MAKING DISTINCTIONS AND OTHER MENTAL ACTIVITIES

1. No Knowledge without Discernment.

1. No knowledge without the ability to tell things apart.

Another faculty we may take notice of in our minds is that of DISCERNING and DISTINGUISHING between the several ideas it has. It is not enough to have a confused perception of something in general. Unless the mind had a distinct perception of different objects and their qualities, it would be capable of very little knowledge, though the bodies that affect us were as busy about us as they are now, and the mind were continually employed in thinking. On this faculty of distinguishing one thing from another depends the evidence and certainty of several, even very general, propositions, which have passed for innate truths;—because men, overlooking the true cause why those propositions find universal assent, impute it wholly to native uniform impressions; whereas it in truth depends upon this clear discerning faculty of the mind, whereby it PERCEIVES two ideas to be the same, or different. But of this more hereafter.

Another ability we can notice in our minds is DISCERNING and DISTINGUISHING among the mind’s various ideas. A vague awareness of something in general is not enough. Unless the mind could clearly perceive different objects and their qualities, the mind would be capable of very little knowledge. This would remain true even if physical objects affected us as actively as they do now, and we thought continually. Our ability to distinguish one thing from another makes several statements, even very general ones, clearly and certainly true. These statements have been taken as truths we are born knowing. People overlook the real reason everyone accepts these statements. Instead, people attribute this universal agreement entirely to identical impressions present in everyone’s mind from birth. In fact, this agreement depends on the mind’s ability to distinguish clearly, by which the mind PERCEIVES whether two ideas are the same or different. But I will say more about this later.

2. The Difference of Wit and Judgment.

2. The Difference Between Wit and Judgment.

How much the imperfection of accurately discriminating ideas one from another lies, either in the dulness or faults of the organs of sense; or want of acuteness, exercise, or attention in the understanding; or hastiness and precipitancy, natural to some tempers, I will not here examine: it suffices to take notice, that this is one of the operations that the mind may reflect on and observe in itself. It is of that consequence to its other knowledge, that so far as this faculty is in itself dull, or not rightly made use of, for the distinguishing one thing from another,—so far our notions are confused, and our reason and judgment disturbed or misled. If in having our ideas in the memory ready at hand consists quickness of parts; in this, of having them unconfused, and being able nicely to distinguish one thing from another, where there is but the least difference, consists, in a great measure, the exactness of judgment, and clearness of reason, which is to be observed in one man above another. And hence perhaps may be given some reason of that common observation,—that men who have a great deal of wit, and prompt memories, have not always the clearest judgment or deepest reason. For WIT lying most in the assemblage of ideas, and putting those together with quickness and variety, wherein can be found any resemblance or congruity, thereby to make up pleasant pictures and agreeable visions in the fancy; JUDGMENT, on the contrary, lies quite on the other side, in separating carefully, one from another, ideas wherein can be found the least difference, thereby to avoid being misled by similitude, and by affinity to take one thing for another. This is a way of proceeding quite contrary to metaphor and allusion; wherein for the most part lies that entertainment and pleasantry of wit, which strikes so lively on the fancy, and therefore is so acceptable to all people, because its beauty appears at first sight, and there is required no labour of thought to examine what truth or reason there is in it. The mind, without looking any further, rests satisfied with the agreeableness of the picture and the gaiety of the fancy. And it is a kind of affront to go about to examine it, by the severe rules of truth and good reason; whereby it appears that it consists in something that is not perfectly conformable to them.

I will not examine here how much our difficulty in distinguishing ideas accurately comes from different causes. These may include dull or faulty senses, or a lack of sharpness, practice, or attention in the understanding. They may also include the haste and rashness natural to some temperaments. It is enough to note that distinguishing ideas is one mental operation we can reflect on and observe in ourselves. This ability matters greatly to the rest of our knowledge. To the extent that it is weak or used poorly, our ideas become confused, and our reasoning and judgment suffer or go astray. If mental quickness consists in having ideas readily available in memory, sound judgment depends largely on keeping those ideas distinct. It also depends on distinguishing things even where there is only the slightest difference. These abilities largely account for the greater precision of judgment and clarity of reasoning found in one person over another. Perhaps this helps explain a common observation. People with great wit and ready memories do not always have the clearest judgment or the deepest reasoning. For WIT consists chiefly in bringing ideas together quickly and in varied ways wherever some resemblance or agreement appears. The purpose is to create pleasing pictures and delightful visions in the imagination. JUDGMENT, by contrast, works in the opposite direction. It carefully separates ideas wherever even the slightest difference appears. The purpose is to avoid being misled by resemblance and mistaking one thing for another because they are related. This process runs directly against metaphor and allusion, which provide most of wit's entertainment and pleasure. Such wit makes a vivid impression on the imagination and is therefore welcome to all people. Its beauty appears at first sight, requiring no effort to examine how much truth or reason it contains. Without looking further, the mind rests content with the pleasing picture and the liveliness of the imagination. Trying to examine wit by the strict standards of truth and sound reasoning is a kind of insult. Such examination reveals that wit consists in something that does not fully conform to those standards.

3. Clearness alone hinders Confusion.

3. Only clarity prevents confusion.

To the well distinguishing our ideas, it chiefly contributes that they be CLEAR and DETERMINATE. And when they are so, it will not breed any confusion or mistake about them, though the senses should (as sometimes they do) convey them from the same object differently on different occasions, and so seem to err. For, though a man in a fever should from sugar have a bitter taste, which at another time would produce a sweet one, yet the idea of bitter in that man’s mind would be as clear and distinct from the idea of sweet as if he had tasted only gall. Nor does it make any more confusion between the two ideas of sweet and bitter that the same sort of body produces at one time one, and at another time another idea by the taste, than it makes a confusion in two ideas of white and sweet, or white and round, that the same piece of sugar produces them both in the mind at the same time. And the ideas of orange-colour and azure, that are produced in the mind by the same parcel of the infusion of lignum nephritium, are no less distinct ideas than those of the same colours taken from two very different bodies.

What helps us most to distinguish our ideas is that the ideas are CLEAR and PRECISE. When ideas have these qualities, they cause no confusion or misunderstanding. The senses may sometimes give us different ideas from the same object on different occasions, and so seem mistaken. But even then, the ideas remain clear and precise. For example, sugar might taste bitter to a man with a fever, though at another time sugar would taste sweet. Yet his idea of bitter would remain just as clear and distinct from his idea of sweet. The distinction would be as clear as if he had tasted only gall. Nor does it confuse the ideas of sweet and bitter when the same substance produces each taste at different times. A single piece of sugar can likewise produce ideas of both white and sweet, or white and round, simultaneously. These ideas are no more confused by coming from the same piece of sugar. Similarly, the same portion of an infusion of lignum nephritium produces ideas of orange and azure in the mind. These ideas are just as distinct as ideas of the same colours produced by two very different substances.

4. Comparing.

4. Comparing.

The COMPARING them one with another, in respect of extent, degrees, time, place, or any other circumstances, is another operation of the mind about its ideas, and is that upon which depends all that large tribe of ideas comprehended under RELATION; which, of how vast an extent it is, I shall have occasion to consider hereafter.

COMPARING ideas with one another is another way the mind works with its ideas. The mind compares their extent, degree, time, place, or any other circumstances. All the many ideas included under RELATION depend on this comparison. I will later consider how vast the range of these ideas is.

5. Brutes compare but imperfectly.

5. Animals make comparisons, but only imperfectly.

How far brutes partake in this faculty, is not easy to determine. I imagine they have it not in any great degree, for, though they probably have several ideas distinct enough, yet it seems to me to be the prerogative of human understanding, when it has sufficiently distinguished any ideas, so as to perceive them to be perfectly different, and so consequently two, to cast about and consider in what circumstances they are capable to be compared. And therefore, I think, beasts compare not their ideas further than some sensible circumstances annexed to the objects themselves. The other power of comparing, which may be observed in men, belonging to general ideas, and useful only to abstract reasonings, we may probably conjecture beasts have not.

It is hard to determine how much animals share this ability to compare ideas. I imagine they have little of it, although they probably have several fairly distinct ideas. It seems to me that a particular ability belongs only to human understanding. Once we distinguish ideas clearly enough to recognize them as entirely different, and therefore as two, we can look further. We can consider in what respects those ideas can be compared. So I think animals compare their ideas only in terms of sensory features attached to the objects themselves. Humans also have another power of comparison, concerned with general ideas and useful only for abstract reasoning. We may reasonably suppose that animals lack this power.

6. Compounding.

6. Combining.

The next operation we may observe in the mind about its ideas is COMPOSITION; whereby it puts together several of those simple ones it has received from sensation and reflection, and combines them into complex ones. Under this of composition may be reckoned also that of ENLARGING, wherein, though the composition does not so much appear as in more complex ones, yet it is nevertheless a putting several ideas together, though of the same kind. Thus, by adding several units together, we make the idea of a dozen; and putting together the repeated ideas of several perches, we frame that of a furlong.

The next operation we may observe in the mind’s handling of ideas is COMPOSITION. Through composition, the mind combines simple ideas received from sensation and reflection into complex ideas. Composition may also include ENLARGING, which brings together several ideas of the same kind. Although this combining is less obvious than in more complex ideas, it is still a joining of several ideas. Thus, by adding several units together, we form the idea of a dozen. By repeatedly adding the idea of a perch, a unit of distance, we form the idea of a furlong.

7. Brutes compound but little.

7. Animals combine ideas only to a limited extent.

In this also, I suppose, brutes come far short of man. For, though they take in, and retain together, several combinations of simple ideas, as possibly the shape, smell, and voice of his master make up the complex idea a dog has of him, or rather are so many distinct marks whereby he knows him; yet I do not think they do of themselves ever compound them, and make complex ideas. And perhaps even where we think they have complex ideas, it is only one simple one that directs them in the knowledge of several things, which possibly they distinguish less by their sight than we imagine. For I have been credibly informed that a bitch will nurse, play with, and be fond of young foxes, as much as, and in place of her puppies, if you can but get them once to suck her so long that her milk may go through them. And those animals which have a numerous brood of young ones at once, appear not to have any knowledge of their number; for though they are mightily concerned for any of their young that are taken from them whilst they are in sight or hearing, yet if one or two of them be stolen from them in their absence, or without noise, they appear not to miss them, or to have any sense that their number is lessened.

In this respect too, I suppose, animals fall far short of humans. Animals do take in and retain various combinations of simple ideas. For example, a master’s shape, smell, and voice may make up a dog’s complex idea of him. Or rather, these may be separate signs by which the dog recognizes his master. Yet I do not think animals ever combine simple ideas on their own to form complex ideas. And perhaps, even when we think animals have complex ideas, only one simple idea guides their recognition of different things. Animals may distinguish these things less by sight than we imagine. For I have been reliably told that a female dog will nurse, play with, and love young foxes. She will treat them as affectionately as her own puppies, and in their place. But first, you must get the foxes to nurse long enough for her milk to pass through their bodies. And animals that have many young at once seem unaware of how many they have. Such animals show great distress when any of their young are taken away within their sight or hearing. Yet suppose one or two young are stolen while the parents are absent, or without any noise. The parents seem neither to miss the young nor to notice that their number has decreased.

8. Naming.

8. Naming.

When children have, by repeated sensations, got ideas fixed in their memories, they begin by degrees to learn the use of signs. And when they have got the skill to apply the organs of speech to the framing of articulate sounds, they begin to make use of words, to signify their ideas to others. These verbal signs they sometimes borrow from others, and sometimes make themselves, as one may observe among the new and unusual names children often give to things in the first use of language.

Once repeated sensations have fixed ideas in children’s memories, children gradually begin to learn how to use signs. And once children learn to use their vocal organs to form clear speech sounds, they begin using words. They use these words to communicate their ideas to others. Children sometimes borrow these spoken signs from others and sometimes invent their own. We can observe this in the new and unusual names children often give things when first learning to speak.

9. Abstraction.

9. Abstraction.

The use of words then being to stand as outward mark of our internal ideas, and those ideas being taken from particular things, if every particular idea that we take up should have a distinct name, names must be endless. To prevent this, the mind makes the particular ideas received from particular objects to become general; which is done by considering them as they are in the mind such appearances,—separate from all other existences, and the circumstances of real existence, as time, place, or any other concomitant ideas. This is called ABSTRACTION, whereby ideas taken from particular beings become general representatives of all of the same kind; and their names general names, applicable to whatever exists conformable to such abstract ideas. Such precise, naked appearances in the mind, without considering how, whence, or with what others they came there, the understanding lays up (with names commonly annexed to them) as the standards to rank real existences into sorts, as they agree with these patterns, and to denominate them accordingly. Thus the same colour being observed to-day in chalk or snow, which the mind yesterday received from milk, it considers that appearance alone, makes it a representative of all of that kind; and having given it the name WHITENESS, it by that sound signifies the same quality wheresoever to be imagined or met with; and thus universals, whether ideas or terms, are made.

Words serve as outward signs of our internal ideas, and those ideas come from particular things. If every particular idea we formed had a separate name, there would be no end to names. To prevent this, the mind turns particular ideas received from particular objects into general ideas. The mind does this by considering these ideas simply as appearances in the mind, separate from everything else that exists. It also sets aside the circumstances of their actual existence, such as time, place, or any accompanying ideas. This process is called ABSTRACTION. Through abstraction, ideas drawn from particular beings become general representations of all beings of the same kind. Their names become general names, applicable to anything that matches these abstract ideas. The understanding stores these precise, bare appearances in the mind, usually with names attached. It does not consider how these appearances arrived, where they came from, or what other ideas accompanied them. Instead, the understanding uses these appearances as standards for sorting real things into kinds. Things are grouped and named according to how they match these patterns. For example, the mind notices today in chalk or snow the same colour it received yesterday from milk. The mind considers that appearance alone and makes the appearance represent all examples of the same kind. It gives the appearance the name WHITENESS. By that sound, the mind signifies the same quality wherever that quality may be imagined or found. This is how universals, whether ideas or terms, are made.

10. Brutes abstract not.

10. Animals do not form abstract ideas.

If it may be doubted whether beasts compound and enlarge their ideas that way to any degree; this, I think, I may be positive in,—that the power of abstracting is not at all in them; and that the having of general ideas is that which puts a perfect distinction betwixt man and brutes, and is an excellency which the faculties of brutes do by no means attain to. For it is evident we observe no footsteps in them of making use of general signs for universal ideas; from which we have reason to imagine that they have not the faculty of abstracting, or making general ideas, since they have no use of words, or any other general signs.

There may be doubt about whether animals combine and expand their ideas in that way to any degree. But I think I can be certain that animals have no power at all to form abstract ideas. The ability to have general ideas makes a complete distinction between humans and animals. This ability is a superior capacity that animals cannot attain at all. For we clearly see no sign that animals use general signs to represent universal ideas. We therefore have reason to think animals cannot form abstract or general ideas, since animals use neither words nor any other general signs.

11. Brutes abstract not, yet are not bare machines.

11. Animals do not form abstract ideas, but they are not mere machines.

Nor can it be imputed to their want of fit organs to frame articulate sounds, that they have no use or knowledge of general words; since many of them, we find, can fashion such sounds, and pronounce words distinctly enough, but never with any such application. And, on the other side, men who, through some defect in the organs, want words, yet fail not to express their universal ideas by signs, which serve them instead of general words, a faculty which we see beasts come short in. And, therefore, I think, we may suppose, that it is in this that the species of brutes are discriminated from man: and it is that proper difference wherein they are wholly separated, and which at last widens to so vast a distance. For if they have any ideas at all, and are not bare machines, (as some would have them,) we cannot deny them to have some reason. It seems as evident to me, that they do reason, as that they have sense; but it is only in particular ideas, just as they received them from their senses. They are the best of them tied up within those narrow bounds, and have not (as I think) the faculty to enlarge them by any kind of abstraction.

Nor can animals’ lack of use or understanding of general words be blamed on unsuitable organs for producing speech. We find that many animals can make speech sounds and pronounce words clearly enough, but never use words in this general way. On the other hand, people unable to speak because of a physical defect still express general ideas through signs. These signs take the place of general words, a capacity we do not see in animals. So I think we may suppose that this capacity distinguishes humans from other animals. This is the defining difference that separates them completely and ultimately creates so vast a distance between them. For if animals have any ideas at all, and are not mere machines, we cannot deny them some reasoning ability. Some people do regard animals as mere machines. To me, it seems as clear that animals reason as that they perceive through their senses. But animals reason only about particular ideas, just as they receive those ideas through their senses. Even the most capable animals remain confined within those narrow limits. They cannot, I think, extend those limits through any kind of abstraction.

12. Idiots and Madmen.

12. People with Intellectual Disabilities and People with Mental Illness.

How far idiots are concerned in the want or weakness of any, or all of the foregoing faculties, an exact observation of their several ways of faultering would no doubt discover. For those who either perceive but dully, or retain the ideas that come into their minds but ill, who cannot readily excite or compound them, will have little matter to think on. Those who cannot distinguish, compare, and abstract, would hardly be able to understand and make use of language, or judge or reason to any tolerable degree; but only a little and imperfectly about things present, and very familiar to their senses. And indeed any of the forementioned faculties, if wanting, or out of order, produce suitable defects in men’s understandings and knowledge.

Careful observation of how people with intellectual disabilities struggle would no doubt reveal which of these mental abilities are missing or weak. Such observation would also reveal how far these difficulties extend to any or all of those abilities. People who perceive things dimly or poorly remember the ideas entering their minds will have little to think about. The same is true of people who cannot readily bring ideas to mind or combine them. People who cannot distinguish, compare, and form abstract ideas would hardly be able to understand and use language. Nor would they be able to judge or reason to any adequate degree. They could do so only slightly and imperfectly, about things immediately present and very familiar to their senses. Indeed, if any of these mental abilities are missing or impaired, corresponding weaknesses result in people's understanding and knowledge.

13. Difference between Idiots and Madmen.

13. The difference between people with intellectual disabilities and people with mental illness.

In fine, the defect in naturals seems to proceed from want of quickness, activity, and motion in the intellectual faculties, whereby they are deprived of reason; whereas madmen, on the other side, seem to suffer by the other extreme. For they do not appear to me to have lost the faculty of reasoning, but having joined together some ideas very wrongly, they mistake them for truths; and they err as men do that argue right from wrong principles. For, by the violence of their imaginations, having taken their fancies for realities, they make right deductions from them. Thus you shall find a distracted man fancying himself a king, with a right inference require suitable attendance, respect, and obedience: others who have thought themselves made of glass, have used the caution necessary to preserve such brittle bodies. Hence it comes to pass that a man who is very sober, and of a right understanding in all other things, may in one particular be as frantic as any in Bedlam; if either by any sudden very strong impression, or long fixing his fancy upon one sort of thoughts, incoherent ideas have been cemented together so powerfully, as to remain united. But there are degrees of madness, as of folly; the disorderly jumbling ideas together is in some more, and some less. In short, herein seems to lie the difference between idiots and madmen: that madmen put wrong ideas together, and so make wrong propositions, but argue and reason right from them; but idiots make very few or no propositions, and reason scarce at all.

In short, people with intellectual disabilities seem to lack speed, activity, and movement in their mental faculties. This lack leaves them without reason. People with mental illness, on the other hand, seem to suffer from the opposite extreme. They do not seem to me to have lost the ability to reason. Instead, they have linked some ideas together very wrongly and mistaken those ideas for truths. They make the same errors as people who reason correctly from false principles. Their powerful imaginations lead them to take their fantasies for realities, and they draw correct conclusions from those fantasies. Thus, someone who imagines himself a king will logically demand the service, respect, and obedience due to a king. Others who have thought themselves made of glass have taken the precautions needed to protect such fragile bodies. This explains how someone sensible and clear-thinking in every other matter may be as disturbed about one thing as anyone in Bedlam. This may happen if a sudden, very powerful impression binds unrelated ideas firmly together. It may also happen if someone dwells so long on one kind of thought that unrelated ideas become firmly linked. In either case, the ideas become so tightly joined that they remain connected. But there are degrees of mental illness, just as there are degrees of foolishness. Some people jumble ideas together more than others. In short, the difference between people with intellectual disabilities and people with mental illness seems to be this: People with mental illness combine ideas wrongly and so form false statements, but reason correctly from those statements. People with intellectual disabilities, however, form very few statements or none at all, and hardly reason at all.

14. Method followed in this explication of Faculties.

14. Method used in this explanation of mental abilities.

These, I think, are the first faculties and operations of the mind, which it makes use of in understanding; and though they are exercised about all its ideas in general, yet the instances I have hitherto given have been chiefly in simple ideas. And I have subjoined the explication of these faculties of the mind to that of simple ideas, before I come to what I have to say concerning complex ones, for these following reasons:—

These, I think, are the mind’s first abilities and operations, used in understanding. Although the mind uses these abilities with all its ideas, my examples so far have mainly involved simple ideas. I have placed my explanation of these mental abilities after my explanation of simple ideas, before turning to complex ones. I have done so for the following reasons:

First, Because several of these faculties being exercised at first principally about simple ideas, we might, by following nature in its ordinary method, trace and discover them, in their rise, progress, and gradual improvements.

First, several of these mental abilities are initially used mainly to deal with simple ideas. Because of this, by following nature’s usual course, we might trace how these abilities emerge, develop, and gradually improve.

Secondly, Because observing the faculties of the mind, how they operate about simple ideas,—which are usually, in most men’s minds, much more clear, precise, and distinct than complex ones,—we may the better examine and learn how the mind extracts, denominates, compares, and exercises, in its other operations about those which are complex, wherein we are much more liable to mistake. Thirdly, Because these very operations of the mind about ideas received from sensations, are themselves, when reflected on, another set of ideas, derived from that other source of our knowledge, which I call reflection; and therefore fit to be considered in this place after the simple ideas of sensation. Of compounding, comparing, abstracting, &c., I have but just spoken, having occasion to treat of them more at large in other places.

Secondly, because observing how the mind’s faculties work with simple ideas may help us better understand its other operations. In most people’s minds, simple ideas are usually much clearer, more precise, and more distinct than complex ideas. By studying simple ideas, we may better examine how the mind abstracts, names, compares, and otherwise works with complex ideas. We are much more likely to make mistakes when dealing with complex ideas. Thirdly, because the mind’s operations on ideas received through sensation themselves become another set of ideas when we reflect on them. These ideas come from the other source of our knowledge, which I call reflection. They therefore belong here, after the simple ideas of sensation. I have only briefly discussed combining, comparing, abstracting, and similar operations, because I will discuss them more fully elsewhere.

15. The true Beginning of Human Knowledge.

15. The true starting point of human knowledge.

And thus I have given a short, and, I think, true HISTORY OF THE FIRST BEGINNINGS OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE;—whence the mind has its first objects; and by what steps it makes its progress to the laying in and storing up those ideas, out of which is to be framed all the knowledge it is capable of: wherein I must appeal to experience and observation whether I am in the right: the best way to come to truth being to examine things as really they are, and not to conclude they are, as we fancy of ourselves, or have been taught by others to imagine.

I have thus given a brief and, I think, true HISTORY OF THE FIRST BEGINNINGS OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. I have explained where the mind gets the first things it considers. I have also traced the steps by which the mind gathers and stores ideas. From these ideas, all the knowledge the mind is capable of must be formed. I must appeal to experience and observation to judge whether I am right. For the best way to reach truth is to examine things as they really are. We should not conclude that things are as we imagine them ourselves, or as others have taught us to imagine them.

16. Appeal to Experience.

16. Using Experience as Evidence.

To deal truly, this is the only way that I can discover, whereby the IDEAS OF THINGS are brought into the understanding. If other men have either innate ideas or infused principles, they have reason to enjoy them; and if they are sure of it, it is impossible for others to deny them the privilege that they have above their neighbours. I can speak but of what I find in myself, and is agreeable to those notions, which, if we will examine the whole course of men in their several ages, countries, and educations, seem to depend on those foundations which I have laid, and to correspond with this method in all the parts and degrees thereof.

To be honest, this is the only way I can discover that IDEAS OF THINGS enter the understanding. If others have inborn ideas or principles instilled directly in them, they have reason to enjoy them. And if they are sure they have these gifts, no one can deny them this advantage over their neighbors. I can speak only of what I find in myself and what agrees with the ideas people hold. Consider the full range of human life across different ages, countries, and kinds of education. These ideas seem to rest on the foundations I have laid out. They also seem to follow this process in all its parts and stages.

17. Dark Room.

17. Dark Room.

I pretend not to teach, but to inquire; and therefore cannot but confess here again,—that external and internal sensation are the only passages I can find of knowledge to the understanding. These alone, as far as I can discover, are the windows by which light is let into this DARK ROOM. For, methinks, the understanding is not much unlike a closet wholly shut from light, with only some little openings left, to let in external visible resemblances, or ideas of things without: which, would they but stay there, and lie so orderly as to be found upon occasion, it would very much resemble the understanding of a man, in reference to all objects of sight, and the ideas of them.

I do not claim to teach, but to inquire. So I must admit again that external and internal sensation are the only routes I can find into the understanding. As far as I can discover, these alone are the windows that let light into this DARK ROOM. For the understanding seems to me much like a room otherwise shut off from light, with only a few small openings. These openings let in visible images, or ideas, of things outside. If only these images would stay there, arranged so they could be found when needed, the resemblance would be close. Such a room would closely resemble human understanding in relation to all visible objects and our ideas of them.

These are my guesses concerning the means whereby the understanding comes to have and retain simple ideas, and the modes of them, with some other operations about them.

These are my guesses about how the mind acquires and retains simple ideas and their modes. My guesses also cover some other ways the mind works with these ideas.

I proceed now to examine some of these simple ideas and their modes a little more particularly.

I will now examine some of these simple ideas and their modes in a little more detail.