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Second DialoguePart I
Part I
Hylas. I beg your pardon, Philonous, for not meeting you sooner. All
this morning my head was so filled with our late conversation that I had not
leisure to think of the time of the day, or indeed of anything else.
Philonous. I am glad you were so intent upon it, in hopes if there were
any mistakes in your concessions, or fallacies in my reasonings from them,
you will now discover them to me.
Hyl. I assure you I have done nothing ever since I saw you but search
after mistakes and fallacies, and, with that view, have minutely examined the
whole series of yesterday`s discourse: but all in vain, for the notions it led
me into, upon review, appear still more clear and evident; and, the more I
consider them, the more irresistibly do they force my assent.
Phil. And is not this, think you, a sign that they are genuine, that they
proceed from nature, and are conformable to right reason? Truth and beauty are
in this alike, that the strictest survey sets them both off to advantage;
while the false lustre of error and disguise cannot endure being reviewed, or
too nearly inspected.
Hyl. I own there is a great deal in what you say. Nor can any one be more
entirely satisfied of the truth of those odd consequences, so long as I have
in view the reasonings that lead to them. But, when these are out of my
thoughts, there seems, on the other hand, something so satisfactory, so
natural and intelligible, in the modern way of explaining things that, I
profess, I know not how to reject it.
Phil. I know not what way you mean.
Hyl. I mean the way of accounting for our sensations or ideas.
Phil. How is that?
Hyl. It is supposed the soul makes her residence in some part of the
brain, from which the nerves take their rise, and are thence extended to all
parts of the body; and that outward objects, by the different impressions
they make on the organs of sense, communicate certain vibrative motions to
the nerves; and these being filled with spirits propagate them to the brain
or seat of the soul, which, according to the various impressions or traces
thereby made in the brain, is variously affected with ideas.
Phil. And call you this an explication of the manner whereby we are
affected with ideas?
Hyl. Why not, Philonous? Have you anything to object against it?
Phil. I would first know whether I rightly understand your hypothesis.
You make certain traces in the brain to be the causes or occasions of our
ideas. Pray tell me whether by the brain you mean any sensible thing.
Hyl. What else think you I could mean?
Phil. Sensible things are all immediately perceivable; and those things
which are immediately perceivable are ideas; and these exist only in the mind.
Thus much you have, if I mistake not, long since agreed to.
Hyl. I do not deny it.
Phil. The brain therefore you speak of, being a sensible thing, exists
only in the mind. Now, I would fain know whether you think it reasonable to
suppose that one idea or thing existing in the mind occasions all other
ideas. And, if you think so, pray how do you account for the origin of that
primary idea or brain itself?
Hyl. I do not explain the origin of our ideas by that brain which is
perceivable to sense - this being itself only a combination of sensible
ideas - but by another which I imagine.
Phil. But are not things imagined as truly in the mind as things
perceived?
Hyl. I must confess they are.
Phil. It comes, therefore, to the same thing; and you have been all
this while accounting for ideas by certain motions or impressions of the
brain; that is, by some alterations in an idea, whether sensible or imaginable
it matters not.
Hyl. I begin to suspect my hypothesis.
Phil. Besides spirits, all that we know or conceive are our own ideas.
When, therefore, you say all ideas are occasioned by impressions in the brain,
do you conceive this brain or no? If you do, then you talk of ideas imprinted
in an idea causing that same idea, which is absurd. If you do not conceive it,
you talk unintelligibly, instead of forming a reasonable hypothesis.
Hyl. I now clearly see it was a mere dream. There is nothing in it.
Phil. You need not be much concerned at it; for after all, this way of
explaining things, as you called it, could never have satisfied any reasonable
man. What connexion is there between a motion in the nerves, and the
sensations of sound or colour in the mind? Or how is it possible these should
be the effect of that?
Hyl. But I could never think it had so little in it as now it seems to
have.
Phil. Well then, are you at length satisfied that no sensible things
have a real existence; and that you are in truth an arrant sceptic?
Hyl. It is too plain to be denied.
Phil. Look! are not the fields covered with a delightful verdure? Is
there not something in the woods and groves, in the rivers and clear springs,
that soothes, that delights, that transports the soul? At the prospect of the
wide and deep ocean, or some huge mountain whose top is lost in the clouds, or
of an old gloomy forest, are not our minds filled with a pleasing horror? Even
in rocks and deserts is there not an agreeable wildness? How sincere a
pleasure is it to behold the natural beauties of the earth! To preserve and
renew our relish for them, is not the veil of night alternately drawn over her
face, and doth she not change her dress with the seasons? How aptly are the
elements disposed! What variety and use^1 [in the meanest productions of
nature]! What delicacy, what beauty, what contrivance, in animal and vegetable
bodies! How exquisitely are all things suited, as well to their particular
ends, as to constitute opposite parts of the whole! And, while they mutually
aid and support, do they not also set off and illustrate each other? Raise now
your thoughts from this ball of earth to all those glorious luminaries that
adorn the high arch of heaven. The motion and situation of the planets, are
they not admirable for use and order? Were those (miscalled erratic) globes
once known to stray, in their repeated journeys through the pathless void? Do
they not measure areas round the sun ever proportioned to the times? So fixed,
so immutable are the laws by which the unseen Author of nature actuates the
universe. How vivid and radiant is the lustre of the fixed stars! How
magnificent and rich that negligent profusion with which they appear to be
scattered throughout the whole azure vault! Yet, if you take the telescope, it
brings into your sight a new host of stars that escape the naked eye. Here
they seem contiguous and minute, but to a nearer view immense orbs of light
at various distances, far sunk in the abyss of space. Now you must call
imagination to your aid. The feeble narrow sense cannot descry innumerable
worlds revolving round the central fires; and in those worlds the energy of an
all-perfect. Mind displayed in endless forms. But, neither sense nor
imagination are big enough to comprehend the boundless extent, with all its
glittering furniture. Though the labouring mind exert and strain each power to
its utmost reach, there still stands out ungrasped a surplusage immeasurable.
Yet all the vast bodies that compose this mighty frame, how distant and remote
soever, are by some secret mechanism, some Divine art and force, linked in a
mutual dependence and intercourse with each other; even with this earth, which
was almost slipt from my thoughts and lost in the crowd of worlds. Is not the
whole system immense, beautiful, glorious beyond expression and beyond
thought! What treatment, then, do those philosophers deserve, who would
deprive these noble and delightful scenes of all reality? How should those
Principles be entertained that lead us to think all the visible beauty of the
creation a false imaginary glare? To be plain, can you expect this
Scepticism of yours will not be thought extravagantly absurd by all men of
sense?
[Footnote 1: "In stones and minerals" - in first and second editions.]
Hyl. Other men may think as they please; but for your part you have
nothing to reproach me with. My comfort is, you are as much a sceptic as I am.
Phil. There, Hylas, I must beg leave to differ from you.
Hyl. What! Have you all along agreed to the premises, and do you now deny
the conclusion, and leave me to maintain those paradoxes by myself which you
led me into? This surely is not fair.
Phil. I deny that I agreed with you in those notions that led to
Scepticism. You indeed said the reality of sensible things consisted in an
absolute existence out of the minds of spirits, or distinct from their being
perceived. And pursuant to this notion of reality, you are obliged to deny
sensible things any real existence: that is, according to your own definition,
you profess yourself a sceptic. But I neither said nor thought the reality of
sensible things was to be defined after that manner. To me it is evident for
the reasons you allow of, that sensible things cannot exist otherwise than in
a mind or spirit. Whence I conclude, not that they have no real existence, but
that, seeing they depend not on my thought, and have all existence distinct
from being perceived by me, there must be some other Mind wherein they exist.
As sure, therefore, as the sensible world really exists, so sure is there an
infinite omnipresent Spirit who contains and supports it.
Hyl. What! This is no more than I and all Christians hold; nay, and all
others too who believe there is a God, and that He knows and comprehends all
things.
Phil. Aye, but here lies the difference. Men commonly believe that all
things are known or perceived by God, because they believe the being of a God;
whereas I, on the other side, immediately and necessarily conclude the being
of a God, because all sensible things must be perceived by Him.
Hyl. But, so long as we all believe the same thing, what matter is it how
we come by that belief?
Phil. But neither do we agree in the same opinion. For philosophers,
though they acknowledge all corporeal beings to be perceived by God, yet they
attribute to them an absolute subsistence distinct from their being perceived
by any mind whatever; which I do not. Besides, is there no difference between
saying, There is a God, therefore He perceives all things; and saying,
Sensible things do really exist; and, if they really exist, they are
necessarily perceived by an infinite Mind: therefore there is an infinite
Mind or God? This furnishes you with a direct and immediate demonstration,
from a most evident principle, of the being of a God. Divines and
philosophers had proved beyond all controversy, from the beauty and
usefulness of the several parts of the creation, that it was the workmanship
of God. But that - setting aside all help of astronomy and natural philosophy,
all contemplation of the contrivance, order, and adjustment of things - an
infinite Mind should be necessarily inferred from the bare existence of the
sensible world, is an advantage to them only who have made this easy
reflexion: that the sensible world is that which we perceive by our several
senses; and that nothing is perceived by the senses beside ideas; and that no
idea or archetype of an idea can exist otherwise than in a mind. You may now,
without any laborious search into the sciences, without any subtlety of
reason, or tedious length of discourse, oppose and baffle the most strenuous
advocate for Atheism. Those miserable refuges, whether in an eternal
succession of unthinking causes and effects, or in a fortuitous concourse of
atoms; those wild imaginations of Vanini, Hobbes, and Spinoza: in a word, the
whole system of Atheism, is it not entirely overthrown, by this single
reflexion on the repugnancy included in supposing the whole, or any part,
even the most rude and shapeless, of the visible world, to exist without a
mind? Let any one of those abettors of impiety but look into his own
thoughts, and there try if he can conceive how so much as a rock, a desert, a
chaos, or confused jumble of atoms; how anything at all, either sensible or
imaginable, can exist independent of a Mind, and he need go no farther to be
convinced of his folly. Can anything be fairer than to put a dispute on such
an issue, and leave it to a man himself to see if he can conceive, even in
thought, what he holds to be true in fact, and from a notional to allow it a
real existence?
Hyl. It cannot be denied there is something highly serviceable to
religion in what you advance. But do you not think it looks very like a notion
entertained by some eminent moderns, of seeing all things in God?
Phil. I would gladly know that opinion: pray explain it to me.
Hyl. They conceive that the soul, being immaterial, is incapable of
being united with material things, so as to perceive them in themselves; but
that she perceives them by her union with the substance of God, which, being
spiritual, is therefore purely intelligible, or capable of being the immediate
object of a spirit`s thought. Besides the Divine essence contains in it
perfections correspondent to each created being; and which are, for that
reason, proper to exhibit or represent them to the mind.
Phil. I do not understand how our ideas, which are things altogether
passive and inert, can be the essence, or any part (or like any part) of the
essence or substance of God, who is an impassive, indivisible, pure, active
being. Many more difficulties and objections there are which occur at first
view against this hypothesis; but I shall only add that it is liable to all
the absurdities of the common hypothesis, in making a created world exist
otherwise than in the mind of a Spirit. Besides all which it hath this
peculiar to itself; that it makes that material world serve to no purpose.
And, if it pass for a good argument against other hypotheses in the sciences,
that they suppose Nature, or the Divine wisdom, to make something in vain, or
do that by tedious roundabout methods which might have been performed in a
much more easy and compendious way, what shall we think of that hypothesis
which supposes the whole world made in vain?
Hyl. But what say you? Are not you too of opinion that we see all things
in God? If I mistake not, what you advance comes near it.
Phil. [Few men think; yet all have opinions. Hence men`s opinions are
superficial and confused. It is nothing strange that tenets which in
themselves are ever so different, should nevertheless be confounded with each
other, by those who do not consider them attentively. I shall not therefore be
surprised if some men imagine that I run into the enthusiasm of Malebranche;
though in truth I am very remote from it. He builds on the most abstract
general ideas, which I entirely disclaim. He asserts an absolute external
world, which I deny. He maintains that we are deceived by our senses, and know
not the real natures or the true forms and figures of extended beings; of all
which I hold the direct contrary. So that upon the whole there are no
Principles more fundamentally opposite than his and mine. It must be owned
that^2] I entirely agree with what the holy Scripture saith, "That in God we
live and move and have our being." But that we see things in His essence,
after the manner above set forth, I am far from believing. Take here in brief
my meaning: - It is evident that the things I perceive are my own ideas, and
that no idea can exist unless it be in a mind: nor is it less plain that these
ideas or things by me perceived, either themselves of their archetypes, exist
independently of my mind, since I know myself not to be their author, it being
out of my power to determine at pleasure what particular ideas I shall be
affected with upon opening my eyes or ears: they must therefore exist in some
other Mind, whose Will it is they should be exhibited to me. The things, I
say, immediately perceived are ideas or sensations, call them which you will.
But how can any idea or sensation exist in, or be produced by, anything but a
mind or spirit? This indeed is inconceivable. And to assert that which is
inconceivable is to talk nonsense: is it not?
[Footnote 2: The passage within brackets first appeared in the third edition.]
Hyl. Without doubt.
Phil. But, on the other hand, it is very conceivable that they should
exist in and be produced by a spirit; since this is no more than I daily
experience in myself, inasmuch as I perceive numberless ideas; and, by an act
of my will, can form a great variety of them, and raise them up in my
imagination: though, it must be confessed, these creatures of the fancy are
not altogether so distinct, so strong, vivid, and permanent, as those
perceived by my senses - which latter are called real things. From all which I
conclude, there is a Mind which affects me every moment with all the sensible
impressions I perceive. And, from the variety, order, and manner of these, I
conclude the Author of them to be wise, powerful, and good, beyond
comprehension. Mark it well; I do not say, I see things by perceiving that
which represents them in the intelligible Substance of God. This I do not
understand; but I say, the things by me perceived are known by the
understanding, and produced by the will of an infinite Spirit. And is not all
this most plain and evident? Is there any more in it than what a little
observation in our own minds, and that which passeth in them, not only enables
us to conceive, but also obliges us to acknowledge.
Hyl. I think I understand you very clearly; and own the proof you give of
a Deity seems no less evident than it is surprising. But, allowing that God is
the supreme and universal Cause of all things, yet, may there not be still a
Third Nature besides Spirits and Ideas? May we not admit a subordinate and
limited cause of our ideas? In a word, may there not for all that be Matter?
Phil. How often must I inculcate the same thing? You allow the things
immediately perceived by sense to exist nowhere without the mind; but there
is nothing perceived by sense which is not perceived immediately: therefore
there is nothing sensible that exists without the mind. The Matter,
therefore, which you still insist on is something intelligible, I suppose;
something that may be discovered by reason, and not by sense.
Hyl. You are in the right.
Phil. Pray let me know what reasoning your belief of Matter is grounded
on; and what this Matter is, in your present sense of it.
Hyl. I find myself affected with various ideas, whereof I know I am not
the cause; neither are they the cause of themselves, or of one another, or
capable of subsisting by themselves, as being altogether inactive, fleeting,
dependent beings. They have therefore some cause distinct from me and them: of
which I pretend to know no more than that it is the cause of my ideas. And
this thing, whatever it be, I call Matter.
Phil. Tell me, Hylas, hath every one a liberty to change the current
proper signification attached to a common name in any language? For example,
suppose a traveller should tell you that in a certain country men pass unhurt
through the fire; and, upon explaining himself, you found he meant by the word
fire that which others call water. Or, if he should assert that there are
trees that walk upon two legs, meaning men by the term trees. Would you think
this reasonable?
Hyl. No; I should think it very absurd. Common custom is the standard of
propriety in language. And for any man to affect speaking improperly is to
pervert the use of speech, and can never serve to a better purpose than to
protract and multiply disputes where there is no difference in opinion.
Phil. And doth not Matter, in the common current acceptation of the word,
signify an extended, solid, moveable, unthinking, inactive Substance?
Hyl. It doth.
Phil. And, hath it not been made evident that no such substance can
possibly exist? And, though it should be allowed to exist, yet how can that
which is inactive be a cause; or that which is unthinking be a cause of
thought? You may, indeed, if you please, annex to the word Matter a contrary
meaning to what is vulgarly received; and tell me you understand by it, an
unextended, thinking, active being, which is the cause of our ideas. But what
else is this than to play with words, and run into that very fault you just
now condemned with so much reason? I do by no means find fault with your
reasoning, in that you collect a cause from the phenomena: but I deny that
the cause deducible by reason can properly be termed Matter.
Hyl. There is indeed something in what you say. But I am afraid you do
not thoroughly comprehend my meaning. I would by no means be thought to deny
that God, or an infinite Spirit, is the Supreme Cause of all things. All I
contend for is, that, subordinate to the Supreme Agent, there is a cause of a
limited and inferior nature, which concurs in the production of our ideas,
not by any act of will, or spiritual efficiency, but by that kind of action
which belongs to Matter, viz. motion.
Phil. I find you are at every turn relapsing into your old exploded
conceit, of a moveable, and consequently an extended, substance, existing
without the mind. What! Have you already forgotten you were convinced; or
are you willing I should repeat what has been said on that head? In truth this
is not fair dealing in you, still to suppose the being of that which you have
so often acknowledged to have no being. But, not to insist farther on what has
been so largely handled, I ask whether all your ideas are not perfectly
passive and inert, including nothing of action in them.
Hyl. They are.
Phil. And are sensible qualities anything else but ideas?
Hyl. How often have I acknowledged that they are not.
Phil. But is not motion a sensible quality?
Hyl. It is.
Phil. Consequently it is no action?
Hyl. I agree with you. And indeed it is very plain that when I stir my
finger, it remains passive; but my will which produced the motion is active.
Phil. Now, I desire to know, in the first place, whether, motion being
allowed to be no action, you can conceive any action besides volition: and,
in the second place, whether to say something and conceive nothing be not to
talk nonsense: and, lastly, whether, having considered the premises, you do
not perceive that to suppose any efficient or active Cause of our ideas, other
than Spirit, is highly absurd and unreasonable?
Hyl. I give up the point entirely. But, though Matter may not be a cause,
yet what hinders its being an instrument, subservient to the supreme Agent in
the production of our ideas?
Phil. An Instrument say you; pray what may be the figure, springs,
wheels, and motions, of that instrument?
Hyl. Those I pretend to determine nothing of, both the substance and its
qualities being entirely unknown to me.
Phil. What? You are then of opinion it is made up of unknown parts, that
it hath unknown motions, and an unknown shape?
Hyl. I do not believe that it hath any figure or motion at all, being
already convinced, that no sensible qualities can exist in an unperceiving
substance.
Phil. But what notion is it possible to frame of an instrument void of
all sensible qualities, even extension itself?
Hyl. I do not pretend to have any notion of it.
Phil. And what reason have you think this unknown, this inconceivable
Somewhat doth exist? Is it that you imagine God cannot act as well without it;
or that you find by experience the use of some such thing, when you form
ideas in your own mind?
Hyl. You are always teasing me for reasons of my belief. Pray what
reasons have you not to believe it?
Phil. It is to me a sufficient reason not to believe the existence of
anything, if I see no reason for believing it. But, not to insist on reasons
for believing, you will not so much as let me know what it is you would have
me believe; since you say you have no manner of notion of it. After all, let
me entreat you to consider whether it be like a philosopher, or even like a
man of common sense, to pretend to believe you know not what, and you know
not why.
Hyl. Hold, Philonous. When I tell you Matter is an instrument, I do not
mean altogether nothing. It is true I know not the particular kind of
instrument; but, however, I have some notion of instrument in general, which
I apply to it.
Phil. But what if it should prove that there is something, even in the
most general notion of instrument, as taken in a distinct sense from cause,
which makes the use of it inconsistent with the Divine attributes?
Hyl. Make that appear and I shall give up the point.
Phil. What mean you by the general nature or notion of instrument?
Hyl. That which is common to all particular instruments composeth the
general notion.
Phil. Is it not common to all instruments, that they are applied to the
doing those things only which cannot be performed by the mere act of our
wills? Thus, for instance, I never use an instrument to move my finger,
because it is done by a volition. But I should use one if I were to remove
part of a rock, or tear up a tree by the roots. Are you of the same mind?
Or, can you shew any example where an instrument is made use of in producing
an effect immediately depending on the will of the agent?
Hyl. I own I cannot.
Phil. How therefore can you suppose that an All-perfect Spirit, on whose
Will all things have an absolute and immediate dependence, should need an
instrument in his operations, or, not needing it, make use of it? Thus it
seems to me that you are obliged to own the use of a lifeless inactive
instrument to be incompatible with the infinite perfection of God; that is,
by your own confession, to give up the point.
Hyl. It doth not readily occur what I can answer you.
Phil. But, methinks you should be ready to own the truth, when it has
been fairly proved to you. We indeed, who are beings of finite powers, are
forced to make use of instruments. And the use of an instrument sheweth the
agent to be limited by rules of another`s prescription, and that he cannot
obtain his end but in such a way, and by such conditions. Whence it seems a
clear consequence, that the supreme unlimited agent useth no tool or
instrument at all. The will of an Omnipotent Spirit is no sooner exerted than
executed, without the application of means; which, if they are employed by
inferior agents, it is not upon account of any real efficacy that is in them,
or necessary aptitude to produce any effect, but merely in compliance with the
laws of nature, or those conditions prescribed to them by the First Cause,
who is Himself above all limitation or prescription whatsoever.
Hyl. I will no longer maintain that Matter is an instrument. However, I
would not be understood to give up its existence neither; since,
notwithstanding what hath been said, it may still be an occasion.
Phil. How many shapes is your Matter to take? Or, how often must it be
proved not to exist, before you are content to part with it? But, to say no
more of this (though by all the laws of disputation I may justly blame you
for so frequently changing the signification of the principal term) - I would
fain know what you mean by affirming that matter is an occasion, having
already denied it to be a cause. And, when you have shewn in what sense you
understand occasion, pray, in the next place, be pleased to shew me what
reason induceth you to believe there is such an occasion of our ideas?
Hyl. As to the first point: by occasion I mean an inactive unthinking
being, at the presence whereof God excites ideas in our minds.
Phil. And what may be the nature of that inactive unthinking being?
Hyl. I know nothing of its nature.
Phil. Proceed then to the second point, and assign some reason why we
should allow an existence to this inactive, unthinking, unknown thing.
Hyl. When we see ideas produced in our minds, after an orderly and
constant manner, it is natural to think they have some fixed and regular
occasions, at the presence of which they are excited.
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