ders not but that they themselves, as well as all other men, got the first ideas which they had of infinity from sensation and reflection, in the method we have here set down.

CHAPTER XVIII.

OF OTHER SIMPLE MODES.

1. Modes of motion. Though I have in the foregoing chapters shown how, from simple ideas taken in by sensation the mind comes to extend itself even to infinity; which, however it may of all others seem most remote from any sensible perception, yet at last hath nothing in it but what is made out of simple ideas received into the mind by the senses, and afterwards there put together by the faculty the mind has to repeat its own ideas: though, I say, these might be instances enough of simple modes of the simple ideas of sensation, and suffice to show how the mind comes by them; yet I shall, for method's sake, though briefly, give an account of some few more, and then proceed to more complex ideas.

2. To slide, roll, tumble, walk, creep, run, dance, leap, skip, and abundance of others that might be named, are words which are no sooner heard but every one who understands English has presently in his mind distinct ideas which are all but the different modifications of motion. Modes of motion answer those of extension swift and slow are two different ideas of motion, the measures whereof are made of the distances of time and space put together; so they are complex ideas comprehending time and space with motion.

3. Modes of sounds.-The like variety have we in sounds. Every articulate word is a different modification of sound; by which we see that, from the sense of hearing, by such modifications, the mind may be furnished with distinct ideas to almost an infinite number. Sounds, also, besides the distinct cries of birds and beasts, are modified by diversity of notes of different length put together, which make that complex idea called a "tune," which a musician may have in his mind when he hears or makes no sound at all, by reflecting on the ideas of those sounds so put together silently in his own fancy.

4. Modes of colours.-Those of colours are also very various; some we take notice of, as the different degrees, or, as they are termed, "shades," of the same colour. But since we very seldom make assemblages of colours either for use or delight but figure is taken in also, and has its part in it, as in painting, weaving, needle-works, &c. those which are taken notice of do most commonly belong to mixed modes, as being made up of ideas of divers kinds, viz. figure and colour, such as beauty, rainbow, &c.

5. Modes of tastes.-All compounded tastes and smells are also modes made up of these simple ideas of those senses. But they, being such as generally we have no names for, are less taken notice of, and cannot be set down in writing; and therefore must be left without enumeration to the thoughts and experience of my reader.

6. Some simple modes have no names. In general it may be observed that those simple modes which are considered but as different degrees of the same simple idea, though they are in themselves, many of them, very distinct ideas, yet have ordinarily no distinct names, nor are much taken notice of as distinct ideas where the difference is but very small between them. Whether men have neglected these modes, and given no names to them, as wanting measures nicely to distinguish them; or because, when they were so distinguished, that knowledge would not be of general or necessary use; I leave it to the thoughts of others: it is sufficient to my purpose to show, that all our simple ideas come to our minds only by sensation and reflection; and that when the mind has them, it can variously repeat and compound them, and so make new complex ideas. But though white, red, or sweet, &c. have not been modified or made into complex ideas by several combinations so as to be named, and thereby ranked into species; yet some others of the simple ideas (viz. those of unity, duration, motion, &c. above instanced in, as also power and thinking) have been thus modified to a great variety of complex ideas with names belonging to them.

7. Why some modes have and others have not names.-The reason whereof, I suppose, has been this, that the great concernment of men being with men one amongst another, the knowledge of men and their actions and the signifying of them to one another was most necessary; and therefore they made ideas of action very nicely modified, and gave those complex ideas names, that they might the more easily record and discourse of those things they were daily conversant in without long ambages and circumlocutions; and that the things they were continually to give and receive information about might be the easier and quicker understood. That this is so, and that men, in framing different complex ideas, and giving them names, have been much governed by the end of speech in general, (which is a very short and expedite way of conveying their thoughts one to another,) is evident in the names which in several arts have been found out and applied to several complex ideas of modified actions belonging to their several trades, for dispatch sake, in their direction or discourses about them. Which ideas are not generally framed in the minds of men not conversant about these operations. And hence the words that stand for them by the greatest part of men of the same language are not understood. V. g. Colshire, drilling, filtration, cohobation, are words standing for certain complex ideas, which being seldom in the minds of any but those few whose particular employments do at every turn suggest them to their thoughts, those names of them are not generally understood but by smiths and chemists; who, having framed the complex ideas which these words stand for, and having given names to them or received them from others, upon hearing of these names in communication readily conceive those ideas in their minds; as by cohobation, all the simple ideas of distilling, and the pouring the liquor distilled from any thing * A word compounded of coulter and share, which is sometimes written coultshare.— EDIT.

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back upon the remaining matter, and distilling it again. Thus we see that there are great varieties of simple ideas, as of tastes and smells, which have no names; and of modes, many more. Which either not having been generally enough observed, or else not being of any great use to be taken notice of in the affairs and converse of men, they have not had names given to them, and so pass not for species. This we shall have occasion hereafter to consider more at large when we come to speak of words.

1. Sensation, remembrance, contemplation, &c.—When the mind turns its view inwards upon itself, and contemplates its own actions, thinking is the first that occurs. In it the mind observes. a great variety of modifications, and from thence receives distinct ideas. Thus the perception which actually accompanies and is annexed to any impression on the body made by an external object, being distinct from all other modifications of thinking, furnishes the mind with a distinct idea which we call "sensation; which is, as it were, the actual entrance of any idea into the understanding by the senses. The same idea, when it again recurs without the operation of the like object on the external sensory, is "remembrance:" if it be sought after by the mind, and with pain and endeavour found, and brought again in view, it is "recollection:" if it be held there long under attentive consideration, it is "contemplation:" when ideas float in our mind without any reflection or regard of the understanding, it is that which the French call reverie; our language has scarce a name for it: when the ideas that offer themselves (for, as I have observed in another place, whilst we are awake there will always be a train of ideas succeeding one another in our minds) are taken notice of, and, as it were, registered in the memory, it is "attention:" when the mind with great earnestness, and of choice, fixes its view on any idea, considers it on all sides, and will not be called off by the ordinary solicitation of other ideas, it is that we call "intension," or "study:" "sleep," without dreaming, is rest from all these: and "dreaming" itself is the having of ideas (whilst the outward senses are stopped, so that they receive not outward objects with their usual quickness) in the mind, not suggested by any external objects or known occasion, nor under any choice or conduct of the understanding at all; and whether that which we call "ecstasy" be not dreaming with the eyes open, I leave to be examined.

2. These are some few instances of those various modes of thinking which the mind may observe in itself, and so have as distinct ideas of as it hath of white and red, a square or a circle. I do not pretend to enumerate them all, nor to treat at large of this set of ideas which are got from reflection; that would be to make a volume. It suffices to my present purpose to have shown here, by some few examples, of what sort these ideas are, and how the mind

comes by them; especially since I shall have occasion hereafter to treat more at large of reasoning, judging, volition, and knowledge, which are some of the most considerable operations of the mind, and modes of thinking.

3. The various attention of the mind in thinking.—But perhaps it may not be an unpardonable digression, nor wholly impertinent to our present design, if we reflect here upon the different state of the mind in thinking which those instances of attention, reverie, and dreaming, &c. before-mentioned, naturally enough suggest. That there are ideas, some or other, always present in the mind of a waking man, every one's experience convinces him; though the mind employs itself about them with several degrees of attention. Sometimes the mind fixes itself with so much earnestness on the contemplation of some objects, that it turns their ideas on all sides, remarks their relations and circumstances, and views every part so nicely, and with such intension, that it shuts out all other thoughts, and takes no notice of the ordinary impressions made then on the senses, which at another season would produce very sensible perceptions; at other times, it barely observes the train of ideas that succeed in the understanding without directing and pursuing any of them; and at other times it lets them pass almost quite unregarded, as faint shadows that make no impression.

4. Hence it is probable that thinking is the action, not essence, of the soul. This difference of intension and remission of the mind in thinking, with a great variety of degrees between earnest study and very near minding nothing at all, every one, I think, has experimented in himself. Trace it a little farther, and you find the mind in sleep retired, as it were, from the senses, and out of the reach of those motions made on the organs of sense, which at other times produce very vivid and sensible ideas. I need not, for this, instance in those who sleep out whole stormy nights without hearing the thunder, or seeing the lightning, or feeling the shaking of the house, which are sensible enough to those who are waking. But in this retirement of the mind from the senses, it often retains a yet more loose and incoherent manner of thinking, which we call "dreaming;" and, last of all, sound sleep closes the scene quite, and puts an end to all appearances. This, I think, almost every one has experience of in himself, and his own observation without difficulty leads him thus far. That which I would farther conclude from hence is, that since the mind can sensibly put on, at several times, several degrees of thinking; and be sometimes even in a waking man so remiss as to have thoughts dim and obscure, to that degree that they are very little removed from none at all; and at last, in the dark retirements of sound sleep, loses the sight perfectly of all ideas whatsoever: since, I say, this is evidently so in matter of fact and constant experience, I ask, whether it be not probable, that thinking is the action and not the essence of the soul? since the operations of agents will easily admit of intension and remission; but the essences of things are not conceived capable of any such variation. But this by the by.

CHAPTER XX.

OF MODES OF PLEASURE AND PAIN.

1. Pleasure and pain simple ideas.-Amongst the simple ideas which we receive both from sensation and reflection, pain and pleasure are two very considerable ones. For as in the body there is sensation barely in itself, or accompanied with pain or pleasure; so the thought or perception of the mind is simply so, or else accompanied also with pleasure or pain, delight or trouble, call it how you please. These, like other simple ideas, cannot be described, nor their names defined: the way of knowing them is, as of the simple ideas of the senses, only by experience. For to define them by the presence of good or evil, is no otherwise to make them known to us than by making us reflect on what we feel in ourselves, upon the several and various operations of good and evil upon our minds, as they are differently applied to or considered by us.

2. Good and evil, what.— Things then are good or evil only in reference to pleasure or pain. That we call "good," which is apt to cause or increase pleasure, or diminish pain, in us; or else to procure or preserve us the possession of any other good, or absence of any evil. And, on the contrary, we name that "evil," which is apt to produce or increase any pain, or diminish any pleasure, in us; or else to procure us any evil, or deprive us of any good. By pleasure" and "pain," I must be understood to mean of body or mind, as they are commonly distinguished; though, in truth, they be only different constitutions of the mind, sometimes occasioned by disorder in the body, sometimes by thoughts in the mind.

3. Our passions moved by good and evil.-Pleasure and pain, and that which causes them, good and evil, are the hinges on which our passions turn: and if we reflect on ourselves, and observe how these, under various considerations, operate in us,-what modifications or tempers of mind, what internal sensations, (if I may so call them,) they produce in us, we may thence form to ourselves the ideas of our passions.

4. Love. Thus any one reflecting upon the thought he has of the delight which any present or absent thing is apt to produce in him, has the idea we call "love." For when a man declares in autumn, when he is eating them, or in spring, when there are none, that he loves grapes, it is no more but that the taste of grapes delights him: let an alteration of health or constitution destroy the delight of their taste, and he then can be said to love grapes no longer.

5. Hatred. On the contrary, the thought of the pain which any thing present or absent is apt to produce in us, is what we call "hatred." Were it my business here to inquire any farther than into the bare ideas of our passions, as they depend on different modifications of pleasure and pain, I should remark, that our love and hatred of inanimate, insensible beings is commonly founded