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An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding. (1748)

Sect. II. Of the Origin of Ideas

David Hume.

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An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding.

David Hume.

Sect. II. Of the Origin of Ideas
  11. Every one will readily allow, that there is a considerable
difference between the perceptions of the mind, when a man feels the
pain of excessive heat, or the pleasure of moderate warmth, and when
he afterwards recalls to his memory this sensation, or anticipates
it by his imagination. These faculties may mimic or copy the
perceptions of the senses; but they never can entirely reach the force
and vivacity of the original sentiment. The utmost we say of them,
even when they operate with greatest vigour, is, that they represent
their object in so lively a manner, that we could almost say we feel
or see it: But, except the mind be disordered by disease or madness,
they never can arrive at such a pitch of vivacity, as to render
these perceptions altogether undistinguishable. All the colours of
poetry, however splendid, can never paint natural objects in such a
manner as to make the description be taken for a real landskip. The
most lively thought is still inferior to the dullest sensation.

  We may observe a like distinction to run through all the other
perceptions of the mind. A man in a fit of anger, is actuated in a
very different manner from one who only thinks of that emotion. If you
tell me, that any person is in love, I easily understand your meaning,
and form a just conception of his situation; but never can mistake
that conception for the real disorders and agitations of the
passion. When we reflect on our past sentiments and affections, our
thought is a faithful mirror, and copies its objects truly; but the
colours which it employs are faint and dull, in comparison of those in
which our original perceptions were clothed. It requires no nice
discernment or metaphysical head to mark the distinction between them.

  12. Here therefore we may divide all the perceptions of the mind
into two classes or species, which are distinguished by their
different degrees of force and vivacity. The less forcible and
lively are commonly denominated Thoughts or Ideas. The other species
want a name in our language, and in most others; I suppose, because it
was not requisite for any, but philosophical purposes, to rank them
under a general term or appellation. Let us, therefore, use a little
freedom, and call them Impressions; employing that word in a sense
somewhat different from the usual. By the term impression, then, I
mean all our more lively perceptions, when we hear, or see, or feel,
or love, or hate, or desire, or will. And impressions are
distinguished from ideas, which are the less lively perceptions, of
which we are conscious, when we reflect on any of those sensations
or movements above mentioned.

  13. Nothing, at first view, may seem more unbounded than the thought
of man, which not only escapes all human power and authority, but is
not even restrained within the limits of nature and reality. To form
monsters, and join incongruous shapes and appearances, costs the
imagination no more trouble than to conceive the most natural and
familiar objects. And while the body is confined to one planet,
along which it creeps with pain and difficulty; the thought can in
an instant transport us into the most distant regions of the universe;
or even beyond the universe, into the unbounded chaos, where nature is
supposed to lie in total confusion. What never was seen, or heard
of, may yet be conceived; nor is any thing beyond the power of
thought, except what implies an absolute contradiction.

  But though our thought seems to possess this unbounded liberty, we
shall find, upon a nearer examination, that it is really confined
within very narrow limits, and that all this creative power of the
mind amounts to no more than the faculty of compounding,
transposing, augmenting, or diminishing the materials afforded us by
the senses and experience. When we think of a golden mountain, we only
join two consistent ideas, gold, and mountain, with which we were
formerly acquainted. A virtuous horse we can conceive; because, from
our own feeling, we can conceive virtue; and this we may unite to
the figure and shape of a horse, which is an animal familiar to us. In
short, all the materials of thinking are derived either from our
outward or inward sentiment: the mixture and composition of these
belongs alone to the mind and will. Or, to express myself in
philosophical language, all our ideas or more feeble perceptions are
copies of our impressions or more lively ones.

  14. To prove this, the two following arguments will, I hope, be
sufficient. First, when we analyze our thoughts or ideas, however
compounded or sublime, we always find that they resolve themselves
into such simple ideas as were copied from a precedent feeling or
sentiment. Even those ideas, which, at first view, seem the most
wide of this origin, are found, upon a nearer scrutiny, to be
derived from it. The idea of God, as meaning an infinitely
intelligent, wise, and good Being, arises from reflecting on the
operations of our own mind, and augmenting, without limit, those
qualities of goodness and wisdom. We may prosecute this enquiry to
what length we please; where we shall always find, that every idea
which we examine is copied from a similar impression. Those who
would assert that this position is not universally true nor without
exception, have only one, and that an easy method of refuting it; by
producing that idea, which, in their opinion, is not derived from this
source. It will then be incumbent on us, if we would maintain our
doctrine, to produce the impression, or lively perception, which
corresponds to it.

  15. Secondly. If it happen, from a defect of the organ, that a man
is not susceptible of any species of sensation, we always find that he
is as little susceptible of the correspondent ideas. A blind man can
form no notion of colours; a deaf man of sounds. Restore either of
them that sense in which he is deficient; by opening this new inlet
for his sensations, you also open an inlet for the ideas; and he finds
no difficulty in conceiving these objects. The case is the same, if
the object, proper for exciting any sensation, has never been
applied to the organ. A Laplander or Negro has no notion of the relish
of wine. And though there are few or no instances of a like deficiency
in the mind, where a person has never felt or is wholly incapable of a
sentiment or passion that belongs to his species; yet we find the same
observation to take place in a less degree. A man of mild manners
can form no idea of inveterate revenge or cruelty; nor can a selfish
heart easily conceive the heights of friendship and generosity. It
is readily allowed, that other beings may possess many senses of which
we can have no conception; because the ideas of them have never been
introduced to us in the only manner by which an idea can have access
to the mind, to wit, by the actual feeling and sensation.

  16. There is, however, one contradictory phenomenon, which may prove
that it is not absolutely impossible for ideas to arise, independent
of their correspondent impressions. I believe it will readily be
allowed, that the several distinct ideas of colour, which enter by the
eye, or those of sound, which are conveyed by the ear, are really
different from each other; though, at the same time, resembling. Now
if this be true of different colours, it must be no less so of the
different shades of the same colour; and each shade produces a
distinct idea, independent of the rest. For if this should be
denied, it is possible, by the continual gradation of shades, to run a
colour insensibly into what is most remote from it; and if you will
not allow any of the means to be different, you cannot, without
absurdity, deny the extremes to be the same. Suppose, therefore, a
person to have enjoyed his sight for thirty years, and to have
become perfectly acquainted with colours of all kinds except one
particular shade of blue, for instance, which it never has been his
fortune to meet with. Let all the different shades of that colour,
except that single one, be placed before him, descending gradually
from the deepest to the lightest; it is plain that he will perceive
a blank, where that shade is wanting, and will be sensible that
there is a greater distance in that place between the contiguous
colours than in any other. Now I ask, whether it be possible for
him, from his own imagination, to supply this deficiency, and raise up
to himself the idea of that particular shade, though it had never been
conveyed to him by his senses? I believe there are few but will be
of opinion that he can: and this may serve as a proof that the
simple ideas are not always, in every instance, derived from the
correspondent impressions; though this instance is so singular, that
it is scarcely worth our observing, and does not merit that for it
alone we should alter our general maxim.

  17. Here, therefore, is a proposition, which not only seems, in
itself, simple and intelligible; but, if a proper use were made of it,
might render every dispute equally intelligible, and banish all that
jargon, which has so long taken possession of metaphysical reasonings,
and drawn disgrace upon them. All ideas, especially abstract ones, are
naturally faint and obscure: the mind has but a slender hold of
them: they are apt to be confounded with other resembling ideas; and
when we have often employed any term, though without a distinct
meaning, we are apt to imagine it has a determinate idea annexed to
it. On the contrary, all impressions, that is, all sensations,
either outward or inward, are strong and vivid: the limits between
them are more exactly determined: nor is it easy to fall into any
error or mistake with regard to them. When we entertain, therefore,
any suspicion that a philosophical term is employed without any
meaning or idea (as is but too frequent), we need but enquire, from
what impression is that supposed idea derived? And if it be impossible
to assign any, this will serve to confirm our suspicion. By bringing
ideas into so clear a light we may reasonably hope to remove all
dispute, which may arise, concerning their nature and reality.*

  * It is probable that no more was meant by those, who denied
innate ideas, than that all ideas were copies of our impressions;
though it must be confessed, that the terms, which they employed, were
not chosen with such caution, nor so exactly defined, as to prevent
all mistakes about their doctrine. For what is meant by innate? If
innate be equivalent to natural, then all the perceptions and ideas of
the mind must be allowed to be innate or natural, in whatever sense we
take the latter word, whether in opposition to what is uncommon,
artificial, or miraculous. If by innate be meant, contemporary to
our birth, the dispute seems to be frivolous; nor is it worth while to
enquire at what time thinking begins, whether before, at, or after our
birth. Again, the word idea, seems to be commonly taken in a very
loose sense, by Locke and others; as standing for any of our
perceptions, our sensations and passions, as well as thoughts. Now
in this sense, I should desire to know, what can be meant by
asserting, that self-love, or resentment of injuries, or the passion
between the sexes is not innate?

  But admitting these terms, impressions and ideas, in the sense above
explained, and understanding by innate, what is original or copied
from no precedent perception, then may we assert that all our
impressions are innate, and our ideas not innate.

  To be ingenuous, I must own it to be my opinion, that Locke was
betrayed into this question by the Schoolmen, who, making use of
undefined terms, draw out their disputes to a tedious length,
without ever touching the point in question. A like ambiguity and
circumlocution seem to run through that Philosopher's reasonings on
this as well as most other subjects.

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