Considerations Concerning the First Formation of Languages
{"WorkMasterId":4695,"WpPageId":238248,"ParentWpPageId":193807,"Slug":"considerations-concerning-the-first-formation-of-languages","Url":"https://chrisdeasy.com/theos/humanities/philosophy/philosophers/adam-smith/considerations-concerning-the-first-formation-of-languages/","RelativeUrl":"theos/humanities/philosophy/philosophers/adam-smith/considerations-concerning-the-first-formation-of-languages/","HasFullText":true,"RawHtmlLength":392458,"CleanHtmlLength":336348,"Kicker":"Philosophy Work","Title":"Considerations Concerning the First Formation of Languages","Deck":"Explains language as a gradual social invention shaped by human needs, abstraction, classification, and shared conventions.","BackLink":{"Text":"Back to Adam Smith","Url":"https://chrisdeasy.com/theos/humanities/philosophy/philosophers/adam-smith/"},"AuthorCard":{"Label":"Author","Title":"Adam Smith","Url":"https://chrisdeasy.com/theos/humanities/philosophy/philosophers/adam-smith/","MediaHref":"","ImageSrc":"https://chrisdeasy.com/wp-content/uploads/adam-smith-01-muir-portrait.jpg","ImageAlt":"Muir Portrait of Adam Smith","FilterTerra":"Western Europe","ClickText":"Adam Smith","ClickHref":"https://chrisdeasy.com/theos/humanities/philosophy/philosophers/adam-smith/","Copies":["1723 CE – 1790 CE","Kirkcaldy, Fife","Scottish philosopher from Kirkcaldy, Fife associated with epistemology, ethics, and political philosophy."]},"ContextCards":[{"Label":"Period","Key":"Period:3","Title":"Early Modern History","DateText":"1500 CE – 1799 CE","Url":"https://chrisdeasy.com/theos/humanities/philosophy/eras-of-thought/philosophers-of-early-modern-history/"},{"Label":"Era","Key":"Era:9","Title":"Enlightenment and Proto-Industrial","DateText":"1700 CE – 1799 CE","Url":"https://chrisdeasy.com/theos/humanities/philosophy/eras-of-thought/philosophers-of-early-modern-history/philosophers-of-the-enlightenment-and-proto-industrial/"},{"Label":"Composition","Title":"1761 CE","Url":"","DateText":""}],"DateNote":"","GeoCards":[{"Label":"Region","Key":"Region:1"},{"Label":"Terra Avita","Key":"TerraAvita:1"},{"Label":"Terra Avita Region","Key":"TerraAvitaRegion:2"},{"Label":"Modern Country","Key":"Country:GBR:1"}],"OriginalTitle":"Considerations Concerning the First Formation of Languages","Language":"English","DisciplineCards":[{"Label":"Primary Discipline","Key":"Discipline:philosophy-of-language"},{"Label":"Secondary Discipline","Key":"Discipline:philosophy-of-mind"}],"Tradition":"Scottish Enlightenment; conjectural history","FullText":{"Title":"Full Text","Copy":"Public-domain full text from Project Gutenberg eBook #58559 .","Url":"","Label":"","Kicker":"","Cards":[]},"CoreThesis":["Explains language as a gradual social invention shaped by human needs, abstraction, classification, and shared conventions."],"Classification":{"AlternateTitles":"First Formation of Languages; Dissertation on the Origin of Languages","KeyConcepts":"language origins, abstraction, classification, nouns, adjectives, convention, conjectural history","Methodology":"Conjectural history and philosophical grammar","Structure":"Essay"},"Arguments":["Language begins from concrete naming and develops toward abstraction, grammar, and increasingly complex social thought."],"Influence":{"InfluencedBy":"Classical grammar, Enlightenment anthropology, Scottish stadial theory","InfluenceOn":""},"Significance":["Shows Smith extending his social philosophy into language formation and the history of abstraction.","Useful for debates about language, convention, social cognition, and historical explanation."],"EvidenceNote":[],"MainSections":[{"Kind":"RawSection","Title":"Full Versions","BodyHtml":"\u003cdiv class=\"dz-philo__full-version-grid\"\u003e\n \u003carticle class=\"dz-philo__full-version-card\"\u003e\n \u003cp class=\"dz-philo__full-version-provider\"\u003eProject Gutenberg\u003c/p\u003e\n \u003ch3 class=\"dz-philo__full-version-title\"\u003eProject Gutenberg eBook #58559\u003c/h3\u003e\n \u003cp class=\"dz-philo__full-version-meta\"\u003eHtmlText · Imported\u003c/p\u003e\n \u003ca class=\"dz-philo__full-version-link\" href=\"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/58559\"\u003eOpen full version\u003c/a\u003e\n \u003c/article\u003e\n \u003c/div\u003e"},{"Kind":"TextSection","Title":"Core Thesis","Paragraphs":["Explains language as a gradual social invention shaped by human needs, abstraction, classification, and shared conventions."]},{"Kind":"FieldSection","Title":"Classification","Fields":[{"Label":"Alternate Titles","Value":"First Formation of Languages; Dissertation on the Origin of Languages"},{"Label":"Key Concepts","Value":"language origins, abstraction, classification, nouns, adjectives, convention, conjectural history"},{"Label":"Methodology","Value":"Conjectural history and philosophical grammar"},{"Label":"Structure","Value":"Essay"}]},{"Kind":"TextSection","Title":"Arguments","Paragraphs":["Language begins from concrete naming and develops toward abstraction, grammar, and increasingly complex social thought."]},{"Kind":"FieldSection","Title":"Influence","Fields":[{"Label":"Influenced By","Value":"Classical grammar, Enlightenment anthropology, Scottish stadial theory"},{"Label":"Influence On","Value":"Philosophy of language, conjectural history, Scottish Enlightenment accounts of social development"}]},{"Kind":"TextSection","Title":"Significance","Paragraphs":["Shows Smith extending his social philosophy into language formation and the history of abstraction.","Useful for debates about language, convention, social cognition, and historical explanation."]},{"Kind":"RawSection","Title":"Full Text","BodyHtml":"\u003cp class=\"dz-philo__section-copy dz-philo__full-text-source\"\u003ePublic-domain full text from \u003ca href=\"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/58559\"\u003eProject Gutenberg eBook #58559\u003c/a\u003e.\u003c/p\u003e\n \u003carticle class=\"dz-philo__full-text-body\"\u003e\r\n\u003ch2 id=\"B\"\u003eCONSIDERATIONS\u003c/h2\u003e\r\n\u003ch5\u003eCONCERNING THE FIRST\u003c/h5\u003e\r\n\u003ch2\u003eFORMATION OF LANGUAGES, E\u003cspan class=\"smcap\"\u003eTC.\u003c/span\u003e, E\u003cspan class=\"smcap\"\u003eTC\u003c/span\u003e.\u003c/h2\u003e\r\n\u003cp class=\"noind\"\u003eT\u003cspan class=\"smcap\"\u003eHE\u003c/span\u003e assignation of particular names to denote particular objects,\r\nthat is, the institution of nouns substantive, would, probably, be one\r\nof the first steps towards the formation of language. Two savages, who\r\nhad never been taught to speak, but had been bred up remote from the\r\nsocieties of men, would naturally begin to form that language by which\r\nthey would endeavour to make their mutual wants intelligible to each\r\nother, by uttering certain sounds, whenever they meant to denote\r\ncertain objects. Those objects only which were most familiar to them,\r\nand which they had most frequent occasion to mention would have\r\nparticular names assigned to them. The particular cave whose covering\r\nsheltered them from the weather, the particular tree whose fruit\r\nrelieved their hunger, the particular fountain whose water allayed\r\ntheir thirst, would first be denominated by the words \u003ci\u003ecave\u003c/i\u003e,\r\n\u003ci\u003etree\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003efountain\u003c/i\u003e, or by whatever other appellations they\r\nmight think proper, in that primitive jargon, to mark them.\r\nAfterwards, when the more enlarged experience of these savages had led\r\nthem to observe, and their necessary occasions obliged them to make\r\nmention of other caves, and other trees, and other fountains, they\r\nwould naturally bestow, upon each of those new objects, the same name,\r\nby which they had been accustomed to express the similar objects they\r\nwere first acquainted with. The new objects had none of them any name\r\nof its own, but each of them exactly resembled another object, which\r\nhad such an appellation. It was impossible that those savages could\r\nbehold the new objects, without recollecting the old ones; and the\r\nname of the old ones, to which the new bore so close a resemblance.\r\nWhen they had occasion, therefore, to mention or to point out to each\r\nother, any of the new objects, they would naturally utter the name of\r\nthe correspondent old one, of which the idea could not fail, at that\r\ninstant, to present itself to their memory in the strongest and\r\nliveliest manner. And thus, those words, which were originally the\r\nproper names of individuals, would each of them insensibly become the\r\ncommon name of a multitude. A child that is just learning to speak,\r\ncalls every person who comes to the house its papa or its mamma; and\r\nthus bestows upon the whole species those names which it had been\r\ntaught to apply to two individuals. I have \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page306\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e306\u003c/span\u003e known a clown, who\r\ndid not know the proper name of the river which ran by his own door.\r\nIt was \u003ci\u003ethe river\u003c/i\u003e, he said, and he never heard any other name\r\nfor it. His experience, it seems, had not led him to observe any other\r\nriver. The general word \u003ci\u003eriver\u003c/i\u003e, therefore, was, it is evident,\r\nin his acceptance of it, a proper name, signifying an individual\r\nobject. If this person had been carried to another river, would he not\r\nreadily have called it a river? Could we suppose any person living on\r\nthe banks of the Thames so ignorant as not to know the general word\r\n\u003ci\u003eriver\u003c/i\u003e but to be acquainted only with the particular word\r\n\u003ci\u003eThames\u003c/i\u003e, if he was brought to any other river, would he not\r\nreadily call it \u003ci\u003ea Thames\u003c/i\u003e? This, in reality, is no more than\r\nwhat they, who are well acquainted with the general word, are very apt\r\nto do. An Englishman, describing any great river which he may have\r\nseen in some foreign country, naturally says, that it is another\r\nThames. The Spaniards, when they first arrived upon the coast of\r\nMexico, and observed the wealth, populousness, and habitations of that\r\nfine country, so much superior to the savage nations which they had\r\nbeen visiting for some time before, cried out, that it was another\r\nSpain. Hence it was called New Spain; and this name has stuck to that\r\nunfortunate country ever since. We say, in the same manner, of a hero,\r\nthat he is an Alexander; of an orator, that he is a Cicero; of a\r\nphilosopher, that he is a Newton. This way of speaking, which the\r\ngrammarians call an Antonomasia, and which is still extremely common,\r\nthough now not at all necessary, demonstrates how mankind are disposed\r\nto give to one object the name of any other, which nearly resembles\r\nit, and thus to denominate a multitude, by what originally was\r\nintended to express an individual.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIt is this application of the name of an individual to a great\r\nmultitude of objects, whose resemblance naturally recalls the idea of\r\nthat individual, and of the name which expresses it, that seems\r\noriginally to have given occasion to the formation of those classes\r\nand assortments, which, in the schools, are called genera and species,\r\nand of which the ingenious and eloquent M. Rousseau of Geneva finds\r\nhimself so much at a loss to account for the origin. What constitutes\r\na species is merely a number of objects, bearing a certain degree of\r\nresemblance to one another, and on that account denominated by a\r\nsingle appellation, which may be applied to express any one of\r\nthem.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWhen the greater part of objects had thus been arranged under their\r\nproper classes and assortments, distinguished by such general names,\r\nit was impossible that the greater part of that almost infinite number\r\nof individuals, comprehended under each particular assortment or\r\nspecies, could have any peculiar or proper names of their own,\r\ndistinct from the general name of the species. When there was\r\noccasion, therefore, to mention any particular object, it often became\r\nnecessary to distinguish it from the other objects comprehended under\r\nthe same general name, either, first, by its peculiar qualities; or,\r\nsecondly, by the \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page307\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e307\u003c/span\u003e peculiar relation which it stood in to some\r\nother things. Hence the necessary origin of two other sets of words,\r\nof which the one should express quality; the other, relation.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eNouns adjective are the words which express quality considered as\r\nqualifying, or, as the schoolmen say, in concrete with, some\r\nparticular subject. Thus the word \u003ci\u003egreen\u003c/i\u003e expresses a certain\r\nquality considered as qualifying, or as in concrete with, the\r\nparticular subject to which it may be applied. Words of this kind, it\r\nis evident, may serve to distinguish particular objects from others\r\ncomprehended under the same general appellation. The words \u003ci\u003egreen\r\ntree\u003c/i\u003e, for example, might serve to distinguish a particular tree\r\nfrom others that were withered or that were blasted.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003ePrepositions are the words which express relation considered, in\r\nthe same manner, in concrete with the co-relative object. Thus the\r\nprepositions \u003ci\u003eof\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eto\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003efor\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003ewith\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eby\u003c/i\u003e,\r\n\u003ci\u003eabove\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003ebelow\u003c/i\u003e, \u0026amp;c., denote some relation subsisting\r\nbetween the objects expressed by the words between which the\r\nprepositions are placed; and they denote that this relation is\r\nconsidered in concrete with the co-relative object. Words of this kind\r\nserve to distinguish particular objects from others of the same\r\nspecies, when those particular objects cannot be so properly marked\r\nout by any peculiar qualities of their own. When we say, \u003ci\u003ethe green\r\ntree of the meadow\u003c/i\u003e, for example, we distinguish a particular tree,\r\nnot only by the quality which belongs to it, but by the relation which\r\nit stands in to another object.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eAs neither quality nor relation can exist in abstract, it is\r\nnatural to suppose that the words which denote them considered in\r\nconcrete, the way in which we always see them subsist, would be of\r\nmuch earlier invention than those which express them considered in\r\nabstract, the way in which we never see them subsist. The words\r\n\u003ci\u003egreen\u003c/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eblue\u003c/i\u003e would, in all probability, be sooner\r\ninvented than the words \u003ci\u003egreenness\u003c/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eblueness\u003c/i\u003e; the\r\nwords \u003ci\u003eabove\u003c/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003ebelow\u003c/i\u003e, than the words \u003ci\u003esuperiority\u003c/i\u003e\r\nand \u003ci\u003einferiority\u003c/i\u003e. To invent words of the latter kind requires a\r\nmuch greater effort of abstraction than to invent those of the former.\r\nIt is probable therefore, that such abstract terms would be of much\r\nlater institution. Accordingly, their etymologies generally show that\r\nthey are so, they being generally derived from others that are\r\nconcrete.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eBut though the invention of nouns adjective be much more natural\r\nthan that of the abstract nouns substantive derived from them, it\r\nwould still, however, require a considerable degree of abstraction and\r\ngeneralization. Those, for example, who first invented the words\r\n\u003ci\u003egreen\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eblue\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003ered\u003c/i\u003e, and the other names of colours,\r\nmust have observed and compared together a great number of objects,\r\nmust have remarked their resemblances and dissimilitudes in respect of\r\nthe quality of colour, and must have arranged them, in their own\r\nminds, into different classes and assortments, according to those\r\nresemblances and \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page308\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e308\u003c/span\u003e dissimilitudes. An adjective is by nature a\r\ngeneral, and in some measure an abstract word, and necessarily\r\npre-supposes the idea of a certain species or assortment of things, to\r\nall of which it is equally applicable. The word \u003ci\u003egreen\u003c/i\u003e could\r\nnot, as we were supposing might be the case of the word \u003ci\u003ecave\u003c/i\u003e,\r\nhave been originally the name of an individual, and afterwards have\r\nbecome, by what grammarians call an Antonomasia, the name of a\r\nspecies. The word \u003ci\u003egreen\u003c/i\u003e denoting, not the name of a substance,\r\nbut the peculiar quality of a substance, must from the very first have\r\nbeen a general word, and considered as equally applicable to any other\r\nsubstance possessed of the same quality. The man who first\r\ndistinguished a particular object by the epithet of \u003ci\u003egreen\u003c/i\u003e, must\r\nhave observed other objects that were not \u003ci\u003egreen\u003c/i\u003e, from which he\r\nmeant to separate it by this appellation. The institution of this\r\nname, therefore, supposes comparison. It likewise supposes some degree\r\nof abstraction. The person who first invented this appellation must\r\nhave distinguished the quality from the object to which it belonged,\r\nand must have conceived the object as capable of subsisting without\r\nthe quality. The invention, therefore, even of the simplest nouns\r\nadjective must have required more metaphysics than we are apt to be\r\naware of. The different mental operations, of arrangement or classing,\r\nof comparison, and of abstraction, must all have been employed, before\r\neven the names of the different colours, the least metaphysical of all\r\nnouns adjective, could be instituted. From all which I infer, that\r\nwhen languages were beginning to be formed, nouns adjective would by\r\nno means be the words of the earliest invention.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThere is nothing expedient for denoting the different qualities of\r\ndifferent substance, which as it requires no abstraction, nor any\r\nconceived separation of the quality from the subject, seems more\r\nnatural than the invention of nouns adjective, and which, upon this\r\naccount, could hardly fail, in the first formation of language, to be\r\nthought of before them. This expedient is to make some variation upon\r\nthe noun substantive itself, according to the different qualities\r\nwhich it is endowed with. Thus in many languages, the qualities both\r\nof sex and of the want of sex are expressed by different terminations\r\nin the nouns substantive, which denote objects so qualified. In Latin,\r\nfor example, \u003ci\u003elupus\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003elupa\u003c/i\u003e; \u003ci\u003eequus\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eequa\u003c/i\u003e;\r\n\u003ci\u003ejuvencus\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003ejuvenca\u003c/i\u003e; \u003ci\u003eJulius\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eJulia\u003c/i\u003e;\r\n\u003ci\u003eLucretius\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eLucretia\u003c/i\u003e, \u0026amp;c., denote the qualities of male\r\nand female in the animals and persons to whom such appellations\r\nbelong, without needing the addition of any adjective for this\r\npurpose. On the other hand, the words, \u003ci\u003eforum\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003epratum\u003c/i\u003e,\r\n\u003ci\u003eplaustrum\u003c/i\u003e, denote by their peculiar termination the total\r\nabsence of sex in the different substances which they stand for. Both\r\nsex, and the want of all sex, being naturally considered as qualities\r\nmodifying and inseparable from the particular substances to which they\r\nbelong, it was natural to express them rather by a modification in the\r\nnoun substantive, than by any general and abstract word \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page309\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e309\u003c/span\u003e\r\nexpressive of this particular species of quality. The expression\r\nbears, it is evident, in this way, a much more exact analogy to the\r\nidea or object which it denotes than in the other. The quality\r\nappears, in nature, as a modification of the substance, and as it is\r\nthus expressed in language, by a modification of the noun substantive,\r\nwhich denotes that substance, the quality and the subject are, in this\r\ncase, blended together, if I may say so, in the expression, in the\r\nsame manner as they appear to be in the object and in the idea. Hence\r\nthe origin of the masculine, feminine, and neutral genders, in all the\r\nancient languages. By means of these, the most important of all\r\ndistinctions, that of substances into animated and inanimated, and\r\nthat of animals into male and female, seem to have been sufficiently\r\nmarked without the assistance of adjectives, or of any general names\r\ndenoting this most extensive species of qualifications.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThere are no more than these three genders in any of the languages\r\nwith which I am acquainted; that is to say, the formation of nouns\r\nsubstantive can, by itself, and without the accompaniment of\r\nadjectives, express no other qualities but those three above\r\nmentioned, the qualities of male, of female, of neither male nor\r\nfemale. I should not, however, be surprised, if, in other languages\r\nwith which I am unacquainted, the different formations of nouns\r\nsubstantive should be capable of expressing many other different\r\nqualities. The different diminutives of the Italian, and of some other\r\nlanguages, do, in reality, sometimes express a great variety of\r\ndifferent modifications in the substances denoted by those nouns which\r\nundergo such variations.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIt was impossible, however, that nouns substantive could, without\r\nlosing altogether their original form, undergo so great a number of\r\nvariations, as would be sufficient to express that almost infinite\r\nvariety of qualities, by which it might, upon different occasions, be\r\nnecessary to specify and distinguish them. Though the different\r\nformation of nouns substantive, therefore, might, for some time,\r\nforestall the necessity of inventing nouns adjective, it was\r\nimpossible that this necessity could be forestalled altogether. When\r\nnouns adjective came to be invented, it was natural that they should\r\nbe formed with some similarity to the substantives to which they were\r\nto serve as epithets or qualifications. Men would naturally give them\r\nthe same terminations with the substantives to which they were first\r\napplied, and from that love of similarity of sound, from that delight\r\nin the returns of the same syllables, which is the foundation of\r\nanalogy in all languages, they would be apt to vary the termination of\r\nthe same adjective, according as they had occasion to apply it to a\r\nmasculine, to a feminine, or to a neutral substantive. They would say,\r\n\u003ci\u003emagnus lupus\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003emagna lupa\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003emagnum pratum\u003c/i\u003e, when\r\nthey meant to express a great \u003ci\u003ehe wolf\u003c/i\u003e, a great \u003ci\u003eshe wolf\u003c/i\u003e,\r\nor a great \u003ci\u003emeadow\u003c/i\u003e.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThis variation, in the termination of the noun adjective, according\r\nto \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page310\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e310\u003c/span\u003e the gender of the substantive, which takes place in all the\r\nancient languages, seems to have been introduced chiefly for the sake\r\nof a certain similarity of sound, of a certain species of rhyme, which\r\nis naturally so very agreeable to the human ear. Gender, it is to\r\nobserved, cannot properly belong to a noun adjective, the\r\nsignification of which is always precisely the same, to whatever\r\nspecies of substantives it is applied. When we say, \u003ci\u003ea great\r\nman\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003ea great woman\u003c/i\u003e, the word \u003ci\u003egreat\u003c/i\u003e has precisely the\r\nsame meaning in both cases, and the difference of the sex in the\r\nsubjects to which it may be applied, makes no sort of difference in\r\nits signification. \u003ci\u003eMagnus\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003emagna\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003emagnum\u003c/i\u003e, in the\r\nsame manner, are words which express precisely the same quality, and\r\nthe change of the termination is accompanied with no sort of variation\r\nin the meaning. Sex and gender are qualities which belong to\r\nsubstances, but cannot belong to the qualities of substances. In\r\ngeneral, no quality, when considered in concrete, or as qualifying\r\nsome particular subject, can itself be conceived as the subject of any\r\nother quality; though when considered in abstract it may. No adjective\r\ntherefore can qualify any other adjective. A \u003ci\u003egreat good man\u003c/i\u003e,\r\nmeans a man who is both \u003ci\u003egreat\u003c/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003egood\u003c/i\u003e. Both the\r\nadjectives qualify the substantive; they do not qualify one another.\r\nOn the other hand, when we say, the \u003ci\u003egreat goodness\u003c/i\u003e of the man,\r\nthe word \u003ci\u003egoodness\u003c/i\u003e denoting a quality considered in abstract,\r\nwhich may itself be the subject of other qualities, is upon that\r\naccount capable of being qualified by the word \u003ci\u003egreat\u003c/i\u003e.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIf the original invention of nouns adjective would be attended with\r\nso much difficulty, that of prepositions would be accompanied with yet\r\nmore. Every preposition, as I have already observed, denotes some\r\nrelation considered in concrete with the co-relative object. The\r\npreposition \u003ci\u003eabove\u003c/i\u003e, for example, denotes the relation of\r\nsuperiority, not in abstract, as it is expressed by the word\r\n\u003ci\u003esuperiority\u003c/i\u003e, but in concrete with some co-relative object. In\r\nthis phrase, for example, \u003ci\u003ethe tree above the cave\u003c/i\u003e, the word\r\n\u003ci\u003eabove\u003c/i\u003e expresses a certain relation between the \u003ci\u003etree\u003c/i\u003e and\r\nthe \u003ci\u003ecave\u003c/i\u003e, and it expresses this relation in concrete with the\r\nco-relative object, \u003ci\u003ethe cave\u003c/i\u003e. A preposition always requires, in\r\norder to complete the sense, some other word to come after it; as may\r\nbe observed in this particular instance. Now, I say, the original\r\ninvention of such words would require a yet greater effort of\r\nabstraction and generalization, than that of nouns adjective. First of\r\nall, the relation is, in itself, a more metaphysical object than a\r\nquality. Nobody can be at a loss to explain what is meant by a\r\nquality; but few people will find themselves able to express, very\r\ndistinctly, what is understood by a relation. Qualities are almost\r\nalways the objects of our external senses; relations never are. No\r\nwonder therefore, that the one set of objects should be so much more\r\ncomprehensible than the other. Secondly, though prepositions always\r\nexpress the relation which they stand for, in concrete with the\r\nco-relative object, they could not have \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page311\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e311\u003c/span\u003e originally been formed\r\nwithout a considerable effort of abstraction. A preposition denotes\r\na relation, and nothing but a relation. But before men could institute\r\na word, which signified a relation, and nothing but a relation, they\r\nmust have been able, in some measure, to consider this relation\r\nabstractedly from the related objects; since the idea of those objects\r\ndoes not, in any respect, enter into the signification of the\r\npreposition. The invention of such a word, therefore, must have\r\nrequired a considerable degree of abstraction. Thirdly, a preposition\r\nis from its nature a general word, which, from its very first\r\ninstitution, must have been considered as equally applicable to denote\r\nany other similar relation. The man who first invented the word\r\n\u003ci\u003eabove\u003c/i\u003e, must not only have distinguished, in some measure, the\r\nrelation of \u003ci\u003esuperiority\u003c/i\u003e from the objects which were so related,\r\nbut he must also have distinguished this relation from other\r\nrelations, such as, from the relation of \u003ci\u003einferiority\u003c/i\u003e denoted by\r\nthe word \u003ci\u003ebelow\u003c/i\u003e, from the relation of \u003ci\u003ejuxta-position\u003c/i\u003e,\r\nexpressed by the word \u003ci\u003ebeside\u003c/i\u003e, and the like. He must have\r\nconceived this word, therefore, as expressive of a particular sort or\r\nspecies of relation distinct from every other, which could not be done\r\nwithout a considerable effort of comparison and generalization.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWhatever were the difficulties, therefore, which embarrassed the\r\nfirst invention of nouns adjective, the same, and many more, must have\r\nembarrassed that of prepositions. If mankind, therefore, in the first\r\nformation of languages, seem to have, for some time, evaded the\r\nnecessity of nouns adjective, by varying the termination of the names\r\nof substances, according as these varied in some of their most\r\nimportant qualities, they would much more find themselves under the\r\nnecessity of evading, by some similar contrivance, the yet more\r\ndifficult invention of prepositions. The different cases in the\r\nancient languages is a contrivance of precisely the same kind. The\r\ngenitive and dative cases, in Greek and Latin, evidently supply the\r\nplace of the prepositions; and by a variation in the noun substantive,\r\nwhich stands for the co-relative term, express the relation which\r\nsubsists between what is denoted by that noun substantive, and what is\r\nexpressed by some other word in the sentence. In these expressions,\r\nfor example, \u003ci\u003efructus arboris\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003ethe fruit of the tree\u003c/i\u003e;\r\n\u003ci\u003esacer Herculi\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003esacred to Hercules\u003c/i\u003e; the variations made\r\nin the co-relative words, arbor and Hercules, express the same\r\nrelations which are expressed in English by the prepositions \u003ci\u003eof\u003c/i\u003e\r\nand \u003ci\u003eto\u003c/i\u003e.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eTo express a relation in this manner, did not require any effort of\r\nabstraction. It was not here expressed by a peculiar word denoting\r\nrelation and nothing but relation, but by a variation upon the\r\nco-relative term. It was expressed here, as it appears in nature, not\r\nas something separated and detached, but as thoroughly mixed and\r\nblended with the co-relative object.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eTo express relation in this manner, did not require any effort of\r\ngeneralization. The words \u003ci\u003earboris\u003c/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eHerculi\u003c/i\u003e, while\r\nthey involve in \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page312\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e312\u003c/span\u003e their signification the same relation expressed\r\nby the English prepositions \u003ci\u003eof\u003c/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eto\u003c/i\u003e, are not, like\r\nthose prepositions, general words, which can be applied to express the\r\nsame relation between whatever other objects it might be observed to\r\nsubsist.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eTo express relation in this manner did not require any effort of\r\ncomparison. The words \u003ci\u003earboris\u003c/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eHerculi\u003c/i\u003e are not\r\ngeneral words intended to denote a particular species of relations\r\nwhich the inventors of those expressions meant, in consequence of some\r\nsort of comparison, to separate and distinguish from every other sort\r\nof relation. The example, indeed, of this contrivance would soon\r\nprobably be followed, and whoever had occasion to express a similar\r\nrelation between any other objects would be very apt to do it by\r\nmaking a similar variation on the name of the co-relative object.\r\nThis, I say, would probably, or rather certainly happen; but it would\r\nhappen without any intention or foresight in those who first set the\r\nexample, and who never meant to establish any general rule. The\r\ngeneral rule would establish itself insensibly, and by slow degrees,\r\nin consequence of that love of analogy and similarity of sound, which\r\nis the foundation of by far the greater part of the rules of\r\ngrammar.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eTo express relation, therefore, by a variation in the name of the\r\nco-relative object, requiring neither abstraction, nor generalization,\r\nnor comparison of any kind, would, at first, be much more natural and\r\neasy, than to express it by those general words called prepositions,\r\nof of which the first invention must have demanded some degree of all\r\nthose operations.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe number of cases is different in different languages. There are\r\nfive in the Greek, six in the Latin, and there are said to be ten in\r\nthe Armenian language. It must have naturally happened that there\r\nshould be a greater or a smaller number of cases, according as in the\r\nterminations of nouns substantive the first formers of any language\r\nhappened to have established a greater or a smaller number of\r\nvariations, in order to express the different relations they had\r\noccasion to take notice of, before the invention of those more general\r\nand abstract prepositions which could supply their place.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIt is, perhaps, worth while to observe that those prepositions,\r\nwhich in modern languages hold the place of the ancient cases, are, of\r\nall others, the most general, and abstract, and metaphysical; and of\r\nconsequence, would probably be the last invented. Ask any man of\r\ncommon acuteness, What relation is expressed by the preposition\r\n\u003ci\u003eabove\u003c/i\u003e? He will readily answer, that of \u003ci\u003esuperiority\u003c/i\u003e. By\r\nthe preposition \u003ci\u003ebelow\u003c/i\u003e? He will as quickly reply that of\r\n\u003ci\u003einferiority\u003c/i\u003e. But ask him, what relation is expressed by the\r\npreposition \u003ci\u003eof\u003c/i\u003e, and, if he has not beforehand employed his\r\nthoughts a good deal upon these subjects, you may safely allow him a\r\nweek to consider of his answer. The prepositions \u003ci\u003eabove\u003c/i\u003e and\r\n\u003ci\u003ebelow\u003c/i\u003e do not denote any of the relations expressed by the cases\r\nin the \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page313\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e313\u003c/span\u003e ancient languages. But the preposition \u003ci\u003eof\u003c/i\u003e, denotes the\r\nsame relation, which is in them expressed by the genitive case; and\r\nwhich, it is easy to observe, is of a very metaphysical nature. The\r\npreposition \u003ci\u003eof\u003c/i\u003e, denotes relation in general, considered in\r\nconcrete with the co-relative object. It marks that the noun\r\nsubstantive which goes before it, is somehow or other related to that\r\nwhich comes after it, but without in any respect ascertaining, as is\r\ndone by the preposition \u003ci\u003eabove\u003c/i\u003e, what is the peculiar nature of\r\nthat relation. We often apply it, therefore, to express the most\r\nopposite relations; because, the most opposite relations agree so far\r\nthat each of them comprehends in it the general idea or nature of a\r\nrelation. We say, \u003ci\u003ethe father of the son\u003c/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003ethe son of the\r\nfather\u003c/i\u003e; \u003ci\u003ethe fir-trees of the forest\u003c/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003ethe forest of\r\nthe fir-trees\u003c/i\u003e. The relation in which the father stands to the son\r\nis, it is evident, a quite opposite relation to that in which the son\r\nstands to the father; that in which the parts stand to the whole, is\r\nquite opposite to that in which the whole stands to the parts. The\r\nword \u003ci\u003eof\u003c/i\u003e, however, serves very well to denote all those\r\nrelations, because in itself it denotes no particular relation, but\r\nonly relation in general; and so far as any particular relation is\r\ncollected from such expressions, it is inferred by the mind, not from\r\nthe preposition itself, but from the nature and arrangement of the\r\nsubstantives, between which the preposition is placed.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWhat I have said concerning the preposition \u003ci\u003eof\u003c/i\u003e, may in some\r\nmeasure be applied to the prepositions \u003ci\u003eto\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003efor\u003c/i\u003e,\r\n\u003ci\u003ewith\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eby\u003c/i\u003e, and to whatever other prepositions are made\r\nuse of in modern languages, to supply the place of the ancient cases.\r\nThey all of them express very abstract and metaphysical relations,\r\nwhich any man, who takes the trouble to try it, will find it extremely\r\ndifficult to express by nouns substantive, in the same manner as we\r\nmay express the relation denoted by the preposition \u003ci\u003eabove\u003c/i\u003e, by\r\nthe noun substantive \u003ci\u003esuperiority\u003c/i\u003e. They all of them, however,\r\nexpress some specific relation, and are, consequently, none of them so\r\nabstract as the preposition \u003ci\u003eof\u003c/i\u003e, which may be regarded as by far\r\nthe most metaphysical of all prepositions. The prepositions,\r\ntherefore, which are capable of supplying the place of the ancient\r\ncases, being more abstract than the other prepositions, would\r\nnaturally be of more difficult invention. The relations at the same\r\ntime which those prepositions express, are, of all others, those which\r\nwe have most frequent occasion to mention. The prepositions\r\n\u003ci\u003eabove\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003ebelow\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003enear\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003ewithin\u003c/i\u003e,\r\n\u003ci\u003ewithout\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eagainst\u003c/i\u003e, \u0026amp;c., are much more rarely made use of,\r\nin modern languages, than the prepositions \u003ci\u003eof\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eto\u003c/i\u003e,\r\n\u003ci\u003efor\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003ewith\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003efrom\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eby\u003c/i\u003e. A preposition of the\r\nformer kind will not occur twice in a page; we can scarce compose a\r\nsingle sentence without the assistance of one or two of the latter. If\r\nthese latter prepositions, therefore, which supply the place of the\r\ncases, would be of such difficult invention on account of their\r\nabstractedness, some expedient to supply their place must have been of\r\nindispensable necessity, on account of the frequent occasion \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page314\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e314\u003c/span\u003e\r\nwhich men have to take notice of the relations which they denote. But\r\nthere is no expedient so obvious, as that of varying the termination\r\nof one of the principal words.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIt is, perhaps, unnecessary to observe, that there are some of the\r\ncases in the ancient languages, which, for particular reasons, cannot\r\nbe represented by any prepositions. These are the nominative,\r\naccusative, and vocative cases. In those modern languages, which do\r\nnot admit of any such variety in the terminations of their nouns\r\nsubstantive, the correspondent relations are expressed by the place of\r\nthe words, and by the order and construction of the sentence.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eAs men have frequently occasion to make mention of multitudes as\r\nwell as of single objects, it became necessary that they should have\r\nsome method of expressing number. Number may be expressed either by a\r\nparticular word, expressing number in general, such as the words\r\n\u003ci\u003emany\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003emore\u003c/i\u003e, \u0026amp;c., or by some variation upon the words\r\nwhich express the things numbered. It is this last expedient which\r\nmankind would probably have recourse to, in the infancy of language.\r\nNumber, considered in general, without relation to any particular set\r\nof objects numbered, is one of the most abstract and metaphysical\r\nideas, which the mind of man is capable of forming; and, consequently,\r\nis not an idea, which would readily occur to rude mortals, who were\r\njust beginning to form a language. They would naturally, therefore,\r\ndistinguish when they talked of a single, and when they talked of a\r\nmultitude of objects, not by any metaphysical adjectives, such as the\r\nEnglish \u003ci\u003ea\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003ean\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003emany\u003c/i\u003e, but by a variation upon the\r\ntermination of the word which signified the objects numbered. Hence\r\nthe origin of the singular and plural numbers, in all the ancient\r\nlanguages; and the same distinction has likewise been retained in all\r\nthe modern languages, at least, in the greater part of the words.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eAll primitive and uncompounded languages seem to have a dual, as\r\nwell as a plural number. This is the case of the Greek, and I am told\r\nof the Hebrew, of the Gothic, and of many other languages. In the rude\r\nbeginnings of society, \u003ci\u003eone\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003etwo\u003c/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003emore\u003c/i\u003e, might\r\npossibly be all the numeral distinctions which mankind would have any\r\noccasion to take notice of. These they would find it more natural to\r\nexpress, by a variation upon every particular noun substantive, than\r\nby such general and abstract words as \u003ci\u003eone\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003etwo\u003c/i\u003e,\r\n\u003ci\u003ethree\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003efour\u003c/i\u003e, \u0026amp;c. These words, though custom has rendered\r\nthem familiar to us, express, perhaps, the most subtile and refined\r\nabstractions, which the mind of man is capable of forming. Let any one\r\nconsider within himself, for example, what he means by the word\r\n\u003ci\u003ethree\u003c/i\u003e, which signifies neither three shillings, nor three\r\npence, nor three men, nor three horses, but three in general; and he\r\nwill easily satisfy himself that a word, which denotes so very\r\nmetaphysical an abstraction, could not be either a very obvious or a\r\nvery early invention. I have read of some savage nations, whose\r\nlanguage \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page315\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e315\u003c/span\u003e was capable of expressing no more than the three first\r\nnumeral distinctions. But whether it expressed those distinctions by\r\nthree general words, or by variations upon the nouns substantive,\r\ndenoting the things numbered, I do not remember to have met with any\r\nthing which could clearly determine.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eAs all the same relations which subsist between single, may\r\nlikewise subsist between numerous objects, it is evident there would\r\nbe occasion for the same number of cases in the dual and in the\r\nplural, as in the singular number. Hence the intricacy and complexness\r\nof the declensions in all the ancient languages. In the Greek there\r\nare five cases in each of the three numbers, consequently fifteen in\r\nall.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eAs nouns adjective, in the ancient languages, varied their\r\nterminations according to the gender of the substantive to which they\r\nwere applied, so did they likewise according to the case and the\r\nnumber. Every noun adjective in the Greek language, therefore, having\r\nthree genders, and three numbers, and five cases in each number, may\r\nbe considered as having five and forty different variations. The first\r\nformers of language seem to have varied the termination of the\r\nadjective, according to the case and the number of the substantive,\r\nfor the same reason which made them vary it according to the gender;\r\nthe love of analogy, and of a certain regularity of sound. In the\r\nsignification of adjectives there is neither case nor number, and the\r\nmeaning of such words is always precisely the same, notwithstanding\r\nall the variety of termination under which they appear. \u003ci\u003eMagnus\r\nvir\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003emagni viri\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003emagnorum virorum\u003c/i\u003e; \u003ci\u003ea great\r\nman\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eof a great man\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eof great men\u003c/i\u003e; in all these\r\nexpressions the words, \u003ci\u003emagnus\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003emagni\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003emagnorum\u003c/i\u003e,\r\nas well as the word \u003ci\u003egreat\u003c/i\u003e, have precisely one and the same\r\nsignification, though the substantives to which they are applied have\r\nnot. The difference of termination in the noun adjective is\r\naccompanied with no sort of difference in the meaning. An adjective\r\ndenotes the qualification of a noun substantive. But the different\r\nrelations in which that noun substantive may occasionally stand, can\r\nmake no sort of difference upon its qualification. If the declensions\r\nof the ancient languages are so very complex, their conjugations are\r\ninfinitely more so. And the complexness of the one is founded upon the\r\nsame principle with that of the other, the difficulty of forming, in\r\nthe beginnings of language, abstract and general terms.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eVerbs must necessarily have been coëval with the very first\r\nattempts towards the formation of language. No affirmation can be\r\nexpressed without the assistance of some verb. We never speak but in\r\norder to express our opinion that something either is or is not. But\r\nthe word denoting this event, or this matter of fact, which is the\r\nsubject of our affirmation, must always be a verb.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eImpersonal verbs, which express in one word a complete event, which\r\npreserve in the expression that perfect simplicity and unity, \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page316\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e316\u003c/span\u003e\r\nwhich there always is in the object and in the idea, and which suppose\r\nno abstraction, or metaphysical division of the event into its several\r\nconstituent members of subject and attribute, would, in all\r\nprobability, be the species of verbs first invented. The verbs\r\n\u003ci\u003epluit\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eit rains\u003c/i\u003e; \u003ci\u003eningit\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eit snows\u003c/i\u003e;\r\n\u003ci\u003etonat\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eit thunders\u003c/i\u003e; \u003ci\u003elucet\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eit is day\u003c/i\u003e;\r\n\u003ci\u003eturbatur\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003ethere is a confusion\u003c/i\u003e, \u0026amp;c., each of them\r\nexpress a complete affirmation, the whole of an event, with that\r\nperfect simplicity and unity with which the mind conceives it in\r\nnature. On the contrary, the phrases, \u003ci\u003eAlexander ambulat\u003c/i\u003e,\r\n\u003ci\u003eAlexander walks\u003c/i\u003e; \u003ci\u003ePetrus sedet\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003ePeter sits\u003c/i\u003e, divide\r\nthe event, as it were, into two parts, the person or subject, and the\r\nattribute, or matter of fact, affirmed of that subject. But in nature,\r\nthe idea or conception of Alexander walking, is as perfectly and\r\ncompletely one simple conception, as that of Alexander not walking.\r\nThe division of this event, therefore, into two parts, is altogether\r\nartificial, and is the effect of the imperfection of language, which,\r\nupon this, as upon many other occasions, supplies, by a number of\r\nwords, the want of one, which could express at once the whole matter\r\nof fact that was meant to be affirmed. Every body must observe how\r\nmuch more simplicity there is in the natural expression, \u003ci\u003epluit\u003c/i\u003e,\r\nthan in the more artificial expressions, \u003ci\u003eimber decidit\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003ethe\r\nrain falls\u003c/i\u003e; or \u003ci\u003etempestas est pluvia\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003ethe weather is\r\nrainy\u003c/i\u003e. In these two last expressions, the simple event, or matter\r\nof fact, is artificially split and divided in the one, into two; in\r\nthe other, into three parts. In each of them it is expressed by a sort\r\nof grammatical circumlocution, of which the significancy is founded\r\nupon a certain metaphysical analysis of the component parts of the\r\nidea expressed by the word \u003ci\u003epluit\u003c/i\u003e. The first verbs, therefore,\r\nperhaps even the first words, made use of in the beginnings of\r\nlanguage, would in all probability be such impersonal verbs. It is\r\nobserved accordingly, I am told, by the Hebrew grammarians, that the\r\nradical words of their language, from which all the others are\r\nderived, are all of them verbs, and impersonal verbs.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIt is easy to conceive how, in the progress of language, those\r\nimpersonal verbs should become personal. Let us suppose, for example,\r\nthat the word \u003ci\u003evenit\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eit comes\u003c/i\u003e, was originally an\r\nimpersonal verb, and that it denoted, not the coming of something in\r\ngeneral, as at present, but the coming of a particular object, such as\r\n\u003ci\u003ethe lion\u003c/i\u003e. The first savage inventors of language, we shall\r\nsuppose, when they observed the approach of this terrible animal, were\r\naccustomed to cry out to one another, \u003ci\u003evenit\u003c/i\u003e, that is, \u003ci\u003ethe\r\nlion comes\u003c/i\u003e; and that this word thus expressed a complete event,\r\nwithout the assistance of any other. Afterwards, when, on the further\r\nprogress of language, they had begun to give names to particular\r\nsubstances, whenever they observed the approach of any other terrible\r\nobject, they would naturally join the name of that object to the word\r\n\u003ci\u003evenit\u003c/i\u003e, and cry out, \u003ci\u003evenit ursus\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003evenit lupus\u003c/i\u003e. By\r\ndegrees the word venit would thus come to signify the coming of any\r\n\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page317\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e317\u003c/span\u003e terrible object, and not merely the coming of the lion. It\r\nwould, now, therefore, express, not the coming of a particular object,\r\nbut the coming of an object of a particular kind. Having become more\r\ngeneral in its signification, it could no longer represent any\r\nparticular distinct event by itself, and without the assistance of a\r\nnoun substantive, which might serve to ascertain and determine its\r\nsignification. It would now, therefore, have become a personal,\r\ninstead of an impersonal verb. We may easily conceive how, in the\r\nfurther progress of society, it might still grow more general in its\r\nsignification, and come to signify, as at present, the approach of any\r\nthing whatever, whether it were good, bad, or indifferent.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIt is probably in some such manner as this, that almost all verbs\r\nhave become personal, and that mankind have learned by degrees to\r\nsplit and divide almost every event into a great number of\r\nmetaphysical parts, expressed by the different parts of speech,\r\nvariously combined in the different members of every phrase and\r\nsentence.\u003ca href=\"#FootnoteB1\" id=\"FnAnchorB1\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003e\u003cspan class=\"sp\"\u003e1\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/a\u003e The same sort of progress seems to have been made in the\r\nart of speaking as in the art of writing. When mankind first began to\r\nattempt to express their ideas by writing, every character represented\r\na whole word. But the number of words being almost infinite, the\r\nmemory found itself quite loaded and oppressed by the multitude of\r\ncharacters which it was obliged to retain. Necessity taught them,\r\ntherefore, to divide words into their elements, and to invent\r\ncharacters which should represent, not the words themselves, but the\r\nelements of which they were composed. In consequence of this\r\ninvention, every particular word came to be represented, not by one\r\ncharacter, but by a multitude of characters; and the expression of it\r\nin writing became much more intricate and complex than before. But\r\nthough particular words were thus represented by a greater number of\r\ncharacters, the whole language was expressed by a much smaller, and\r\nabout four and twenty letters were found capable of supplying the\r\nplace of that immense multitude of characters, which were requisite\r\nbefore. In the same manner, in the beginnings of language, men seem to\r\nhave attempted to express every particular event, which they had\r\noccasion to take notice of, by a particular word, which expressed at\r\nonce the whole of that event. But as the number of words must, in this\r\ncase, have become really infinite in consequence of the really\r\ninfinite variety of events, men found themselves partly compelled by\r\nnecessity, and partly conducted by nature, to divide \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page318\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e318\u003c/span\u003e every event\r\ninto what may be called its metaphysical elements, and to institute\r\nwords, which should denote not so much the events, as the elements of\r\nwhich they were composed. The expression of every particular event,\r\nbecame in this manner more intricate and complex, but the whole system\r\nof the language became more coherent, more connected, more easily\r\nretained and comprehended.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"footnote\"\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"fn\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"FootnoteB1\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca href=\"#FnAnchorB1\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003e\u003csup\u003e1\u003c/sup\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e As the far greater part of verbs express, at present,\r\nnot an event, but the attribute of an event, and, consequently,\r\nrequire a subject, or nominative case, to complete their\r\nsignification, some grammarians, not having attended to this progress\r\nof nature, and being desirous to make their common rules quite\r\nuniversal, and without any exception, have insisted that all verbs\r\nrequired a nominative, either expressed or understood; and have,\r\naccordingly, put themselves to the torture to find some awkward\r\nnominatives to those few verbs which still expressing a complete\r\nevent, plainly admit of none. \u003ci\u003ePluit\u003c/i\u003e, for example, according to\r\n\u003ci\u003eSanctius\u003c/i\u003e, means \u003ci\u003epluvia pluit\u003c/i\u003e, in English, \u003ci\u003ethe rain\r\nrains\u003c/i\u003e. See Sanctii Minerva, 1. 3. c. \u003cspan class=\"smcap\"\u003eⅠ\u003c/span\u003e.\u003c/p\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWhen verbs, from being originally impersonal, had thus, by the\r\ndivision of the event into its metaphysical elements, become personal\r\nit is natural to suppose that they would first be made use of in the\r\nthird person singular. No verb is ever used impersonally in our\r\nlanguage nor, so far as I know, in any other modern tongue. But in the\r\nancient languages, whenever any verb is used impersonally, it is\r\nalways in the third person singular. The termination of those verbs,\r\nwhich are still always impersonal, is constantly the same with that of\r\nthe third person singular of personal verbs. The consideration of\r\nthese circumstances, joined to the naturalness of the thing itself,\r\nmay therefore serve to convince us that verbs first became personal in\r\nwhat is now called the third person singular.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eBut as the event, or matter of fact, which is expressed by a verb,\r\nmay be affirmed either of the person who speaks, or of the person who\r\nis spoken to, as well as of, some third person or object, it becomes\r\nnecessary to fall upon some method of expressing these two peculiar\r\nrelations of the event. In the English language this is commonly done,\r\nby prefixing, what are called the personal pronouns, to the general\r\nword which expresses the event affirmed. \u003ci\u003eI came\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eyou\r\ncame\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003ehe\u003c/i\u003e or \u003ci\u003eit came\u003c/i\u003e; in these phrases the event of\r\nhaving come is, in the first, affirmed of the speaker; in the second,\r\nof the person spoken to; in the third, of some other person or object.\r\nThe first formers of language, it may be imagined, might have done the\r\nsame thing, and prefixing in the same manner the two first personal\r\npronouns, to the same termination of the verb, which expressed the\r\nthird person singular, might have said \u003ci\u003eego venit\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003etu\r\nvenit\u003c/i\u003e, as well as \u003ci\u003eille\u003c/i\u003e or \u003ci\u003eillud venit\u003c/i\u003e. And I make no\r\ndoubt but they would have done so, if at the time when they had first\r\noccasion to express these relations of the verb there had been any\r\nsuch words as either \u003ci\u003eego\u003c/i\u003e or \u003ci\u003etu\u003c/i\u003e in their language. But in\r\nthis early period of the language, which we are now endeavouring to\r\ndescribe, it is extremely improbable that any such words would be\r\nknown. Though custom has now rendered them familiar to us, they, both\r\nof them, express ideas extremely metaphysical and abstract. The word\r\n\u003ci\u003eI\u003c/i\u003e, for example, is a word of a very particular species.\r\nWhatever speaks may denote itself by this personal pronoun. The word\r\n\u003ci\u003eI\u003c/i\u003e, therefore, is a general word, capable of being predicated,\r\nas the logicians say, of an infinite variety of objects. It differs,\r\nhowever, from all other general words in this respect; that the \u003cspan class=\"correction\" title=\"amended from object\"\u003eobjects\u003c/span\u003e\r\nof which it may be predicated, do not form any particular species of\r\nobjects distinguished from all others. The \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page319\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e319\u003c/span\u003e word \u003ci\u003eI\u003c/i\u003e, does\r\nnot, like the word \u003ci\u003eman\u003c/i\u003e, denote a particular class of objects\r\nseparated from all others by peculiar qualities of their own. It is\r\nfar from being the name of a species, but, on the contrary, whenever\r\nit is made use of, it always denotes a precise individual, the\r\nparticular person who then speaks. It may be said to be, at once, both\r\nwhat the logicians call, a singular, and what they call, a common\r\nterm; and to join, in its signification the seemingly opposite\r\nqualities of the most precise individuality and the most extensive\r\ngeneralization. This word, therefore, expressing so very abstract and\r\nmetaphysical an idea, would not easily or readily occur to the first\r\nformers of language. What are called the personal pronouns, it may be\r\nobserved, are among the last words of which children learn to make\r\nuse. A child, speaking of itself, says, \u003ci\u003eBilly walks\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eBilly\r\nsits\u003c/i\u003e, \u003cspan class=\"correction\" title=\"amended from insteads\"\u003einstead\u003c/span\u003e of \u003ci\u003eI walk\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eI sit\u003c/i\u003e. As in the\r\nbeginnings of language, therefore, mankind seem to have evaded the\r\ninvention of at least the more abstract prepositions, and to have\r\nexpressed the same relations which these now stand for, by varying the\r\ntermination of the co-relative term, so they likewise would naturally\r\nattempt to evade the necessity of inventing those more abstract\r\npronouns by varying the termination of the verb, according as the\r\nevent which it expressed was intended to be affirmed of the first,\r\nsecond, or third person. This seems, accordingly, to be the universal\r\npractice of all the ancient languages. In Latin, \u003ci\u003eveni\u003c/i\u003e,\r\n\u003ci\u003evenisti\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003evenit\u003c/i\u003e, sufficiently denote, without any other\r\naddition, the different events expressed by the English phrases, \u003ci\u003eI\r\ncame\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eyou came\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003ehe\u003c/i\u003e or \u003ci\u003eit came\u003c/i\u003e. The verb\r\nwould, for the same reason, vary its termination, according as the\r\nevent was intended to be affirmed of the first, second, or third\r\npersons plural; and what is expressed by the English phrases, \u003ci\u003ewe\r\ncame\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eye came\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003ethey came\u003c/i\u003e, would be denoted by the\r\nLatin words, \u003ci\u003evenimus\u003c/i\u003e, \u003cspan class=\"correction\" title=\"amended from venisitis\"\u003e\u003ci\u003evenistis\u003c/i\u003e\u003c/span\u003e, \u003ci\u003eveneunt\u003c/i\u003e. Those\r\nprimitive languages, too, which upon account of the difficulty of\r\ninventing numeral names, had introduced a dual, as well as a plural\r\nnumber, into the declension of their nouns substantive, would\r\nprobably, from analogy, do the same thing in the conjugations of\r\ntheir verbs. And thus in all original languages, we might expect to\r\nfind, at least six, if not eight or nine variations, in the\r\ntermination of every verb, according as the event which it denoted was\r\nmeant to be affirmed of the first, second, or third persons singular,\r\ndual, or plural. These variations again being repeated, along with\r\nothers, through all its different tenses, through all its different\r\nmodes, and through all its different voices, must necessarily have\r\nrendered their conjugations still more intricate and complex than\r\ntheir declensions.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eLanguage would probably have continued upon this footing in all\r\ncountries, nor would ever have grown more simple in its declensions\r\nand conjugations, had it not become more complex in its composition,\r\nin consequence of the mixture of several languages with one another,\r\noccasioned by the mixture of different nations. As long as any \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page320\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e320\u003c/span\u003e\r\nlanguage was spoke by those only who learned it in their infancy, the\r\nintricacy of its declensions and conjugations could occasion no great\r\nembarrassment. The far greater part of those who had occasion to speak\r\nit, had acquired it at so very early a period of their lives, so\r\ninsensibly and by such slow degrees, that they were scarce ever\r\nsensible of the difficulty. But when two nations came to be mixed with\r\none another, either by conquest or migration, the case would be very\r\ndifferent. Each nation, in order to make itself intelligible to those\r\nwith whom it was under the necessity of conversing, would be obliged\r\nto learn the language of the other. The greater part of individuals\r\ntoo, learning the new language, not by art, or by remounting to its\r\nrudiments and first principle, but by rote, and by what they commonly\r\nheard in conversation, would be extremely perplexed by the intricacy\r\nof its declensions and conjugations. They would endeavour, therefore,\r\nto supply their ignorance of these, by whatever shift the language\r\ncould afford them. Their ignorance of the declensions they would\r\nnaturally supply by the use of prepositions; and a Lombard, who was\r\nattempting to speak Latin, and wanted to express that such a person\r\nwas a citizen of Rome, or a benefactor to Rome, if he happened not to\r\nbe acquainted with the genitive and dative cases of the word\r\n\u003ci\u003eRoma\u003c/i\u003e, would naturally express himself by prefixing the\r\nprepositions \u003ci\u003ead\u003c/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003ede\u003c/i\u003e to the nominative; and instead of\r\n\u003ci\u003eRomæ\u003c/i\u003e, would say, \u003ci\u003ead Roma\u003c/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003ede Roma\u003c/i\u003e. \u003ci\u003eAl\r\nRoma\u003c/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003edi Roma\u003c/i\u003e, accordingly, is the manner in which the\r\npresent Italians, the descendants of the ancient Lombards and Romans,\r\nexpress this and all other similar relations. And in this manner\r\nprepositions seem to have been introduced, in the room of the ancient\r\ndeclensions. The same alteration has, I am informed, been produced\r\nupon the Greek language, since the taking of Constantinople by the\r\nTurks. The words are, in a great measure, the same as before; but the\r\ngrammar is entirely lost, prepositions having come in the place of the\r\nold declensions. This change is undoubtedly a simplification of the\r\nlanguage, in point of rudiments and principle. It introduces, instead\r\nof a great variety of declensions, one universal declension, which is\r\nthe same in every word, of whatever gender, number, or\r\ntermination.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eA similar expedient enables men, in the situation above mentioned,\r\nto get rid of almost the whole intricacy of their conjugations. There\r\nis in every language a verb, known by the name of the substantive\r\nverb; in Latin, \u003ci\u003esum\u003c/i\u003e; in English, \u003ci\u003eI am\u003c/i\u003e. This verb denotes\r\nnot the existence of any particular event, but existence in general.\r\nIt is, upon that account, the most abstract and metaphysical of all\r\nverbs; and, consequently, could by no means be a word of early\r\ninvention. When it came to be invented, however, as it had all the\r\ntenses and modes of any other verb, by being joined with the passive\r\nparticiple, it was capable of supplying the place of the whole passive\r\nvoice, and of rendering this part of their conjugations as simple and\r\nuniform as the \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page321\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e321\u003c/span\u003e use of prepositions had rendered their\r\ndeclensions. A Lombard, who wanted to say, \u003ci\u003eI am loved\u003c/i\u003e, but\r\ncould not recollect the word \u003ci\u003eamor\u003c/i\u003e, naturally endeavoured to\r\nsupply his ignorance, by saying \u003ci\u003eego sum amatus\u003c/i\u003e. \u003ci\u003eIo sono\r\namato\u003c/i\u003e, is at this day the Italian expression, which corresponds to\r\nthe English phrase above mentioned.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThere is another verb, which, in the same manner, runs through all\r\nlanguages, and which is distinguished by the name of the possessive\r\nverb; in Latin, \u003ci\u003ehabeo\u003c/i\u003e; in English, \u003ci\u003eI have\u003c/i\u003e. This verb,\r\nlikewise, denotes an event of an extremely abstract and metaphysical\r\nnature, and, consequently, cannot be supposed to have been a word of\r\nthe earliest invention. When it came to be invented, however, by being\r\napplied to the passive participle, it was capable of supplying a great\r\npart of the active voice, as the substantive verb had supplied the\r\nwhole of the passive. A Lombard, who wanted to say, \u003ci\u003eI had\r\nloved\u003c/i\u003e, but could not recollect the word \u003ci\u003eamaveram\u003c/i\u003e, would\r\nendeavour to supply the place of it, by saying either \u003ci\u003eego habebam\r\namatum\u003c/i\u003e or \u003ci\u003eego habui amatum\u003c/i\u003e. \u003ci\u003eIo avevá amato\u003c/i\u003e, or \u003ci\u003eIo\r\nebbi amato\u003c/i\u003e, are the correspondent Italian expressions at this day.\r\nAnd thus upon the intermixture of different nations with one another,\r\nthe conjugations, by means of different auxiliary verbs, were made to\r\napproach the simplicity and uniformity of the declensions.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIn general it may be laid down for a maxim, that the more simple\r\nany language is in its composition, the more complex it must be in its\r\ndeclensions and its conjugations; and on the contrary, the more simple\r\nit is in its declensions and its conjugations, the more complex it\r\nmust be in its composition.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe Greek seems to be, in a great measure, a simple, uncompounded\r\nlanguage, formed from the primitive jargon of those wandering savages,\r\nthe ancient Hellenians and Pelasgians, from whom the Greek nation is\r\nsaid to have been descended. All the words in the Greek language are\r\nderived from about three hundred primitives, a plain evidence that the\r\nGreeks formed their language almost entirely among themselves, and\r\nthat when they had occasion for a new word, they were not accustomed,\r\nas we are, to borrow it from some foreign language, but to form it,\r\neither by composition or derivation, from some other word or words, in\r\ntheir own. The declensions and conjugations, therefore, of the Greek\r\nare much more complex than those of any other European language with\r\nwhich I am acquainted.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe Latin is a composition of the Greek and of the ancient Tuscan\r\nlanguages. Its declensions and conjugations accordingly are much less\r\ncomplex than those of the Greek; it has dropped the dual number in\r\nboth. Its verbs have no optative mood distinguished by any peculiar\r\ntermination. They have but one future. They have no aorist distinct\r\nfrom the preterit-perfect; they have no middle voice; and even many of\r\ntheir tenses in the passive voice are eked out, in the same manner as\r\nin the modern languages, by the help of the substantive verb joined to\r\n\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page322\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e322\u003c/span\u003e the passive participle. In both the voices, the number of\r\ninfinitives and participles is much smaller in the Latin than in the\r\nGreek.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe French and Italian languages are each of them compounded, the\r\none of the Latin and the language of the ancient Franks, the other of\r\nthe same Latin and the language of the ancient Lombards. As they are\r\nboth of them, therefore, more complex in their composition than the\r\nLatin, so are they likewise more simple in their declensions and\r\nconjugations. With regard to their declensions, they have both of them\r\nlost their cases altogether; and with regard to their conjugations,\r\nthey have both of them lost the whole of the passive, and some part of\r\nthe active voices of their verbs. The want of the passive voice they\r\nsupply entirely by the substantive verb joined to the passive\r\nparticiple; and they make out part of the active, in the same manner,\r\nby the help of the possessive verb and the same passive\r\nparticiple.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe English is compounded of the French and the ancient Saxon\r\nlanguages. The French was introduced into Britain by the Norman\r\nconquest, and continued, till the time of Edward Ⅲ. to be the sole\r\nlanguage of the law as well as the principal language of the court.\r\nThe English, which came to be spoken afterwards, and which continues\r\nto be spoken now, is a mixture of the ancient Saxon and this Norman\r\nFrench. As the English language, therefore, is more complex in its\r\ncomposition than either the French or the Italian, so is it likewise\r\nmore simple in its declensions and conjugations. Those two languages\r\nretain, at least, a part of the distinction of genders, and their\r\nadjectives vary their termination according as they are applied to a\r\nmasculine or to a feminine substantive. But there is no such\r\ndistinction in the English language, whose adjectives admit of no\r\nvariety of termination. The French and Italian languages have, both of\r\nthem, the remains of a conjugation; and all those tenses of the active\r\nvoice, which cannot be expressed by the possessive verb joined to the\r\npassive participle, as well as many of those which can, are, in those\r\nlanguages, marked by varying the termination of the principal verb.\r\nBut almost all those other tenses are in the English eked out by other\r\nauxiliary verbs, so that there is in this language scarce even the\r\nremains of a conjugation. \u003ci\u003eI love\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eI loved\u003c/i\u003e,\r\n\u003ci\u003eloving\u003c/i\u003e, are all the varieties of termination which the greater\r\npart of the English verbs admit of. All the different modifications of\r\nmeaning, which cannot be expressed by any of those three terminations,\r\nmust be made out by different auxiliary verbs joined to some one or\r\nother of them. Two auxiliary verbs supply all the deficiencies of the\r\nFrench and Italian conjugations; it requires more than half a dozen to\r\nsupply those of the English, which, besides the substantive and\r\npossessive verbs, makes use of \u003ci\u003edo\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003edid\u003c/i\u003e; \u003ci\u003ewill\u003c/i\u003e,\r\n\u003ci\u003ewould\u003c/i\u003e; \u003ci\u003eshall\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eshould\u003c/i\u003e; \u003ci\u003ecan\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003ecould\u003c/i\u003e;\r\n\u003ci\u003emay\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003emight\u003c/i\u003e.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIt is in this manner that language becomes more simple in its\r\nrudiments and principles, just in proportion as it grows more complex\r\nin \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page323\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e323\u003c/span\u003e its composition, and the same thing has happened in it, which\r\ncommonly happens with regard to mechanical engines. All machines are\r\ngenerally, when first invented, extremely complex in their principles,\r\nand there is often a particular principle of motion for every\r\nparticular movement which it is intended they should perform.\r\nSucceeding improvers observe, that one principle may be so applied as\r\nto produce several of those movements; and thus the machine becomes\r\ngradually more and more simple, and produces its effects with fewer\r\nwheels, and fewer principles of motion. In language, in the same\r\nmanner, every case of every noun, and every tense of every verb, was\r\noriginally expressed by a particular distinct word, which served for\r\nthis purpose and for no other. But succeeding observations discovered,\r\nthat one set of words was capable of supplying the place of all that\r\ninfinite number, and that four or five prepositions, and half a dozen\r\nauxiliary verbs, were capable of answering the end of all the\r\ndeclensions, and of all the conjugations in the ancient languages.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eBut this simplification of languages, though it arises, perhaps,\r\nfrom similar causes, has by no means similar effects with the\r\ncorrespondent simplification of machines. The simplification of\r\nmachines renders them more and more perfect, but this simplification\r\nof the rudiments of languages renders them more and more imperfect,\r\nand less proper for many of the purposes of language; and this for the\r\nfollowing reasons.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eFirst of all, languages are by this simplification rendered more\r\nprolix, several words having become necessary to express what could\r\nhave been expressed by a single word before. Thus the words,\r\n\u003ci\u003eDei\u003c/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eDeo\u003c/i\u003e, in the Latin, sufficiently show, without\r\nany addition, what relation the object signified is understood to\r\nstand in to the objects expressed by the other words in the sentence.\r\nBut to express the same relation in English, and in all other modern\r\nlanguages, we must make use of, at least, two words, and say, \u003ci\u003eof\r\nGod\u003c/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eto God\u003c/i\u003e. So far as the declensions are concerned,\r\ntherefore, the modern languages are much more prolix than the ancient.\r\nThe difference is still greater with regard to the conjugations. What\r\na Roman expressed by the single word \u003ci\u003eamavissem\u003c/i\u003e, an Englishman\r\nis obliged to express by four different words, \u003ci\u003eI should have\r\nloved\u003c/i\u003e. It is unnecessary to take any pains to show how much this\r\nprolixness must enervate the eloquence of all modern languages. How\r\nmuch the beauty of any expression depends upon its conciseness, is\r\nwell known to those who have any experience in composition.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eSecondly, this simplification of the principles of languages\r\nrenders them less agreeable to the ear. The variety of termination in\r\nthe Greek and Latin, occasioned by their declensions and conjugations,\r\ngives a sweetness to their language altogether unknown to ours, and a\r\nvariety unknown to any other modern language. In point of sweetness,\r\nthe Italian, perhaps, may surpass the Latin, and almost equal the\r\nGreek; but in point of variety, it is greatly inferior to both.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page324\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e324\u003c/span\u003e Thirdly, this simplification, not only renders the sounds of\r\nour language less agreeable to the ear, but it also restrains us from\r\ndisposing such sounds as we have, in the manner that might be most\r\nagreeable. It ties down many words to a particular situation, though\r\nthey might often be placed in another with much more beauty. In the\r\nGreek and Latin, though the adjective and substantive were separated\r\nfrom one another, the correspondence of their terminations still\r\nshowed their mutual reference, and the separation did not necessarily\r\noccasion any sort of confusion. Thus in the first line of Virgil,\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"poembox\"\u003e\u003cdiv class=\"poem\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp class=\"noind\"\u003e\r\nTityre tu patulæ recubans sub tegmine fagi;\u003c/p\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003cp class=\"noind\"\u003ewe easily see that \u003ci\u003etu\u003c/i\u003e refers to \u003ci\u003erecubans\u003c/i\u003e, and\r\n\u003ci\u003epatulæ\u003c/i\u003e to \u003ci\u003efagi\u003c/i\u003e; though the related words are separated\r\nfrom one another by the intervention of several others; because the\r\nterminations, showing the correspondence of their cases, determine\r\ntheir mutual reference. But if we were to translate this line\r\nliterally into English, and say, \u003ci\u003eTityrus, thou of spreading\r\nreclining under the shade beech\u003c/i\u003e, Œdipus himself could not make\r\nsense of it; because there is here no difference of termination, to\r\ndetermine which substantive each adjective belongs to. It is the same\r\ncase with regard to verbs. In Latin the verb may often be placed,\r\nwithout any inconveniency or ambiguity, in any part of the sentence.\r\nBut in English its place is almost always precisely determined. It\r\nmust follow the subjective and precede the objective member of the\r\nphrase in almost all cases. Thus in Latin whether you say, \u003ci\u003eJoannem\r\nverberavit Robertas\u003c/i\u003e, or \u003ci\u003eRobertas verberavit Joannem\u003c/i\u003e, the\r\nmeaning is precisely the same, and the termination fixes John to be\r\nthe sufferer in both cases. But in English \u003ci\u003eJohn beat Robert\u003c/i\u003e,\r\nand \u003ci\u003eRobert beat John\u003c/i\u003e, have by no means the same signification.\r\nThe place therefore of the three principal members of the phrase is in\r\nthe English, and for the same reason in the French and Italian\r\nlanguages, almost always precisely determined; whereas in the ancient\r\nlanguages a greater latitude is allowed, and the place of those\r\nmembers is often, in a great measure, indifferent. We must have\r\nrecourse to Horace, in order to interpret some parts of Milton’s\r\nliteral translation;\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"poembox\"\u003e\u003cdiv class=\"poem\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp class=\"noind\"\u003eWho now enjoys thee credulous all gold,\u003cbr\u003e Who always vacant, always\r\namiable\u003cbr\u003e Hopes thee; of flattering gales\u003cbr\u003e Unmindful\u003c/p\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003cp class=\"noind\"\u003eare verses which it is impossible to interpret by any rules of our\r\nlanguage. There are no rules in our language, by which any man could\r\ndiscover, that, in the first line, \u003ci\u003ecredulous\u003c/i\u003e referred to\r\n\u003ci\u003ewho\u003c/i\u003e, and not to \u003ci\u003ethee\u003c/i\u003e; or that \u003ci\u003eall gold\u003c/i\u003e referred\r\nto any thing; or, that in the fourth line, \u003ci\u003eunmindful\u003c/i\u003e, referred\r\nto \u003ci\u003ewho\u003c/i\u003e, in the second, and not to \u003ci\u003ethee\u003c/i\u003e in the third; or,\r\non the contrary, that, in the second line, \u003ci\u003ealways vacant\u003c/i\u003e,\r\n\u003ci\u003ealways amiable\u003c/i\u003e, referred to \u003ci\u003ethee\u003c/i\u003e in the third, and not\r\nto \u003ci\u003ewho\u003c/i\u003e in the same line with it. In the Latin, indeed, all this\r\nis abundantly plain. \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e325\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"poembox\"\u003e\u003cdiv class=\"poem\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp class=\"noind\"\u003e Qui nunc te fruitur credulus aureâ,\u003cbr\u003e Qui semper vacuam, semper\r\namabilem\u003cbr\u003e Sperat te; nescius auræ fallacis.\u003c/p\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003cp class=\"noind\"\u003eBecause the terminations in the Latin determine the reference of\r\neach adjective to its proper substantive, which it is impossible for\r\nany thing in the English to do. How much this power of transposing the\r\norder of their words must have facilitated the compositions of the\r\nancients, both in verse and prose, can hardly be imagined. That it\r\nmust greatly have facilitated their versification it is needless to\r\nobserve; and in prose, whatever beauty depends upon the arrangement\r\nand construction of the several members of the period, must to them\r\nhave been acquirable with much more ease, and to much greater\r\nperfection than it can be to those whose expression is constantly\r\nconfined by the prolixness, constraint, and monotony of modern\r\nlanguages.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003chr class=\"thirty\"\u003e\r\n\u003ch3 id=\"C\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page325\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003eTHE PRINCIPLES\u003c/h3\u003e\r\n\u003ch6\u003eWHICH LEAD AND DIRECT\u003c/h6\u003e\r\n\u003ch2\u003ePHILOSOPHICAL ENQUIRIES;\u003c/h2\u003e\r\n\u003ch6\u003eAS ILLUSTRATED BY\u003c/h6\u003e\r\n\u003ch3\u003eTHE HISTORY OF ASTRONOMY.\u003c/h3\u003e\r\n\u003chr\u003e\r\n\u003cp class=\"noind\"\u003eW\u003cspan class=\"smcap\"\u003eONDER\u003c/span\u003e, surprise, and admiration, are words which, though often\r\nconfounded, denote, in our language, sentiments that are indeed\r\nallied, but that are in some respects different also, and distinct\r\nfrom one another. What is new and singular, excites that sentiment\r\nwhich, in strict propriety, is called Wonder; what is unexpected,\r\nSurprise; and what is great or beautiful, Admiration.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWe wonder at all extraordinary and uncommon objects, at all the\r\nrarer phenomena of nature, at meteors, comets, eclipses, at singular\r\nplants and animals, and at every thing, in short, with which we have\r\nbefore been either little or not at all acquainted; and we still\r\nwonder, though forewarned of what we are to see.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWe are surprised at those things which we have seen often, but\r\nwhich we least of all expected to meet with in the place where we find\r\nthem; we are surprised at the sudden appearance of a friend, whom we\r\nhave seen a thousand times, but whom we did not at all imagine we were\r\nto see then.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWe admire the beauty of a plain or the greatness of a mountain,\r\n\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e326\u003c/span\u003e though we have seen both often before, and though nothing\r\nappears to us in either, but what we had expected with certainty to\r\nsee.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWhether this criticism upon the precise meaning of these words be\r\njust, is of little importance. I imagine it is just, though I\r\nacknowledge, that the best writers in our language have not always\r\nmade use of them according to it. Milton, upon the appearance of\r\nDeath to Satan, says, that\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"poembox\"\u003e\u003cdiv class=\"poem\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp class=\"noind\"\u003eThe Fiend what this might be admir’d,\u003cbr\u003e Admir’d, not\r\nfear’d.———\u003c/p\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003cp class=\"noind\"\u003eBut if this criticism be just, the proper expression should have\r\nbeen \u003ci\u003ewonder’d\u003c/i\u003e. Dryden, upon the discovery of Iphigenia\r\nsleeping, says that\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"poembox\"\u003e\u003cdiv class=\"poem\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp class=\"noind\"\u003eThe fool of nature stood with stupid eyes,\u003cbr\u003e And gaping mouth, that\r\ntestified surprise.\u003c/p\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003cp class=\"noind\"\u003eBut what Cimon must have felt upon this occasion could not so much\r\nbe Surprise, as Wonder and Admiration. All that I contend for is, that\r\nthe sentiments excited by what is new, by what is unexpected, and by\r\nwhat is great and beautiful are really different, however the words\r\nmade use of to express them may sometimes be confounded. Even the\r\nadmiration which is excited by beauty, is quite different (as will\r\nappear more fully hereafter) from that which is inspired by greatness,\r\nthough we have but one word to denote them.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThese sentiments, like all others when inspired by one and the same\r\nobject, mutually support and enliven one another: an object with which\r\nwe are quite familiar, and which we see every day, produces, though\r\nboth great and beautiful, but a small effect upon us; because our\r\nadmiration is not supported either by Wonder or by Surprise: and if we\r\nhave heard a very accurate description of a monster, our Wonder will\r\nbe the less when we see it; because our previous knowledge of it will\r\nin a great measure prevent our Surprise.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIt is the design of this essay to consider particularly the nature\r\nand causes of each of these sentiments, whose influence is of far\r\nwider extent than we should be apt upon a careless view to imagine. I\r\nshall begin with Surprise.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003chr\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e\u003ca id=\"page326\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003eS\u003cspan class=\"smcap\"\u003eEC.\u003c/span\u003e Ⅰ.—\u003ci\u003eOf the Effect of Unexpectedness, or of\r\nSurprise.\u003c/i\u003e\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp class=\"noind\"\u003eW\u003cspan class=\"smcap\"\u003eHEN\u003c/span\u003e an object of any kind, which has been for some time expected\r\nand foreseen, presents itself, whatever be the emotion which it is by\r\nnature fitted to excite, the mind must have been prepared for it, and\r\nmust even in some measure have conceived it before-hand; because the\r\nidea of the object having been so long present to it, must have\r\nbefore-hand excited some degree of the same emotion which the object\r\nitself would excite: the change, therefore, which its presence\r\nproduces comes thus to be less considerable, and the emotion or\r\npassion which it excites glides gradually and easily into the heart,\r\nwithout violence, pain or difficulty.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page327\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e327\u003c/span\u003e But the contrary of all this happens when the object is\r\nunexpected; the passion is then poured in all at once upon the heart,\r\nwhich is thrown, if it is a strong passion, into the most violent and\r\nconvulsive emotions, such as sometimes cause immediate death;\r\nsometimes, by the suddenness of the ecstacy, so entirely disjoint the\r\nwhole frame of the imagination, that it never after returns to its\r\nformer tone and composure, but falls either into a frenzy or habitual\r\nlunacy; and such as almost always occasion a momentary loss of reason,\r\nor of that attention to other things which our situation or our duty\r\nrequires.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eHow much we dread the effects of the more violent passions, when\r\nthey come suddenly upon the mind, appears from those preparations\r\nwhich all men think necessary when going to inform any one of what is\r\ncapable of exciting them. Who would choose all at once to inform his\r\nfriend of an extraordinary calamity that had befallen him, without\r\ntaking care before-hand, by alarming him with an uncertain fear, to\r\nannounce, if one may say so, his misfortune, and thereby prepare and\r\ndispose him for receiving the tidings?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThose panic terrors which sometimes seize armies in the field, or\r\ngreat cities, when an enemy is in the neighbourhood, and which deprive\r\nfor a time the most determined of all deliberate judgments, are never\r\nexcited but by the sudden apprehension of unexpected danger. Such\r\nviolent consternations, which at once confound whole multitudes,\r\nbenumb their understandings, and agitate their hearts, with all the\r\nagony of extravagant fear, can never be produced by any foreseen\r\ndanger, how great soever. Fear, though naturally a very strong\r\npassion, never rises to such excesses, unless exasperated both by\r\nwonder, from the uncertain nature of the danger, and by surprise, from\r\nthe suddenness of the apprehension.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eSurprise, therefore, is not to be regarded as an original emotion\r\nof a species distinct from all others. The violent and sudden change\r\nproduced upon the mind, when an emotion of any kind is brought\r\nsuddenly upon it, constitutes the whole nature of Surprise.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eBut when not only a passion and a great passion comes all at once\r\nupon the mind, but when it comes upon it while the mind is in the mood\r\nmost unfit for conceiving it, the Surprise is then the greatest.\r\nSurprises of joy when the mind is sunk into grief, or of grief when it\r\nis elated with joy, are therefore the most unsupportable. The change\r\nis in this case the greatest possible. Not only a strong passion is\r\nconceived all at once, but a strong passion the direct opposite of\r\nthat which was before in possession of the soul. When a load of sorrow\r\ncomes down upon the heart that is expanded and elated with gaiety and\r\njoy, it seems not only to damp and oppress it, but almost to crush and\r\nbruise it, as a real weight would crush and bruise the body. On the\r\ncontrary, when from an unexpected change of fortune, a tide of\r\ngladness seems, if I may say so, to spring up all at once within it,\r\nwhen \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page328\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e328\u003c/span\u003e depressed and contracted with grief and sorrow, it feels as\r\nif suddenly extended and heaved up with violent and irresistible\r\nforce, and is torn with pangs of all others most exquisite, and which\r\nalmost always occasion faintings, deliriums, and sometimes instant\r\ndeath. For it may be worth while to observe, that though grief be a\r\nmore violent passion than joy, as indeed all uneasy sensations seem\r\nnaturally more pungent than the opposite agreeable ones, yet of the\r\ntwo, Surprises of joy are still more insupportable than Surprises of\r\ngrief. We are told that after the battle of Thrasimenus, while a Roman\r\nlady, who had been informed that her son was slain in the action, was\r\nsitting alone bemoaning her misfortunes, the young man who escaped\r\ncame suddenly into the room to her, and that she cried out and expired\r\ninstantly in a transport of joy. Let us suppose the contrary of this\r\nto have happened, and that in the midst of domestic festivity and\r\nmirth, he had suddenly fallen down dead at her feet, is it likely that\r\nthe effects would have been equally violent? I imagine not. The heart\r\nsprings to joy with a sort of natural elasticity, it abandons itself\r\nto so agreeable an emotion, as soon as the object is presented; it\r\nseems to pant and leap forward to meet it, and the passion in its full\r\nforce takes at once entire and complete possession of the soul. But it\r\nis otherwise with grief; the heart recoils from, and resists the first\r\napproaches of that disagreeable passion, and it requires some time\r\nbefore the melancholy object can produce its full effect. Grief comes\r\non slowly and gradually, nor ever rises at once to that height of\r\nagony to which it is increased after a little time. But joy comes\r\nrushing upon us all at once like a torrent. The change produced,\r\ntherefore, by a surprise of joy is more sudden, and upon that account\r\nmore violent and apt to have more fatal effects, than that which is\r\noccasioned by a surprise of grief; there seems, too, to be something\r\nin the nature of surprise, which makes it unite more easily with the\r\nbrisk and quick motion of joy, than with the slower and heavier\r\nmovement of grief. Most men who can take the trouble to recollect,\r\nwill find that they have heard of more people who died or became\r\ndistracted with sudden joy, than with sudden grief. Yet from the\r\nnature of human affairs, the latter must be much more frequent than\r\nthe former. A man may break his leg, or lose his son, though he has\r\nhad no warning of either of these events, but he can hardly meet with\r\nan extraordinary piece of good fortune, without having had some\r\nforesight of what was to happen.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eNot only grief and joy, but all the other passions, are more\r\nviolent, when opposite extremes succeed each other. Is any resentment\r\nso keen as what follows the quarrels of lovers, or any love so\r\npassionate as what attends their reconcilement?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eEven the objects of the external senses affect us in a more lively\r\nmanner, when opposite extremes succeed to or are placed beside each\r\nother. Moderate warmth seems intolerable heat if felt after extreme\r\n\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e329\u003c/span\u003e cold. What is bitter will seem more so when tasted after what is\r\nvery sweet; a dirty white will seem bright and pure when placed by a\r\njet black. The vivacity in short of every sensation, as well as of\r\nevery sentiment, seems to be greater or less in proportion to the\r\nchange made by the impression of either upon the situation of the mind\r\nor organ; but this change must necessarily be the greatest when\r\nopposite sentiments and sensations are contrasted, or succeed\r\nimmediately to one another. Both sentiments and sensations are then\r\nthe liveliest; and this superior vivacity proceeds from nothing but\r\ntheir being brought upon the mind or organ when in a state most unfit\r\nfor conceiving them.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eAs the opposition of contrasted sentiments heightens their\r\nvivacity, so the resemblance of those which immediately succeed each\r\nother renders them more faint and languid. A parent who has lost\r\nseveral children immediately after one another, will be less affected\r\nwith the death of the last than with that of the first, though the\r\nloss in itself be, in this case, undoubtedly greater; but his mind\r\nbeing already sunk into sorrow, the new misfortune seems to produce no\r\nother effect than a continuance of the same melancholy, and is by no\r\nmeans apt to occasion such transports of grief as are ordinarily\r\nexcited by the first calamity of the kind; he receives it, though with\r\ngreat dejection, yet with some degree of calmness and composure, and\r\nwithout anything of that anguish and agitation of mind which the\r\nnovelty of the misfortune is apt to occasion. Those who have been\r\nunfortunate through the whole course of their lives are often indeed\r\nhabitually melancholy, and sometimes peevish and splenetic, yet upon\r\nany fresh disappointment, though they are vexed and complain a little,\r\nthey seldom fly out into any more violent passion, and never fall into\r\nthose transports of rage or grief which often, upon like occasions,\r\ndistract the fortunate and successful.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eUpon this are founded, in a great measure, some of the effects of\r\nhabit and custom. It is well known that custom deadens the vivacity of\r\nboth pain and pleasure, abates the grief we should feel for the one,\r\nand weakens the joy we should derive from the other. The pain is\r\nsupported without agony, and the pleasure enjoyed without rapture:\r\nbecause custom and the frequent repetition of any object comes at last\r\nto form and bend the mind or organ to that habitual mood and\r\ndisposition which fits them to receive its impression, without\r\nundergoing any very violent change.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003chr\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e\u003ca id=\"page329\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003eS\u003cspan class=\"smcap\"\u003eEC.\u003c/span\u003e Ⅱ.—\u003ci\u003eOf Wonder, or of the Effects of Novelty.\u003c/i\u003e\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp class=\"noind\"\u003eI\u003cspan class=\"smcap\"\u003eT\u003c/span\u003e is evident that the mind takes pleasure in observing the\r\nresemblances that are discoverable betwixt different objects. It is by\r\nmeans of such observations that it endeavours to arrange and methodise\r\nall its ideas, and to reduce them into proper classes and assortments.\r\nWhere it can observe but one single quality that is common to a great\r\n\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page330\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e330\u003c/span\u003e variety of otherwise widely different objects, that single\r\ncircumstance will be sufficient for it to connect them all together,\r\nto reduce them to one common class, and to call them by one general\r\nname. It is thus that all things endowed with a power of self-motion,\r\nbeasts, birds, fishes, insects, are classed under the general name of\r\nAnimal; and that these again, along with those which want that power,\r\nare arranged under the still more general word, Substance: and this is\r\nthe origin of those assortments of objects and ideas which in the\r\nschools are called Genera and Species, and of those abstract and\r\ngeneral names, which in all languages are made use of to express\r\nthem.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe further we advance in knowledge and experience, the greater\r\nnumber of divisions and subdivisions of those Genera and Species we\r\nare both inclined and obliged to make. We observe a greater variety of\r\nparticularities amongst those things which have a gross resemblance;\r\nand having made new divisions of them, according to those\r\nnewly-observed particularities, we are then no longer to be satisfied\r\nwith being able to refer an object to a remote genus, or very general\r\nclass of things, to many of which it has but a loose and imperfect\r\nresemblance. A person, indeed, unacquainted with botany may expect to\r\nsatisfy your curiosity, by telling you, that such a vegetable is a\r\nweed, or, perhaps in still more general terms, that it is a plant. But\r\na botanist will neither give nor accept of such an answer. He has\r\nbroke and divided that great class of objects into a number of\r\ninferior assortments, accord to those varieties which his experience\r\nhas discovered among them; and he wants to refer each individual plant\r\nto some tribe of vegetables, with all of which it may have a more\r\nexact resemblance, than with many things comprehended under the\r\nextensive genus of plants. A child imagines that it gives a\r\nsatisfactory answer when it tells you, that an object whose name it\r\nknows not is a thing, and fancies that it informs you of something,\r\nwhen it thus ascertains to which of the two most obvious and\r\ncomprehensive classes of objects a particular impression ought to be\r\nreferred; to the class of realities or solid substances which it calls\r\n\u003ci\u003ethings\u003c/i\u003e, or to that of appearances which it calls\r\n\u003ci\u003enothings\u003c/i\u003e.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWhatever, in short, occurs to us we are fond of referring to some\r\nspecies or class of things, with all of which it has a nearly exact\r\nresemblance: and though we often know no more about them than about\r\nit, yet we are apt to fancy that by being able to do so, we show\r\nourselves to be better acquainted with it, and to have a more thorough\r\ninsight into its nature. But when something quite new and singular is\r\npresented, we feel ourselves incapable of doing this. The memory\r\ncannot, from all its stores, cast up any image that nearly resembles\r\nthis strange appearance. If by some of its qualities it seems to\r\nresemble, and to be connected with a species which we have before been\r\nacquainted with, it is by others separated and detached from that, and\r\nfrom all the \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page331\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e331\u003c/span\u003e other assortments of things we have hitherto been\r\nable to make. It stands alone and by itself in the imagination, and\r\nrefuses to be grouped or confounded with any set of objects whatever.\r\nThe imagination and memory exert themselves to no purpose, and in vain\r\nlook around all their classes of ideas in order to find one under\r\nwhich it may be arranged. They fluctuate to no purpose from thought to\r\nthought, and we remain still uncertain and undetermined where to place\r\nit, or what to think of it. It is this fluctuation and vain\r\nrecollection, together with the emotion or movement of the spirits\r\nthat they excite, which constitute the sentiment properly called\r\n\u003ci\u003eWonder\u003c/i\u003e, and which occasion that staring, and sometimes that\r\nrolling of the eyes, that suspension of the breath, and that swelling\r\nof the heart, which we may all observe, both in ourselves and others,\r\nwhen wondering at some new object, and which are the natural symptoms\r\nof uncertain and undetermined thought. What sort of a thing can that\r\nbe? What is that like? are the questions which, upon such an occasion,\r\nwe are all naturally disposed to ask. If we can recollect many such\r\nobjects which exactly resemble this new appearance, and which present\r\nthemselves to the imagination naturally, and as it were of their own\r\naccord, our Wonder is entirely at an end. If we can recollect but a\r\nfew, and which it requires too some trouble to be able to call up, our\r\nWonder is indeed diminished, but not quite destroyed. If we can\r\nrecollect none, but are quite at a loss, it is the greatest\r\npossible.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWith what curious attention does a naturalist examine a singular\r\nplant, or a singular fossil, that is presented to him? He is at no\r\nloss to refer it to the general genus of plants or fossils; but this\r\ndoes not satisfy him, and when he considers all the different tribes\r\nor species of either with which he has hitherto been acquainted, they\r\nall, he thinks, refuse to admit the new object among them. It stands\r\nalone in his imagination, and as it were detached from all the other\r\nspecies of that genus to which it belongs. He labours, however, to\r\nconnect it with some one or other of them. Sometimes he thinks it may\r\nbe placed in this, and sometimes in that other assortment; nor is he\r\never satisfied, till he has fallen upon one which, in most of its\r\nqualities, it resembles. When he cannot do this, rather than it should\r\nstand quite by itself, he will enlarge the precincts, if I may say so,\r\nof some species, in order to make room for it; or he will create a new\r\nspecies on purpose to receive it, and call it a Play of Nature, or\r\ngive it some other appellation, under which he arranges all the\r\noddities that he knows not what else to do with. But to some class or\r\nother of known objects he must refer it, and betwixt it and them he\r\nmust find out some resemblance or ether, before he can get rid of that\r\nWonder, that uncertainty and anxious curiosity excited by its singular\r\nappearance, and by its dissimilitude with all the objects he had\r\nhitherto observed.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eAs single and individual objects thus excite our Wonder when, by\r\n\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page332\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e332\u003c/span\u003e their uncommon qualities and singular appearance, they make us\r\nuncertain to what species of things we ought to refer them; so a\r\nsuccession of objects which follow one another in an uncommon train or\r\norder, will produce the same effect, though there be nothing\r\nparticular in any one of them taken by itself.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWhen one accustomed object appears after another, which it does not\r\nusually follow, it first excites, by its unexpectedness, the sentiment\r\nproperly called Surprise, and afterwards, by the singularity of the\r\nsuccession, or order of its appearance, the sentiment properly called\r\nWonder. We start and are surprised at seeing it there, and then wonder\r\nhow it came there. The motion of a small piece of iron along a plain\r\ntable is in itself no extraordinary object, yet the person who first\r\nsaw it begin, without any visible impulse, in consequence of the\r\nmotion of a loadstone at some little distance from it, could not\r\nbehold it without the most extreme Surprise; and when that momentary\r\nemotion was over, he would still wonder how it came to be conjoined to\r\nan event with which, according to the ordinary train of things, he\r\ncould have so little suspected it to have any connection.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWhen two objects, however unlike, have often been observed to\r\nfollow each other, and have constantly presented themselves to the\r\nsenses in that order, they come to be connected together in the fancy,\r\nthat the idea of the one seems, of its own accord, to call up and\r\nintroduce that of the other. If the objects are still observed to\r\nsucceed each other as before, this connection, or, as it has been\r\ncalled, this association of their ideas, becomes stricter and\r\nstricter, and the habit of the imagination to pass from the conception\r\nof the one to that of the other, grows more and more rivetted and\r\nconfirmed. As its ideas move more rapidly than external objects, it is\r\ncontinually running before them, and therefore anticipates, before it\r\nhappens, every event which falls out according to this ordinary course\r\nof things. When objects succeed each other in the same train in which\r\nthe ideas of the imagination have thus been accustomed to move, and in\r\nwhich, though not conducted by that chain of events presented to the\r\nsenses, they have acquired a tendency to go on of their own accord,\r\nsuch objects appear all closely connected with one another, and the\r\nthought glides easily along them, without effort and without\r\ninterruption. They fall in with the natural career of the imagination;\r\nand as the ideas which represented such a train of things would seem\r\nall mutually to introduce each other, every last thought to be called\r\nup by the foregoing, and to call up the succeeding; so when the\r\nobjects themselves occur, every last event seems, in the same manner,\r\nto be introduced by the foregoing, and to introduce the succeeding.\r\nThere is no break, no stop, no gap, no interval. The ideas excited by\r\nso coherent a chain of things seem, as it were, to float through the\r\nmind of their own accord, without obliging it to exert itself, or to\r\nmake any effort in order to pass from one of them to another.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page333\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e333\u003c/span\u003e But if this customary connection be interrupted, if one or\r\nmore objects appear in an order quite different from that to which the\r\nimagination has been accustomed, and for which it is prepared, the\r\ncontrary of all this happens. We are at first surprised by the\r\nunexpectedness of the new appearance, and when that momentary emotion\r\nis over, we still wonder how it came to occur in that place. The\r\nimagination no longer feels the usual facility of passing from the\r\nevent which goes before to that which comes after. It is an order or\r\nlaw of succession to which it has not been accustomed, and which it\r\ntherefore finds some difficulty in following, or in attending to. The\r\nfancy is stopped and interrupted in that natural movement or career,\r\naccording to which it was proceeding. Those two events seem to stand\r\nat a distance from each other; it endeavours to bring them together,\r\nbut they refuse to unite; and it feels, or imagines it feels,\r\nsomething like a gap or interval betwixt them. It naturally hesitates,\r\nand, as it were, pauses upon the brink of this interval; it endeavours\r\nto find out something which may fill up the gap, which, like a bridge,\r\nmay so far at least unite those seemingly distant objects, as to\r\nrender the passage of the thought betwixt them smooth, and natural,\r\nand easy. The supposition of a chain of intermediate, though\r\ninvisible, events, which succeed each other in a train similar to that\r\nin which the imagination has been accustomed to move, and which links\r\ntogether those two disjointed appearances, is the only means by which\r\nthe imagination can fill up this interval, is the only bridge which,\r\nif one may say so, can smooth its passage from the one object to the\r\nother. Thus, when we observe the motion of the iron, in consequence of\r\nthat of the loadstone, we gaze and hesitate, and feel a want of\r\nconnection betwixt two events which follow one another in so unusual a\r\ntrain. But when, with Des Cartes, we imagine certain invisible\r\neffluvia to circulate round one of them, and by their repeated\r\nimpulses to impel the other, both to move towards it, and to follow\r\nits motion, we fill up the interval betwixt them, we join them\r\ntogether by a sort of bridge, and thus take off that hesitation and\r\ndifficulty which the imagination felt in passing from the one to the\r\nother. That the iron should move after the loadstone seems, upon this\r\nhypothesis, in some measure according to the ordinary course of\r\nthings. Motion after impulse is an order of succession with which of\r\nall things we are the most familiar. Two objects which are so\r\nconnected seem, to our mind, no longer to be disjointed, and the\r\nimagination flows smoothly and easily along them.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eSuch is the nature of this second species of Wonder, which arises\r\nfrom an unusual succession of things. The stop which is thereby given\r\nto the career of the imagination, the difficulty which it finds in\r\npassing along such disjointed objects, and the feeling of something\r\nlike a gap or interval betwixt them, constitute the whole essence of\r\nthis emotion. Upon the clear discovery of a connecting chain of\r\nintermediate events, \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page334\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e334\u003c/span\u003e it vanishes altogether. What obstructed the\r\nmovement of the imagination is then removed. Who wonders at the\r\nmachinery of the opera-house who has once been admitted behind the\r\nscenes? In the wonders of nature, however, it rarely happens that we\r\ncan discover so clearly this connecting chain. With regard to a few\r\neven of them, indeed, we seem to have been really admitted behind the\r\nscenes, and our wonder accordingly is entirely at an end. Thus the\r\neclipses of the sun and moon, which once, more than all the other\r\nappearances in the heavens, excited the terror and amazement of\r\nmankind, seem now no longer to be wonderful, since the connecting\r\nchain has been found out which joins them to the ordinary course of\r\nthings. Nay, in those cases in which we have been less successful,\r\neven the vague hypothesis of Des Cartes, and the yet more indetermined\r\nnotions of Aristotle, have, with their followers, contributed to give\r\nsome coherence to the appearances of nature, and might diminish,\r\nthough they could not destroy, their wonder. If they did not\r\ncompletely fill up the interval betwixt the two disjointed objects,\r\nthey bestowed upon them, however, some sort of loose connection which\r\nthey wanted before.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThat the imagination feels a real difficulty in passing along two\r\nevents which follow one another in an uncommon order, may be confirmed\r\nby many obvious observations. If it attempts to attend beyond a\r\ncertain time to a long series of this kind, the continual efforts it\r\nis obliged to make, in order to pass from one object to another, and\r\nthus follow the progress of the succession, soon fatigue it, and if\r\nrepeated too often, disorder and disjoint its whole frame. It is thus\r\nthat too severe an application to study sometimes brings on lunacy and\r\nfrenzy, in those especially who are somewhat advanced in life, but\r\nwhose imaginations, from being too late in applying, have not got\r\nthose habits which dispose them to follow easily the reasonings in the\r\nabstract sciences. Every step of a demonstration, which to an old\r\npractitioner is quite natural and easy, requires from them the most\r\nintense application of thought.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eSpurred on, however, either by ambition or by admiration for the\r\nsubject, they still continue till they become, first confused, then\r\ngiddy, and at last distracted. Could we conceive a person of the\r\nsoundest judgment, who had grown up to maturity, and whose imagination\r\nhad acquired those habits, and that mould, which the constitution of\r\nthings in this world necessarily impresses upon it, to be all at once\r\ntransported alive to some other planet, where nature was governed by\r\nlaws quite different from those which take place here; as he would be\r\ncontinually obliged to attend to events, which must to him appear in\r\nthe highest degree jarring, irregular, and discordant, he would soon\r\nfeel the same confusion and giddiness begin to come upon him, which\r\nwould at last end in the same manner, in lunacy and distraction.\r\nNeither, to produce this effect, is it necessary that the objects\r\nshould be either \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page335\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e335\u003c/span\u003e great or interesting, or even uncommon, in\r\nthemselves. It is sufficient that they follow one another in an\r\nuncommon order. Let any one attempt to look over even a game of cards,\r\nand to attend particularly to every single stroke, and if he is\r\nunacquainted with the nature and rules of the games; that is, with the\r\nlaws which regulate the succession of the cards; he will soon feel the\r\nsame confusion and giddiness begin to come upon him, which, were it to\r\nbe continued for days and months, would end in the same manner, in\r\nlunacy and distraction. But if the mind be thus thrown into the most\r\nviolent disorder, when it attends to a long series of events which\r\nfollow one another in an uncommon train, it must feel some degree of\r\nthe same disorder, when it observes even a single event fall out in\r\nthis unusual manner: for the violent disorder can arise from nothing\r\nbut the too frequent repetition of this smaller uneasiness.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThat it is the unusualness alone of the succession which occasions\r\nthis stop and interruption in the progress of the imagination as well\r\nas the notion of an interval betwixt the two immediately succeeding\r\nobjects, to be filled up by some chain of intermediate events, is not\r\nless evident. The same orders of succession, which to one set of men\r\nseem quite according to the natural course of things, and such as\r\nrequire no intermediate events to join them, shall to another appear\r\naltogether incoherent and disjointed, unless some such events be\r\nsupposed: and this for no other reason, but because such orders of\r\nsuccession are familiar to the one, and strange to the other. When we\r\nenter the work-houses of the most common artizans; such as dyers,\r\nbrewers, distillers; we observe a number of appearances, which present\r\nthemselves in an order that seems to us very strange and wonderful.\r\nOur thought cannot easily follow it, we feel an interval betwixt every\r\ntwo of them, and require some chain of intermediate events, to fill it\r\nup, and link them together. But the artizan himself, who has been for\r\nmany years familiar with the consequences of all the operations of his\r\nart, feels no such interval. They fall in with what custom has made\r\nthe natural movement of his imagination: they no longer excite his\r\nWonder, and if he is not a genius superior to his profession, so as to\r\nbe capable of making the very easy reflection, that those things,\r\nthough familiar to him, may be strange to us, he will be \u003cspan class=\"correction\" title=\"amended from dis-disposed\"\u003edisposed\u003c/span\u003e\r\nrather to laugh at, than sympathize with our Wonder. He cannot\r\nconceive what occasion there is for any connecting events to unite\r\nthose appearances, which seem to him to succeed each other very\r\nnaturally. It is their nature, he tells us, to follow one another in\r\nthis order, and that accordingly they always do so. In the same manner\r\nbread has, since the world begun been the common nourishment of the\r\nhuman body, and men have so long seen it, every day, converted into\r\nflesh and bones, substances in all respects so unlike it, that they\r\nhave seldom had the curiosity to inquire by what process of \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page336\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e336\u003c/span\u003e\r\nintermediate events this change is brought about. Because the passage\r\nof the thought from the one object to the other is by custom become\r\nquite smooth and easy, almost without the supposition of any such\r\nprocess. Philosophers, indeed, who often look for a chain of invisible\r\nobjects to join together two events that occur in an order familiar to\r\nall the world, have endeavoured to find out a chain of this kind\r\nbetwixt the two events I have just now mentioned; in the same manner\r\nas they have endeavoured, by a like intermediate chain, to connect the\r\ngravity, the elasticity, and even the cohesion of natural bodies, with\r\nsome of their other qualities. These, however, are all of them such\r\ncombinations of events as give no stop to the imaginations of the bulk\r\nof mankind, as excite no Wonder, nor any apprehension that there is\r\nwanting the strictest connection between them. But as in those sounds,\r\nwhich to the greater part of men seem perfectly agreeable to measure\r\nand harmony, the nicer ear of a musician will discover a want, both of\r\nthe most exact time, and of the most perfect coincidence; so the more\r\npractised thought of a philosopher, who has spent his whole life in\r\nthe study of the connecting principles of nature, will often feel an\r\ninterval betwixt two objects, which, to more careless observers, seem\r\nvery strictly conjoined. By long attention to all the connections\r\nwhich have ever been presented to his observation, by having often\r\ncompared them with one another, he has, like the musician, acquired,\r\nif one may so, a nicer ear, and a more delicate feeling with regard to\r\nthings of this nature. And as to the one, that music seems dissonance\r\nwhich falls short of the most perfect harmony; so to the other, those\r\nevents seem altogether separated and disjoined, which may fall short\r\nof the strictest and most perfect connection.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003ePhilosophy is the science of the connecting principles of nature.\r\nNature, after the largest experience that common observation can\r\nacquire, seems to abound with events which appear solitary and\r\nincoherent with all that go before them, which therefore disturb the\r\neasy movement of the imagination; which makes its ideas succeed each\r\nother, if one may say so, by irregular starts and sallies; and which\r\nthus tend, in some measure, to introduce those confusions and\r\ndistractions we formerly mentioned. Philosophy, by representing the\r\ninvisible chains which bind together all these disjointed objects,\r\nendeavours to introduce order into this chaos of jarring and\r\ndiscordant appearances, to allay this tumult of the imagination, and\r\nto restore it, when it surveys the great revolutions of the universe,\r\nto that tone of tranquillity and composure, which is both most\r\nagreeable in itself, and most suitable to its nature. Philosophy,\r\ntherefore, may be regarded as one of those arts which address\r\nthemselves to the imagination; and whose theory and history, upon that\r\naccount, fall properly within the circumference of our subject. Let us\r\nendeavour to trace it, from its first origin, up to that summit of\r\nperfection to which it is at present \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page337\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e337\u003c/span\u003e supposed to have arrived,\r\nand to which, indeed, it has equally been supposed to have arrived in\r\nalmost all former times. It is the most sublime of all the agreeable\r\narts, and its revolutions have been the greatest, the most frequent,\r\nand the most distinguished of all those that have happened in the\r\nliterary world. Its history, therefore, must, upon all accounts, be\r\nthe most entertaining and the most instructive. Let us examine,\r\ntherefore, all the different systems of nature, which, in these\r\nwestern parts of the world, the only parts of whose history we know\r\nanything, have successively been adopted by the learned and ingenious;\r\nand, without regarding their absurdity or probability, their agreement\r\nor inconsistency with truth and reality, let us consider them only in\r\nthat particular point of view which belongs to our subject; and\r\ncontent ourselves with inquiring how far each of them was fitted to\r\nsoothe the imagination, and to render the theatre of nature a more\r\ncoherent, and therefore a more magnificent spectacle, than otherwise\r\nit would have appeared to be. According as they have failed or\r\nsucceeded in this, they have constantly failed or succeeded in gaining\r\nreputation and renown to their authors; and this will be found to be\r\nthe clue that is most capable of conducting us through all the\r\nlabyrinths of philosophical history: for in the mean time, it will\r\nserve to confirm what has gone before, and to throw light upon what is\r\nto come after, that we observe, in general, that no system, how well\r\nsoever in other respects supported, has ever been able to gain any\r\ngeneral credit on the world, whose connecting principles were not such\r\nas were familiar to all mankind. Why has the chemical philosophy in\r\nall ages crept along in obscurity, and been so disregarded by the\r\ngenerality of mankind, while other systems, less useful, and not more\r\nagreeable to experience, have possessed universal admiration for whole\r\ncenturies together? The connecting principles of the chemical\r\nphilosophy are such as the generality of mankind know nothing about,\r\nhave rarely seen, and have never been acquainted with; and which to\r\nthem, therefore, are incapable of smoothing the passage of the\r\nimagination betwixt any two seemingly disjointed objects. Salts,\r\nsulphurs, and mercuries, acids and alkalis, are principles which can\r\nsmooth things to those only who live about the furnace; but whose most\r\ncommon operations seem, to the bulk of mankind, as disjointed as any\r\ntwo events which the chemists would connect together by them. Those\r\nartists, however, naturally explained things to themselves by\r\nprinciples that were familiar to themselves. As Aristotle observes,\r\nthat the early Pythagoreans, who first studied arithmetic, explained\r\nall things by the properties of numbers; and Cicero tells us, that\r\nAristoxenus, the musician, found the nature of the soul to consist in\r\nharmony. In the same manner, a learned physician lately gave a system\r\nof moral philosophy upon the principles of his own art, in which\r\nwisdom and virtue were the healthful state of the soul; the different\r\nvices and follies, the different diseases \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e338\u003c/span\u003e to which it was\r\nsubject; in which the causes and symptoms of those diseases were\r\nascertained; and, in the same medical strain, a proper method of cure\r\nprescribed. In the same manner also, others have written parallels of\r\npainting and poetry, of poetry and music, of music and architecture,\r\nof beauty and virtue, of all the fine arts; systems which have\r\nuniversally owed their origin to the lucubrations of those who were\r\nacquainted with the one art, but ignorant of the other; who therefore\r\nexplained to themselves the phenomena, in that which was strange to\r\nthem, by those in that which was familiar; and with whom, upon that\r\naccount, the analogy, which in other writers gives occasion to a few\r\ningenious similitudes, became the great hinge upon which every thing\r\nturned.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003chr\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e\u003ca id=\"page338\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003eSECT. Ⅲ.—\u003ci\u003eOf the Origin of Philosophy.\u003c/i\u003e\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp class=\"noind\"\u003eM\u003cspan class=\"smcap\"\u003eANKIND\u003c/span\u003e, in the first ages of society, before the establishment of\r\nlaw, order, and security, have little curiosity to find out those\r\nhidden chains of events which bind together the seemingly disjointed\r\nappearances of nature. A savage, whose subsistence is precarious,\r\nwhose life is every day exposed to the rudest dangers, has no\r\ninclination to amuse himself with searching out what, when discovered,\r\nseems to serve no other purpose than to render the theatre of nature a\r\nmore connected spectacle to his imagination. Many of these smaller\r\nincoherences, which in the course of things perplex philosophers,\r\nentirely escape his attention. Those more magnificent irregularities,\r\nwhose grandeur he cannot overlook, call forth his amazement. Comets,\r\neclipses, thunder, lightning, and other meteors, by their greatness,\r\nnaturally overawe him, and he views them with a reverence that\r\napproaches to fear. His inexperience and uncertainty with regard to\r\nevery thing about them, how they came, how they are to go, what went\r\nbefore, what is to come after them, exasperate his sentiment into\r\nterror and consternation. But our passions, as Father Malbranche\r\nobserves, all justify themselves; that is, suggest to us opinions\r\nwhich justify them. As those appearances terrify him, therefore, he is\r\ndisposed to believe every thing about them which can render them still\r\nmore the objects of his terror. That they proceed from some\r\nintelligent, though invisible causes, of whose vengeance and\r\ndispleasure they are either the signs or the effects, is the notion of\r\nall others most capable of enhancing this passion, and is that,\r\ntherefore, which he is most apt to entertain. To this, too, that\r\ncowardice and pusillanimity, so natural to man in his uncivilized\r\nstate, still more disposes him; unprotected by the laws of society,\r\nexposed, defenceless, he feels his weakness upon all occasions; his\r\nstrength and security upon none.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eBut all the irregularities of nature are not of this awful or\r\nterrible kind. Some of them are perfectly beautiful and agreeable.\r\nThese, \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page339\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e339\u003c/span\u003e therefore, from the same impotence of mind, would be\r\nbeheld with love and complacency, and even with transports of\r\ngratitude; for whatever is the cause of pleasure naturally excites our\r\ngratitude. A child caresses the fruit that is agreeable to it, as it\r\nbeats the stone that hurts it. The notions of a savage are not very\r\ndifferent. The ancient Athenians, who solemnly punished the axe which\r\nhad accidentally been the cause of the death of a man, erected altars,\r\nand offered sacrifices to the rainbow. Sentiments not unlike these,\r\nmay sometimes, upon such occasions, begin to be felt even in the\r\nbreasts of the most civilized, but are presently checked by the\r\nreflection, that the things are not their proper objects. But a\r\nsavage, whose notions are guided altogether by wild nature and\r\npassion, waits for no other proof that a thing is the proper object of\r\nany sentiment, than that it excites it. The reverence and gratitude,\r\nwith which some of the appearances of nature inspire him, convince him\r\nthat they are the proper objects of reverence and gratitude, and\r\ntherefore proceed from some intelligent beings, who take pleasure in\r\nthe expressions of those sentiments. With him, therefore, every object\r\nof nature, which by its beauty or greatness, its utility or\r\nhurtfulness, is considerable enough to attract his attention, and\r\nwhose operations are not perfectly regular, is supposed to act by the\r\ndirection of some invisible and designing power. The sea is spread out\r\ninto a calm, or heaved into a storm, according to the good pleasure of\r\nNeptune. Does the earth pour forth an exuberant harvest? It is owing\r\nto the indulgence of Ceres. Does the vine yield a plentiful vintage?\r\nIt flows from the bounty of Bacchus. Do either refuse their presents?\r\nIt is ascribed to the displeasure of those offended deities. The tree\r\nwhich now flourishes and now decays, is inhabited by a Dryad, upon\r\nwhose health or sickness its various appearances depend. The fountain,\r\nwhich sometimes flows in a copious, and sometimes in a scanty stream,\r\nwhich appears sometimes clear and limpid, and at other times muddy and\r\ndisturbed, is affected in all its changes by the Naiad who dwells\r\nwithin it. Hence the origin of Polytheism, and of that vulgar\r\nsuperstition which ascribes all the irregular events of nature to the\r\nfavour or displeasure of intelligent, though invisible beings, to\r\ngods, demons, witches, genii, fairies. For it may be observed, that in\r\nall polytheistic religions, among savages, as well as in the early\r\nages of heathen antiquity, it is the irregular events of nature only\r\nthat are ascribed to the agency and power of their gods. Fire burns,\r\nand water refreshes; heavy bodies descend, and lighter substances fly\r\nupwards, by the necessity of their own nature; nor was the invisible\r\nhand of Jupiter ever apprehended to be employed in those matters. But\r\nthunder and lightning, storms and sunshine, those more irregular\r\nevents, were ascribed to his favour, or his anger. Man, the only\r\ndesigning power with which they were acquainted, never acts but either\r\nto stop or to alter the course which natural events would take, if\r\nleft to themselves. \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page340\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e340\u003c/span\u003e Those other intelligent beings, whom they\r\nimagined, but knew not, were naturally supposed to act in the same\r\nmanner; not to employ themselves in supporting the ordinary course of\r\nthings, which went on of its own accord, but to stop, to thwart, and\r\nto disturb it. And thus, in the first ages of the world, the lowest\r\nand most pusillanimous superstition supplied the place of\r\nphilosophy.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eBut when law has established order and security, and subsistence\r\nceases to be precarious, the curiosity of mankind is increased, and\r\ntheir fears are diminished. The leisure which they then enjoy renders\r\nthem more attentive to the appearances of nature, more observant of\r\nher smallest irregularities, and more desirous to know what is the\r\nchain which links them together. That some such chain subsists betwixt\r\nall her seemingly disjointed phenomena, they are necessarily led to\r\nconceive; and that magnanimity and cheerfulness which all generous\r\nnatures acquire who are bred in civilized societies, where they have\r\nso few occasions to feel their weakness, and so many to be conscious\r\nof their strength and security, renders them less disposed to employ,\r\nfor this connecting chain, those invisible beings whom the fear and\r\nignorance of their rude forefathers had engendered. Those of liberal\r\nfortunes, whose attention is not much occupied either with business or\r\nwith pleasure, can fill up the void of their imagination, which is\r\nthus disengaged from the ordinary affairs of life, no other way than\r\nby attending to that train of events which passes around them. While\r\nthe great objects of nature thus pass in review before them, many\r\nthings occur in an order to which they have not been accustomed. Their\r\nimagination, which accompanies with ease and delight the regular\r\nprogress of nature, is stopped and embarrassed by those seeming\r\nincoherences; they excite their wonder, and seem to require some chain\r\nof intermediate events, which, by connecting them with something that\r\nhas gone before, may thus render the whole course of the universe\r\nconsistent and of a piece. Wonder, therefore, and not any expectation\r\nof advantage from its discoveries, is the first principle which\r\nprompts mankind to the study of Philosophy, of that science which\r\npretends to lay open the concealed connections that unite the various\r\nappearances of nature; and they pursue this study for its own sake, as\r\nan original pleasure or good in itself, without regarding its tendency\r\nto procure them the means of many other pleasures.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eGreece, and the Greek colonies in Sicily, Italy, and the Lesser\r\nAsia, were the first countries which, in these western parts of the\r\nworld, arrived at a state of civilized society. It was in them,\r\ntherefore, that the first philosophers, of whose doctrine we have any\r\ndistinct account, appeared. Law and order seem indeed to have been\r\nestablished in the great monarchies of Asia and Egypt, long before\r\nthey had any footing in Greece: yet, after all that has been said\r\nconcerning the learning of the Chaldeans and Egyptians, whether there\r\never was in those nations \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page341\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e341\u003c/span\u003e any thing which deserved the name of\r\nscience, or whether that despotism which is more destructive of\r\nsecurity and leisure than anarchy itself, and which prevailed over all\r\nthe East, prevented the growth of Philosophy, is a question which, for\r\nwant of monuments, cannot be determined with any degree of\r\nprecision.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe Greek colonies having been settled amid nations either\r\naltogether barbarous, or altogether unwarlike, over whom, therefore,\r\nthey soon acquired a very great authority, seem, upon that account, to\r\nhave arrived at a considerable degree of empire and opulence before\r\nany state in the parent country had surmounted that extreme poverty,\r\nwhich, by leaving no room for any evident distinction of ranks, is\r\nnecessarily attended with the confusion and misrule which flows from a\r\nwant of all regular subordination. The Greek islands being secure from\r\nthe invasion of land armies, or from naval forces, which were in those\r\ndays but little known, seem, upon that account too, to have got before\r\nthe continent in all sorts of civility and improvement. The first\r\nphilosophers, therefore, as well as the first poets, seem all to have\r\nbeen natives, either of their colonies, or of their islands. It was\r\nfrom thence that Homer, Archilochus, Stesichorus, Simonides, Sappho,\r\nAnacreon, derived their birth. Thales and Pythagoras, the founders of\r\nthe two earliest sects of philosophy, arose, the one in an Asiatic\r\ncolony, the other in an island; and neither of them established his\r\nschool in the mother country.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWhat was the particular system of either of those two philosophers,\r\nor whether their doctrine was so methodized as to deserve the name of\r\na system, the imperfection, as well as the uncertainty of all the\r\ntraditions that have come down to us concerning them, make it\r\nimpossible to determine. The school of Pythagoras, however, seems to\r\nhave advanced further in the study of the connecting principles of\r\nnature, than that of the Ionian philosopher. The accounts which are\r\ngiven of Anaximander, Anaximenes, Anaxagoras, Archelaus, the\r\nsuccessors of Thales, represent the doctrines of those sages as full\r\nof the most inextricable confusion. Something, however, that\r\napproaches to a composed and orderly system, may be traced in what is\r\ndelivered down to us concerning the doctrine of Empedocles, of\r\nArchytas, of Timæus, and of Ocellus the Lucanian, the most renowned\r\nphilosophers of the Italian school. The opinions of the two last\r\ncoincide pretty much; the one, with those of Plato; the other, with\r\nthose of Aristotle; nor do those of the two first seem to have been\r\nvery different, of whom the one was the author of the doctrine of the\r\nFour Elements, the other the inventor of the Categories; who,\r\ntherefore, may be regarded as the founders, the one, of the ancient\r\nPhysics; the other, of the ancient Dialectic; and, how closely these\r\nwere connected will appear hereafter. It was in the school of\r\nSocrates, however, from Plato and Aristotle, that Philosophy first\r\nreceived that form, which introduced her, if one \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e342\u003c/span\u003e may say so, to\r\nthe general acquaintance of the world. It is from them, therefore,\r\nthat we shall begin to give her history in any detail. Whatever was\r\nvaluable in the former systems, which was at all consistent with their\r\ngeneral principles, they seem to have consolidated into their own.\r\nFrom the Ionian philosophy, I have not been able to discover that they\r\nderived anything. From the Pythagorean school, both Plato and\r\nAristotle seem to have derived the fundamental principles of almost\r\nall their doctrines. Plato, too, appears to have borrowed something\r\nfrom two other sects of philosophers, whose extreme obscurity seems to\r\nhave prevented them from acquiring themselves any extensive\r\nreputation; the one was that of Cratylus and Heraclitus; the other was\r\nXenophanes, Parmenides, Melissus, and Zeno. To pretend to rescue the\r\nsystem of any of those ante-Socratic sages, from that oblivion which\r\nat present covers them all, would be a vain and useless attempt. What\r\nseems, however, to have been borrowed from them, shall sometimes be\r\nmarked as we go along.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThere was still another school of philosophy, earlier than Plato,\r\nfrom which, however, he was so far from borrowing any thing, that he\r\nseems to have bent the whole force of his reason to discredit and\r\nexpose its principles. This was the philosophy of Leucippus,\r\n\u003cspan class=\"correction\" title=\"amended from Democratus\"\u003eDemocritus\u003c/span\u003e, and Protagoras, which accordingly seems to have\r\nsubmitted to his eloquence, to have lain dormant, and to have been\r\nalmost forgotten for some generations, till it was afterwards more\r\nsuccessfully revived by Epicurus.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003chr\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e\u003ca id=\"page342\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003eS\u003cspan class=\"smcap\"\u003eEC.\u003c/span\u003e Ⅳ.—\u003ci\u003eThe History of Astronomy.\u003c/i\u003e\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp class=\"noind\"\u003eO\u003cspan class=\"smcap\"\u003eF\u003c/span\u003e all the phenomena of nature, the celestial appearances are, by\r\ntheir greatness and beauty, the most universal objects of the\r\ncuriosity of mankind. Those who surveyed the heavens with the most\r\ncareless attention, necessarily distinguished in them three different\r\nsorts of objects; the Sun, the Moon, and the Stars. These last,\r\nappearing always in the same situation, and at the same distance with\r\nregard to one another, and seeming to revolve every day round the\r\nearth in parallel circles, which widened gradually from the poles to\r\nthe equator, were naturally thought to have all the marks of being\r\nfixed, like so many gems, in the concave side of the firmament, and of\r\nbeing carried round by the diurnal revolutions of that solid body: for\r\nthe azure sky, in which the stars seem to float, was readily\r\napprehended, upon account of the uniformity of their apparent motions,\r\nto be a solid body, the roof or outer wall of the universe, to whose\r\ninside all those little sparkling objects were attached.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe Sun and Moon, often changing their distance and situation, in\r\nregard to the other heavenly bodies, could not be apprehended to be\r\nattached to the same sphere with them. They assigned, therefore, to\r\n\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page343\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e343\u003c/span\u003e each of them, a sphere of its own; that is, supposed each of\r\nthem to be attached to the concave side of a solid and transparent\r\nbody, by whose revolutions they were carried round the earth. There\r\nwas not, indeed, in this case, the same ground for the supposition of\r\nsuch \u003cspan class=\"correction\" title=\"omitted in error\"\u003ea\u003c/span\u003e sphere as in that of the Fixed Stars; for neither the Sun nor the\r\nMoon appear to keep always at the same distance with regard to any one\r\nof the other heavenly bodies. But as the motion of the Stars had been\r\naccounted for by an hypothesis of this kind, it rendered the theory of\r\nthe heavens more uniform, to account for that of the Sun and Moon in\r\nthe same manner. The sphere of the sun they placed above that of the\r\nMoon; as the Moon was evidently seen in eclipses to pass betwixt the\r\nSun and the Earth. Each of them was supposed to revolve by a motion of\r\nits own, and at the same time to be affected by the motion of the\r\nFixed Stars. Thus, the Sun was carried round from east to west by the\r\ncommunicated movement of this outer sphere, which produced his diurnal\r\nrevolutions, and the vicissitudes of day and night; but at the same\r\ntime he had a motion of his own, contrary to this, from west to east,\r\nwhich occasioned his annual revolution, and the continual shifting of\r\nhis place with regard to the Fixed Stars. This motion was more easy,\r\nthey thought, when carried on edgeways, and not in direct opposition\r\nto the motion of the outer sphere, which occasioned the inclination of\r\nthe axis of the sphere of the Sun, to that of the sphere of the Fixed\r\nStars; this again produced the obliquity of the ecliptic, and the\r\nconsequent changes of the seasons. The moon, being placed below the\r\nsphere of the Sun, had both a shorter course to finish, and was less\r\nobstructed by the contrary movement of the sphere of the Fixed Stars,\r\nfrom which she was farther removed. She finished her period,\r\ntherefore, in a shorter time, and required but a month, instead of a\r\nyear, to complete it.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe Stars, when more attentively surveyed, were some of them\r\nobserved to be less constant and uniform in their motions than the\r\nrest, and to change their situations with regard to the other heavenly\r\nbodies; moving generally eastward, yet appearing sometimes to stand\r\nstill, and sometimes even, to move westwards. These, to the number of\r\nfive, were distinguished by the name of Planets, or Wandering Stars,\r\nand marked with the particular appellations of Saturn, Jupiter, Mars,\r\nVenus, and Mercury. As, like the Sun and Moon, they seem to accompany\r\nthe motion of the Fixed Stars from east to west, but at the same time\r\nto have a motion of their own, which is generally from west to east;\r\nthey were each of them, as well as those two great lamps of heaven,\r\napprehended to be attached to the inside of a solid concave and\r\ntransparent sphere, which had a revolution of its own, that was almost\r\ndirectly contrary to the revolution of the outer heaven, but which, at\r\nthe same time, was hurried along by the superior violence and greater\r\nrapidity of this last.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThis is the system of concentric Spheres, the first regular system\r\nof \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page344\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e344\u003c/span\u003e Astronomy, which the world beheld, as it was taught in the\r\nItalian school before Aristotle, and his two contemporary\r\nphilosophers, Eudoxus and Callippus, had given it all the perfection\r\nwhich it is capable of receiving. Though rude and inartificial, it is\r\ncapable of connecting together, in the imagination, the grandest and\r\nthe most seemingly disjointed appearances in the heavens. The motions\r\nof the most remarkable objects in the celestial regions, the Sun, the\r\nMoon, the Fixed Stars, are sufficiently connected with one another by\r\nthis hypothesis. The eclipses of these two great luminaries are,\r\nthough not so easily calculated, as easily explained, upon this\r\nancient, as upon the modern system. When these early philosophers\r\nexplained to their disciples the very simple causes of those dreadful\r\nphenomena, it was under the seal of the most sacred secrecy, that they\r\nmight avoid the fury of the people, and not incur the imputation of\r\nimpiety, when they thus took from the gods the direction of those\r\nevents, which were apprehended to be the most terrible tokens of their\r\nimpending vengeance. The obliquity of the ecliptic, the consequent\r\nchanges of the seasons, the vicissitudes of day and night, and the\r\ndifferent lengths of both days and nights in the different seasons,\r\ncorrespond too, pretty exactly, with this ancient doctrine. And if\r\nthere had been no other bodies discoverable in the heavens, besides\r\nthe Sun, the Moon, and the Fixed Stars, this hypothesis might have\r\nstood the examinations of all ages and gone down triumphant to the\r\nremotest posterity.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIf it gained the belief of mankind by its plausibility, it\r\nattracted their wonder and admiration; sentiments that still more\r\nconfirmed their belief, by the novelty and beauty of that view of\r\nnature which it presented to the imagination. Before this system was\r\ntaught in the world, the earth was regarded as, what it appears to the\r\neye, a vast, rough, and irregular plain, the basis and foundation of\r\nthe universe, surrounded on all sides by the ocean, and whose roots\r\nextended themselves through the whole of that infinite depth which is\r\nbelow it. The sky was considered as a solid hemisphere, which covered\r\nthe earth, and united with the ocean at the extremity of the horizon.\r\nThe Sun, the Moon, and all the heavenly bodies rose out of the\r\neastern, climbed up the convex side of the heavens, and descended\r\nagain into the western ocean, and from thence, by some subterraneous\r\npassages, returned to their first chambers in the east. Nor was this\r\nnotion confined to the people, or to the poets who painted the\r\nopinions of the people; it was held by Xenophanes, founder of the\r\nEleatic philosophy, after that of the Ionian and Italian schools, the\r\nearliest that appeared in Greece. Thales of Miletus too, who,\r\naccording to Aristotle, represented the Earth as floating upon an\r\nimmense ocean of water, may have been nearly of the same opinion;\r\nnotwithstanding what we are told by Plutarch and Apuleius concerning\r\nhis astronomical discoveries, all of which must plainly have been of a\r\nmuch later date. To those \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page345\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e345\u003c/span\u003e who had no other idea of nature,\r\nbesides what they derived from so confused an account of things, how\r\nagreeable must that system have appeared, which represented the Earth\r\nas distinguished into land and water, self-balanced and suspended in\r\nthe centre of the universe, surrounded by the elements of Air and\r\nEther, and covered by eight polished and crystalline Spheres, each of\r\nwhich was distinguished by one or more beautiful and luminous bodies,\r\nand all of which revolved round their common centre, by varied, but by\r\nequable and proportionable motions. It seems to have been the beauty\r\nof this system that gave Plato the notion of something like an\r\nharmonic proportion, to be discovered in the motions and distances of\r\nthe heavenly bodies; and which suggested to the earlier Pythagoreans,\r\nthe celebrated fancy of the Music of the Spheres; a wild and romantic\r\nidea, yet such as does not ill correspond with that admiration, which\r\nso beautiful a system, recommended too by the graces of novelty, is\r\napt to inspire.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWhatever are the defects which this account of things labours\r\nunder, they are such, as to the first observers of the heavens could\r\nnot readily occur. If all the motions of the Five Planets cannot, the\r\ngreater part of them may, be easily connected by it; they and all\r\ntheir motions are the least remarkable objects in the heavens; the\r\ngreater part of mankind take no notice of them at all; and a system,\r\nwhose only defect lies in the account which it gives of them, cannot\r\nthereby be much disgraced in their opinion. If some of the appearances\r\ntoo of the Sun and Moon, the sometimes accelerated and again retarded\r\nmotions of those luminaries but ill correspond with it; these, too,\r\nare such as cannot be discovered but by the most attentive\r\nobservation, and such as we cannot wonder that the imaginations of the\r\nfirst enquirers should slur over, if one may say so, and take little\r\nnotice of.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIt was, however, to remedy those defects, that Eudoxus, the friend\r\nand auditor of Plato, found it necessary to increase the number of the\r\nCelestial Spheres. Each Planet is sometimes observed to advance\r\nforward in that eastern course which is peculiar to itself, sometimes\r\nto retire backwards, and sometimes again to stand still. To suppose\r\nthat the sphere of the planet should by its own motion, if one may say\r\nso, sometimes roll forwards, sometimes roll backwards, and sometimes\r\ndo neither the one nor the other, is contrary to all the natural\r\npropensities of the imagination, which accompanies with ease and\r\ndelight any regular and orderly motion, but feels itself perpetually\r\nstopped and interrupted, when it endeavours to attend to one so\r\ndesultory and uncertain. It would pursue, naturally and of its own\r\naccord, the direct or progressive movement of the Sphere, but is every\r\nnow and then shocked, if one may say so, and turned violently out of\r\nits natural career by the retrograde and stationary appearances of the\r\nPlanet, betwixt which and its more usual motion, the fancy feels a\r\nwant of connection, a gap or interval, which it cannot fill up, but by\r\nsupposing \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page346\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e346\u003c/span\u003e some chain of intermediate events to join them. The\r\nhypothesis of a number of other spheres revolving in the heavens,\r\nbesides those in which the luminous bodies themselves were infixed,\r\nwas the chain with which Eudoxus endeavoured to supply it. He bestowed\r\nfour of these Spheres upon each of the five Planets; one in which the\r\nluminous body itself revolved, and three others above it. Each of\r\nthese had a regular and constant, but a peculiar movement of its own,\r\nwhich it communicated to what was properly the Sphere of the Planet,\r\nand thus occasioned that diversity of motions observable in those\r\nbodies. One of these Spheres, for example, had an oscillatory motion,\r\nlike the circular pendulum of a watch. As when you turn round a watch,\r\nlike a Sphere upon its axis, the pendulum will, while turned round\r\nalong with it, still continue to oscillate, and communicate to\r\nwhatever body is comprehended within it, both its own oscillations and\r\nthe circular motion of the watch; so this oscillating Sphere, being\r\nitself turned round by the motion of the Sphere above it, communicated\r\nto the Sphere below it, that circular, as well as its own oscillatory\r\nmotions; produced by the one, the daily revolutions: by the other, the\r\ndirect, stationary, and retrograde appearances of the Planet, which\r\nderived from a third Sphere that revolution by which it performed its\r\nannual period. The motions of all these Spheres were in themselves\r\nconstant and equable, such as the imagination could easily attend to\r\nand pursue, and which connected together that otherwise incoherent\r\ndiversity of movements observable in the Sphere of the Planet. The\r\nmotions of the Sun and Moon being more regular than those of the Five\r\nPlanets, by assigning three Spheres to each of them, Eudoxus imagined\r\nhe could connect together all the diversity of movements discoverable\r\nin either. The motion of the Fixed Stars being perfectly regular, one\r\nSphere he judged sufficient for them all. So that, according to this\r\naccount, the whole number of Celestial Spheres amounted to\r\ntwenty-seven. Callippus, though somewhat younger, the contemporary of\r\nEudoxus, found that even this number was not enough to connect\r\ntogether the vast variety of movements which he discovered in those\r\nbodies, and therefore increased it to thirty-four. Aristotle, upon a\r\nyet more attentive observation, found that even all these Spheres\r\nwould not be sufficient, and therefore added twenty-two more, which\r\nincreased their number to fifty-six. Later observers discovered still\r\nnew motions, and new inequalities, in the heavens. New Spheres were\r\ntherefore still to be added to the system, and some of them to be\r\nplaced even above that of the Fixed Stars. So that in the sixteenth\r\ncentury, when Fracostorio, smit with the eloquence of Plato and\r\nAristotle, and with the regularity and harmony of their system, in\r\nitself perfectly beautiful, though it corresponds but inaccurately\r\nwith the phenomena, endeavoured to revive this ancient Astronomy,\r\nwhich had long given place to that of Ptolemy and Hipparchus, he found\r\nit necessary to multiply \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page347\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e347\u003c/span\u003e the number of Celestial Spheres to\r\nseventy-two; neither were all these found to be enough.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThis system had now become as intricate and complex as those\r\nappearances themselves, which it had been invented to render uniform\r\nand coherent. The imagination, therefore, found itself but little\r\nrelieved from that embarrassment, into which those appearances had\r\nthrown it, by so perplexed an account of things. Another system, for\r\nthis reason, not long after the days of Aristotle, was invented by\r\nApollonius, which was afterwards perfected by Hipparchus, and has\r\nsince been delivered down to us by Ptolemy, the more artificial system\r\nof Eccentric Spheres and Epicycles.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIn this system, they first distinguished between the real and\r\napparent motion of the heavenly bodies. These, they observed, upon\r\naccount of their immense distance, must necessarily appear to revolve\r\nin circles concentric with the globe of the Earth, and with one\r\nanother: but that we cannot, therefore, be certain that they really\r\nrevolve in such circles, since, though they did not, they would still\r\nhave the same appearance. By supposing, therefore, that the Sun and\r\nthe other Planets revolved in circles, whose centres were very distant\r\nfrom the centre of the Earth; that consequently, in the progress of\r\ntheir revolution, they must sometimes approach nearer, and sometimes\r\nrecede further from it, and must to its inhabitants appear to move\r\nfaster in the one case, and slower in the other, those philosophers\r\nimagined they could account for the apparently unequal velocities of\r\nall those bodies.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eBy supposing, that in the solidity of the Sphere of each of the\r\nFive Planets there was formed another little Sphere, called an\r\nEpicycle, which revolved round its own centre, at the same time that\r\nit was carried round the centre of the Earth by the revolution of the\r\ngreat Sphere, betwixt whose concave and convex sides it was inclosed;\r\nin the same manner as we might suppose a little wheel inclosed within\r\nthe outer circle of a great wheel, and which whirled about several\r\ntimes upon its own axis, while its centre was carried round the axis\r\nof the great wheel, they imagined they could account for the\r\nretrograde and stationary appearances of those most irregular objects\r\nin the heavens. The Planet, they supposed, was attached to the\r\ncircumference, and whirled round the centre of this little Sphere, at\r\nthe same time that it was carried round the earth by the movement of\r\nthe great Sphere. The revolution of this little Sphere, or Epicycle,\r\nwas such, that the Planet, when in the upper part of it; that is, when\r\nfurthest off and least sensible to the eye; was carried round in the\r\nsame direction with the centre of the Epicycle, or with the Sphere in\r\nwhich the Epicycle was inclosed: but when in the lower part, that is,\r\nwhen nearest and most sensible to the eye; it was carried round a\r\ndirection contrary to that of the centre of the Epicycle: in the same\r\nmanner as every point in the upper part of the outer circle of a\r\ncoach-wheel revolves forward in the \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page348\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e348\u003c/span\u003e same direction with the\r\naxis, while every point, in the lower part, revolves backwards in a\r\ncontrary direction to the axis. The motions of the Planet, therefore,\r\nsurveyed from the Earth, appeared direct, when in the upper part of\r\nthe Epicycle, and retrograde, when in the lower. When again it either\r\ndescended from the upper part to the lower, or ascended from the lower\r\nto the upper, it appeared stationary.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eBut, though, by the eccentricity of the great Sphere, they were\r\nthus able, in some measure, to connect together the unequal velocities\r\nof the heavenly bodies, and by the revolutions of the little Sphere,\r\nthe direct, stationary, and retrograde appearances of the Planets,\r\nthere was another difficulty that still remained. Neither the Moon,\r\nnor the three superior Planets, appear always in the same part of the\r\nheavens, when at their periods of most retarded motion, or when they\r\nare supposed to be at the greatest distance from the Earth. The\r\napogeum therefore, or the point of greatest distance from the Earth,\r\nin the Spheres of each of those bodies, must have a movement of its\r\nown, which may carry it successively through all the different points\r\nof the Ecliptic. They supposed, therefore, that while the great\r\neccentric Sphere revolved eastwards round its centre, that its centre\r\ntoo revolved westwards in a circle of its own, round the centre of the\r\nEarth, and thus carried its apogeum through all the different points\r\nof the Ecliptic.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eBut with all those combined and perplexed circles; though the\r\npatrons of this system were able to give some degree of uniformity to\r\nthe real directions of the Planets, they found it impossible so to\r\nadjust the velocities of those supposed Spheres to the phenomena, as\r\nthat the revolution of any one of them, when surveyed from its own\r\ncentre, should appear perfectly equable and uniform. From that point,\r\nthe only point in which the velocity of what moves in a circle can be\r\ntruly judged of, they would still appear irregular and inconstant, and\r\nsuch as tended to embarrass and confound the imagination. They\r\ninvented, therefore, for each of them, a new Circle, called the\r\nEqualizing Circle, from whose centre they should all appear perfectly\r\nequable: that is, they so adjusted the velocities of these Spheres, as\r\nthat, though the revolution of each of them would appear irregular\r\nwhen surveyed from its own centre, there should, however, be a point\r\ncomprehended within its circumference, from whence its motions should\r\nappear to cut off, in equal times, equal portions of the Circle, of\r\nwhich that point was supposed to be the centre.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eNothing can more evidently show how much the repose and\r\ntranquillity of the imagination is the ultimate end of philosophy,\r\nthan the invention of this Equalizing Circle. The motions of the\r\nheavenly bodies had appeared inconstant and irregular, both in their\r\nvelocities and in their directions. They were such, therefore, as\r\ntended to embarrass and confound the imagination, whenever it\r\nattempted to trace them. The invention of Eccentric Spheres, of\r\nEpicycles, and of the \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page349\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e349\u003c/span\u003e revolution of the centres of the Eccentric\r\nSpheres, tended to allay this confusion, to connect together those\r\ndisjointed appearances, and to introduce harmony and order into the\r\nmind’s conception of the movements of those bodies. It did this,\r\nhowever, but imperfectly; it introduced uniformity and coherence into\r\ntheir real directions. But their velocities, when surveyed from the\r\nonly point in which the velocity of what moves in a Circle can be\r\ntruly judged of, the centre of that Circle, still remained, in some\r\nmeasure, inconstant as before; and still, therefore, embarrassed the\r\nimagination. The mind found itself somewhat relieved from this\r\nembarrassment, when it conceived, that how irregular soever the\r\nmotions of each of those Circles might appear, when surveyed from its\r\nown centre, there was, however, in each of them, a point, from whence\r\nits revolution would appear perfectly equable and uniform, and such as\r\nthe imagination could easily follow. Those philosophers transported\r\nthemselves, in fancy, to the centres of these imaginary Circles, and\r\ntook pleasure in surveying from thence, all those fantastical motions,\r\narranged, according to that harmony and order, which it had been the\r\nend of all their researches to bestow upon them. Here, at last, they\r\nenjoyed that tranquillity and repose which they had pursued through\r\nall the mazes of this intricate hypothesis; and here they beheld this,\r\nthe most beautiful and magnificent part of the great theatre of\r\nnature, so disposed and constructed, that they could attend, with\r\ndelight, to all the revolutions and changes that occurred in it.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThese, the System of Concentric, and that of Eccentric Spheres,\r\nseem to have been the two Systems of Astronomy, that had most credit\r\nand reputation with that part of the ancient world, who applied\r\nthemselves particularly to the study of the heavens. Cleanthes,\r\nhowever, and the other philosophers of the Stoical sect who came after\r\nhim, appear to have had a system of their own, quite different from\r\neither. But though justly renowned for their skill in dialectic, and\r\nfor the security and sublimity of their moral doctrines, those sages\r\nseem never to have had any high reputation for their knowledge of the\r\nheavens; neither is the name of any one of them ever counted in the\r\ncatalogue of the great astronomers, and studious observers of the\r\nStars among the ancients. They rejected the doctrine of the Solid\r\nSpheres; and maintained, that the celestial regions were filled with a\r\nfluid ether, of too yielding a nature to carry along with it, by any\r\nmotion of its own, bodies so immensely great as the Sun, Moon, and\r\nFive Planets. These, therefore, as well as the Fixed Stars, did not\r\nderive their motion from the circumambient body, but had each of them,\r\nin itself, and peculiar to itself, a vital principle of motion, which\r\ndirected it to move with its own peculiar velocity, and its own\r\npeculiar direction. It was by this internal principle that the Fixed\r\nStars revolved directly from east to west in circles parallel to the\r\nEquator, greater or less, according to their distance or nearness to\r\nthe Poles, and with velocities so proportioned, \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page350\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e350\u003c/span\u003e that each of\r\nthem finished its diurnal period in the same time, in something less\r\nthan twenty-three hours and fifty-six minutes. It was, by a principle\r\nof the same kind, that the Sun moved westward, for they allowed of no\r\neastward motion in the heavens, but with less velocity than the Fixed\r\nStars, so as to finish his diurnal period in twenty-four hours, and,\r\nconsequently, to fall every day behind them, by a space of the heavens\r\nnearly equal to that which he passes over in four minutes; that is,\r\nnearly equal to a degree. This revolution of the Sun, too, was neither\r\ndirectly westwards, nor exactly circular; but after the Summer\r\nSolstice, his motion began gradually to decline a little southwards,\r\nappearing in his meridian to-day, further south than yesterday; and\r\nto-morrow still further south than to-day; and thus continuing every\r\nday to describe a spiral line round the Earth, which carried him\r\ngradually further and further southwards, till he arrived at the\r\nWinter Solstice. Here this spiral line began to change its direction,\r\nand to bring him gradually, every day, further and further northwards,\r\ntill it again restored him to the Summer Solstice. In the same manner\r\nthey accounted for the motion of the Moon, and that of the Five\r\nPlanets, by supposing that each of them revolved westwards, but with\r\ndirections and velocities, that were both different from one another,\r\nand continually varying; generally, however, in spherical lines, and\r\nsomewhat inclined to the Equator.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThis system seems never to have had the vogue. The system of\r\nConcentric as well as that of Eccentric Spheres gives some sort of\r\nreason, both for the constancy and equability of the motion of the\r\nFixed Stars, and for the variety and uncertainty of that of the\r\nPlanets. Each of them bestows some sort of coherence upon those\r\napparently disjointed phenomena. But this other system seems to leave\r\nthem pretty much as it found them. Ask a Stoic, why all the Fixed\r\nStars perform their daily revolutions in circles parallel to each\r\nother, though of very different diameters, and with velocities so\r\nproportioned that they all finish their period at the same time, and\r\nthrough the whole course of it preserve the same distance and\r\nsituation with regard to one another? He can give no other answer, but\r\nthat the peculiar nature, or if one may say so, the caprice of each\r\nStar directs it to move in that peculiar manner. His system affords\r\nhim no principle of connection, by which he can join together, in his\r\nimagination, so great a number of harmonious revolutions. But either\r\nof the other two systems, by the supposition of the solid firmament,\r\naffords this easily. He is equally at a loss to connect together the\r\npeculiarities that are observed in the motions of the other heavenly\r\nbodies; the spiral motion of them all; their alternate progression\r\nfrom north to south, and from south to north; the sometimes\r\naccelerated, and again retarded motions of the Sun and Moon; the\r\ndirect retrograde and stationary appearances of the Planets. All these\r\nhave, in his system, \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page351\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e351\u003c/span\u003e no bond of union, but remain as loose and\r\nincoherent in the fancy, as they at first appeared to the senses,\r\nbefore philosophy had attempted, by giving them a new arrangement, by\r\nplacing them at different distances, by assigning to each some\r\npeculiar but regular principle of motion, to methodize and dispose\r\nthem into an order that should enable the imagination to pass as\r\nsmoothly, and with as little embarrassment, along them, as along the\r\nmost regular, most familiar, and most coherent appearances of\r\nnature.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eSuch were the systems of Astronomy that, in the ancient world,\r\nappear to have been adopted by any considerable party. Of all of them,\r\nthe system of Eccentric Spheres was that which corresponded most\r\nexactly with the appearances of the heavens. It was not invented till\r\nafter those appearances had been observed, with some accuracy, for\r\nmore than a century together; and it was not completely digested by\r\nPtolemy till the reign of Antoninus, after a much longer course of\r\nobservations. We cannot wonder, therefore, that it was adapted to a\r\nmuch greater number of the phenomena, than either of the other two\r\nsystems, which had been formed before those phenomena were observed\r\nwith any degree of attention, which, therefore, could connect them\r\ntogether only while they were thus regarded in the gross, but which,\r\nit could not be expected, should apply to them when they came to be\r\nconsidered in the detail. From the time of Hipparchus, therefore, this\r\nsystem seems to have been pretty generally received by all those who\r\nattended particularly to the study of the heavens. That astronomer\r\nfirst made a catalogue of the Fixed Stars; calculated, for six hundred\r\nyears, the revolutions of the Sun, Moon, and Five Planets; marked the\r\nplaces in the heavens, in which, during all that period, each of those\r\nbodies should appear; ascertained the times of the eclipses of the Sun\r\nand Moon, and the particular places of the Earth in which they should\r\nbe visible. His calculations were founded upon this system, and as the\r\nevents corresponded to his predictions, with a degree of accuracy\r\nwhich, though inferior to what Astronomy has since arrived at, was\r\ngreatly superior to any thing which the world had then known, they\r\nascertained, to all astronomers and mathematicians, the preference of\r\nhis system, above all those which had been current before.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIt was, however, to astronomers and mathematicians, only, that they\r\nascertained this; for, notwithstanding the evident superiority of this\r\nsystem, to all those with which the world was then acquainted, it was\r\nnever adopted by one sect of philosophers.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003ePhilosophers, long before the days of Hipparchus, seem to have\r\nabandoned the study of nature, to employ themselves chiefly in\r\nethical, rhetorical, and dialectical questions. Each party of them\r\ntoo, had by this time completed their peculiar system or theory of the\r\nuniverse, and no human consideration could then have induced them to\r\ngive up any part of it. That supercilious and ignorant contempt too,\r\nwith \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page352\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e352\u003c/span\u003e which at this time they regarded all mathematicians, among\r\nwhom they counted astronomers, seems even to have hindered them from\r\nenquiring so far into their doctrines as to know what opinions they\r\nheld. Neither Cicero nor Seneca, who have so often occasion to mention\r\nthe ancient systems of Astronomy, takes any notice of that of\r\nHipparchus. His name is not to be found in the writings of Seneca. It\r\nis mentioned but once in those of Cicero, in a letter to Atticus, but\r\nwithout any note of approbation, as a geographer, and not as an\r\nastronomer. Plutarch, when he counts up, in his second book,\r\nconcerning the opinions of philosophers, all the ancient systems of\r\nAstronomy, never mentions this, the only tolerable one which was known\r\nin his time. Those three authors, it seems, conversed only with the\r\nwritings of philosophers. The elder Pliny, indeed, a man whose\r\ncuriosity extended itself equally to every part of learning, describes\r\nthe system of Hipparchus, and never mentions its author, which he has\r\noccasion to do often, without some note of that high admiration which\r\nhe had so justly conceived for his merit. Such profound ignorance in\r\nthose professed instructors of mankind, with regard to so important a\r\npart of the learning of their own times, is so very remarkable, that I\r\nthought it deserved to be taken notice of, even in this short account\r\nof the revolutions of the philosophy of the ancients.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eSystems in many respects resemble machines. A machine is a little\r\nsystem, created to perform, as well as to connect together, in\r\nreality, those different movements and effects which the artist has\r\noccasion for. A system is an imaginary machine invented to connect\r\ntogether in the fancy those different movements and effects which are\r\nalready in reality performed. The machines that are first invented to\r\nperform any particular movement are always the most complex, and\r\nsucceeding artists generally discover that, with fewer wheels, with\r\nfewer principles of motion, than had originally been employed, the\r\nsame effects may be more easily produced. The first systems, in the\r\nsame manner, are always the most complex, and a particular connecting\r\nchain, or principle, is generally thought necessary to unite every two\r\nseemingly disjointed appearances: but it often happens, that one great\r\nconnecting principle is afterwards found to be sufficient to bind\r\ntogether all the discordant phenomena that occur in a whole species of\r\nthings. How many wheels are necessary to carry on the movements of\r\nthis imaginary machine, the system of Eccentric Spheres! The westward\r\ndiurnal revolution of the Firmament, whose rapidity carries all the\r\nother heavenly bodies along with it, requires one. The periodical\r\neastward revolutions of the Sun, Moon, and Five Planets, require, for\r\neach of those bodies, another. Their differently accelerated and\r\nretarded motions require, that those wheels, or circles, should\r\nneither be concentric with the Firmament, nor with one another; which,\r\nmore than any thing, seems to disturb the harmony of the universe. The\r\n\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page353\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e353\u003c/span\u003e retrograde and stationary appearance of the Five Planets, as\r\nwell as the extreme inconstancy of the Moon’s motion, require, for\r\neach of them, an Epicycle, another little wheel attached to the\r\ncircumference of the great wheel, which still more interrupts the\r\nuniformity of the system. The motion of the apogeum of each of those\r\nbodies requires, in each of them, still another wheel, to carry the\r\ncentres of their Eccentric Spheres round the centre of the Earth. And\r\nthus, this imaginary machine, though, perhaps, more simple, and\r\ncertainly better adapted to the phenomena than the Fifty-six Planetary\r\nSpheres of Aristotle, was still too intricate and complex for the\r\nimagination to rest in it with complete tranquillity and\r\nsatisfaction.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIt maintained its authority, however, without any diminution of\r\nreputation, as long as science was at all regarded in the ancient\r\nworld. After the reign of Antoninus, and, indeed, after the age of\r\nHipparchus, who lived almost three hundred years before Antoninus, the\r\ngreat reputation which the earlier philosophers had acquired, so\r\nimposed upon the imaginations of mankind, that they seem to have\r\ndespaired of ever equalling their renown. All human wisdom, they\r\nsupposed, was comprehended in the writings of those elder sages. To\r\nabridge, to explain, and to comment upon them, and thus show\r\nthemselves, at least, capable of understanding some of their sublime\r\nmysteries, became now the only road to reputation. Proclus and Theon\r\nwrote commentaries upon the system of Ptolemy; but, to have attempted\r\nto invent a new one, would then have been regarded, not only as\r\npresumption, but as impiety to the memory of their so much revered\r\npredecessors.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe ruin of the empire of the Romans, and, along with it, the\r\nsubversion of all law and order, which happened a few centuries\r\nafterwards, produced the entire neglect of that study of the\r\nconnecting principles of nature, to which leisure and security can\r\nalone give occasion. After the fall of those great conquerors and\r\ncivilizers of mankind, the empire of the Caliphs seems to have been\r\nthe first state under which the world enjoyed that degree of\r\ntranquillity which the cultivation of the sciences requires. It was\r\nunder the protection of those generous and magnificent princes, that\r\nthe ancient philosophy and astronomy of the Greeks were restored and\r\nestablished in the East; that tranquillity, which their mild, just,\r\nand religious government diffused over their vast empire, revived the\r\ncuriosity of mankind, to inquire into the connecting principles of\r\nnature. The \u003cspan class=\"correction\" title=\"amended from same\"\u003efame\u003c/span\u003e of the Greek and Roman learning, which was then\r\nrecent in the memories of men, made them desire to know, concerning\r\nthese abstruse subjects, what were the doctrines of the so much\r\nrenowned sages of those two nations.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThey translated, therefore, into the Arabian language, and studied,\r\nwith great eagerness, the works of many Greek philosophers,\r\nparticularly of Aristotle, Ptolemy, Hippocrates, and Galen. The\r\nsuperiority which they easily discovered in them, above the rude\r\nessays which \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page354\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e354\u003c/span\u003e their own nation had yet had time to produce, and\r\nwhich were such, we may suppose, as arise every where in the first\r\ninfancy of science, necessarily determined them to embrace their\r\nsystems, particularly that of Astronomy: neither were they ever\r\nafterwards able to throw off their authority. For, though the\r\nmunificence of the Abassides, the second race of the Caliphs, is said\r\nto have supplied the Arabian astronomers with larger and better\r\ninstruments than any that were known to Ptolemy and Hipparchus, the\r\nstudy of the sciences seems, in that mighty empire, to have been\r\neither of too short, or too interrupted a continuance, to allow them\r\nto make any considerable correction in the doctrines of those old\r\nmathematicians. The imaginations of mankind had not yet got time to\r\ngrow so familiar with the ancient systems, as to regard them without\r\nsome degree of that astonishment which their grandeur and novelty\r\nexcited; a novelty of a peculiar kind, which had at once the grace of\r\nwhat was new, and the authority of what was ancient. They were still,\r\ntherefore, too much enslaved to those systems, to dare to depart from\r\nthem, when those confusions which shook, and at last overturned the\r\npeaceful throne of the Caliphs, banished the study of the sciences\r\nfrom that empire. They had, however, before this, made some\r\nconsiderable improvements: they had measured the obliquity of the\r\nEcliptic, with more accuracy than had been done before. The tables of\r\nPtolemy had, by the length of time, and by the inaccuracy of the\r\nobservations upon which they were founded, become altogether wide of\r\nwhat was the real situation of the heavenly bodies, as he himself\r\nindeed had foretold they would do. It became necessary, therefore, to\r\nform new ones, which was accordingly executed by the orders of the\r\nCaliph Almamon, under whom, too, was made the first mensuration of the\r\nEarth that we know off, after the commencement of the Christian era,\r\nby two Arabian astronomers, who, in the plain of Sennaar, measured two\r\ndegrees of its circumference.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe victorious arms of the Saracens carried into Spain the\r\nlearning, as well as the gallantry, of the East; and along with it,\r\nthe tables of Almamon, and the Arabian translations of Ptolemy and\r\nAristotle; and thus Europe received a second time, from Babylon, the\r\nrudiments of the science of the heavens. The writings of Ptolemy were\r\ntranslated from Arabic into Latin; and the Peripatetic philosophy was\r\nstudied in Averroes and Avicenna with as much eagerness and as much\r\nsubmission to its doctrines in the West, as it had been in the\r\nEast.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe doctrine of the Solid Spheres had, originally, been invented,\r\nin order to give a physical account of the revolutions of the heavenly\r\nbodies, according to the system of Concentric Circles, to which that\r\ndoctrine was very easily accommodated. Those mathematicians who\r\ninvented the doctrine of Eccentric Circles and Epicycles, contented\r\nthemselves with showing, how, by supposing the heavenly bodies to\r\nrevolve in such orbits, the phenomena might be connected together,\r\n\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page355\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e355\u003c/span\u003e and some sort of uniformity and coherence be bestowed upon their\r\nreal motions. The physical causes of those motions they left to the\r\nconsideration of the philosophers; though, as appears from some\r\npassages of Ptolemy, they had some general apprehension, that they\r\nwere to be explained by a like hypothesis. But, though the system of\r\nHipparchus was adopted by all astronomers and mathematicians, it never\r\nwas received, as we have already observed, by any one sect of\r\nphilosophers among the ancients. No attempt, therefore, seems to have\r\nbeen made amongst them, to accommodate to it any such hypothesis.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe schoolmen, who received, at once, from the Arabians, the\r\nphilosophy of Aristotle, and the astronomy of Hipparchus, were\r\nnecessarily obliged to reconcile them to one another, and to connect\r\ntogether the revolutions of the Eccentric Circles and Epicycles of the\r\none, by the solid Spheres of the other. Many different attempts of\r\nthis kind were made by many different philosophers: but, of them all,\r\nthat of Purbach, in the fifteenth century, was the happiest and the\r\nmost esteemed. Though his hypothesis is the simplest of any of them,\r\nit would be in vain to describe it without a scheme; neither is it\r\neasily intelligible with one; for, if the system of Eccentric Circles\r\nand Epicycles was before too perplexed and intricate for the\r\nimagination to rest in it with complete tranquillity and satisfaction,\r\nit became much more so, when this addition had been made to it. The\r\nworld, justly indeed, applauded the ingenuity of that philosopher, who\r\ncould unite, so happily, two such seemingly inconsistent systems. His\r\nlabours, however, seem rather to have increased than to have\r\ndiminished the causes of that dissatisfaction, which the learned soon\r\nbegan to feel with the system of Ptolemy. He, as well as all those who\r\nhad worked upon the same plan before, by rendering this account of\r\nthings more complex, rendered it more embarrassing than it had been\r\nbefore.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eNeither was the complexness of this system the sole cause of the\r\ndissatisfaction, which the world in general began, soon after the days\r\nof Purbach, to express for it. The tables of Ptolemy having, upon\r\naccount of the inaccuracy of the observations on which they were\r\nfounded, become altogether wide of the real situation of the heavenly\r\nbodies, those of Almamon, in the ninth century, were, upon the same\r\nhypothesis, composed to correct their deviations. These again, a few\r\nages afterwards, became, for the same reason, equally useless. In the\r\nthirteenth century, Alphonsus, the philosophical King of Castile,\r\nfound it necessary to give orders for the composition of those tables,\r\nwhich bear his name. It is he, who is so well known for the whimsical\r\nimpiety of using to say, that, had he been consulted at the creation\r\nof the universe, he could have given good advice; an apophthegm which\r\nis supposed to have proceeded from his dislike to the intricate system\r\nof Ptolemy. In the fifteenth century, the deviation of the Alphonsine\r\ntables began to be as sensible, as those of Ptolemy and \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page356\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e356\u003c/span\u003e Almamon\r\nhad been before. It appeared evident, therefore, that, though the\r\nsystem of Ptolemy might, in the main, be true, certain corrections\r\nwere necessary to be made in it before it could be brought to\r\ncorrespond with exact precision to the phenomena. For the revolution\r\nof his Eccentric Circles and Epicycles, supposing them to exist, could\r\nnot, it was evident, be precisely such as he represented them; since\r\nthe revolutions of the heavenly bodies deviated, in a short time, so\r\nwidely from what the most exact calculations, that were founded upon\r\nhis hypothesis, represented them. It had plainly, therefore, become\r\nnecessary to correct, by more accurate observations, both the\r\nvelocities and directions of all the wheels and circles of which his\r\nhypothesis is composed. This, accordingly, was begun by Purbach, and\r\ncarried on by Regiomontanus, the disciple, the continuator, and the\r\n\u003cspan class=\"correction\" title=\"amended from perfector\"\u003eperfecter\u003c/span\u003e of the system of Purbach; and one, whose untimely death,\r\namidst innumerable projects for the recovery of old, and the invention\r\nand advancement of new sciences, is, even at this day, to be\r\nregretted.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWhen you have convinced the world, that an established system ought\r\nto be corrected, it is not very difficult to persuade them that it\r\nshould be destroyed. Not long, therefore, after the death of\r\nRegiomontanus, Copernicus began to meditate a new system, which should\r\nconnect together the new appearances, in a more simple as well as a\r\nmore accurate manner, than that of Ptolemy.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe confusion, in which the old hypothesis represented the motions\r\nof the heavenly bodies, was, he tells us, what first suggested to him\r\nthe design of forming a new system, that these, the noblest works of\r\nnature, might no longer appear devoid of that harmony and proportion\r\nwhich discover themselves in her meanest productions. What most of all\r\ndissatisfied him, was the notion of the Equalizing Circle, which, by\r\nrepresenting the revolutions of the Celestial Spheres, as equable\r\nonly, when surveyed from a point that was different from their\r\ncentres, introduced a real inequality into their motions; contrary to\r\nthat most natural, and indeed fundamental idea, with which all the\r\nauthors of astronomical systems, Plato, Eudoxus, Aristotle, even\r\nHipparchus and Ptolemy themselves, had hitherto set out, that the real\r\nmotions of such beautiful and divine objects must necessarily be\r\nperfectly regular, and go on, in a manner, as agreeable to the\r\nimagination, as the objects themselves are to the senses. He began to\r\nconsider, therefore, whether, by supposing the heavenly bodies to be\r\narranged in a different order from that in which Aristotle and\r\nHipparchus has placed them, this so much sought for uniformity might\r\nnot be bestowed upon their motions. To discover this arrangement, he\r\nexamined all the obscure traditions delivered down to us, concerning\r\nevery other hypothesis which the ancients had invented, for the same\r\npurpose. He found, in Plutarch, that some old Pythagoreans had\r\nrepresented the Earth as revolving in the centre of the universe, like\r\na wheel round its own axis; and that \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page357\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e357\u003c/span\u003e others, of the same sect,\r\nhad removed it from the centre, and represented it as revolving in the\r\nEcliptic like a star round the central fire. By this central fire, he\r\nsupposed they meant the Sun; and though in this he was very widely\r\nmistaken, it was, it seems, upon this interpretation, that he began to\r\nconsider how such an hypothesis might be made to correspond to the\r\nappearances. The supposed authority of these old philosophers, if it\r\ndid not originally suggest to him his system, seems, at least, to have\r\nconfirmed him in an opinion, which, it is not improbable, that he had\r\nbeforehand other reasons for embracing, notwithstanding what he\r\nhimself would affirm to the contrary.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIt then occurred to him, that, if the Earth was supposed to revolve\r\nevery day round its axis, from west to east, all the heavenly bodies\r\nwould appear to revolve, in a contrary direction, from east to west.\r\nThe diurnal revolution of the heavens, upon this hypothesis, might be\r\nonly apparent; the firmament, which has no other sensible motion,\r\nmight be perfectly at rest; while the Sun, the Moon, and the Five\r\nPlanets, might have no other movement beside that eastward revolution,\r\nwhich is peculiar to themselves. That, by supposing the Earth to\r\nrevolve with the Planets, round the Sun, in an orbit, which\r\ncomprehended within it the orbits of Venus and Mercury, but was\r\ncomprehended within those of Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn, he could,\r\nwithout the embarrassment of Epicycles, connect together the apparent\r\nannual revolutions of the Sun, and the direct, retrograde, and\r\nstationary appearances of the Planets: that while the Earth really\r\nrevolved round the Sun on one side of the heavens, the Sun would\r\nappear to revolve round the Earth on the other; that while she really\r\nadvanced in her annual course, he would appear to advance eastward in\r\nthat movement which is peculiar to himself. That, by supposing the\r\naxis of the Earth to be always parallel to itself, not to be quite\r\nperpendicular, but somewhat inclined to the plane of her orbit, and\r\nconsequently to present to the Sun, the one pole when on the one side\r\nof him, and the other when on the other, he would account for the\r\nobliquity of the Ecliptic; the Sun’s seemingly alternate progression\r\nfrom north to south, and from south to north, the consequent change of\r\nthe seasons, and different lengths of the days and nights in the\r\ndifferent seasons.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIf this new hypothesis thus connected together all these\r\nappearances as happily as that of Ptolemy, there were others which it\r\nconnected together much better. The three superior Planets, when\r\nnearly in conjunction with the Sun, appear always at the greatest\r\ndistance from the Earth, are smallest, and least sensible to the eye,\r\nand seem to revolve forward in their direct motion with the greatest\r\nrapidity. On the contrary, when in opposition to the Sun, that is,\r\nwhen in their meridian about midnight, they appear nearest the Earth,\r\nare largest, and most sensible to the eye, and seem to revolve\r\nbackwards in their retrograde motion. To explain these appearances,\r\nthe system of Ptolemy supposed \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page358\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e358\u003c/span\u003e each of these Planets to be at\r\nthe upper part of their several Epicycles, in the one case; and at the\r\nlower, in the other. But it afforded no satisfactory principle of\r\nconnection, which could lead the mind easily to conceive how the\r\nEpicycles of those Planets, whose spheres were so distant from the\r\nsphere of the Sun, should thus, if one may say so, keep time to his\r\nmotion. The system of Copernicus afforded this easily, and like a more\r\nsimple machine, without the assistance of Epicycles, connected\r\ntogether, by fewer movements, the complex appearances of the heavens.\r\nWhen the superior Planets appear nearly in conjunction with the Sun,\r\nthey are then in the side of their orbits, which is almost opposite\r\nto, and most distant from the Earth, and therefore appear smallest,\r\nand least sensible to the eye. But, as they then revolve in a\r\ndirection which is almost contrary to that of the Earth, they appear\r\nto advance forward with double velocity; as a ship, that sails in a\r\ncontrary direction to another, appears from that other, to sail both\r\nwith its own velocity, and the velocity of that from which it is seen.\r\nOn the contrary, when those Planets are in opposition to the Sun, they\r\nare on the same side of the Sun with the Earth, are nearest it, most\r\nsensible to the eye, and revolve in the same direction with it; but,\r\nas their revolutions round the Sun are slower than that of the Earth,\r\nthey are necessarily left behind by it, and therefore seem to revolve\r\nbackwards; as a ship which sails slower than another, though it sails\r\nin the same direction, appears from that other to sail backwards.\r\nAfter the same manner, by the same annual revolution of the Earth, he\r\nconnected together the direct and retrograde motions of the two\r\ninferior Planets, as well as the stationary appearances of all the\r\nFive.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThere are some other particular phenomena of the two inferior\r\nPlanets, which correspond still better to this system, and still worse\r\nto that of Ptolemy. Venus and Mercury seem to attend constantly upon\r\nthe motion of the Sun, appearing, sometimes on the one side, and\r\nsometimes on the other, of that great luminary; Mercury being almost\r\nalways buried in his rays, and Venus never receding above forty-eight\r\ndegrees from him, contrary to what is observed in the other three\r\nPlanets, which are often seen in the opposite side of the heavens, at\r\nthe greatest possible distance from the Sun. The system of Ptolemy\r\naccounted for this, by supposing that the centres of the Epicycles of\r\nthese two Planets were always in the same line with those of the Sun\r\nand the Earth; that they appeared therefore in conjunction with the\r\nSun, when either in the upper or lower part of their Epicycles, and at\r\nthe greatest distance from him, when in the sides of them. It\r\nassigned, however, no reason why the Epicycles of these two Planets\r\nshould observe so different a rule from that which takes place in\r\nthose of the other three, nor for the enormous Epicycle of Venus,\r\nwhose sides must have been forty-eight degrees distant from the Sun,\r\nwhile its centre was in conjunction with him, and whose diameter must\r\nhave covered \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page359\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e359\u003c/span\u003e more than a quadrant of the Great Circle. But how\r\neasily all these appearances coincide with the hypothesis, which\r\nrepresents those two inferior Planets revolving round the Sun in\r\norbits comprehended within the orbit of the Earth, is too obvious to\r\nrequire an explanation.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThus far did this new account of things render the appearances of\r\nthe heavens more completely coherent than had been done by any of the\r\nformer systems. It did this, too, by a more simple and intelligible,\r\nas well as more beautiful machinery. It represented the Sun, the great\r\nenlightener of the universe, whose body was alone larger than all the\r\nPlanets taken together, as established immovable in the centre,\r\nshedding light and heat on all the worlds that circulated around him\r\nin one uniform direction, but in longer or shorter periods, according\r\nto their different distances. It took away the diurnal revolution of\r\nthe firmament, whose rapidity, upon the old hypothesis, was beyond\r\nwhat even thought could conceive. It not only delivered the\r\nimagination from the embarrassment of Epicycles, but from the\r\ndifficulty of conceiving these two opposite motions going on at the\r\nsame time, which the system of Ptolemy and Aristotle bestowed upon all\r\nthe Planets; I mean, their diurnal westward, and periodical eastward\r\nrevolutions. The Earth’s revolution round its own axis took away the\r\nnecessity for supposing the first, and the second was easily conceived\r\nwhen by itself. The Five Planets, which seem, upon all other systems,\r\nto be objects of a species by themselves, unlike to every thing to\r\nwhich the imagination has been accustomed, when supposed to revolve\r\nalong with the Earth round the Sun, were naturally apprehended to be\r\nobjects of the same kind with the Earth, habitable, opaque, and\r\nenlightened only by the rays of the Sun. And thus this hypothesis, by\r\nclassing them in the same species of things, with an object that is of\r\nall others the most familiar to us, took off that wonder and that\r\nuncertainty which the strangeness and singularity of their appearance\r\nhad excited; and thus far, too, better answered the great end of\r\nPhilosophy.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eNeither did the beauty and simplicity of this system alone\r\nrecommend it to the imagination; the novelty and unexpectedness of\r\nthat view of nature, which it opened to the fancy, excited more wonder\r\nand surprise than the strangest of those appearances, which it had\r\nbeen invented to render natural and familiar, and these sentiments\r\nstill more endeared it. For, though it is the end of Philosophy, to\r\nallay that wonder, which either the unusual or seemingly disjointed\r\nappearances of nature excite, yet she never triumphs so much, as when,\r\nin order to connect together a few, in themselves, perhaps,\r\ninconsiderable objects, she has, if I may say so, created another\r\nconstitution of things, more natural, indeed, and such as the\r\nimagination can more easily attend to, but more new, more contrary to\r\ncommon opinion and expectation, than any of those appearances\r\nthemselves. As, in the instance before us, in order to connect\r\ntogether some seeming irregularities in the motions of \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page360\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e360\u003c/span\u003e the\r\nPlanets, the most inconsiderable objects in the heavens, and of which\r\nthe greater part of mankind have no occasion to take any notice during\r\nthe whole course of their lives, she has, to talk in the hyperbolical\r\nlanguage of Tycho Brahe, moved the Earth from its foundations, stopped\r\nthe revolution of the Firmament, made the Sun stand still, and\r\nsubverted the whole order of the Universe.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eSuch were the advantages of this new hypothesis, as they appeared\r\nto its author, when he first invented it. But, though that love of\r\nparadox, so natural to the learned, and that pleasure, which they are\r\nso apt to take in exciting, by the novelties of their supposed\r\ndiscoveries, the amazement of mankind, may, notwithstanding what one\r\nof his disciples tells us to the contrary, have had its weight in\r\nprompting Copernicus to adopt this system; yet, when he had completed\r\nhis Treatise of Revolutions, and began coolly to consider what a\r\nstrange doctrine he was about to offer to the world, he so much\r\ndreaded the prejudice of mankind against it, that, by a species of\r\ncontinence, of all others the most difficult to a philosopher, he\r\ndetained it in his closet for thirty years together. At last, in the\r\nextremity of old age, he allowed it to be extorted from him, but he\r\ndied as soon as it was printed, and before it was published to the\r\nworld.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWhen it appeared in the world, it was almost universally\r\ndisapproved of, by the learned as well as by the ignorant. The natural\r\nprejudices of sense, confirmed by education, prevailed too much with\r\nboth, to allow them to give it a fair examination. A few disciples\r\nonly, whom he himself had instructed in his doctrine, received it with\r\nesteem and admiration. One of them, Reinholdus, formed, upon this\r\nhypothesis, larger and more accurate astronomical tables, than what\r\naccompanied the Treatise of Revolutions, in which Copernicus had been\r\nguilty of some errors in calculation. It soon appeared, that these\r\nPrutenic Tables, as they were called, corresponded more exactly with\r\nthe heavens, than the Tables of Alphonsus. This ought naturally to\r\nhave formed a prejudice in favour of the diligence and accuracy of\r\nCopernicus in observing the heavens. But it ought to have formed none\r\nin favour of his hypothesis; since the same observations, and the\r\nresult of the same calculations, might have been accommodated to the\r\nsystem of Ptolemy, without making any greater alteration in that\r\nsystem than what Ptolemy had foreseen, and had even foretold should be\r\nmade. It formed, however, a prejudice in favour of both, and the\r\nlearned began to examine, with some attention, an hypothesis which\r\nafforded the easiest methods of calculation, and upon which the most\r\nexact predictions had been made. The superior degree of coherence,\r\nwhich it bestowed upon the celestial appearances, the simplicity and\r\nuniformity which it introduced into the real directions and velocities\r\nof the Planets, soon disposed many astronomers, first to favour, and\r\nat last to embrace a system, which thus connected together so happily,\r\n\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page361\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e361\u003c/span\u003e the most disjointed of those objects that chiefly occupied their\r\nthoughts. Nor can any thing more evidently demonstrate, how easily the\r\nlearned give up the evidence of their senses to preserve the coherence\r\nof the ideas of their imagination, than the readiness with which this,\r\nthe most violent paradox in all philosophy, was adopted by many\r\ningenious astronomers, notwithstanding its inconsistency with every\r\nsystem of physics then known in the world, and notwithstanding the\r\ngreat number of other more real objections, to which, as Copernicus\r\nleft it, this account of things was most justly exposed.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIt was adopted, however, nor can this be wondered at, by\r\nastronomers only. The learned in all other sciences, continued to\r\nregard it with the same contempt as the vulgar. Even astronomers were\r\ndivided about its merit; and many of them rejected a doctrine, which\r\nnot only contradicted the established system of Natural Philosophy,\r\nbut which, considered astronomically only, seemed, to them, to labour\r\nunder several difficulties.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eSome of the objections against the motion of the Earth, that were\r\ndrawn from the prejudices of sense, the patrons of this system,\r\nindeed, easily enough got over. They represented, that the Earth might\r\nreally be in motion, though, to its inhabitants, it seemed to be at\r\nrest; and that the Sun and Fixed Stars might really be at rest, though\r\nfrom the Earth they seemed to be in motion; in the same manner as a\r\nship, which sails through a smooth sea, seems to those who are in it,\r\nto be at rest, though really in motion; while the objects which she\r\npasses along, seem to be in motion, though really at rest.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eBut there were some other objections, which, though grounded upon\r\nthe same natural prejudices, they found it more difficult to get over.\r\nThe earth had always presented itself to the senses, not only as at\r\nrest, but as inert, ponderous, and even averse to motion. The\r\nimagination had always been accustomed to conceive it as such, and\r\nsuffered the greatest violence, when obliged to pursue, and attend it,\r\nin that rapid motion which the system of Copernicus bestowed upon it.\r\nTo enforce their objection, the adversaries of this hypothesis were at\r\npains to calculate the extreme rapidity of this motion. They\r\nrepresented, that the circumference of the Earth had been computed to\r\nbe above twenty-thousand miles: if the Earth, therefore, was supposed\r\nto revolve every day round its axis, every point of it near the\r\nequator would pass over above twenty-three thousand miles in a day;\r\nand consequently, near a thousand miles in an hour, and about sixteen\r\nmiles in a minute; a motion more rapid than that of a cannon ball, or\r\neven than the swifter progress of sound. The rapidity of its\r\nperiodical revolution was yet more violent than that of its diurnal\r\nrotation. How, therefore, could the imagination ever conceive so\r\nponderous a body to be naturally endowed with so dreadful a movement?\r\nThe Peripatetic Philosophy, the only philosophy then known in the\r\nworld, still further confirmed \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page362\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e362\u003c/span\u003e this prejudice. That philosophy,\r\nby a very natural, though, perhaps, groundless distinction, divided\r\nall motion into Natural and Violent. Natural motion was that which\r\nflowed from an innate tendency in the body, as when a stone fell\r\ndownwards: Violent motion, that which arose from external force, and\r\nwhich was, in some measure, contrary to the natural tendency of the\r\nbody, as when a stone was thrown upwards, or horizontally. No violent\r\nmotion could be lasting; for, being constantly weakened by the natural\r\ntendency of the body, it would soon be destroyed. The natural motion\r\nof the Earth, as was evident in all its parts, was downwards, in a\r\nstraight line to the centre; as that of fire and air was upwards, in a\r\nstraight line from the centre. It was the heavens only that revolved\r\nnaturally in a circle. Neither, therefore, the supposed revolution of\r\nthe Earth round its own centre, nor that round the Sun, could be\r\nnatural motions; they must therefore be violent, and consequently\r\ncould be of no long continuance. It was in vain that Copernicus\r\nreplied, that gravity was, probably, nothing else besides a tendency\r\nin the different parts of the same Planet, to unite themselves to one\r\nanother; that this tendency took place, probably, in the parts of the\r\nother Planets, as well as in those of the Earth; that it could very\r\nwell be united with a circular motion; that it might be equally\r\nnatural to the whole body of the Planet, and to every part of it; that\r\nhis adversaries themselves allowed, that a circular motion was natural\r\nto the heavens, whose diurnal revolution was infinitely more rapid\r\nthan even that motion which he had bestowed upon the Earth; that\r\nthough a like motion was natural to the Earth, it would still appear\r\nto be at rest to its inhabitants, and all the parts of it to tend in a\r\nstraight line to the centre, in the same manner as at present. But\r\nthis answer, how satisfactory soever it may appear to be now, neither\r\ndid nor could appear to be satisfactory then. By admitting the\r\ndistinction betwixt natural and violent motions, it was founded upon\r\nthe same ignorance of mechanical principles with the objection. The\r\nsystems of Aristotle and Hipparchus supposed, indeed, the diurnal\r\nmotion of the heavenly bodies to be infinitely more rapid than even\r\nthat dreadful movement which Copernicus bestowed upon the Earth. But\r\nthey supposed, at the same time, that those bodies were objects of a\r\nquite different species, from any we are acquainted with, near the\r\nsurface of the Earth, and to which, therefore, it was less difficult\r\nto conceive that any sort of motion might be natural. Those objects,\r\nbesides, had never presented themselves to the senses, as moving\r\notherwise, or with less rapidity, than these systems represented them.\r\nThe imagination, therefore, could feel no difficulty in following a\r\nrepresentation which the senses had rendered quite familiar to it. But\r\nwhen the Planets came to be regarded as so many Earths, the case was\r\nquite altered. The imagination had been accustomed to conceive such\r\nobjects as tending rather to rest than motion; and this idea of their\r\nnatural \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page363\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e363\u003c/span\u003e inertness, encumbered, if one may say so, and clogged\r\nits flight whenever it endeavoured to pursue them in their periodical\r\ncourses, and to conceive them as continually rushing through the\r\ncelestial spaces, with such violent and unremitting rapidity.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eNor were the first followers of Copernicus more fortunate in their\r\nanswers to some other objections, which were founded indeed in the\r\nsame ignorance of the laws of motion, but which, at the same time,\r\nwere necessarily connected with that way of conceiving things, which\r\nthen prevailed universally in the learned world.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIf the earth, it was said, revolved so rapidly from west to east, a\r\nperpetual wind would set in from east to west, more violent than what\r\nblows in the greatest hurricanes; a stone, thrown westwards would fly\r\nto a much greater distance than one thrown with the same force\r\neastwards; as what moved in a direction, contrary to the motion of the\r\nEarth, would necessarily pass over a greater portion of its surface,\r\nthan what, with the same velocity, moved along with it. A ball, it was\r\nsaid, dropped from the mast of a ship under sail, does not fall\r\nprecisely at the foot of the mast, but behind it; and in the same\r\nmanner, a stone dropped from a high tower would not, upon the\r\nsupposition of the Earth’s motion, fall precisely at the bottom of the\r\ntower, but west of it, the Earth being, in the mean time, carried away\r\neastward from below it. It is amusing to observe, by what, subtile and\r\nmetaphysical evasions the followers of Copernicus endeavoured to elude\r\nthis objection, which before the doctrine of the Composition of Motion\r\nhad been explained by Galileo, was altogether unanswerable. They\r\nallowed, that a ball dropped from the mast of a ship under sail would\r\nnot fall at the foot of the mast, but behind it; because the ball,\r\nthey said, was no part of the ship, and because the motion of the ship\r\nwas natural neither to itself nor to the ball. But the stone was a\r\npart of the earth, and the diurnal and annual revolutions of the Earth\r\nwere natural to the whole, and to every part of it, and therefore to\r\nthe stone. The stone, therefore, having naturally the same motion with\r\nthe Earth, fell precisely at the bottom of the tower. But this answer\r\ncould not satisfy the imagination, which still found it difficult to\r\nconceive how these motions could be natural to the earth; or how a\r\nbody, which had always presented itself to the senses as inert,\r\nponderous, and averse to motion, should naturally be continually\r\nwheeling about both its own axis and the Sun, with such violent\r\nrapidity. It was, besides, argued by Tycho Brahe, upon the principles\r\nof the same philosophy which had afforded both the objection and the\r\nanswer, that even upon the supposition, that any such motion was\r\nnatural to the whole body of the Earth, yet the stone, which was\r\nseparated from it, could no longer be actuated by that motion. The\r\nlimb, which is cut off from an animal, loses those animal motions\r\nwhich were natural to the whole. The branch, which is cut off from the\r\ntrunk, loses that vegetative \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page364\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e364\u003c/span\u003e motion which is natural to the\r\nwhole tree. Even the metals, minerals, and stones, which were dug out\r\nfrom the bosom of the Earth, lose those motions which occasioned their\r\nproduction and increase, and which were natural to them in their\r\noriginal state. Though the diurnal and annual motion of the Earth,\r\ntherefore, had been natural to them while they were contained in its\r\nbosom, it could no longer be so when they were separated from it.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eTycho Brahe, the great restorer of the science of the heavens, who\r\nhad spent his life, and wasted his fortune upon the advancement of\r\nAstronomy, whose observations were both more numerous and more\r\naccurate than those of all the astronomers who had gone before him,\r\nwas himself so much affected by the force of this objection, that,\r\nthough he had never mentioned the system of Copernicus without some\r\nnote of high admiration he had conceived for its author, he could\r\nnever himself be induced to embrace it; yet all his astronomical\r\nobservations tended to confirm it. They demonstrated, that Venus and\r\nMercury were sometimes above, and sometimes below the Sun; and that,\r\nconsequently, the Sun, and not the Earth, was the centre of their\r\nperiodical revolutions. They showed, that Mars, when in his meridian\r\nat midnight, was nearer to the Earth than the Earth is to the Sun;\r\nthough, when in conjunction with the Sun, he was much more remote from\r\nthe Earth than that luminary; a discovery which was absolutely\r\ninconsistent with the system of Ptolemy, which proved, that the Sun,\r\nand not the Earth, was the centre of the periodical revolutions of\r\nMars, as well as of Venus and Mercury; and which demonstrated that the\r\nEarth was placed betwixt the orbits of Mars and Venus. They made the\r\nsame thing probable with regard to Jupiter and Saturn; that they, too,\r\nrevolved round the Sun; and that, therefore, the Sun, if not the\r\ncentre of the universe, was at least, that of the planetary system.\r\nThey proved that Comets were superior to the Moon, and moved through\r\nthe heavens in all possible directions; an observation incompatible\r\nwith the Solid Spheres of Aristotle and Purbach, and which, therefore,\r\noverturned the physical part, at least, of the established systems of\r\nAstronomy.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eAll these observations, joined to his aversion to the system, and\r\nperhaps, notwithstanding the generosity of his character, some little\r\njealousy for the fame of Copernicus, suggested to Tycho the idea of a\r\nnew hypothesis, in which the Earth continued to be, as in the old\r\naccount, the immovable centre of the universe, round which the\r\nfirmament revolved every day from east to west, and, by some secret\r\nvirtue, carried the Sun, the Moon, and the Five Planets along with it,\r\nnotwithstanding their immense distance, and notwithstanding that there\r\nwas nothing betwixt it and them but the most fluid ether. But,\r\nalthough all these seven bodies thus obeyed the diurnal revolution of\r\nthe Firmament, they had each of them, as in the old system, too, a\r\n\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page365\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e365\u003c/span\u003e contrary periodical eastward revolution of their own, which made\r\nthem appear to be every day, more or less, left behind by the\r\nFirmament. The Sun was the centre of the periodical revolutions of the\r\nFive Planets; the Earth, that of the Sun and Moon. The Five Planets\r\nfollowed the Sun in his periodical revolution round the Earth, as they\r\ndid the Firmament in its diurnal rotation. The three superior Planets\r\ncomprehended the Earth within the orbit in which they revolved round\r\nthe Sun, and had each of them an Epicycle to connect together, in the\r\nsame manner as in the system of Ptolemy, their direct, retrograde, and\r\nstationary appearances. As, notwithstanding their immense distance,\r\nthey followed the Sun in his periodical revolution round the Earth,\r\nkeeping always at an equal distance from him, they were necessarily\r\nbrought much nearer to the Earth when in opposition to the Sun, than\r\nthan when in conjunction with him. Mars, the nearest of them, when in\r\nhis meridian at midnight, came within the orbit which the Sun\r\ndescribed round the Earth, and consequently was then nearer to the\r\nEarth than the Earth was to the Sun. The appearances of the two\r\ninferior Planets were explained, in the same manner, as in the system\r\nof Copernicus, and consequently required no Epicycle to connect them.\r\nThe circles in which the Five Planets performed their periodical\r\nrevolutions round the Sun, as well as those in which the Sun and Moon\r\nperformed theirs round the Earth, were, as both in the old and new\r\nhypothesis, Eccentric Circles, to connect together their differently\r\naccelerated and retarded motions.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eSuch was the system of Tycho Brahe, compounded, as is evident, out\r\nof these of Ptolemy and Copernicus; happier than that of Ptolemy, in\r\nthe account which it gives of the motions of the two inferior Planets;\r\nmore complex, by supposing the different revolutions of all the Five\r\nto be performed round two different centres; the diurnal round the\r\nEarth, the periodical round the Sun, but, in every respect, more\r\ncomplex and more incoherent than that of Copernicus. Such, however,\r\nwas the difficulty that mankind felt in conceiving the motion of the\r\nEarth, that it long balanced the reputation of that otherwise more\r\nbeautiful system. It may be said, that those who considered the\r\nheavens only, favoured the system of Copernicus, which connected so\r\nhappily all the appearances which presented themselves there; but that\r\nthose who looked upon the Earth, adopted the account of Tycho Brahe,\r\nwhich, leaving it at rest in the centre of the universe, did less\r\nviolence to the usual habits of the imagination. The learned were,\r\nindeed, sensible of the intricacy, and of the many incoherences of\r\nthat system; that it gave no account why the Sun, Moon, and Five\r\nPlanets, should follow the revolution of the Firmament; or why the\r\nFive Planets, notwithstanding the immense distance of the three\r\nsuperior ones, should obey the periodical motion of the Sun; or why\r\nthe Earth, though placed between the orbits of Mars and Venus, should\r\nremain immovable in the centre \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page366\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e366\u003c/span\u003e of the Firmament, and constantly\r\nresist the influence of whatever it was, which carried bodies that\r\nwere so much larger than itself, and that were placed on all sides of\r\nit, periodically round the Sun. Tycho Brahe died before he had fully\r\nexplained his system. His great and merited renown disposed many of\r\nthe learned to believe, that, had his life been longer, he would have\r\nconnected together many of these incoherences, and knew methods of\r\nadapting his system to some other appearances, with which none of his\r\nfollowers could connect it.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe objection to the system of Copernicus, which was drawn from the\r\nnature of motion, and that was most insisted on by Tycho Brahe, was at\r\nlast fully answered by Galileo; not, however, till about thirty years\r\nafter the death of Tycho, and about a hundred after that of\r\nCopernicus. It was then that Galileo, by explaining the nature of the\r\ncomposition of motion, by showing, both from reason and experience,\r\nthat a ball dropped from the mast of a ship under sail would fall\r\nprecisely at the foot of the mast, and by rendering this doctrine,\r\nfrom a great number of other instances, quite familiar to the\r\nimagination, took off, perhaps, the principal objection which had been\r\nmade to this hypothesis of the astronomers.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eSeveral other astronomical difficulties, which encumbered this\r\naccount of things, were removed by the same philosopher. Copernicus,\r\nafter altering the centre of the world, and making the Earth, and all\r\nthe Planets revolve round the Sun, was obliged to leave the Moon to\r\nrevolve round the Earth as before. But no example of any such\r\nsecondary Planet having then been discovered in the heavens, there\r\nseemed still to be this irregularity remaining in the system. Galileo,\r\nwho first applied telescopes to Astronomy, discovered, by their\r\nassistance, the Satellites of Jupiter, which, revolving round that\r\nPlanet, at the same time that they were carried along with it in its\r\nrevolution, round either the Earth, or the Sun, made it seem less\r\ncontrary to the analogy of nature, that the Moon should both revolve\r\nround the Earth, and accompany her in her revolution round the\r\nSun.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIt had been objected to Copernicus, that, if Venus and Mercury\r\nrevolved round the Sun in an orbit comprehended within the orbit of\r\nthe Earth, they would show all the same phases with the Moon; present,\r\nsometimes their darkened, and sometimes their enlightened sides to the\r\nEarth, and sometimes part of the one, and part of the other. He\r\nanswered, that they undoubtedly did all this; but that their smallness\r\nand distance hindered us from perceiving it. This very bold assertion\r\nof Copernicus was confirmed by Galileo. His telescopes rendered the\r\nphases of Venus quite sensible, and thus demonstrated, more evidently\r\nthan had been done, even by the observations of Tycho Brahe, the\r\nrevolutions of these two Planets round the Sun, as well as so far\r\ndestroyed the system of Ptolemy.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe mountains and seas, which, by the help of the same instrument,\r\n\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page367\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e367\u003c/span\u003e he discovered, or imagined he had discovered in the Moon,\r\nrendering that Planet, in every respect, similar to the Earth, made it\r\nseem less contrary to the analogy of nature, that, as the Moon\r\nrevolved round the Earth, the Earth should revolve round the Sun.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe spots which, in the same manner, he discovered in the Sun,\r\ndemonstrating, by their motion, the revolution of the Sun round his\r\naxis, made it seem less improbable that the Earth, a body so much\r\nsmaller than the Sun, should likewise revolve round her axis in the\r\nsame manner.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eSucceeding telescopical observations, discovered, in each of the\r\nFive Planets, spots not unlike those which Galileo had observed in the\r\nMoon, and thereby seemed to demonstrate what Copernicus had only\r\nconjectured, that the Planets were naturally opaque, enlightened only\r\nby the rays of the Sun, habitable, diversified by seas and mountains,\r\nand, in every respect, bodies of the same kind with the earth; and\r\nthus added one other probability to this system. By discovering, too,\r\nthat each of the Planets revolved round its own axis, at the same\r\ntime that it was carried round either the Earth or the Sun, they made\r\nit seem quite agreeable to the analogy of nature, that the Earth,\r\nwhich, in every other respect, resembled the Planets, should, like\r\nthem too, revolve round its own axis, and at the same time perform its\r\nperiodical motion round the Sun.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWhile, in Italy, the unfortunate Galileo was adding so many\r\nprobabilities to the system of Copernicus, there was another\r\nphilosopher employing himself in Germany, to ascertain, correct, and\r\nimprove it; Kepler, with great genius, but without the taste, or the\r\norder and method of Galileo, possessed, like all his other countrymen,\r\nthe most laborious industry, joined to that passion for discovering\r\nproportions and resemblances betwixt the different parts of nature,\r\nwhich, though common to all philosophers, seems, in him, to have been\r\nexcessive. He had been instructed, by Mæstlinus, in the system of\r\nCopernicus; and his first curiosity was, as he tells us, to find out,\r\nwhy the Planets, the Earth being counted for one, were Six in number;\r\nwhy they were placed at such irregular distances from the Sun; and\r\nwhether there was any uniform proportion betwixt their several\r\ndistances, and the times employed in their periodical revolutions.\r\nTill some reason, or proportion of this kind, could be discovered, the\r\nsystem did not appear to him to be completely coherent. He\r\nendeavoured, first, to find it in the proportions of numbers, and\r\nplain figures; afterwards, in those of the regular solids; and, last\r\nof all, in those of the musical divisions of the Octave. Whatever was\r\nthe science which Kepler was studying, he seems constantly to have\r\npleased himself with finding some analogy betwixt it and the system of\r\nthe universe; and thus, arithmetic and music, plane and solid\r\ngeometry, came all of them by turns to illustrate the doctrine of the\r\nSphere, in the explaining of which he was, by his \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page368\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e368\u003c/span\u003e profession,\r\nprincipally employed. Tycho Brahe, to whom he had presented one of his\r\nbooks, though he could not but disapprove of his system, was pleased,\r\nhowever, with his genius, and with his indefatigable diligence in\r\nmaking the most laborious calculations. That generous and magnificent\r\nDane invited the obscure and indigent Kepler to come and live with\r\nhim, and communicated to him, as soon as he arrived, his observations\r\nupon Mars, in the arranging and methodizing of which his disciples\r\nwere at that time employed. Kepler, upon comparing them with one\r\nanother, found, that the orbit of Mars was not a perfect circle; that\r\none of its diameters was somewhat longer than the other; and that it\r\napproached to an oval, or an ellipse, which had the Sun placed in one\r\nof its foci. He found, too, that the motion of the Planet was not\r\nequable; that it was swiftest when nearest the Sun, and slowest when\r\nfurthest from him; and that its velocity gradually increased, or\r\ndiminished, according as it approached or receded from him. The\r\nobservations of the same astronomer discovered to him, though not so\r\nevidently, that the same things were true of all the other Planets;\r\nthat their orbits were elliptical, and that their motions were\r\nswiftest when nearest the Sun, and slowest when furthest from him.\r\nThey showed the same things, too, of the Sun, if supposed to revolve\r\nround the Earth; and consequently of the Earth, if it also was\r\nsupposed to revolve round the Sun.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThat the motions of all the heavenly bodies were perfectly\r\ncircular, had been the fundamental idea upon which every astronomical\r\nhypothesis, except the irregular one of the Stoics, had been built. A\r\ncircle, as the degree of its curvature is every where the same, is of\r\nall curve lines the simplest and the most easily conceived. Since it\r\nwas evident, therefore, that the heavenly bodies did not move in\r\nstraight lines, the indolent imagination found, that it could most\r\neasily attend to their motions if they were supposed to revolve in\r\nperfect circles. It had, upon this account, determined that a circular\r\nmotion was the most perfect of all motions, and that none but the most\r\nperfect motion could be worthy of such beautiful and divine objects;\r\nand it had upon this account, so often, in vain, endeavoured to adjust\r\nto the appearances, so many different systems, which all supposed them\r\nto revolve in this perfect manner.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe equality of their motions was another fundamental idea, which,\r\nin the same manner, and for the same reason, was supposed by all the\r\nfounders of astronomical systems. For an equal motion can be more\r\neasily attended to, than one that is continually either accelerated or\r\nretarded. All inconsistency, therefore, was declared to be unworthy\r\nthose bodies which revolved in the celestial regions, and to be fit\r\nonly for inferior and sublunary things. The calculations of Kepler\r\noverturned, with regard to the Planets, both these natural prejudices\r\nof the imagination; destroyed their circular orbits; and introduced\r\ninto their \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page369\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e369\u003c/span\u003e real motions, such an equality as no equalizing\r\ncircle would remedy. It was, however, to render their motion perfectly\r\nequable, without even the assistance of a equalizing circle, that\r\nCopernicus, as he himself assures us, had originally invented his\r\nsystem. Since the calculations of Kepler, therefore, overturned what\r\nCopernicus had principally in view in establishing his system, we\r\ncannot wonder that they should at first seem rather to embarrass than\r\nimprove it.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIt is true, by these elliptical orbits and unequal motions, Kepler\r\ndisengaged the system from the embarrassment of those small Epicycles,\r\nwhich Copernicus, in order to connect the seemingly accelerated and\r\nretarded movements of the Planets, with their supposed real equality,\r\nhad been obliged to leave in it. For it is remarkable, that though\r\nCopernicus had delivered the orbits of the Planets from the enormous\r\nEpicycles of Hipparchus, that though in this consisted the great\r\nsuperiority of his system above that of the ancient astronomers, he\r\nwas yet obliged, himself, to abandon, in some measure, this advantage,\r\nand to make use of some small Epicycles, to join together those\r\nseeming irregularities. His Epicycles indeed, like the irregularities\r\nfor whose sake they were introduced, were but small ones, and the\r\nimaginations of his first followers seem, accordingly, either to have\r\nslurred them over altogether, or scarcely to have observed them.\r\nNeither Galileo, nor Gassendi, the two most eloquent of his defenders,\r\ntake any notice of them. Nor does it seem to have been generally\r\nattended to, that there was any such thing as Epicycles in the system\r\nof Copernicus, till Kepler, in order to vindicate his own elliptical\r\norbits, insisted, that even, according to Copernicus, the body of the\r\nPlanet was to be found but at two different places in the\r\ncircumference of that circle which the centre of its Epicycle\r\ndescribed.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIt is true, too, that an ellipse is, of all curve lines after a\r\ncircle, the simplest and most easily conceived; and it is true,\r\nbesides all this, that, while Kepler took from the motion of the\r\nPlanets the easiest of all proportions, that of equality, he did not\r\nleave them absolutely without one, but ascertained the rule by which\r\ntheir velocities continually varied; for a genius so fond of\r\nanalogies, when he had taken away one, would be sure to substitute\r\nanother in its room. Notwithstanding all this, notwithstanding that\r\nhis system was better supported by observations than any system had\r\never been before, yet, such was the attachment to the equal motions\r\nand circular orbits of the Planets, that it seems, for some time, to\r\nhave been in general but little attended to by the learned, to have\r\nbeen altogether neglected by philosophers, and not much regarded even\r\nby astronomers.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eGassendi, who began to figure in the world about the latter days of\r\nKepler, and who was himself no mean astronomer, seems indeed to have\r\nconceived a good deal of esteem for his diligence and accuracy in\r\naccommodating the observations of Tycho Brahe to the system of \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page370\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e370\u003c/span\u003e\r\nCopernicus. But Gassendi appears to have had no comprehension of the\r\nimportance of those alterations which Kepler had made in that system,\r\nas is evident from his scarcely ever mentioning them in the whole\r\ncourse of his voluminous writings upon Astronomy. Des Cartes, the\r\ncontemporary and rival of Gassendi, seems to have paid no attention to\r\nthem at all, but to have built his Theory of the Heavens, without any\r\nregard to them. Even those astronomers, whom a serious attention had\r\nconvinced of the justness of his corrections, were still so enamoured\r\nwith the circular orbits and equal motion, that they endeavoured to\r\ncompound his system with those ancient but natural prejudices. Thus,\r\nWard endeavoured to show that, though the Planets moved in elliptical\r\norbits, which had the Sun in one of their foci, and though their\r\nvelocities in the elliptical line were continually varying, yet, if a\r\nray was supposed to be extended from the centre of any one of them to\r\nthe other focus, and to be carried along by the periodical motion of\r\nthe Planet, it would make equal angles in equal times, and\r\nconsequently cut off equal portions of the circle of which that other\r\nfocus was the centre. To one, therefore, placed in that focus, the\r\nmotion of the Planet would appear to be perfectly circular and\r\nperfectly equable, in the same manner as in the Equalizing Circles of\r\nPtolemy and Hipparchus. Thus Bouillaud, who censured this hypothesis\r\nof Ward, invented another of the same kind, infinitely more whimsical\r\nand capricious. The Planets, according to that astronomer, always\r\nrevolve in circles; for that being the most perfect figure, it is\r\nimpossible they should revolve in any other. No one of them, however,\r\ncontinues to move in any one circle, but is perpetually passing from\r\none to another, through an infinite number of circles, in the course\r\nof each revolution; for an ellipse, said he, is an oblique section of\r\na cone, and in a cone, betwixt the two vortices of the ellipse there\r\nis an infinite number of circles, out of the infinitely small portions\r\nof which the elliptical line is compounded. The Planet, therefore\r\nwhich moves in this line, is, in every point of it, moving in an\r\ninfinitely small portion of a certain circle. The motion of each\r\nPlanet, too, according to him, was necessarily, for the same reason,\r\nperfectly equable. An equable motion being the most perfect of all\r\nmotions. It was not, however, in the elliptical line, that it was\r\nequable, but in any one of the circles that were parallel to the base\r\nof that cone, by whose section this elliptical line had been formed:\r\nfor, if a ray was extended from the Planet to any one of those\r\ncircles, and carried along by its periodical motion, it would cut off\r\nequal portions of that circle in equal times; another most fantastical\r\nequalising circle, supported by no other foundation besides the\r\nfrivolous connection between a cone and an ellipse, and recommended by\r\nnothing but the natural passion for circular orbits and equable\r\nmotions. It may be regarded as the last effort of this passion, and\r\nmay serve to show the force of that principle which could \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page371\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e371\u003c/span\u003e thus\r\noblige this accurate observer, and great improver of the Theory of the\r\nHeavens, to adopt so strange an hypothesis. Such was the difficulty\r\nand hesitation with which the followers of Copernicus adopted the\r\ncorrections of Kepler.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe rule, indeed, which Kepler ascertained for determining the\r\ngradual acceleration or retardation in the movement of the Planets,\r\nwas intricate, and difficult to be comprehended; it could therefore\r\nbut little facilitate the progress of the imagination in tracing those\r\nrevolutions which were supposed to be conducted by it. According to\r\nthat astronomer, if a straight line was drawn from the centre of each\r\nPlanet to the Sun, and carried along by the periodical motion of the\r\nPlanet, it would describe equal areas in equal times, though the\r\nPlanet did not pass over equal spaces; and the same rule he found,\r\ntook place nearly with regard to the Moon. The imagination, when\r\nacquainted with the law by which any motion is accelerated or\r\nretarded, can follow and attend to it more easily, than when at a\r\nloss, and, as it were, wandering in uncertainty with regard to the\r\nproportion which regulates its varieties; the discovery of this\r\nanalogy therefore, no doubt, rendered the system of Kepler more\r\nagreeable to the natural taste of mankind: it, was, however, an\r\nanalogy too difficult to be followed, or comprehended, to render it\r\ncompletely so.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eKepler, besides this, introduced another new analogy into the\r\nsystem, and first discovered, that there was one uniform relation\r\nobserved betwixt the distances of the Planets from the Sun, and the\r\ntimes employed in their periodical motions. He found, that their\r\nperiodical times were greater than in proportion to their distances,\r\nand less than in proportion to the squares of those distances; but,\r\nthat they were nearly as the mean proportionals betwixt their\r\ndistances and the squares of their distances; or, in other words, that\r\nthe squares of their periodical times were nearly as the cubes of\r\ntheir distances; an analogy, which, though, like all others, it no\r\ndoubt rendered the system somewhat more distinct and comprehensible,\r\nwas, however, as well as the former, of too intricate a nature to\r\nfacilitate very much the effort of the imagination in conceiving\r\nit.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe truth of both these analogies, intricate as they were, was at\r\nlast fully established by the observations of Cassini. That astronomer\r\nfirst discovered, that the secondary Planets of Jupiter and Saturn\r\nrevolved round their primary ones, according to the same laws which\r\nKepler had observed in the revolutions of the primary ones round the\r\nSun, and that of the Moon round the earth; that each of them described\r\nequal areas in equal times, and that the squares of their periodic\r\ntimes were as the cubes of their distances. When these two last\r\nabstruse analogies, which, when Kepler at first observed them, were\r\nbut little regarded, had been thus found to take place in the\r\nrevolutions of the Four Satellites of Jupiter, and in those of the\r\nFive of Saturn, they were \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page372\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e372\u003c/span\u003e now thought not only to confirm the\r\ndoctrine of Kepler, but to add a new probability to the Copernican\r\nhypothesis. The observations of Cassini seem to establish it as a law\r\nof the system, that, when one body revolved round another, it\r\ndescribed equal areas in equal times; and that, when several revolved\r\nround the same body, the squares of their periodic times were as the\r\ncubes of their distances. If the Earth and the Five Planets were\r\nsupposed to revolve round the Sun, these laws, it was said, would take\r\nplace universally. But if, according to the system of Ptolemy, the\r\nSun, Moon, and Five Planets were supposed to revolve round the Earth,\r\nthe periodical motions of the Sun and Moon, would, indeed, observe the\r\nfirst of these laws, would each of them describe equal areas in equal\r\ntimes; but they would not observe the second, the squares of their\r\nperiodic times would not be as the cubes of their distances: and the\r\nrevolutions of the Five Planets would observe neither the one law nor\r\nthe other. Or if, according to the system of Tycho Brahe, the Five\r\nPlanets were supposed to revolve round the Sun, while the Sun and Moon\r\nrevolved round the Earth, the revolutions of the Five Planets round\r\nthe Sun, would, indeed, observe both these laws; but those of the\r\nSun and Moon round the Earth would observe only the first of them. The\r\nanalogy of nature, therefore, could be preserved completely, according\r\nto no other system but that of Copernicus, which, upon that account,\r\nmust be the true one. This argument is regarded by Voltaire, and the\r\nCardinal of Polignac, as an irrefragable demonstration; even M‘Laurin,\r\nwho was more capable of judging, nay, Newton himself, seems to mention\r\nit as one of the principal evidences for the truth of that hypothesis.\r\nYet, an analogy of this kind, it would seem, far from a demonstration,\r\ncould afford, at most, but the shadow of a probability.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIt is true, that though Cassini supposed the Planets to revolve in\r\nan oblong curve, it was in a curve somewhat different from that of\r\nKepler. In the ellipse, the sum of the two lines which are drawn from\r\nany one point in the circumference to the two foci, is always equal to\r\nthat of those which are drawn from any other point in the\r\ncircumference to the same foci. In the curve of Cassini, it is not the\r\nsum of the lines, but the rectangles which are contained under the\r\nlines, that are always equal. As this, however, was a proportion more\r\ndifficult to be comprehended by astronomers than the other, the curve\r\nof Cassini has never had the vogue.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eNothing now embarrassed the system of Copernicus, but the\r\ndifficulty which the imagination felt in conceiving bodies so\r\nimmensely ponderous as the Earth and the other Planets revolving round\r\nthe Sun with such incredible rapidity. It was in vain that Copernicus\r\npretended, that, notwithstanding the prejudices of sense, this\r\ncircular motion might be as natural to the Planets, as it is to a\r\nstone to fall to the ground. The imagination had been accustomed to\r\nconceive such \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page373\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e373\u003c/span\u003e objects as tending rather to rest than motion.\r\nThis habitual idea of their natural inertness was incompatible with\r\nthat of their natural motion. It was in vain that Kepler, in order to\r\nassist the fancy in connecting together this natural inertness with\r\ntheir astonishing velocities, talked of some vital and immaterial\r\nvirtue, which was shed by the Sun into the surrounding spaces, which\r\nwas whirled about with his revolution round his own axis, and which,\r\ntaking hold of the Planets, forced them, in spite of their\r\nponderousness and strong propensity to rest, thus to whirl about the\r\ncentre of the system. The imagination had no hold of this immaterial\r\nvirtue, and could form no determinate idea of what it consisted in.\r\nThe imagination, indeed, felt a gap, or interval, betwixt the constant\r\nmotion and the supposed inertness of the Planets, and had in this, as\r\nin all other cases, some general idea or apprehension that there must\r\nbe a connecting chain of intermediate objects to link together these\r\ndiscordant qualities. Wherein this connecting chain consisted, it was,\r\nindeed, at a loss to conceive; nor did the doctrine of Kepler lend it\r\nany assistance in this respect. That doctrine, like almost all those\r\nof the philosophy in fashion during his time, bestowed a name upon\r\nthis invisible chain, called it an immaterial virtue, but afforded no\r\ndeterminate idea of what was its nature.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eDes Cartes was the first who attempted to ascertain, precisely,\r\nwherein this invisible chain consisted, and to afford the imagination\r\na train of intermediate events, which, succeeding each other in an\r\norder that was of all others the most familiar to it, should unite\r\nthose incoherent qualities, the rapid motion, and the natural\r\ninertness of the Planets. Des Cartes was the first who explained\r\nwherein consisted the real inertness of matter; that it was not in an\r\naversion to motion, or in a propensity to rest, but in a power of\r\ncontinuing indifferently either at rest of in motion, and of\r\nresisting, with a certain force, whatever endeavoured to change its\r\nstate from the one to the other. According to that ingenious and\r\nfanciful philosopher, the whole of infinite space was full of matter,\r\nfor with him matter and extension were the same, and consequently\r\nthere could be no void. This immensity of matter, he supposed to be\r\ndivided into an infinite number of very small cubes; all of which,\r\nbeing whirled about upon their own centres, necessarily gave occasion\r\nto the production of two different elements. The first consisted of\r\nthose angular parts, which, having been necessarily rubbed off, and\r\ngrinded yet smaller by their mutual friction, constituted the most\r\nsubtle and movable part of matter. The second consisted of those\r\nlittle globules that were formed by the rubbing off of the first. The\r\ninterstices betwixt these globules of the second element was filled up\r\nby the particles of the first. But in the infinite collisions, which\r\nmust occur in an infinite space filled with matter, and all in motion,\r\nit must necessarily happen that many of the globules of the second\r\nelement should be broken and grinded down into the first. The quantity\r\n\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page374\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e374\u003c/span\u003e of the first element having been thus increased beyond what was\r\nsufficient to fill up the interstices of the second, it must, in many\r\nplaces, have been heaped up together, without any mixture of the\r\nsecond along with it. Such, according to Des Cartes, was the original\r\ndivision of matter. Upon this infinitude of matter thus divided, a\r\ncertain quantity of motion was originally impressed by the Creator of\r\nall things, and the laws of motion were so adjusted as always to\r\npreserve the same quantity in it, without increase, and without\r\ndiminution. Whatever motion was lost by one part of matter, was\r\ncommunicated to some other; and whatever was acquired by one part of\r\nmatter, was derived from some other: and thus, through an eternal\r\nrevolution, from rest to motion, and from motion to rest, in every\r\npart of the universe, the quantity of motion in the whole was always\r\nthe same.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eBut, as there was no void, no one part of matter could be moved\r\nwithout thrusting some other out of its place, nor that without\r\nthrusting some other, and so on. To avoid, therefore, an infinite\r\nprogress, he supposed that the matter which any body pushed before it,\r\nrolled immediately backwards, to supply the place of that matter which\r\nflowed in behind it; and as we may observe in the swimming of a fish,\r\nthat the water which it pushes before it, immediately rolls backward,\r\nto supply the place of what flows in behind it, and thus forms a small\r\ncircle or vortex round the body of the fish. It was, in the same\r\nmanner, that the motion originally impressed by the Creator upon the\r\ninfinitude of matter, necessarily produced in it an infinity of\r\ngreater and smaller vortices, or circular streams: and the law of\r\nmotion being so adjusted as always to preserve the same quantity of\r\nmotion in the universe, those vortices either continued for ever, or\r\nby their dissolution gave birth to others of the same kind. There was,\r\nthus, at all times, an infinite number of greater and smaller\r\nvortices, or circular streams, revolving in the universe.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eBut, whatever moves in a circle, is constantly endeavouring to fly\r\noff from the centre of its revolution. For the natural motion of all\r\nbodies is in a straight line. All the particles of matter, therefore,\r\nin each of those greater vortices, were continually pressing from the\r\ncentre to the circumference, with more or less force, according to the\r\ndifferent degrees of their bulk and solidity. The larger and more\r\nsolid globules of the second element forced themselves upwards to the\r\ncircumference, while the smaller, more yielding, and more active\r\nparticles of the first, which could flow, even through the interstices\r\nof the second, were forced downwards to the centre. They were forced\r\ndownwards to the centre, notwithstanding their natural tendency was\r\nupwards to the circumference; for the same reason that a piece of\r\nwood, when plunged in water, is forced upwards to the surface,\r\nnotwithstanding its natural tendency is downwards to the bottom;\r\nbecause its tendency downwards is less strong than that of the\r\nparticles of water, which, therefore, \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page375\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e375\u003c/span\u003e if one may say so, press\r\nin before it, and thus force it upwards. But there being a greater\r\nquantity of the first element than what was necessary to fill up the\r\ninterstices of the second, it was necessarily accumulated in the\r\ncentre of each of these great circular streams, and formed there the\r\nfiery and active substance of the Sun. For, according to that\r\nphilosopher, the Solar Systems were infinite in number, each Fixed\r\nStar being the centre of one: and he is among the first of the\r\nmoderns, who thus took away the boundaries of the Universe; even\r\nCopernicus and Kepler, themselves, having confined it within, what\r\nthey supposed, to be the vault of the Firmament.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe centre of each vortex being thus occupied by the most active\r\nand movable parts of matter, there was necessarily among them, a more\r\nviolent agitation than in any other part of the vortex, and this\r\nviolent agitation of the centre cherished and supported the movement\r\nof the whole. But, among the particles of the first element, which\r\nfill up the interstices of the second, there are many, which, from the\r\npressure of the globules on all sides of them, necessarily receive an\r\nangular form, and thus constitute a third element of particles less\r\nfit for motion than those of the other two. As the particles, however,\r\nof this third element were formed in the interstices of the second,\r\nthey are necessarily smaller than those of the second, and are,\r\ntherefore, along with those of the first, urged down towards the\r\ncentre, where, when a number of them happen to take hold of one\r\nanother, they form such spots upon the surface of the accumulated\r\nparticles of the first element, as are often discovered by telescopes\r\nupon the face of that Sun which enlightens and animates our particular\r\nsystem. Those spots are often broken and dispelled, by the violent\r\nagitation of the particles of the first element, as has hitherto\r\nhappily been the case with those which have successively been formed\r\nupon the face of our Sun. Sometimes, however, they encrust the whole\r\nsurface of that fire which is accumulated in the centre; and the\r\ncommunication betwixt the most active and the most inert parts of the\r\nvortex being thus interrupted, the rapidity of its motion immediately\r\nbegins to languish, and can no longer defend it from being swallowed\r\nup and carried away by the superior violence of some other like\r\ncircular stream; and in this manner, what was once a Sun, becomes a\r\nPlanet. Thus, the time was, according to this system, when the Moon\r\nwas a body of the same kind with the Sun, the fiery centre of a\r\ncircular stream of ether, which flowed continually round her; but her\r\nface having been crusted over by a congeries of angular particles, the\r\nmotion of this circular stream began to languish, and could no longer\r\ndefend itself from being absorbed by the more violent vortex of the\r\nEarth, which was then, too, a Sun, and which chanced to be placed in\r\nits neighbourhood. The Moon, therefore, became a Planet, and revolved\r\nround the Earth. In process of time, the same fortune, which had thus\r\nbefallen the Moon, befell also \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page376\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e376\u003c/span\u003e the Earth; its face was encrusted\r\nby a gross and inactive substance; the motion of its vortex began to\r\nlanguish, and it was absorbed by the greater vortex of the Sun: but\r\nthough the vortex of the Earth had thus become languid, it still had\r\nforce enough to occasion both the diurnal revolution of the Earth, and\r\nthe monthly motion of the Moon. For a small circular stream may easily\r\nbe conceived as flowing round the body of the Earth, at the same time\r\nthat it is carried along by that great ocean of ether which is\r\ncontinually revolving round the Sun; in the same manner, as in a great\r\nwhirlpool of water, one may often see several small whirlpools, which\r\nrevolve round centres of their own, and at the same time are carried\r\nround the centre of the great one. Such was the cause of the original\r\nformation and consequent motions of the Planetary System. When a solid\r\nbody is turned round its centre, those parts of it, which are nearest,\r\nand those which are remotest from the centre, complete their\r\nrevolutions in one and the same time. But it is otherwise with the\r\nrevolutions of a fluid; the parts of it which are nearest the centre\r\ncomplete their revolutions in a shorter time, than those which are\r\nremoter. The Planets, therefore, all floating, in that immense tide of\r\nether which is continually setting in from west to east round the body\r\nof the Sun, complete their revolutions in a longer or a shorter time,\r\naccording to their nearness or distance from him. There was, however,\r\naccording to Des Cartes, no very exact proportion observed betwixt the\r\ntimes of their revolutions and their distances from the centre. For\r\nthat nice analogy, which Kepler had discovered betwixt them, having\r\nnot yet been confirmed by the observations of Cassini, was, as I\r\nbefore took notice, entirely disregarded by Des Cartes. According to\r\nhim, too, their orbits might not be perfectly circular, but be longer\r\nthe one way than the other, and thus approach to an Ellipse. Nor yet\r\nwas it necessary to suppose, that they described this figure with\r\ngeometrical accuracy, or even that they described always precisely the\r\nsame figure. It rarely happens, that nature can be mathematically\r\nexact with regard to the figure of the objects she produces, upon\r\naccount of the infinite combinations of impulses, which must conspire\r\nto the production of each of her effects. No two Planets, no two\r\nanimals of the same kind, have exactly the same figure, nor is that of\r\nany one of them perfectly regular. It was in vain, therefore, that\r\nastronomers laboured to find that perfect constancy and regularity in\r\nthe motions of the heavenly bodies, which is to be found in no other\r\nparts of nature. These motions, like all others, must either languish\r\nor be accelerated, according as the cause which produces them, the\r\nrevolution of the vortex of the Sun, either languishes, or is\r\naccelerated; and there are innumerable events which may occasion\r\neither the one or the other of those changes.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIt was thus, that Des Cartes endeavoured to render familiar to the\r\nimagination, the greatest difficulty in the Copernican system, the\r\nrapid \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page377\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e377\u003c/span\u003e motion of the enormous bodies of the Planets. When the\r\nfancy had thus been taught to conceive them as floating in an immense\r\nocean of ether, it was quite agreeable to its usual habits to\r\nconceive, that they should follow the stream of this ocean, how rapid\r\nsoever. This was an order of succession to which it had been long\r\naccustomed, and with which it was, therefore, quite familiar. This\r\naccount, too, of the motions of the Heavens, was connected with a vast,\r\nan immense system, which joined together a greater number of the most\r\ndiscordant phenomena of nature, than had been united by any other\r\nhypothesis; a system in which the principles of connection, though\r\nperhaps equally imaginary, were, however, more distinct and\r\ndeterminate, than any that had been known before; and which attempted\r\nto trace to the imagination, not only the order of succession by which\r\nthe heavenly bodies were moved, but that by which they, and almost all\r\nother natural objects, had originally been produced.—The Cartesian\r\nphilosophy begins now to be almost universally rejected, whilst the\r\nCopernican system continues to be universally received. Yet it is not\r\neasy to imagine, how much probability and coherence this admired\r\nsystem was long supposed to derive from that exploded hypothesis. Till\r\nDes Cartes had published his principles, the disjointed and incoherent\r\nsystem of Tycho Brahe, though it was embraced heartily and completely\r\nby scarce any body, was yet constantly talked of by all the learned,\r\nas, in point of probability, upon a level with Copernicus. They took\r\nnotice, indeed, of its inferiority with regard to coherence and\r\nconnection, expressing hopes, however, that these defects might be\r\nremedied by some future improvements. But when the world beheld that\r\ncomplete, and almost perfect coherence, which the philosophy of Des\r\nCartes bestowed upon the system of Copernicus, the imaginations of\r\nmankind could no longer refuse themselves the pleasure of going along\r\nwith so harmonious an account of things. The system of Tycho Brahe was\r\nevery day less and less talked of, till at last it was forgotten\r\naltogether.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe system of Des Cartes, however, though it connected together the\r\nreal motions of the heavenly bodies according to the system of\r\nCopernicus, more happily than had been done before, did so only when\r\nthey were considered in the gross; but did not apply to them, when\r\nthey were regarded in the detail. Des Cartes, as was said before, had\r\nnever himself observed the Heavens with any particular application.\r\nThough he was not ignorant, therefore, of any of the observations\r\nwhich had been made before his time, he seems to have paid them no\r\ngreat degree of attention; which, probably, proceeded from his own\r\ninexperience in the study of Astronomy. So far, therefore, from\r\naccommodating his system to all the minute irregularities, which\r\nKepler had ascertained in the movements of the Planets; or from\r\nshowing, particularly, how these irregularities, and no other, should\r\narise from it, he contented himself with observing, that perfect\r\nuniformity could not \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page378\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e378\u003c/span\u003e be expected in their motions, from the\r\nnature of the causes which produced them; that certain irregularities\r\nmight take place in them, for a great number of successive\r\nrevolutions, and afterwards gave way to others of a different kind: a\r\nremark which, happily, relieved him from the necessity of applying his\r\nsystem to the observations of Kepler, and the other Astronomers.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eBut when the observations of Cassini had established the authority\r\nof those laws, which Kepler had first discovered in the system, the\r\nphilosophy of Des Cartes, which could afford no reason why such\r\nparticular laws should be observed, might continue to amuse the\r\nlearned in other sciences, but could no longer satisfy those that were\r\nskilled in Astronomy. Sir Isaac Newton first attempted to give a\r\nphysical account of the motions of the Planets, which should\r\naccommodate itself to all the constant irregularities which\r\nastronomers had ever observed in their motions. The physical\r\nconnection, by which Des Cartes had endeavoured to bind together the\r\nmovements of the Planets, was the laws of impulse; of all the orders\r\nof succession, those which are most familiar to the imagination; as\r\nthey all flow from the inertness of matter. After this quality, there\r\nis no other with which we are so well acquainted as that of gravity.\r\nWe never act upon matter, but we have occasion to observe it. The\r\nsuperior genius and sagacity of Sir Isaac Newton, therefore, made the\r\nmost happy, and, we may now say, the greatest and most admirable\r\nimprovement that was ever made in philosophy, when he discovered, that\r\nhe could join together the movements of the Planets by so familiar a\r\nprinciple of connection, which completely removed all the difficulties\r\nthe imagination had hitherto felt in attending to them. He\r\ndemonstrated, that, if the Planets were supposed to gravitate towards\r\nthe Sun, and to one another, and at the same time to have had a\r\nprojecting force originally impressed upon them, the primary ones\r\nmight all describe ellipses in one of the foci of which that great\r\nluminary was placed; and the secondary ones might describe figures of\r\nthe same kind round their respective primaries, without being\r\ndisturbed by the continual motion of the centres of their revolutions.\r\nThat if the force, which retained each of them in their orbits, was\r\nlike that of gravity, and directed towards the Sun, they would, each\r\nof them, describe equal areas in equal times. That if this attractive\r\npower of the Sun, like all other qualities which are diffused in rays\r\nfrom a centre, diminished in the same proportion as the squares of the\r\ndistances increased, their motions would be swiftest when nearest the\r\nSun, and slowest when farthest off from him, in the same proportion in\r\nwhich, by observation, they are discovered to be; and that upon the\r\nsame supposition, of this gradual diminution of their respective\r\ngravities, their periodic times would bear the same proportion to\r\ntheir distances, which Kepler and Cassini had established betwixt\r\nthem. Having thus shown, that gravity might be the \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page379\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e379\u003c/span\u003e connecting\r\nprinciple which joined together the movements of the Planets, he\r\nendeavoured next to prove that it really was so. Experience shows us,\r\nwhat is the power of gravity near the surface of the Earth. That it is\r\nsuch as to make a body fall, in the first second of its descent,\r\nthrough about fifteen Parisian feet. The Moon is about sixty\r\nsemidiameters of the Earth distant from its surface. If gravity,\r\ntherefore, was supposed to diminish, as the squares of the distance\r\nincrease, a body, at the Moon, would fall towards the Earth in a\r\nminute; that is, in sixty seconds, through the same space, which it\r\nfalls near its surface in one second. But the arch which the Moon\r\ndescribes in a minute, falls, by observation, about fifteen Parisian\r\nfeet below the tangent drawn at the beginning of it. So far,\r\ntherefore, the Moon may be conceived as constantly falling towards the\r\nEarth.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe system of Sir Isaac Newton corresponded to many other\r\nirregularities which Astronomers had observed in the Heavens. It\r\nassigned a reason, why the centres of the revolutions of the Planets\r\nwere not precisely in the centre of the Sun, but in the common centre\r\nof gravity of the Sun and the Planets. From the mutual attraction of\r\nthe Planets, it gave a reason for some other irregularities in their\r\nmotions; irregularities, which are quite sensible in those of Jupiter\r\nand Saturn, when those Planets are nearly in conjunction with one\r\nanother. But of all the irregularities in the Heavens, those of the\r\nMoon had hitherto given the greatest perplexity to Astronomers; and\r\nthe system of Sir Isaac Newton corresponded, if possible, yet more\r\naccurately with them than with any of the other Planets. The Moon,\r\nwhen either in conjunction, or in opposition to the Sun, appears\r\nfurthest from the Earth, and nearest to it when in her quarters.\r\nAccording to the system of that philosopher, when she is in\r\nconjunction with the Sun, she is nearer the Sun than the Earth is;\r\nconsequently, more attracted to him, and, therefore, more separated\r\nfrom the Earth. On the contrary, when in opposition to the Sun, she is\r\nfurther from the Sun than the Earth. The Earth, therefore, is more\r\nattracted to the Sun: and consequently, in this case, too, further\r\nseparated from the Moon. But, on the other hand, when the Moon is in\r\nher quarters, the Earth and the Moon, being both at equal distance\r\nfrom the Sun, are equally attracted to him. They would not, upon this\r\naccount alone, therefore, be brought nearer to one another. As it is\r\nnot in parallel lines however that they are attracted towards the Sun,\r\nbut in lines which meet in his centre, they are, thereby, still\r\nfurther approached to one another. Sir Isaac Newton computed the\r\ndifference of the forces with which the Moon and the Earth ought, in\r\nall those different situations, according to his theory, to be\r\nimpelled towards one another; and found, that the different degrees of\r\ntheir approaches, as they had been observed by Astronomers,\r\ncorresponded exactly to his computations. As the attraction of the\r\nSun, in the conjunctions and oppositions, diminishes the gravity of\r\n\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page380\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e380\u003c/span\u003e the Moon towards the Earth, and, consequently, makes her\r\nnecessarily extend her orbit, and, therefore, require a longer\r\nperiodical time to finish it. But, when the Moon and the Earth are in\r\nthat part of the orbit which is nearest the Sun, this attraction of\r\nthe Sun will be the greatest; consequently, the gravity of the Moon\r\ntowards the Earth will there be most diminished; her orbit be most\r\nextended; and her periodic time be, therefore, the longest. This is,\r\nalso, agreeable to experience, and in the very same proportion, in\r\nwhich, by computation, from these principles, it might be\r\nexpected.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe orbit of the Moon is not precisely in the same Plane with that\r\nof the Earth; but makes a very small angle with it. The points of\r\nintersection with those two Planes, are called, the Nodes of the Moon.\r\nThese Nodes of the Moon are in continual motion, and in eighteen or\r\nnineteen years, revolve backwards, from east to west, through all the\r\ndifferent points of the Ecliptic. For the Moon, after having finished\r\nher periodical revolution, generally intersects the orbit of the Earth\r\nsomewhat behind the point where she had intersected it before. But,\r\nthough the motion of the Nodes is thus generally retrograde, it is not\r\nalways so, but is sometimes direct, and sometimes they appear even\r\nstationary; the Moon generally intersects the Plane of the Earth’s\r\norbit behind the point where she had intersected it in her former\r\nrevolution; but she sometimes intersects it before that point, and\r\nsometimes in the very same point. It is the situation of those Nodes\r\nwhich determines the times of Eclipses, and their motions had, upon\r\nthis account, at all times, been particularly attended to by\r\nAstronomers. Nothing, however, had perplexed them more, than to\r\naccount for these so inconsistent motions, and, at the same time,\r\npreserve their so much sought-for regularity in the revolutions of the\r\nMoon. For they had no other means of connecting the appearances\r\ntogether than by supposing the motions which produced them, to be, in\r\nreality, perfectly regular and equable. The history of Astronomy,\r\ntherefore, gives an account of a greater number of theories invented\r\nfor connecting together the motions of the Moon, than for connecting\r\ntogether those of all the other heavenly bodies taken together. The\r\ntheory of gravity, connected together, in the most accurate manner, by\r\nthe different actions of the Sun and the Earth, all those irregular\r\nmotions; and it appears, by calculation, that the time, the quantity,\r\nand the duration of those direct and retrograde motions of the Nodes,\r\nas well as of their stationary appearances, might be expected to be\r\nexactly such, as the observations of Astronomers have determined\r\nthem.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe same principle, the attraction of the Sun, which thus accounts\r\nfor the motions of the Nodes, connects, too, another very perplexing\r\nirregularity in the appearances of the Moon; the perpetual variation\r\nin the inclination of her orbit to that of the Earth.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eAs the Moon revolves in an ellipse, which has the centre of the\r\n\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page381\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e381\u003c/span\u003e Earth in one of its foci, the longer axis of its orbit is called\r\nthe Line of its Apsides. This line is found, by observation, not to be\r\nalways directed towards the same points of the Firmament, but to\r\nrevolve forwards from west to east, so as to pass through all the\r\npoints of the Ecliptic, and to complete its period in about nine\r\nyears; another irregularity, which had very much perplexed\r\nAstronomers, but which the theory of gravity sufficiently accounted\r\nfor.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe Earth had hitherto been regarded as perfectly globular,\r\nprobably for the same reason which had made men imagine, that the\r\norbits of the Planets must necessarily be perfectly circular. But Sir\r\nIsaac Newton, from mechanical principles, concluded, that, as the\r\nparts of the Earth must be more agitated by her diurnal revolution at\r\nthe Equator, than at the Poles, they must necessarily be somewhat\r\nelevated at the first, and flattened at the second. The observation,\r\nthat the oscillations of pendulums were slower at the Equator than at\r\nthe Poles, seeming to demonstrate, that gravity was stronger at the\r\nPoles, and weaker at the Equator, proved, he thought, that the Equator\r\nwas further from the centre than the Poles. All the measures, however,\r\nwhich had hitherto been made of the Earth, seemed to show the\r\ncontrary, that it was drawn out towards the Poles, and flattened\r\ntowards the Equator. Newton, however, preferred his mechanical\r\ncomputations to the former measures of Geographers and Astronomers;\r\nand in this he was confirmed by the observations of Astronomers on the\r\nfigure of Jupiter, whose diameter at the Pole seems to be to his\r\ndiameter at the Equator, as twelve to thirteen; a much greater\r\ninequality than could be supposed to take place betwixt the\r\ncorrespondent diameters of the Earth, but which was exactly\r\nproportioned to the superior bulk of Jupiter, and the superior\r\nrapidity with which he performs his diurnal revolutions. The\r\nobservations of Astronomers at Lapland and Peru have fully confirmed\r\nSir Isaac’s system, and have not only demonstrated, that the figure of\r\nthe Earth is, in general, such as he supposed it; but that the\r\nproportion of its axis to the diameter of its Equator is almost\r\nprecisely such as he had computed it. And of all the proofs that have\r\never been adduced of the diurnal revolution of the Earth, this perhaps\r\nis the most solid and most satisfactory.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eHipparchus, by comparing his own observations with those of some\r\nformer Astronomers, had found that the equinoctial points were not\r\nalways opposite to the same part of the Heavens, but that they\r\nadvanced gradually eastward by so slow a motion, as to be scarce\r\nsensible in one hundred years, and which would require thirty-six\r\nthousand to make a complete revolution of the Equinoxes, and to carry\r\nthem successively through all the different points of the Ecliptic.\r\nMore accurate observations discovered that this procession of the\r\nEquinoxes was not so slow as Hipparchus had imagined it, and that it\r\nrequired somewhat less than twenty-six thousand years to give them a\r\ncomplete \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page382\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e382\u003c/span\u003e revolution. While the ancient system of Astronomy,\r\nwhich represented the Earth as the immovable centre of the universe,\r\ntook place, this appearance was necessarily accounted for, by\r\nsupposing that the Firmament, besides its rapid diurnal revolution\r\nround the poles of the Equator, had likewise a slow periodical one\r\nround those of the Ecliptic. And when the system of Hipparchus was by\r\nthe schoolmen united with the solid Spheres of Aristotle, they placed\r\na new crystalline Sphere above the Firmament, in order to join this\r\nmotion to the rest. In the Copernican system, this appearance had\r\nhitherto been connected with the other parts of that hypothesis, by\r\nsupposing a small revolution in the Earth’s axis from east to west.\r\nSir Isaac Newton connected this motion by the same principle of\r\ngravity, by which he had united all the others, and showed, how the\r\nelevation of the parts of the Earth at the Equator must, by the\r\nattraction of the Sun, produce the same retrograde motion of the Nodes\r\nof the Ecliptic, which it produced of the Nodes of the Moon. He\r\ncomputed the quantity of motion which could arise from this action of\r\nthe Sun, and his calculations here too corresponded with the\r\nobservations of Astronomers.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eComets have hitherto, of all the appearances in the Heavens, been\r\nthe least attended to by Astronomers. The rarity and inconstancy of\r\ntheir appearance, seemed to separate them entirely from the constant,\r\nregular, and uniform objects in the Heavens, and to make them resemble\r\nmore the inconstant, transitory, and accidental phenomena of those\r\nregions that are in the neighbourhood of the Earth. Aristotle,\r\nEudoxus, Hipparchus, Ptolemy, and Purbach, therefore, had all degraded\r\nthem below the Moon, and ranked them among the meteors of the upper\r\nregions of the air. The observations of Tycho Brahe demonstrated, that\r\nthey ascended into the celestial regions, and were often higher than\r\nVenus or the Sun. Des Cartes, at random, supposed them to be always\r\nhigher than even the orbit of Saturn; and seems, by the superior\r\nelevation he thus bestowed upon them, to have been willing to\r\ncompensate that unjust degradation which they had suffered for so many\r\nages before. The observations of some later Astronomers demonstrated,\r\nthat they too revolved about the Sun, and might therefore be parts of\r\nthe Solar System. Newton accordingly applied his mechanical principle\r\nof gravity to explain the motions of these bodies. That they described\r\nequal areas in equal times, had been discovered by the observations of\r\nsome later Astronomers; and Newton endeavoured to show how from this\r\nprinciple, and those observations, the nature and position of their\r\nseveral orbits might be ascertained, and their periodic times\r\ndetermined. His followers have, from his principles, ventured even to\r\npredict the returns of several of them, particularly of one which is\r\nto make its appearance in 1758.\u003ca href=\"#FootnoteC1\" id=\"FnAnchorC1\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003e\u003cspan class=\"sp\"\u003e1\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/a\u003e We must wait for that time \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page383\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e383\u003c/span\u003e\r\nbefore we can determine, whether his philosophy corresponds as happily\r\nto this part of the system as to all the others. In the meantime,\r\nhowever, the ductility of this principle, which applied itself so\r\nhappily to these, the most irregular of all the celestial appearances,\r\nand which has introduced such complete coherence into the motions of\r\nall the Heavenly Bodies, has served not a little to recommend it to\r\nthe imaginations of mankind.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"footnote\"\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"fn\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"FootnoteC1\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca href=\"#FnAnchorC1\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003e\u003csup\u003e1\u003c/sup\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e It must be observed, that the whole of this Essay was\r\nwritten previous to the date here mentioned; and that the return of\r\nthe comet happened agreeably to the prediction.\u003c/p\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eBut of all the attempts of the Newtonian philosophy, that which\r\nwould appear to be the most above the reach of human reason and\r\nexperience, is the attempt to compute the weights and densities of the\r\nSun, and of the several Planets. An attempt, however, which was\r\nindispensably necessary to complete the coherence of the Newtonian\r\nsystem. The power of attraction which, according to the theory of\r\ngravity, each body possesses, is in proportion to the quantity of\r\nmatter contained in that body. But the periodic time in which one\r\nbody, at a given distance, revolves round another that attracts it, is\r\nshorter in proportion as this power is greater, and consequently as\r\nthe quantity of matter in the attracting body. If the densities of\r\nJupiter and Saturn were the same with that of the Earth, the periodic\r\ntimes of their several Satellites would be shorter than by observation\r\nthey are found to be. Because the quantity of matter, and consequently\r\nthe attracting power of each of them, would be as the cubes of their\r\ndiameters. By comparing the bulks of those Planets, and the periodic\r\ntimes of their Satellites, it is found that, upon the hypothesis of\r\ngravity, the density of Jupiter must be greater than that of Saturn,\r\nand the density of the Earth greater than that of Jupiter. This seems\r\nto establish it as a law in the system, that the nearer the several\r\nPlanets approach to the Sun, the density of their matter is the\r\ngreater: a constitution of things which seems to be the most\r\nadvantageous of any that could have been established; as water of the\r\nsame density with that of our Earth, would freeze under the Equator of\r\nSaturn, and boil under that of Mercury.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eSuch is the system of Sir Isaac Newton, a system whose parts are\r\nall more strictly connected together, than those of any other\r\nphilosophical hypothesis. Allow his principle, the universality of\r\ngravity, and that it decreases as the squares of the distance\r\nincrease, and all the appearances, which he joins together by it,\r\nnecessarily follow. Neither is their connection merely a general and\r\nloose connection, as that of most other systems, in which either these\r\nappearances, or some such like appearances, might indifferently have\r\nbeen expected. It is everywhere the most precise and particular that\r\ncan be imagined, and ascertains the time, the place, the quantity, the\r\nduration of each individual phenomenon, to be exactly such as, by\r\nobservation, they have been determined to be. Neither are the\r\nprinciples of union, which it employs, such as the imagination can\r\nfind any difficulty in going along with. The gravity of matter is, of\r\nall its qualities, after its inertness, \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page384\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e384\u003c/span\u003e that which is most\r\nfamiliar to us. We never act upon it without having occasion to\r\nobserve this property. The law too, by which it is supposed to\r\ndiminish as it recedes from its centre, is the same which takes place\r\nin all other qualities which are propagated in rays from a centre, in\r\nlight, and in every thing else of the same kind. It is such, that we\r\nnot only find that it does take place in all such qualities, but we\r\nare necessarily determined to conceive that, from the nature of the\r\nthing, it must take place. The opposition which was made in France,\r\nand in some other foreign nations, to the prevalence of this system,\r\ndid not arise from any difficulty which mankind naturally felt in\r\nconceiving gravity as an original and primary mover in the\r\nconstitution of the universe. The Cartesian system, which had\r\nprevailed so generally before it, had accustomed mankind to conceive\r\nmotion as never beginning, but in consequence of impulse, and had\r\nconnected the descent of heavy bodies, near the surface of the Earth,\r\nand the other Planets, by this more general bond of union; and it was\r\nthe attachment the world had conceived for this account of things,\r\nwhich indisposed them to that of Sir Isaac Newton. His system,\r\nhowever, now prevails over all opposition, and has advanced to the\r\nacquisition of the most universal empire that was ever established in\r\nphilosophy. His principles, it must be acknowledged, have a degree of\r\nfirmness and solidity that we should in vain look for in any other\r\nsystem. The most sceptical cannot avoid feeling this. They not only\r\nconnect together most perfectly all the phenomena of the Heavens,\r\nwhich had been observed before his time; but those also which the\r\npersevering industry and more perfect instruments of later Astronomers\r\nhave made known to us have been either easily and immediately\r\nexplained by the application of his principles, or have been explained\r\nin consequence of more laborious and accurate calculations from these\r\nprinciples, than had been instituted before. And even we, while we\r\nhave been endeavouring to represent all philosophical systems as mere\r\ninventions of the imagination, to connect together the otherwise\r\ndisjointed and discordant phenomena of Nature, have insensibly been\r\ndrawn in, to make use of language expressing the connecting principles\r\nof this one, as if they were the real chains which Nature makes use of\r\nto bind together her several operations. Can we wonder then, that it\r\nshould have gained the general and complete approbation of mankind,\r\nand that it should now be considered, not as an attempt to connect in\r\nthe imagination the phenomena of the Heavens, but as the greatest\r\ndiscovery that ever was made by man, the discovery of an immense chain\r\nof the most important and sublime truths, all closely connected\r\ntogether, by one capital fact, of the reality of which we have daily\r\nexperience.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp class=\"center\"\u003e* * * * * * * *\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp class=\"center\"\u003e* * * * * * * *\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e385\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp class=\"center\"\u003e\u003ci\u003eNote by the Editors.\u003c/i\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe Author, at the end of this Essay, left some Notes and\r\nMemorandums, from which it appears, that he considered this last part\r\nof his History of Astronomy as imperfect, and needing several\r\nadditions. The Editors, however, chose rather to publish than\r\nsuppress it. It must be viewed, not as a History or Account of Sir\r\nIsaac Newton’s Astronomy, but chiefly as an additional illustration of\r\nthose Principles in the Human Mind which Mr. Smith has pointed out to\r\nbe the universal motives of Philosophical Researches.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003chr class=\"thirty\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003ch3 id=\"D\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page385\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003eTHE PRINCIPLES\u003c/h3\u003e\r\n\u003ch6\u003eWHICH LEAD AND DIRECT\u003c/h6\u003e\r\n\u003ch2\u003ePHILOSOPHICAL ENQUIRIES;\u003c/h2\u003e\r\n\u003ch6\u003eILLUSTRATED BY THE\u003c/h6\u003e\r\n\u003ch3\u003eHISTORY OF THE ANCIENT PHYSICS.\u003c/h3\u003e\r\n\u003chr\u003e\r\n\u003cp class=\"noind\"\u003eF\u003cspan class=\"smcap\"\u003eROM\u003c/span\u003e arranging and methodizing the System of the Heavens,\r\nPhilosophy descended to the consideration of the inferior parts of\r\nNature, of the Earth, and of the bodies which immediately surround it.\r\nIf the objects, which were here presented to its view, were inferior\r\nin greatness or beauty, and therefore less apt to attract the\r\nattention of the mind, they were more apt, when they came to be\r\nattended to, to embarrass and perplex it, by the variety of their\r\nspecies, and by the intricacy and seeming irregularity of the laws or\r\norders of their succession. The species of objects in the Heavens are\r\nfew in number; the Sun, the Moon, the Planets, and the Fixed Stars,\r\nare all which those philosophers could distinguish. All the changes\r\ntoo, which are ever observed in these bodies, evidently arise from\r\nsome difference in the velocity and direction of their several\r\nmotions; but the variety of meteors in the air, of clouds, rainbows,\r\nthunder, lightning, winds, rain, hail, snow, is vastly greater; and\r\nthe order of their succession seems to be still more irregular and\r\ninconstant. The species of fossils, minerals, plants, animals, which\r\nare found in the Waters, and near the surface of the Earth, are still\r\nmore intricately diversified; and if we regard the \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page386\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e386\u003c/span\u003e different\r\nmanners of their production, their mutual influence in altering,\r\ndestroying, supporting one another, the orders of their succession\r\nseem to admit of an almost infinite variety. If the imagination,\r\ntherefore, when it considered the appearances in the Heavens, was\r\noften perplexed, and driven out of its natural career, it would be\r\nmuch more exposed to the same embarrassment, when it directed its\r\nattention to the objects which the Earth presented to it, and when it\r\nendeavoured to trace their progress and successive revolutions.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eTo introduce order and coherence into the mind’s conception of this\r\nseeming chaos of dissimilar and disjointed appearances, it was\r\nnecessary to deduce all their qualities, operations, and laws of\r\nsuccession, from those of some particular things, with which it was\r\nperfectly acquainted and familiar, and along which its imagination\r\ncould glide smoothly and easily, and without interruption. But as we\r\nwould in vain attempt to deduce the heat of a stove from that of an\r\nopen chimney, unless we could show that the same fire which was\r\nexposed in the one, lay concealed in the other; so it was impossible\r\nto deduce the qualities and laws of succession, observed in the more\r\nuncommon appearances of Nature, from those of such as were more\r\nfamiliar, if those customary objects were not supposed, however\r\ndisguised in their appearance, to enter into the composition of those\r\nrarer and more singular phenomena. To render, therefore, this lower\r\npart of the great theatre of nature a coherent spectacle to the\r\nimagination, it became necessary to suppose, first, That all the\r\nstrange objects of which it consisted were made up out of a few, with\r\nwhich the mind was extremely familiar: and secondly, That all their\r\nqualities, operations and rules of succession, were no more than\r\ndifferent diversifications of those to which it had long been\r\naccustomed, in these primary and elementary objects.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eOf all the bodies of which these inferior parts of the universe\r\nseem to be composed, those with which we are most familiar, are the\r\nEarth, which we tread upon; the Water, which we every day use; the\r\nAir, which we constantly breathe; and the Fire, whose benign influence\r\nis not only required for preparing the common necessaries of life, but\r\nfor the continual support of that vital principle which actuates both\r\nplants and animals. These therefore, were by Empedocles, and the other\r\nphilosophers of the Italian school, supposed to be the elements, out\r\nof which, at least, all the inferior parts of nature were composed.\r\nThe familiarity of those bodies to the mind, naturally disposed it to\r\nlook for some resemblance to them in whatever else was presented to\r\nits consideration. The discovery of some such resemblance united the\r\nnew object to an assortment of things, with which the imagination was\r\nperfectly acquainted. And if any analogy could be observed betwixt the\r\noperations and laws of succession of the compound, and those of the\r\nsimple objects, the movement of the fancy, in tracing their progress,\r\n\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page387\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e387\u003c/span\u003e became quite smooth, and natural, and easy. This natural\r\nanticipation, too, was still more confirmed by such a slight and\r\ninaccurate analysis of things, as could be expected in the infancy of\r\nscience, when the curiosity of mankind, grasping at an account of all\r\nthings before it had got full satisfaction with regard to any one,\r\nhurried on to build, in imagination, the immense fabric of the\r\nuniverse. The heat, observed in both plants and animals, seemed to\r\ndemonstrate, that Fire made a part of their composition. Air was not\r\nless necessary for the subsistence of both, and seemed, too, to enter\r\ninto the fabric of animals by respiration, and into that of plants by\r\nsome other means. The juices which circulated through them showed how\r\nmuch of their texture was owing to Water. And their resolution into\r\nEarth by putrefaction discovered that this element had not been left\r\nout in their original formation. A similar analysis seemed to show the\r\nsame principles in most of the other compound bodies.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe vast extent of those bodies seemed to render them, upon another\r\naccount, proper to be the great stores out of which nature compounded\r\nall the other species of things. Earth and Water divide almost the\r\nwhole of the terrestrial globe between them. The thin transparent\r\ncovering of the Air surrounds it to an immense height upon all sides.\r\nFire, with its attendant, light, seems to descend from the celestial\r\nregions, and might, therefore, either be supposed to be diffused\r\nthrough the whole of those etherial spaces, as well as to be condensed\r\nand conglobated in those luminous bodies, which sparkle across them,\r\nas by the Stoics; or, to be placed immediately under the sphere of the\r\nMoon, in the region next below them, as by the Peripatetics, who could\r\nnot reconcile the devouring nature of Fire with the supposed\r\nunchangeable essence of their solid and crystalline spheres.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe qualities, too, by which we are chiefly accustomed to\r\ncharacterize and distinguish natural bodies, are all of them found, in\r\nthe highest degree in those Four Elements. The great divisions of the\r\nobjects, near the surface of the Earth, are those into hot and cold,\r\nmoist and dry, light and heavy. These are the most remarkable\r\nproperties of bodies; and it is upon them that many of their other\r\nmost sensible qualities and powers seem to depend. Of these, heat and\r\ncold were naturally enough regarded by those first enquirers into\r\nnature, as the active, moisture and dryness, as the passive qualities\r\nof matter. It was the temperature of heat and cold which seemed to\r\noccasion the growth and dissolution of plants and animals; as appeared\r\nevident from the effects of the change of the seasons upon both. A\r\nproper degree of moisture and dryness was not less necessary for these\r\npurposes; as was evident from the different effects and productions of\r\nwet and dry seasons and soils. It was the heat and cold, however,\r\nwhich actuated and determined those two otherwise inert qualities of\r\nthings, to a state either of rest or motion. Gravity and levity were\r\nregarded \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page388\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e388\u003c/span\u003e as the two principles of motion, which directed all\r\nsublunary things to their proper place: and all those six qualities,\r\ntaken together, were, upon such an inattentive view of nature, as must\r\nbe expected in the beginnings of philosophy, readily enough\r\napprehended to be capable of connecting together the most remarkable\r\nrevolutions, which occur in these inferior parts of the universe. Heat\r\nand dryness were the qualities which characterized the element of\r\nFire; heat and moisture that of Air; moisture and cold that of Water;\r\ncold and dryness that of Earth. The natural motion of two of these\r\nelements, Earth and Water, was downwards, upon account of their\r\ngravity. This tendency, however, was stronger in the one than in the\r\nother, upon account of the superior gravity of Earth. The natural\r\nmotion of the two other elements, Fire and Air, was upwards, upon\r\naccount of their levity; and this tendency, too, was stronger in the\r\none than in the other, upon account of the superior levity of Fire.\r\nLet us not despise those ancient philosophers, for thus supposing,\r\nthat these two elements had a positive levity, or a real tendency\r\nupwards. Let us remember, that this notion has an appearance of being\r\nconfirmed by the most obvious observations; that those facts and\r\nexperiments, which demonstrate the weight of the Air, and which no\r\nsuperior sagacity, but chance alone, presented to the moderns, were\r\naltogether unknown to them; and that, what might, in some measure,\r\nhave supplied the place of those experiments, the reasonings\r\nconcerning the causes of the ascent of bodies, in fluids specifically\r\nheavier than themselves, seem to have been unknown in the ancient\r\nworld, till Archimedes discovered them, long after their system of\r\nphysics was completed, and had acquired an established reputation:\r\nthat those reasonings are far from being obvious, and that by their\r\ninventor, they seem to have been thought applicable only to the ascent\r\nof Solids in Water, and not even to that of Solids in Air, much less\r\nto that of one fluid in another. But it is this last only which could\r\nexplain the ascent of flame, vapours, and fiery exhalations, without\r\nthe supposition of a specific levity.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThus, each of those Four Elements had, in the system of the\r\nUniverse, a place which was peculiarly allotted to it, and to which it\r\nnaturally tended. Earth and Water rolled down to the centre; the Air\r\nspread itself above them; while the Fire soared aloft, either to the\r\ncelestial region, or to that which was immediately below it. When each\r\nof those simple bodies had thus obtained its proper sphere, there was\r\nnothing in the nature of any one of them to make it pass into the\r\nplace of the other, to make the Fire descend into the Air, the Air\r\ninto the Water, or the Water into the Earth; or, on the contrary, to\r\nbring up the Earth into the place of the Water, the Water into that of\r\nthe Air, or the Air into that of the Fire. All sublunary things,\r\ntherefore, if left to themselves, would have remained in an eternal\r\nrepose. The revolution of the heavens, those of the Sun, Moon, and\r\nFive Planets, \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page389\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e389\u003c/span\u003e by producing the vicissitudes of Day and Night,\r\nand of the Seasons, prevented this torpor and inactivity from reigning\r\nthrough the inferior parts of nature; inflamed by the rapidity of\r\ntheir circumvolutions, the element of Fire, and forced it violently\r\ndownwards into the Air, into the Water, and into the Earth, and\r\nthereby produced those mixtures of the different elements which kept\r\nup the motion and circulation of the lower parts of Nature;\r\noccasioned, sometimes, the entire transmutation of one element into\r\nanother, and sometimes the production of forms and species different\r\nfrom them all, and in which, though the qualities of them all might be\r\nfound, they were so altered and attempered by the mixture, as scarce\r\nto be distinguishable.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThus, if a small quantity of Fire was mixed with a great quantity\r\nof Air, the moisture and moderate warmth of the one entirely\r\nsurmounted and changed into their own essence the intense heat and\r\ndryness of the other; and the whole aggregate became Air. The contrary\r\nof which happened, if a small quantity of Air was mixed with a great\r\nquantity of Fire: the whole, in this case, became Fire. In the same\r\nmanner, if a small quantity of Fire was mixed with a great quantity of\r\nWater, then, either the moisture and cold of the Water might surmount\r\nthe heat and dryness of the Fire, so that the whole should become\r\nWater; or, the moisture of the Water might surmount the dryness of the\r\nFire, while, in its turn, the heat of the Fire surmounted the coldness\r\nof the Water, so as that the whole aggregate, its qualities being heat\r\nand moisture, should become Air, which was regarded as the more\r\nnatural and easy metamorphosis of the two. In the same manner they\r\nexplained how like changes were produced by the different mixtures of\r\nFire and Earth, Earth and Water, Water and Air, Air and Earth; and\r\nthus they connected together the successive transmutations of the\r\nelements into one another.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eEvery mixture of the Elements, however, did not produce an entire\r\ntransmutation. They were sometimes so blended together, that the\r\nqualities of the one, not being able to destroy, served only to\r\nattemper those of the other. Thus Fire, when mixed with Water,\r\nproduced sometimes a watery vapour, whose qualities were heat and\r\nmoisture; which partook at once of the levity of the Fire, and of the\r\ngravity of the Water, and which was elevated by the first into the\r\nAir, but retained by the last from ascending into the region of Fire.\r\nThe relative cold, which they supposed prevailed in the middle region\r\nof the Air, upon account of its equal distance, both from the region\r\nof Fire, and from the rays that are reflected by the surface of the\r\nEarth, condensed this vapour into Water; the Fire escaped it, and flew\r\nupwards, and the Water fell down in rain, or, according to the\r\ndifferent degrees of cold that prevailed in the different seasons, was\r\nsometimes congealed into snow, and sometimes into hail. In the same\r\nmanner, Fire, when mixed with Earth, produced sometimes a fiery\r\nexhalation, whose qualities \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page390\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e390\u003c/span\u003e were heat and dryness, which being\r\nelevated by the levity of the first into the Air condensed by the\r\ncold, so as to take fire, and being at the same time surrounded by\r\nwatery vapours, burst forth into thunder and lightning, and other\r\nfiery meteors. Thus they connected together the different appearances\r\nin the Air, by the qualities of their Four Elements; and from them,\r\ntoo, in the same manner, they endeavoured to deduce all the other\r\nqualities in the other homogeneous bodies, that are near the surface\r\nof the Earth. Thus, to give an example, with regard to the hardness\r\nand softness of bodies; heat and moisture, they observed, were the\r\ngreat softeners of matter. Whatever was hard, therefore, owed that\r\nquality either to the absence of heat, or to the absence of moisture.\r\nIce, crystal, lead, gold, and almost all metals, owed their hardness\r\nto the absence of heat, and were, therefore, dissolvable by Fire.\r\nRock-salt, nitre, alum, and hard clay, owed that quality to the\r\nabsence of moisture, and were therefore, dissolvable in water. And, in\r\nthe same manner, they endeavoured to connect together most of the\r\nother tangible qualities of matter. Their principles of union, indeed,\r\nwere often such as had no real existence, and were always vague and\r\nundetermined in the highest degree; they were such, however, as might\r\nbe expected in the beginnings of science, and such as, with all their\r\nimperfections, could enable mankind both to think and to talk, with\r\nmore coherence, concerning those general subjects, than without them\r\nthey would have been capable of doing. Neither was their system\r\nentirely devoid either of beauty or magnificence. Each of the Four\r\nElements having a particular region allotted to it, had a place of\r\nrest, to which it naturally tended, by its motion, either up or down,\r\nin a straight line, and where, when it had arrived, it naturally\r\nceased to move. Earth descended, till it arrived at the place of\r\nEarth; Water, till it arrived at that of Water; and Air, till it\r\narrived at that of Air; and there each of them tended to a state of\r\neternal repose and inaction. The Spheres consisted of a Fifth Element,\r\nwhich was neither light nor heavy, and whose natural motion made it\r\ntend, neither to the centre, nor from the centre, but revolve round it\r\nin a circle. As, by this motion, they could never change their\r\nsituation with regard to the centre, they had no place of repose, no\r\nplace to which they naturally tended more than to any other, but\r\nrevolved round and round for ever. This Fifth Element was subject\r\nneither to generation nor corruption, nor alteration of any kind; for\r\nwhatever changes may happen in the Heavens, the senses can scarce\r\nperceive them, and their appearance is the same in one age as in\r\nanother. The beauty, too, of their supposed crystalline spheres seemed\r\nstill more to entitle them to this distinction of unchangeable\r\nimmortality. It was the motion of those Spheres, which occasioned the\r\nmixtures of the Elements, and from hence, the production of all the\r\nforms and species, that diversify the world. It was the approach of\r\nthe Sun and of the \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page391\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e391\u003c/span\u003e other Planets, to the different parts of the\r\nEarth, which, by forcing down the element of Fire, occasioned the\r\ngeneration of those forms. It was the recess of those bodies, which,\r\nby allowing each Element to escape to its proper sphere, brought\r\nabout, in an equal time, their corruption. It was the periods of those\r\ngreat lights of Heaven, which measured out to all sublunary things,\r\nthe term of their duration, of their growth, and of their decay,\r\neither in one, or in a number of seasons, according as the Elements of\r\nwhich they were composed, were either imperfectly or accurately\r\nblended and mixed with one another. Immortality, they could bestow\r\nupon no individual form, because the principles out of which it was\r\nformed, all tending to disengage themselves, and to return to their\r\nproper spheres, necessarily, at last, brought about its dissolution.\r\nBut, though all individuals were thus perishable, and constantly\r\ndecaying, every species was immortal, because the subject-matter out\r\nof which they were made, and the revolution of the Heavens, the cause\r\nof their successive generations, continued to be always the same.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIn the first ages of the world, the seeming incoherence of the\r\nappearances of nature, so confounded mankind, that they despaired of\r\ndiscovering in her operations any regular system. Their ignorance, and\r\nconfusion of thought, necessarily gave birth to that pusillanimous\r\nsuperstition, which ascribes almost every unexpected event, to the\r\narbitrary will of some designing, though invisible beings, who\r\nproduced it for some private and particular purpose. The idea of an\r\nuniversal mind, of a God of all, who originally formed the whole, and\r\nwho governs the whole by general laws, directed to the conservation\r\nand prosperity of the whole, without regard to that of any private\r\nindividual, was a notion to which they were utterly strangers. Their\r\ngods, though they were apprehended to interpose, upon some particular\r\noccasions, were so far from being regarded as the creators of the\r\nworld, that their origin was apprehended to be posterior to that of\r\nthe world. The Earth, according to Hesiod, was the first production of\r\nthe chaos. The Heavens arose out of the Earth, and from both together,\r\nall the gods, who afterwards inhabited them. Nor was this notion\r\nconfined to the vulgar, and to those poets who seem to have recorded\r\nthe vulgar theology. Of all the philosophers of the Ionian school,\r\nAnaxagoras, it is well known, was the first who supposed that mind and\r\nunderstanding were requisite to account for the first origin of the\r\nworld, and who, therefore, compared with the other philosophers of his\r\ntime, talked, as Aristotle observes, like a sober man among drunkards;\r\nbut whose opinion was, at the time, so remarkable, that he seems to\r\nhave got a sirname from it. The same notion, of the spontaneous origin\r\nof the world, was embraced, too, as the same author tells, by the\r\nearly Pythagoreans, a sect, which, in the ancient world, was never\r\nregarded as irreligious. Mind, and understanding, and consequently\r\nDeity, being \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page392\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e392\u003c/span\u003e the most perfect, were necessarily, according to\r\nthem, the last productions of Nature. For in all other things, what\r\nwas most perfect, they observed, always came last. As in plants and\r\nanimals, it is not the seed that is most perfect, but the complete\r\nanimal, with all its members, in the one; and the complete plant, with\r\nall its branches, leaves, flowers, and fruits, in the other. This\r\nnotion, which could take place only while Nature was still considered\r\nas, in some measure, disorderly and inconsistent in her operations,\r\nwas necessarily renounced by those philosophers, when, upon a more\r\nattentive survey, they discovered, or imagined they had discovered,\r\nmore distinctly, the chain which bound all her different parts to one\r\nanother. As soon as the Universe was regarded as a complete machine,\r\nas a coherent system, governed by general laws, and directed to\r\ngeneral ends, viz. its own preservation and prosperity, and that of\r\nall the species that are in it; the resemblance which it evidently\r\nbore to those machines which are produced by human art, necessarily\r\nimpressed those sages with a belief, that in the original formation of\r\nthe world there must have been employed an art resembling the human\r\nart, but as much superior to it, as the world is superior to the\r\nmachines which that art produces. The unity of the system, which,\r\naccording to this ancient philosophy, is most perfect, suggested the\r\nidea of the unity of that principle, by whose art it was formed; and\r\nthus, as ignorance begot superstition, science gave birth to the first\r\ntheism that arose among those nations, who were not enlightened by\r\ndivine Revelation. According to Timæus, who was followed by Plato,\r\nthat intelligent Being who formed the world endowed it with a\r\nprinciple of life and understanding, which extends from its centre to\r\nits remotest circumference, which is conscious of all its changes, and\r\nwhich governs and directs all its motions to the great end of its\r\nformation. This soul of the world was itself a God, the greatest of\r\nall the inferior, and created deities; of an essence that was\r\nindissoluble, by any power but by that of him who made it, and which\r\nwas united to the body of the world, so as to be inseparable by every\r\nforce, but his who joined them, from the exertion of which his\r\ngoodness secured them. The beauty of the celestial spheres attracting\r\nthe admiration of mankind, the constancy and regularity of their\r\nmotions seeming to manifest peculiar wisdom and understanding, they\r\nwere each of them supposed to be animated by an Intelligence of a\r\nnature that was, in the same manner, indissoluble and immortal, and\r\ninseparably united to that sphere which it inhabited. All the mortal\r\nand changeable beings which people the surface of the earth were\r\nformed by those inferior deities; for the revolutions of the heavenly\r\nbodies seemed plainly to influence the generation and growth of both\r\nplants and animals, whose frail and fading forms bore the too evident\r\nmarks of the weakness of those inferior causes, which joined their\r\ndifferent parts to one another. According to Plato and Timæus, neither\r\nthe \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page393\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e393\u003c/span\u003e Universe, nor even those inferior deities who govern the\r\nUniverse, were eternal, but were formed in time, by the great Author\r\nof all things, out of that matter which had existed from all eternity.\r\nThis at least their words seemed to import, and thus they are\r\nunderstood by Cicero, and by all the other writers of earlier\r\nantiquity, though some of the later Platonists have interpreted them\r\ndifferently.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eAccording to Aristotle, who seems to have followed the doctrine of\r\nOcellus, the world was eternal; the eternal effect of an eternal\r\ncause. He found it difficult, it would seem, to conceive what could\r\nhinder the First Cause from exerting his divine energy from all\r\neternity. At whatever time he began to exert it, he must have been at\r\nrest during all the infinite ages of that eternity which had passed\r\nbefore it. To what obstruction, from within or from without, could\r\nthis be owing? or how could this obstruction, if it ever had\r\nsubsisted, have ever been removed? His idea of the nature and manner\r\nof existence of this First Cause, as it is expressed in the last book\r\nof his Physics, and the five last chapters of his Metaphysics, is\r\nindeed obscure and unintelligible in the highest degree, and has\r\nperplexed his commentators more than any other parts of his writings.\r\nThus far, however, he seems to express himself plainly enough: that\r\nthe First Heavens, that of the Fixed Stars, from which are derived the\r\nmotions of all the rest, is revolved by an eternal, immovable,\r\nunchangeable, unextended being, whose essence consists in\r\nintelligence, as that of a body consists in solidity and extension;\r\nand which is therefore necessarily and always intelligent, as a body\r\nis necessarily and always extended: that this Being was the first and\r\nsupreme mover of the Universe: that the inferior Planetary Spheres\r\nderived each of them its peculiar revolution from an inferior being of\r\nthe same kind; eternal, immovable, unextended, and necessarily\r\nintelligent: that the sole object of the intelligences of those beings\r\nwas their own essence, and the revolution of their own spheres; all\r\nother inferior things being unworthy of their consideration; and that\r\ntherefore whatever was below the Moon was abandoned by the gods to the\r\ndirection of Nature, and Chance, and Necessity. For though those\r\ncelestial beings were, by the revolutions of their several Spheres,\r\nthe original causes of the generation and corruption of all sublunary\r\nforms, they were causes who neither knew nor intended the effects\r\nwhich they produced. This renowned philosopher seems, in his\r\ntheological notions, to have been directed by prejudices which, though\r\nextremely natural, are not very philosophical. The revolutions of the\r\nHeavens, by their grandeur and constancy, excited his admiration, and\r\nseemed, upon that account, to be effects not unworthy a Divine\r\nIntelligence. Whereas the meanness of many things, the disorder and\r\nconfusion of all things below, exciting no such agreeable emotion,\r\nseemed to have no marks of being directed by that Supreme\r\nUnderstanding. Yet, though this opinion saps the foundations of human\r\nworship, and must have the \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page394\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e394\u003c/span\u003e same effects upon society as Atheism\r\nitself, one may easily trace, in the Metaphysics upon which it is\r\ngrounded, the origin of many of the notions, or rather of many of the\r\nexpressions, in the scholastic theology, to which no notions can be\r\nannexed.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe Stoics, the most religious of all the ancient sects of\r\nphilosophers, seem in this, as in most other things, to have altered\r\nand refined upon the doctrine of Plato. The order, harmony, and\r\ncoherence which this philosophy bestowed upon the Universal System,\r\nstruck them with awe and veneration. As, in the rude ages of the\r\nworld, whatever particular part of Nature excited the admiration of\r\nmankind, was apprehended to be animated by some particular divinity;\r\nso the whole of Nature having, by their reasonings, become equally the\r\nobject of admiration, was equally apprehended to be animated by a\r\nUniversal Deity, to be itself a Divinity, an Animal; a term which to\r\nour ears seems by no means synonymous with the foregoing; whose body\r\nwas the solid and sensible parts of Nature, and whose soul was that\r\netherial Fire, which penetrated and actuated the whole. For of all the\r\nfour elements, out of which all things were composed, Fire or Ether\r\nseemed to be that which bore the greatest resemblance to the Vital\r\nPrinciple which informs both plants and animals, and therefore most\r\nlikely to be the Vital Principle which animated the Universe. This\r\ninfinite and unbounded Ether, which extended itself from the centre\r\nbeyond the remotest circumference of Nature, and was endowed with the\r\nmost consummate reason and intelligence, or rather was itself the very\r\nessence of reason and intelligence, had originally formed the world,\r\nand had communicated a portion, or ray, of its own essence to whatever\r\nwas endowed with life and sensation, which, upon the dissolution of\r\nthose forms, either immediately or some time after, was again absorbed\r\ninto that ocean of Deity from whence it had originally been detached.\r\nIn this system the Sun, the Moon, the Planets, and the Fixed Stars,\r\nwere each of them also inferior divinities, animated by a detached\r\nportion of that etherial essence which was the soul of the world. In\r\nthe system of Plato, the Intelligence which animated the world was\r\ndifferent from that which originally formed it. Neither were these\r\nwhich animated the celestial spheres, nor those which informed\r\ninferior terrestrial animals, regarded as portions of this plastic\r\nsoul of the world. Upon the dissolution of animals, therefore, their\r\nsouls were not absorbed in the soul of the world, but had a separate\r\nand eternal existence, which gave birth to the notion of the\r\ntransmigration of souls. Neither did it seem unnatural, that, as the\r\nsame matter which had composed one animal body might be employed to\r\ncompose another, that the same intelligence which had animated one\r\nsuch being should again animate another. But in the system of the\r\nStoics, the intelligence which originally formed, and that which\r\nanimated the world, were one and the same, all inferior intelligences\r\nwere detached portions \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e395\u003c/span\u003e of the great one; and therefore, in a\r\nlonger, or in a shorter time, were all of them, even the gods\r\nthemselves, who animated the celestial bodies, to be at last resolved\r\ninto the infinite essence of this almighty Jupiter, who, at a distant\r\nperiod, should, by an universal conflagration, wrap up all things, in\r\nthat etherial and fiery nature, out of which they had originally been\r\ndeduced, again to bring forth a new Heaven and a new Earth, new\r\nanimals, new men, new deities; all of which would again, at a fated\r\ntime, be swallowed up in a like conflagration, again to be\r\nre-produced, and again to be re-destroyed, and so on without end.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003chr class=\"thirty\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003ch3 id=\"E\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page395\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003eTHE PRINCIPLES\u003c/h3\u003e\r\n\u003ch6\u003eWHICH LEAD AND DIRECT\u003c/h6\u003e\r\n\u003ch2\u003ePHILOSOPHICAL ENQUIRIES;\u003c/h2\u003e\r\n\u003ch6\u003eILLUSTRATED BY THE HISTORY OF THE\u003c/h6\u003e\r\n\u003ch3\u003eANCIENT LOGICS AND METAPHYSICS.\u003c/h3\u003e\r\n\u003chr\u003e\r\n\u003cp class=\"noind\"\u003eI\u003cspan class=\"smcap\"\u003eN\u003c/span\u003e every transmutation, either of one element into another, or of\r\none compound body either into the elements out of which it was\r\ncomposed, or into another compound body, it seemed evident, that both\r\nin the old and in the new species, there was something that was the\r\nsame, and something that was different. When Fire was changed into\r\nAir, or Water into Earth, the Stuff, or Subject-matter of this Air and\r\nthis Earth, was evidently the same with that of the former Fire or\r\nWater; but the Nature or Species of those new bodies was entirely\r\ndifferent. When, in the same manner, a number of fresh, green, and\r\nodoriferous flowers were thrown together in a heap, they, in a short\r\ntime, entirely changed their nature, became putrid and loathsome, and\r\ndissolved into a confused mass of ordure, which bore no resemblance,\r\neither in sensible qualities or in its effects, to their former\r\nbeautiful appearance. But how different soever the species, the\r\nsubject-matter of the flowers, and of the ordure, was, in this case\r\ntoo, evidently the same. In every body therefore, whether simple or\r\nmixed, there were evidently two principles, whose combination\r\nconstituted the whole nature of that particular body. The first was\r\nthe Stuff, or Subject-matter, out of which it was made; the second was\r\nthe Species, the Specific Essence, the Essential, or, as the schoolmen\r\nhave called it, the Substantial Form of the Body. \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page396\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e396\u003c/span\u003e The first\r\nseemed to be the same in all bodies, and to have neither qualities nor\r\npowers of any kind, but to be altogether inert and imperceptible by\r\nany of the senses, till it was qualified and rendered sensible by its\r\nunion with some species or essential form. All the qualities and\r\npowers of bodies seemed to depend upon their species or essential\r\nforms. It was not the stuff or matter of Fire, or Air, or Earth, or\r\nWater, which enabled those elements to produce their several effects,\r\nbut that essential form which was peculiar to each of them. For it\r\nseemed evident that Fire must produce the effects of Fire, by that\r\nwhich rendered it Fire; Air, by that which rendered it Air; and that\r\nin the same manner all other simple and mixed bodies must produce\r\ntheir several effects, by that which constituted them such or such\r\nbodies; that is, by their Specific Essence or essential forms. But it\r\nis from the effects of bodies upon one another, that all the changes\r\nand revolutions in the material world arise. Since these, therefore,\r\ndepend upon the specific essences of those bodies, it must be the\r\nbusiness of philosophy, that science which endeavours to connect\r\ntogether all the different changes that occur in the world, to\r\ndetermine wherein the Specific Essence of each object consists, in\r\norder to foresee what changes or revolutions may be expected from it.\r\nBut the Specific Essence of each individual object is not that which\r\nis peculiar to it as an individual, but that which is common to it,\r\nwith all other objects of the same kind. Thus the Specific Essence of\r\nthe Water, which now stands before me, does not consist in its being\r\nheated by the Fire, or cooled by the Air, in such a particular degree;\r\nin its being contained in a vessel of such a form, or of such\r\ndimensions. These are all accidental circumstances, which are\r\naltogether extraneous to its general nature, and upon which none of\r\nits effects as Water depend. Philosophy, therefore, in considering the\r\ngeneral nature of Water, takes no notice of those particularities\r\nwhich are peculiar to this water, but confines itself to those things\r\nwhich are common to all Water. If, in the progress of its inquiries,\r\nit should descend to consider the nature of Water that is modified by\r\nsuch particular accidents, it still would not confine its\r\nconsideration to this water contained in this vessel, and thus heated\r\nat this fire, but would extend its views to Water in general contained\r\nin such kind of vessels, and heated to such a degree at such a fire.\r\nIn every case, therefore, Species, or Universals, and not Individuals,\r\nare the objects of Philosophy. Because whatever effects are produced\r\nby individuals, whatever changes can flow from them, must all proceed\r\nfrom some universal nature that is contained in them. As it was the\r\nbusiness of Physics, or Natural Philosophy, to determine wherein\r\nconsisted the Nature and Essence of every particular Species of\r\nthings, in order to connect together all the different events that\r\noccur in the material world; so there were two other sciences, which,\r\nthough they had originally arisen out of that system of Natural\r\nPhilosophy I have just \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page397\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e397\u003c/span\u003e been describing, were, however,\r\napprehended to go before it, in the order in which the knowledge of\r\nNature ought to be communicated. The first of these, Metaphysics,\r\nconsidered the general nature of Universals, and the different sorts\r\nor species into which they might be divided. The second of these,\r\nLogics, was built upon this doctrine of Metaphysics; and from the\r\ngeneral nature of Universals, and of the sorts into which they were\r\ndivided, endeavoured to ascertain the general rules by which we might\r\ndistribute all particular objects into general classes, and determine\r\nto what class each individual object belonged; for in this, they\r\njustly enough apprehended, consisted the whole art of philosophical\r\nreasoning. As the first of these two sciences, Metaphysics, is\r\naltogether subordinate to the second, Logic, they seem, before the\r\ntime of Aristotle, to have been regarded as one, and to have made up\r\nbetween them that ancient Dialectic of which we hear so much, and of\r\nwhich we understand so little: neither does this separation seem to\r\nhave been much attended to, either by his own followers, the ancient\r\nPeripatetics, or by any other of the old sects of philosophers. The\r\nlater schoolmen, indeed, have distinguished between Ontology and\r\nLogic; but their Ontology contains but a small part of what is the\r\nsubject of the metaphysical books of Aristotle, the greater part of\r\nwhich, the doctrines of Universals, and everything that is preparatory\r\nto the arts of defining and dividing, has, since the days of Porphery,\r\nbeen inserted into their Logic.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eAccording to Plato and Timæus, the principles out of which the\r\nDeity formed the World, and which were themselves eternal, were three\r\nin number. The Subject-matter of things, the Species, or Specific\r\nEssences of things, and what was made out of these, the sensible\r\nobjects themselves. These last had no proper or durable existence, but\r\nwere in perpetual flux and succession. For as Heraclitus had said that\r\nno man ever passed the same river twice, because the water which he\r\nhad passed over once was gone before he could pass over it a second\r\ntime; so, in the same manner, no man ever saw, or heard, or touched\r\nthe same sensible object twice. When I look at the window, for\r\nexample, the visible species, which strikes my eyes this moment,\r\nthough resembling, is different from that which struck my eyes the\r\nimmediately preceding moment. When I ring the bell, the sound, or\r\naudible species, which I hear this moment, though resembling in the\r\nsame manner, is different, however, from that which I heard the moment\r\nbefore. When I lay my hand on the table, the tangible species which I\r\nfeel this moment, though resembling, in the same manner, is\r\nnumerically different too from that which I felt the moment before.\r\nOur sensations, therefore, never properly exist or endure one moment;\r\nbut, in the very instant of their generation, perish and are\r\nannihilated for ever. Nor are the causes of those sensations more\r\npermanent. No corporeal substance is ever exactly the \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page398\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e398\u003c/span\u003e same,\r\neither in whole or in any assignable part, during two successive,\r\nmoments, but by the perpetual addition of new parts, as well as loss\r\nof old ones, is in continual flux and succession. Things of so\r\nfleeting a nature can never be the objects of science, or of any\r\nsteady or permanent judgment. While we look at them, in order to\r\nconsider them, they are changed and gone, and annihilated for ever.\r\nThe objects of science, and of all the steady judgments of the\r\nunderstanding, must be permanent, unchangeable, always existent, and\r\nliable neither to generation nor corruption, nor alteration of any\r\nkind. Such are the species or specific essences of things. Man is\r\nperpetually changing every particle of his body; and every thought of\r\nhis mind is in continual flux and succession. But humanity, or human\r\nnature, is always existent, is always the same, is never generated,\r\nand is never corrupted. This, therefore, is the object of science,\r\nreason, and understanding, as man is the object of sense, and of those\r\ninconstant opinions which are founded upon sense. As the objects of\r\nsense were apprehended to have an external existence, independent of\r\nthe act of sensation, so these objects of the understanding were much\r\nmore supposed to have an external existence independent of the act of\r\nunderstanding. Those external essences were, according to Plato, the\r\nexemplars, according to which the Deity formed the world, and all the\r\nsensible objects that are in it. The Deity comprehended within his\r\ninfinite essence, all these species, or external exemplars, in the\r\nsame manner as he comprehended all sensible objects.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003ePlato, however, seems to have regarded the first of those as\r\nequally distinct with the second from what we would now call the Ideas\r\nor Thoughts of the Divine Mind,\u003ca href=\"#FootnoteE1\" id=\"FnAnchorE1\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003e\u003cspan class=\"sp\"\u003e1\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/a\u003e and even to have supposed, that\r\nthey had a particular place of existence, beyond the sphere of the\r\nvisible \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page399\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e399\u003c/span\u003e corporeal world; though this has been much controverted,\r\nboth by the later Platonists, and by some very judicious modern\r\ncritics, who have followed the interpretation of the later Platonists,\r\nas what did most \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page400\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e400\u003c/span\u003e honour to the judgment of that renowned\r\nphilosopher. All the objects in this world, continued he, are\r\nparticular and individual. Here, therefore, the human mind has no\r\nopportunity of seeing any Species, or Universal Nature. Whatever ideas\r\nit has, therefore, of such beings, for it plainly has them, it must\r\nderive from the memory of what it has seen, in some former period of\r\nits existence, when it had an opportunity of visiting the place or\r\nSphere of Universals. For some time after it is immersed in the body,\r\nduring its infancy, its childhood, and a great part of its youth, the\r\nviolence of those passions which it derives from the body, and which\r\nare all directed to the particular and individual objects of this\r\nworld, hinder it from turning its attention to those Universal\r\nNatures, with which it had been conversant in the world from whence it\r\ncame. The Ideas, of these, therefore, seem, in this first period of\r\nits existence here, to be overwhelmed in the confusion of those\r\nturbulent emotions, and to be almost entirely wiped out of its\r\nremembrance. During the continuance of this state, it is incapable of\r\nReasoning, Science and Philosophy, which are conversant about\r\nUniversals. Its whole attention is turned towards particular objects,\r\nconcerning which, being directed by no general notions, it forms many\r\nvain and false opinions, and is filled with error, perplexity, and\r\nconfusion. But, when age has abated the violence of its passions, and\r\ncomposed the confusion of its thoughts, it then becomes more capable\r\nof reflection, and of turning its attention to those almost forgotten\r\nideas of things with which it had been conversant in the former state\r\nof its existence. All the particular objects in this sensible world,\r\nbeing formed after the eternal exemplars in that intellectual world,\r\nawaken, upon account of their resemblance, insensibly, and by slow\r\ndegrees, the almost obliterated ideas of these last. The beauty, which\r\nis shared in different degrees among terrestrial objects, revives the\r\nsame idea of that Universal Nature of beauty which exists in the\r\nintellectual world: particular acts of justice, of the universal\r\nnature of justice; particular reasonings, and particular sciences, of\r\nthe universal nature of science and reasoning; particular roundnesses,\r\nof the universal nature of roundness; particular squares, of the\r\nuniversal nature of squareness. Thus science, which is conversant\r\nabout Universals, is derived from memory; and to instruct any person\r\nconcerning the general nature of any subject, is no more than to\r\nawaken in him the remembrance of what he formerly knew about it. This\r\nboth Plato and Socrates imagined they could still further confirm, by\r\nthe fallacious experiment, \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page401\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e401\u003c/span\u003e which showed, that a person might be\r\nled to discover himself, without any information, any general truth,\r\nof which he was before ignorant, merely by being asked a number of\r\nproperly arranged and connected questions concerning it.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"footnote\"\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"fn\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"FootnoteE1\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca href=\"#FnAnchorE1\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003e\u003csup\u003e1\u003c/sup\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e He calls them, indeed, Ideas, a word which, in him, in\r\nAristotle, and all the other writers of earlier antiquity, signifies a\r\nSpecies, and is perfectly synonymous with that other word \u003cspan class=\"transl\" title=\"Eidos\"\u003eΕιδος\u003c/span\u003e,\r\n more frequently made use of by Aristotle. As, by some of the\r\nlater sects of philosophers, particularly by the Stoics, all species,\r\nor specific essences, were regarded as mere creatures of the mind,\r\nformed by abstraction, which had no real existence external to the\r\nthoughts that conceived them, the word Idea came, by degrees, to its\r\npresent signification, to mean, first, an abstract thought or\r\nconception; and afterwards, a thought or conception of any kind; and\r\nthus became synonymous with that other Greek word, \u003cspan class=\"transl\" title=\"Ennoia\"\u003eΕννοια\u003c/span\u003e,\r\nfrom which it had originally a very different meaning. When the later\r\nPlatonists, who lived at a time when the notion of the separate\r\nexistence of specific essences was universally exploded, began to\r\ncomment upon the writings of Plato, and upon that strange fancy that,\r\nin his writings, there was a double doctrine; and that they were\r\nintended to seem to mean one thing, while at bottom they meant a very\r\ndifferent, which the writings of no man in his senses ever were, or\r\never could be intended to do; they represented his doctrine as meaning\r\nno more, than that the Deity formed the world after what we would now\r\ncall an Idea, or plan conceived in his own mind, in the same manner as\r\nany other artist. But, if Plato had meant to express no more than this\r\nmost natural and simple of all notions, he might surely have expressed\r\nit more plainly, and would hardly, one would think, have talked of it\r\nwith so much emphasis, as of something which it required the utmost\r\nreach of thought to comprehend. According to this representation,\r\nPlato’s notion of Species, or Universals, was the same with that of\r\nAristotle. Aristotle, however, does not seem to understand it as such;\r\nhe bestows a great part of his Metaphysics upon confuting it, and\r\nopposes it in all his other works; nor does he, in any one of them,\r\ngive the least hint, or insinuation, as if it could be suspected that,\r\nby the Ideas of Plato, was meant the thoughts or conceptions of the\r\nDivine Mind. Is it possible that he, who was twenty years in his\r\nschool, should, during all that time, have misunderstood him,\r\nespecially when his meaning was so very plain and obvious? Neither is\r\nthis notion of the separate existence of Species, distinct both from\r\nthe mind which conceives them, and from the sensible objects which are\r\nmade to resemble them, one of those doctrines which Plato would but\r\nseldom have occasion to talk of. However it may be interpreted, it is\r\nthe very basis of his philosophy; neither is there a single dialogue\r\nin all his works which does not refer to it. Shall we suppose, that\r\nthat great philosopher, who appears to have been so much superior to\r\nhis master in every thing but eloquence, wilfully, and upon all\r\noccasions, misrepresented, not one of the deep and mysterious\r\ndoctrines of the philosophy of Plato, but the first and most\r\nfundamental principle of all his reasonings; when the writings of\r\nPlato were in the hands of every body; when his followers and\r\ndisciples were spread all over Greece; when almost every Athenian of\r\ndistinction, that was nearly of the same age with Aristotle, must have\r\nbeen bred in his school; when Speusippus, the nephew and successor of\r\nPlato, as well as Xenocrates, who continued the school in the Academy,\r\nat the same time that Aristotle held his in the Lyceum, must have been\r\nready, at all times, to expose and affront him for such gross\r\ndisingenuity. Does not Cicero, does not Seneca understand this\r\ndoctrine in the same manner as Aristotle has represented it? Is there\r\nany author in all antiquity who seems to understand it otherwise,\r\nearlier than Plutarch, an author who seems to have been as bad a\r\ncritic in philosophy as in history, and to have taken every thing at\r\nsecond-hand in both, and who lived after the origin of that eclectic\r\nphilosophy, from whence the later Platonists arose, and who seems\r\nhimself to have been one of that sect? Is there any one passage in any\r\nGreek author, near the time of Aristotle and Plato, in which the word\r\nIdea is used in its present meaning, to signify a thought or\r\nconception? Are not the words, which in all languages express reality\r\nor existence, directly opposed to those which express thought, or\r\nconception only? Or, is there any other difference betwixt a thing\r\nthat exists, and a thing that does not exist, except this, that the\r\none is a mere conception, and that the other is something more than a\r\nconception? With what propriety, therefore, could Plato talk of those\r\neternal species, as of the only things which had any real existence,\r\nif they were no more than the conceptions of the Divine Mind? Had not\r\nthe Deity, according to Plato, as well as according to the Stoics,\r\nfrom all eternity, the idea of every individual, as well as of every\r\nspecies, and of the state in which every individual was to be, in each\r\ndifferent instance of its existence? Were not all the divine ideas,\r\ntherefore, of each individual, or of all the different states, which\r\neach individual was to be in during the course of its existence,\r\nequally eternal and unalterable with those of the species? With what\r\nsense, therefore, could Plato say, that the first were eternal,\r\nbecause the Deity had conceived them from all eternity, since he had\r\nconceived the others from all eternity too, and since his ideas of the\r\nSpecies could, in this respect, have no advantage of those of the\r\nindividual? Does not Plato, in many different places, talk of the\r\nIdeas of Species or Universals as innate, and having been impressed\r\nupon the mind in its state of pre-existence, when it had an\r\nopportunity of viewing these Species as they are in themselves, and\r\nnot as they are expressed in their copies, or representatives upon\r\nearth? But if the only place of the existence of those Species was the\r\nDivine Mind, will not this suppose, that Plato either imagined, like\r\nFather Malbranche, that in its state of pre-existence, the mind saw\r\nall things in God: or that it was itself an emanation of the Divinity?\r\nThat he maintained the first opinion, will not be pretended by any\r\nbody who is at all versed in the history of science. That enthusiastic\r\nnotion, though it may seem to be favoured by some passages in the\r\nFathers, was never, it is well known, coolly and literally maintained\r\nby any body before that Cartesian philosopher. That the human mind was\r\nitself an emanation of the Divine, though it was the doctrine of the\r\nStoics, was by no means that of Plato; though, upon the notion of a\r\npretended double doctrine, the contrary has lately been asserted.\r\nAccording to Plato, the Deity formed the soul of the world out of that\r\nsubstance which is always the same, that is, out of Species or\r\nUniversals; out of that which is always different, that is, out of\r\ncorporeal substances; and out of a substance that was of a middle\r\nnature between these, which it is not easy to understand what he meant\r\nby. Out of a part of the same composition, he made those inferior\r\nintelligences who animated the celestial spheres, to whom he delivered\r\nthe remaining part of it, to form from thence the souls of men and\r\nanimals. The souls of those inferior deities, though made out of a\r\nsimilar substance or composition, were not regarded as parts or\r\nemanations of that of the world; nor were those of animals, in the\r\nsame manner, regarded as parts or emanations of those inferior\r\ndeities: much less were any of them regarded as parts, or emanations\r\nof the great Author of all things.\u003c/p\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe more the soul was accustomed to the consideration of those\r\nUniversal Natures, the less it was attached to any particular and\r\nindividual objects; it approached the nearer to the original\r\nperfection of its nature, from which, according to this philosophy, it\r\nhad fallen. Philosophy, which accustoms it to consider the general\r\nEssence of things only, and to abstract from all their particular and\r\nsensible circumstances, was, upon this account, regarded as the great\r\npurifier of the soul. As death separated the soul from the body, and\r\nfrom the bodily senses and passions, it restored it to that\r\nintellectual world, from whence it had originally descended, where no\r\nsensible Species called off its attention from those general Essences\r\nof things. Philosophy, in this life, habituating it to the same\r\nconsiderations, brings it, in some degree, to that state of happiness\r\nand perfection, to which death restores the souls of just men in a\r\nlife to come.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eSuch was the doctrine of Plato concerning the Species or Specific\r\nEssence of things. This, at least, is what his words seem to import,\r\nand thus he is understood by Aristotle, the most intelligent and the\r\nmost renowned of all his disciples. It is a doctrine, which, like many\r\nof the other doctrines of abstract Philosophy, is more coherent in the\r\nexpression than in the idea; and which seems to have arisen, more from\r\nthe nature of language, than from the nature of things. With all its\r\nimperfections it was excusable, in the beginnings of philosophy, and\r\nis not a great deal more remote from the truth, than many others which\r\nhave since been substituted in its room by some of the greatest\r\npretenders to accuracy and precision. Mankind have had, at all times,\r\na strong propensity to realize their own abstractions, of which we\r\nshall immediately see an example, in the notions of that very\r\nphilosopher who first exposed the ill-grounded foundation of those\r\nIdeas, or Universals, of Plato and Timæus. To explain the nature, and\r\nto account for the origin of general Ideas, is, even at this day, the\r\ngreatest difficulty in abstract philosophy. How the human mind, when\r\nit reasons concerning the general nature of triangles, should either\r\nconceive, as Mr. Locke imagines it does, the idea of a triangle, which\r\nis neither obtusangular, nor rectangular, nor acutangular; but which\r\nwas at once both none and of all those together; or should, as\r\nMalbranche thinks necessary for this purpose, comprehend at once,\r\nwithin its finite capacity, all possible triangles of all possible\r\nforms and dimensions, which are infinite in number, is a question, to\r\nwhich it is surely not easy to give a satisfactory answer. Malbranche,\r\nto solve it, had recourse to the enthusiastic and unintelligible\r\nnotion of the intimate union of the human mind with the divine, in\r\nwhose infinite \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page402\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e402\u003c/span\u003e essence the immensity of such species could alone\r\nbe comprehended; and in which alone, therefore, all finite\r\nintelligences could have an opportunity of viewing them. If, after\r\nmore than two thousand years reasoning about this subject, this\r\ningenious and sublime philosopher was forced to have recourse to so\r\nstrange a fancy, in order to explain it, can we wonder that Plato, in\r\nthe very first dawnings of science, should, for the same purpose,\r\nadopt an hypothesis, which has been thought, without much reason,\r\nindeed, to have some affinity to that of Malbranche, and which is not\r\nmore out of the way?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWhat seems to have misled those early philosophers, was, the\r\nnotion, which appears, at first, natural enough, that those things,\r\nout of which any object is composed, must exist antecedent to that\r\nobject. But the things out of which all particular objects seem to be\r\ncomposed, are the stuff or matter of those objects, and the form or\r\nspecific Essence, which determines them to be of this or that class of\r\nthings. These, therefore, it was thought, must have existed antecedent\r\nto the object which was made up between them. Plato, who held, that\r\nthe sensible world, which, according to him, is the world of\r\nindividuals, was made in time, necessarily conceived, that both the\r\nuniversal matter, the object of spurious reason, and the specific\r\nessence, the object of proper reason and philosophy out of which it\r\nwas composed, must have had a separate existence from all eternity.\r\nThis intellectual world, very different from the intellectual world of\r\nCudworth, though much of the language of the one has been borrowed\r\nfrom that of the other, was necessarily and always existent; whereas\r\nthe sensible world owed its origin to the free will and bounty of its\r\nauthor.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eA notion of this kind, as long as it is expressed in very general\r\nlanguage; as long as it is not much rested upon, nor attempted to be\r\nvery particularly and distinctly explained, passes easily enough,\r\nthrough the indolent imagination, accustomed to substitute words in\r\nthe room of ideas; and if the words seem to hang easily together,\r\nrequiring no great precision in the ideas. It vanishes, indeed; is\r\ndiscovered to be altogether incomprehensible, and eludes the grasp of\r\nthe imagination, upon an attentive consideration. It requires,\r\nhowever, an attentive consideration; and if it had been as fortunate\r\nas many other opinions of the same kind, and about the same subject,\r\nit might, without examination, have continued to be the current\r\nphilosophy for a century or two. Aristotle, however, seems immediately\r\nto have discovered, that it was impossible to conceive, as actually\r\nexistent, either that general matter, which was not determined by any\r\nparticular species, or those species which were not embodied, if one\r\nmay say so, in some particular portion of matter. Aristotle, too,\r\nheld, as we have already observed the eternity of the sensible world.\r\nThough he held, therefore, that all sensible objects were made up of\r\ntwo principles, both of which, he calls, equally, substances, the\r\nmatter and the specific essence, he was \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page403\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e403\u003c/span\u003e not obliged to hold,\r\nlike Plato, that those principles existed prior in the order of time\r\nto the objects which they afterwards composed. They were prior, he\r\nsaid, in nature, but not in time, according to a distinction which was\r\nof use to him upon some other occasion. He distinguished, too, betwixt\r\nactual and potential existence. By the first, he seems to have\r\nunderstood what is commonly meant by existence or reality; by the\r\nsecond, the bare possibility of existence. His meaning, I say, seems\r\nto amount to this; though he does not explain it precisely in this\r\nmanner. Neither the material Essence of body could, according to him,\r\nexist actually without being determined by some Specific Essence, to\r\nsome particular class of things, nor any Specific Essence without\r\nbeing embodied in some particular portion of matter. Each of these two\r\nprinciples, however, could exist potentially in this separate state.\r\nThat matter existed potentially, which, being endowed with a\r\nparticular form, could be brought into actual existence; and that\r\nform, which, by being embodied in a particular portion of matter,\r\ncould, in the same manner, be called forth into the class of complete\r\nrealities. This potential existence of matter and form, he sometimes\r\ntalks of, in expressions which resemble those of Plato, to whose\r\nnotion of separate Essence it bears a very great affinity.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eAristotle, who seems in many things original, and who endeavoured\r\nto seem to be so in all things, added the principle of privation to\r\nthose of matter and form, which he had derived from the ancient\r\nPythagorean school. When Water is changed into Air, the transmutation\r\nis brought about by the material principle of those two elements being\r\ndeprived of the form of Water, and then assuming the form of Air.\r\nPrivation, therefore, was a third principle opposite to form, which\r\nentered into the generation of every Species, which was always from\r\nsome other Species. It was a principle of generation, but not of\r\ncomposition, as is most obvious.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe Stoics, whose opinions were, in all the different parts of\r\nphilosophy, either the same with, or very nearly allied to those of\r\nAristotle and Plato, though often disguised in very different\r\nlanguage, held, that all things, even the elements themselves, were\r\ncompounded of two principles, upon one of which depended all the\r\nactive, and upon the other all the passive, powers of these bodies.\r\nThe last of these, they called Matter; the first, the Cause, by which\r\nthey meant the very same thing which Aristotle and Plato understood,\r\nby their specific Essences. Matter, according to the Stoics, could\r\nhave no existence separate from the cause or efficient principle which\r\ndetermined it to some particular class of things. Neither could the\r\nefficient principle exist separately from the material, in which it\r\nwas always necessarily embodied. Their opinion, therefore, so far\r\ncoincided with that of the old Peripatetics. The efficient principle,\r\nthey said, was the Deity. By which they meant, that it was a detached\r\nportion of the etherial and divine nature, \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"page404\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e404\u003c/span\u003e which penetrated all\r\nthings, that constituted what Plato would have called the Specific\r\nEssence of each individual object; and so far their opinion coincides\r\npretty nearly with that of the latter Platonists, who held, that the\r\nSpecific Essences of all things were detached portions of their\r\ncreated deity, the soul of the world; and with that of some of the\r\nArabian and Scholastic Commentators of Aristotle, who held that the\r\nsubstantial forms of all things descended from those Divine Essences\r\nwhich animated the Celestial Spheres. Such was the doctrine of the\r\nfour principal Sects of the ancient Philosophers, concerning the\r\nSpecific Essences of things, of the old Pythagoreans, of the\r\nAcademical, the Peripatetic, and the Stoical Sects.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eAs this doctrine of Specific Essences seems naturally enough to\r\nhave arisen from that ancient system of Physics, which I have above\r\ndescribed, and which is, by no means, devoid of probability, so many\r\nof the doctrines of that system, which seems to us, who have been long\r\naccustomed to another, the most incomprehensible, necessarily flow\r\nfrom this metaphysical notion. Such are those of generation,\r\ncorruption, and alteration; of mixture, condensation, and rarefaction.\r\nA body was generated or corrupted, when it changed its Specific\r\nEssence, and passed from one denomination to another. It was altered\r\nwhen it changed only some of its qualities, but still retained the\r\nsame Specific Essence, and the same denomination. Thus, when a flower\r\nwas withered, it was not corrupted; though some of its qualities were\r\nchanged, it still retained the Specific Essence, and therefore justly\r\npassed under the denomination of a flower. But, when, in the further\r\nprogress of its decay, it crumbled into earth, it was corrupted; it\r\nlost the Specific Essence, or substantial form of the flower, and\r\nassumed that of the earth, and therefore justly changed its\r\ndenomination.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe Specific Essence, or universal nature that was lodged in each\r\nparticular class of bodies, was not itself the object of any of our\r\nsenses, but could be perceived only by the understanding. It was by\r\nthe sensible qualities, however, that we judged of the Specific\r\nEssence of each object. Some of these sensible qualities, therefore,\r\nwe regarded as essential, or such as showed, by their presence or\r\nabsence, the presence or absence of that essential form from which\r\nthey necessarily flowed. Others were accidental, or such whose\r\npresence or absence had no such necessary consequences. The first of\r\nthese two sorts of qualities was called Properties; the second,\r\nAccidents.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIn the Specific Essence of each object itself, they distinguished\r\ntwo parts; one of which was peculiar and characteristical of the one\r\nclass of things of which that particular object was an individual, the\r\nother was common to it with some other higher classes of things. These\r\ntwo parts were, to the Specific Essence, pretty much what the Matter\r\nand the Specific Essence were to each individual body. The one, which\r\nwas called the Genus, was modified and determined by the other, \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e405\u003c/span\u003e\r\nwhich was called the Specific Difference, pretty much in the same\r\nmanner as the universal matter contained in each body was modified and\r\ndetermined by the Specific Essence of that particular class of bodies.\r\nThese four, with the Specific Essence or Species itself, made up the\r\nnumber of the Five Universals, so well known in the schools by the\r\nnames of Genus, Species, Differentia, Proprium, and Accidens.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp class=\"center\"\u003e* * * * * * * *\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003chr class=\"thirty\"\u003e\r\n\u003c/article\u003e"}],"SectionSequence":["Back Link","Work Title","Deck","Author","Period","Era","Composition","Region","Terra Avita","Terra Avita Region","Modern Country","Original Title","Language","Primary Discipline","Secondary Discipline","Tradition","Full Versions","Core Thesis","Classification","Arguments","Influence","Significance","Full Text"],"Counts":{"ContextCards":3,"GeoCards":4,"DisciplineCards":2,"Links":11,"Sections":23,"Styles":3,"Scripts":1}}