angles that the rays are supposed to form, according to their various inclinations on his eye. But he cannot choose seeing whether the object appear more or less confused. It is therefore a manifest consequence from what has been demonstrated that, instead of the greater or lesser divergency of the rays, the mind makes use of the [pg 134] greater or lesser confusedness of the appearance, thereby to determine the apparent place of an object.

23. Nor doth it avail to say there is not any necessary connexion between confused vision and distance great or small. For I ask any man what necessary connexion he sees between the redness of a blush and shame? And yet no sooner shall he behold that colour to arise in the face of another but it brings into his mind the idea of that passion which hath been observed to accompany it.

24. What seems to have misled the writers of optics in this matter is, that they imagine men judge of distance as they do of a conclusion in mathematics; betwixt which and the premises it is indeed absolutely requisite there be an apparent necessary connexion. But it is far otherwise in the sudden judgments men make of distance. We are not to think that brutes and children, or even grown reasonable men, whenever they perceive an object to approach or depart from them, do it by virtue of geometry and demonstration.

25. That one idea may suggest another to the mind, it will suffice that they have been observed to go together, without any demonstration of the necessity of their coexistence, or without so much as knowing what it is that makes them so to coexist. Of this there are innumerable instances, of which no one can be ignorant310.

26. Thus, greater confusion having been constantly attended with nearer distance, no sooner is the former idea perceived but it suggests the latter to our thoughts. And, if it had been the ordinary course of nature that the farther off an object were placed the more confused it should appear, it is certain the very same perception that now makes us think an object approaches would then have made us to imagine it went farther off; that perception, abstracting from custom and experience, being equally fitted to produce the idea of great distance, or small distance, or no distance at all.

27. Thirdly, an object being placed at the distance above specified, and brought nearer to the eye, we may nevertheless prevent, at least for some time, the appearance's [pg 135] growing more confused, by straining the eye311. In which case that sensation supplies the place of confused vision, in aiding the mind to judge of the distance of the object; it being esteemed so much the nearer by how much the effort or straining of the eye in order to distinct vision is greater.

28. I have here312 set down those sensations or ideas313 that seem to be the constant and general occasions of introducing into the mind the different ideas of near distance. It is true, in most cases, that divers other circumstances contribute to frame our idea of distance, viz. the particular number, size, kind, &c. of the things seen. Concerning which, as well as all other the forementioned occasions which suggest distance, I shall only observe, they have none of them, in their own nature, any relation or connexion with it: nor is it possible they should ever signify the various degrees thereof, otherwise than as by experience they have been found to be connected with them.

29. I shall proceed upon these principles to account for a phenomenon which has hitherto strangely puzzled the writers of optics, and is so far from being accounted for by any of their theories of vision, that it is, by their own confession, plainly repugnant to them; and of consequence, if nothing else could be objected, were alone sufficient to bring their credit in question. The whole difficulty I shall lay before you in the words of the learned Doctor Barrow, with which he concludes his Optic Lectures314:—

In English as follows:

30. The ancient and received principle, which Dr. Barrow here mentions as the main foundation of Tacquet's316 Catoptrics, is, that every “visible point seen by reflection from a speculum shall appear placed at the intersection of the reflected ray and the perpendicular of incidence.” Which intersection in the present case happening to be behind the eye, it greatly shakes the authority of that principle whereon the aforementioned author proceeds throughout his whole Catoptrics, in determining the apparent place of objects seen by reflection from any kind of speculum.

31. Let us now see how this phenomenon agrees with our tenets317. The eye, the nearer it is placed to the point B in the above figures, the more distinct is the appearance of the object: but, as it recedes to O, the appearance grows more confused; and at P it sees the object yet more confused; and so on, till the eye, being brought back to Z, sees the object in the greatest confusion of all. Wherefore, by sect. 21, the object should seem to approach the eye gradually, as it recedes from the point B; that is, at O it should (in consequence of the principle I have laid down in the aforesaid section) seem nearer than it did at B, and at P nearer than at O, and at Q nearer than at P, and so on, till it quite vanishes at Z. Which is the very matter of fact, as any one that pleases may easily satisfy himself by experiment.

32. This case is much the same as if we should suppose an Englishman to meet a foreigner who used the same words with the English, but in a direct contrary [pg 141] signification. The Englishman would not fail to make a wrong judgment of the ideas annexed to those sounds, in the mind of him that used them. Just so in the present case, the object speaks (if I may so say) with words that the eye is well acquainted with, that is, confusions of appearance; but, whereas heretofore the greatest confusions were always wont to signify nearer distances, they have in this case a direct contrary signification, being connected with the greater distances. Whence it follows that the eye must unavoidably be mistaken, since it will take the confusions in the sense it has been used to, which is directly opposed to the true.

33. This phenomenon, as it entirely subverts the opinion of those who will have us judge of distance by lines and angles, on which supposition it is altogether inexplicable, so it seems to me no small confirmation of the truth of that principle whereby it is explained318. But, in order to a more full explication of this point, and to shew how far the hypothesis of the mind's judging by the various divergency of rays may be of use in determining the apparent place of an object, it will be necessary to premise some few things, which are already well known to those who have any skill in Dioptrics.

34. First, Any radiating point is then distinctly seen when the rays proceeding from it are, by the refractive power of the crystalline, accurately reunited in the retina or fund of the eye. But if they are reunited either before they arrive at the retina, or after they have passed it, then there is confused vision.

35. Secondly, Suppose, in the adjacent figures, NP represent an eye duly framed, and retaining its natural figure. In fig. 1 the rays falling nearly parallel on the eye, are, by the crystalline AB, refracted, so as their focus, or point of union F, falls exactly on the retina. But, if the rays fall sensibly diverging on the eye, as in fig. 2, then their focus falls beyond the retina; or, if the rays are made to converge by the lens QS, before they come at the eye, as in fig. 3, their focus F will fall before the retina. In which two last cases it is [pg 142] evident, from the foregoing section, that the appearance of the point Z is confused. And, by how much the greater is the convergency or divergency of the rays falling on the pupil, by so much the farther will the point of their reunion be from the retina, either before or behind it, and consequently the point Z will appear by so much the more confused. And this, by the bye, may shew us the difference between confused and faint vision. Confused vision is, when the rays proceeding from each distinct point of the object are not accurately re-collected in one corresponding point on the retina, but take up some space thereon—so that rays from different points become mixed and confused together. This is opposed to a distinct vision, and attends near objects. Faint vision is when, by reason of the distance of the object, or grossness of the interjacent medium, few rays arrive from the object to the eye. [pg 143] This is opposed to vigorous or clear vision, and attends remote objects. But to return.

36. The eye, or (to speak truly) the mind, perceiving only the confusion itself, without ever considering the cause from which it proceeds, doth constantly annex the same degree of distance to the same degree of confusion. Whether that confusion be occasioned by converging or by diverging rays it matters not. Whence it follows that the eye, viewing the object Z through the glass QS (which by refraction causeth the rays ZQ, ZS, &c. to converge), should judge it to be at such a nearness, at which, if it were placed, it would radiate on the eye, with rays diverging to that degree as would produce the same confusion which is now produced by converging rays, i.e. would cover a portion of the retina equal to DC. (Vid. fig. 3, sup.) But then this must be understood (to use Dr. Barrow's phrase) “seclusis prænotionibus et præjudiciis,” in case we abstract from all other circumstances of vision, such as the figure, size, faintness, &c. of the visible objects—all which do ordinarily concur to form our idea of distance, the mind having, by frequent experience, observed their several sorts or degrees to be connected with various distances.

37. It plainly follows from what has been said, that a person perfectly purblind (i.e. that could not see an object distinctly but when placed close to his eye) would not make the same wrong judgment that others do in the forementioned case. For, to him, greater confusions constantly suggesting greater distances, he must, as he recedes from the glass, and the object grows more confused, judge it to be at a farther distance; contrary to what they do who have had the perception of the objects growing more confused connected with the idea of approach.

38. Hence also it doth appear, there may be good use of computation, by lines and angles, in optics319; not that the mind judges of distance immediately by them, but because it judges by somewhat which is connected with them, and to the determination whereof they may be subservient. Thus, the mind judging of the distance [pg 144] of an object by the confusedness of its appearance, and this confusedness being greater or lesser to the naked eye, according as the object is seen by rays more or less diverging, it follows that a man may make use of the divergency of the rays, in computing the apparent distance, though not for its own sake, yet on account of the confusion with which it is connected. But so it is, the confusion itself is entirely neglected by mathematicians, as having no necessary relation with distance, such as the greater or lesser angles of divergency are conceived to have. And these (especially for that they fall under mathematical computation) are alone regarded, in determining the apparent places of objects, as though they were the sole and immediate cause of the judgments the mind makes of distance. Whereas, in truth, they should not at all be regarded in themselves, or any otherwise than as they are supposed to be the cause of confused vision.

39. The not considering of this has been a fundamental and perplexing oversight. For proof whereof, we need go no farther than the case before us. It having been observed that the most diverging rays brought into the mind the idea of nearest distance, and that still as the divergency decreased the distance increased, and it being thought the connexion between the various degrees of divergency and distance was immediate—this naturally leads one to conclude, from an ill-grounded analogy, that converging rays shall make an object appear at an immense distance, and that, as the convergency increases, the distance (if it were possible) should do so likewise. That this was the cause of Dr. Barrow's mistake is evident from his own words which we have quoted. Whereas had the learned Doctor observed that diverging and converging rays, how opposite soever they may seem, do nevertheless agree in producing the same effect, to wit, confusedness of vision, greater degrees whereof are produced indifferently, either as the divergency or convergency of the rays increaseth; and that it is by this effect, which is the same in both, that either the divergency or convergency is perceived by the eye—I say, had he but considered this, it is certain he would have made a quite contrary judgment, and rightly concluded [pg 145] that those rays which fall on the eye with greater degrees of convergency should make the object from whence they proceed appear by so much the nearer. But it is plain it was impossible for any man to attain to a right notion of this matter so long as he had regard only to lines and angles, and did not apprehend the true nature of vision, and how far it was of mathematical consideration.

40. Before we dismiss this subject, it is fit we take notice of a query relating thereto, proposed by the ingenious Mr. Molyneux, in his Treatise of Dioptrics (par. i. prop. 31. sect. 9), where, speaking of the difficulty we have been explaining, he has these words: “And so he (i.e. Dr. Barrow) leaves this difficulty to the solution of others, which I (after so great an example) shall do likewise; but with the resolution of the same admirable author, of not quitting the evident doctrine which we have before laid down, for determining the locus objecti, on account of being pressed by one difficulty, which seems inexplicable till a more intimate knowledge of the visive faculty be obtained by mortals. In the meantime I propose it to the consideration of the ingenious, whether the locus apparens of an object placed as in this ninth section be not as much before the eye as the distinct base is behind the eye?” To which query we may venture to answer in the negative. For, in the present case, the rule for determining the distance of the distinct base, or respective focus from the glass is this: As the difference between the distance of the object and focus is to the focus or focal length, so the distance of the object from the glass is to the distance of the respective focus or distinct base from the glass. (Molyneux, Dioptr., par. i. prop. 5.) Let us now suppose the object to be placed at the distance of the focal length, and one-half of the focal length from the glass, and the eye close to the glass. Hence it will follow, by the rule, that the distance of the distinct base behind the eye is double the true distance of the object before the eye. If, therefore, Mr. Molyneux's conjecture held good, it would follow that the eye should see the object twice as far off as it really is; and in other cases at three or four times its due distance, or more. But this manifestly contradicts experience, the object never appearing, at farthest, beyond its due distance. Whatever, therefore, is built on this supposition [pg 146] (vid. corol. i. prop. 57. ibid.) comes to the ground along with it.

41. From what hath been premised, it is a manifest consequence, that a man born blind, being made to see, would at first have no idea of distance by sight: the sun and stars, the remotest objects as well as the nearer, would all seem to be in his eye, or rather in his mind. The objects intromitted by sight would seem to him (as in truth they are) no other than a new set of thoughts or sensations, each whereof is as near to him as the perceptions of pain or pleasure, or the most inward passions of his soul. For, our judging objects perceived by sight to be at any distance, or without the mind, is (vid. sect, xxviii.) entirely the effect of experience; which one in those circumstances could not yet have attained to320.

42. It is indeed otherwise upon the common supposition—that men judge of distance by the angle of the optic axes, just as one in the dark, or a blind man by the angle comprehended by two sticks, one whereof he held in each hand321. For, if this were true, it would follow that one blind from his birth, being made to see, should stand in need of no new experience, in order to perceive distance by sight. But that this is false has, I think, been sufficiently demonstrated.

43. And perhaps, upon a strict inquiry, we shall not find that even those who from their birth have grown up in a continued habit of seeing are irrecoverably prejudiced on the other side, to wit, in thinking what they see to be at a distance from them. For, at this time it seems agreed on all hands, by those who have had any thoughts of that matter, that colours, which are the proper and immediate object of sight, are not without the mind.—But then, it will be said, by sight we have also the ideas of extension, and figure, and motion; all which may well be thought without and at some distance from the mind, though colour should [pg 147] not. In answer to this, I appeal to any man's experience, whether the visible extension of any object do not appear as near to him as the colour of that object; nay, whether they do not both seem to be in the very same place. Is not the extension we see coloured, and is it possible for us, so much as in thought, to separate and abstract colour from extension? Now, where the extension is, there surely is the figure, and there the motion too. I speak of those which are perceived by sight322.

44. But for a fuller explication of this point, and to shew that the immediate objects of sight are not so much as the ideas or resemblances of things placed at a distance, it is requisite that we look nearer into the matter, and carefully observe what is meant in common discourse when one says, that which he sees is at a distance from him. Suppose, for example, that looking at the moon I should say it were fifty or sixty semidiameters of the earth distant from me. Let us see what moon this is spoken of. It is plain it cannot be the visible moon, or anything like the visible moon, or that which I see—which is only a round luminous plain, of about thirty visible points in diameter. For, in case I am carried from the place where I stand directly towards the moon, it is manifest the object varies still as I go on; and, by the time that I am advanced fifty or sixty semidiameters of the earth, I shall be so far from being near a small, round, luminous flat that I shall perceive nothing like it—this object having long since disappeared, and, if I would recover it, it must be by going back to the earth from whence I set out323. Again, suppose I perceive by sight the faint and obscure idea of something, which I doubt whether it be a man, or a tree, or a tower, but [pg 148] judge it to be at the distance of about a mile. It is plain I cannot mean that what I see is a mile off, or that it is the image or likeness of anything which is a mile off; since that every step I take towards it the appearance alters, and from being obscure, small, and faint, grows clear, large, and vigorous. And when I come to the mile's end, that which I saw first is quite lost, neither do I find anything in the likeness of it324.

45. In these and the like instances, the truth of the matter, I find, stands thus:—Having of a long time experienced certain ideas perceivable by touch325—as distance, tangible figure, and solidity—to have been connected with certain ideas of sight, I do, upon perceiving these ideas of sight, forthwith conclude what tangible ideas are, by the wonted ordinary course of nature, like to follow. Looking at an object, I perceive a certain visible figure and colour, with some degree of faintness and other circumstances, which, from what I have formerly observed, determine me to think that if I advance forward so many paces, miles, &c., I shall be affected with such and such ideas of touch. So that, in truth and strictness of speech, I neither see distance itself, nor anything that I take to be at a distance. I say, neither distance nor things placed at a distance are themselves, or their ideas, truly perceived by sight. This I am persuaded of, as to what concerns myself. And I believe whoever will look narrowly into his own thoughts, and examine what he means by saying he sees this or that thing at a distance, will agree with me, that what he sees [pg 149] only suggests to his understanding that, after having passed a certain distance, to be measured by the motion of his body, which is perceivable by touch326, he shall come to perceive such and such tangible ideas, which have been usually connected with such and such visible ideas. But, that one might be deceived by these suggestions of sense, and that there is no necessary connexion between visible and tangible ideas suggested by them, we need go no farther than the next looking-glass or picture to be convinced. Note that, when I speak of tangible ideas, I take the word idea for any the immediate object of sense, or understanding—in which large signification it is commonly used by the moderns327.

46. From what we have shewn, it is a manifest consequence that the ideas of space, outness328, and things placed at a distance are not, strictly speaking, the object of sight329; they are not otherwise perceived by the eye than by the ear. Sitting in my study I hear a coach drive along the street; I look through the casement and see it; I walk out and enter into it. Thus, common speech would incline one to think I heard, saw, and touched the same thing, to wit, the coach. It is nevertheless certain the ideas intromitted by each sense are widely different, and distinct from each other; but, having been observed constantly to go together, they are spoken of as one and the same thing. By the variation of the noise, I perceive the different distances of the coach, and know that it approaches before I look out. Thus, by the ear I perceive distance just after the same manner as I do by the eye.

47. I do not nevertheless say I hear distance, in like [pg 150] manner as I say that I see it—the ideas perceived by hearing not being so apt to be confounded with the ideas of touch as those of sight are. So likewise a man is easily convinced that bodies and external things are not properly the object of hearing, but only sounds, by the mediation whereof the idea of this or that body, or distance, is suggested to his thoughts. But then one is with more difficulty brought to discern the difference there is betwixt the ideas of sight and touch330: though it be certain, a man no more sees and feels the same thing, than he hears and feels the same thing.

48. One reason of which seems to be this. It is thought a great absurdity to imagine that one and the same thing should have any more than one extension and one figure. But, the extension and figure of a body being let into the mind two ways, and that indifferently, either by sight or touch, it seems to follow that we see the same extension and the same figure which we feel.

49. But, if we take a close and accurate view of the matter, it must be acknowledged that we never see and feel one and the same object331. That which is seen is one thing, and that which is felt is another. If the visible figure and extension be not the same with the tangible figure and extension, we are not to infer that one and the same thing has divers extensions. The true consequence is that the objects of sight and touch are two distinct things332. It may perhaps require some thought rightly to conceive this distinction. And the difficulty seems not a little increased, because the combination of visible ideas hath constantly the same name as the combination of tangible ideas wherewith it is connected—which doth of necessity arise from the use and end of language333.

50. In order, therefore, to treat accurately and unconfusedly of vision, we must bear in mind that there are two sorts of objects apprehended by the eye—the one primarily and immediately, the other secondarily and by intervention of the former. Those of the first sort neither are nor appear to be without the mind, or at any distance off334. [pg 151] They may, indeed, grow greater or smaller, more confused, or more clear, or more faint. But they do not, cannot approach, [or even seem to approach 335] or recede from us. Whenever we say an object is at a distance, whenever we say it draws near, or goes farther off, we must always mean it of the latter sort, which properly belong to the touch336, and are not so truly perceived as suggested by the eye, in like manner as thoughts by the ear.

51. No sooner do we hear the words of a familiar language pronounced in our ears but the ideas corresponding thereto present themselves to our minds: in the very same instant the sound and the meaning enter the understanding: so closely are they united that it is not in our power to keep out the one except we exclude the other also. We even act in all respects as if we heard the very thoughts themselves. So likewise the secondary objects, or those which are only suggested by sight, do often more strongly affect us, and are more regarded, than the proper objects of that sense; along with which they enter into the mind, and with which they have a far more strict connexion than ideas have with words337. Hence it is we find it so difficult to discriminate between the immediate and mediate objects of sight, and are so prone to attribute to the former what belongs only to the latter. They are, as it were, most closely twisted, blended, and incorporated together. And the prejudice is confirmed and riveted in our thoughts by a long tract of time, by the use of language, and want of reflection. However, I doubt not but anyone that shall attentively consider what we have already said, and shall say upon this subject before we have done (especially if he pursue it in his own thoughts), may be able to deliver himself from that prejudice. Sure I am, it is worth some [pg 152] attention to whoever would understand the true nature of vision.

52. I have now done with Distance, and proceed to shew how it is that we perceive by sight the Magnitude of objects338. It is the opinion of some that we do it by angles, or by angles in conjunction with distance. But, neither angles nor distance being perceivable by sight339, and the things we see being in truth at no distance from us340, it follows that, as we have shewn lines and angles not to be the medium the mind makes use of in apprehending the apparent place, so neither are they the medium whereby it apprehends the apparent magnitude of objects.

53. It is well known that the same extension at a near distance shall subtend a greater angle, and at a farther distance a lesser angle. And by this principle (we are told) the mind estimates the magnitude of an object341, comparing the angle under which it is seen with its distance, and thence inferring the magnitude thereof. What inclines men to this mistake (beside the humour of making one see by geometry) is, that the same perceptions or ideas which suggest distance do also suggest magnitude. But, if we examine it, we shall find they suggest the latter as immediately as the former. I say, they do not first suggest distance and then leave it to the judgment to use that as a medium whereby to collect the magnitude; but they have as close and immediate a connexion with the magnitude as with the distance; and suggest magnitude as independently of distance, as they do distance independently of magnitude. All which will be evident to whoever considers what has been already said and what follows.

54. It has been shewn there are two sorts of objects apprehended by sight, each whereof has its distinct magnitude, or extension—the one, properly tangible, i.e. to be perceived and measured by touch, and not immediately falling under the sense of seeing; the other, properly and immediately visible, by mediation of which the former is brought in view. Each of these magnitudes are greater or [pg 153] lesser, according as they contain in them more or fewer points, they being made up of points or minimums. For, whatever may be said of extension in abstract342, it is certain sensible extension is not infinitely divisible343. There is a minimum tangibile, and a minimum visibile, beyond which sense cannot perceive. This every one's experience will inform him.

55. The magnitude of the object which exists without the mind, and is at a distance, continues always invariably the same: but, the visible object still changing as you approach to or recede from the tangible object, it hath no fixed and determinate greatness. Whenever therefore we speak of the magnitude of any thing, for instance a tree or a house, we must mean the tangible magnitude; otherwise there can be nothing steady and free from ambiguity spoken of it344. Now, though the tangible and visible magnitude do in truth belong to two distinct objects345, I shall nevertheless (especially since those objects are called by the same name, and are observed to coexist346), to avoid tediousness and singularity of speech, sometimes speak of them as belonging to one and the same thing.

56. Now, in order to discover by what means the magnitude of tangible objects is perceived by sight, I need only reflect on what passes in my own mind, and observe what those things be which introduce the ideas of greater or lesser into my thoughts when I look on any object. And these I find to be, first, the magnitude or extension of the visible object, which, being immediately perceived by sight, is connected with that other which is tangible and placed at a distance: secondly, the confusion or distinctness: and thirdly, the vigorousness or faintness of the aforesaid [pg 154] visible appearance. Cæteris paribus, by how much the greater or lesser the visible object is, by so much the greater or lesser do I conclude the tangible object to be. But, be the idea immediately perceived by sight never so large, yet, if it be withal confused, I judge the magnitude of the thing to be but small. If it be distinct and clear, I judge it greater. And, if it be faint, I apprehend it to be yet greater. What is here meant by confusion and faintness has been explained in sect. 35.

57. Moreover, the judgments we make of greatness do, in like manner as those of distance, depend on the disposition of the eye; also on the figure, number, and situation347 of intermediate objects, and other circumstances that have been observed to attend great or small tangible magnitudes. Thus, for instance, the very same quantity of visible extension which in the figure of a tower doth suggest the idea of great magnitude shall in the figure of a man suggest the idea of much smaller magnitude. That this is owing to the experience we have had of the usual bigness of a tower and a man, no one, I suppose, need be told.

58. It is also evident that confusion or faintness have no more a necessary connexion with little or great magnitude than they have with little or great distance. As they suggest the latter, so they suggest the former to our minds. And, by consequence, if it were not for experience, we should no more judge a faint or confused appearance to be connected with great or little magnitude than we should that it was connected with great or little distance.

59. Nor will it be found that great or small visible magnitude hath any necessary relation to great or small tangible magnitude—so that the one may certainly and infallibly be inferred from the other. But, before we come to the proof of this, it is fit we consider the difference there is betwixt the extension and figure which is the proper object of touch, and that other which is termed visible; and how the former is principally, though not immediately, taken notice of when we look at any object. This has been before mentioned348, but we shall here inquire into the cause thereof. We regard the objects that environ us in proportion as they are adapted to benefit or injure our own [pg 155] bodies, and thereby produce in our minds the sensations of pleasure or pain. Now, bodies operating on our organs by an immediate application, and the hurt and advantage arising therefrom depending altogether on the tangible, and not at all on the visible, qualities of any object—this is a plain reason why those should be regarded by us much more than these. And for this end [chiefly349] the visive sense seems to have been bestowed on animals, to wit, that, by the perception of visible ideas (which in themselves are not capable of affecting or anywise altering the frame of their bodies), they may be able to foresee350 (from the experience they have had what tangible ideas are connected with such and such visible ideas) the damage or benefit which is like to ensue upon the application of their own bodies to this or that body which is at a distance. Which foresight, how necessary it is to the preservation of an animal, every one's experience can inform him. Hence it is that, when we look at an object, the tangible figure and extension thereof are principally attended to; whilst there is small heed taken of the visible figure and magnitude, which, though more immediately perceived, do less sensibly affect us, and are not fitted to produce any alteration in our bodies.

60. That the matter of fact is true will be evident to any one who considers that a man placed at ten foot distance is thought as great as if he were placed at the distance only of five foot; which is true, not with relation to the visible, but tangible greatness of the object: the visible magnitude being far greater at one station than it is at the other.

61. Inches, feet, &c. are settled, stated lengths, whereby we measure objects and estimate their magnitude. We say, for example, an object appears to be six inches, or six foot long. Now, that this cannot be meant of visible inches, &c. is evident, because a visible inch is itself no constant determinate magnitude351, and cannot therefore serve to mark out and determine the magnitude of any [pg 156] other thing. Take an inch marked upon a ruler; view it successively, at the distance of half a foot, a foot, a foot and a half, &c. from the eye: at each of which, and at all the intermediate distances, the inch shall have a different visible extension, i.e. there shall be more or fewer points discerned in it. Now, I ask which of all these various extensions is that stated determinate one that is agreed on for a common measure of other magnitudes? No reason can be assigned why we should pitch on one more than another. And, except there be some invariable determinate extension fixed on to be marked by the word inch, it is plain it can be used to little purpose; and to say a thing contains this or that number of inches shall imply no more than that it is extended, without bringing any particular idea of that extension into the mind. Farther, an inch and a foot, from different distances, shall both exhibit the same visible magnitude, and yet at the same time you shall say that one seems several times greater than the other. From all which it is manifest, that the judgments we make of the magnitude of objects by sight are altogether in reference to their tangible extension. Whenever we say an object is great or small, of this or that determinate measure, I say, it must be meant of the tangible and not the visible extension352, which, though immediately perceived, is nevertheless little taken notice of.

62. Now, that there is no necessary connexion between these two distinct extensions is evident from hence—because our eyes might have been framed in such a manner as to be able to see nothing but what were less than the minimum tangibile. In which case it is not impossible we might have perceived all the immediate objects of sight the very same that we do now; but unto those visible appearances there would not be connected those different tangible magnitudes that are now. Which shews the judgments we make of the magnitude of things placed at a distance, from the various greatness of the immediate objects of sight, do not [pg 157] arise from any essential or necessary, but only a customary, tie which has been observed betwixt them.

63. Moreover, it is not only certain that any idea of sight might not have been connected with this or that idea of touch we now observe to accompany it, but also that the greater visible magnitudes might have been connected with and introduced into our minds lesser tangible magnitudes, and the lesser visible magnitudes greater tangible magnitudes. Nay, that it actually is so, we have daily experience—that object which makes a strong and large appearance not seeming near so great as another the visible magnitude whereof is much less, but more faint,353 and the appearance upper, or which is the same thing, painted lower on the retina, which faintness and situation suggest both greater magnitude and greater distance.

64. From which, and from sect. 57 and 58, it is manifest that, as we do not perceive the magnitude of objects immediately by sight, so neither do we perceive them by the mediation of anything which has a necessary connexion with them. Those ideas that now suggest unto us the various magnitudes of external objects before we touch them might possibly have suggested no such thing; or they might have signified them in a direct contrary manner, so that the very same ideas on the perception whereof we judge an object to be small might as well have served to make us conclude it great;—those ideas being in their own nature equally fitted to bring into our minds the idea of small or great, or no size at all, of outward objects354, just as the words of any language are in their own nature indifferent to signify this or that thing, or nothing at all.

65. As we see distance so we see magnitude. And we see both in the same way that we see shame or anger in the looks of a man. Those passions are themselves invisible; they are nevertheless let in by the eye along with colours and alterations of countenance which are the immediate object of vision, and which signify them for no other reason than barely because they have been observed to accompany them. Without which experience we should [pg 158] no more have taken blushing for a sign of shame than of gladness.

66. We are nevertheless exceedingly prone to imagine those things which are perceived only by the mediation of others to be themselves the immediate objects of sight, or at least to have in their own nature a fitness to be suggested by them before ever they had been experienced to coexist with them. From which prejudice every one perhaps will not find it easy to emancipate himself, by any the clearest convictions of reason. And there are some grounds to think that, if there was one only invariable and universal language in the world, and that men were born with the faculty of speaking it, it would be the opinion of some, that the ideas in other men's minds were properly perceived by the ear, or had at least a necessary and inseparable tie with the sounds that were affixed to them. All which seems to arise from want of a due application of our discerning faculty, thereby to discriminate between the ideas that are in our understandings, and consider them apart from each other; which would preserve us from confounding those that are different, and make us see what ideas do, and what do not, include or imply this or that other idea355.

67. There is a celebrated phenomenon356 the solution whereof I shall attempt to give, by the principles that have been laid down, in reference to the manner wherein we apprehend by sight the magnitude of objects.—The apparent magnitude of the moon, when placed in the horizon, is much greater than when it is in the meridian, though the angle under which the diameter of the moon is seen be not observed greater in the former case than in the latter; and [pg 159] the horizontal moon doth not constantly appear of the same bigness, but at some times seemeth far greater than at others.

68. Now, in order to explain the reason of the moon's appearing greater than ordinary in the horizon, it must be observed that the particles which compose our atmosphere do intercept the rays of light proceeding from any object to the eye; and, by how much the greater is the portion of atmosphere interjacent between the object and the eye, by so much the more are the rays intercepted, and, by consequence, the appearance of the object rendered more faint—every object appearing more vigorous or more faint in proportion as it sendeth more or fewer rays into the eye. Now, between the eye and the moon when situated in the horizon there lies a far greater quantity of atmosphere than there does when the moon is in the meridian. Whence it comes to pass, that the appearance of the horizontal moon is fainter, and therefore, by sect. 56, it should be thought bigger in that situation than in the meridian, or in any other elevation above the horizon.

69. Farther, the air being variously impregnated, sometimes more and sometimes less, with vapours and exhalations fitted to retund and intercept the rays of light, it follows that the appearance of the horizontal moon hath not always an equal faintness, and, by consequence, that luminary, though in the very same situation, is at one time judged greater than at another.

70. That we have here given the true account of the phenomena of the horizontal moon, will, I suppose, be farther evident to any one from the following considerations:—First, it is plain, that which in this case suggests the idea of greater magnitude, must be something which is itself perceived; for, that which is unperceived cannot suggest to our perception any other thing357. Secondly, it must be something that does not constantly remain the same, but is subject to some change or variation; since the appearance of the horizontal moon varies, being at one time greater than at another. [Thirdly, it must not lie in the circumjacent or intermediate objects, such as mountains, houses, fields, &c.; because that when all those objects are [pg 160] excluded from sight the appearance is as great as ever358.] And yet, thirdly359, it cannot be the visible figure or magnitude; since that remains the same, or is rather lesser, by how much the moon is nearer to the horizon. It remains therefore, that the true cause is that affection or alteration of the visible appearance, which proceeds from the greater paucity of rays arriving at the eye, and which I term faintness: since this answers all the forementioned conditions, and I am not conscious of any other perception that does.

71. Add to this that in misty weather it is a common observation, that the appearance of the horizontal moon is far larger than usual, which greatly conspires with and strengthens our opinion. Neither would it prove in the least irreconcilable with what we have said, if the horizontal moon should chance sometimes to seem enlarged beyond its usual extent, even in more serene weather. For, we must not only have regard to the mist which happens to be in the place where we stand; we ought also to take into our thoughts the whole sum of vapours and exhalations which lie betwixt the eye and the moon: all which co-operating to render the appearance of the moon more faint, and thereby increase its magnitude, it may chance to appear greater than it usually does even in the horizontal position, at a time when, though there be no extraordinary fog or haziness just in the place where we stand, yet the air between the eye and the moon, taken altogether, may be loaded with a greater quantity of interspersed vapours and exhalations than at other times360.

72. It may be objected that, in consequence of our principles, the interposition of a body in some degree opaque, which may intercept a great part of the rays of light, should render the appearance of the moon in the meridian as large as when it is viewed in the horizon. To which I answer, it is not faintness anyhow applied that suggests [pg 161] greater magnitude; there being no necessary, but only an experimental, connexion between those two things. It follows that the faintness which enlarges the appearance must be applied in such sort, and with such circumstances, as have been observed to attend the vision of great magnitudes. When from a distance we behold great objects, the particles of the intermediate air and vapours, which are themselves unperceivable, do interrupt the rays of light, and thereby render the appearance less strong and vivid. Now, faintness of appearance, caused in this sort, hath been experienced to co-exist with great magnitude. But when it is caused by the interposition of an opaque sensible body, this circumstance alters the case; so that a faint appearance this way caused does not suggest greater magnitude, because it hath not been experienced to co-exist with it.

73. Faintness, as well as all other ideas or perceptions which suggest magnitude or distance, does it in the same way that words suggest the notions to which they are annexed. Now, it is known a word pronounced with certain circumstances, or in a certain context with other words, hath not always the same import and signification that it hath when pronounced in some other circumstances, or different context of words. The very same visible appearance, as to faintness and all other respects, if placed on high, shall not suggest the same magnitude that it would if it were seen at an equal distance on a level with the eye. The reason whereof is, that we are rarely accustomed to view objects at a great height; our concerns lie among things situated rather before than above us; and accordingly our eyes are not placed on the top of our heads, but in such a position as is most convenient for us to see distant objects standing in our way. And, this situation of them being a circumstance which usually attends the vision of distant objects, we may from hence account for (what is commonly observed) an object's appearing of different magnitude, even with respect to its horizontal extension, on the top of a steeple, e.g. a hundred feet high, to one standing below, from what it would if placed at a hundred feet distance, on a level with his eye. For, it hath been shewn that the judgment we make on the magnitude of a thing depends not on the visible appearance only, but also on divers other circumstances, any [pg 162] one of which being omitted or varied may suffice to make some alteration in our judgment. Hence, the circumstance of viewing a distant object in such a situation as is usual and suits with the ordinary posture of the head and eyes, being omitted, and instead thereof a different situation of the object, which requires a different posture of the head, taking place—it is not to be wondered at if the magnitude be judged different. But it will be demanded, why a high object should constantly appear less than an equidistant low object of the same dimensions; for so it is observed to be. It may indeed be granted that the variation of some circumstances may vary the judgment made on the magnitude of high objects, which we are less used to look at; but it does not hence appear why they should be judged less rather than greater? I answer, that in case the magnitude of distant objects was suggested by the extent of their visible appearance alone, and thought proportional thereto, it is certain they would then be judged much less than now they seem to be. (Vid. sect. 79.) But, several circumstances concurring to form the judgment we make on the magnitude of distant objects, by means of which they appear far larger than others whose visible appearance hath an equal or even greater extension, it follows that upon the change or omission of any of those circumstances which are wont to attend the vision of distant objects, and so come to influence the judgments made on their magnitude, they shall proportionally appear less than otherwise they would. For, any of those things that caused an object to be thought greater than in proportion to its visible extension being either omitted, or applied without the usual circumstances, the judgment depends more entirely on the visible extension; and consequently the object must be judged less. Thus, in the present case the situation of the thing seen being different from what it usually is in those objects we have occasion to view, and whose magnitude we observe, it follows that the very same object being a hundred feet high, should seem less than if it was a hundred feet off, on (or nearly on) a level with the eye. What has been here set forth seems to me to have no small share in contributing to magnify the appearance of the horizontal moon, and deserves not to be passed over in the explication of it.

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74. If we attentively consider the phenomenon before us, we shall find the not discerning between the mediate and immediate objects of sight to be the chief cause of the difficulty that occurs in the explication of it. The magnitude of the visible moon, or that which is the proper and immediate object of vision361, is no greater when the moon is in the horizon than when it is in the meridian. How comes it, therefore, to seem greater in one situation than the other? What is it can put this cheat on the understanding? It has no other perception of the moon than what it gets by sight. And that which is seen is of the same extent—I say, the visible appearance hath the very same, or rather a less, magnitude, when the moon is viewed in the horizontal than when in the meridional position. And yet it is esteemed greater in the former than in the latter. Herein consists the difficulty; which doth vanish and admit of the most easy solution, if we consider that as the visible moon is not greater in the horizon than in the meridian, so neither is it thought to be so. It hath been already shewn that, in any act of vision, the visible object absolutely, or in itself, is little taken notice of—the mind still carrying its view from that to some tangible ideas, which have been observed to be connected with it, and by that means come to be suggested by it. So that when a thing is said to appear great or small, or whatever estimate be made of the magnitude of any thing, this is meant not of the visible but of the tangible object. This duly considered, it will be no hard matter to reconcile the seeming contradiction there is, that the moon should appear of a different bigness, the visible magnitude thereof remaining still the same. For, by sect. 56, the very same visible extension, with a different faintness, shall suggest a different tangible extension. When therefore the horizontal moon is said to appear greater than the meridional moon, this must be understood, not of a greater visible extension, but of a greater tangible extension, which, by reason of the more than ordinary faintness of the visible appearance, is suggested to the mind along with it.

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75. Many attempts have been made by learned men to account for this appearance362. Gassendus363, Des Cartes364, Hobbes365, and several others have employed their thoughts on that subject; but how fruitless and unsatisfactory their endeavours have been is sufficiently shewn in the Philosophical Transactions366 (Numb. 187, p. 314), where you may see their several opinions at large set forth and confuted, not without some surprise at the gross blunders that ingenious men have been forced into by endeavouring to reconcile this appearance with the ordinary principles of optics367. Since the writing of which there hath been published in the Transactions (Numb. 187, p. 323) another paper relating to the same affair, by the celebrated Dr. Wallis, wherein he attempts to account for that phenomenon; which, though it seems not to contain anything new, or different from what had been said before by others, I shall nevertheless consider in this place.

76. His opinion, in short, is this:—We judge not of the magnitude of an object by the optic angle alone, but by the optic angle in conjunction with the distance. Hence, though the angle remain the same, or even become less, yet, if withal the distance seem to have been increased, the object shall appear greater. Now, one way whereby we estimate the distance of anything is by the number and extent of the intermediate objects. When therefore the moon is seen in the horizon, the variety of [pg 165] fields, houses, &c. together with the large prospect of the wide extended land or sea that lies between the eye and the utmost limb of the horizon, suggest unto the mind the idea of greater distance, and consequently magnify the appearance. And this, according to Dr. Wallis, is the true account of the extraordinary largeness attributed by the mind to the horizontal moon, at a time when the angle subtended by its diameter is not one jot greater than it used to be.

77. With reference to this opinion, not to repeat what has been already said concerning distance368, I shall only observe, first, that if the prospect of interjacent objects be that which suggests the idea of farther distance, and this idea of farther distance be the cause that brings into the mind the idea of greater magnitude, it should hence follow that if one looked at the horizontal moon from behind a wall, it would appear no bigger than ordinary. For, in that case, the wall interposing cuts off all that prospect of sea and land, &c. which might otherwise increase the apparent distance, and thereby the apparent magnitude of the moon. Nor will it suffice to say, the memory doth even then suggest all that extent of land, &c. which lies within the horizon, which suggestion occasions a sudden judgment of sense, that the moon is farther off and larger than usual. For, ask any man who from such a station beholding the horizontal moon shall think her greater than usual, whether he hath at that time in his mind any idea of the intermediate objects, or long tract of land that lies between his eye and the extreme edge of the horizon? and whether it be that idea which is the cause of his making the aforementioned judgment? He will, without doubt, reply in the negative, and declare the horizontal moon shall appear greater than the meridional, though he never thinks of all or any of those things that lie between him and it. [And as for the absurdity of any idea's introducing into the mind another, whilst itself is not perceived, this has already fallen under our observation, and is too evident to need any farther enlargement on it369.] Secondly, it seems impossible, by this hypothesis, to account for the moon's [pg 166] appearing, in the very same situation, at one time greater than at another; which, nevertheless, has been shewn to be very agreeable to the principles we have laid down, and receives a most easy and natural explication from them. [370For the further clearing up of this point, it is to be observed, that what we immediately and properly see are only lights and colours in sundry situations and shades, and degrees of faintness and clearness, confusion and distinctness. All which visible objects are only in the mind; nor do they suggest aught external371, whether distance or magnitude, otherwise than by habitual connexion, as words do things. We are also to remark, that beside the straining of the eyes, and beside the vivid and faint, the distinct and confused appearances (which, bearing some proportion to lines and angles, have been substituted instead of them in the foregoing part of this Treatise), there are other means which suggest both distance and magnitude—particularly the situation of visible points or objects, as upper or lower; the former suggesting a farther distance and greater magnitude, the latter a nearer distance and lesser magnitude—all which is an effect only of custom and experience, there being really nothing intermediate in the line of distance between the uppermost and the lowermost, which are both equidistant, or rather at no distance from the eye; as there is also nothing in upper or lower which by necessary connexion should suggest greater or lesser magnitude. Now, as these customary experimental means of suggesting distance do likewise suggest magnitude, so they suggest the one as immediately as the other. I say, they do not (vide sect. 53) first suggest distance, and then leave the mind from thence to infer or compute magnitude, but suggest magnitude as immediately and directly as they suggest distance.]

78. This phenomenon of the horizontal moon is a clear instance of the insufficiency of lines and angles for explaining the way wherein the mind perceives and estimates the magnitude of outward objects. There is, nevertheless, a use of computation by them372—in order to determine the [pg 167] apparent magnitude of things, so far as they have a connexion with and are proportional to those other ideas or perceptions which are the true and immediate occasions that suggest to the mind the apparent magnitude of things. But this in general may, I think, be observed concerning mathematical computation in optics—that it can never373 be very precise and exact374, since the judgments we make of the magnitude of external things do often depend on several circumstances which are not proportional to or capable of being defined by lines and angles.

79. From what has been said, we may safely deduce this consequence, to wit, that a man born blind, and made to see, would, at first opening of his eyes, make a very different judgment of the magnitude of objects intromitted by them from what others do. He would not consider the ideas of sight with reference to, or as having any connexion with, the ideas of touch. His view of them being entirely terminated within themselves, he can no otherwise judge them great or small than as they contain a greater or lesser number of visible points. Now, it being certain that any visible point can cover or exclude from view only one other visible point, it follows that whatever object intercepts the view of another hath an equal number of visible points with it; and, consequently, they shall both be thought by him to have the same magnitude. Hence, it is evident one in those circumstances would judge his thumb, with which he might hide a tower, or hinder its being seen, equal to that tower; or his hand, the interposition whereof might conceal the firmament from his view, equal to the firmament: how great an inequality soever there may, in our apprehensions, seem to be betwixt those two things, because of the customary and close connexion that has grown up in our minds between the objects of sight and touch, whereby the very different and distinct ideas of those two senses are so blended and confounded together as to be mistaken for one and the same thing—out of which prejudice we cannot easily extricate ourselves.

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80. For the better explaining the nature of vision, and setting the manner wherein we perceive magnitudes in a due light, I shall proceed to make some observations concerning matters relating thereto, whereof the want of reflection, and duly separating between tangible and visible ideas, is apt to create in us mistaken and confused notions. And, first, I shall observe, that the minimum visibile is exactly equal in all beings whatsoever that are endowed with the visive faculty375. No exquisite formation of the eye, no peculiar sharpness of sight, can make it less in one creature than in another; for, it not being distinguishable into parts, nor in anywise consisting of them, it must necessarily be the same to all. For, suppose it otherwise, and that the minimum visibile of a mite, for instance, be less than the minimum visibile of a man; the latter therefore may, by detraction of some part, be made equal to the former. It doth therefore consist of parts, which is inconsistent with the notion of a minimum visibile or point.

81. It will, perhaps, be objected, that the minimum visibile of a man doth really and in itself contain parts whereby it surpasses that of a mite, though they are not perceivable by the man. To which I answer, the minimum visibile having (in like manner as all other the proper and immediate objects of sight) been shewn not to have any existence without the mind of him who sees it, it follows there cannot be any part of it that is not actually perceived and therefore visible. Now, for any object to contain several distinct [pg 169] visible parts, and at the same time to be a minimum visibile, is a manifest contradiction.

82. Of these visible points we see at all times an equal number. It is every whit as great when our view is contracted and bounded by near objects as when it is extended to larger and remoter ones. For, it being impossible that one minimum visibile should obscure or keep out of sight more than one other, it is a plain consequence that, when my view is on all sides bounded by the walls of my study, I see just as many visible points as I could in case that, by the removal of the study-walls and all other obstructions, I had a full prospect of the circumjacent fields, mountains, sea, and open firmament. For, so long as I am shut up within the walls, by their interposition every point of the external objects is covered from my view. But, each point that is seen being able to cover or exclude from sight one only other corresponding point, it follows that, whilst my sight is confined to those narrow walls, I see as many points, or minima visibilia, as I should were those walls away, by looking on all the external objects whose prospect is intercepted by them. Whenever, therefore, we are said to have a greater prospect at one time than another, this must be understood with relation, not to the proper and immediate, but the secondary and mediate objects of vision—which, as hath been shewn, do properly belong to the touch.

83. The visive faculty, considered with reference to its immediate objects, may be found to labour of two defects. First, in respect of the extent or number of visible points that are at once perceivable by it, which is narrow and limited to a certain degree. It can take in at one view but a certain determinate number of minima visibilia, beyond which it cannot extend its prospect. Secondly, our sight is defective in that its view is not only narrow, but also for the most part confused. Of those things that we take in at one prospect, we can see but a few at once clearly and unconfusedly; and the more we fix our sight on any one object, by so much the darker and more indistinct shall the rest appear.

84. Corresponding to these two defects of sight, we may imagine as many perfections, to wit, 1st. That of comprehending in one view a greater number of visible points; [pg 170] 2dly, of being able to view them all equally and at once, with the utmost clearness and distinction. That those perfections are not actually in some intelligences of a different order and capacity from ours, it is impossible for us to know376.

85. In neither of those two ways do microscopes contribute to the improvement of sight. For, when we look through a microscope, we neither see more visible points, nor are the collateral points more distinct, than when we look with the naked eye at objects placed at a due distance. A microscope brings us, as it were, into a new world. It presents us with a new scene of visible objects, quite different from what we behold with the naked eye. But herein consists the most remarkable difference, to wit, that whereas the objects perceived by the eye alone have a certain connexion with tangible objects, whereby we are taught to foresee what will ensue upon the approach or application of distant objects to the parts of our own body—which much conduceth to its preservation377—there is not the like connexion between things tangible and those visible objects that are perceived by help of a fine microscope.

86. Hence, it is evident that, were our eyes turned into the nature of microscopes, we should not be much benefitted by the change. We should be deprived of the forementioned advantage we at present receive by the visive faculty, and have left us only the empty amusement of seeing, without any other benefit arising from it. But, in that case, it will perhaps be said, our sight would be endued with a far greater sharpness and penetration than it now hath. But I would fain know wherein consists that sharpness which is esteemed so great an excellency of sight. It is certain, from what we have already shewn378, that the minimum visibile is never greater or lesser, but in all cases constantly the same. And in the case of microscopical eyes, I see only this difference, to wit, that upon the ceasing of a certain observable connexion betwixt the divers perceptions of sight and touch, which before enabled us to [pg 171] regulate our actions by the eye, it would now be rendered utterly unserviceable to that purpose.

87. Upon the whole, it seems that if we consider the use and end of sight, together with the present state and circumstances of our being, we shall not find any great cause to complain of any defect or imperfection in it, or easily conceive how it could be mended. With such admirable wisdom is that faculty contrived, both for the pleasure and convenience of life.

88. Having finished what I intended to say concerning the Distance and Magnitude of objects, I come now to treat of the manner wherein the mind perceives by sight their Situation379. Among the discoveries of the last age, it is reputed none of the least, that the manner of vision has been more clearly explained than ever it had been before. There is, at this day, no one ignorant that the pictures of external objects are painted on the retina or fund of the eye; that we can see nothing which is not so painted; and that, according as the picture is more distinct or confused, so also is the perception we have of the object380. But then, in this explication of vision, there occurs one mighty difficulty, viz. the objects are painted in an inverted order on the bottom of the eye: the upper part of any object being painted on the lower part of the eye, and the lower part of the object on the upper part of the eye; and so also as to right and left. Since therefore the pictures are thus inverted, it is demanded, how it comes to pass that we see the objects erect and in their natural posture?

89. In answer to this difficulty, we are told that the mind, perceiving an impulse of a ray of light on the upper part of the eye, considers this ray as coming in a direct line from the lower part of the object; and, in like manner, tracing the ray that strikes on the lower part of the eye, it is directed to the upper part of the object. Thus, in the adjacent figure, C, the lower point of the object ABC, is projected on c the upper part of the eye. So likewise, the highest point A is projected on a the lowest part of the eye; which makes the representation cba inverted. But the mind—considering [pg 172] the stroke that is made on c as coming in the straight line Cc from the lower end of the object; and the stroke or impulse on a, as coming in the line Aa from the upper end of the object—is directed to make a right judgment of the situation of the object ABC, notwithstanding the picture of it be inverted. Moreover, this is illustrated by conceiving a blind man, who, holding in his hands two sticks that cross each other, doth with them touch the extremities of an object, placed in a perpendicular situation381. It is certain this man will judge that to be the upper part of the object which he touches with the stick held in the undermost hand, and that to be the lower part of the object which he touches with the stick in his uppermost hand. This is the common explication of the erect appearance of objects, which is generally received and acquiesced in, being (as Mr. Molyneux tells us, Diopt. part ii. ch. vii. p. 289) “allowed by all men as satisfactory.”

90. But this account to me does not seem in any degree true. Did I perceive those impulses, decussations, and directions of the rays of light, in like manner as hath been set forth, then, indeed, it would not at first view be altogether void of probability. And there might be some pretence for the comparison of the blind man and his cross sticks. But the case is far otherwise. I know very well that I perceive no such thing. And, of consequence, I cannot thereby make an estimate of the situation of objects. Moreover, I appeal to any one's experience, whether he be conscious to himself that he thinks on the intersection made by the radius pencils, or pursues the impulses they give in right lines, whenever he perceives by sight the position of [pg 173] any object? To me it seems evident that crossing and tracing of the rays, &c. is never thought on by children, idiots, or, in truth, by any other, save only those who have applied themselves to the study of optics. And for the mind to judge of the situation of objects by those things without perceiving them, or to perceive them without knowing it382, take which you please, it is perfectly beyond my comprehension. Add to this, that the explaining the manner of vision by the example of cross sticks, and hunting for the object along the axes of the radius pencils, doth suppose the proper objects of sight to be perceived at a distance from us, contrary to what hath been demonstrated383. [We may therefore venture to pronounce this opinion, concerning the way wherein the mind perceives the erect appearance of objects, to be of a piece with those other tenets of writers in optics, which in the foregoing parts of this treatise we have had occasion to examine and refute384.]

91. It remains, therefore, that we look for some other explication of this difficulty. And I believe it not impossible to find one, provided we examine it to the bottom, and carefully distinguish between the ideas of sight and touch; which cannot be too oft inculcated in treating of vision385. But, more especially throughout the consideration of this affair, we ought to carry that distinction in our thoughts; for that from want of a right understanding thereof, the difficulty of explaining erect vision seems chiefly to arise.

92. In order to disentangle our minds from whatever prejudices we may entertain with relation to the subject in hand, nothing seems more apposite than the taking into our thoughts the case of one born blind, and afterwards, when grown up, made to see. And—though perhaps it may not be a task altogether easy and familiar to us, to divest ourselves entirely of the experiences received from sight, so as to be able to put our thoughts exactly in the posture of such a one's—we must, nevertheless, as far as possible, endeavour to frame true conceptions of what might reasonably be supposed to pass in his mind386.

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93. It is certain that a man actually blind, and who had continued so from his birth, would, by the sense of feeling, attain to have ideas of upper and lower. By the motion of his hand, he might discern the situation of any tangible object placed within his reach. That part on which he felt himself supported, or towards which he perceived his body to gravitate, he would term lower, and the contrary to this upper; and accordingly denominate whatsoever objects he touched.

94. But then, whatever judgments he makes concerning the situation of objects are confined to those only that are perceivable by touch. All those things that are intangible, and of a spiritual nature—his thoughts and desires, his passions, and in general all the modifications of his soul—to these he would never apply the terms upper and lower, except only in a metaphorical sense. He may perhaps, by way of allusion, speak of high or low thoughts: but those terms, in their proper signification, would never be applied to anything that was not conceived to exist without the mind. For, a man born blind, and remaining in the same state, could mean nothing else by the words higher and lower than a greater or lesser distance from the earth; which distance he would measure by the motion or application of his hand, or some other part of his body. It is, therefore, evident that all those things which, in respect of each other, would by him be thought higher or lower, must be such as were conceived to exist without his mind, in the ambient space387.

95. Whence it plainly follows, that such a one, if we suppose him made to see, would not at first sight think that anything he saw was high or low, erect or inverted. For, it hath been already demonstrated, in sect. 41, that he would not think the things he perceived by sight to be at any distance from him, or without his mind. The objects to which he had hitherto been used to apply the terms up and down, high and low, were such only as affected, or were some way perceived by his touch. But the proper [pg 175] objects of vision make a new set of ideas, perfectly distinct and different from the former, and which can in no sort make themselves perceived by touch. There is, therefore, nothing at all that could induce him to think those terms applicable to them. Nor would he ever think it, till such time as he had observed their connexion with tangible objects, and the same prejudice388 began to insinuate itself into his understanding, which, from their infancy, had grown up in the understandings of other men.

96. To set this matter in a clearer light, I shall make use of an example. Suppose the above-mentioned blind person, by his touch, perceives a man to stand erect. Let us inquire into the manner of this. By the application of his hand to the several parts of a human body, he had perceived different tangible ideas; which being collected into sundry complex ones389 have distinct names annexed to them. Thus, one combination of a certain tangible figure, bulk, and consistency of parts is called the head; another the hand; a third the foot, and so of the rest—all which complex ideas could, in his understanding, be made up only of ideas perceivable by touch. He had also, by his touch, obtained an idea of earth or ground, towards which he perceives the parts of his body to have a natural tendency. Now—by erect nothing more being meant than that perpendicular position of a man wherein his feet are nearest to the earth—if the blind person, by moving his hand over the parts of the man who stands before him, do perceive the tangible ideas that compose the head to be farthest from, and those that compose the feet to be nearest to, that other combination of tangible ideas which he calls earth, he will denominate that man erect. But, if we suppose him on a sudden to receive his sight, and that he behold a man standing before him, it is evident, in that case, he would neither judge the man he sees to be erect nor inverted; for he, never having known those terms applied to any other save tangible things, or which existed in the space without him, and what he sees neither being tangible, nor perceived as existing without, he could not [pg 176] know that, in propriety of language, they were applicable to it.

97. Afterwards, when, upon turning his head or eyes up and down to the right and left, he shall observe the visible objects to change, and shall also attain to know that they are called by the same names, and connected with the objects perceived by touch; then, indeed, he will come to speak of them and their situation in the same terms that he has been used to apply to tangible things: and those that he perceives by turning up his eyes he will call upper, and those that by turning down his eyes he will call lower.

98. And this seems to me the true reason why he should think those objects uppermost that are painted on the lower part of his eye. For, by turning the eye up they shall be distinctly seen; as likewise they that are painted on the highest part of the eye shall be distinctly seen by turning the eye down, and are for that reason esteemed lowest. For we have shewn that to the immediate objects of sight, considered in themselves, he would not attribute the terms high and low. It must therefore be on account of some circumstances which are observed to attend them. And these, it is plain, are the actions of turning the eye up and down, which suggest a very obvious reason why the mind should denominate the objects of sight accordingly high or low. And, without this motion of the eye—this turning it up and down in order to discern different objects—doubtless erect, inverse, and other the like terms relating to the position of tangible objects, would never have been transferred, or in any degree apprehended to belong to the ideas of sight, the mere act of seeing including nothing in it to that purpose; whereas the different situations of the eye naturally direct the mind to make a suitable judgment of the situation of objects intromitted by it390.

99. Farther, when he has by experience learned the connexion there is between the several ideas of sight and touch, he will be able, by the perception he has of the situation of visible things in respect of one another, to make a sudden and true estimate of the situation of outward, tangible things corresponding to them. And thus [pg 177] it is he shall perceive391 by sight the situation of external392 objects, which do not properly fall under that sense.

100. I know we are very prone to think that, if just made to see, we should judge of the situation of visible things as we do now. But, we are also as prone to think that, at first sight, we should in the same way apprehend the distance and magnitude of objects, as we do now; which hath been shewn to be a false and groundless persuasion. And, for the like reasons, the same censure may be passed on the positive assurance that most men, before they have thought sufficiently of the matter, might have of their being able to determine by the eye, at first view, whether objects were erect or inverse.

101. It will perhaps be objected to our opinion, that a man, for instance, being thought erect when his feet are next the earth, and inverted when his head is next the earth, it doth hence follow that, by the mere act of vision, without any experience or altering the situation of the eye, we should have determined whether he were erect or inverted. For both the earth itself, and the limbs of the man who stands thereon, being equally perceived by sight, one cannot choose seeing what part of the man is nearest the earth, and what part farthest from it, i.e. whether he be erect or inverted.

102. To which I answer, the ideas which constitute the tangible earth and man are entirely different from those which constitute the visible earth and man. Nor was it possible, by virtue of the visive faculty alone, without superadding any experience of touch, or altering the position of the eye, ever to have known, or so much as suspected, there had been any relation or connexion between them. Hence, a man at first view would not denominate anything he saw, earth, or head, or foot; and consequently, he could not tell, by the mere act of vision, whether the head or feet were nearest the earth. Nor, indeed, would we have thereby any thought of earth or man, erect or inverse, at all—which will be made yet [pg 178] more evident, if we nicely observe, and make a particular comparison between, the ideas of both senses.

103. That which I see is only variety of light and colours. That which I feel is hard or soft, hot or cold, rough or smooth. What similitude, what connexion, have those ideas with these? Or, how is it possible that any one should see reason to give one and the same name393 to combinations of ideas so very different, before he had experienced their co-existence? We do not find there is any necessary connexion betwixt this or that tangible quality, and any colour whatsoever. And we may sometimes perceive colours, where there is nothing to be felt. All which doth make it manifest that no man, at first receiving of his sight394, would know there was any agreement between this or that particular object of his sight and any object of touch he had been already acquainted with. The colours therefore of the head would to him no more suggest the idea of head395 than they would the idea of feet.

104. Farther, we have at large shewn (vid. sect. 63 and 64) there is no discoverable necessary connexion between any given visible magnitude and any one particular tangible magnitude; but that it is entirely the result of custom and experience, and depends on foreign and accidental circumstances, that we can, by the perception of visible extension, inform ourselves what may be the extension of any tangible object connected with it. Hence, it is certain, that neither the visible magnitude of head or foot would bring along with them into the mind, at first opening of the eyes, the respective tangible magnitudes of those parts.

105. By the foregoing section, it is plain the visible figure of any part of the body hath no necessary connexion with the tangible figure thereof, so as at first sight to suggest it to the mind. For, figure is the termination of magnitude. Whence it follows that no visible magnitude having in its own nature an aptness to suggest any one particular tangible magnitude, so neither can any visible figure be inseparably connected with its corresponding tangible figure, so as of itself, and in a way prior to experience, it might suggest it [pg 179] to the understanding. This will be farther evident, if we consider that what seems smooth and round to the touch may to sight, if viewed through a microscope, seem quite otherwise.

106. From all which, laid together and duly considered, we may clearly deduce this inference:—In the first act of vision, no idea entering by the eye would have a perceivable connexion with the ideas to which the names earth, man, head, foot, &c. were annexed in the understanding of a person blind from his birth; so as in any sort to introduce them into his mind, or make themselves be called by the same names, and reputed the same things with them, as afterwards they come to be.

107. There doth, nevertheless, remain one difficulty, which to some may seem to press hard on our opinion, and deserve not to be passed over. For, though it be granted that neither the colour, size, nor figure of the visible feet have any necessary connexion with the ideas that compose the tangible feet, so as to bring them at first sight into my mind, or make me in danger of confounding them, before I had been used to and for some time experienced their connexion; yet thus much seems undeniable, namely, that the number of the visible feet being the same with that of the tangible feet, I may from hence, without any experience of sight, reasonably conclude that they represent or are connected with the feet rather than the head. I say, it seems the idea of two visible feet will sooner suggest to the mind the idea of two tangible feet than of one head—so that the blind man, upon first reception of the visive faculty, might know which were the feet or two, and which the head or one.

108. In order to get clear of this seeming difficulty, we need only observe that diversity of visible objects does not necessarily infer diversity of tangible objects corresponding to them. A picture painted with great variety of colours affects the touch in one uniform manner; it is therefore evident that I do not, by any necessary consecution, independent of experience, judge of the number of things tangible from the number of things visible. I should not therefore at first opening my eyes conclude that because I see two I shall feel two. How, therefore, can I, before experience teaches me, know that the visible legs, because [pg 180] two, are connected with the tangible legs; or the visible head, because one, is connected with the tangible head? The truth is, the things I see are so very different and heterogeneous from the things I feel that the perception of the one would never have suggested the other to my thoughts, or enabled me to pass the least judgment thereon, until I had experienced their connexion396.

109. But, for a fuller illustration of this matter, it ought to be considered, that number (however some may reckon it amongst the primary qualities397) is nothing fixed and settled, really existing in things themselves. It is entirely the creature of the mind, considering either a simple idea by itself, or any combination of simple ideas to which it gives one name, and so makes it pass for a unit. According as the mind variously combines its ideas, the unit varies; and as the unit, so the number, which is only a collection of units, doth also vary. We call a window one, a chimney one; and yet a house, in which there are many windows and many chimneys, has an equal right to be called one; and many houses go to the making of one city. In these and the like instances, it is evident the unit constantly relates to the particular draughts the mind makes of its ideas, to which it affixes names, and wherein it [pg 181] includes more or less, as best suits its own ends and purposes. Whatever therefore the mind considers as one, that is an unit. Every combination of ideas is considered as one thing by the mind, and in token thereof is marked by one name. Now, this naming and combining together of ideas is perfectly arbitrary, and done by the mind in such sort as experience shews it to be most convenient—without which our ideas had never been collected into such sundry distinct combinations as they now are.

110. Hence, it follows that a man born blind, and afterwards, when grown up, made to see, would not, in the first act of vision, parcel out the ideas of sight into the same distinct collections that others do who have experienced which do regularly co-exist and are proper to be bundled up together under one name. He would not, for example, make into one complex idea, and thereby esteem and unite all those particular ideas which constitute the visible head or foot. For, there can be no reason assigned why he should do so, barely upon his seeing a man stand upright before him. There crowd into his mind the ideas which compose the visible man, in company with all the other ideas of sight perceived at the same time. But, all these ideas offered at once to his view he would not distribute into sundry distinct combinations, till such time as, by observing the motion of the parts of the man and other experiences, he comes to know which are to be separated and which to be collected together398.

111. From what hath been premised, it is plain the objects of sight and touch make, if I may so say, two sets of ideas, which are widely different from each other. To objects of either kind we indifferently attribute the terms high and low, right and left, and such like, denoting the position or situation of things; but then we must well observe that the position of any object is determined with respect only to objects of the same sense. We say any object of touch is high or low, according as it is more or less distant from the tangible earth: and in like manner we [pg 182] denominate any object of sight high or low, in proportion as it is more or less distant from the visible earth. But, to define the situation of visible things with relation to the distance they bear from any tangible thing, or vice versa, this were absurd and perfectly unintelligible. For all visible things are equally in the mind, and take up no part of the external space; and consequently are equidistant from any tangible thing which exists without the mind399.

112. Or rather, to speak truly, the proper objects of sight are at no distance, neither near nor far from any tangible thing. For, if we inquire narrowly into the matter, we shall find that those things only are compared together in respect of distance which exist after the same manner, or appertain unto the same sense. For, by the distance between any two points, nothing more is meant than the number of intermediate points. If the given points are visible, the distance between them is marked out by the number of the interjacent visible points; if they are tangible, the distance between them is a line consisting of tangible points; but, if they are one tangible and the other visible, the distance between them doth neither consist of points perceivable by sight nor by touch, i.e. it is utterly inconceivable400. This, perhaps, will not find an easy admission into all men's understanding. However, I should gladly be informed whether it be not true, by any one who will be at the pains to reflect a little, and apply it home to his thoughts.

113. The not observing what has been delivered in the two last sections, seems to have occasioned no small part of the difficulty that occurs in the business of direct appearances. The head, which is painted nearest the earth, seems to be farthest from it; and on the other hand, the feet, which are painted farthest from the earth, are thought nearest to it. Herein lies the difficulty, which vanishes if we express the thing more clearly and free from ambiguity, thus:—How comes it that, to the eye, the visible head, which is nearest the tangible earth, seems farthest from the [pg 183] earth; and the visible feet, which are farthest from the tangible earth, seem nearest the earth? The question being thus proposed, who sees not the difficulty is founded on a supposition that the eye or visive faculty, or rather the soul by means thereof, should judge of the situation of visible objects with reference to their distance from the tangible earth? Whereas, it is evident the tangible earth is not perceived by sight. And it hath been shewn, in the two last preceding sections, that the location of visible objects is determined only by the distance they bear from one another, and that it is nonsense to talk of distance, far or near, between a visible and tangible thing.

114. If we confine our thoughts to the proper objects of sight, the whole is plain and easy. The head is painted farthest from, and the feet nearest to, the visible earth; and so they appear to be. What is there strange or unaccountable in this? Let us suppose the pictures in the fund of the eye to be the immediate objects of sight401. The consequence is that things should appear in the same posture they are painted in; and is it not so? The head which is seen seems farthest from the earth which is seen; and the feet which are seen seem nearest to the earth which is seen. And just so they are painted.

115. But, say you, the picture of the man is inverted, and yet the appearance is erect. I ask, what mean you by the picture of the man, or, which is the same thing, the visible man's being inverted? You tell me it is inverted, because the heels are uppermost and the head undermost? Explain me this. You say that by the head's being undermost, you mean that it is nearest to the earth; and, by the heels being uppermost, that they are farthest from the earth. I ask again, what earth you mean? You cannot mean the earth that is painted on the eye or the visible earth—for the picture of the head is farthest from the picture of the earth, and the picture of the feet nearest to the picture of the earth; and accordingly the visible head is farthest from the visible earth, and the visible feet nearest to it. It remains, therefore, that you mean the tangible earth; and so determine the situation of visible things with respect to tangible things—contrary to what hath been demonstrated in sect. 111 and 112. The two [pg 184] distinct provinces of sight and touch should be considered apart, and as though their objects had no intercourse, no manner of relation to one another, in point of distance or position402.

116. Farther, what greatly contributes to make us mistake in this matter is that, when we think of the pictures in the fund of the eye, we imagine ourselves looking on the fund of another's eye, or another looking on the fund of our own eye, and beholding the pictures painted thereon. Suppose two eyes, A and B. A from some distance looking on the pictures in B sees them inverted, and for that reason concludes they are inverted in B. But this is wrong. There are projected in little on the bottom of A the images of the pictures of, suppose, man, earth, &c., which are painted on B. And, besides these, the eye B itself, and the objects which environ it, together with another earth, are projected in a larger size on A. Now, by the eye A these larger images are deemed the true objects, and the lesser only pictures in miniature. And it is with respect to those greater images that it determines the situation of the smaller images; so that, comparing the little man with the great earth, A judges him inverted, or that the feet are farthest from and the head nearest to the great earth. Whereas, if A compare the little man with the little earth, then he will appear erect, i.e. his head shall seem farthest from and his feet nearest to the little earth. But we must consider that B does not see two earths as A does. It sees only what is represented by the little pictures in A, and consequently shall judge the man erect. For, in truth, the man in B is not inverted, for there the feet are next the earth; but it is the representation of it in A which is inverted, for there the head of the representation of the picture of the man in B is next the earth, and the feet farthest from the earth—meaning the earth which is without the representation of the pictures in B. For, if you take the little linages of the pictures in B, and consider them by themselves, and with respect only to one another, they are all erect and in their natural posture.

[pg 185]

117. Farther, there lies a mistake in our imagining that the pictures of external403 objects are painted on the bottom of the eye. It has been shewn there is no resemblance between the ideas of sight and things tangible. It hath likewise been demonstrated404, that the proper objects of sight do not exist without the mind. Whence it clearly follows that the pictures painted on the bottom of the eye are not the pictures of external objects. Let any one consult his own thoughts, and then tell me, what affinity, what likeness, there is between that certain variety and disposition of colours which constitute the visible man, or picture of a man, and that other combination of far different ideas, sensible by touch, which compose the tangible man. But, if this be the case, how come they to be accounted pictures or images, since that supposes them to copy or represent some originals or other?

118. To which I answer—In the forementioned instance, the eye A takes the little images, included within the representation of the other eye B, to be pictures or copies, whereof the archetypes are not things existing without405, but the larger pictures406 projected on its own fund; and which by A are not thought pictures, but the originals or true things themselves. Though if we suppose a third eye C, from a due distance, to behold the fund of A, then indeed the things projected thereon shall, to C, seem pictures or images, in the same sense that those projected on B do to A.

119. Rightly to conceive the business in hand, we must carefully distinguish between the ideas of sight and touch, between the visible and tangible eye; for certainly on the tangible eye nothing either is or seems to be painted. Again, the visible eye, as well as all other visible objects, hath been shewn to exist only in the mind407; which, perceiving its own ideas, and comparing them together, does call some pictures in respect to others. What hath been said, being rightly comprehended and laid together, does, I think, afford a full and genuine explication of the erect appearance of objects—which phenomenon, I must [pg 186] confess, I do not see how it can be explained by any theories of vision hitherto made public.

120. In treating of these things, the use of language is apt to occasion some obscurity and confusion, and create in us wrong ideas. For, language being accommodated to the common notions and prejudices of men, it is scarce possible to deliver the naked and precise truth, without great circumlocution, impropriety, and (to an unwary reader) seeming contradictions. I do, therefore, once for all, desire whoever shall think it worth his while to understand what I have written concerning vision, that he would not stick in this or that phrase or manner of expression, but candidly collect my meaning from the whole sum and tenor of my discourse, and, laying aside the words408 as much as possible, consider the bare notions themselves, and then judge whether they are agreeable to truth and his own experience or no.

121. We have shewn the way wherein the mind, by mediation of visible ideas409, doth perceive or apprehend the distance, magnitude, and situation of tangible objects410. I come now to inquire more particularly concerning the difference between the ideas of sight and touch which are called by the same names, and see whether there be any idea common to both senses411. From what we have at large set forth and demonstrated in the foregoing parts of this treatise, it is plain there is no one self-same numerical extension, perceived both by sight and touch; but that the particular figures and extensions perceived by sight, however they may be called by the same names, and reputed the same things with those perceived by touch, are nevertheless different, and have an existence very distinct and [pg 187] separate from them. So that the question is not now concerning the same numerical ideas, but whether there be any one and the same sort or species of ideas equally perceivable to both senses? or, in other words, whether extension, figure, and motion perceived by sight, are not specifically distinct from extension, figure, and motion perceived by touch?

122. But, before I come more particularly to discuss this matter, I find it proper to take into my thoughts extension in abstract412. For of this there is much talk; and I am apt to think that when men speak of extension as being an idea common to two senses, it is with a secret supposition that we can single out extension from all other tangible and visible qualities, and form thereof an abstract idea, which idea they will have common both to sight and touch. We are therefore to understand by extension in abstract, an idea413 of extension—for instance, a line or surface entirely stripped of all other sensible qualities and circumstances that might determine it to any particular existence; it is neither black, nor white, nor red, nor hath it any colour at all, or any tangible quality whatsoever, and consequently it is of no finite determinate magnitude414; for that which bounds or distinguishes one extension from another is some quality or circumstance wherein they disagree.

123. Now, I do not find that I can perceive, imagine, or anywise frame in my mind such an abstract idea as is here spoken of. A line or surface which is neither black, nor white, nor blue, nor yellow, &c.; nor long, nor short, nor rough, nor smooth, nor square, nor round, &c. is perfectly incomprehensible. This I am sure of as to myself; how far the faculties of other men may reach they best can tell.

124. It is commonly said that the object of geometry is [pg 188] abstract extension. But geometry contemplates figures: now, figure is the termination of magnitude415; but we have shewn that extension in abstract hath no finite determinate magnitude; whence it clearly follows that it can have no figure, and consequently is not the object of geometry. It is indeed a tenet, as well of the modern as the ancient philosophers, that all general truths are concerning universal abstract ideas; without which, we are told, there could be no science, no demonstration of any general proposition in geometry. But it were no hard matter, did I think it necessary to my present purpose, to shew that propositions and demonstrations in geometry might be universal, though they who make them never think of abstract general ideas of triangles or circles.

125. After reiterated efforts and pangs of thought416 to apprehend the general idea of a triangle417, I have found it altogether incomprehensible. And surely, if any one were able to let that idea into my mind, it must be the author418 of the Essay concerning Human Understanding: he, who has so far distinguished himself from the generality of writers, by the clearness and significancy of what he says. Let us therefore see how this celebrated author419 describes the general or [which is the same thing, the420] abstract idea of a triangle. “It must be,” says he, “neither oblique nor rectangle, neither equilateral, equicrural, nor scalenum; but all and none of these at once. In effect it is somewhat imperfect that cannot exist; an idea, wherein some parts of several different and inconsistent ideas are put together.” (Essay on Human Understanding, B. iv. ch. 7. s. 9.) This is the idea which he thinks needful for the enlargement of knowledge, which is the subject of mathematical demonstration, and without which we could never come to know any general proposition [pg 189] concerning triangles. [Sure I am, if this be the case, it is impossible for me to attain to know even the first elements of geometry: since I have not the faculty to frame in my mind such an idea as is here described421.] That author acknowledges it doth “require some pains and skill to form this general idea of a triangle.” (Ibid.) But, had he called to mind what he says in another place, to wit, “that ideas of mixed modes wherein any inconsistent ideas are put together, cannot so much as exist in the mind, i.e. be conceived,” (vid. B. iii. ch. 10. s. 33, ibid.)—I say, had this occurred to his thoughts, it is not improbable he would have owned it above all the pains and skill he was master of, to form the above-mentioned idea of a triangle, which is made up of manifest staring contradictions. That a man [of such a clear understanding422], who thought so much and so well, and laid so great a stress on clear and determinate ideas, should nevertheless talk at this rate, seems very surprising. But the wonder will lessen, if it be considered that the source whence this opinion [of abstract figures and extension 423] flows is the prolific womb which has brought forth innumerable errors and difficulties, in all parts of philosophy, and in all the sciences. But this matter, taken in its full extent, were a subject too vast and comprehensive to be insisted on in this place424. [I shall only observe that your metaphysicians and men of speculation seem to have faculties distinct from those of ordinary men, when they talk of general or abstracted triangles and circles, &c., and so peremptorily declare them to be the subject of all the eternal, immutable, universal truths in geometry425.] And so much for extension in abstract.

126. Some, perhaps, may think pure space, vacuum, or trine dimension, to be equally the object of sight and touch426. But, though we have a very great propension to think the ideas of outness and space to be the immediate object of sight, yet, if I mistake not, in the foregoing parts of this Essay, that hath been clearly demonstrated [pg 190] to be a mere delusion, arising from the quick and sudden suggestion of fancy, which so closely connects the idea of distance with those of sight, that we are apt to think it is itself a proper and immediate object of that sense, till reason corrects the mistake427.

127. It having been shewn that there are no abstract ideas of figure, and that it is impossible for us, by any precision of thought, to frame an idea of extension separate from all other visible and tangible qualities, which shall be common both to sight and touch—the question now remaining is428, whether the particular extensions, figures, and motions perceived by sight, be of the same kind with the particular extensions, figures, and motions perceived by touch? In answer to which I shall venture to lay down the following proposition:—The extension, figures, and motions perceived by sight are specifically distinct from the ideas of touch, called by the same names; nor is there any such thing as one idea, or kind of idea, common429 to both senses. This proposition may, without much difficulty, be collected from what hath been said in several places of this Essay. But, because it seems so remote from, and contrary to the received notions and settled opinion of mankind, I shall attempt to demonstrate it more particularly and at large by the following arguments:—

128. [First430,] When, upon perception of an idea, I range it under this or that sort, it is because it is perceived after the same manner, or because it has a likeness or conformity with, or affects me in the same way as the ideas of the sort I rank it under. In short, it must not be entirely new, but have something in it old and already perceived by me. It must, I say, have so much, at least, [pg 191] in common with the ideas I have before known and named, as to make me give it the same name with them. But, it has been, if I mistake not, clearly made out431 that a man born blind would not, at first reception of his sight, think the things he saw were of the same nature with the objects of touch, or had anything in common with them; but that they were a new set of ideas, perceived in a new manner, and entirely different from all he had ever perceived before. So that he would not call them by the same name, nor repute them to be of the same sort, with anything he had hitherto known. [And surely the judgment of such an unprejudiced person is more to be relied on in this case than the sentiments of the generality of men; who, in this as in almost everything else, suffer themselves to be guided by custom, and the erroneous suggestions of prejudice, rather than reason and sedate reflection432.]

129. Secondly, Light and colours are allowed by all to constitute a sort or species entirely different from the ideas of touch; nor will any man, I presume, say they can make themselves perceived by that sense. But there is no other immediate object of sight besides light and colours433. It is therefore a direct consequence, that there is no idea common to both senses.

130. It is a prevailing opinion, even amongst those who have thought and writ most accurately concerning our ideas, and the ways whereby they enter into the understanding, that something more is perceived by sight than barely light and colours with their variations. [The excellent434] Mr. Locke termeth sight “the most comprehensive of all our senses, conveying to our minds the ideas of light and colours, which are peculiar only to that sense; and also the far different ideas of space, figure, and motion.” (Essay on Human Understanding, B. iii. ch. 9. s. 9.) Space or distance435, we have shewn, is no otherwise the [pg 192] object of sight than of hearing. (Vid. sect. 46.) And, as for figure and extension, I leave it to any one that shall calmly attend to his own clear and distinct ideas to decide whether he has any idea intromitted immediately and properly by sight save only light and colours: or, whether it be possible for him to frame in his mind a distinct abstract idea of visible extension, or figure, exclusive of all colour; and, on the other hand, whether he can conceive colour without visible extension? For my own part, I must confess, I am not able to attain so great a nicety of abstraction. I know very well that, in a strict sense, I see nothing but light and colours, with their several shades and variations. He who beside these doth also perceive by sight ideas far different and distinct from them, hath that faculty in a degree more perfect and comprehensive than I can pretend to. It must be owned, indeed, that, by the mediation of light and colours, other far different ideas are suggested to my mind. But so they are by hearing436. But then, upon this score, I see no reason why the sight should be thought more comprehensive than the hearing, which, beside sounds which are peculiar to that sense, doth, by their mediation, suggest not only space, figure, and motion, but also all other ideas whatsoever that can be signified by words.

131. Thirdly, It is, I think, an axiom universally received, that “quantities of the same kind may be added together and make one entire sum.” Mathematicians add lines together; but they do not add a line to a solid, or conceive it as making one sum with a surface. These three kinds of quantity being thought incapable of any such mutual addition, and consequently of being compared together in the several ways of proportion, are by them for that reason esteemed entirely disparate and heterogeneous. Now let any one try in his thoughts to add a visible line or surface to a tangible line or surface, so as to conceive them making one continued sum or whole. He that can do this may think them homogeneous; but he that cannot must, by the foregoing axiom, think them heterogeneous. [I acknowledge myself to be of the latter sort437.] A blue and a red line I can conceive added together into one sum and [pg 193] making one continued line; but, to make, in my thoughts, one continued line of a visible and tangible line added together, is, I find, a task far more difficult, and even insurmountable—and I leave it to the reflection and experience of every particular person to determine for himself.

132. A farther confirmation of our tenet may be drawn from the solution of Mr. Molyneux's problem, published by Mr. Locke in his Essay438: which I shall set down as it there lies, together with Mr. Locke's opinion of it:—“Suppose a man born blind, and now adult, and taught by his touch to distinguish between a cube and a sphere of the same metal, and nighly of the same bigness, so as to tell when he felt one and the other, which is the cube, and which the sphere. Suppose then the cube and sphere placed on a table, and the blind man made to see: Quære, Whether by his sight, before he touched them, he could now distinguish, and tell, which is the globe, which the cube. To which the acute and judicious proposer answers: Not. For, though he has obtained the experience of how a globe, how a cube affects his touch; yet he has not yet attained the experience, that what affects his touch so or so must affect his sight so or so: or that a protuberant angle in the cube, that pressed his hand unequally, shall appear to his eye as it doth in the cube. I agree with this thinking gentleman, whom I am proud to call my friend, in his answer to this his problem; and am of opinion that the blind man, at first sight, would not be able with certainty to say, which was the globe, which the cube, whilst he only saw them.” (Essay on Human Understanding, B. ii. ch. 9. s. 8.)

133. Now, if a square surface perceived by touch be of the same sort with a square surface perceived by sight, it is certain the blind man here mentioned might know a square surface as soon as he saw it. It is no more but introducing into his mind, by a new inlet, an idea he has been already well acquainted with. Since therefore he is supposed to have known by his touch that a cube is a body [pg 194] terminated by square surfaces; and that a sphere is not terminated by square surfaces—upon the supposition that a visible and tangible square differ only in numero, it follows that he might know, by the unerring mark of the square surfaces, which was the cube, and which not, while he only saw them. We must therefore allow, either that visible extension and figures are specifically distinct from tangible extension and figures, or else, that the solution of this problem, given by those two [very439] thoughtful and ingenious men, is wrong.

134. Much more might be laid together in proof of the proposition I have advanced. But, what has been said is, if I mistake not, sufficient to convince any one that shall yield a reasonable attention. And, as for those that will not be at the pains of a little thought, no multiplication of words will ever suffice to make them understand the truth, or rightly conceive my meaning440.

135. I cannot let go the above-mentioned problem without some reflection on it. It hath been made evident that a man blind from his birth would not, at first sight, denominate anything he saw, by the names he had been used to appropriate to ideas of touch. (Vid. sect. 106.) Cube, sphere, table are words he has known applied to things perceivable by touch, but to things perfectly intangible he never knew them applied. Those words, in their wonted application, always marked out to his mind bodies or solid things which were perceived by the resistance they gave. But there is no solidity, no resistance or protrusion, perceived by sight. In short, the ideas of sight are all new perceptions, to which there be no names annexed in his mind; he cannot therefore understand what is said to him concerning them. And, to ask of the two bodies he saw placed on the table, which was the sphere, which the cube, were to him a question downright bantering and unintelligible; nothing he sees being able to suggest to his thoughts the idea of body, distance, or, in general, of anything he had already known.

136. It is a mistake to think the same441 thing affects both sight and touch. If the same angle or square which is the [pg 195] object of touch be also the object of vision, what should hinder the blind man, at first sight, from knowing it? For, though the manner wherein it affects the sight be different from that wherein it affected his touch, yet, there being, beside this manner or circumstance, which is new and unknown, the angle or figure, which is old and known, he cannot choose but discern it.

137. Visible figure and extension having been demonstrated to be of a nature entirely different and heterogeneous from tangible figure and extension, it remains that we inquire concerning motion. Now, that visible motion is not of the same sort with tangible motion seems to need no farther proof; it being an evident corollary from what we have shewn concerning the difference there is betwixt visible and tangible extension. But, for a more full and express proof hereof, we need only observe that one who had not yet experienced vision would not at first sight know motion442. Whence it clearly follows that motion perceivable by sight is of a sort distinct from motion perceivable by touch. The antecedent I prove thus—By touch he could not perceive any motion but what was up or down, to the right or left, nearer or farther from him; besides these, and their several varieties or complications, it is impossible he should have any idea of motion. He would not therefore think anything to be motion, or give the name motion to any idea, which he could not range under some or other of those particular kinds thereof. But, from sect. 95, it is plain that, by the mere act of vision, he could not know motion upwards or downwards, to the right or left, or in any other possible direction. From which I conclude, he would not know motion at all at first sight. As for the idea of motion in abstract, I shall not waste paper about it, but leave it to my reader to make the best he can of it. To me it is perfectly unintelligible443.

138. The consideration of motion may furnish a new field for inquiry444. But, since the manner wherein the [pg 196] mind apprehends by sight the motion of tangible objects, with the various degrees thereof, may be easily collected from what has been said concerning the manner wherein that sense doth suggest their various distances, magnitudes, and situations, I shall not enlarge any farther on this subject, but proceed to inquire what may be alleged, with greatest appearance of reason, against the proposition we have demonstrated to be true; for, where there is so much prejudice to be encountered, a bare and naked demonstration of the truth will scarce suffice. We must also satisfy the scruples that men may start in favour of their preconceived notions, shew whence the mistake arises, how it came to spread, and carefully disclose and root out those false persuasions that an early prejudice might have implanted in the mind.

139. First, therefore, it will be demanded how visible extension and figures come to be called by the same name with tangible extension and figures, if they are not of the same kind with them? It must be something more than humour or accident that could occasion a custom so constant and universal as this, which has obtained in all ages and nations of the world, and amongst all ranks of men, the learned as well as the illiterate.

140. To which I answer, we can no more argue a visible and tangible square to be of the same species, from their being called by the same name, than we can that a tangible square, and the monosyllable consisting of six letters whereby it is marked, are of the same species, because they are both called by the same name. It is customary to call written words, and the things they signify, by the same name: for, words not being regarded in their own nature, or otherwise than as they are marks of things, it had been superfluous, and beside the design of language, to have given them names distinct from those of the things marked by them. The same reason holds here also. Visible figures are the marks of tangible figures; and, from sect. 59, it is plain that in themselves they are little regarded, or upon any other score than for their connexion with tangible figures, which by nature they are ordained to signify. And, because this language of nature445 does [pg 197] not vary in different ages or nations, hence it is that in all times and places visible figures are called by the same names as the respective tangible figures suggested by them; and not because they are alike, or of the same sort with them.

141. But, say you, surely a tangible square is liker to a visible square than to a visible circle: it has four angles, and as many sides; so also has the visible square—but the visible circle has no such thing, being bounded by one uniform curve, without right lines or angles, which makes it unfit to represent the tangible square, but very fit to represent the tangible circle. Whence it clearly follows, that visible figures are patterns of, or of the same species with, the respective tangible figures represented by them; that they are like unto them, and of their own nature fitted to represent them, as being of the same sort; and that they are in no respect arbitrary signs, as words.

142. I answer, it must be acknowledged the visible square is fitter than the visible circle to represent the tangible square, but then it is not because it is liker, or more of a species with it; but, because the visible square contains in it several distinct parts, whereby to mark the several distinct corresponding parts of a tangible square, whereas the visible circle doth not. The square perceived by touch hath four distinct equal sides, so also hath it four distinct equal angles. It is therefore necessary that the visible figure which shall be most proper to mark it contain four distinct equal parts, corresponding to the four sides of the tangible square; as likewise four other distinct and equal parts, whereby to denote the four equal angles of the tangible square. And accordingly we see the visible figures contain in them distinct visible parts, answering to the distinct tangible parts of the figures signified or suggested by them.

143. But, it will not hence follow that any visible figure is like unto or of the same species with its corresponding tangible figure—unless it be also shewn that not only the number, but also the kind of the parts be the same in both. To illustrate this, I observe that visible figures represent tangible figures much after the same manner that written words do sounds. Now, in this respect, words are not arbitrary; it not being indifferent what written word stands [pg 198] for any sound. But, it is requisite that each word contain in it as many distinct characters as there are variations in the sound it stands for. Thus, the single letter a is proper to mark one simple uniform sound; and the word adultery is accommodated to represent the sound annexed to it—in the formation whereof there being eight different collisions or modifications of the air by the organs of speech, each of which produces a difference of sound, it was fit the word representing it should consist of as many distinct characters, thereby to mark each particular difference or part of the whole sound. And yet nobody, I presume, will say the single letter a, or the word adultery, are alike unto or of the same species with the respective sounds by them represented. It is indeed arbitrary that, in general, letters of any language represent sounds at all; but, when that is once agreed, it is not arbitrary what combination of letters shall represent this or that particular sound. I leave this with the reader to pursue, and apply it in his own thoughts.

144. It must be confessed that we are not so apt to confound other signs with the things signified, or to think them of the same species, as we are visible and tangible ideas. But, a little consideration will shew us how this may well be, without our supposing them of a like nature. These signs are constant and universal; their connexion with tangible ideas has been learnt at our first entrance into the world; and ever since, almost every moment of our lives, it has been occurring to our thoughts, and fastening and striking deeper on our minds. When we observe that signs are variable, and of human institution; when we remember there was a time they were not connected in our minds with those things they now so readily suggest, but that their signification was learned by the slow steps of experience: this preserves us from confounding them. But, when we find the same signs suggest the same things all over the world; when we know they are not of human institution, and cannot remember that we ever learned their signification, but think that at first sight they would have suggested to us the same things they do now: all this persuades us they are of the same species as the things respectively represented by them, and that it is by a natural resemblance they suggest them to our minds.

145. Add to this that whenever we make a nice survey [pg 199] of any object, successively directing the optic axis to each point thereof, there are certain lines and figures, described by the motion of the head or eye, which, being in truth perceived by feeling446, do nevertheless so mix themselves, as it were, with the ideas of sight that we can scarce think but they appertain to that sense. Again, the ideas of sight enter into the mind several at once, more distinct and unmingled than is usual in the other senses beside the touch. Sounds, for example, perceived at the same instant, are apt to coalesce, if I may so say, into one sound: but we can perceive, at the same time, great variety of visible objects, very separate and distinct from each other. Now, tangible447 extension being made up of several distinct coexistent parts, we may hence gather another reason that may dispose us to imagine a likeness or analogy between the immediate objects of sight and touch. But nothing, certainly, does more contribute to blend and confound them together, than the strict and close connexion448 they have with each other. We cannot open our eyes but the ideas of distance, bodies, and tangible figures are suggested by them. So swift, and sudden, and unperceived is the transit from visible to tangible ideas that we can scarce forbear thinking them equally the immediate object of vision.

146. The prejudice449 which is grounded on these, and whatever other causes may be assigned thereof, sticks so fast on our understandings, that it is impossible, without obstinate striving and labour of the mind, to get entirely clear of it. But then the reluctancy we find in rejecting any opinion can be no argument of its truth, to whoever considers what has been already shewn with regard to the prejudices we entertain concerning the distance, magnitude, and situation of objects; prejudices so familiar to our minds, so confirmed and inveterate, as they will hardly give way to the clearest demonstration.

147. Upon the whole, I think we may fairly conclude450 [pg 200] that the proper objects of Vision constitute the Universal Language of Nature; whereby we are instructed how to regulate our actions, in order to attain those things that are necessary to the preservation and well-being of our bodies, as also to avoid whatever may be hurtful and destructive of them. It is by their information that we are principally guided in all the transactions and concerns of life. And the manner wherein they signify and mark out unto us the objects which are at a distance is the same with that of languages and signs of human appointment; which do not suggest the things signified by any likeness or identity of nature, but only by an habitual connexion that experience has made us to observe between them451.

148. Suppose one who had always continued blind be told by his guide that after he has advanced so many steps he shall come to the brink of a precipice, or be stopped by a wall; must not this to him seem very admirable and surprising? He cannot conceive how it is possible for mortals to frame such predictions as these, which to him would seem as strange and unaccountable as prophecy does to others. Even they who are blessed with the visive faculty may (though familiarity make it less observed) find therein sufficient cause of admiration. The wonderful art and contrivance wherewith it is adjusted to those ends and purposes for which it was apparently [pg 201] designed; the vast extent, number, and variety of objects that are at once, with so much ease, and quickness, and pleasure, suggested by it—all these afford subject for much and pleasing speculation, and may, if anything, give us some glimmering analogous prænotion of things, that are placed beyond the certain discovery and comprehension of our present state452.

149. I do not design to trouble myself much with drawing corollaries from the doctrine I have hitherto laid down. If it bears the test, others may, so far as they shall think convenient, employ their thoughts in extending it farther, and applying it to whatever purposes it may be subservient to. Only, I cannot forbear making some inquiry concerning the object of geometry, which the subject we have been upon does naturally lead one to. We have shewn there is no such idea as that of extension in abstract453; and that there are two kinds of sensible extension and figures, which are entirely distinct and heterogeneous from each other454. Now, it is natural to inquire which of these is the object of geometry455.

150. Some things there are which, at first sight, incline one to think geometry conversant about visible extension. The constant use of the eyes, both in the practical and speculative parts of that science, doth very much induce us thereto. It would, without doubt, seem odd to a mathematician to go about to convince him the diagrams he saw upon paper were not the figures, or even the likeness of the figures, which make the subject of the demonstration—the contrary being held an unquestionable truth, not only by mathematicians, but also by those who apply themselves more particularly to the study of logic; I mean who consider the nature of science, certainty, and demonstration; it being by them assigned as one [pg 202] reason of the extraordinary clearness and evidence of geometry, that in that science the reasonings are free from those inconveniences which attend the use of arbitrary signs, the very ideas themselves being copied out, and exposed to view upon paper. But, by the bye, how well this agrees with what they likewise assert of abstract ideas being the object of geometrical demonstration I leave to be considered.

151. To come to a resolution in this point, we need only observe what has been said in sect. 59, 60, 61, where it is shewn that visible extensions in themselves are little regarded, and have no settled determinate greatness, and that men measure altogether by the application of tangible extension to tangible extension. All which makes it evident that visible extension and figures are not the object of geometry.

152. It is therefore plain that visible figures are of the same use in geometry that words are. And the one may as well be accounted the object of that science as the other; neither of them being any otherwise concerned therein than as they represent or suggest to the mind the particular tangible figures connected with them. There is, indeed, this difference betwixt the signification of tangible figures by visible figures, and of ideas by words—that whereas the latter is variable and uncertain, depending altogether on the arbitrary appointment of men, the former is fixed, and immutably the same in all times and places. A visible square, for instance, suggests to the mind the same tangible figure in Europe that it doth in America. Hence it is, that the voice of nature, which speaks to our eyes, is not liable to that misinterpretation and ambiguity that languages of human contrivance are unavoidably subject to456. From which may, in some measure, be derived that peculiar evidence and clearness of geometrical demonstrations.

153. Though what has been said may suffice to shew what ought to be determined with relation to the object of geometry, I shall, nevertheless, for the fuller illustration thereof, take into my thoughts the case of an intelligence or unbodied spirit, which is supposed to see perfectly [pg 203] well, i.e. to have a clear perception of the proper and immediate objects of sight, but to have no sense of touch457. Whether there be any such being in nature or no, is beside my purpose to inquire; it suffices, that the supposition contains no contradiction in it. Let us now examine what proficiency such a one may be able to make in geometry. Which speculation will lead us more clearly to see whether the ideas of sight can possibly be the object of that science.

154. First, then, it is certain the aforesaid intelligence could have no idea of a solid or quantity of three dimensions, which follows from its not having any idea of distance. We, indeed, are prone to think that we have by sight the ideas of space and solids; which arises from our imagining that we do, strictly speaking, see distance, and some parts of an object at a greater distance than others; which has been demonstrated to be the effect of the experience we have had what ideas of touch are connected with such and such ideas attending vision. But the intelligence here spoken of is supposed to have no experience of touch. He would not, therefore, judge as we do, nor have any idea of distance, outness, or profundity, nor consequently of space or body, either immediately or by suggestion. Whence it is plain he can have no notion of those parts of geometry which relate to the mensuration of solids, and their convex or concave surfaces, and contemplate the properties of lines generated by the section of a solid. The conceiving of any part whereof is beyond the reach of his faculties.

155. Farther, he cannot comprehend the manner wherein geometers describe a right line or circle; the rule and compass, with their use, being things of which it is impossible he should have any notion. Nor is it an easier matter for him to conceive the placing of one plane or angle on another, in order to prove their equality; since that supposes some idea of distance, or external space. [pg 204] All which makes it evident our pure intelligence could never attain to know so much as the first elements of plain geometry. And perhaps, upon a nice inquiry, it will be found he cannot even have an idea of plain figures any more than he can of solids; since some idea of distance is necessary to form the idea of a geometrical plane, as will appear to whoever shall reflect a little on it.

156. All that is properly perceived by the visive faculty amounts to no more than colours with their variations, and different proportions of light and shade—but the perpetual mutability and fleetingness of those immediate objects of sight render them incapable of being managed after the manner of geometrical figures; nor is it in any degree useful that they should. It is true there be divers of them perceived at once; and more of some, and less of others: but accurately to compute their magnitude, and assign precise determinate proportions between things so variable and inconstant, if we suppose it possible to be done, must yet be a very trifling and insignificant labour.

157. I must confess, it seems to be the opinion of some very ingenious men that flat or plane figures are immediate objects of sight, though they acknowledge solids are not. And this opinion of theirs is grounded on what is observed in painting, wherein (say they) the ideas immediately imprinted in the mind are only of planes variously coloured, which, by a sudden act of the judgment, are changed into solids: but, with a little attention, we shall find the planes here mentioned as the immediate objects of sight are not visible but tangible planes. For, when we say that pictures are planes, we mean thereby that they appear to the touch smooth and uniform. But then this smoothness and uniformity, or, in other words, this planeness of the picture is not perceived immediately by vision; for it appeareth to the eye various and multiform.

158. From all which we may conclude that planes are no more the immediate object of sight than solids. What we strictly see are not solids, nor yet planes variously coloured—they are only diversity of colours. And some of these suggest to the mind solids, and others plane figures; just as they have been experienced to be connected with the one or the other: so that we see planes in the same way that we see solids—both being equally suggested by the [pg 205] immediate objects of sight, which accordingly are themselves denominated planes and solids. But, though they are called by the same names with the things marked by them, they are, nevertheless, of a nature entirely different, as hath been demonstrated458.

159. What has been said is, if I mistake not, sufficient to decide the question we proposed to examine, concerning the ability of a pure spirit, such as we have described, to know geometry. It is, indeed, no easy matter for us to enter precisely into the thoughts of such an intelligence; because we cannot, without great pains, cleverly separate and disentangle in our thoughts the proper objects of sight from those of touch which are connected with them. This, indeed, in a complete degree seems scarce possible to be performed; which will not seem strange to us, if we consider how hard it is for any one to hear the words of his native language, which is familiar to him, pronounced in his ears without understanding them. Though he endeavour to disunite the meaning from the sound, it will nevertheless intrude into his thoughts, and he shall find it extreme difficult, if not impossible, to put himself exactly in the posture of a foreigner that never learnt the language, so as to be affected barely with the sounds themselves, and not perceive the signification annexed to them.

160. By this time, I suppose, it is clear that neither abstract nor visible extension makes the object of geometry; the not discerning of which may, perhaps, have created some difficulty and useless labour in mathematics. [459Sure I am that somewhat relating thereto has occurred to my thoughts; which, though after the most anxious and repeated examination I am forced to think it true, doth, nevertheless, seem so far out of the common road of geometry, that I know not whether it may not be thought presumption if [pg 206] I should make it public, in an age wherein that science hath received such mighty improvements by new methods; great part whereof, as well as of the ancient discoveries, may perhaps lose their reputation, and much of that ardour with which men study the abstruse and fine geometry be abated, if what to me, and those few to whom I have imparted it, seems evidently true, should really prove to be so.]