Of the Origin of Ideas
David Hume
[Reprinted from A Treatise on Human Nature,
1739-40]
Every one will readily allow, that there is a considerable
difference between the perceptions of the mind, when a man feels the
pain of excessive heat, or the pleasure of moderate warmth, and when
he afterwards recalls to his memory this sensation, or anticipates
it by his imagination. These faculties may mimic or copy the
perceptions of the senses; but they never can entirely reach the
force and vivacity of the original sentiment. The utmost we say of
them, even when they operate with greatest vigor, is, that they
represent their object in so lively a manner, that we could almost
say we feel or see it: But, except the mind be disordered by disease
or madness, they never can arrive at such a pitch of vivacity, as to
render these perceptions altogether undistinguishable. All the
colors of poetry, however splendid, can never paint natural objects
in such a manner as to make the description be taken for a real
landskip. The most lively thought is still inferior to the dullest
sensation.
We may observe a like distinction to run through all the other
perceptions of the mind. A man in a fit of anger, is actuated in a
very different manner from one who only thinks of that emotion. If
you tell me, that any person is in love, I easily understand your
meaning, and from a just conception of his situation; but never can
mistake that conception for the real disorders and agitations of the
passion. When we reflect on our past sentiments and affections, our
thought is a faithful mirror, and copies its objects truly; but the
colors which it employs are faint and dull, in comparison of those
in which our original perceptions were clothed. It requires no nice
discernment or metaphysical head to mark the distinction between
them.
Here therefore we may divide all the perceptions of the mind into
two classes or species, which are distinguished by their different
degrees of force and vivacity. The less forcible and lively are
commonly denominated Thoughts or Ideas. The other species want a
name in our language, and in most others; I suppose, because it was
not requisite for any, but philosophical purposes, to rank them
under a general term or appellation. Let us, therefore, use a little
freedom, and call them Impressions; employing that word in a sense
somewhat different from the usual. By the term impression, then, I
mean all our more lively perceptions, when we hear, or see, or feel,
or love, or hate, or desire, or will. And impressions are
distinguished from ideas, which are the less lively perceptions, of
which we are conscious, when we reflect on any of those sensations
or movements above mentioned.
Nothing, at first view, may seem more unbounded than the thought
of man, which not only escapes all human power and authority, but is
not even restrained within the limits of nature and reality. To form
monsters, and join incongruous shapes and appearances, costs the
imagination no more trouble than to conceive the most natural and
familiar objects. And while the body is confined to one planet,
along which it creeps with pain and difficulty; the thought can in
an instant transport us into the most distant regions of the
universe; or even beyond the universe, into the unbounded chaos,
where nature is supposed to lie in total confusion. What never was
seen, or heard of, may yet be conceived; nor is any thing beyond the
power of thought, except what implies an absolute contradiction.
But though our thought seems to possess this unbounded liberty,
we shall find, upon a nearer examination, that it is really confined
within very narrow limits, and that all this creative power of the
mind amounts to no more than the faculty of compounding,
transposing, augmenting, or diminishing the materials afforded us by
the senses and experience. When we think of a golden mountain, we
only join two consistent ideas, gold, and mountain, with which we
were formerly acquainted. A virtuous horse we can conceive because,
from our own feeling, we can conceive virtue; and this we may unite
to the figure and shape of a horse, which is an animal familiar to
us. In short, all the materials of thinking are derived either from
our outward or inward sentiment: the mixture and composition of
these belongs alone to the mind and will. Or, to express myself in
philosophical language, all our ideas or more feeble perceptions are
copies of our impressions or more lively ones.
To prove this, the two following arguments will, I hope, be
sufficient. First, when we analyze our thoughts or ideas, however
compounded or sublime, we always find that they resolve themselves
into such simple ideas as were copied from a precedent feeling or
sentiment. Even those ideas, which, at first view, seem the most
wide of this origin, are found, upon a nearer scrutiny, to be
derived from it. The idea of God, as meaning an infinitely
intelligent, wise, and good Being, arises from reflecting on the
operations of our own mind, and augmenting, without limit, those
qualities of goodness and wisdom. We may prosecute this enquiry to
what length we please; where we shall always find, that every idea
which we examine is copied from a similar impression. Those who.
would assert that this position is not universally true nor without
exception, have only one, and that an easy method of refuting it; by
producing that idea, which, in their opinion, is not derived from
this source. It will then be incumbent on us, if we would maintain
our doctrine, to produce the impression, or lively perception, which
corresponds to it.
Secondly. If it happen, from a defect of the organ, that a man is
not susceptible of any species of sensation, we always find that he
is as little susceptible of the correspondent ideas. A blind man can
form no notion of colors; a deaf man of sounds. Restore either of
them that sense in which he is deficient; by opening this new inlet
for his sensations, you also open an inlet for the ideas; and he
finds no difficulty in conceiving these objects. The case is the
same, if the object, proper for exciting any sensation, has never
been applied to the organ. A Laplander or Negro has no notion of the
relish of wine. And though there are few or no instances of a like
deficiency in the mind, where a person has never felt or is wholly
incapable of a sentiment or passion that belongs to his species; yet
we find the same observation to take place in a less degree. A man
of mild manners can form no idea of inveterate revenge or cruelty;
nor can a selfish heart easily conceive the heights of friendship
and generosity. It is readily allowed, that other beings may possess
many senses of which we can have no conception; because the ideas of
them have never been introduced to us in the only manner by which an
idea can have access to the mind, to wit, by the actual feeling and
sensation.
There is, however, one contradictory phenomenon, which may prove
that it is not absolutely impossible for ideas to arise, independent
of their correspondent impressions. I believe it will readily be
allowed, that the several distinct ideas of color, which enter by
the eye, or those of sound, which are conveyed by the ear, are
really different from each other; though, at the same time,
resembling. Now if this be true of different colors, it must be no
less so of the different shades of the same color; and each shade
produces a distinct idea, independent of the rest. For if this
should be denied, it is possible, by the continual gradation of
shades, to run a color insensibly into what is most remote from it;
and if you will not allow any of the means to be different, you
cannot, without absurdity, deny the extremes to be the same.
Suppose, therefore, a person to have enjoyed his sight for thirty
years, and to have become perfectly acquainted with colors of all
kinds except one particular shade of blue, for instance, which it
never has been his fortune to meet with. Let all the different
shades of that color, except that single one, be placed before him,
descending gradually from the deepest to the lightest; it is plain
that he will perceive a blank, where that shade is wanting, and will
be sensible that there is a greater distance in that place between
the contiguous color than in any other. Now I ask, whether it be
possible for him, from his own imagination, to supply this
deficiency, and raise up to himself the idea of that particular
shade, though it had never been conveyed to him by his senses? I
believe there are few but will be of opinion that he can: and this
may serve as a proof that the simple ideas are not always, in every
instance, derived from the correspondent impressions; though this
instance is so singular, that it is scarcely worth our observing,
and does not merit that for it alone we should alter our general
maxim.
Here, therefore, is a proposition, which not only seems, in
itself, simple and intelligible; but, if a proper use were made of
it, might render every dispute equally intelligible, and banish all
that jargon, which has so long taken possession of metaphysical
reasonings, and drawn disgrace upon them. All ideas, especially
abstract ones, are naturally faint and obscure: the mind has but a
slender hold of them: they are apt to be confounded with other
resembling ideas; and when we have often employed any term, though
without a distinct meaning, we are apt to imagine it has a
determinate idea annexed to it. On the contrary, all impressions,
that is, all sensations, either outward or inward, are strong and
vivid: the limits between them are more exactly determined: nor is
it easy to fall into any error or mistake with regard to them. When
we entertain, therefore, any suspicion that a philosophical term is
employed without any meaning or idea (as is but too frequent), we
need but enquire, from what impression is that supposed idea
derived? And if it be impossible to assign any, this will serve to
confirm our suspicion. By bringing ideas into so clear a light we
may reasonably hope to remove all dispute, which may arise,
concerning their nature and reality.
It is probable that no more was meant by those, who denied innate
ideas, than that all ideas were copies of our impressions; though it
must be confessed, that the terms, which they employed, were not
chosen with such caution, nor so exactly defined, as to prevent all
mistakes about their doctrine. For what is meant by innate? If
innate be equivalent to natural, then all the perceptions and ideas
of the mind must be allowed to be innate or natural, in whatever
sense we take the latter word, whether in opposition to what is
uncommon, artificial, or miraculous. If by innate be meant,
contemporary to our birth, the dispute seems to be frivolous; nor is
it worth while to enquire at what time thinking begins, whether
before, at, or after our birth. Again, the word idea, seems to be
commonly taken in a very loose sense, by Locke and others; as
standing for any of our perceptions, our sensations and passions, as
well as thoughts. Now in this sense, I should desire to know, what
can be meant by asserting, that self-love, or resentment of
injuries, or the passion between the sexes is not innate?
But admitting these terms, impressions and ideas, in the sense
above explained, and understanding by innate, what is original or
copied from no precedent perception, then may we assert that all our
impressions are innate, and our ideas not innate.
To be ingenuous, I must own it to be my opinion, that Locke was
betrayed into this question by the schoolmen, who, making use of
undefined terms, draw out their disputes to a tedious length,
without ever touching the point in question. A like ambiguity and
circumlocution seem to run through that philosopher's reasonings on
this as well as most other subjects.