comprehension. Thus men, extending their enquiries beyond their capacities, and letting their thoughts wander into those depths where they can find no sure footing, it is no wonder that they raise questions, and multiply disputes, which, never coming to any clear resolution, are proper only to continue and increase their doubts, and to confirm them at last in perfect scepticism. Whereas, were the capacities of our understanding well considered, the extent of our knowledge once discovered, and the horizon found, which sets the bounds between the enlightened and dark parts of things, between what is and what is not comprehensible by us; men would perhaps, with less scruple, acquiesce in the avowed ignorance of the one, and employ their thoughts and discourse with more advantage and satisfaction in the other.' Book I. c. i.

All this had been better expressed before, that is, with less verbosity and more precision; but the manner in which it is dwelt upon as well as many repetitions of the same thought, in different parts of the work, shows that it was not a casual, but a fixed sentiment of the author; yet how frequently does he lose sight of it! Indeed we can hardly persuade ourselves sometimes that he was aware of what he had stated in the above paragraph, or that he could have deliberately annexed what seems to be the obvious meaning to his words.

2. Another and a chief cause of the confusion which pervades the Essay concerning Human Understanding was the author's unskilfulnes in words, or the want of mastery in language considered as the instrument and medium of thought. He is a remarkable contrast to Hobbes and even to Bacon in this respect. Indeed their admonitions and example, as to the importance of attending to the nature of language and the meaning of words, in reference to the correct reception and communication of knowledge, seem to have been wholly lost upon him. He says, Book III. c. ix, 'I must confess, then, that when I first began this discourse of the understanding, and a good while after, I had not the least thought that any consideration of words was at all necessary to it. But when, having passed over the original and composition of our ideas, I began to examine the extent and certainty of our knowledge, I found it had so near a connexion with words that, unless their force and manner of signification were first well observed, there could be very little said clearly and pertinently concerning knowledge, which, being conversant about truth, had constantly to do with propositions. And, though it terminated in things, yet it was for the most part so much by the intervention of words that they seemed scarcely separable from our general knowledge. At least they interpose themselves so much, between our understanding and the truth which it would contemplate and apprehend, that like the medium through which visible objects pass, their obscurity and disorder does not seldom cast a mist before our eyes, and impose on our understandings. If we consider, in the fallacies men put upon themselves as well as others, and the mistakes in men's disputes and notions, how great a part is owing to words, and their uncertain or mistaken significations,

we shall have reason to think this no small obstacle in the way to knowledge; which, I conclude, we are the more carefully to be warned of, because it has been so far from being taken notice of, as an inconvenience, that the arts of improving it have been made the business of men's study, and obtained the reputation of learning and subtilty, as we shall see in the following chapter. But I am apt to imagine that, were the imperfections of language, as the instrument of knowledge, more thoroughly weighed, a great many of the controversies, that make such a noise in the world, would of themselves cease; and the way to knowledge, and perhaps peace too, lie a great deal opener than it does.'

This is the burden (for the author always seems toiling at his task-there is never that appearance of ease and mastery inseparable from original genius, as in Bacon and Hobbes, and other powerful writers) of the third book, by far the best of the whole work, as justly observed by Mr. Stewart; who remarks, with equal justice, that it was an after-thought. If, indeed, it had been a forethought, many other parts of the essay would never have been written, and all the parts of it would have been written in a very different manner. It is much better written than any of the other books; but even from this (the composition is so indifferent) it is scarcely possible to extract a perfect sentence-we mean not rhetorically but logically considered: as to extracting a good paragraph it is out of the question.

'In one of Locke's most noted remarks concerning the varieties of genius, or rather the difference between wit and judgment,' says Mr. Stewart, 'he has been anticipated by Malebranche, on whose clear yet concise statement he does not seem to have thrown much new light by his very diffuse and wordy commentary.' This remark concerning diffuseness and wordiness, as we observed of that about fanciful hypotheses by Warburton, is not the less true and forcible for coming from Mr. Stewart. Diffuseness and wordiness, or say wordiness and indistinctness, which are almost identical, are the besetting sin of all Locke's compositions. He is constantly laboring at it and about it, but seldom succeeds in expressing the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. The third book of the essay, by far the best of the whole in every view, as already remarked, is little more than a 'very diffuse and wordy commentary' on a few sentences of Bacon and a few paragraphs of Hobbes; the last of whom in particular expresses with such clearness and force the principle so much dilated and encumbered by Locke, and lays so much reiterated emphasis upon it, as to render it almost unaccountable that the author of the Essay concerning the Human Understanding should have been so long before he was aware of its importance, and that he should have turned it to so little account.

The noted remark referred to by Mr. Stewart, as a very diffuse and wordy commentary on a clear and concise statement of Malebranche, is in reality a deterioration of a statement given by Hobbes; though expressed by the commentator with a clearness, and brevity, and precision, which he very seldom equals. We will give the

son.

Let us now hear the epigrammatic Frenchman, who sacrifices nearly as much to conciseness as the prosing Englishman loses by diffusion.

'Il y a donc des esprits de deux sortes. Les uns remarquent aisément les différences des choses, et ce sont les bons esprits. Les autres imaginent et supposent de la ressemblance entr' elles, et ce sont les esprits superficiels.' Rech. de la Vérité. Liv. ii. Seconde Partie, chap. ix. There are two sorts of minds. The one remark easily the differences of things, and these are the good minds [or understandings]. The other imagine and conjecture their resemblance, and these are the superficial minds.

Let us now listen to one who spoke as few others have spoken.

Maximum et velut radicale discrimen ingeniorum, quoad philosophiam et scientias, illud est; quod alia ingenia sint fortiora et aptiora ad notandas rerum differentias; alia, ad notandas rerum similitudines. Ingenia enim constantia et acuta, figere contemplationes, et morari, et hærere in omni subtilitate differentiarum possunt. Ingenia autem sublimia, et discursiva, etiam tenuissimas et catholicas rerum similitudines, et cognoscunt et componunt. Utrumque autem ingenium facilè labitur in excessum, prensando aut gradus rerum, aut umbras.'

That strain I heard was of higher mood!' exclaims Mr. Stewart, with an enthusiastic delight in which we fully participate. It is the original strain which has been much sung and variously altered, often deteriorated, never improved. We are afraid of marring it, else we would do it into English for the sake of the common reader. But let us hear it from the philosopher of Malmsbury. Natural wit consists principally in two things; celerity of imagining (that is swift succession of one thought to another), and steady direction to some approved end. On the contrary, a slow imagination makes the defect or fault of the mind which is commonly called dul

This difference of quickness is caused by the difference of men's passions, who love and dislike, some one thing, some another; and therefore some men's thoughts run one way, some another, and are held to, and observe differently, the things that pass through their imagination. And as in this succession of men's thoughts there is nothing to observe in the things they think on, but either in what they are like one another, or in what they are unlike, or what they serve for, or how they serve to such a purpose; those that observe their similitudes, in case they be such as are but rarely observed by others, are said to have a good wit; by which is meant, in this connexion, a good fancy. But they that observe their differences, and dissimilitudes (which is called distinguishing, discerning, and judging), if such discerning be not easy, are said to have a good judgment. * * * The former, that is, fancy, without the help of judgment, is not commended as an excellence; but the latter, which is judgment, is commended by itself, without the help of fancy. Besides the discretion, or distinguishing, of times, places, and persons, necessary to a good fancy, there is required also a frequent application of his thoughts to their end; that is to say, to some use to be made of them. This done, he that has this excellence, will be easily fitted with similitudes, that will please not only by illustration of discourse, and adorning it with new and apt metaphors, but also by the rarity of their invention. But, without steadiness and direction to some end, ness; such as they have that, entering into any discourse, are snatched from their purpose by every thing that comes in thought, into so many, and so long digressions and parentheses, that they utterly lose themselves.' Leviathan, part I. chap. viii.

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great fancy is one kind of mad

This, too, is not a bad strain, and more worthy of ranking with that of Bacon than either the epigram of Malebranche, or the very diffuse and wordy commentary upon it' by Locke. But what we intended chiefly was to bring into comparison, or rather contrast, the mode of expressing thought, as presented in the writings of Locke, and the writings of those from whom he borrowed; and to show how deficient he is in the use of words, or language, as the instrument or medium of knowledge. There is hardly a noted remark in the whole Essay on the Human Understanding which may not be compared or contrasted with some passage or other of some preceding author, particularly Hobbes, from whom he borrowed more than from all other authors put together, though he hardly ever mentions the name of his benefactor except in a way of reproach. This was, perhaps, more from fear than from ingratitude, or from the desire of appropriating to himself the fame of others. In his reply to the bishop of Worcester he says, 'I am not so well read in Hobbes and Spinoza as to be able to say what were their opinions in this matter; but possibly there may be those who will think your lordship's authority of more use than justly decried names.'

3. A third cause of the defects of the Essay of Mr. Locke has been already indicated, a want of originality, that is, want of intellectual adaptation to his undertaking. There is a manifest lack of unity of design, and much inconsistency among the parts, because they were taken from very different minds; and because, when taken from one and the same mind, as for example from that of Hobbes, the commentator either did not understand his materials fully, or wished to work them up anew in a manner, and for a purpose, to which they were not suited; or to incorporate them with others wholly incongruous and heterogeneous. Take, for example, what he says about truth, at the opening of the fifth chapter of the fourth book. He adopts the statement of Hobbes, 'that truth properly belongs only to propositions;' but he instantly makes nonsense of it by adding, 'whereof there are two sorts, viz. mental and verbal; as there are two sorts of signs commonly made use of, viz. ideas and words.' What the author could intend to mean by ideas being commonly made use of as signs, it is impossible for us to conjecture. From such a hopeful beginning we have this edifying sequel. To form a clear notion of truth it is very necessary to consider truth of thought and truth of words distinctly one from another; but yet it is very difficult to treat of them asunder. Because it is unavoidable, in treating of mental propositions, to make use of words; and then the instances given of mental propositions cease immediately to be barely mental, and become verbal. For a mental proposition, being nothing but a bare consideration of the ideas as they are in our minds, stripped of names, they lose the nature of purely mental propositions as soon as they are put into words. And that which makes it yet harder to treat of mental and verbal propositions separately, is, that most men, if not all, in their thinkings and reasonings within themselves, make use of words instead of ideas; at least when the subject of their meditation contains in it complex ideas.'

Truly the case is not only hard, but desperate. What light or conduct of the understanding any man can find in statements like these we cannot divine; yet they are a fair specimen of very many of the statements contained in Mr. Locke's celebrated work. Such indistinctness, such confusion, or rather such absence of conceivable meaning, cannot possibly exist where a man has distinct thoughts in his mind, and writes only from his own understanding.

We might have remarked, under the former head, that it is not merely in putting words together that the author fails, which failure is generally connected with mental confusion, but in regard to single terms as signs of ideas, to use his own expression, he is almost habitually faulty. Take, for instance, his noted word idea, which is here, and there, and every where, throughout the essay. What can be more indefinite than this verbal Proteus? It seems to mean any thing, every thing, and nothing, by turns. And this, though a notable, is not a solitary example. There is hardly a word of much importance, and frequent recurrence, which is not applied in the same loose and careless manner. This of itself is a striking proof of want of adap

tation, or qualification, for metaphysical research and discussion. There was nothing, Hobbes said (in a passage already quoted), that he distrusted so much as his diction or expression; but, notwithstanding all Mr. Locke's sage remarks and remonstrances on the subject, there seems to have been nothing that he so little distrusted.

What then, it may be said, are the merits of Mr. Locke? - We are fully disposed to allow them to be great, though not precisely such as have been generally assigned. He was a sincere lover of truth, and a most determined enemy to error and scholastic pretension and imposition. His work, though not remarkable for originality, consistency, or any thing like a luminous and instructive exposition of the subjects on which it professedly treats, contains many judicious remarks, brought together from various quarters; and, though it might have been so written as to do much more, it has certainly done much in clearing away the rubbish of a false and deceitful philosophy, or rather of learned jargon. The third book, though very diffuse and wordy, is still calculated to be highly useful to young enquirers: and it is impossible almost to estimate the good which the first book (unquestionably the ablest) has effected in banishing the Platonic mysticism and absurdity of innate ideas; which, so late as the times of Descartes, Leibnitz, Cudworth, and even Price, maintained a hold of minds much above intellectual mediocrity. It is true, some harm may have been done by the same book, in leading such as Condillac, Hartley, and many others, to assign too much to the senses and too little to the mind itself; yet we think it does not merit the treatment it has received from Reid, Stewart, and others of the same school.

The last-named author is sometimes rather indignant at what he calls the sophistry, and represents as of dangerous tendency, in the first book of the Essay: at other times he is not only extremely candid, but even eulogial towards the work as a whole. The enquiries,' he remarks in the first and second books, ' which are of a much more abstract, as well as scholastic, nature, than the sequel of the work, probably opened gradually on the author's mind in proportion as he studied his subject with a closer and more continued attention. They relate chiefly to the origin and to the technical classification of our ideas frequently branching out into collateral, and sometimes into digressive, discussions, without much regard to method or connexion. The third book (by far the most important of the whole), where the nature, the use, and the abuse of language, are so clearly and happily illustrated, seems, from Locke's own account, to have been a sort of after-thought; and the two excellent chapters on the association of ideas, and on enthusiasm (the former of which has contributed as much as any thing else in Locke's writings, to the subsequent progress of metaphysical philosophy) were printed, for the first time, in the fourth edition of the Essay.'

Respecting what Locke named, not very happily, association of ideas, such as are more just and generous to the memory of Hobbes than Mr. Stewart, admit that he was the first, at least in modern times, to state the mental fact or principle so much philosophised upon since his time (to what important purpose we hardly know notwithstanding Mr. Stewart's high-sounding language about the progress of metaphysical philosophy), and that he stated it in a far more striking and philosophical manner than his commentator.

The following is language far more loftily panegyrical both towards Mr. Locke and metaphysics than the writer of this article could sincerely adopt. But,' says Mr. Stewart, although these considerations render the two first books inferior in point of general utility to the two last, they do not materially detract from their merit, as a precious accession to the theory of the human mind. On the contrary, I do not hesitate to consider them as the richest contribution, of well-observed and well-described facts, which was ever bequeathed to this branch of science by a single individual; and as the indisputable (though not always acknowledged) source of some of the most refined conclusions, with respect to the intellectual phenomena which have been since brought to light by succeeding inquirers.'

The following perhaps may be regarded as a beautiful specimen of what we have failed in towards Mr. Locke :

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'After the details given by Locke himself, of the circumstances in which his Essay was begun and completed, more especially after what he has stated of the discontinued way of writing, imposed on him by the avocations of a busy and unsettled life, it cannot be thought surprising, that so very little of method should appear in the disposition of his materials; or that the opinions which, on different occasions, he has pronounced on the same subject should not always seem perfectly steady and consistent. In these last cases, however, I am inclined to think that the inconsistencies, if duly reflected on, would be found rather apparent than real. It is but seldom that writer, possessed of the powerful and upright mind of Locke, can reasonably be suspected of stating propositions in direct contradiction to each other. The presumption is, that, in each of these propositions, there is a mixture of truth, and that the error lies chiefly in the unqualified manner in which the truth is stated; proper allowances not being made, during the fervour of composition, for the partial survey taken of the objects from a particular point of view. Perhaps it would not be going too far to assert, that most of the seeming contradictions which occur in authors animated with a severe love of truth, might be fairly accounted for by the different aspects which the same objects presented to them upon different occasions. In reading such authors accordingly, when we meet with discordant expressions, instead of indulging ourselves in the captiousness of verbal criticism, it would better become us carefully and candidly to collate the questionable passages; and to study so to reconcile them, by judicious modifications and corrections, as to render the oversights and mistakes of our illustrious guides subservient to the precision and soundness of our own conclusions. In the case of Locke it must be owned, that this is not always an easy task, as the limitations of some

of his most exceptionable propositions are to be collected, not from the context, but from different and widely separated parts of his essay.'

We leave our readers to judge of the soundness of the above criticism; but we thought it curious and worthy of insertion as a kind of contrast to our own; and we wished that Locke might have some chance of fair play with us.

In speaking of the celebrity which the Essay on the Understanding so soon acquired, the same writer adds very justly, something I suspect must be ascribed to the political importance which Mr. Locke had previously acquired as the champion of religious toleration, as the great apostle of the revolution, and as the intrepid opposer of a tyranny which had recently been overthrown.' No doubt all this did much for the work; and a high reputation once obtained is sure to remain unless put down by some powerful re-action of opinion. Another circumstance was the magnitude of the work; it seemed a complete body of metaphysics. A third favorable circumstance was the modesty and amicableness of the author; in this respect he was a complete contrast to his metaphysical master. But it is probable that the celebrity of the essay is owing chiefly to its indefinite character. It has been justly observed that most readers delight to repose in generalities.' The author so often quoted already, when speaking of Leibnitz, remarks with more than usual acuteness, 'the phraseology is so indeterminate, that it may be interpreted in various senses essentially different from each other. Whether this vagueness of language was the effect of artifice, or of real vagueness in the author's notions, may perhaps be doubted; but that it has contributed greatly to extend his reputation, among a very numerous class of readers, may be confidently asserted.'

As almost all sects, and parties, and persons in Britain have vied with one another in lauding Locke; so his fame has been great on the continent, particularly in France. According to Voltaire he is the Hercules of metaphysics, who has fixed the boundaries of the human understanding. Locke est l'Hercule de la metaphysique, qui a posé les bornes de l'esprit humain. This is sublime, but another passage of the same celebrated Voltaire is quite the marvellous. 'Locke alone has developed the human understanding in a work where there is nothing but truths, and what renders the work perfect all its truths are luminous. Locke seul a developpé l'entendement humain dans un livre où il n'y a que des vérites; et ce qui rend l'ouvrage parfait, toutes ces vérités sont claires.' Is there here any evidence that this smart Frenchman ever read the perfect work concerning the human understanding? Or need we wonder at the unmeasured praise of Locke after this?

Condillac is to be regarded as the French interpreter and commentator of Locke; and it is universally allowed that he has performed his task with great perspicuity and eloquence. But he has not given the whole of Locke and nothing but Locke; for he has so much transmuted the English doctrines about the human understanding, that it would be more proper to call them after Gassendi; and some French writers are now inclined to restore the long alienated fame of the true philosophy of the human mind to its rightful owner; as has already appeared by a quotation from Degerando. According to Condillac all our ideas, thoughts, mental operations, and emotions, are nothing but transformed sensations. What he means by transformation he has not defined. If we consider,' says he, 'that to remember, to compare, to judge, to distinguish, to imagine, be astonished, to have abstract ideas, to have ideas of number and duration, to know truths, whether general or particular, are but so many modes of being attentive; that to have passions, to love, to hate, to hope, to fear, to will, are but so many different modes of desire; and that attention in the one case, and desire in the other case, of which all these feelings are modes, are themselves, in their origin, nothing more than modes of sensation, we cannot but conclude that sensation involves in it all the faculties of the soul.'-Traité des Sensations, part I. chap. vii.

This is a very short and simple process no doubt. The soul and all its faculties are resolvable into the five senses, and there is an end of the matter. Locke allowed that there was something of a mind or soul to begin, with analogous to a sheet of white paper, and Hobbes thought it rather analogous to a slate. But according to Condillac there is nothing whatever beside or beyond, or distinct from the senses, or their agency, called sensation; all that is supposed to be distinct from this is nothing but itself transformed like a harlequin into another character when performing a different part. Whatever we may think of this doctrine, says Dr. Brown, Lecture 33, as true or false, ingenious or absurd, it seems, at least, scarcely possible that we should regard it as the doctrine of Locke -of him who sets out with a primary division of our ideas, into two distinct classes, one class of which alone belongs to sensation; and who considers even this class of our mere ideas, not as involving all the operations of the mind with respect to them, but only as the objects of the mind in these various operations, as being what we compare, not the very feelings of our comparison itself, the tinducements to passion, not what constitutes any of our passions, as a state, or series of states of the mind. To render the paragraph quoted from Condillac at all accordant with the real doctrine of Locke, it would be necessary to reverse it in almost every proposition which it involves.

We will not detain the reader longer with Condillac, who may be regarded, however, as standing at the head of the metaphysicians on the continent who consider themselves the disciples of the metaphysical Hercules of England. According to both Mr. Stewart and Dr. Brown they have all misunderstood their master's doctrine; whether this proves their dulness or perversity, or his unfathomable profundity, or dazzling brightness, the reader must judge for him

self.

HARTLEY.

Dr. Hartley is known, and was for a time, to some extent at least, admired as the author of a work entitled Observations on Man; in which

he propounded a very fanciful theory of vibration for the purpose of explaining the operations of the mind. Dr. Brown has expended some very unnecessary refutation on the vibrating theory in one of his lectures; especially as he states that it has now fallen into merited disrepute even with those who are inclined, in other respects, to hold in very high estimation the merits of Hartley as an intellectual analyst.' His followers, he continues, have generally been extravagant admirers of his philosophical genius, which I own seems to me to be very opposite to the genius of sound philosophy. That there is considerable acuteness, however, displayed in his work, and that it contains some successful analyses of complex feelings, I am far from de-. nying; and, as intellectual science consists so much in the analysis of the complex phenomena of thought, its influence in this respect has unquestionably been of service, in promoting that spirit of free enquiry, which, in a science that presents no attraction to the senses, is so easily laid asleep, or at least so readily acquiesces, as if to justify its indolence, in the authority of great names, and of all that is ancient in error and venerable in absurdity. But though the influence of his philosophy may have been of service in this respect, the advantage which has perhaps flowed from it in this way must have been inconsiderable compared with the great evil which has unquestionably flowed from it in another way, by leading the enquirer to acquiesce in remote analogies, and to adopt explanations and arrangements of the phenomena of mind, not as they agree with the actual phenomena, but as they chance to agree with some supposed phenomena of our material part.'

Dr. Hartley has given the same general account of the origin of ideas with Condillac; but so far from claiming the sanction of Locke's authority he points out the difference between his own opinion and that expressed by the author of the Essay on the Understanding. It may not be amiss (he remarks in the introduction to his work) here to take notice how far the theory of these papers has led me to differ in respect of logic from Mr. Locke's excellent Essay on the Human Understanding, to which the world is so much indebted for removing prejudices and incumbrances, and advancing real and useful knowledge. First, then, it appears to me, that all the most complex ideas arise from sensation, and that reflection is not a distinct source, as Mr. Locke makes it.'

The materialists and necessitarians have a sort of natural affection for Hartley; and Dr. Priestley speaks in very admiring strains of the author of the vibratory and vibratiuncle theory. Something was done,' (he says, remarks on Reid, Beattie and Oswald), 'in this field of knowledge by Descartes, very much by Mr. Locke, but most of all by Dr. Hartley, who has thrown more useful light on the theory of mind, than Newton did upon the theory of the natural world. 'What with one light and another that has been thrown upon the theory of mind, the northern lights beth Scottish and German, and the effulgent radiance of Locke, Condillac, and Hartley, we might have expected of course to be dark, as we are, through excess of brightness.