On Mr. Locke

Perhaps no man ever had a more judicious or more methodical genius, or was a more acute logician than Mr. Locke, and yet he was not deeply skilled in the mathematics. This great man could never subject himself to the tedious fatigue of calculations, nor to the dry pursuit of mathematical truths, which do not at first present any sensible objects to the mind; and no one has given better proofs than he, that it is possible for a man to have a geometrical head without the assistance of geometry. Before his time, several great philosophers had declared, in the most positive terms, what the soul of man is; but as these absolutely knew nothing about it, they might very well be allowed to differ entirely in opinion from one another.

Perhaps no one ever had a sounder or more methodical mind, or reasoned more sharply, than Mr. Locke. Yet he had no deep knowledge of mathematics. This great man could never bring himself to endure tedious calculations or the dry pursuit of mathematical truths. Such truths do not at first bring anything the senses can grasp to mind. And no one has shown better than Locke that a person can think geometrically without the help of geometry. Before his time, several great philosophers had declared with complete certainty what the human soul is. But since these philosophers knew absolutely nothing about the soul, they could surely be allowed to disagree completely.

In Greece, the infant seat of arts and of errors, and where the grandeur as well as folly of the human mind went such prodigious lengths, the people used to reason about the soul in the very same manner as we do.

Greece was the cradle of the arts and of errors. There, the human mind reached extraordinary heights of both greatness and folly. The people reasoned about the soul in exactly the same way we do.

The divine Anaxagoras, in whose honour an altar was erected for his having taught mankind that the sun was greater than Peloponnesus, that snow was black, and that the heavens were of stone, affirmed that the soul was an aërial spirit, but at the same time immortal. Diogenes (not he who was a cynical philosopher after having coined base money) declared that the soul was a portion of the substance of God: an idea which we must confess was very sublime. Epicurus maintained that it was composed of parts in the same manner as the body.

The divine Anaxagoras had an altar built in his honor for teaching humanity that the sun was larger than Peloponnesus. He also taught that snow was black and that the heavens were made of stone. Anaxagoras claimed that the soul was a spirit made of air, but was also immortal. Diogenes declared that the soul was part of God's substance. This was not the Diogenes who became a Cynic philosopher after making counterfeit coins. The idea that the soul was part of God's substance was, we must admit, very sublime. Epicurus maintained that the soul was made up of parts, just like the body.

Aristotle, who has been explained a thousand ways, because he is unintelligible, was of opinion, according to some of his disciples, that the understanding in all men is one and the same substance.

Aristotle has been interpreted a thousand ways because he is impossible to understand. Some of his followers say he believed the intellect in all people is one and the same substance.

The divine Plato, master of the divine Aristotle,—and the divine Socrates, master of the divine Plato—used to say that the soul was corporeal and eternal. No doubt but the demon of Socrates had instructed him in the nature of it. Some people, indeed, pretend that a man who boasted his being attended by a familiar genius must infallibly be either a knave or a madman, but this kind of people are seldom satisfied with anything but reason.

The divine Plato taught the divine Aristotle, and the divine Socrates taught the divine Plato. Both Plato and Socrates used to say that the soul was physical and eternal. No doubt Socrates’ guiding spirit had taught him about the soul’s nature. Some people, indeed, claim that a man who boasted of having a spirit companion must be either a fraud or a madman. But people like these are seldom satisfied with anything but reason.

With regard to the Fathers of the Church, several in the primitive ages believed that the soul was human, and the angels and God corporeal. Men naturally improve upon every system. St. Bernard, as Father Mabillon confesses, taught that the soul after death does not see God in the celestial regions, but converses with Christ’s human nature only. However, he was not believed this time on his bare word; the adventure of the crusade having a little sunk the credit of his oracles. Afterwards a thousand schoolmen arose, such as the Irrefragable Doctor, the Subtile Doctor, the Angelic Doctor, the Seraphic Doctor, and the Cherubic Doctor, who were all sure that they had a very clear and distinct idea of the soul, and yet wrote in such a manner, that one would conclude they were resolved no one should understand a word in their writings. Our Descartes, born to discover the errors of antiquity, and at the same time to substitute his own, and hurried away by that systematic spirit which throws a cloud over the minds of the greatest men, thought he had demonstrated that the soul is the same thing as thought, in the same manner as matter, in his opinion, is the same as extension. He asserted, that man thinks eternally, and that the soul, at its coming into the body, is informed with the whole series of metaphysical notions: knowing God, infinite space, possessing all abstract ideas—in a word, completely endued with the most sublime lights, which it unhappily forgets at its issuing from the womb.

Several early Fathers of the Church believed that the soul was human, and that angels and God had bodies. People naturally improve on every system. As Father Mabillon admits, St. Bernard taught that after death the soul does not see God in heaven. Instead, the soul speaks only with Christ’s human nature. This time, however, people did not simply take St. Bernard’s word for it. The crusade adventure had somewhat damaged his reputation as an oracle. Afterwards, a thousand schoolmen appeared, including the Irrefragable Doctor, the Subtile Doctor, the Angelic Doctor, the Seraphic Doctor, and the Cherubic Doctor. All were certain they had a very clear and distinct idea of the soul. Yet their writing would lead anyone to conclude that they were determined no one should understand a word of it. Our Descartes was born to discover the errors of antiquity and, at the same time, replace them with his own. He was carried away by the passion for systems that clouds even the greatest minds. He thought he had proved that the soul was the same thing as thought. In just the same way, he believed matter was the same thing as extension in space. He claimed that human beings think eternally. He also claimed that when the soul enters the body, the soul comes equipped with every metaphysical concept. The soul knows God and infinite space, and possesses all abstract ideas. In short, the soul is fully endowed with the most sublime knowledge, but unfortunately forgets everything upon leaving the womb.

Father Malebranche, in his sublime illusions, not only admitted innate ideas, but did not doubt of our living wholly in God, and that God is, as it were, our soul.

Father Malebranche, in his sublime illusions, not only accepted innate ideas. He also had no doubt that we live entirely in God and that God is, in a sense, our soul.

Such a multitude of reasoners having written the romance of the soul, a sage at last arose, who gave, with an air of the greatest modesty, the history of it. Mr. Locke has displayed the human soul in the same manner as an excellent anatomist explains the springs of the human body. He everywhere takes the light of physics for his guide. He sometimes presumes to speak affirmatively, but then he presumes also to doubt. Instead of concluding at once what we know not, he examines gradually what we would know. He takes an infant at the instant of his birth; he traces, step by step, the progress of his understanding; examines what things he has in common with beasts, and what he possesses above them. Above all, he consults himself: the being conscious that he himself thinks.

After so many thinkers had written fictional accounts of the soul, a wise man finally appeared. With an air of the greatest modesty, he gave an account of the soul as it really is. Mr. Locke has revealed the human soul just as an excellent anatomist explains how the human body works. Throughout, he takes the light of physical science as his guide. He sometimes dares to speak with certainty, but he also dares to doubt. Instead of jumping to conclusions about what we do not know, he gradually examines what we want to know. He begins with an infant at the moment of birth and follows the child's understanding as it develops, step by step. He examines what the child shares with animals and what the child possesses beyond them. Above all, he looks within himself, conscious that he himself thinks.

“I shall leave,” says he, “to those who know more of this matter than myself, the examining whether the soul exists before or after the organisation of our bodies. But I confess that it is my lot to be animated with one of those heavy souls which do not think always; and I am even so unhappy as not to conceive that it is more necessary the soul should think perpetually than that bodies should be for ever in motion.”

“I will leave,” he says, “the question of whether the soul exists before or after our bodies form to those who know more than I do. But I admit that I happen to have one of those sluggish souls that do not think all the time. And I am even so unfortunate that I cannot see why the soul must always think, any more than bodies must always move.”

With regard to myself, I shall boast that I have the honour to be as stupid in this particular as Mr. Locke. No one shall ever make me believe that I think always: and I am as little inclined as he could be to fancy that some weeks after I was conceived I was a very learned soul; knowing at that time a thousand things which I forgot at my birth; and possessing when in the womb (though to no manner of purpose) knowledge which I lost the instant I had occasion for it; and which I have never since been able to recover perfectly.

For my part, I will boast that I have the honor of being as stupid on this point as Mr. Locke. No one will ever make me believe that I am always thinking. And I am just as unwilling as he was to imagine myself a very learned soul a few weeks after conception. I supposedly knew a thousand things then that I forgot at birth. In the womb, I supposedly possessed knowledge, though it was of no use there. I lost that knowledge the moment I needed it, and I have never since been able to recover it fully.

Mr. Locke, after having destroyed innate ideas; after having fully renounced the vanity of believing that we think always; after having laid down, from the most solid principles, that ideas enter the mind through the senses; having examined our simple and complex ideas; having traced the human mind through its several operations; having shown that all the languages in the world are imperfect, and the great abuse that is made of words every moment, he at last comes to consider the extent or rather the narrow limits of human knowledge. It was in this chapter he presumed to advance, but very modestly, the following words: “We shall, perhaps, never be capable of knowing whether a being, purely material, thinks or not.” This sage assertion was, by more divines than one, looked upon as a scandalous declaration that the soul is material and mortal. Some Englishmen, devout after their way, sounded an alarm. The superstitious are the same in society as cowards in an army; they themselves are seized with a panic fear, and communicate it to others. It was loudly exclaimed that Mr. Locke intended to destroy religion; nevertheless, religion had nothing to do in the affair, it being a question purely philosophical, altogether independent of faith and revelation. Mr. Locke’s opponents needed but to examine, calmly and impartially, whether the declaring that matter can think, implies a contradiction; and whether God is able to communicate thought to matter. But divines are too apt to begin their declarations with saying that God is offended when people differ from them in opinion; in which they too much resemble the bad poets, who used to declare publicly that Boileau spake irreverently of Louis XIV., because he ridiculed their stupid productions. Bishop Stillingfleet got the reputation of a calm and unprejudiced divine because he did not expressly make use of injurious terms in his dispute with Mr. Locke. That divine entered the lists against him, but was defeated; for he argued as a schoolman, and Locke as a philosopher, who was perfectly acquainted with the strong as well as the weak side of the human mind, and who fought with weapons whose temper he knew. If I might presume to give my opinion on so delicate a subject after Mr. Locke, I would say, that men have long disputed on the nature and the immortality of the soul. With regard to its immortality, it is impossible to give a demonstration of it, since its nature is still the subject of controversy; which, however, must be thoroughly understood before a person can be able to determine whether it be immortal or not. Human reason is so little able, merely by its own strength, to demonstrate the immortality of the soul, that it was absolutely necessary religion should reveal it to us. It is of advantage to society in general, that mankind should believe the soul to be immortal; faith commands us to do this; nothing more is required, and the matter is cleared up at once. But it is otherwise with respect to its nature; it is of little importance to religion, which only requires the soul to be virtuous, whatever substance it may be made of. It is a clock which is given us to regulate, but the artist has not told us of what materials the spring of this chock is composed.

Mr. Locke had demolished the theory of innate ideas. He had completely rejected the vain belief that we are always thinking. He had established, on the firmest principles, that ideas enter the mind through the senses. He had examined our simple and complex ideas and followed the human mind through its various operations. He had shown that all the world’s languages are imperfect and that words are constantly misused. Finally, he considered the extent, or rather the narrow limits, of human knowledge. In this chapter, he ventured, very modestly, to say: “We shall perhaps never be able to know whether a purely material being can think.” More than one theologian treated this wise statement as a scandalous declaration that the soul is material and mortal. Some Englishmen, devout in their own way, raised the alarm. Superstitious people are like cowards in an army. They panic themselves and spread their fear to others. People loudly declared that Mr. Locke meant to destroy religion. Yet religion had nothing to do with the matter. The question was purely philosophical, entirely independent of faith and revelation. Mr. Locke’s opponents only needed to examine two questions calmly and impartially. Does saying that matter can think involve a contradiction? And can God give matter the power of thought? But theologians too often begin by declaring that God is offended when people disagree with them. In this, they closely resemble bad poets. Those poets publicly accused Boileau of speaking disrespectfully of Louis XIV. because he ridiculed their foolish writings. Bishop Stillingfleet gained a reputation as a calm, impartial theologian because he did not openly use insulting language against Mr. Locke. The bishop entered the contest against Locke, but lost. He argued like a scholastic theologian, while Locke argued like a philosopher. Locke understood both the strengths and weaknesses of the human mind perfectly. He fought with weapons whose strength he knew. If I may venture an opinion on so delicate a subject after Mr. Locke, I would say the following. People have long debated the soul’s nature and immortality. Its immortality cannot be proved, since its nature remains disputed. Yet we must fully understand the soul’s nature before we can determine whether the soul is immortal. Human reason alone is so unable to prove the soul’s immortality that religion absolutely had to reveal it to us. Society as a whole benefits when people believe the soul is immortal. Faith commands us to believe this. Nothing more is required, and the matter is settled at once. But the soul’s nature is another matter. Its nature matters little to religion, which requires only that the soul be virtuous, whatever substance the soul consists of. The soul is a clock we have been given to regulate. But its maker has not told us what materials the clock’s spring is made of.

I am a body, and, I think, that’s all I know of the matter. Shall I ascribe to an unknown cause, what I can so easily impute to the only second cause I am acquainted with? Here all the school philosophers interrupt me with their arguments, and declare that there is only extension and solidity in bodies, and that there they can have nothing but motion and figure. Now motion, figure, extension and solidity cannot form a thought, and consequently the soul cannot be matter. All this so often repeated mighty series of reasoning, amounts to no more than this: I am absolutely ignorant what matter is; I guess, but imperfectly, some properties of it; now I absolutely cannot tell whether these properties may be joined to thought. As I therefore know nothing, I maintain positively that matter cannot think. In this manner do the schools reason.

I am a body, and I think. That is all I know about the matter. Why attribute thought to an unknown cause when I can so easily attribute it to the only secondary cause I know? Here all the scholastic philosophers interrupt me with their arguments. They declare that bodies have only extension and solidity, and can have nothing but motion and shape. Now motion, shape, extension, and solidity cannot produce a thought. So the soul cannot be matter. This grand chain of reasoning, repeated so often, amounts to no more than this: I know absolutely nothing about what matter is. I have only an imperfect idea of some of its properties. Now I cannot possibly say whether these properties may be combined with thought. Since I therefore know nothing, I insist that matter cannot think. That is how the scholastic philosophers reason.

Mr. Locke addressed these gentlemen in the candid, sincere manner following: At least confess yourselves to be as ignorant as I. Neither your imaginations nor mine are able to comprehend in what manner a body is susceptible of ideas; and do you conceive better in what manner a substance, of what kind soever, is susceptible of them? As you cannot comprehend either matter or spirit, why will you presume to assert anything?

Mr. Locke addressed these gentlemen with honesty and sincerity: At least admit that you are as ignorant as I am. Neither you nor I can imagine how a body can have ideas. And do you understand any better how a substance of any kind can have ideas? Since you cannot understand either matter or spirit, why do you presume to make any claims?

The superstitious man comes afterwards and declares, that all those must be burnt for the good of their souls, who so much as suspect that it is possible for the body to think without any foreign assistance. But what would these people say should they themselves be proved irreligious? And indeed, what man can presume to assert, without being guilty at the same time of the greatest impiety, that it is impossible for the Creator to form matter with thought and sensation? Consider only, I beg you, what a dilemma you bring yourselves into, you who confine in this manner the power of the Creator. Beasts have the same organs, the same sensations, the same perceptions as we; they have memory, and combine certain ideas. In case it was not in the power of God to animate matter, and inform it with sensation, the consequence would be, either that beasts are mere machines, or that they have a spiritual soul.

Then the superstitious man declares that certain people must all be burned for the good of their souls. Their offense is merely suspecting that the body might think without any outside help. But what would these people say if they themselves were proved irreligious? Indeed, who can claim that the Creator cannot make matter capable of thought and sensation without showing the greatest impiety? I beg you, consider the dilemma you create for yourselves by limiting the Creator’s power in this way. Animals have the same organs, sensations, and perceptions as we do. Animals have memory and combine certain ideas. If God could not give matter life and sensation, then animals must either be mere machines or have spiritual souls.

Methinks it is clearly evident that beasts cannot be mere machines, which I prove thus. God has given to them the very same organs of sensation as to us: if therefore they have no sensation, God has created a useless thing; now according to your own confession God does nothing in vain; He therefore did not create so many organs of sensation, merely for them to be uninformed with this faculty; consequently beasts are not mere machines. Beasts, according to your assertion, cannot be animated with a spiritual soul; you will, therefore, in spite of yourself, be reduced to this only assertion, viz., that God has endued the organs of beasts, who are mere matter, with the faculties of sensation and perception, which you call instinct in them. But why may not God, if He pleases, communicate to our more delicate organs, that faculty of feeling, perceiving, and thinking, which we call human reason? To whatever side you turn, you are forced to acknowledge your own ignorance, and the boundless power of the Creator. Exclaim therefore no more against the sage, the modest philosophy of Mr. Locke, which so far from interfering with religion, would be of use to demonstrate the truth of it, in case religion wanted any such support. For what philosophy can be of a more religious nature than that, which affirming nothing but what it conceives clearly, and conscious of its own weakness, declares that we must always have recourse to God in our examining of the first principles?

It seems clear to me that animals cannot be mere machines. Here is my proof. God has given animals the very same sense organs as us. If animals cannot feel, then God has created something useless. Yet by your own admission, God does nothing in vain. So he did not create so many sense organs only to leave them without the ability to feel. Therefore, animals are not mere machines. You claim that animals cannot have a spiritual soul. So, despite yourself, you are left with only one conclusion. God has given animals’ organs, which are nothing but matter, the ability to feel and perceive. In animals, you call these abilities instinct. But why could God not, if he chooses, give our more delicate organs the ability to feel, perceive, and think? We call these abilities human reason. Whichever way you turn, you must acknowledge your own ignorance and the Creator’s boundless power. So stop attacking Mr. Locke’s wise and modest philosophy. Far from conflicting with religion, his philosophy could help demonstrate religion’s truth, if religion needed any such support. For what philosophy could be more religious than one that affirms only what it clearly understands? Aware of its own weakness, this philosophy declares that we must always turn to God when examining first principles.

Besides, we must not be apprehensive that any philosophical opinion will ever prejudice the religion of a country. Though our demonstrations clash directly with our mysteries, that is nothing to the purpose, for the latter are not less revered upon that account by our Christian philosophers, who know very well that the objects of reason and those of faith are of a very different nature. Philosophers will never form a religious sect, the reason of which is, their writings are not calculated for the vulgar, and they themselves are free from enthusiasm. If we divide mankind into twenty parts, it will be found that nineteen of these consist of persons employed in manual labour, who will never know that such a man as Mr. Locke existed. In the remaining twentieth part how few are readers? And among such as are so, twenty amuse themselves with romances to one who studies philosophy. The thinking part of mankind is confined to a very small number, and these will never disturb the peace and tranquillity of the world.

Besides, we need not fear that any philosophical opinion will ever harm a country’s religion. Though our proofs directly contradict the mysteries of our faith, that makes no difference. Our Christian philosophers revere those mysteries no less because of the contradiction. They know very well that reason and faith concern things of very different kinds. Philosophers will never form a religious sect, because their writings are not meant for ordinary people. Nor are philosophers themselves driven by religious fervor. If we divide humanity into twenty parts, nineteen will consist of people who work with their hands. These people will never know that a man named Mr. Locke existed. Of the remaining twentieth, how few are readers? And among those readers, twenty entertain themselves with novels for every one who studies philosophy. The thinking part of humanity consists of very few people, and those few will never disturb the world’s peace and quiet.

Neither Montaigne, Locke, Bayle, Spinoza, Hobbes, the Lord Shaftesbury, Collins, nor Toland lighted up the firebrand of discord in their countries; this has generally been the work of divines, who being at first puffed up with the ambition of becoming chiefs of a sect, soon grew very desirous of being at the head of a party. But what do I say? All the works of the modern philosophers put together will never make so much noise as even the dispute which arose among the Franciscans, merely about the fashion of their sleeves and of their cowls.

Neither Montaigne, Locke, Bayle, Spinoza, Hobbes, Lord Shaftesbury, Collins, nor Toland stirred up conflict in their countries. Such conflict has generally been the work of theologians. At first, these theologians were full of ambition to lead a religious sect. Soon, however, they became eager to lead a political faction. But what am I saying? All the modern philosophers’ works combined will never cause as much uproar as one dispute among the Franciscans. That dispute was merely about the style of their sleeves and hoods.