plex ideas comprehending time and space with mo

tion.

Every articulate word is a different modification of sound, by which the mind may be furnished with distinct ideas to an indefinite number. Sounds also are modified by notes of different length put together, making the complex idea of a tune, which a musician may have in his mind by silently reflecting on the ideas of those sounds.

The modes of colors are also various, as the different degrees or shades of the same color; but since we seldom make assemblages of colors, but figure has its part in them, those which are most taken notice of are mixed modes made up of color and figure, as 'beauty,' 'rainbow,' &c.

All compounded tastes and smells are modes made up of the simple ideas of those senses; but being such as we have no names for, must be left without enumeration.

In general, it may be observed, that those simple modes which are but different degrees of the same simple idea, though distinct in themselves, have no distinct names, where the difference is small between them; either because men wanted measures nicely to distinguish them, or because, when distinguished, the knowlege would not be of general use. The reason

of which I suppose has been this;-the great concernment of men being with men one amongst another, the knowlege of men, and their actions, and ways of signifying them, was most necessary; therefore ideas of actions were nicely modified, and our complex ideas of them received names, in order that we might record and discourse of them without circumlocution.

That this is so, we may observe in many arts, where, for the sake of a short way to express their thoughts, those concerned in them have invented words for complex ideas, which are unintelligible to most men of the same language.

CHAPTER XIX.

Of the Modes of Thinking.

When the mind contemplates its own actions, thinking is the first that occurs. In it the mind observes various modifications, from which it receives distinct ideas. The perception accompanying an impression made on the body by an external object, being distinct from all other modifications of thinking, is called sensation. The same idea recurring without an impression on the external sensory by the same object, is called remembrance. If the mind recover the idea by laborious search, it is recollection: if it be held long under consideration, it is contemplation. When ideas float in the mind without reflection it is what we call by the French word, reverie; when ideas are taken notice of and registered in the memory, it is attention; when the mind with great earnestness fixes its view on any idea, it is that we call intention or study. Sleep without dreaming is rest from all these: and dreaming is having ideas not suggested by external objects, nor under the conduct. of the understanding. What we call ecstasy may be dreaming with the eyes open.

I

These are some few instances of the various modes of thinking, which the mind may observe in itself. pretend not to enumerate them all it suffices to have shown by some examples of what sort these ideas are, and how the mind comes by them; especially since I shall have occasion hereafter to treat more at large of reasoning, judging, volition, and knowlege.

But it may not be an unpardonable digression if we reflect here on the different states of the mind in thinking, which the instances before-mentioned naturally suggest. That there are some ideas always present to the mind, experience convinces us. Sometimes the mind fixes itself so earnestly on the contem

plation of some objects, that it shuts out all other thoughts, and takes no notice of the ordinary impressions made then on the senses: at other times it barely observes the train of ideas; and at others, lets them pass quite unregarded, as shadows that make no impression. The difference between earnest study and very near minding nothing at all every one has experienced in himself. Trace it a little farther, and you find the mind in sleep out of the reach of the motions made on the organs of sense. But in this retirement

of the mind from the senses, it often retains an incoherent manner of thinking which we call dreaming: and last of all, sound sleep quite closes the scene. Since all this is so evident in constant experience, is it not probable that thinking is the action, and not the essence of the soul? since the operation of agents will admit of intention and remission; but the essences of things are not capable of any such variation.

CHAPTER XX.

Of Modes of Pleasure and Pain.

Of the simple ideas which we receive from sensation and reflection, pain and pleasure are two very considerable ones. The thoughts and perceptions of the mind, as also the sensations of the body, exist sometimes simply, unaccompanied either with pleasure or pain. These, like other simple ideas, cannot be described nor their names defined; the way of knowing them is only by experience.

Things are good and evil only in reference to pleasure or pain. That which causes pleasure or diminishes pain we call good; and we name that evil which produces pain or diminishes pleasure. By pleasure and pain I mean of body and mind, as they are commonly distinguished; though they be only different constitutions of the mind, occasioned by bodily sensations, or mental perceptions.

Pleasure and pain are the hinges on which our passions turn; and if we observe how these operate in us, we may thence form to ourselves some ideas of our passions. Any one reflecting on the thought of the delight which any present or absent thing produces in him, has the idea of love. On the contrary, the thought of the pain which any thing present or absent. is apt to produce in us, is what we call hatred. Our love and hatred of inanimate beings is founded on the pleasure and pain we receive from them: but hatred or love, to beings capable of happiness or misery, is often the uneasiness or delight which we find in ourselves from a consideration of their being or happiness. Thus the being and welfare of a man's children producing constant delight in him, he is said constantly to love them.

The uneasiness a man feels on the absence of any thing, is that we call desire; and the chief, if not the only spur to human industry, is uneasiness. For whatever good be proposed, if its absence carries no pain with it, there is no endeavor after it, there is but a bare velleity,—a term signifying the lowest degree of desire, and that which is next to none. Desire is also abated by the opinion of the unattainableness of the good proposed, as far as the uneasiness is allayed by that consideration.

Joy is a delight in the consideration of a present or an approaching good. Thus a man almost starved has joy at the arrival of relief, even before he has the pleasure of using it.

Sorrow is uneasiness on the thought of a good lost or the sense of a present evil.

Hope is that pleasure which every one finds in himself on the thought of a probable future enjoy

ment.

Fear is uneasiness at the thought of future evil. Despair is the thought of the unattainableness of any good.

Locke.

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Anger is uneasiness on the receipt of an injury, with a purpose of revenge.

Envy is uneasiness caused by the consideration of a good we desire obtained by one we think should not have had it before us.

These last two, envy and anger, having in them a mixed consideration of ourselves and others, are not to be found in all men, because estimation of merits and intentions of revenge are wanting in them. But the rest, terminating in pain and pleasure, are to be found in all men. All the passions are moved by things as they appear to be the causes of pleasure and pain. Thus we extend our hatred to that which has produced pain, because the fear it leaves is a constant pain but we do not so constantly love what does us good, because pleasure operates not so strongly as pain.

By pleasure and pain I mean not only bodily pain and pleasure, but whatever delight or uneasiness is felt either by sensation or reflection. It is also to be considered that the removing of pain operates as a pleasure, and the diminishing of a pleasure as a pain.

Most of the passions too cause various changes in the body, which changes not being always sensible, do not make a necessary part of the idea of each passion. For shame, which is an uneasiness at the thought of something which will lessen the esteem which others have for us, has not always blushing accompanying it.

I do not mean this as a discourse on the passions; there are more than I have named, and each of those I have noticed would require a much larger discourse. I have merely attempted to show how the ideas we have of them are derived from sensation and reflection.