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Week 3 PHIL
We look at two famous examples of foundational principles: on one hand we have Descartes (Cogito Ergo Sum), and we have Locke (Tabula Rasa). Between these two thinkers, who do you believe is right? Do you believe that Decartes is correct and that, the first thing that I know is that I am. Or do you find yourself believing Locke, and the idea that everything is known through experiences.
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Meditations
Rene Descartes
MEDITATION I
OF THE THINGS OF WHICH WE MAY DOUBT
1. SEVERAL years have now elapsed since I first became aware that I had accepted, even from
my youth, many false opinions for true, and that consequently what I afterward based on such
principles was highly doubtful; and from that time I was convinced of the necessity of
undertaking once in my life to rid myself of all the opinions I had adopted, and of commencing
anew the work of building from the foundation, if I desired to establish a firm and abiding
superstructure in the sciences. But as this enterprise appeared to me to be one of great magnitude,
I waited until I had attained an age so mature as to leave me no hope that at any stage of life more
advanced I should be better able to execute my design. On this account, I have delayed so long
that I should henceforth consider I was doing wrong were I still to consume in deliberation any of
the time that now remains for action. To-day, then, since I have opportunely freed my mind from
all cares [and am happily disturbed by no passions], and since I am in the secure possession of
leisure in a peaceable retirement, I will at length apply myself earnestly and freely to the general
overthrow of all my former opinions.
2. But, to this end, it will not be necessary for me to show that the whole of these are false–a
point, perhaps, which I shall never reach; but as even now my reason convinces me that I ought
not the less carefully to withhold belief from what is not entirely certain and indubitable, than
from what is manifestly false, it will be sufficient to justify the rejection of the whole if I shall
find in each some ground for doubt. Nor for this purpose will it be necessary even to deal with
each belief individually, which would be truly an endless labor; but, as the removal from below
of the foundation necessarily involves the downfall of the whole edifice, I will at once approach
the criticism of the principles on which all my former beliefs rested.
3. All that I have, up to this moment, accepted as possessed of the highest truth and certainty, I
received either from or through the senses. I observed, however, that these sometimes misled us;
and it is the part of prudence not to place absolute confidence in that by which we have even
once been deceived.
4. But it may be said, perhaps, that, although the senses occasionally mislead us respecting
minute objects, and such as are so far removed from us as to be beyond the reach of close
observation, there are yet many other of their informations (presentations), of the truth of which
it is manifestly impossible to doubt; as for example, that I am in this place, seated by the fire,
clothed in a winter dressing gown, that I hold in my hands this piece of paper, with other
intimations of the same nature. But how could I deny that I possess these hands and this body,
and withal escape being classed with persons in a state of insanity, whose brains are so
disordered and clouded by dark bilious vapors as to cause them pertinaciously to assert that they
are monarchs when they are in the greatest poverty; or clothed [in gold] and purple when
destitute of any covering; or that their head is made of clay, their body of glass, or that they are
gourds? I should certainly be not less insane than they, were I to regulate my procedure according
to examples so extravagant.
5. Though this be true, I must nevertheless here consider that I am a man, and that, consequently,
I am in the habit of sleeping, and representing to myself in dreams those same things, or even
sometimes others less probable, which the insane think are presented to them in their waking
moments. How often have I dreamt that I was in these familiar circumstances, that I was dressed,
and occupied this place by the fire, when I was lying undressed in bed? At the present moment,
however, I certainly look upon this paper with eyes wide awake; the head which I now move is
not asleep; I extend this hand consciously and with express purpose, and I perceive it; the
occurrences in sleep are not so distinct as all this. But I cannot forget that, at other times I have
been deceived in sleep by similar illusions; and, attentively considering those cases, I perceive so
clearly that there exist no certain marks by which the state of waking can ever be distinguished
from sleep, that I feel greatly astonished; and in amazement I almost persuade myself that I am
now dreaming.
6. Let us suppose, then, that we are dreaming, and that all these particulars–namely, the opening
of the eyes, the motion of the head, the forth- putting of the hands–are merely illusions; and even
that we really possess neither an entire body nor hands such as we see. Nevertheless it must be
admitted at least that the objects which appear to us in sleep are, as it were, painted
representations which could not have been formed unless in the likeness of realities; and,
therefore, that those general objects, at all events, namely, eyes, a head, hands, and an entire
body, are not simply imaginary, but really existent. For, in truth, painters themselves, even when
they study to represent sirens and satyrs by forms the most fantastic and extraordinary, cannot
bestow upon them natures absolutely new, but can only make a certain medley of the members of
different animals; or if they chance to imagine something so novel that nothing at all similar has
ever been seen before, and such as is, therefore, purely fictitious and absolutely false, it is at least
certain that the colors of which this is composed are real. And on the same principle, although
these general objects, viz. [a body], eyes, a head, hands, and the like, be imaginary, we are
nevertheless absolutely necessitated to admit the reality at least of some other objects still more
simple and universal than these, of which, just as of certain real colors, all those images of
things, whether true and real, or false and fantastic, that are found in our consciousness
(cogitatio),are formed.
7. To this class of objects seem to belong corporeal nature in general and its extension; the figure
of extended things, their quantity or magnitude, and their number, as also the place in, and the
time during, which they exist, and other things of the same sort.
8. We will not, therefore, perhaps reason illegitimately if we conclude from this that Physics,
Astronomy, Medicine, and all the other sciences that have for their end the consideration of
composite objects, are indeed of a doubtful character; but that Arithmetic, Geometry, and the
other sciences of the same class, which regard merely the simplest and most general objects, and
scarcely inquire whether or not these are really existent, contain somewhat that is certain and
indubitable: for whether I am awake or dreaming, it remains true that two and three make five,
and that a square has but four sides; nor does it seem possible that truths so apparent can ever fall
under a suspicion of falsity [or incertitude].
9. Nevertheless, the belief that there is a God who is all powerful, and who created me, such as I
am, has, for a long time, obtained steady possession of my mind. How, then, do I know that he
has not arranged that there should be neither earth, nor sky, nor any extended thing, nor figure,
nor magnitude, nor place, providing at the same time, however, for [the rise in me of the
perceptions of all these objects, and] the persuasion that these do not exist otherwise than as I
perceive them ? And further, as I sometimes think that others are in error respecting matters of
which they believe themselves to possess a perfect knowledge, how do I know that I am not also
deceived each time I add together two and three, or number the sides of a square, or form some
judgment still more simple, if more simple indeed can be imagined? But perhaps Deity has not
been willing that I should be thus deceived, for he is said to be supremely good. If, however, it
were repugnant to the goodness of Deity to have created me subject to constant deception, it
would seem likewise to be contrary to his goodness to allow me to be occasionally deceived; and
yet it is clear that this is permitted.
10. Some, indeed, might perhaps be found who would be disposed rather to deny the existence of
a Being so powerful than to believe that there is nothing certain. But let us for the present refrain
from opposing this opinion, and grant that all which is here said of a Deity is fabulous:
nevertheless, in whatever way it be supposed that I reach the state in which I exist, whether by
fate, or chance, or by an endless series of antecedents and consequents, or by any other means, it
is clear (since to be deceived and to err is a certain defect ) that the probability of my being so
imperfect as to be the constant victim of deception, will be increased exactly in proportion as the
power possessed by the cause, to which they assign my origin, is lessened. To these reasonings I
have assuredly nothing to reply, but am constrained at last to avow that there is nothing of all that
I formerly believed to be true of which it is impossible to doubt, and that not through
thoughtlessness or levity, but from cogent and maturely considered reasons; so that
henceforward, if I desire to discover anything certain, I ought not the less carefully to refrain
from assenting to those same opinions than to what might be shown to be manifestly false.
11. But it is not sufficient to have made these observations; care must be taken likewise to keep
them in remembrance. For those old and customary opinions perpetually recur– long and
familiar usage giving them the right of occupying my mind, even almost against my will, and
subduing my belief; nor will I lose the habit of deferring to them and confiding in them so long
as I shall consider them to be what in truth they are, viz, opinions to some extent doubtful, as I
have already shown, but still highly probable, and such as it is much more reasonable to believe
than deny. It is for this reason I am persuaded that I shall not be doing wrong, if, taking an
opposite judgment of deliberate design, I become my own deceiver, by supposing, for a time, that
all those opinions are entirely false and imaginary, until at length, having thus balanced my old
by my new prejudices, my judgment shall no longer be turned aside by perverted usage from the
path that may conduct to the perception of truth. For I am assured that, meanwhile, there will
arise neither peril nor error from this course, and that I cannot for the present yield too much to
distrust, since the end I now seek is not action but knowledge.
12. I will suppose, then, not that Deity, who is sovereignly good and the fountain of truth, but
that some malignant demon, who is at once exceedingly potent and deceitful, has employed all
his artifice to deceive me; I will suppose that the sky, the air, the earth, colors, figures, sounds,
and all external things, are nothing better than the illusions of dreams, by means of which this
being has laid snares for my credulity; I will consider myself as without hands, eyes, flesh, blood,
or any of the senses, and as falsely believing that I am possessed of these; I will continue
resolutely fixed in this belief, and if indeed by this means it be not in my power to arrive at the
knowledge of truth, I shall at least do what is in my power, viz, [ suspend my judgment ], and
guard with settled purpose against giving my assent to what is false, and being imposed upon by
this deceiver, whatever be his power and artifice. But this undertaking is arduous, and a certain
indolence insensibly leads me back to my ordinary course of life; and just as the captive, who,
perchance, was enjoying in his dreams an imaginary liberty, when he begins to suspect that it is
but a vision, dreads awakening, and conspires with the agreeable illusions that the deception may
be prolonged; so I, of my own accord, fall back into the train of my former beliefs, and fear to
arouse myself from my slumber, lest the time of laborious wakefulness that would succeed this
quiet rest, in place of bringing any light of day, should prove inadequate to dispel the darkness
that will arise from the difficulties that have now been raised.
MEDITATION II.
OF THE NATURE OF THE HUMAN MIND; AND THAT IT IS
MORE EASILY KNOWN THAN THE BODY.
1. The Meditation of yesterday has filled my mind with so many doubts, that it is no longer in my
power to forget them. Nor do I see, meanwhile, any principle on which they can be resolved; and,
just as if I had fallen all of a sudden into very deep water, I am so greatly disconcerted as to be
unable either to plant my feet firmly on the bottom or sustain myself by swimming on the
surface. I will, nevertheless, make an effort, and try anew the same path on which I had entered
yesterday, that is, proceed by casting aside all that admits of the slightest doubt, not less than if I
had discovered it to be absolutely false; and I will continue always in this track until I shall find
something that is certain, or at least, if I can do nothing more, until I shall know with certainty
that there is nothing certain. Archimedes, that he might transport the entire globe from the place
it occupied to another, demanded only a point that was firm and immovable; so, also, I shall be
entitled to entertain the highest expectations, if I am fortunate enough to discover only one thing
that is certain and indubitable.
2. I suppose, accordingly, that all the things which I see are false (fictitious); I believe that none
of those objects which my fallacious memory represents ever existed; I suppose that I possess no
senses; I believe that body, figure, extension, motion, and place are merely fictions of my mind.
What is there, then, that can be esteemed true ? Perhaps this only, that there is absolutely nothing
certain.
3. But how do I know that there is not something different altogether from the objects I have now
enumerated, of which it is impossible to entertain the slightest doubt? Is there not a God, or some
being, by whatever name I may designate him, who causes these thoughts to arise in my mind ?
But why suppose such a being, for it may be I myself am capable of producing them? Am I, then,
at least not something? But I before denied that I possessed senses or a body; I hesitate, however,
for what follows from that? Am I so dependent on the body and the senses that without these I
cannot exist? But I had the persuasion that there was absolutely nothing in the world, that there
was no sky and no earth, neither minds nor bodies; was I not, therefore, at the same time,
persuaded that I did not exist? Far from it; I assuredly existed, since I was persuaded. But there is
I know not what being, who is possessed at once of the highest power and the deepest cunning,
who is constantly employing all his ingenuity in deceiving me. Doubtless, then, I exist, since I am
deceived; and, let him deceive me as he may, he can never bring it about that I am nothing, so
long as I shall be conscious that I am something. So that it must, in fine, be maintained, all things
being maturely and carefully considered, that this proposition (pronunciatum ) I am, I exist, is
necessarily true each time it is expressed by me, or conceived in my mind.
4. But I do not yet know with sufficient clearness what I am, though assured that I am; and hence,
in the next place, I must take care, lest perchance I inconsiderately substitute some other object in
room of what is properly myself, and thus wander from truth, even in that knowledge ( cognition
) which I hold to be of all others the most certain and evident. For this reason, I will now
consider anew what I formerly believed myself to be, before I entered on the present train of
thought; and of my previous opinion I will retrench all that can in the least be invalidated by the
grounds of doubt I have adduced, in order that there may at length remain nothing but what is
certain and indubitable.
5. What then did I formerly think I was ? Undoubtedly I judged that I was a man. But what is a
man ? Shall I say a rational animal ? Assuredly not; for it would be necessary forthwith to inquire
into what is meant by animal, and what by rational, and thus, from a single question, I should
insensibly glide into others, and these more difficult than the first; nor do I now possess enough
of leisure to warrant me in wasting my time amid subtleties of this sort. I prefer here to attend to
the thoughts that sprung up of themselves in my mind, and were inspired by my own nature
alone, when I applied myself to the consideration of what I was. In the first place, then, I thought
that I possessed a countenance, hands, arms, and all the fabric of members that appears in a
corpse, and which I called by the name of body. It further occurred to me that I was nourished,
that I walked, perceived, and thought, and all those actions I referred to the soul; but what the
soul itself was I either did not stay to consider, or, if I did, I imagined that it was something
extremely rare and subtile, like wind, or flame, or ether, spread through my grosser parts. As
regarded the body, I did not even doubt of its nature, but thought I distinctly knew it, and if I had
wished to describe it according to the notions I then entertained, I should have explained myself
in this manner: By body I understand all that can be terminated by a certain figure; that can be
comprised in a certain place, and so fill a certain space as therefrom to exclude every other body;
that can be perceived either by touch, sight, hearing, taste, or smell; that can be moved in
different ways, not indeed of itself, but by something foreign to it by which it is touched [and
from which it receives the impression]; for the power of self-motion, as likewise that of
perceiving and thinking, I held as by no means pertaining to the nature of body; on the contrary, I
was somewhat astonished to find such faculties existing in some bodies.
6. But [as to myself, what can I now say that I am], since I suppose there exists an extremely
powerful, and, if I may so speak, malignant being, whose whole endeavors are directed toward
deceiving me ? Can I affirm that I possess any one of all those attributes of which I have lately
spoken as belonging to the nature of body ? After attentively considering them in my own mind, I
find none of them that can properly be said to belong to myself. To recount them were idle and
tedious. Let us pass, then, to the attributes of the soul. The first mentioned were the powers of
nutrition and walking; but, if it be true that I have no body, it is true likewise that I am capable
neither of walking nor of being nourished. Perception is another attribute of the soul; but
perception too is impossible without the body; besides, I have frequently, during sleep, believed
that I perceived objects which I afterward observed I did not in reality perceive. Thinking is
another attribute of the soul; and here I discover what properly belongs to myself. This alone is
inseparable from me. I am–I exist: this is certain; but how often? As often as I think; for perhaps
it would even happen, if I should wholly cease to think, that I should at the same time altogether
cease to be. I now admit nothing that is not necessarily true. I am therefore, precisely speaking,
only a thinking thing, that is, a mind (mens sive animus), understanding, or reason, terms whose
signification was before unknown to me. I am, however, a real thing, and really existent; but
what thing? The answer was, a thinking thing.
7. The question now arises, am I aught besides ? I will stimulate my imagination with a view to
discover whether I am not still something more than a thinking being. Now it is plain I am not
the assemblage of members called the human body; I am not a thin and penetrating air diffused
through all these members, or wind, or flame, or vapor, or breath, or any of all the things I can
imagine; for I supposed that all these were not, and, without changing the supposition, I find that
I still feel assured of my existence. But it is true, perhaps, that those very things which I suppose
to be non-existent, because they are unknown to me, are not in truth different from myself whom
I know. This is a point I cannot determine, and do not now enter into any dispute regarding it. I
can only judge of things that are known to me: I am conscious that I exist, and I who know that I
exist inquire into what I am. It is, however, perfectly certain that the knowledge of my existence,
thus precisely taken, is not dependent on things, the existence of which is as yet unknown to me:
and consequently it is not dependent on any of the things I can feign in imagination. Moreover,
the phrase itself, I frame an image (efffingo), reminds me of my error; for I should in truth frame
one if I were to imagine myself to be anything, since to imagine is nothing more than to
contemplate the figure or image of a corporeal thing; but I already know that I exist, and that it is
possible at the same time that all those images, and in general all that relates to the nature of
body, are merely dreams [or chimeras]. From this I discover that it is not more reasonable to say,
I will excite my imagination that I may know more distinctly what I am, than to express myself as
follows: I am now awake, and perceive something real; but because my perception is not
sufficiently clear, I will of express purpose go to sleep that my dreams may represent to me the
object of my perception with more truth and clearness. And, therefore, I know that nothing of all
that I can embrace in imagination belongs to the knowledge which I have of myself, and that
there is need to recall with the utmost care the mind from this mode of thinking, that it may be
able to know its own nature with perfect distinctness.
8. But what, then, am I ? A thinking thing, it has been said. But what is a thinking thing? It is a
thing that doubts, understands, [conceives], affirms, denies, wills, refuses; that imagines also, and
perceives.
9. Assuredly it is not little, if all these properties belong to my nature. But why should they not
belong to it ? Am I not that very being who now doubts of almost everything; who, for all that,
understands and conceives certain things; who affirms one alone as true, and denies the others;
who desires to know more of them, and does not wish to be deceived; who imagines many
things, sometimes even despite his will; and is likewise percipient of many, as if through the
medium of the senses. Is there nothing of all this as true as that I am, even although I should be
always dreaming, and although he who gave me being employed all his ingenuity to deceive me ?
Is there also any one of these attributes that can be properly distinguished from my thought, or
that can be said to be separate from myself ? For it is of itself so evident that it is I who doubt, I
who understand, and I who desire, that it is here unnecessary to add anything by way of rendering
it more clear. And I am as certainly the same being who imagines; for although it may be (as I
before supposed) that nothing I imagine is true, still the power of imagination does not cease
really to exist in me and to form part of my thought. In fine, I am the same being who perceives,
that is, who apprehends certain objects as by the organs of sense, since, in truth, I see light, hear a
noise, and feel heat. But it will be said that these presentations are false, and that I am dreaming.
Let it be so. At all events it is certain that I seem to see light, hear a noise, and feel heat; this
cannot be false, and this is what in me is properly called perceiving (sentire), which is nothing
else than thinking.
10. From this I begin to know what I am with somewhat greater clearness and distinctness than
heretofore. But, nevertheless, it still seems to me, and I cannot help believing, that corporeal
things, whose images are formed by thought [which fall under the senses], and are examined by
the same, are known with much greater distinctness than that I know not what part of myself
which is not imaginable; although, in truth, it may seem strange to say that I know and
comprehend with greater distinctness things whose existence appears to me doubtful, that are
unknown, and do not belong to me, than others of whose reality I am persuaded, that are known
to me, and appertain to my proper nature; in a word, than myself. But I see clearly what is the
state of the case. My mind is apt to wander, and will not yet submit to be restrained within the
limits of truth. Let us therefore leave the mind to itself once more, and, according to it every kind
of liberty [permit it to consider the objects that appear to it from without], in order that, having
afterward withdrawn it from these gently and opportunely [ and fixed it on the consideration of
its being and the properties it finds in itself], it may then be the more easily controlled.
11. Let us now accordingly consider the objects that are commonly thought to be [the most
easily, and likewise] the most distinctly known, viz, the bodies we touch and see; not, indeed,
bodies in general, for these general notions are usually somewhat more confused, but one body in
particular. Take, for example, this piece of wax; it is quite fresh, having been but recently taken
from the beehive; it has not yet lost the sweetness of the honey it contained; it still retains
somewhat of the odor of the flowers from which it was gathered; its color, figure, size, are
apparent ( to the sight ); it is hard, cold, easily handled; and sounds when struck upon with the
finger. In fine, all that contributes to make a body as distinctly known as possible, is found in the
one before us. But, while I am speaking, let it be placed near the fire–what remained of the taste
exhales, the smell evaporates, the color changes, its figure is destroyed, its size increases, it
becomes liquid, it grows hot, it can hardly be handled, and, although struck upon, it emits no
sound. Does the same wax still remain after this change ? It must be admitted that it does remain;
no one doubts it, or judges otherwise. What, then, was it I knew with so much distinctness in the
piece of wax? Assuredly, it could be nothing of all that I observed by means of the senses, since
all the things that fell under taste, smell, sight, touch, and hearing are changed, and yet the same
wax remains.
12. It was perhaps what I now think, viz, that this wax was neither the sweetness of honey, the
pleasant odor of flowers, the whiteness, the figure, nor the sound, but only a body that a little
before appeared to me conspicuous under these forms, and which is now perceived under others.
But, to speak precisely, what is it that I imagine when I think of it in this way? Let it be
attentively considered, and, retrenching all that does not belong to the wax, let us see what
remains. There certainly remains nothing, except something extended, flexible, and movable. But
what is meant by flexible and movable ? Is it not that I imagine that the piece of wax, being
round, is capable of becoming square, or of passing from a square into a triangular figure ?
Assuredly such is not the case, because I conceive that it admits of an infinity of similar changes;
and I am, moreover, unable to compass this infinity by imagination, and consequently this
conception which I have of the wax is not the product of the faculty of imagination. But what
now is this extension ? Is it not also unknown ? for it becomes greater when the wax is melted,
greater when it is boiled, and greater still when the heat increases; and I should not conceive
[clearly and] according to truth, the wax as it is, if I did not suppose that the piece we are
considering admitted even of a wider variety of extension than I ever imagined, I must, therefore,
admit that I cannot even comprehend by imagination what the piece of wax is, and that it is the
mind alone ( mens, Lat., entendement, F.) which perceives it. I speak of one piece in particular;
for as to wax in general, this is still more evident. But what is the piece of wax that can be
perceived only by the [understanding or] mind? It is certainly the same which I see, touch,
imagine; and, in fine, it is the same which, from the beginning, I believed it to be. But (and this it
is of moment to observe) the perception of it is neither an act of sight, of touch, nor of
imagination, and never was either of these, though it might formerly seem so, but is simply an
intuition (inspectio) of the mind, which may be imperfect and confused, as it formerly was, or
very clear and distinct, as it is at present, according as the attention is more or less directed to the
elements which it contains, and of which it is composed.
13. But, meanwhile, I feel greatly astonished when I observe [the weakness of my mind, and] its
proneness to error. For although, without at all giving expression to what I think, I consider all
this in my own mind, words yet occasionally impede my progress, and I am almost led into error
by the terms of ordinary language. We say, for example, that we see the same wax when it is
before us, and not that we judge it to be the same from its retaining the same color and figure:
whence I should forthwith be disposed to conclude that the wax is known by the act of sight, and
not by the intuition of the mind alone, were it not for the analogous instance of human beings
passing on in the street below, as observed from a window. In this case I do not fail to say that I
see the men themselves, just as I say that I see the wax; and yet what do I see from the window
beyond hats and cloaks that might cover artificial machines, whose motions might be determined
by springs ? But I judge that there are human beings from these appearances, and thus I
comprehend, by the faculty of judgment alone which is in the mind, what I believed I saw with
my eyes.
14. The man who makes it his aim to rise to knowledge superior to the common, ought to be
ashamed to seek occasions of doubting from the vulgar forms of speech: instead, therefore, of
doing this, I shall proceed with the matter in hand, and inquire whether I had a clearer and more
perfect perception of the piece of wax when I first saw it, and when I thought I knew it by means
of the external sense itself, or, at all events, by the common sense (sensus communis), as it is
called, that is, by the imaginative faculty; or whether I rather apprehend it more clearly at present,
after having examined with greater care, both what it is, and in what way it can be known. It
would certainly be ridiculous to entertain any doubt on this point. For what, in that first
perception, was there distinct ? What did I perceive which any animal might not have perceived ?
But when I distinguish the wax from its exterior forms, and when, as if I had stripped it of its
vestments, I consider it quite naked, it is certain, although some error may still be found in my
judgment, that I cannot, nevertheless, thus apprehend it without possessing a human mind.
15. But finally, what shall I say of the mind itself, that is, of myself ? for as yet I do not admit
that I am anything but mind. What, then! I who seem to possess so distinct an apprehension of
the piece of wax, do I not know myself, both with greater truth and certitude, and also much
more distinctly and clearly? For if I judge that the wax exists because I see it, it assuredly
follows, much more evidently, that I myself am or exist, for the same reason: for it is possible
that what I see may not in truth be wax, and that I do not even possess eyes with which to see
anything; but it cannot be that when I see, or, which comes to the same thing, when I think I see,
I myself who think am nothing. So likewise, if I judge that the wax exists because I touch it, it
will still also follow that I am; and if I determine that my imagination, or any other cause,
whatever it be, persuades me of the existence of the wax, I will still draw the same conclusion.
And what is here remarked of the piece of wax, is applicable to all the other things that are
external to me. And further, if the [notion or] perception of wax appeared to me more precise and
distinct, after that not only sight and touch, but many other causes besides, rendered it manifest to
my apprehension, with how much greater distinctness must I now know myself, since all the
reasons that contribute to the knowledge of the nature of wax, or of any body whatever, manifest
still better the nature of my mind ? And there are besides so many other things in the mind itself
that contribute to the illustration of its nature, that those dependent on the body, to which I have
here referred, scarcely merit to be taken into account.
16. But, in conclusion, I find I have insensibly reverted to the point I desired; for, since it is now
manifest to me that bodies themselves are not properly perceived by the senses nor by the faculty
of imagination, but by the intellect alone; and since they are not perceived because they are seen
and touched, but only because they are understood [ or rightly comprehended by thought ], I
readily discover that there is nothing more easily or clearly apprehended than my own mind. But
because it is difficult to rid one’s self so promptly of an opinion to which one has been long
accustomed, it will be desirable to tarry for some time at this stage, that, by long continued
meditation, I may more deeply impress upon my memory this new knowledge.
An Essay Concerning Human Understanding
John Locke
Book 1
Chapter I
No Innate Speculative Principles
1. The way shown how we come by any knowledge, sufficient to prove it not innate. It is an
established opinion amongst some men, that there are in the understanding certain innate
principles; some primary notions, koinai ennoiai, characters, as it were stamped upon the mind of
man; which the soul receives in its very first being, and brings into the world with it. It would be
sufficient to convince unprejudiced readers of the falseness of this supposition, if I should only
show (as I hope I shall in the following parts of this Discourse) how men, barely by the use of
their natural faculties, may attain to all the knowledge they have, without the help of any innate
impressions; and may arrive at certainty, without any such original notions or principles. For I
imagine any one will easily grant that it would be impertinent to suppose the ideas of colours
innate in a creature to whom God hath given sight, and a power to receive them by the eyes from
external objects: and no less unreasonable would it be to attribute several truths to the
impressions of nature, and innate characters, when we may observe in ourselves faculties fit to
attain as easy and certain knowledge of them as if they were originally imprinted on the mind.
But because a man is not permitted without censure to follow his own thoughts in the search of
truth, when they lead him ever so little out of the common road, I shall set down the reasons that
made me doubt of the truth of that opinion, as an excuse for my mistake, if I be in one; which I
leave to be considered by those who, with me, dispose themselves to embrace truth wherever
they find it.
15. The steps by which the mind attains several truths. The senses at first let in particular ideas,
and furnish the yet empty cabinet, and the mind by degrees growing familiar with some of them,
they are lodged in the memory, and names got to them. Afterwards, the mind proceeding further,
abstracts them, and by degrees learns the use of general names. In this manner the mind comes to
be furnished with ideas and language, the materials about which to exercise its discursive faculty.
And the use of reason becomes daily more visible, as these materials that give it employment
increase. But though the having of general ideas and the use of general words and reason usually
grow together, yet I see not how this any way proves them innate. The knowledge of some truths,
I confess, is very early in the mind but in a way that shows them not to be innate. For, if we will
observe, we shall find it still to be about ideas, not innate, but acquired; it being about those first
which are imprinted by external things, with which infants have earliest to do, which make the
most frequent impressions on their senses. In ideas thus got, the mind discovers that some agree
and others differ, probably as soon as it has any use of memory; as soon as it is able to retain and
perceive distinct ideas. But whether it be then or no, this is certain, it does so long before it has
the use of words; or comes to that which we commonly call “the use of reason.” For a child
knows as certainly before it can speak the difference between the ideas of sweet and bitter (i.e.
that sweet is not bitter), as it knows afterwards (when it comes to speak) that wormwood and
sugarplums are not the same thing.
16. Assent to supposed innate truths depends on having clear and distinct ideas of what their
terms mean, and not on their innateness. A child knows not that three and four are equal to seven,
till he comes to be able to count seven, and has got the name and idea of equality; and then, upon
explaining those words, he presently assents to, or rather perceives the truth of that proposition.
But neither does he then readily assent because it is an innate truth, nor was his assent wanting
till then because he wanted the use of reason; but the truth of it appears to him as soon as he has
settled in his mind the clear and distinct ideas that these names stand for. And then he knows the
truth of that proposition upon the same grounds and by the same means, that he knew before that
a rod and a cherry are not the same thing; and upon the same grounds also that he may come to
know afterwards “That it is impossible for the same thing to be and not to be,” as shall be more
fully shown hereafter. So that the later it is before any one comes to have those general ideas
about which those maxims are; or to know the signification of those general terms that stand for
them; or to put together in his mind the ideas they stand for; the later also will it be before he
comes to assent to those maxims;- whose terms, with the ideas they stand for, being no more
innate than those of a cat or a weasel, he must stay till time and observation have acquainted him
with them; and then he will be in a capacity to know the truth of these maxims, upon the first
occasion that shall make him put together those ideas in his mind, and observe whether they
agree or disagree, according as is expressed in those propositions. And therefore it is that a man
knows that eighteen and nineteen are equal to thirty-seven, by the same self-evidence that he
knows one and two to be equal to three: yet a child knows this not so soon as the other; not for
want of the use of reason, but because the ideas the words eighteen, nineteen, and thirty-seven
stand for, are not so soon got, as those which are signified by one, two, and three.
Book 2
Chapter I
Of Ideas in general, and their Original
2. All ideas come from sensation or reflection. Let us then suppose the mind to be, as we say,
white paper, void of all characters, without any ideas:- How comes it to be furnished? Whence
comes it by that vast store which the busy and boundless fancy of man has painted on it with an
almost endless variety? Whence has it all the materials of reason and knowledge? To this I
answer, in one word, from EXPERIENCE. In that all our knowledge is founded; and from that it
ultimately derives itself. Our observation employed either, about external sensible objects, or
about the internal operations of our minds perceived and reflected on by ourselves, is that which
supplies our understandings with all the materials of thinking. These two are the fountains of
knowledge, from whence all the ideas we have, or can naturally have, do spring.
3. The objects of sensation one source of ideas. First, our Senses, conversant about particular
sensible objects, do convey into the mind several distinct perceptions of things, according to
those various ways wherein those objects do affect them. And thus we come by those ideas we
have of yellow, white, heat, cold, soft, hard, bitter, sweet, and all those which we call sensible
qualities; which when I say the senses convey into the mind, I mean, they from external objects
convey into the mind what produces there those perceptions. This great source of most of the
ideas we have, depending wholly upon our senses, and derived by them to the understanding, I
call SENSATION.
4. The operations of our minds, the other source of them. Secondly, the other fountain from
which experience furnisheth the understanding with ideas is,- the perception of the operations of
our own mind within us, as it is employed about the ideas it has got;- which operations, when the
soul comes to reflect on and consider, do furnish the understanding with another set of ideas,
which could not be had from things without. And such are perception, thinking, doubting,
believing, reasoning, knowing, willing, and all the different actings of our own minds;- which we
being conscious of, and observing in ourselves, do from these receive into our understandings as
distinct ideas as we do from bodies affecting our senses. This source of ideas every man has
wholly in himself; and though it be not sense, as having nothing to do with external objects, yet it
is very like it, and might properly enough be called internal sense. But as I call the other
SENSATION, so I Call this REFLECTION, the ideas it affords being such only as the mind gets
by reflecting on its own operations within itself. By reflection then, in the following part of this
discourse, I would be understood to mean, that notice which the mind takes of its own
operations, and the manner of them, by reason whereof there come to be ideas of these operations
in the understanding. These two, I say, viz. external material things, as the objects of
SENSATION, and the operations of our own minds within, as the objects of REFLECTION, are
to me the only originals from whence all our ideas take their beginnings. The term operations
here I use in a large sense, as comprehending not barely the actions of the mind about its ideas,
but some sort of passions arising sometimes from them, such as is the satisfaction or uneasiness
arising from any thought.
Chapter II
Of Simple Ideas
1. Uncompounded appearances. The better to understand the nature, manner, and extent of our
knowledge, one thing is carefully to be observed concerning the ideas we have; and that is, that
some of them are simple and some complex.
Though the qualities that affect our senses are, in the things themselves, so united and blended,
that there is no separation, no distance between them; yet it is plain, the ideas they produce in the
mind enter by the senses simple and unmixed. For, though the sight and touch often take in from
the same object, at the same time, different ideas;- as a man sees at once motion and colour; the
hand feels softness and warmth in the same piece of wax: yet the simple ideas thus united in the
same subject, are as perfectly distinct as those that come in by different senses. The coldness and
hardness which a man feels in a piece of ice being as distinct ideas in the mind as the smell and
whiteness of a lily; or as the taste of sugar, and smell of a rose. And there is nothing can be
plainer to a man than the clear and distinct perception he has of those simple ideas; which, being
each in itself uncompounded, contains in it nothing but one uniform appearance, or conception in
the mind, and is not distinguishable into different ideas.
2. The mind can neither make nor destroy them. These simple ideas, the materials of all our
knowledge, are suggested and furnished to the mind only by those two ways above mentioned,
viz. sensation and reflection. When the understanding is once stored with these simple ideas, it
has the power to repeat, compare, and unite them, even to an almost infinite variety, and so can
make at pleasure new complex ideas. But it is not in the power of the most exalted wit, or
enlarged understanding, by any quickness or variety of thought, to invent or frame one new
simple idea in the mind, not taken in by the ways before mentioned: nor can any force of the
understanding destroy those that are there. The dominion of man, in this little world of his own
understanding being muchwhat the same as it is in the great world of visible things; wherein his
power, however managed by art and skill, reaches no farther than to compound and divide the
materials that are made to his hand; but can do nothing towards the making the least particle of
new matter, or destroying one atom of what is already in being. The same inability will every one
find in himself, who shall go about to fashion in his understanding one simple idea, not received
in by his senses from external objects, or by reflection from the operations of his own mind about
them. I would have any one try to fancy any taste which had never affected his palate; or frame
the idea of a scent he had never smelt: and when he can do this, I will also conclude that a blind
man hath ideas of colours, and a deaf man true distinct notions of sounds.
Book 2
Chapter VIII
Some further considerations concerningour Simple Ideas of Sensation
8. Our ideas and the qualities of bodies. Whatsoever the mind perceives in itself, or is the
immediate object of perception, thought, or understanding, that I call idea; and the power to
produce any idea in our mind, I call quality of the subject wherein that power is. Thus a snowball
having the power to produce in us the ideas of white, cold, and round,- the power to produce
those ideas in us, as they are in the snowball, I call qualities; and as they are sensations or
perceptions in our understandings, I call them ideas; which ideas, if I speak of sometimes as in
the things themselves, I would be understood to mean those qualities in the objects which
produce them in us.
9. Primary qualities of bodies. Qualities thus considered in bodies are,
First, such as are utterly inseparable from the body, in what state soever it be; and such as in all
the alterations and changes it suffers, all the force can be used upon it, it constantly keeps; and
such as sense constantly finds in every particle of matter which has bulk enough to be perceived;
and the mind finds inseparable from every particle of matter, though less than to make itself
singly be perceived by our senses: v.g. Take a grain of wheat, divide it into two parts; each part
has still solidity, extension, figure, and mobility: divide it again, and it retains still the same
qualities; and so divide it on, till the parts become insensible; they must retain still each of them
all those qualities. For division (which is all that a mill, or pestle, or any other body, does upon
another, in reducing it to insensible parts) can never take away either solidity, extension, figure,
or mobility from any body, but only makes two or more distinct separate masses of matter, of that
which was but one before; all which distinct masses, reckoned as so many distinct bodies, after
division, make a certain number. These I call original or primary qualities of body, which I think
we may observe to produce simple ideas in us, viz. solidity, extension, figure, motion or rest, and
number.
10. Secondary qualities of bodies. Secondly, such qualities which in truth are nothing in the
objects themselves but power to produce various sensations in us by their primary qualities, i.e.
by the bulk, figure, texture, and motion of their insensible parts, as colours, sounds, tastes, &c.
These I call secondary qualities. To these might be added a third sort, which are allowed to be
barely powers; though they are as much real qualities in the subject as those which I, to comply
with the common way of speaking, call qualities, but for distinction, secondary qualities. For the
power in fire to produce a new colour, or consistency, in wax or clay,- by its primary qualities, is
as much a quality in fire, as the power it has to produce in me a new idea or sensation of warmth
or burning, which I felt not before,- by the same primary qualities, viz. the bulk, texture, and
motion of its insensible parts.
Book 2
Chapter XII
Of Complex Ideas
1. Made by the mind out of simple ones. We have hitherto considered those ideas, in the
reception whereof the mind is only passive, which are those simple ones received from sensation
and reflection before mentioned, whereof the mind cannot make one to itself, nor have any idea
which does not wholly consist of them. But as the mind is wholly passive in the reception of all
its simple ideas, so it exerts several acts of its own, whereby out of its simple ideas, as the
materials and foundations of the rest, the others are framed. The acts of the mind, wherein it
exerts its power over its simple ideas, are chiefly these three: (1) Combining several simple ideas
into one compound one; and thus all complex ideas are made. (2) The second is bringing two
ideas, whether simple or complex, together, and setting them by one another, so as to take a view
of them at once, without uniting them into one; by which way it gets all its ideas of relations. (3)
The third is separating them from all other ideas that accompany them in their real existence: this
is called abstraction: and thus all its general ideas are made. This shows man’s power, and its
ways of operation, to be much the same in the material and intellectual world. For the materials
in both being such as he has no power over, either to make or destroy, all that man can do is
either to unite them together, or to set them by one another, or wholly separate them. I shall here
begin with the first of these in the consideration of complex ideas, and come to the other two in
their due places. As simple ideas are observed to exist in several combinations united together, so
the mind has a power to consider several of them united together as one idea; and that not only as
they are united in external objects, but as itself has joined them together. Ideas thus made up of
several simple ones put together, I call complex;- such as are beauty, gratitude, a man, an army,
the universe; which, though complicated of various simple ideas, or complex ideas made up of
simple ones, yet are, when the mind pleases, considered each by itself, as one entire thing, and
signified by one name.
Book 2
Chapter XXIII
Of our Complex Ideas of Substances
1. Ideas of particular substances, how made. The mind being, as I have declared, furnished with a
great number of the simple ideas, conveyed in by the senses as they are found in exterior things,
or by reflection on its own operations, takes notice also that a certain number of these simple
ideas go constantly together; which being presumed to belong to one thing, and words being
suited to common apprehensions, and made use of for quick dispatch, are called, so united in one
subject, by one name; which, by inadvertency, we are apt afterward to talk of and consider as one
simple idea, which indeed is a complication of many ideas together: because, as I have said, not
imagining how these simple ideas can subsist by themselves, we accustom ourselves to suppose
some substratum wherein they do subsist, and from which they do result, which therefore we call
substance.
2. Our obscure idea of substance in general. So that if any one will examine himself concerning
his notion of pure substance in general, he will find he has no other idea of it at all, but only a
supposition of he knows not what support of such qualities which are capable of producing
simple ideas in us; which qualities are commonly called accidents. If any one should be asked,
what is the subject wherein colour or weight inheres, he would have nothing to say, but the solid
extended parts; and if he were demanded, what is it that solidity and extension adhere in, he
would not be in a much better case than the Indian before mentioned who, saying that the world
was supported by a great elephant, was asked what the elephant rested on; to which his answer
was- a great tortoise: but being again pressed to know what gave support to the broad-backed
tortoise, replied- something, he knew not what. And thus here, as in all other cases where we use
words without having clear and distinct ideas, we talk like children: who, being questioned what
such a thing is, which they know not, readily give this satisfactory answer, that it is something:
which in truth signifies no more, when so used, either by children or men, but that they know not
what; and that the thing they pretend to know, and talk of, is what they have no distinct idea of at
all, and so are perfectly ignorant of it, and in the dark. The idea then we have, to which we give
the general name substance, being nothing but the supposed, but unknown, support of those
qualities we find existing, which we imagine cannot subsist sine re substante, without something
to support them, we call that support substantia; which, according to the true import of the word,
is, in plain English, standing under or upholding.
4. No clear or distinct idea of substance in general. Hence, when we talk or think of any
particular sort of corporeal substances, as horse, stone, &c., though the idea we have of either of
them be but the complication or collection of those several simple ideas of sensible qualities,
which we used to find united in the thing called horse or stone; yet, because we cannot conceive
how they should subsist alone, nor one in another, we suppose them existing in and supported by
some common subject; which support we denote by the name substance, though it be certain we
have no clear or distinct idea of that thing we suppose a support.
