that yellow, heavy, fusible body, I call gold, be malleable, or no; which experience (however it prove in that particular body we examine) makes us not certain that it is so in all, or any other yellow, heavy, fusible bodies, but that which we have tried; because it is no consequence one way or the other from our complex idea the necessity or inconsistence of malleability has no visible connexion with the combination of that color, weight, and fusibility in any body. What I have here said of the nominal essence of gold, supposed to consist of a body of such a determinate color, weight, and fusibility, will hold true, if other qualities be added to it. Our reasonings from those ideas will carry us but a little way in the certain discovery of the other properties, in those masses of matter wherein all those are to be found. As far as our experience reaches, we may have certain knowlege, and no farther.

I deny not, but a man accustomed to rational and regular experiments, shall be able to see farther into the nature of bodies, and their unknown properties, than one that is a stranger to them. But this is but judgment and opinion, not knowlege and certainty. This makes me suspect that natural philosophy is not capable of being made a science: from experiments and historical observations we may draw advantages of ease and health, and thereby increase our stock of conveniences for this life; but beyond this, I fear our talents reach not; nor are our faculties, as I guess, able to advance.

From whence it is obvious to conclude, that since our faculties are not fitted to penetrate the real essences of bodies, but yet plainly to discover to us the being of a God, and the knowlege of ourselves; enough to give us a clear discovery of our duty, and great concernment; it will become us, as rational creatures, to employ our faculties about what they are most adapted to, and follow the direction of nature, where it seems

to point us out the way. For it is rational to conclude, that our proper employment lies in those inquiries, and that sort of knowlege which is most suited to our natural capacities, and carries in it our greatest interest, that is, the condition of our eternal state: and therefore it is, I think, that morality is the proper science and business of mankind in general (who are both concerned and fitted to search out their summum bonum); as several arts conversant about the several parts of nature are the lot and private talent of ticular men, for the common use of human life, and their own particular subsistence in this world.

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The ways to enlarge our knowlege, as far as we are capable, seem to me to be these two: the first is to get and settle in our minds, as far as we can, clear, distinct, and constant ideas of those things 'we would consider and know. For, it being evident that our knowlege cannot exceed our ideas; where they are either imperfect, confused, or obscure, we cannot expect to have certain, perfect, or clear knowlege. The other is the art of finding out the intermediate ideas, which may show us the agreement or repugnancy of other ideas, which cannot be immediately compared.

That these two (and not the relying on maxims, and drawing consequences from some general propositions) are the right method of improving our knowlege, in the ideas of other modes, besides those of quantity, the consideration of mathematical knowlege will easily inform us. Where, first, we shall find that he that has not clear and perfect ideas of those angles or figures, of which he desires to know any thing, is utterly thereby incapable of any knowlege about them. Suppose a man not to have an exact idea of a right angle, scalenum, or trapezium, and it is clear that he will in vain seek any demonstration about them. And, farther, it is evident that it was not the influence of maxims or principles that has led the masters of this science into those wonderful disco

veries they have made. Let a man of good parts know all the maxims of mathematics never so well, and contemplate their extent and consequences as much as he pleases; he will, by their assistance, I suppose, scarce ever come to know that the square of the hypothenuse, in a right-angled triangle, is equal to the squares of the two other sides. This, and other mathematical truths, have been discovered by the thoughts, otherwise applied. The mind had other objects, other views before it, far different from those maxims which men well enough acquainted with those received axioms, but ignorant of their method, who first made these demonstrations, can never sufficiently admire.

CHAPTER XIII.

Some farther Considerations concerning Knowlege.

Our knowlege, as in other things, so in this, has a great conformity with our sight, that it is neither wholly necessary, nor wholly voluntary. Men that have senses cannot choose but receive some ideas by them; and if they have memory, they cannot but retain some of them; and if they have any distinguishing faculty, cannot but perceive the agreement or disagreement of some of them, one with another. As he that has eyes, if he will open them by day, cannot but see some objects, and perceive a difference in them; yet he may choose whether he will turn his eyes towards an object, curiously survey it, and observe accurately all that is visible in it. But what he does see, he cannot see otherwise than he does: it depends not on his will, to see that black which appears yellow. Just thus it is with our understanding: all that is voluntary in our knowlege, is the employing or withholding any of our faculties from this or that sort of objects, and a more or less accurate survey of them; but they being em

ployed, our will hath no power to determine the knowlege of the mind, one way or other. That is done only by the objects themselves, as far as they are clearly discovered.

Thus he that has got the ideas of numbers, and hath taken the pains to compare one, two, and three, to six, cannot choose but know that they are equal. He also that hath the idea of an intelligent, but weak and frail being, made by, and depending on another, who is eternal, omnipotent, perfectly wise and good, will as certainly know, that man is to honor, fear, and obey God, as that the sun shines when he sees it. But yet these truths, being never so certain, never so clear, he may be ignorant of either or both of them, who will not take the pains to employ his faculties as he should, to inform himself about them.

CHAPTER XIV.

Of Judgment.

The understanding faculties being given to man, not barely for speculation, but also for the conduct of his life; a man would be at a great loss if he had nothing to direct him but what has the certainty of true knowlege. He that will not eat till he has demonstration that it will nourish him, nor stir till he is infallibly assured of success in his business, will have little else to do but sit still and perish.

Therefore as God hath set some things in broad daylight; as he has given us some certain knowlege, though limited to a few things, in comparison, (probably as a taste of what intellectual creatures are capable of, to excite in us a desire and endeavor after a better state,) so, in the greatest part of our concernment, he has afforded us only the twilight, as I may so say, of probability, suitable to that state of mediocrity and probationership, he has been pleased to place us in here.

Locke.

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The faculty which God has given man to enlighten him, next to certain knowlege, is judgment, whereby the mind takes its idea to agree or disagree, without perceiving a demonstrative evidence in the proofs. The mind exercises this judgment, sometimes out of necessity, where demonstrative proofs and certain knowlege are not to be had; and sometimes out of laziness, unskilfulness, or haste, even where they are to be had.

This faculty of the mind when it is exercised immediately about things, is called judgment; when about truths delivered in words, is most commonly called assent, or dissent. Thus the mind has two faculties conversant about truth and falsehood: 1. knowlege, whereby it certainly perceives, and is undoubtedly satisfied of the agreement or disagreement of any. ideas; 2. judgment, which is the putting ideas together, or separating them from one another in the mind, when their certain agreement or disagreement is not perceived, but presumed to be so. And if it so unites or separates them, as in reality things are, it is right judgment.

CHAPTER XV.

Of Probability.

Probability is nothing but the appearance of the agreement or disagreement of two ideas, by the intervention of proofs, whose connexion is not constant, and immutable; or is not perceived to be so; but is, or appears for the most part to be so, and is enough to induce the mind to judge the proposition to be true or false, rather than the contrary.

Of probability there are degrees from the neighborhood of certainty and demonstration, quite down to improbability and unlikeliness, even to the confines of impossibility: and also degrees of assent from certain knowlege and what is next it, full assurance and