MISCELLANEOUS LETTERS OF JOHN LOCKE

Abstract

A collection of correspondence (with Molyneux, Limborch, and others) discussing the ‘Essay concerning Human Understanding’, questions of knowledge and perception, and friendship in the disinterested pursuit of truth.

Testo originale inglese · Delphi Classics, 2000 · pubblico dominio

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

MR. SYNGE TO DR. QUAYL.

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

REFLEXIONS DE MR. L —— — SUR “L’ÉSSAI DE L’ENTENDEMENT HUMAIN” DE MONSIEUR LOCKE.

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

BISHOP OF —— — ‘S LETTER TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

MR. MOLYNEUX’S ANSWER TO THE BISHOP.

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

MR. LOCKE TO MR. BURRIDGE.

DR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

MR. LOCKE TO DR. MOLYNEUX.

DR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

MR. LOCKE TO DR. MOLYNEUX.

DR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

MR. LOCKE TO DR. MOLYNEUX.

DR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

MR. LOCKE TO DR. MOLYNEUX.

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH S. P. D.

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

JOANNI LOCKE, PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

LETTRE DE MR. LOCKE À MR. LIMBORCH.

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

LETTRE DE MR. LOCKE À MR. LIMBORCH.

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

LETTRE DE MR. LOCKE À MR. LIMBORCH.

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH, JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

A COLLECTION OF SEVERAL PIECES OF MR. JOHN LOCKE.

TO HUGH WROTTESLEY, ESQUIRE.

A TABLE OF THE PIECES CONTAINED IN THIS COLLECTION.

THE CHARACTER OF MR. LOCKE; BY MR. PETER COSTE:

A LETTER TO MR. .

A LETTER FROM A PERSON OF QUALITY TO HIS FRIEND IN THE COUNTRY

REMARKS UPON SOME OF MR. NORRIS’S BOOKS,

SEVERAL LETTERS TO ANHT. COLLINS, ESQ. AND OTHER PERSONS.

A LETTER FROM MR. LOCKE TO MR. OLDENBURGH, CONCERNING A POISONOUS FISH ABOUT THE BAHAMA ISLANDS.

A LETTER TO ANTHONY COLLINS, ESQ.

TO THE SAME.

A LETTER TO THE LADY CALVERLEY IN YORKSHIRE.

A LETTER TO ANTHONY COLLINS, ESQ.

TO THE SAME.

TO THE SAME. [DIRECTED THUS:]

A LETTER TO THE REVEREND MR. RICHARD KING.

A LETTER TO

A LETTER TO THE REVEREND MR. RICHARD KING.

TO THE SAME.

RULES OF A SOCIETY.

A LETTER TO MRS. COCKBURN.

A LETTER FROM MR. LOCKE TO MR. SAMUEL BOLD.

LORD ASHLEY TO DR. FELL.

John Locke by John Greenhill, 1672

WRIT BY THE E. OF SHAFTESBURY WHILST PRISONER IN THE TOWER: ONE TO K. CHARLES II, ANOTHER TO THE D. OF YORK, A THIRD TO A NOBLE LORD: FOUND WITH MR. LOCKE’S MEMOIRS RELATING TO THE LIFE OF ANTHONY, FIRST EARL OF SHAFTESBURY.

SIR,

The Almighty God, the King of kings, permitted Job to dispute with him, and to order his cause before him; give me leave therefore, great sir, to lay my case before your majesty, and to plead not only my innocence but my merits towards your majesty; for “my integrity will I hold fast, and will not let it go; my heart shall not reproach me so long as I live.”

I had the honour to have a principal hand in your restoration; neither did I act in it, but on a principle of piety and honour: I never betrayed (as your majesty knows) the party or councils I was of. I kept no correspondence with, nor I made no secret addresses to your majesty; neither did I endeavour to obtain any private terms or articles for myself, or reward for what I had or should do. In whatever I did toward the service of your majesty, I was solely acted by the sense of that duty I owed to God, the English nation, and your majesty’s just right and title. I saw the hand of Providence that had led us through various forms of government, and had given power into the hands of several sorts of men, but he had given none of them a heart to use it as they should; they all fell to the prey, sought not the good or settlement of the nation, endeavoured only the enlargement and continuance of their own authority, and grasped at those very powers they had complained of so much, and for which so bloody and so fatal a war had been raised and continued in the bowels of the nation. I observed the leaders of the great parties of religion, both laity and clergy, ready and forward to deliver up the rights and liberties of the people, and to introduce an absolute dominion; so that tyranny might be established in the hands of those that favoured their way, and with whom they might have hopes to divide the present spoil, having no eye to posterity, or thought of future things. One of the last scenes of this confusion was general Lambert’s seizing of the government in a morning by force of arms, turning out the parliament and their council of state, and in their room erecting a committee of safety. The news of this gives a great surprize to general Monk, who commanded the army in Scotland.

SIR,

I HUMBLY confess I never thought my person or my principles acceptable to your royal highness; but at that juncture of time and occasion when I was committed, I had no reason to expect you should be my severe enemy. Reputation is the greatest concern of great dealers in the world; great princes are the greatest dealers; no reputation more their interest than to be thought merciful, relievers of the distressed, and maintainers of the ancient laws and rights of their country. This I ever wish may attend your royal highness, and that I may be one instance of it.

My Lord,

I HAD prepared this for your meeting in December; but that being adjourned to the 3d of April, an age to an old infirm man, especially shut up in a winter’s prison; forgive me if I say you owe yourself and your posterity, as well as me, the endeavouring to remove so severe a precedent on one of your members; such as I may truly say is the first of the kind, and I pray heartily may be the last. Your intercession to his majesty, if it be general, is not like to be refused; if you are single, yet you have done honourably, and what I should have done for you.

SOME FAMILIAR LETTERS BETWEEN MR. LOCKE, AND SEVERAL OF HIS FRIENDS.

The following letters, offered to your perusal, are the genuine productions of those gentlemen, to whom they are attributed.

They contain not only such civil and polite conversation, as friendship produces among men of parts, learning, and candour; but several matters relating to literature, and more particularly to Mr. Locke’s notions, in his “Essay concerning human understanding,” and in some of his other works: and therefore I cannot doubt of your thanks for the present I make you. For, though the curiosity of some, to see whatever drops from the pens of great men, and to inform themselves in their private characters, their tempers, dispositions, and manner of conversing with their friends, would perhaps have justified me, in publishing any letters of Mr. Locke’s, and of his friends to him, that were not letters of mere business; yet my regard to what I take to be the more general judgment of the public, has determined me to publish such only, as have relation to this twofold view, and shall determine me hereafter, if gentlemen, that have any letters of Mr. Locke’s by them, think fit to communicate them to me.

John Locke

July 16, 1692

London

Molyneux

SIR,

London,

July 16, 1692.

THOUGH the extraordinary compliment you were pleased to make me, in the epistle dedicatory, easily persuaded me, from whom that present was likely to come; when, at my coming to town, I found your book left for me, by Mr. Tooke, at my bookseller’s; yet my consciousness, how little I could deserve the one, or the other, from you, made me fear some mistake, till inquiring of Mr. Tooke himself, he assured me of the favour you had done me. I will not pretend to return you such thanks as I ought, till I can write such a book as yours is. Only give me leave to say, that if my trifle could possibly be an occasion of vanity to me, you have done most to make it so, since I could scarce forbear to applaud myself, upon such a testimony from one who so well understands demonstration, did I not see that those who can be extreme rigorous and exact in the search of truth, can be as civil and as complaisant in their dealing with those whom they take to be lovers of it. But this cannot keep me from being out of countenance at the receipt of such obligations, without the hopes of making such returns as I ought. Instead of that, give me leave to do what is next to it, and let you see that I am not sorry I am obliged to you. The bearer hereof, Dr. Sibelius, is a friend of mine, who comes to Dublin with a design to settle there, and I beg your assistance of him, in what lies in your way. I shall take it as a favour done to me. And methinks I have reason now to expect it of you, since you have done me more than once, very great ones, when I had no reason to expect any at all. Sir, you have made great advances of friendships towards me, and you see they are not lost upon me. I am very sensible of them, and would make such an use of them as might assure you I should take it for a new favour, if you would afford me an occasion wherein I might, by any service, tell you how much I am,

SIR,

Your most humble, and most obliged servant,

John Locke.

I had the honour to know one of your name at Leyden about seven or eight years since. If he be any relation of yours and now in Dublin, I beg the favour of you to present my humble service to him.

Will. Molyneux

Locke

Sir,

UPON the arrival of our lord lieutenant in this place (which was on the 25th instant) I had the favour of a letter from you by the hands of Dr. Sibelius. I cannot easily tell you how grateful it was to me, having the highest esteem for him that sent it, from the first moment that I was so happy as to see any of his writings; and therefore it was, that I was so ambitious of making a friendship with you, by presenting you one of my trifles, which I ordered my bookseller to lay before you, under this character, “as a mean testimony of the great respect I had for the author of the Essay of Human Understanding.” And since I find, by yours to me, that my ambition is not fallen short of its design; but that you are pleased to encourage me, by assuring me that I have made great advances of friendship towards you; give me leave to embrace the favour with all joy imaginable. And that you may judge of sincerity by my open heart, I will plainly confess to you, that I have not in my life read any book with more satisfaction than your essay; insomuch, that a repeated perusal of it is still more pleasant to me.

And I have endeavoured, with great success, to recommend it to the consideration of the ingenious, in this place. Dr. King, bishop of Derry, when he read it, made some slight remarks on the foremost parts of the book; but his business would not permit him to go through it all. What he did, rough as it was, he gave to me, and they are at your commands, when you please.

One thing I must needs insist on to you, which is, that you would think of obliging the world with “A Treatise of Morals,” drawn up according to the hints you frequently give in your essay, of being demonstrable according to the mathematical method. This is most certainly true. But then the task must be undertaken, only by so clear and distinct a thinker as you are. This were an attempt worthy your consideration. And there is nothing I should more ardently wish for than to see it. And therefore, good sir, let me beg of you to turn your thoughts this way; and if so young a friendship as mine have any force, let me prevail upon you.

Upon my reading your essay, I was so taken with it, that when I was in London, in August 1690, I made inquiry amongst some of my learned friends for any other of your writings, if perhaps they knew any: I was recommended, by some, to “Two Discourses concerning Government,” and a little “Treatise concerning Toleration.” There is neither of them carries your name; and I will not venture to ask you, whether they are yours or not? This only I think, no name need be ashamed of either.

Dr. Sibelius, I find, is your friend, and therefore I assure him of all service I can possibly do him. I will make it my business to get him acquaintance in this place; and I dare promise him some of the best.

The inclosed from my brother will tell you that he was your acquaintance in Leyden. I myself have been there, anno 1685, but had not the good fortune of being known to you. But from this time I shall reckon myself happy in your friendship, and shall ever subscribe myself,

Your most affectionate, and most obliged

humble servant,

Will. Molyneux.

John Locke

Sept. 20, 1692

London

Molyneux

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

Sir,

London,

Sept. 20, 1692.

THERE being nothing, that I think of so much value, as the acquaintance and friendship of knowing and worthy men, you may easily guess how much I find myself obliged, I will not say by the offer, but by the gift you have made me, of yours. That which confirms me in the assurance of it, is the little pretence I have to it. For, knowing myself, as I do, I cannot think so vainly of myself, as to imagine that you should make such overtures and expressions of kindness to me, for any other end, but merely as the pledges and exercise of it. I return you therefore my thanks, as for the greatest and most acceptable present you could have made me; and desire you to believe, that since I cannot hope that the returns, which I made you of mine, should be of any great use to you, I shall endeavour to make it up, as well as I can, with an high esteem, and perfect sincerity. You must, therefore, expect to have me live with you hereafter, with all the liberty and assurance of a settled friendship. For meeting with but few men in the world, whose acquaintance I find much reason to covet, I make more than ordinary haste into the familiarity of a rational inquirer after, and lover of truth, whenever I can light on any such. There are beauties of the mind, as well as of the body, that take and prevail upon first sight: and wherever I have met with this, I have readily surrendered myself, and have never yet been deceived in my expectation. Wonder not therefore, if, having been thus wrought on, I begin to converse with you, with as much freedom, as if we had begun our acquaintance when you were in Holland; and desire your advice and assistance about a second edition of my Essay, the former being now dispersed. You have, I perceive, read it over so carefully more than once, that I know nobody I can more reasonably consult, about the mistakes and defects of it. And I expect a great deal more, from any objections you shall make, who comprehend the whole design and compass of it, than from one who has read but a part of it, or measures it upon a slight reading, by his own prejudices. You will find, by my epistle to the reader, that I was not insensible of the fault I committed, by being too long upon some points; and the repetitions, that by my way of writing of it, had got in, I let it pass with, but not without advice so to do, But now, that my notions are got into the world, and have in some measure bustled through the opposition and difficulty they were like to meet with from the received opinion, and that prepossession, which might hinder them from being understood upon a short proposal; I ask you, whether it would not be better now to pare off, in a second edition, a great part of that which cannot but appear superfluous to an intelligent and attentive reader? If you are of that mind, I shall beg the favour of you to mark to me those passages, which you would think fittest to be left out. If there be any thing, wherein you think me mistaken, I beg you to deal freely with me, that either I may clear it up to you, or reform it in the next edition. For I flatter myself that I am so sincere a lover of truth, that it is very indifferent to me, so I am possessed of it, whether it be by my own, or any other’s discovery. For I count any parcel of this gold not the less to be valued, nor not the less enriching, because I wrought it not out of the mine myself. I think every one ought to contribute to the common stock, and to have no other scruple, or shyness, about the receiving of truth, but that he be not imposed on, and take counterfeit, and what will not bear the touch, for genuine and real truth. I doubt not but, to one of your largeness of thought, that, in the reading of my book, you miss several things, that perhaps belong to my subject, and you would think belongs to the system: if, in this part too, you will communicate your thoughts, you will do me a favour. For though I will not so far flatter myself as to undertake to fill up the gaps, which you may observe in it; yet it may be of use, where mine is at a stand, to suggest to others matter of farther contemplation. This I often find, that what men by thinking had made clear to themselves, they are apt to think, that upon the first suggestion it should be so to others, and so let it go, not sufficiently explained; not considering what may be very clear to themselves, may be very obscure to others. Your penetration and quickness hinders me from expecting from you many complaints of this kind. But, if you have met with any thing, in your reading of my book, which at first sight you stuck at, I shall think it a sufficient reason, in the next edition, to amend it, for the benefit of meaner readers.

The remarks of that learned gentleman you mention, which you say you have in your hands, I shall receive as a favour from you.

Though by the view I had of moral ideas, whilst I was considering that subject, I thought I saw that morality might be demonstratively made out; yet whether I am able so to make it out, is another question. Every one could not have demonstrated what Mr. Newton’s book hath shown to be demonstrable; but to show my readiness to obey your commands, I shall not decline the first leisure I can get to employ some thoughts, that way; unless I find what I have said in my essay shall have stirred up some abler man to prevent me, and effectually do that service to the world.

We had here, the 8th instant, a very sensible earthquake, there being scarce an house, wherein it was not by some body or other felt. We have news of it at several places, from Cologn as far as Bristol. Whether it reached you I have not heard. If it did, I would be glad to know, what was the exact time it was felt, if any body observed it. By the queen’s pendulum at Kensington, which the shake stopped from going, it was 2 h. post m. At Whitehall, where I observed it, it was by my watch 2 h. 5 m. post m. Which, supposing the queen’s pendulum went exact, and adding the equation of that day, will fall near the time marked by my watch or a little later. If there could be found people, that in the whole extent of it, did by well-adjusted clocks exactly observe the time, one might see whether it were all one shock or proceeded gradually from one place to another.

I thank you for having taken Dr. Sibelius into your protection. I desire you, with my service, to present my most humble thanks to your brother, for the favour of his letter; to which, though I have not time this post to return an answer, I shall not long delay my acknowledgments.

I hope you will see, by the freedom I have here taken with you, that I begin to reckon myself amongst your acquaintance. Use me so, I beseech you. If there be any service I can do you here, employ me, with the assurance that I am,

SIR,

Your most humble, and most faithful servant,

John Locke.

Will. Molyneux

Oct. 15, — 92

Dublin

Locke

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

Sir,

Dublin,

Oct. 15, — 92.

I DO most heartily beg your pardon for my long silence to yours of the 20th last. Our then approaching parliament was the occasion of my not returning you an immediate answer; and I expected withal to give you a more large account of some things, you desire from me. But seeing no immediate hopes of leisure, by reason of our parlimentary business, I venture at present to send you only the inclosed rough papers. And till I can have an opportunity myself of revising your book, have put it into the hands of a very ingenious and learned person, who promises me to give his observations in writing; which as soon as obtained I shall transmit to you. — The earthquake was not at all felt here. — I am wonderfully pleased that you give me hopes of seeing a moral essay from your hand; which I assure you, sir, with all sincerity, is highly respected by

Your most humble servant,

Will. Molyneux.

Dec. 22, 1692

Dublin

Locke

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

Sir,

Dublin,

Dec. 22, 1692.

I NOW sit down to answer yours of September 20, concerning the second edition of your book, wherein you desire my opinion and advice. And, after so long consideration of the matter, as between that and this; and consulting some ingenious heads here about it, I can say but little; only that the same judicious hand, that first formed it, is best able to reform it, where he sees convenient. I never quarrelled with a book for being too prolix, especially where the prolixity is pleasant, and tends to the illustration of the matter in hand, as I am sure yours always does. And after I received your letter on this subject, I communicated the contents thereof to two very ingenious persons here; and, at the same time I lent them your book, desiring them to examine it strictly; and to find out, and note, whatever might be changed, added, or subtracted. And after a diligent perusal, they agreed with me in the same conclusion, viz. that the work, in all its parts, was so wonderfully curious and instructive, that they would not venture to alter any thing in it. But however, that I may in some measure answer your expectations, I shall briefly note to you, what I conceive on this subject.

And, 1st, the errata typographica (besides those mentioned in the table) are many and great; these therefore, in your next edition, are diligently to be corrected.

2dly, page 270, It is asserted, “that, without a particular revelation, we cannot be certain, that matter cannot think, or that omnipotency may not endow matter with a power of thinking.”

And, page 314, 315, “the immateriality of God is evinced from the absolute impossibility of matter’s thinking.” These two places, I know, have been stumbled at by some as not consistent. To me indeed they appear, and are, very agreeable; and I have clearly evinced their consistency to those that have scrupled them. But I thought fit to give you this hint, that in your next edition you may prevent any such doubt. My sense of these two places is this. In the first it is said, “that we cannot tell (without a particular revelation to the contrary) but an almighty God can make matter think.” In the other it is asserted, “that unthinking matter cannot be this almighty God.” The next place I take notice of, as requiring some farther explication, is your discourse about man’s liberty and necessity. This thread seems so wonderfully fine spun in your book, that, at last, the great question of liberty and necessity seems to vanish. And herein you seem to make all sins to proceed from our understandings, or to be against conscience, and not at all from the depravity of our wills. Now it seems harsh to you, that a man will be damned, because he understands no better than he does. What you say concerning genera and species is unquestionably true; and yet it seems hard to assert, that there is no such sort of creatures in nature, as birds: for though we may be ignorant of the particular essence, that makes a bird to be a bird, or that determines and distinguishes a bird from a beast; or the just limits and boundaries between each; yet we can no more doubt of a sparrow’s being a bird, and an horse’s being a beast, than we can of this colour being black, and the other white: though, by shades they may be made so gradually to vanish into each other, that we cannot tell where either determines.

But all this I write more in deference to your desires from me, than to satisfy myself, that I have given you any material hints, or have offered any considerable objection, that is worth your notice and removal. Mr. Norris’s unfortunate attempts on your book sufficiently testify its validity; and truly I think he trifles so egregiously, that he should forewarn all men how far they venture to criticise on your book. But thus far, after all, I’ll venture to intimate to you, that if you are for another work of this kind, I should advise you to let this stand as it does. And your next should be of a model wholly new, and that is by way of logic; something accommodated to the usual forms, together with the consideration of extension, solidity, mobility, thinking, existence, duration, number, &c. and of the mind of man and its powers; as may make up a complete body of what the schools call logic and metaphysics. This I am the more inclinable to advise on two accounts; first, because I have lately seen Johannis Clerici Logica, Ontologia, et Pneumatologia, in all which he has little extraordinary, but what he borrows from you; and in the alteration he gives them, he robs them of their native beauties; which can only be preserved to them by the same incomparable art that first framed them. Secondly, I was the first that recommended and lent to the reverend provost of our university, Dr. Ashe, a most learned and ingenious man, your essay, with which he was so wonderfully pleased and satisfied, that he has ordered it to be read by the bachelors in the college, and strictly examines them in their progress therein. Now a large discourse, in the way of a logic, would be much more taking in the universities, wherein youths do not satisfy themselves to have the breeding or business of the place unless they are engaged in something that bears the name and form of logic.

This, sir, is in short what offers itself to me, at present, concerning your work. There remains only, that I again put you in mind of the second member of your division of sciences, the ars practica, or ethics; you cannot imagine what an earnest desire and expectation I have raised, in those that are acquainted with your writings, by the hopes I have given them from your promise of endeavouring something on that subject. Good sir, let me renew my requests to you therein; for believe me, sir, it will be one of the most useful and glorious undertakings that can employ you. The touches you give in many places of your book, on this subject, are wonderfully curious, and do largely testify your great abilities that way; and I am sure the pravity of men’s morals does mightily require the most powerful means to reform them. Be as large as it is possible on this subject, and by all means let it be in English. He that reads the 45th section, in your 129th page, will be inflamed to read more of the same kind, from the same incomparable pen. Look, therefore, on yourself as obliged by God Almighty to undertake this task (pardon me, sir, that I am so free with you, as to insist to yourself on your duty, who, doubtless, understand it better than I can tell you); suffer not therefore your thoughts to rest, till you have finished it; and that God Almighty may succeed your labours, is, and shall be the prayer of,

Worthy Sir,

Your intirely affectionate humble servant,

Will. Molyneux.

John Locke

Dec. 26, 1692

Oates

Molyneux

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

Sir,

Oates,

Dec. 26, 1692.

WHATEVER has happened to give you leisure sooner than was expected, I hope to receive some advantage by it. And that now you will be able to send me your own thoughts on my book, together with the observations of your friend, into whose hands you have put it with that design. I return you my humble thanks for the papers you did me the favour to send me in your last: but am apt to think you agree with me that there is very little in those papers, wherein either my sense is not mistaken, or very little, wherein the argument is directly against me. I suppose that learned gentleman, if he had had the leisure to read my essay quite through, would have found several of his objections might have been spared. And I can easily forgive those who have not been at the pains to read the third book of my essay, if they make use of expressions that, when examined, signify nothing at all, in defence of hypotheses, that have long possessed their minds. I am far from imagining myself infallible; but yet I should be loth to differ from any thinking man, being fully persuaded there are very few things of pure speculation, wherein two thinking men, who impartially seek truth, can differ, if they give themselves the leisure to examine their hypotheses, and understand one another. I, presuming you to be of this make, whereof so few are to be found, (for it is not every one that thinks himself a lover, or seeker of truth, who sincerely does it,) took the liberty to desire your objections, that in the next edition I might correct my mistakes. For I am not fond of any thing in my book, because I have once thought or said it. And therefore I beg you, if you will give yourself the pains to look over my book, again with this design, to oblige me, that you would use all manner of freedom, both as to matter, style, disposition, and every thing wherein, in your own thoughts, any thing appears to you fit, in the least, to be altered, omitted, explained, or added. I find none so fit, nor so fair judges, as those whose minds the study of mathematicks has opened, and dis-entangled from the cheat of words, which has too great an influence in all the other, which go for sciences: and I think (were it not for the doubtful and fallacious use that is made of those signs) might be made much more sciences than they are.

I sent order, some time since, that a posthumous piece of Mr. Boyle’s should be given to your bookseller in London, to be conveyed to you. It is “A General History of the Air;” which, though left by him very imperfect, yet I think the very design of it will please you; and it is cast into a method that any one who pleases may add to it, under any of the several titles, as his reading or observation shall furnish him with matter of fact. If such men as you are, curious and knowing, would join to what Mr. Boyle had collected and prepared what comes in their way, we might hope, in some time, to have a considerable history of the air, than which I scarce know any part of natural philosophy would yield more variety and use; but it is a subject too large for the attempts of any one man, and will require the assistance of many hands, to make it a history very short of complete.

Since I did myself the honour to write to your brother, I have been very ill, to which you must pardon some part of the length of my silence. But my esteem and respect for you is founded upon something so much beyond compliment and ceremony, that I hope you will not think me the less so, though I do not every post importune you with repeated professions that I am,

SIR,

Your most humble servant,

John Locke.

Jan. 20, 1692-3

Oates

Molyneux

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

Sir,

Oates,

Jan. 20, 1692-3.

HAD I known I should, within so few days, have received the favour of such a letter as yours of Dec. 22, I should not have troubled you with mine, that went hence but a little before the receipt of yours. I was afraid, in reading the beginning of yours, that I had not so great an interest in you as I flattered myself, and upon a presumption whereof it was, that I took the liberty so confidently to ask your advice, concerning the second edition of my book. But what followed satisfied me, that it was your civility, and not reservedness, made you tell me, that the same hand, which first formed it, is best able to reform it. Could I flatter myself so, as to think I deserved all that you say of me, in your obliging letter, I should yet think you a better judge of what is to be reformed in my book, than I myself. You have given the world proofs of your great penetration, and I have received great marks of your candour. But were the inequality between us as much to my advantage, as it is on the other side, I should nevertheless beg your opinion. Whatsoever is our own, let us do what we can, stands a little too near us to be viewed as it should: and, though we ever so sincerely aim at truth, yet our own thoughts, judging still of our own thoughts, may be suspected to overlook errours, and mistakes. And I should think he valued himself more than truth, and presumed too much on his own abilities, who would not be willing to have all the exceptions could be made, by any ingenious friend, before he ventured any thing into the public. I therefore heartily thank you, for those you have sent me, and for consulting some of your friends, to the same purpose: and beg the favour, if any thing more occurs from your own thoughts, or from them, you will be pleased to communicate it to me, if it be but those errata typographica you meet with, not taken notice of in the table. I confess, I thought some of the explications in my book too long, though turned several ways to make those abstract notions the easier sink into minds prejudiced in the ordinary way of education; and therefore I was of a mind to contract it. But finding you, and some other friends of mine, whom I consulted in the case of a contrary opinion, and that you judge the redundancy in it a pardonable fault, I shall take very little pains to reform it.

I confess what I say, page 270, compared with 314, 315, may, to an unwary reader, seem to contain a contradiction: but you, considering right, perceive that there is none. But it not being reasonable for me to expect that every body should read me with that judgment you do, and observe the design and foundation of what I say, rather than stick barely in the words, it is fit, as far as may be, that I accommodate myself to ordinary readers, and avoid the appearances of contradiction, even in their thoughts. P. 314, I suppose matter in its own natural state, void of thought; a supposition I concluded would not be denied me, or not hard to be proved, if it should: and thence I inferred, matter could not be the first eternal being. But, page 270, I thought it no absurdity, or contradiction, to suppose, “that, a thinking, omnipotent being once granted, such a being might annex to some systems of matter ordered in a way, that he thought fit, a capacity of some degrees of sense and thinking.” To avoid this appearance of a contradiction, in my two suppositions, and clear it up to less attentive readers, I intend in the second edition to alter it thus, if you think it will do:

P. 270, l. 20, read, “For I see no contradiction in it, that the first, eternal, thinking being, or omnipotent spirit, should, if he pleased, give to certain systems of created, senseless matter, put together as he thinks fit, some degrees of sense, perception, and thought, though I judge it no less than a contradiction, to suppose matter (which is evidently, in its own nature, without sense and thought) should be the eternal, first, thinking being. What certainty of knowledge can any one have, that some perceptions, such as, v. g. pleasure and pain, should not be in some bodies themselves after” ——

P. 315, l. 5, read, “Thought can never begin to be; for it is impossible to conceive that matter, either with or without motion, could have originally, in and from itself, sense, perception, and knowledge; as is evident from hence, that sense, perception, and knowledge must then be a property eternally inseparable from matter and every particle of it. Not to add, that though our general or specific conception of matter makes us speak of it as one thing; yet really all matter is not one individual thing, neither is there any such thing existing as one material being, or one body, that we know or can conceive. And therefore, if matter were the eternal, first, cogitative being, there would not be one eternal, infinite, cogitative being: but an infinite number of finite, cogitative beings independent one of another, of limited force and distinct thoughts, which could never produce that order, harmony, and beauty, is to be found in nature. Since, therefore, whatsoever is the first, eternal being must necessarily be cogitative: and whatsoever is first of all things —— higher degree it necessarily follows, that the eternal, first being cannot be matter.” Pray, give me your opinion, whether, if I print it thus, it will not remove the appearance of any contradiction.

I do not wonder to find you think my discourse about liberty a little too fine spun; I had so much that thought of it myself, that I said the same thing of it to some of my friends, before it was printed; and told them, that upon that account I judged it best to leave it out; but they persuaded me to the contrary. When the connexion of the parts of my subject brought me to the consideration of power, I had no design to meddle with the question of liberty; but barely pursued my thoughts in the contemplation of that power in man of choosing, or preferring, which we call the will, as far as they would lead me, without any the least bias to one side, or other; or, if there was any leaning in my mind, it was rather to the contrary side of that, where I found myself at the end of my pursuit. But doubting that it bore a little too hard upon man’s liberty, I showed it to a very ingenious but professed Arminian, and desired him, after he had considered it, to tell me his objections, if he had any, who frankly confessed he could carry it no farther. I confess, I think there might be something said, which with a great many men would pass for a satisfactory answer to your objection; but it not satisfying me, I neither put it into my book, nor shall now into my letter. If I have put any fallacy on myself, in all that deduction, as it may be, and I have been ready to suspect it myself, you will do me a very acceptable kindness to show it me, that I may reform it. But if you will argue for, or against, liberty from consequences, I will not undertake to answer you. For I own freely to you the weakness of my understanding, that though it be unquestionable, that there is omnipotence and omniscience in God, our maker, and I cannot have a clearer perception of any thing, than that I am free; yet I cannot make freedom in man consistent with omnipotence and omniscience in God, though I am as fully as persuaded of both, as of any truths I most firmly assent to. And, therefore, I have long since given off the consideration of that question, resolving all into this short conclusion, that if it be possible for God to make a free agent, then man is free, though I see not the way of it.

In the objection you raise about species, I fear you are fallen into the same difficulty I often found myself under, when I was writing on that subject, where I was very apt to suppose distinct species I could talk of, without names. For pray, sir, consider what it is you mean, when you say, that “we can no more doubt of a sparrow’s being a bird, and a horse’s being a beast, than we can of this colour being black, and the other white,” &c. but this, that the combination of simple ideas, which the word, bird, stands for, is to be found in that particular thing we call a sparrow. And therefore I hope I have no-where said, “there is no such sort of creatures in nature, as birds;” if I have, it is both contrary to truth and to my opinion. This I do say, that there are real constitutions in things, from whence these simple ideas flow, which we observe combined in them. And this I farther say, that there are real distinctions and differences in those real constitutions, one from another; whereby they are distinguished one from another, whether we think of them, or name them, or no: but that that whereby we distinguish and rank particular substances into sorts, or genera and species, is not those real essences, or internal constitutions, but such combinations of simple ideas, as we observe in them. This I designed to show, in lib. iii. c. 6. If, upon your perusal of that chapter again, you find any thing contrary to this, I beg the favour of you to mark it to me, that I may correct it; for it is not what I think true. Some parts of that third book, concerning words, though the thoughts were easy and clear enough, yet cost me more pains to express, than all the rest of my essay. And therefore I shall not much wonder, if there be in some places of it obscurity and doubtfulness. It would be a great kindness from my readers to oblige me, as you have done, by telling me any thing they find amiss; for the printed book being more for others use than my own, it is fit I should accommodate it to that, as much as I can; which truly is my intention.

That which you propose, of turning my essay into a body of logic and metaphysics, accommodated to the usual forms, though I thank you very kindly for it, and plainly see in it the care you have of the education of young scholars, which is a thing of no small moment; yet I fear I shall scarce find time to do it: you have cut out other work for me, more to my liking, and I think of more use. Besides that, if they have, in this book of mine, what you think the matter of these two sciences, or what you will call them; I like the method it is in, better than that of the schools, where I think it is no small prejudice to knowledge, that predicaments, predicables, &c. being universally, in all their systems, come to be looked on as necessary principles, or unquestionable parts of knowledge, just as they are set down there. If logic be the first thing to be taught young men, after grammar, as is the usual method, I think yet it should be nothing but proposition and syllogism. But that being in order to their disputing exercises in the university, perhaps I may think those may be spared too: disputing being but an ill (not to say the worst) way to knowledge. I say this not as pretending to change, or find fault with, what public allowance and established practice has settled in universities; but to excuse myself to you, from whom I cannot allow myself to differ, without telling you the true reasons of it. For I see so much knowledge, candour, and the marks of so much good-will to mankind in you, that there are few men, whose opinion I think ought to have so much authority with me as yours. But, as to the method of learning, perhaps I may entertain you more at large hereafter; only now let me ask you, since you mention logic and metaphysics in relation to my book, whether either of those sciences may suggest to you any new heads, fit to be inserted into my essay, in a second edition?

You have done too much honour to me in the recommendation I see you have given to my book; and I am the more pleased with it, because I think it was not done out of kindness to one so much a stranger to you as I then was. But yet, pray do not think me so vain that I dare assume to myself almost any part of what you say of me in your last letter. Could I find in myself any reason you could have to flatter me, I should suspect you resolved to play the courtier a little. But I know what latitude civil and well-bred men allow themselves with great sincerity, where they are pleased, and kindness warms them. I am sensible of the obligation, and in return shall only tell you, that I shall speedily set myself to obey your commands in the last part of your letter. I beg your pardon for trespassing so much on your patience, and am,

SIR,

Your most humble and most obliged servant,

John Locke.

Will. Molyneux

March 2, 1692-3

Dublin

Locke

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

Dublin,

March 2, 1692-3.

Honoured Sir,

YOURS of Jan. 20 came to my hands, just as I lay down on a bed of sickness, being a severe colic, that held me nigh five weeks, and brought me very weak; this was the more grievous to me, in that it hindered me from giving that ready answer to your letters, which I desired; being very covetous, on all opportunities, of keeping up a correspondence with one, for whom I had so great a respect. I am now, God be thanked, pretty well recovered; but yet weak, and have not yet stirred abroad. I know the bare signifying this to you is sufficient in my excuse; so that, relying on your pardon, I proceed to answer your last.

And first, sir, believe me, that whatever respect I have at any time used to you, has been the sincere thoughts of my heart, and not the vain compliments that usually pass between courtiers, and, how extravagant soever, are looked upon as the effects of good breeding, and pass only as such, by licence. I think I know a worthy man when I meet him, and they are so rare in the world, that no honour is too great for those that are such. And I must plainly say it to yourself, that so much humanity, candour, condescension, and good-nature, joined with so great judgment, learning, and parts, I have not met with in any man living, as in the author of the “Essay concerning Human Understanding.” You so favourably entertain all men’s objections, you are so desirous to hear the sense of others, you are so tender in differing from any man, that you have captivated me beyond resistance. What you propose to add in those places, which I intimated to you, as seemingly repugnant to unwary readers, and 314, 315, is abundantly sufficient; unless you may think it convenient (for the prevention of all manner of scruple, and to show your readers, that you are aware of the objection that may be raised against these passages) to add in the margin a little note to that purpose, specifying the seeming repugnancy that was in the first edition, and that, for the clearing thereof, you have thus farther illustrated it in this. But this, as every thing else, I propose with all submission to your better judgment. Mentioning the marginal note to you minds me to intimate, that I should think it convenient, in your next edition, to express the abstract or content of each section in the margin, and to spare (if you think fit) the table of contents at the latter end of the book, though I think both may do best. I can assure you, for my own reading, and consulting your book, I have put the table of contents to their respective sections throughout the whole.

I am fully convinced, by the arguments you give me, for not turning your book into the scholastic form of logic and metaphysics; and I had no other reason to advise the other, but merely to get it promoted the easier in our university; one of the businesses of which places is to learn according to the old forms. And this minds me to let you know the great joy and satisfaction of mind I conceived, on your promise of the method of learning; there could be nothing more acceptable to me, than the hopes thereof, and that on this account; I have but one child in the world, who is now nigh four years old, and promises well; his mother left him to me very young, and my affections (I must confess) are strongly placed on him: it has pleased God, by the liberal provisions of our ancestors, to free me from the toiling cares of providing a fortune for him; so that my whole study shall be to lay up a treasure of knowledge in his mind, for his happiness both in this life and the next. And I have been often thinking of some method for his instruction, that may best obtain the end I propose. And now, to my great joy, I hope to be abundantly supplied by your method. And my brother has sometimes told me, that, whilst he had the happiness of your acquaintance at Leyden, you were upon such a work, as this I desire; and that too, at the request of a tender father, for the use of his only son. Wherefore, good sir, let me most earnestly intreat you, by no means to lay aside this infinitely useful work, till you have finished it; for it will be of vast advantage to all mankind, as well as particularly to me, your intire friend. And, on this consideration of usefulness to mankind, I will presume again to remind you of your “discourse of morality;” and I shall think myself very happy, if, by putting you on the thought, I should be the least occasion of so great good to the world. What I have more to say, relating to your book, is of little or no moment: however, you so readily entertain all men’s thoughts of your works, that futile as mine are, you shall have a remark or two more from me.

But first to your query, whether I know any new heads from logic or metaphysics to be inserted in the second edition of your essay: I answer, I know none, unless you think it may not do well to insist more particularly, and at large, on “æternæ veritates, and the principium individuationis.” Concerning the first, you have some touches, , § 31, , § 14, , § 14, and concerning the latter, , § 4, , § 12.

Page 96, sect. 9, you assert, what I conceive is an errour in fact, viz. “that a man’s eye can distinguish a second of a circle, whereof its self is the centre.” Whereas it is certain, that few men’s eyes can distinguish less than 30 seconds, and most not under a minute, or 60 seconds, as is manifest from what Mr. Hook lays down in his animadversions, on the first part of Hevelii machina cœlestis, , 9, &c. but this, as I said before, is only an errour in fact, and affects not the doctrine laid down in the said section.

Page 341, sect. 2, you say, “the existence of all things without us (except only of God) is had by our senses.” And , sect. 33, 34, 35, 36, you show how the idea we have of God, is made up of the ideas we have gotten by our senses. Now this, though no repugnancy; yet, to unwary readers, may seem one, and therefore perhaps may deserve a fuller expression. To me it is plain, that in page 341, you speak barely of the existence of a God; and in , you speak of the ideas that are ingredient in the complex idea of God; that is, , you say, “that all the ideas ingredient in the idea of a God, are had from sense;” and , you only assert, “that the existence of this God, or that really there are united in one being all these ideas, is had, not from sense, but demonstration.” This to me seems your sense; yet perhaps every reader may not so readily conceive it; and, therefore, possibly you may think this passage, , worthy your farther consideration and addition.

I will conclude my tedious lines with a jocose problem, that, upon discourse with several, concerning your book and notions, I have proposed to divers very ingenious men, and could hardly ever meet with one, that, at first dash, would give me the answer to it which I think true, till by hearing my reasons they were convinced. It is this: “Suppose a man born blind, and now adult, and taught by his touch to distinguish between a cube and a sphere (suppose) of ivory, nighly of the same bigness, so as to tell when he felt one and t’other, which is the cube, which the sphere. Suppose then the cube and sphere placed on a table, and the blind man to be made to see; query, ‘Whether by his sight, before he touched them, he could now distinguish and tell, which is the globe, which the cube?’ I answer, not: for though he has obtained the experience of how a globe, and how a cube affects his touch; yet he has not yet attained the experience, that what affects his touch so or so, must affect his sight so or so; or that a protuberant angle in the cube, that pressed his hand unequally, shall appear to his eye as it does in the cube.” But of this enough; perhaps you may find some place in your essay, wherein you may not think it amiss to say something of this problem.

I am extremely obliged to you for Mr. Boyle’s book of the air, which lately came to my hands. It is a vast design, and not to be finished but by the united labours of many heads, and indefatigably prosecuted for many years; so that I despair of seeing any thing complete therein. However, if many will lend the same helping hands that you have done, I should be in hopes: and certainly there is not a chapter in all natural philosophy of greater use to mankind than what is here proposed. I am,

Worthy Sir,

Your most humble servant,

Will. Molyneux.

John Locke

28 Mar. 1693

London

Molyneux

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

Sir,

London,

28 Mar. 1693.

YOUR silence, that spared me a great deal of fear and uneasiness, by concealing from me your sickness, ‘till it was well over, is abundantly made amends for, by the joy it brings me, in the news of your recovery. You have given me those marks of your kindness to me, that you will not think it strange, that I count you amongst my friends; and with those, desiring to live with the ease and freedom of a perfect confidence, I never accuse them to myself of neglect, or coldness, when I fail to hear from them, so soon as I expected or desired: though had I known you so well before as I do now, since your last letter, I should not have avoided being in pain upon account of your health.

I cannot at all doubt the sincerity of any thing you say to me; but yet give me leave to think, that it is an excess of kindness alone could excuse it from looking like compliment. But I am convinced you love your friends extremely, where you have made choice of them, and then believe you can never think nor speak too well of them. I know not whether it belongs to a man, who gets once in print, to read in his book, that it is perfect, and that the author is infallible. Had I had such an opinion of my own sufficiency before I writ, my essay would have brought me to another, and given me such a sight of the weakness of my understanding, that I could not fail to suspect myself of errour and mistake, in many things I had writ, and to desire all the light I could get from others to set me right. I have found you one of the likeliest to afford it me; your clearness and candour gave me the confidence to ask your judgment; and I take it for no small assurance of your friendship that you have given it me, and have condescended to advise me of the printer’s faults, which gives me hopes you have not concealed any you have observed in the work itself. The marginal summaries you desire, of the paragraphs, I shall take care to have added, were it only for your sake; but I think too it will make the book the more useful.

That request of yours, you press so earnestly upon me, makes me bemoan the distance you are from me, which deprives me of the assistance I might have from your opinion and judgment, before I ventured any thing into the public. It is so hard to find impartial freedom in one’s friends, or an unbiassed judgment any-where, that amongst all the helps of conversation and acquaintance, I know none more wanted, nor more useful, than speaking freely and candidly one’s opinion upon the thoughts and compositions of another intended for the press. Experience has taught me, that you are a friend of this rank, and therefore I cannot but heartily wish that a sea between us did not hinder me from the advantage of this good office. Had you been within reach, I should have begged your severe examination of what is now gone to the printer, at your instance; I had rather I could have said upon your perusal, and with your correction. I am not in my nature a lover of novelty, nor contradiction; but my notions in this treatise have run me so far out of the common road and practice, that I could have been glad to have had them allowed by so sober a judgment as yours, or stopped, if they had appeared impracticable or extravagant, from going any farther. That which your brother tells you, on this occasion, is not wholly besides the matter. The main of what I now publish, is but what was contained in several letters to a friend of mine, the greatest part whereof were writ out of Holland. How your brother came to know of it, I have clearly forgot, and do not remember that ever I communicated it to any body there. These letters, or at least some of them, have been seen by some of my acquaintance here, who would needs persuade me it would be of use to publish them; your impatience to see them has not, I assure you, slackened my hand, or kept me in suspense: and I wish now they were out, that you might the sooner see them, and I the sooner have your opinion of them. I know not yet whether I shall set my name to this discourse, and therefore shall desire you to conceal it. You see I make you my confessor, for you have made yourself my friend.

The faults of the press are, I find, upon a sedate reading over my book, infinitely more than I could have thought; those that you have observed, I have corrected, and return you my thanks; and, as far as I have gone in my review, have added and altered several things; but am not yet got so far as those places you mark for the “æternæ veritates, and principium individuationis,” which I shall consider, when I come to them, and endeavour to satisfy your desire. “Malebranche’s hypothesis of seeing all things in God,” being that from whence I find some men would derive our ideas, I have some thoughts of adding a new chapter, wherein I will examine it, having, as I think, something to say against it, that will show the weakness of it very clearly. But I have so little love to controversy, that I am not fully resolved. Some other additions I have made, I hope, will not displease you, but I wish I could show them you, before they are in print; for I would not make my book bigger, unless it were to make it better.

I thank you for advising me of the errour about sight, for indeed it was a great one in matter of fact, but it was in the expression; for I meant a minute, but by mistake called 1/60 of a degree a second. Your ingenious problem will deserve to be published to the world.

The seeming contradiction between what is said page 147, and , is just as you take it, and I hope so clearly expressed, that it cannot be mistaken, but by a very unwary reader, who cannot distinguish between an idea in the mind, and the real existence of something out of the mind answering that idea. But I heartily thank you for your caution, and shall take care how to prevent any such mistake, when I come to that place. My humble service to your brother. I am,

SIR,

Your most humble servant,

John Locke.

Will. Molyneux

April 18, 1693

Dublin

Locke

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

Sir,

Dublin,

April 18, 1693.

I HAVE lately received farther testimonies of your kindness and friendship to me, in your last of March 28; which brings withal the welcome news of your having committed your work of education to the press; than which, I know not any thing, that I ever expected with a more earnest desire. What my brother told me, relating to that treatise, he had from yourself in Holland; but perhaps you might have forgot what passed between you on that occasion. I perceive you fear the novelty of some notions therein may seem extravagant; but, if I may venture to judge of the author, I fear no such thing from him. I doubt not but the work will be new and peculiar, as his other performances; and this it is that renders them estimable and pleasant. He that travels the beaten roads may chance, indeed, to have company; but he that takes his liberty, and manages it with judgment, is the man that makes useful discoveries, and most beneficial to those that follow him. Had Columbus never ventured farther than his predecessors, we had yet been ignorant of a vast part of our earth, preferable (as some say) to all the other three. And, if none may be allowed to try the ocean of philosophy farther than our ancestors, we shall have but little advancements, or discoveries, made in the “mundus intellectualis;” wherein, I believe, there is much more unknown, than what we have yet found out.

I should very much approve of your adding a chapter in your essay, concerning Malebranche’s hypothesis. As there are enthusiasms in divinity, so there are in philosophy; and as one proceeds from not consulting or misapprehending the book of God; so the other from not reading and considering the book of nature. I look upon Malebranche’s notions, or rather Plato’s, in this particular, as perfectly unintelligible. And if you will engage in a philosophic controversy, you cannot do it with more advantage, than in this matter. What you lay down, concerning our ideas and knowledge, is founded and confirmed by experiment and observation, that any man may make in himself, or the children he converses with, wherein he may note the gradual steps that we may make in knowledge. But Plato’s fancy has no foundation in nature, but is merely the product of his own brain.

I know it is none of your business to engage in controversy, or remove objections, save only such as seem immediately to strike at your own positions; and therefore I cannot insist upon what I am now going to mention to you. However, I will give you the hint, and leave the consideration thereof to your own breast. The 10th chapter of your ivth book, is a most exact demonstration of the existence of God. But perhaps it might be more full, by an addition against the eternity of the world, and that all things have not been going on in the same manner, as we now see them, “ab æterno.” I have known a pack of philosophical atheists, that rely much on this hypothesis; and even Hobbes himself does somewhere allege (if I am not forgetful, it is his book “De corpore,” in the chapter “de universo”) “that the same arguments, which are brought against the eternity of the world, may serve as well against the eternity of the Creator of the world.” I am,

Honoured Sir,

Your most affectionate, devoted servant,

Will. Molyneux.

John Locke

15 July, 1693

London

Molyneux

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

Sir,

London,

15 July, 1693.

I HAD not been so long, before I had acknowledged the favour of your last, had not I a design to give you at large, an account of some alterations I intended to make, in the chapter of power, wherein I should have been very glad you had showed me any mistake. I myself, not being very well satisfied, by the conclusion I was led to, that my reasonings were perfectly right, reviewed that chapter again with great care, and by observing only the mistake of one word (viz. having put “things” for “actions,” which was very easy to be done in the place where it is, viz. , as I remember, for I have not my book by me, here in town) I got into a new view of things, which, if I mistake not, will satisfy you, and give a clearer account of human freedom than hitherto I have done, as you will perceive by the summaries of the following sections of that chapter.

§ 28. Volition is the ordering of some action by thought.

§ 29. Uneasiness determines the will.

§ 30. Will must be distinguished from desire.

§ 31. The greater good in view, barely considered, determines not the will. The joys of heaven are often neglected.

§ 32. Desire determines the will.

§ 33. Desire is an uneasiness.

§ 34. The greatest present uneasiness usually determines the will, as is evident in experience. The reasons.

§ 35. Because uneasiness being a part of unhappiness, which is first to be removed in our way to happiness.

§ 36. Because uneasiness alone is present.

§ 37. The uneasiness of other passions have their share with desire.

§ 38. Happiness alone moves the desire.

§ 39. All absent good not desired, because not necessary to our happiness.

§ 40. The greatest uneasiness does not always determine the will, because we can suspend the execution of our desires.

This short scheme may perhaps give you so much light into my present hypothesis, that you will be able to judge of the truth of it, which I beg you to examine by your own mind. I wish you were so near, that I could communicate it to you at large, before it goes to the press. But it is so much too long for a letter, and the press will be so ready to stay for it, before it is finished, that I fear I should not be able to have the advantage of your thoughts, upon the whole thread of my deduction. For I had much rather have your corrections, whilst they might contribute to make it receive your approbation, than flatter myself before-hand that you will be pleased with it.

I hope, ere this, you have received from Mr. —— that which I promised you, the beginning of the spring. I must desire your opinion of it without reserve, for I should not have ventured, upon any other condition, to have owned and presented to you such a trifle. I am,

SIR,

Your most humble servant,

John Locke.

Will. Molyneux

August 12, 1693

Dublin

Locke

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

Sir,

Dublin,

August 12, 1693.

YOURS of July 15, came to my hands about a fortnight since; and I had, ere this, acknowledged the favour thereof, but that I waited the arrival of your much desired piece, of education, which came not to me ‘till about three days ago. I immediately set myself to read it as all things from its author, with the utmost attention; and I find it answerable to the highest expectations I had of it. And since, with your usual modesty, you are pleased to require my thoughts more particularly concerning it, I shall with all freedom, but at the same time with all deference, propose them to you, not doubting of your favourable interpretation and pardon, where you see it needful. And first, in general, I think you propose nothing in your whole book, but what is very reasonable, and very practicable, except only in one particular, which seems to bear hard on the tender spirits of children, and the natural affections of parents: it is page 117, 118, where you advise, “that a child should never be suffered to have what he craves, or so much as speaks for, much less if he cries for it.” I acknowledge what you say in explaining this rule, sect. 101, in relation to natural wants, especially that of hunger, may be well enough allowed: but in sect. 102, where you come to apply it to “wants of fancy and affectation,” you seem too strict and severe. You say indeed, “this will teach them to stifle their desires, and to practise modesty and temperance;” but for teaching these virtues I conceive we shall have occasions enough, in relation to their hurtful desires, without abridging them so wholly, in matters indifferent and innocent, that tend only to divert and please their busy spirits. You allow indeed, “that it would be inhumanity to deny them those things one perceives would delight them;” if so, I see no reason why, in a modest way, and with submission to the wills of their superiours, they may not be allowed to declare what will delight them. No, say you; “but in all wants of fancy and affectation they should never, if once declared, be hearkened to, or complied with.” This I can never agree to, it being to deny that liberty between a child and its parents, as we desire, and have granted us, between man and his Creator. And as, in this case, man is allowed to declare his wants, and with submission to recommend his requests to God; so I think children may be allowed by their parents, or governors. And as between the creature and Creator all manner of repining upon denial, or disappointment, is forbidden; so, in the case of children, all frowardness or discontent, upon a refusal, is severely to be reprimanded. But thus far I agree with you, in the whole, that whether it be in wants natural, or fanciful, that they express their desires in a forward, humoursome manner, there they should be surely denied them. A farther reason for my allowing children the liberty of expressing their innocent desires, is, that the contrary is impracticable; and you must have the children almost moped for want of diversion and recreation; or else you must have those about them study nothing all day, but how to find employment for them; and how this would rack the invention of any man alive, I leave you to judge. And besides, were it an easy task for any adult person to study the fancy, the unaccountable fancy, and diversion of children, the whole year round; yet it would not prove delightful to a child, being not his own choice. But this, you will say, is what you would have imprinted on them, that they are not to choose for themselves; but why not, in harmless things, and plays or sports, I see no reason. In all things of moment let them live by the conduct of others wiser than themselves.

This, sir, is all that in your whole book I stick at; to all the rest I could subscribe. And I am not a little pleased, when I consider that my own management of my only little one has hitherto been agreeable, in the main, to your rules, save only in what relates to his hardy breeding, which I was cautious in, because he is come from a tender and sickly mother; but the child himself is hitherto (God be thanked) very healthful, though not very strong.

The rules you give for the correcting of children, and implanting in their minds an early sense of praise or dispraise, of repute and dishonour, are certainly very just.

The contrivances you propose for teaching them to read and write, are very ingenious. And because I have practised one much of the same nature, I will venture to describe it: “It is by writing syllables and words in print-hand, on the face of a pack of cards, with figures or cyphers adjoined to each word; by which I can form twenty several sorts of games, that shall teach children both to read and count at the same time; and this with great variety.” One thing more I shall venture to add to what you direct concerning writing; that is, I will have my son taught shorthand; I do not mean to that perfection as to copy a speech from the mouth of a ready speaker, but to be able to write it readily, for his own private business. Believe me, sir, it is as useful a knack as a man of business, or any scholar, can be master of, and I have found the want of it myself, and seen the advantage of it in others, frequently.

You are certainly in the right of it, relating to the manner of acquiring languages, French, Latin, &c. and in what you lay down concerning grammar-schools, themes, verses, and other learning. But above all, what you direct, in every particular, for the forming of children’s minds, and giving them an early turn to morality, virtue, religion, &c. is most excellent.

And I can only say in general, that I can give no better proof of my liking your book in all these precepts, than by a strict observance of them, in the education of my own son; which I shall pursue (God willing) as exactly as I can. One thing I fear I shall be at a loss in, that is, a tutor agreeable to the character you prescribe. But in this neither shall my endeavours be wanting, though I leave him the worse estate, to leave him the better mind.

I could heartily have wished you had been more particular in naming the authors you would advise gentlemen to read, and be conversant in, in the several parts of learning you recommend to their study. Had you done this, I know no logic, that deserves to be named, but the Essay of Human Understanding. So that I fear you would rather have left that head open, that recommended your own work.

The last thing I shall take notice of, is what mightily pleases me, it being the very thought of my own mind, these many years; which is, “your recommending a manual trade to all gentlemen.” This I have ever been for, and have wondered how it comes to pass, that it is so generally neglected; but the lazy, effeminate luxuriousness that over-runs the nation, occasions the neglect thereof. Painting I have ever designed for my son; but you have raised two objections against it, that are not easily answered, especially its taking up so much time to attain a mastery in it.

I have now given you my opinion of your book, and now I am obliged to thank you for sending me a present, which I so highly value.

As to that part of your letter, relating to the alterations you have made, in your Essay, concerning man’s liberty, I dare not venture, upon those short hints you give me, to pass my opinion. But now, that you have discovered it to me, I plainly perceive the mistake of sect. 28. , where you put “thing” for “action.” And I doubt not, but in your next edition, you will fully rectify this matter. And I would advise you to hasten that edition with what speed you can, lest foreigners undertake a translation of your first, without your second thoughts. Thus they have served me, by translating into Latin, and printing my Dioptrics in Holland, when I have now by me a translation of my own of that work, with many amendments and large additions.

Pray, sir, let me beg the favour of your correspondence as frequently as you can; for nothing is more acceptable to

Your most obliged humble servant,

Will. Molyneux.

John Locke

Aug. 23, 1693

Oates

Molyneux

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

Sir,

Oates,

Aug. 23, 1693.

YOURS of August 12, which I received last night, eased me of a great deal of pain, your silence had for some time put me in; for you must allow me to be concerned for your health, as for a friend that I could not think in danger, or a disease, without a concern and trouble suitable to that great esteem and love I have for you. But you have made me amends plentifully, by the length and kindness, and let me add too, the freedom of your letter. For the approbation you so largely give to my book, is the more welcome to me, and gives me the better opinion of my method, because it has joined with it your exception to one rule of it; which I am apt to think you yourself, upon second thoughts, will have removed before I say any thing to your objections. It confirms to me that you are the good-natured man I took you for: and I do not at all wonder that the affection of a kind father should startle at it at first reading, and think it very severe that children should not be suffered to express their desires; for so you seem to understand me. And such a restraint, you fear, “would be apt to mope them, and hinder “their diversion.” But if you please to look upon the place, and observe my drift, you will find that they should not be indulged, or complied with, in any thing, their conceits have made a want to them, as necessary to be supplied. What you say, “that children would be moped for want of diversion and recreation, or else we must have those about them study nothing all day, but how to find employment for them; and how this would rack the invention of any man living, you leave me to judge;” seems to intimate, as if you understood that children should do nothing but by the prescription of their parents or tutors, chalking out each action of the whole day in train to them. I hope my words express no such thing; for it is quite contrary to my sense, and I think would be useless tyranny in their governors, and certain ruin to the children. I am so much for recreation, that I would, as much as possible, have all they do be made so. I think recreation as necessary to them as their food, and that nothing can be recreation which does not delight. This, I think, I have so expressed; and when you have put that together, judge whether I would not have them have the greatest part of their time left to them, without restraint, to divert themselves any way they think best, so it be free from vicious actions, or such as may introduce vicious habits. And therefore, if they should ask to play, it could be no more interpreted a want of fancy, than if they asked for victuals when hungry; though, where the matter is well ordered, they will never need to do that. For when they have either done what their governor thinks enough, in any application to what is usually made their business, or are perceived to be tired with it, they should of course be dismissed to their innocent diversions, without ever being put to ask for it. So that I am for the full liberty of diversion as much as you can be; and, upon a second perusal of my book, I do not doubt but you will find me so. But being allowed that, as one of their natural wants, they should not yet be permitted to let loose their desires, in importunities for what they fancy. Children are very apt to covet what they see those above them in age have or do, to have or do the like; especially if it be their elder brothers and sisters. Does one go abroad? The other straight has a mind to it too. Has such an one new, or fine clothes, or playthings? They, if you once allow it them, will be impatient for the like; and think themselves ill dealt with, if they have it not. This being indulged when they are little, grows up with their age, and with that enlarges itself to things of greater consequence, and has ruined more families than one in the world. This should be suppressed in its very first rise, and the desires you would not have encouraged, you should not permit to be spoken, which is the best way for them to silence them to themselves. Children should, by constant use, learn to be very modest in owning their desires; and careful not to ask any thing of their parents, but what they have reason to think their parents will approve of. And a reprimand upon their ill-bearing a refusal comes too late, the fault is committed and allowed, and if you allow them to ask, you can scarce think it strange they should be troubled to be denied; so that you suffer them to engage themselves in the disorder, and then think the fittest time for a cure, and I think the surest and easiest way is prevention. For we must take the same nature to be in children that is in grown men; and how often do we find men take ill to be denied what they would not have been concerned for, if they had not asked? But I shall not enlarge any farther in this, believing you and I shall agree in the matter; and indeed it is very hard, and almost impossible to give general rules of education, when there is scarce any one child which, in some cases, should not be treated differently from another. All that we can do, in general, is only to show what parents and tutors should aim at, and leave to them the ordering of particular circumstances as the case shall require.

One thing give me leave to be importunate with you about: you say, your son is not very strong; to make him strong, you must use him hardly, as I have directed; but you must be sure to do it by very insensible degrees, and begin an hardship you would bring him to only in the spring. This is all the caution needs be used. I have an example of it in the house I live in, where the only son of a very tender mother was almost destroyed by a too tender keeping. He is now, by a contrary usage, come to bear wind and weather, and wet in his feet; and the cough which threatened him, under that warm and cautious management, has left him, and is now no longer his parents constant apprehension, as it was.

I am of your mind, as to short-hand. I myself learned it, since I was a man; but had forgot to put it in when I writ, as I have, I doubt not, overseen a thousand other things, which might have been said on this subject. But it was only, at first, a short scheme for a friend, and is published to excite others to treat it more fully.

I know not whether it would be useful to make a catalogue of authors to be read by a young man, or whether it could be done, unless one knew the child’s temper, and what he was designed to.

My essay is now very near ready for another edition; and upon review of my alterations, concerning what determines the will, in my cool thoughts, I am apt to think them to be right, as far as my thoughts can reach in so nice a point, and in short is this. Liberty is a power to act, or not to act, accordingly as the mind directs. A power to direct the operative faculties to motion or rest in particular instances, is that which we call the will. That which in the train of our voluntary actions determines the will to any change of operation, is some present uneasiness, which is, or at least is always accompanied with that of desire. Desire is always moved by evil to fly it; because a total freedom from pain always makes a necessary part of our happiness. But every good, nay every greater good, does not constantly move desire, because it may not make, or may not be taken to make, any necessary part of our happiness; for all that we desire is only to be happy. But though this general desire of happiness operates constantly and invariably in us; yet the satisfaction of any particular desire, can be suspended from determining the will to any subservient action, till we have maturely examined, whether the particular apparent good we then desire, make a part of our real happiness, or be consistent, or inconsistent with it. The result of our judgment, upon examination, is what ultimately determines the man, who could not be free, if his will were determined by any thing but his own desire, guided by his own judgment. This, in short, is what I think of this matter; I desire you to examine it by your own thoughts. I think I have so well made out the several particulars, where I treat them at large, that they have convinced some I have shown them to here, who were of another mind: and therefore how much soever contrary to the received opinion, I think I may publish them; but I would first have your judicious and free thoughts, which I much rely on; for you love truth for itself, and me so well, as to tell it me without disguise.

You will herewith receive a new chapter “Of identity and diversity,” which having writ only at your instance it is fit you should see and judge of, before it goes to the press. Pray send me your opinion of every part of it. You need not send back the papers, but your remarks on the paragraphs you shall think fit: for I have a copy here.

You desired me too to enlarge more particularly about eternal verities, which to obey you, I set about; but, upon examination, find all general truths are eternal verities, and so there is no entering into particulars; though, by mistake, some men have selected some, as if they alone were eternal verities. I never, but with regret, reflect on the distance you are from me, and am,

SIR,

Your most humble servant,

John Locke.

Will. Molyneux

Sept. 16, 1693

Dublin

Locke

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

Dublin,

Sept. 16, 1693.

Honoured Sir,

I HAVE yours from Oates of Aug. 23, with your chapter “of identity and diversity;” and I acknowledge myself extremely obliged to you, for being at all that thought, on my account. However, I repent not of the trouble I gave you therein, seeing the effects thereof, such clear reasoning, and profound judgment, that convinces and delights at once. And I protest, sir, it is to me the hardest task in the world, to add any thing to, or make any remarks upon, what you deliver therein; every thing you write therein is delivered with such convincing reason, that I fully assent to all. And to make remarks where I have no room to say any thing, would please neither you nor myself. And to show you that I would not wholly rely on my own examination of your chapter, I imparted it to others, desiring their censure of it; but still with the same event, all acknowledged the clearness of the reasoning, and that nothing more was left to be said on the subject.

The answer you make to what I writ on your Thoughts of Education, does fully satisfy me. But I assure you, sir, I was not the only person shocked at that passage. I find several stumble at it, as taking little play-things, that children are very apt to desire and ask for, to be matters of fancy and affectation within your rule. But seeing in your last letter, you confine desires of affectation and fancy to other matters, I am satisfied in this business.

I can say no more to the scheme you lay down of man’s liberty, but that I believe it very just, and will answer in all things. I long to see the second edition of your essay; and then, if any thing offer, I will give my thoughts more fully.

I am very sensible how closely you are engaged, till you have discharged this work off your hands; and therefore I will not venture, till it be over, to press you again to what you have promised in the business of man’s life, morality. But you must expect that I shall never be forgetful of that, from which I propose so great good to the world, and so much satisfaction to

Your most entirely affectionate humble servant,

Will. Molyneux.

Dec. 23, 1693

Dublin

Locke

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

Sir,

Dublin,

Dec. 23, 1693.

I HAVE now read over your Essay of human Understanding a third time, and always make new discoveries therein of something profound. I should set upon it again, but that I will wait for your next edition, which I hope, by this time, is almost finished. The usual satisfaction I take in reading all things that come from you, made me lately again run over your chapter “of idendity and diversity;” concerning the justness whereof, I have yet the same opinion as formerly. But one thought suggested itself to me, which on my first reading did not occur. It relates to sect. 22, wherein the reason you give, why the law may justly punish a sober man, for what he did when drunk, or a waking man, for what he did when walking in his sleep, though it be true and full in the case of the night-walker: yet I conceive it not so full in the case of the drunken man. For drunkenness is itself a crime, and therefore no one shall allege it an excuse of another crime. And in the law we find, “that killing a man by chance-medley is not capital;” yet if I am doing an unlawful act, as shooting at a deer in a park, to steal it, and by chance-medley I kill a man unawares, this is capital: because the act wherein I was engaged, and which was the occasion of this mischief, was in itself unlawful, and I cannot plead it in excuse. In the case of the night-walker, your answer is true, full, and satisfactory; but that in the drunkard’s case is somewhat short. The night-walking is a sort of distemper, not to be helped, or prevented, by the patient. But drunkenness is a deliberate act, which a man may easily avoid and prevent. Moreover, whatever the law appoints in this case, I think, were I on the jury of one, who walking in his sleep had killed another, I should not violate a good conscience if I acquitted him; for he is certainly during those fits, “non compos mentis;” and it were easy to distinguish, by circumstances, how far he counterfeited or not.

You will very much oblige me, by a line or two, to let me know how forward your work is, and what other things you have on the anvil before you: amongst which, I hope, you will not forget your “Thoughts on Morality.” For I am obliged to prosecute this request to you, being the first, I presume, that moved you in it.

There is a gentleman in this town, one capt. Henry Monk, a nigh relation of the Albemarles, who tells me he has been known to you long ago: and on all occasions mentions you with the highest respects. He desired me, the other day, to give you his most humble service. I am,

Dear Sir,

Your most obedient servant,

Will. Molyneux.

John Locke

19 Jan. — 93-4

Oates

Molyneux

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

Honoured Sir,

Oates,

19 Jan. — 93-4.

I CAN take it for no other, than a great mark of your kindness to me, that you spend so much of your time, in the perusal of my thoughts, when you have so much better of your own to improve it. To which you add this farther obligation, that you read my book for my instruction, still taking notice to me of what you judge amiss in it. This is a good office that so few in the world perform in the way that you do, that it deserves my particular acknowledgment. And I own myself no less beholden to you, when I differ from you, than when, convinced by your better judgment, you give me opportunity to mend what before was amiss: your intention being that, to which I equally, in both cases, owe my gratitude.

You doubt, whether my answer be full in the case of the drunkard. To try whether it be or no, we must consider what I am there doing. As I remember (for I have not that chapter here by me) I am there showing that punishment is annexed to personality, and personality to consciousness: how then can a drunkard be punished for what he did, whereof he is not conscious? To this I answer, human judicatures justly punish him, because the fact is proved against him; but want of consciousness cannot be proved for him. This you think not sufficient, but would have me add the common reason, that drunkenness being a crime, one crime cannot be alleged in excuse for another. This reason, how good soever, cannot, I think, be used by me, as not reaching my case; for what has this to do with consciousness? Nay, it is an argument against me, for if a man may be punished for any crime which he committed when drunk, whereof he is allowed not to be conscious, it overturns my hypothesis. Your case of shooting a man by chance, when stealing a deer, being made capital, and the like, I allow to be just; but then, pray consider, it concerns not my argument; there being no doubt of consciousness in that case, but only shows, that any criminal action infects the consequences of it. But drunkenness has something peculiar in it, when it destroys consciousness; and so the instances you bring, justify not the punishing of a drunken fact, that was totally and irrecoverably forgotten; which the reason that I give being sufficient to do, it well enough removed the objection, without entering into the true foundation of the thing, and showing how far it was reasonable for human justice to punish a crime of a drunkard, which he could be supposed not conscious of, which would have uselessly engaged me in a very large discourse, and an impertinent digression. For I ask you, if a man, by intemperate drinking, should get a fever, and in the frenzy of his disease (which lasted not, perhaps, above an hour) committed some crime, would you punish him for it? If you would not think this just, how can you think it just to punish him for any fact committed in a drunken frenzy, without a fever? Both had the same criminal cause, drunkenness, and both committed without consciousness. I shall not enlarge any farther into other particular instances, that might raise difficulties about the punishing, or not punishing, the crime of an unconscious, drunken man; which would not easily be resolved, without inquiring into the reason upon which human justice ought to proceed in such cases, which was beyond my present business to do. Thus, sir, I have laid before you the reasons, why I have let that passage go, without any addition made to it. I desire you to lay by your friendship to me, and only to make use of your judgment in considering them. And if you are still of opinion, that I need give the reason too, that one crime cannot be alleged in excuse of another, I beg the favour of you to let me know it as soon as you can, that I may add what is necessary in this place, amongst the errata, before my book comes out, which advances now apace, and I believe there are by this time near 150 pages of it printed. And now, sir, though I have not agreed with your opinion in this point; yet I beseech you, believe I am as much obliged to your kindness in it as if you had shown me what, upon your reason, had appeared to me the grossest mistake; and I beg the favour of you, whenever you cast your eye upon any of my writings, to continue and communicate to me your remarks.

You write to me, as if ink had the same spell upon me, that mortar, as the Italians say, has upon others, that when I had once got my fingers into it, I could never afterwards keep them out. I grant, that methinks I see subjects enough, which way ever I cast my eyes, that deserve to be otherwise handled, than I imagine they have been; but they require abler heads, and stronger bodies than I have, to manage them. Besides, when I reflect on what I have done, I wonder at my own bold folly, that has so far exposed me, in this nice and critical, as well as quick-sighted and learned age. I say not this to excuse a lazy idleness, to which I intend to give up the rest of my few days. I think every one, according to what way Providence has placed him in, is bound to labour for the public good, as far as he is able, or else he has no right to eat. Under this obligation of doing something, I cannot have a stronger to determine me what I shall do, than what your desires shall engage me in. I know not whether the attempt will exceed my strength. But there being several here, who join with you to press me to it; (I received a letter with the same instance, from two of my friends at London, the last post;) I think, the first leisure I can get to myself, I shall apply my thoughts to it; and however I may miss my aim, will justify myself in my obedience to you, and some others of my ingenious friends.

I am exceedingly obliged to capt. Monk, for his kind remembrance, and to you for sending it me, and letting me know he is alive. I have, as I ought, all the esteem for him, that you know so modest and good a man deserves. Pray, when you see him, present my humble service to him, and let him know that I am extremely glad to hear that he is well, and that he has not forgot me, and should be much more so, to see him here again in England. Pray, give my humble service to your brother. I am,

Dear Sir,

Your most humble, and most faithful servant,

John Locke.

Will. Molyneux

Feb. 17, 1693-4

Dublin

Locke

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

Dublin,

Feb. 17, 1693-4.

Honoured Sir,

I AM so very sensible of the great caution, and deep consideration you use, before you write any thing, that I wonder at my own hardiness, when I venture to object any thing against your positions. And when I read your answers to any such of my objections, I much more admire at my own weakness in making them. I have a new instance of this in your last of January 18th, which came not to this place before yesterday. This has most abundantly satisfied me, in the doubt I lay under, concerning the case of a drunken man; which you have cleared up to me, in three words, most convincingly. So that I think you have no reason in the least to alter that paragraph, unless you may think it convenient to express that matter a little plainer. Which, I think, indeed, your last letter to me does better than your twenty-second section of that chapter. That section runs thus:

“But is not a man, drunk and sober, the same person? Why else is he punished for the fact he commits, when drunk, though he be never afterwards conscious of it? Just as much the same person as a man that walks and does other things in his sleep, is the same person, and is answerable for any mischief he shall do in it. Human laws punish both with a justice suitable to their way of knowledge; because, in these cases, they cannot distinguish certainly what is real, what counterfeit. And so the ignorance in drunkenness, or sleep, is not admitted as a plea,” &c.

Now I conceive that which makes the expression herein not so very clear, is, “suitable to their way of knowledge;” some will be apt to mistake the word, their, to refer to the drunken, or sleeping man, whereas it refers to the laws, as if you had said, “suitable to that way of knowledge, or information, which the laws have established to proceed by.”

This, in your letter, is very manifest in a few words. There you say, “punishment is annexed to personality, personality to consciousness. How then can a drunkard be punished for what he did, whereof he is not conscious? To this I answer, human judicatures justly punish him, because the fact is proved against him, but want of consciousness cannot be proved for him.” This, sir, is most full in the case you are there treating of. So I have nothing more to offer in that matter.

Only give me leave to propose one question more to you, though it be foreign to the business you are upon, in your chapter of identity. How comes it to pass, that want of consciousness cannot be proved for a drunkard as well as for a frantic? One, methinks, is as manifest as the other: and if drunkenness may be counterfeit, so may a frenzy. Wherefore to me it seems, that the law has made a difference in these two cases, on this account, viz. “that drunkenness is commonly incurred voluntarily and premeditately; whereas a frenzy is commonly without our consent, or impossible to be prevented.” But enough of this.

I should not have troubled you with this, but that, according to your usual candour and goodness, you seemed to desire my farther thoughts thereon, as speedily as I could. I am,

Most worthy Sir,

Your most obliged humble servant,

Will. Molyneux.

John Locke

May 26, 1694

London

Molyneux

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

Sir,

London,

May 26, 1694.

THE slowness of the press has so long retarded my answer to your last obliging letter, that my book, which is now printed and bound, and ready to be sent to you, must be an excuse for my long silence. By the obedience I have paid to you in the index and summaries, ordered according to your desires, you will see it is not want of deference to you, or esteem of you, that has caused this neglect. And the profit I have made by your reflections, on several passages of my book, will, I hope, encourage you to the continuance of that freedom, to a man who can distinguish between the censures of a judicious friend, and the wrangling of a peevish critic. There is nothing more acceptable to me than the one, nor more, I think, to be slighted than the other. If therefore, as you seem to resolve, you shall throw away any more of your time in a perusal of my essay; judge, I beseech you, as severely as you can, of what you read. I know you will not forsake truth to quarrel with me; and whilst you follow her, you will always oblige me by showing me my mistakes, or what seems to you to be so. You will find in this second edition, that your advice, at any time, has not been thrown away upon me. And you will see by the errata, that, though your last came a little too late, yet that could not hinder me from following what you so kindly, and with so much reason, suggested.

I agree with you, that, drunkenness being a voluntary defect, want of consciousness ought not to be presumed in favour of the drunkard. But frenzy being involuntary, and a misfortune, not a fault, has a right to that excuse, which certainly is a just one, where it is truly a frenzy. And all that lies upon human justice is to distinguish carefully between what is real, and what counterfeit in the case.

My book, which I desire you to accept from me, is put into Mr. Churchill the bookseller’s hand, who has told me he will send it in a bale of books, the next week, to Mr. Dobson, a bookseller in Castle-street, Dublin; and I have ordered him to send with it a copy of the additions and alterations which are printed by themselves, and will help to make your former book useful to any young man, as you will see (is designed) by the conclusion of the epistle to the reader. I am,

SIR,

Your most affectionate, and most humble servant,

John Locke.

Will. Molyneux

June 2, 1694

Dublin

Locke

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

Dublin,

June 2, 1694.

Sir,

I AM highly obliged to you for the favour of your last, of May 26, which I received yesterday. It brought me the welcome news of the second edition of your essay being published; and that you have favoured me with a copy, which I shall expect with some impatience; and when I have perused it, I shall, with all freedom, give you my thoughts of it.

And now that you have cleared your hands of your second edition, I hope you may have leisure to turn your thoughts to the subject I have so often proposed to you: but this, you will say, is a cruelty in me, that no sooner you are rid of one trouble, but I set you on another. Truly, sir, were I sensible it could be a trouble to you, I should hardly presume so far on your goodness; but I know those things are so easy and natural to your mind, that they give you no pain in the production. And I know also, such is your universal love of mankind, that you count nothing troublesome that tends to their good, in a matter of so great concernment as morality.

I have formerly told you what care I proposed to take in the education of my only child. I must now beg your pardon, if I trouble you in a matter wherein I shall be at a loss without your assistance. He is now five years old, of a most towardly and promising disposition; bred exactly, as far as his age permits, to the rules you prescribe, I mean as to forming his mind, and mastering his passions. He reads very well, and I think it time now to put him forward to some other learning. In order to this, I shall want a tutor for him, and indeed this place can hardly afford me one to my mind. If, therefore, you know any ingenious man that may be proper for my purpose, you would highly oblige me, by procuring him for me. I confess the encouragement I can propose to such an one is but moderate, yet, perhaps, there may be some found that may not despise it. He should eat at my own table, and have his lodging, washing, firing, and candlelight, in my house, in a good handsome apartment; and besides this, I should allow him 20l. per annum. His work for this should be only to instruct three or four boys in Latin, and such other learning as you recommend in your book; I say three or four boys, because, perhaps, I may have a relation’s child or two; one, who is my sister’s son, I have always, and do intend to keep, as a companion to my own son; and of more I am uncertain. But if there be one or two, that will be no great addition to his trouble, considering that perhaps their parents may recompense that by their gratuities. I mention to you, of the languages, only Latin, but, if I could obtain it, I should be glad he were also master of the French. As to his other qualifications, I shall only say, in general, I could wish them such as you would desire in a tutor to instruct a young gentleman, as you propose in your book. I would have him indeed a good man, and a good scholar; and I propose very much satisfaction to myself, in the conversation of such an one. And because a man may be cautious of leaving his native soil, and coming into a strange country, without some certainty of being acceptable to those that send for him, and of some continuance and settlement, I can say that I design him to stay with my son to his state of manhood; whether he go into the university, or travel, or whatever other state of life he may take to. And if perhaps on trial for some time, he or I may not like each other, I do promise to bear his charges both to and from me, so that he shall be no loser by his journey.

I beg your answer to this at your leisure; and if any such present, be pleased to let me know of him what particulars you can, as his parentage, education, qualifications, disposition, &c. with what other particulars you please to mention; and accordingly I shall write to you farther about it.

In the mean time, I beseech you to pardon this trouble given you by,

Honoured Sir,

Your most affectionate, and most obliged

humble servant,

Will. Molyneux.

John Locke

June 28, 1694

London

Molyneux

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

Sir,

London,

June 28, 1694.

SINCE the receipt of yours of the second instant, I have made what inquiry I can for a tutor for your son; the most likely, and the best recommended that I have met with, you will have an account of from himself in the inclosed, to which I need add little but these two things; 1st, that Mr. Fletcher, who is a good judge, and a person whose word I can rely on, gave me a very good character of him, both as to his manners and abilities, and said he would be answerable for him: the other is, that, however it comes to pass, the Scotch have now here a far greater reputation for this sort of employment than our own countrymen. I am sorry it is so, but I have of late found it in several instances.

I hope, by this time, the second edition of my book, which I ordered for you, and a printed copy of the additions, are come to your hands. I wish it were more answerable to the value you place in it, and better worth your acceptation. But, as I order the matter, methinks I make it a hard bargain to you, to pay so much time and pains as must go to the reading it over, though it were more slightly than we seem agreed, when you promise, and I expect, your observations on it. There appears to me so little material, in the objections that I have seen in print against me, that I have passed them all by but one gentleman’s, whose book not coming to my hand till those parts of mine were printed that he questions, I was fain to put my answer in the latter end of the epistle.

I wish the endeavours I have used to procure you a tutor for your son may be as successful as I desire. It is a business of great concernment to both you and your son; but governors, that have right thoughts concerning education, are hard to be found. It is happy for your son that a good part of it is to be under your eye. I shall be very glad, if on this, or any other occasion, I may be able to do you any service; for with great sincerity and respect, I am,

SIR,

Your most humble servant,

John Locke.

Will. Molyneux

July 28, 1694

Dublin

Locke

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

Dublin,

July 28, 1694.

My most honoured Friend,

FOR so you have publicly allowed me to call you; and it is a title wherein I boast more than in maces or parliament-robes. By this you may find I have received the second edition of your essay, which I prize as an inestimable treasure of knowledge. It is but a week since it came to me; and I have yet only looked over those parts which are newly added, particularly that of liberty, the alterations wherein I take to be most judiciously made; and now I think that whole chapter stands so well put together, and the argumentation so legitimate, that nothing can shake it. I was mightily pleased to find therein a rational account of what I have often wondered at, viz. “why men should content themselves to stay in this life for ever, though at the same time they will grant, that in the next life they expect to be infinitely happy?” Of this you give so clear an account in the 44th section of your xxi. chapter, book II, that my wonder no longer remains. That candid recession from your former hypothesis, which you show in this chapter, where truth required it, raises in me a greater opinion (if possible) of your worth than ever. This is rarely to be found amongst men, and they seem to have something angelical, that are so far raised above the common pitch.

In time, I shall give you my farther thoughts of the other parts of your book, where any thing occurs to me. But, at present, I can only pour out my thanks to you for the favourable character under which you have transmitted me to posterity, . My only concern is, that I can pretend to none of it, but that of your friend; and this I set up for in the highest degree. I should think myself happy had I but half the title to the rest.

I am extremely obliged to you for the trouble you took on you in my last request, about a tutor for my son. I received your letter with Mr. Gibbs’s enclosed; to which I returned an answer, addressed to himself. The import whereof was, “That I had some offers made to me in this place, relating to that matter, to which I thought I should hearken, at least, so far as to make some trial. That I was loth to divert him from his good intentions to the ministry, and therefore I could not encourage him to undertake so long a journey, on such uncertainties on both sides, &c.” I am,

My most highly esteemed friend,

Your most affectionate humble servant,

Will. Molyneux.

John Locke

Sept. 3, 1694

Oates

Molyneux

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

Sir,

Oates,

Sept. 3, 1694.

I HAVE so much the advantage in the bargain, if friendship may be called one, that whatsoever satisfaction you find in yourself, on that account, you must allow in me with a large overplus. The only riches I have valued, or laboured to acquire, has been the friendship of ingenious and worthy men, and therefore you cannot blame me, if I so forwardly laid hold of the first occasion that opened me a way to yours. That I have so well succeeded in it I count one of my greatest happinesses, and a sufficient reward for writing my book, had I no other benefit by it. The opinion you have of it gives me farther hopes, for it is no small reward to one who loves truth, to be persuaded that he has made some discoveries of it, and any ways helped to propagate it to others. I depend so much upon your judgment and candour, that I think myself secure in you from peevish criticism or flattery; only give me leave to suspect, that kindness and friendship do sometimes carry your expressions a little too far on the favourable side. This, however, makes me not apprehend you will silently pass by any thing you are not thoroughly satisfied of in it. The use I have made of the advertisements I have received from you of this kind, will satisfy you that I desire this office of friendship from you, not out of compliment, but for the use of truth, and that your animadversions will not be lost upon me. Any faults you shall meet with in reasoning, in perspicuity, in expression, or of the press, I desire you to take notice of, and send me word of. Especially if you have any-where any doubt; for I am persuaded that, upon debate, you and I cannot be of two opinions; nor, I think, any two men used to think with freedom, who really prefer truth to opiniatrety, and a little foolish vain-glory, of not having made a mistake.

I shall not need to justify what I have said of you in my book: the learned world will be vouchers for me; and that in an age not very free from envy and censure. But you are very kind to me, since for my sake you allow yourself to own that part which I am more particularly concerned in, and permit me to call you my friend, whilst your modesty checks at the other part of your character. But, assure yourself, I am as well persuaded of the truth of it, as of any thing else in my book; it had not else been put down in it. It only wants a great deal more I had to say, had that been a place to draw your picture at large. Herein I pretend not to any peculiar obligation above others that know you. For though perhaps I may love you better than many others; yet, I conclude, I cannot think better of you than others do.

I am very glad you were provided of a tutor nearer home, and it had this particular good luck in it, that otherwise you had been disappointed, if you had depended on Mr. Gibbs; as a letter I wrote to you from London about it, I hope, acquainted you. I am,

Dear Sir,

Your most affectionate, and most humble servant,

John Locke.

Nov. 23, 1694

Oates

Molyneux

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

Sir,

Oates,

Nov. 23, 1694.

YOU speak of my book in such terms, that had I not convincing arguments that you are not a man of compliments, I should a little suspect your civility bordered very much on them in this case. But there are so few of them to be found, that you think you cannot speak too highly of the endeavours of one who pursues truth unbiassedly, and chooses not his opinions first, and then seeks arguments to support them. Upon that account I admit of whatever you please to say; but withal give me leave to assure you, that in the performance itself, I see nothing but what any one might have done, who would have sat down to it with the same love of truth and indifferency that I did. However, I cannot but be pleased that you think so well of it; for whether your friendship to me bribes your judgment, or whether your good opinion of my essay adds to your kind thoughts of the author; I find my account both ways, and should think myself well rewarded for my pains in this single purchase. But, sir, will you not pardon so lawful a desire, in one that loves you, if I ask, shall I never have the happiness to see you in England?

Mr. Churchill, my bookseller, sends me word by the last post, that he has sent you the six copies that you sent for, and advice of it. I sent to him a project of a new reduction of the year by Dr. Wood, to be sent with the copy of my essay to you. The author gave it me himself, and I thought it might possibly please you, if you had not seen it before. This, with the supernumerary cuts I ordered him to send you, will, with the books, I hope, come safe to your hands. The mentioning of those cuts puts me in mind again of your civility, which I see studies all manner of ways of expressing itself.

You see, by this liberty I take with you, that I am past terms of compliment with you, that is, I use you as one I look upon to be my friend, with a freedom of good offices, either to receive or do them, as it happens. Look upon me as such, I beseech you, and believe that I am, with the utmost sincerity,

SIR,

Your most affectionate friend,

and most humble servant,

John Locke.

Will. Molyneux

Dec. 18, 1694

Dublin

Locke

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

Sir,

Dublin,

Dec. 18, 1694.

YOURS, of November 23, found me labouring under a sharp fever which has held me this month past; but I am now, God be thanked, pretty well recovered. I am obliged to you for the earnest desire you express of seeing me in England. But as to that particular, the truth is thus: last summer I designed to make a journey, on purpose to pay my respects to you, and for no other errand; but my resolutions were not so fixed as to give you any intimations thereof. For indeed the state of my health was so very uncertain, that I was very mistrustful whether I should be able to undertake the journey. However, I thought to make an essay of my strength in our own country; so that some business calling me about threescore miles from this city, the fatigue was so troublesome to me, that I was quite discouraged from thinking of England that season. I have now had another pull-back by my present sickness, so that I cannot yet well tell how to think of the other side of the water. This only I will assure you, that the first entire health God is pleased to bestow on me shall be employed in a journey towards you; there being nothing I so earnestly covet as the personal acquaintance of one for whom I have so great a respect and veneration, to whom I am so highly obliged for many favours.

There is a very worthy person, Dr. St. George Ashe, provost of the college here, lately gone from hence to London; he is a great admirer, and zealous promoter, of your writings in his college. He desired from me a letter of recommendation to you; but I fear your being in the country will hinder his designed happiness in your conversation. He stays in London these three or four months to come, in which time, if your business call you to the city, you will hear of him either at your lodgings at Mr. Pawlin’s, (where perhaps he will leave the place of his residence,) or at Mr. Tucker’s, in the secretary’s office at Whitehall, where a penny-post letter will find him out.

I thank you for the care you have taken to send me the books and sculptures, which I hope to receive in good time, having advice thereof already from Mr. Churchill. I am,

Worthy Sir,

Your most affectionate, humble servant,

Will. Molyneux.

January 15, 1694-5

Dublin

Locke

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

Dublin,

January 15, 1694-5.

Honoured Sir,

I HAVE received the six copies of your book, and thank you for the care you have taken about them. I acknowledge myself likewise obliged to you for your present of Dr. Wood’s almanack, though it was not new to me, having received the favour of one from the author himself, when accomptant-general here in Ireland, many years ago. It is a very pretty project, but, I believe, it will hardly ever be practised; because men think what they have already sufficiently accurate for the common uses of life, and are hardly brought from what they have used, so long as they have done the common Julian account, unless prevailed upon by some such potent authority as the church, which abrogated the Julian, and established the Gregorian kalendar.

The sculptures also I received, and thank you for them. I shall do them all the honour that outward ornament can give them. And I heartily wish I had more effectual ways of showing my respects, which I think I can never do sufficiently.

I have ever thought that an elegant translation of your Essay into Latin would be highly acceptable to foreigners, and of great use in those countries, whose minds lie yet captivated in verbose, disputative philosophy, and false reasoning; I therefore presume to mention it to you, that though your own leisure may not permit you to perform it yourself, you may think of putting some one on it, that under your eye may do it correctly. And were I not persuaded that your own eye and correction were absolutely requisite herein, I would venture to make a bold proposal to have it done by some one in this place, whom I should reward for his labour herein. And this I do, not that I think you may not with a great deal of ease employ one yourself in this matter, but merely that herein I may have an opportunity of doing so much good in the world. You see, sir, what a veneration I have for your writings, and therefore you will pardon me, if I desire from you, “sub amicitiæ tesserâ,” the names of what books you have published. I remember, once I proposed to you the like request, and you were silent to it. If it were that you designedly conceal them, I acquiesce; but perhaps it proceeded from your cursory passing over that part of my letter, which makes me venture again on the same request. And now that your thoughts are at liberty from that essay, you will give me leave, with all submission, to mind you of what you once told me you would think of, viz. of demonstrating morals. I am sure, as no hand could perform it better; so no age ever required it more than ours.

I do heartily wish you an happy succeeding year; and may it end with us happier than the last past. I am,

Dear Sir,

Your most obliged, humble servant,

Will. Molyneux.

John Locke

8 Mar. 1694-5

Oates

Molyneux

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

Dear Sir,

Oates,

8 Mar. 1694-5.

YOU will, I fear, think me frozen up with this long winter, or else with a negligence colder than that, having two very obliging letters of yours by me, the one ever since January, the other February last, I make you no answer to either, till thus far in March. The truth is, expecting ever since I received your last letter an account from London, concerning something I had a mind to put into my letter, and after writing four times about it, being yet delayed, I can forbear no longer to return you my thanks, and to beg your pardon that I have been so slow in it. If you interpret it right, you will look upon it as the effect of a friendship got past formalities, and that has confidence enough to make bold with you, where it is without neglect of you, or prejudice to either. I was not a little rejoiced with the news you sent me in the first of your letters, of your safe recovery of a fever. Had I known it before the danger was over, that you had been ill, it would have been no small fright and pain to me. For I must assure you that, amongst all the friends your kindness or worth has procured you, there is not any one who values you more than I do, or does more interest himself in all your concerns. This makes me, that though I have a long time extremely desired to see you, and propose to myself an infinite satisfaction in a free conversation with you; yet what you tell me, that you were coming last summer into England, to make me a visit, makes me dread the satisfaction of my own wishes. And methinks I ought not to purchase one of the greatest happinesses I can propose to myself at so dear and dangerous a rate. I have received many and great obligations from you before; but they were such as, though I had no title to, I thought I might accept from one whom I love, and therefore was glad to find kind to me. But when I reflect on the length of the way, and the sea between us, the danger of the one, and the fatigue of both, and your no very robust constitution, as I imagine, I cannot consent you should venture so much for my sake. If any harm should happen to you in the journey, I could never forgive it myself, to be the occasion of so great a loss to the world and myself And if you should come safe, the greatness of the hazard, and an obligation out of all proportion to what I either ought to receive, or was capable to return, would overwhelm me with shame, and hinder my enjoyment. And yet, if I may confess my secret thoughts, there is not any thing which I would not give, that some other unavoidable occasion would draw you into England. A rational free-minded man, tied to nothing but truth, is so rare a thing, that I almost worship such a friend; but when friendship is joined to it, and these are brought into a free conversation, where they meet, and can be together; what is there can have equal charms? I cannot but exceedingly wish for that happy day, when I may see a man I have so often longed to have in my embraces. But yet, though it would endear the gift to receive it from his kindness, I cannot but wish rather that fortune alone would throw him into my arms.

This cold winter has kept me so close a prisoner within doors, that, ‘till yesterday, I have been abroad but once these three months, and that only a mile in a coach. And the inability I am in to breathe London air in cold weather has hindered me yet from the happiness of waiting on Dr. Ashe; but I hope to get to London before he leaves it, that I may, to a person whom you have an esteem for, pay some part of the respects I owe you. I had last week the honour of a visit from an ingenious gentleman, a member of your college at Dublin, lately returned from Turkey. He told me he was a kinsman of yours; and though his other good qualities might have made him welcome any-where, he was not, you may be sure, the less welcome to me, for being known and related to you. He seems to me to have been very diligent and curious in making observations whilst he has been abroad, and more inquisitive than most of our people that go into those parts. And, by the discourse I had with him the little time we were together, I promise myself we shall have a more exact account of those parts, in what I hope he intends to publish, than hitherto is extant. Dr. Huntington, who was formerly at Aleppo, and is my old acquaintance, and now my neighbour in this country, brought Mr. Smith hither with him from his house. But yet I must acknowledge the favour to you, and desire you to thank him for it when he returns to Dublin. For the friendship he knew you had for me, was, I take it, the great inducement that made him give himself the trouble of coming six or seven miles in a dirty country.

You do so attack me on every side with your kindness to my book, to me, to my shadow, that I cannot but be ashamed I am not in a capacity to make you any other acknowledgment, but in a very full and deep sense of it. I return you my thanks for the corrections you have sent me, which I will take all the care of I can in the next edition, which, my bookseller tells me, he thinks will be this summer. And if any other fall under your observation, I shall desire the continuance of your favour in communicating them.

I must own to you that I have been solicited from beyond sea to put my essay into Latin; but you guess right, I have not the leisure to do it. It was once translated by a young man in Holland into Latin; but he was so little master of the English or Latin tongue, that when it was showed me, which he did not till he had quite done it, I satisfied him that it would be very little for his credit to publish it; and so that was laid by. Since that, my bookseller was, and had been for some time seeking for a translator, whom he would have treated with to have undertaken it, and have satisfied for his pains. But a little before the coming of your letter, he writ me word he had been disappointed, where he expected to have found one who would have done it, and was now at a loss. So that what you call a bold, is not only the kindest, but the most seasonable proposal you could have made. You understand my thoughts as well as I do myself, and can be a fit judge, whether the translator has expressed them well in Latin or no; and can direct him, where to omit or contract any thing where you think I have been more large than needed. And though in this I know you intend, as you say, some good to the world; yet I cannot but take it as a very particular obligation to myself, and shall not be a little satisfied to have my book go abroad into the world with strokes of your judicious hand to it. For, as to omitting, adding, altering, transposing any thing in it, I permit it wholly to your judgment. And if there be any thing in it defective, or which you think may be added with advantage to the design of the whole work, if you will let me know, I shall endeavour to supply that defect the best I can. The chapter “of Identity and Diversity” which owes its birth wholly to your putting me upon it, will be an encouragement to you to lay any the like commands upon me. I have had some thoughts myself, that it would not be possibly amiss to add, in lib. iv. ca, something about enthusiasm, or to make a chapter of it by itself. If you are of the same mind, and that it will not be foreign to the business of my essay, I promise you, before the translator you shall employ shall be got so far, I will send you my thoughts on that subject, so that it may be put into the Latin edition. I have also examined P. Malebranche’s opinion concerning “seeing all things in God;” and to my own satisfaction laid open the vanity, inconsistency, and unintelligibleness of that way of explaining human understanding. I have gone almost, but not quite through it, and know not whether I now ever shall finish it, being fully satisfied myself about it. You cannot think how often I regret the distance that is between us; I envy Dublin for what I every day want in London. Were you in my neighbourhood, you would every day be troubled with the proposal of some of my thoughts to you. I find mine generally so much out of the way of the books I meet with, or men led by books, that were I not conscious to myself that I impartially seek truth, I should be discouraged from letting my thoughts loose, which commonly lead me out of the beaten track. However, I want somebody near me, to whom I could freely communicate them, and without reserve lay them open. I should find security and ease in such a friend as you, were you within distance. For your judgment would confirm and set me at rest, where it approved; and your candour would excuse what your judgment corrected, and set me right in. As to your request you now repeat to me, I desire you to believe that there is nothing in your letters which I pass over slightly, or without taking notice of; and if I formerly said nothing to it, think it to be, that I thought it the best way of answering a friend, whom I was resolved to deny nothing that was in my power. There are some particular obligations that tie me up in the point, and which have drawn on me some displeasure for a time, from some of my friends, who made me a somewhat like demand. But I expect to find you more reasonable, and give you this assurance, that you shall be the first that shall be satisfied in that point. I am not forgetful of what you so kindly put me upon. I think nobody ought to live only to eat and drink, and count the days he spends idly. The small remainder of a crazy life I shall, as much as my health will permit, apply to the search of truth, and shall not neglect to propose to myself those that may be the most useful. My paper is more than done, and, I suppose, you tired, and yet I can scarce give off. I am,

Dear Sir,

Your most faithful humble servant,

John Locke.

Will. Molyneux

March 26, 1695

Dublin

Locke

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

Sir,

Dublin,

March 26, 1695.

THE concern you express for my welfare is extremely obliging, and I never prized my health so much as since thereby I am enabled to enjoy your correspondence and friendship. But whatever becomes of me and my carcase, I can heartily wish you had one more easy, healthful and strong. For I know mankind in general is interested in you; whereas I am sure to fall unlamented to all, save a few particular friends.

I understand my kinsman has enjoyed that which I have earnestly longed for. He tells me, by letter, the great obligations he bears you, for the civilities you showed him, and desires me to acknowledge them.

I am very glad to find your essay like to suffer a third impression; it is a good sign, and shows the world not so averse to truth, when fairly laid open. To have truth prevail, the only way is calmly and meekly to publish it, and let it shift for itself; “magna res est veritas & prævalebit.” It will make its own party good without fire and faggot, which never promoted, but, I am sure, has often stifled it.

This encourages me, with more vigour, to promote the translation of your work; and to own myself infinitely obliged to you, that you are pleased so readily to comply with the offer I made you in my last. Yesterday I sent for an ingenious young man in the college here to discourse with him about it. The result was, he would make an essay and show it me, and accordingly would proceed or desist. But then, he tells me, that he cannot set himself fully to it till towards the latter end of May; for he designs to stand candidate for a fellowship in the college, which, by the removal of the provost, is to be disposed of about next Trinity-sunday; and, in the mean time, he is to prepare himself for the examination they undergo on that occasion. I shall see his first attempt the next week, and shall give you an account. As to any alterations to be made by me, I should be very cautious of medling therein; I know the whole work has already undergone so exact a judgment, that there is no room left for amendments. However, if any such offer, after your approbation of them, I should venture to insert them.

I must freely confess, that if my notion of enthusiasm agrees with yours, there is no necessity of adding any thing concerning it, more than by the by, and in a single section in cha. lib. iv. I conceive it to be no other than a religious sort of madness, and comprises not in it any mode of thinking, or operation of the mind, different from what you have treated of in your essay. It is true, indeed, the absurdities men embrace on account of religion are most astonishing; and if in a chapter of enthusiasm, you endeavour to give an account of them, it would be very acceptable. So that (on second thoughts) I do very well approve of what you propose therein, being very desirous of having your sentiments on any subject.

Pere Malebranche’s chapter “of seeing all things in God,” was ever to me absolutely unintelligible; and unless you think a polemic discourse in your essay (which you have hitherto avoided therein) may not be of a piece with the rest, I am sure it highly deserves to be exposed, and is very agreeable to the business of your work. I would therefore humbly propose it to you, to consider of doing something therein. Pere Malebranche has many curious notions, and some as erroneous and absurd. It is a good while since I read him; but I am now turning him over a second time; he is mostly platonic, and, in some things, almost enthusiastical. I am,

Honoured dear Sir,

Your most obliged humble servant,

Will. Molyneux.

John Locke

April 26, 1695

Oates

Molyneux

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

Sir,

Oates,

April 26, 1695.

YOU look with the eyes, and speak the language of friendship, when you make my life of much more concern to the world than your own. I take it, as it is, for an effect of your kindness, and so shall not accuse you of compliment; the mistakes and over-valuings of good will being always sincere, even when they exceed what common truth allows. This on my side, I must beg you to believe, that my life would be much more pleasant and useful to me, if you were within my reach, that I might sometimes enjoy your conversation, and upon twenty occasions, lay my thoughts before you, and have the advantage of your judgment. I cannot complain that I have not my share of friends of all ranks, and such, whose interest, assistance, affection, and opinions too, in fit cases, I can rely on. But methinks, for all this, there is one place vacant, that I know nobody that would so well fill as yourself; I want one near me to talk freely with, “de quolibet ente;” to propose to the extravagancies that rise in my mind; one with whom I would debate several doubts and questions, to see what was in them. Meditating by one’s self, is like digging in the mine; it often, perhaps, brings up maiden earth, which never came near the light before; but whether it contains any metal in it, is never so well tried as in conversation with a knowing judicious friend who carries about with him the true touchstone, which is love of truth in a clear-thinking head. Men of parts and judgment the world usually gets hold of, and by a great mistake (that their abilities of mind are lost, if not employed in the pursuit of wealth or power) engages them in the ways of fortune and interest, which usually leave but little freedom or leisure of thought for pure disinterested truth. And such who give themselves up frankly, and in earnest to the full latitude of real knowledge, are not every-where to be met with. Wonder not, therefore, that I wish so much for you in my neighbourhood; I should be too happy in a friend of your make, were you within my reach. But yet I cannot but wish that some business would once bring you within distance; and it is a pain to me to think of leaving the world without the happiness of seeing you.

I do not wonder that a kinsman of yours should magnify civilities that scarce deserve the name; I know not wherein they consisted, but in being glad to see one that was any way related to you, and was himself a very ingenious man; either of those was a title to more than I did, or could show him. I am sorry I have not yet had an opportunity to wait on him in London, and I fear he should be gone before I an able to get thither. This long winter, and cold spring, has hung very heavy upon my lungs, and they are not yet in a case to be ventured in London air, which must be my excuse for not waiting upon him and Dr. Ashe yet.

The third edition of my essay has already, or will be speedily, in the press. But what perhaps, will seem stranger, and possibly please you better, an abridgment is now making (if it be not already done) by one of the university of Oxford, for the use of young scholars, in the place of the ordinary system of logic. From the acquaintance I had of the temper of that place, I did not expect to have it get much footing there. But so it is, I some time since received a very civil letter from one, wholly a stranger to me there, concerning such a design; and, by another from him since, I conclude it near done. He seems to be an ingenious man, and he writes sensibly about it, but I can say nothing of it till I see it; and he, of his own accord, has offered that it shall wholly be submitted to my opinion, and disposal of it. And thus, sir, possibly that which you once proposed may be attained to, and I was pleased with the gentleman’s design for your sake.

You are a strange man, you oblige me very much by the care you take to have it well translated, and you thank me for complying with your offer. In my last, as I remember, I told you the reason why it was so long before I writ, was an expectation of an answer from London, concerning something I had to communicate to you: it was in short this; I was willing to know what my bookseller would give for a good Latin copy; he told me, at last, twenty pounds. His delay was, because he would first have known what the translator demanded. But I forced him to make his proposal, and so I send it to you, to make what use of it you please. He since writ me word, that a friend of his at Oxford would, in some time, be at leisure to do it, and would undertake it. I bid him excuse himself to him, for that it was in hands I approved of, and some part of it now actually done. For I hope the essay (he was to show you the next week after you writ to me last) pleased you. Think it not a compliment, that I desire you to make what alterations you think fit. One thing particularly you will oblige me and the world in, and that is, in paring off some of the superfluous repetitions, which I left in for the sake of illiterate men, and the softer sex, not used to abstract notions and reasonings. But much of this reasoning will be out of doors in a Latin translation. I refer all to your judgment, and so am secure it will be done as is best.

What I shall add concerning enthusiasm, I guess, will very much agree with your thoughts, since yours jump so right with mine, about the place where it is to come in, I having designed it for cha. lib. iv. as a false principle of reasoning often made use of. But, to give an historical account of the various ravings men have embraced for religion, would, I fear, be besides my purpose, and be enough to make an huge volume.

My opinion of P. Malebranche agrees perfectly with yours. What I have writ concerning “seeing all things in God,” would make a little treatise of itself. But I have not quite gone through it, for fear I should by somebody or other be tempted to print it. For I love not controversies, and have a personal kindness for the author. When I have the happiness to see you, we will consider it together, and you shall dispose of it.

I think I shall make some other additions to be put into your Latin translation, and particularly concerning the “connection of ideas,” which has not, that I know, been hitherto considered, and has, I guess, a greater influence upon our minds, than is usually taken notice of. Thus, you see, I make you the confident of my reveries; you would be troubled with a great many more of them, were you nearer. I am,

Honoured Sir,

Your most affectionate humble servant,

John Locke.

Will. Molyneux

May, 7, 1695

Dublin

Locke

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

Sir,

Dublin,

May, 7, 1695.

I AM extremely pleased to understand by yours of April 26, that we are to expect an abridgment of your work from a judicious hand in Oxford; it is what I always thought might be of good use in the universities, where we yet want another sort of language, than what has hitherto prevailed there, to the great hindrance of science.

As to the translation that is going on here, it is undertaken by one Mr. William Mullart, a senior bachelor in the college. He has the repute of an ingenious and learned young man, and I hope he may perform it well. I here enclose a specimen of his performance, concerning which I desire you would give me your thoughts, before he proceed much farther. This only may be hinted, that when he is better acquainted with the work, and your language, and has entered farther into it, it is probable his translation may be better, more easy and natural. He proposes to finish it in half a year, or nine months at farthest; for he cannot wholly disengage himself from some other studies. I perceive your bookseller is resolved to share with me in the good I thought to do the world, by bestowing on it this translation. And since he is so generous as to have it so, I will, by no means, be the translator’s hindrance in partaking of the bookseller’s proffer; and, at the same time, to engage his diligence the more, I will increase the reward considerably, that I may not wholly miss the good design I first proposed to myself. If you encourage the translator to go forward, you may be pleased to transmit to me the additions you design; as that of “enthusiasm,” “connexion of ideas,” and what else you have.

And now, with redoubled force, I send back to you the complaints you make for our distance. I cannot but hope, that Providence has yet in store for me so much happiness on this side the grave; and if it have not, I shall think I have missed the greatest temporal good my mind was ever set on. But I still say, I live in hopes, the accomplishment whereof would be the greatest satisfaction to

Your most cordially affectionate humble servant,

Will. Molyneux.

Were it not too nigh approaching to vanity, I could tell you of the extraordinary effects your method of education has had on my little boy.

John Locke

2 July, 1695

Oates

Molyneux

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

Dear Sir,

Oates,

2 July, 1695.

DID I not assure myself that our friendship were grown beyond suspicion or compliment, I should think I should have need to make excuses to you for my long silence; but I know you will credit me, when I tell you it has been neither forgetfulness nor negligence. The specimen of the translation you sent me, gave me some reason to apprehend, that Mr. Mullart’s style would lay too great a burthen on your kindness, by often needing the correction of your hand, to make it express my sense with that clearness and easiness, which I know you desire. My bookseller therefore having before told me of one who had offered to undertake the translation of my essay, I have been ever since endeavouring to get from him a specimen that I might send it you, and have your opinion which is like to do best; that so if this man had a talent that way, you might be eased of the trouble, which your friendship to me, and zeal to the work, I foresee, is likely to lay upon you. But, having the last post received this account from Mr. Churchill, that the gentleman proposed is in the country, and must have a book sent him down, on purpose, before we can expect to see any thing from him, and this being all to be managed by a third hand, who is not every day to be met with; I have resolved to lose no more time on that thought, but accepting of your kind offer, put that whole matter into your hands, to be ordered as you shall think best, and shall spend no more time in other enquiries, since the gentleman you propose will (as I remember you told me) be about this time at leisure to set himself in earnest to it. There is one thing I would offer, which may be of advantage to him and the work too, and that is, that he would constantly and sedulously read Tully, especially his philosophical works, which will insensibly work him into a good Latin style. I have heard it reported of bishop Sanderson, that being asked how he came to write Latin so well, as appears in the treatises he published in that tongue? he answered, “By ordering his studies so, that he read over all Tully’s works every year.” I leave it to you, whether you will think fit to mention this to Mr. Mullart.

The abridgment of my essay is quite finished. It is done by a very ingenious man of Oxford, a master of arts, very considerable for his learning and virtue, who has a great many pupils. It is done with the same design you had in view, when you mentioned it. He has generally (as far as I could remember) made use of my words; he very civilly sent it me when it was done, and, upon looking it over, I guess you will approve of it, and think it well done. It is in Mr. Churchill’s hands, and will be printed as soon as the third edition of my essay, which is now in the press, is printed off.

I am extremely glad to hear that you have found any good effects of my method on your son. I should be glad to know the particulars; for though I have seen the success of it in a child of the lady, in whose house I am, (whose mother has taught him Latin without knowing it herself when she began,) yet I would be glad to have other instances; because some men, who cannot endure any thing should be mended in the world by a new method, object, I hear, that my way of education is impracticable. But this I can assure you, that the child above mentioned, but nine years old in June last, has learned to read and write very well, is now reading Quintus Curtius with his mother, understands geography and chronology very well, and the Copernican system of our vortex; is able to multiply well, and divide a little; and all this without ever having had one blow for his book. The third edition is now out: I have ordered Mr. Churchill to send you one of them, which I hope he has done before this. I expect your opinion of the additions, which have much increased the bulk of the book. And though I think all that I have said right; yet you are the man I depend on for a fair and free censure, not inclined either to flatter, or quarrel. You know not of what value a knowing man, that is a sincere lover of truth, is, nor how hard to be found; wonder not, therefore, if I place a great part of my happiness in your friendship, and wish every day you were my neighbour; you would then find what use I should make of it. But, not to complain of what cannot be remedied, pray let me have all the advantage I can at this distance. Read the additions and examine them strictly, for I would not willingly mislead the world. Pray let me know whether the doctor, your brother, has any children; when he has, I count I owe him one of my books of education.

With my treatise of education, I believe you will receive another little one concerning interest and coinage. It is one of the fatherless children, which the world lay at my door; but, whoever be the author, I shall be glad to know your opinion of it.

And now I must mightily bemoan the loss of an happiness which you designed me, and I through great misfortune missed. The impressions of the last severe winter on my weak lungs, and the slow return of warm weather this spring, confined me so long to the country, that I concluded Dr. Ashe would be gone before I should get to town, and I should lose the honour of so desired an acquaintance. However as soon as I was got to London, I enquired of Mr. Churchill, who told me Dr. Ashe was lately in town, and he promised me, as I desired him, that he would enquire whether he was still there, and where he lodged. He returned me no answer, and I (through a multitude of business) forgot to inquire again, for some few days. Upon the first thought of it again, I went to the secretary’s office at Whitehall, and not finding Mr. Tucker there, I went to his house, who told me that Dr. Ashe was that very morning gone out of town. The missing of him thus unluckily, when he had been within my reach, very much vexed me; and it looked, as if fortune had a mind sensibly to cross me, in what she knew I was extremely desirous of. I enquired too for Mr. Smith; but he, I heard was gone to Flanders before I came to town. It would have been more than ordinary satisfaction to me, to have conversed and made an acquaintance with so esteemed a friend of your’s as Dr. Ashe. I shall not be at quiet, till some business brings you into England to repair this loss, and brings me a satisfaction to the most earnest of all my desires. My decaying health does not promise me any long stay in this world; you are the only person in it, that I desire to see once, and to converse some time with, before I leave it. I wish your other occasions might draw you into England, and then let me alone to husband our time together; I have laid all that in my head already. But I talk my desires and fancies as if they were in view. I wish you all manner of happiness, and am,

Dear Sir,

Your most affectionate, and most faithful servant,

John Locke.

Pray present my humble service to Dr. Ashe, and excuse my misfortunate loss to him.

When you consider the length of this, you will find my late silence was not from a sparingness of speech, or backwardness to talk with you; I have more reason now to beg your pardon for my talkativeness than silence.

The additions I intend to make, shall be sent time enough for the translator.

Will. Molyneux

Aug, 24, 1695

Dublin

Locke

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

Sir,

Dublin,

Aug, 24, 1695.

I DEFERRED my answer all this while to yours of July 2, (which I received some weeks ago) in expectation of the books you have been pleased to order for me; but hitherto they are not arrived, and I would not omit my duty any longer, lest the business of our ensuing parliament should give me a farther hindrance. The university has done me the honour to choose me as one of their representatives; and though I cannot pretend to do them any great service, yet it shall not be for want of constant attendance on their business, which will take up most of my time, till the session is ended.

I am now at a great loss what apology to make you, for the disappointment you are at last like to receive in the translation of your essay. But to a candid and ingenuous man, the best excuse is a plain narrative of the matter of fact.

The gentleman whom I formerly mentioned to you, Mr. Mullart, went into the country about the middle of last June, and returned about a fortnight ago. When he went away, he assured me, he would make a considerable progress in the work, in a month or six weeks time; but he was taken ill for about a fortnight, and, at his return, I found he had scarce done four pages of the book. I found also, (as you rightly surmised,) that his style will hardly answer expectation; but this difficulty I thought might be overcome by time and application. But what to say to his very slow performance I cannot tell, or whether it may answer your, or your bookseller’s designs. But that which most of all discourages me, is, that the young man himself seems not very fond of the undertaking, but has fixed his thoughts on another pursuit. I formerly told you how he designed for a fellowship, had any at that time happened vacant, as there did none. But very lately there are two fellowships become void, and a third like to be so before the time of sitting for them, which is next June, 1696, and he tells me plainly, he must endeavour to get one of them; and that there will be at least five competitors, if not six, who are all his seniors; and therefore, he must use his utmost diligence, application and study in the intermediate time, to fit himself for the examination they undergo; and this, he says, will take up so much of his time, that he knows not whether he shall have any to spare for the translation.

I cannot well tell which way next to turn myself in this affair. I have but one anchor more, and that is not at hand immediately to use. There is a gentleman of my acquaintance, the greatest master of style of any I have known, who, I am confident, would perform this work to your utmost satisfaction; but he is not, at present, in town; and when he comes, (which, I expect, may be about Michaelmas next, as I have it from himself,) I make some doubt, whether his other avocations will permit him to undertake this. He is chancellor of the diocese of Down and Connor, and has also a private work of his own, in Latin, now fitting for the press, which he permits to run through my hands, as he goes on with it. When he comes to town, I will move him in it, if you will give me leave, and you shall know the event.

I am mightily pleased that your essay is abridged, though, for my own reading, I would not part with a syllable of it. However, others may not have so much leisure as to set on a large book, and for such the abridgment may be useful. It is to me no small argument of the curious genius of the English nation, that a work so abstract as yours should now suffer three impressions in so short a time.

I have already so much experience of your method of education, that I long to see your third edition. And since you put me upon it, (to whom I can refuse nothing in my power,) I will give you a short account of my little boy’s progress under it.

He was six years old about the middle of last July. When he was but just turned five, he could read perfectly well; and on the globes could have traced out, and pointed at all the noted parts, countries, and cities of the world, both land and sea. And by five and an half could perform many of the plainest problems on the globe, as the longitude and latitude, the antipodes, the time with them and other countries, &c. and this by way of play and diversion, seldom called to it, never chid or beaten for it. About the same age he could read any number of figures, not exceeding six places, break it as you please by cyphers or zeros. By the time he was six, he could manage a compass, ruler and pencil, very prettily, and perform many little geometrical tricks, and advanced to writing and arithmetic; and has been about three months at Latin, wherein his tutor observes as nigh as he can, the method prescribed by you. He can read a gazette, and, in the large maps of Sanson, show most of the remarkable places as he goes along, and turn to the proper maps. He has been shown some dogs dissected, and can give some little account of the grand traces of anatomy. And as to the formation of his mind, which you rightly observe to be the most valuable part of education; I do not believe that any child had ever his passions more perfectly at command. He is obedient and observant to the nicest particular, and at the same time sprightly, playful, and active.

But I will say no more; this may be tiresome to others, however pleasing to myself.

I have some thoughts of seeing England next spring, or summer; but the time I cannot prefix as yet, till I see how our affairs are like to go on in parliament, and whether we are like to have another session, and when. The other day I chanced to mention your name accidentally to his excellency my lord Capel, who thereupon expressed himself with the utmost respect and esteem for you. I am,

Honoured Sir,

Your most affectionate, humble servant,

Will. Molyneux.

John Locke

16 Nov. 1695

London

Molyneux

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

Sir,

London,

16 Nov. 1695.

THOUGH there be no man in the world that I so much long to see, as you; yet your last letter of the second instant, makes me afraid of your coming. Your kindness and expression in my favour, has painted me so in your fancy that I shall unavoidably fall many degrees in your esteem, when you find me come so much short of what you expected; “Paratus est mihi magnus adversarius, expectatio,” as I remember Tully somewhere says. One thing only I have to satisfy myself, viz. that whatever I may want of those qualities you ascribe to me, I have one that helps mightily to cover defects, and makes one acceptable, without the recommendation of great perfections; I mean friendship, true and sincere. This I can boast of to you, this I can bid you expect, and tell you, you shall not be deceived. Come then, but come with this resolution, that you will be content, that shall make up to you all those fine things which you imagine before hand, in a man whom you will readily find a plain honest, well-meaning man, who unbiassedly seeks truth, though it be but a very small part of it he has yet discovered.

I am very glad you approve of the additions to the third edition of my education; you are a father, and are concerned not to be deceived, and therefore I expect you will not flatter me in this point. You speak so well of that you have, that I shall take care to have another of those treatises of interest and coinage sent to you. The affair of our money, which is in a lamentable state, is now under debate here: what the issue will be, I know not; I pray for a good one. I find every body almost looks on it as a mystery; to me there appears to be none at all in it. It is but stripping it of the cant which all men that talk of it involve it in, and there is nothing easier: lay by the arbitrary names of pence and shillings, and consider and speak of it as grains and ounces of silver, and it is as easy as telling of twenty.

I had a great deal more to say to you, in answer to this, and two other obliging letters, I am indebted to you for: but I am sent for into the country by an express. I am,

Sir,

Your most humble, and most affectionate servant,

John Locke.

20 Nov. 1695

Oates

Molyneux

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

Sir,

Oates,

20 Nov. 1695.

BEFORE I left London, I gave order that the book you desired about interest and money, should be sent you by the first opportunity. But it is to you I send it, and not to any body else; you may give it to whom you please, for it is yours as soon as you receive it; but pray do not give it to any body in my name, or as a present from me. And however you are pleased to make me a compliment, in making me the author of a book you think well of; yet you may be sure I do not own it to be mine, till you see my name to it.

You, I see, are troubled there about your money, as well as we are here; though, I hope, you are not so deep in that disease as we are. A little before his majesty’s return, the lords justices here had this matter under consideration; and amongst others, were pleased to send to me, for my thoughts about it. This is too publicly known here, to make the mentioning of it to you appear as vanity in me. The paper I here inclose, would seem a strange thing, did I not tell you the occasion of my writing it. And since some of my friends here persuade me, it gives some light to that which the statesman you mention, thinks so profound a mystery, I have taken the liberty to send it to you, either to open that matter a little farther to you, or that you may show me the mistakes and defects of it. But pray, whatever use you make of it, conceal my name.

I writ to you from London, just as I was leaving the town in haste, in answer to yours of the second instant. You must impute the faults of that to the hurry and disturbance I was then in. I am not much more at leisure or at quiet now; but shame will not suffer me to be silent any longer, under the obligation of two other letters I have by me of yours, unanswered.

I cannot read yours of the 24th of August last, without finding new marks of your kindness to me, in the concern you therein express to get a good hand for the translating my essay. I think at last you have got a better than I could have expected. I designed to have brought Mr. Churchill and him together, and settled that matter, before I left London; but I was so unexpectedly called thence, that I left that, and several other businesses, undone. But I took order with Mr. Churchill, my bookseller, to go to him; he is a reasonable man, and I doubt not but it will be taken care of, as well as if I were there. I think the abridgment is near, if not quite printed; but I had not the time, or memory, to inquire, after my hasty summons into the country. I was told too, when I was in town, that somebody is printing against it; if it be a fair inquirer, I shall be glad; if a wrangling disputant, I shall not mind him.

Mr. Burridge is the man you speak him to be, in yours of September 19. Had I staid in London, I think I should have been able to have procured him some particulars would have been of use to him, in his design. Some of them I have taken care he should receive, notwithstanding my absence. But perhaps they might have been more, could I have stayed till more of my acquaintance were come to town. I am now in an house of sorrow and business, which hinders me from that freedom I would be in, when I write to you. I am,

SIR,

Your most affectionate, humble servant,

John Locke.

Will. Molyneux

Dec. 24, 1695

Dublin

Locke

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

Sir,

Dublin,

Dec. 24, 1695.

I AM ashamed to say, that I have two of yours before me unanswered.

Yours of Nov. 20 brought me a paper, which, of all things I have ever seen on that subject, I most highly admire. You have therein revealed the whole mystery of money, exchange, trade, &c. which have hitherto been wrapped up in unintelligible cant, I believe, partly out of knavery, partly out of ignorance. You gave me liberty to make what use of it I pleased, and therefore I ventured to give a copy of it to his excellency, my lord deputy Capel, rather than the book of interest and coinage, which I thought might be too long for his present perusal, in his multitude of business. But I can tell you, that your admirable perspicuity of writing is so clearly different from all the world, and almost peculiar to yourself; that in vain you expect to be concealed, in any thing that comes from you. For I assure you, in some discourse I had with his excellency, no longer ago than yesterday, concerning the business of money; he asked me (without any occasion given him from me) whether I had ever seen Mr. Locke’s book of interest, &c.? for he has formerly known (as I think I have told you) that I had the happiness of your acquaintance; I replied to his lordship, that I had seen such a book, but that it did not bear your name in it: he answered me: the printer presented it to him as yours; and besides (says he) all the world knows Mr. Locke’s way of writing; and, if I may guess, I believe the paper you gave me a few days ago, came from Mr. Locke; pray, did it not? I told his excellency I was under some obligation to conceal the author. That’s enough, (says he,) I am sure it is his, and will put his name to it, and lay it up amongst my choicest papers.

I have lately received three small prints from London, concerning the subject of money. They were enclosed in a blank wrapper, and franked to me by sir Walter Yonge, bart. a gentleman whom I never saw, and have no manner of acquaintance with. I wonder how he comes to confer an obligation on me so suitable and agreeable to my present thoughts. If you have any hand in this favour to me, be pleased to accept of my thanks, and to express the same to sir Walter. The titles of those papers are,

“Sir W. Petty’s Quantulumcunque, concerning money.”

“A letter from an English merchant at Amsterdam to his friend at London, concerning the trade and coin of England.”

“Some questions answered, relating to the badness of the now silver coin of England.”

I hear Mr. Lowndes of the Treasury has published something on that subject, and that Mr. Flamstead has answered him, in a tract he calls Five, not Six.

I wish I could see them both, and shall beg the favour of you, if this letter finds you at London, to get them beaten pretty close, and wrapped up in folds, and directed to me, unless they be much too bulky for the post. You need not have them franked, for our letters come to us so, as we are of the parliament here.

I herewith send you enclosed the copy of a letter from an ingenious man, on the problem which you have honoured with a place in page 67, of your essay. You will find thereby, that what I say, of its puzzling some ingenious men, is true: and you will easily discover by what false steps this gentleman is led into his errour. The letter was communicated to me by the party to whom it was writ, Dr. Quayl. And the writer of the letter, Mr. Edw. Synge, is the author of a little book called The Gentleman’s Religion, which is vended as yours. The gentleman is on a second part, which he will show me, before he sends it to the press. But this is only between ourselves and the bookseller, who has been lately informed of thus much already. For though the book shows not that freedom of thought, as you or I, perhaps, may expect; yet it shows enough to incense his own herd against him; for there is little of mystery or enthusiastic in it, and yet the author is a clergyman. And you know that, in a writer on a religious subject, it is an high offence, even to be silent on those abstruse points. The clergy are not dissatisfied only with those that plainly oppose them, but are enraged also, even at those that omit zealously to advance them; as we have had a late instance in him, that writes against the Reasonableness of Christianity.

I should be mighty glad to hear that Mr. Burridge had set upon translating your essay: I believe he will do it well.

I shall be also very much obliged by any information you give me of whatsoever is done, or doing by yourself, or others, relating to your works, of which there is none a more devoted admirer, than the excellent author’s

Most affectionate, humble servant,

Will. Molyneux.

Edw. Synge

Sept. 6, 1695

Cork

Quayl

MR. SYNGE TO DR. QUAYL.

Dear Sir,

Cork,

Sept. 6, 1695.

MR. MOLYNEUX’s ingenious question, of which you gave me an account at Mr. Lukey’s yesterday, has run so much in my mind ever since, that I could scarce drive it out of my thoughts. To be revenged on you therefore for putting my brains in such a ferment, I have resolved to be so impertinent, as to send you the result of my meditations upon the subject.

The case is this: a man born perfectly blind has a globe and a cube given into his hands, and instructed, as much as he is capable of, in the notion of each of these figures, and the difference between them. Let us now suppose this man suddenly to be endowed with the sense of seeing, and the question is, “Whether, the globe and the cube being placed before his eyes, he would be able, by his sight alone, and without touching them, to tell which was the globe, and which the cube?”

For the better understanding of what I shall say on this question, I desire you to take notice, that I call every notion of any thing, which a man entertains, an idea; but that notion only, which a man entertains of a visible thing, as it is visible, I call an image.

This being premised, I lay down these propositions.

A man born blind may have a true (though perhaps not a perfect) idea of a globe and of a cube, and of some difference, which is between them.

This evidently appears, because he will certainly be able, by his touch, to distinguish them one from the other.

A man who has ever been perfectly blind, and whilst he so remains, can have no image in his mind, either of a cube, or a globe.

This, in my opinion, is very evident, because, there is no passage but the organs of sight (of which we suppose him to be deprived) for such an image to enter: and I take it for granted, that such images are not innate in men’s apprehensions.

Such a man, as soon as he is endowed with the sense of seeing, will immediately have a different image in his mind, of a globe, and of a cube, as they are exposed to his sight.

This must needs be so, if his sight and the organs thereof be such as ours, which we suppose.

And if immediately, upon the sight of the globe and cube, there be grounds enough for such a person clearly to perceive the agreement, and the difference, between his pre-conceived ideas, and newly conceived images of those figures, then may he be able to know which is the globe, and which the cube, without touching them again after he has seen them.

For the agreement which he may find between his idea and his image of a globe, and the difference of the idea of a globe from the image of a cube (“& sic vice versâ”) will be a sufficient direction to him. (If, I say, there be sufficient ground immediately to perceive the said agreement and difference.)

The idea which such a blind man must needs, by his touch alone, form of a globe, will be this, that it is a body which is exactly alike on all sides.

For let him roll it, as often as he will, between his hands, and he can find no manner of difference between the one side and the other.

Part of the idea which such a man must needs, by his touch, conceive of a cube, will be, that it is a body which is not alike in every part of its superficies.

For in one part he feels a smooth flat, in another the sharp point of an angle, and in a third a long ridge, which reaches from one angle to another.

The image, which at the first sight such a man will form of a globe, must needs represent it as a body which is alike on all sides, which consequently must be agreeable to the idea which he before had of it, and different from that idea which he had of a cube.

For turn a globe ten thousand ways, and it still carries the same aspect, if it be all of the same colour, which we now suppose.

The image, which upon the first view such a man will frame of a cube, must needs be this, that it is a body, which is not alike in all the parts of its superficies, which consequently must be agreeable to the idea which before he had of it, and different from that idea which he had of a globe.

For a cube does not carry the same aspect, when it is exposed to our sight in different positions.

Since then the image, which such a man would have of a globe, would be agreeable to the idea which before he had conceived of it, and different from that idea which before he had entertained of a cube (“& sic vice versâ”) it follows, that by his sight alone he might be able to know which was the globe, and which the cube.

I have no more, but to wish you a good journey, and tell you, that if you call me impertinent for sending you my thoughts upon such a speculation, I will retort, and tell that it was yourself who put the question to

Your most affectionate friend, and faithful servant,

Edw. Synge.

Will. Molyneux

March 14, 1695-6

Dublin

Locke

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

Sir,

Dublin,

March 14, 1695-6.

AS nothing is more pleasing to me than a letter from you; so my concern is not little, when in so long a time I have wanted that satisfaction; and more especially so, when I have reason to fear it may proceed from your indisposition in health. The last letter I had from Mr. Churchill intimated to me, that you were not well, and I have not yet received any account to the contrary; so that my fears daily increase upon me, and I shall be very uneasy, ‘till I receive the glad tidings of your recovery and safety.

Mr. Lowndes’s book about our coin, and yours against him, (which I understand you have sent me, and for which I most heartily thank you,) are not yet arrived; when they come, you shall hear farther from me concerning them.

I have lately received a letter from Mr. Burridge, who is gone down to his cure in the country; he takes all opportunities of thanking you for the civil reception you gave him; and as it was upon my recommendation, I must also thank you for my share in the favour. He tells me he has read over your essay carefully, and has just set upon the translation thereof; but he has not yet sent me any specimen thereof: when he does, you shall receive it forthwith from me. I doubt not but he will perform it to your satisfaction; there is not a man in Ireland, but himself, for whom I dare promise so boldly in this matter. One thing he intimates to me, which I must needs mention to you, as being so agreeable to the apprehensions I have always had of the excellent author of the essay, to whom I have sometimes presumed to propose it, viz. that he would write a book of offices, or moral philosophy. I give you Mr. Burridge’s own words, who goes on, “The fine strokes which he has frequently in his essay, make me think he would perform it admirably, I wish you would try his inclinations; you may assure him, I will cheerfully undertake the translation of it afterwards.”

Thus you see, sir, how you are attacked on all sides; I doubt not but you have as frequent solicitations from your friends in England. I will, at this time, add nothing more to the troublesome importunity. Only on this occasion I will venture to tell you, that I have a design on Mr. Burridge, to get him, by degrees, to translate all the books you have written, and will give leave for. I am,

Honoured Sir,

Your most affectionate, humble servant,

Will. Molyneux.

John Locke

March 30, 1696

Oates

Molyneux

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX

Sir,

Oates,

March 30, 1696.

THOUGH I have been very ill this winter, not without some apprehensions of my life, yet I am ashamed that either that, or business, that has taken up more of my time than my health could well allow, should keep me so long silent, to a man so kindly concerned to hear from me. It was more than once that I resolved on the next post, but still something or other came between; and I more readily yielded to delays, in hopes to hear something from you, concerning my answer to Mr. Lowndes. If this be a fault in me, it is such an one that I am guilty of to nobody but my friends. Perhaps the running from ceremony, or punctuality, towards those whom I look on as my sure friends, that is, myself, may sometimes carry me a little too far to the other side. But if you disapprove of it, I shall only say, it is an ill effect of a very good cause; and beg you to believe, that I shall never be tardy in writing, speaking or doing, whenever I shall think it may be of any moment to the least interest of yours.

The business of our money has so near brought us to ruin, that, ‘till the plot broke out, it was every body’s talk, every body’s uneasiness. And, because I had played the fool to print about it, there was scarce a post wherein somebody or other did not give me fresh trouble about. But now the parliament has reduced guineas to two-and-twenty shillings a-piece after the 10th instant, and prohibited the receipt of clipped money, after the 4th of May next. The bill has passed both houses, and, I believe, will speedily receive the royal assent. Though I can never bethink any pains, or time of mine, in the service of my country, as far as I may be of any use; yet I must own to you, this, and the like subjects, are not those which I now relish, or that do, with most pleasure, employ my thoughts; and therefore shall not be sorry, if I escape a very honourable employment, with a thousand pounds a year salary annexed to it, to which the king was pleased to nominate me some time since. May I have but quiet and leisure, and a competency of health to perfect some thoughts my mind is sometimes upon, I should desire no more for myself in this world, if one thing were added to it, viz. you in my neighbourhood. You cannot imagine, how much I want such a friend within distance, with whom I could confer freely “de quolibet ente,” and have his sense of my reveries, and his judgment to guide me.

I am ashamed to receive so many thanks for having done so little for a man who came recommended to me by you. I had so little opportunity to show the civility I would have done to Mr. Burridge, that I should not know how to excuse it to you, or him, were not he himself a witness of the perpetual hurry I was in, all the time I was then in town. I doubt not at all of his performance in the translation of my book he has undertaken. He has understanding, and Latin, much beyond those who usually meddle with such works. And I am so well satisfied, both of his ability and your care, that the sending me a specimen I shall look on as more than needs. As to a “treatise of morals,” I must own to you that you are not the only persons (you and Mr. Burridge, I mean) who have been for putting me upon it; neither have I wholly laid by the thoughts of it. Nay, I so far incline to comply with your desires, that I, every now and then, lay by some materials for it, as they occasionally occur, in the rovings of my mind. But when I consider, that a book of offices, as you call it, ought not to be slightly done, especially by me, after what I have said of that science in my essay; and that “nonumque prematur in annum,” is a rule more necessary to be observed in a subject of that consequence, than in any thing Horace speaks of; I am in doubt, whether it would be prudent, in one of my age and health, not to mention other disabilities in me, to set about it. Did the world want a rule, I confess there could be no work so necessary, nor so commendable. But the gospel contains so perfect a body of ethics, that reason may be excused from that inquiry, since she may find man’s duty clearer and easier in revelation, than in herself. Think not this the excuse of a lazy man, though it be, perhaps, of one who, having a sufficient rule for his actions, is content therewith, and thinks he may, perhaps, with more profit to himself, employ the little time and strength he has, in other researches, wherein he finds himself more in the dark.

You put too great a value on my writings, by the design you own on Mr. Burridge, in reference to them. I am not to flatter myself, that, because they had the good luck to pass pretty well here, amongst English readers, that therefore they will satisfy the learned world, and be fit to appear in the learned language. Mr. Wynne’s abstract of my essay is now published, and I have sent order to Mr. Churchill to send you one of them. Thus far in answer to yours of the 14th of March. I come now to that of the 24th of December.

My lord deputy and you did too great honour to the paper I sent you, and to me, upon that account. I know too well the deficiency of my style, to think it deserves the commendations you give it. That which makes my writings tolerable, if any thing, is only this, that I never write for any thing but truth, and never publish any thing to others, which I am not fully persuaded of myself, and do not think that I understand. So that I never have need of false colours to set off the weak parts of an hypothesis, or of obscure expressions, or the assistance of artificial jargon, to cover an errour of my system, or party. Where I am ignorant (for what is our knowledge?) I own it. And though I am not proud of my errours; yet I am always ready and glad to be convinced of any of them. I think there wants nothing, but such a preference of truth to party-interest and vain-glory, to make any body out-do me, in what you seem so much to admire.

Though sir Walter Yonge be an intimate friend of mine, yet I can assure you, I know nothing of those three prints he franked you, and so have no title to any part of your thanks.

I see by Mr. S.’s answer to that which was originally your question, how hard it is for even ingenious men to free themselves from the anticipations of sense. The first step towards knowledge is to have clear and distinct ideas; which I have just reason, every day more and more, to think few men ever have, or think themselves to want; which is one great cause of that infinite jargon and nonsense which so pesters the world. You have a good subject to work on; and therefore, pray let this be your chief care, to fill your son’s head with clear and distinct ideas, and teach him on all occasions, both by practice and rule, how to get them, and the necessity of it. This, together with a mind active and set upon the attaining of reputation and truth, is the true principling of a young man. But to give him a reverence for our opinions, because we taught them, is not to make knowing men, but prattling parrots. I beg your pardon for this liberty; it is an expression of good-will, and not the less so, because not within the precise forms of good-breeding. I am,

Dear Sir,

Your most affectionate, humble servant,

John Locke.

Will. Molyneux

June 6, 1696

Dublin

Locke

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

Honoured Sir,

Dublin,

June 6, 1696.

IT is a melancholy thought to me, that since I have had the happiness of your correspondence, there has hardly happened a year, when both you and I have not made it an apology for our long silence, that we have been indisposed in our health; yet it has pleased God, that so it has been, and so it is on my side at present. About four years and a half ago I was first seized by a violent colic, which then so weakened me, that, to this time, I lie so far under the effects thereof, as upon any cold to be very apt to relapse into the same. And so it has been with me, for a while past; but now, God be thanked, I am again well recovered. I had not otherwise so long deferred my answer to yours of March the 30th, which, after a long silence, brought me the assurance of your health, and therewith no small satisfaction; having, before that, entertained some painful thoughts of your indisposition, from some rumours I had heard. But, I find, heaven is not yet so angry with us, as to take you from amongst us.

And now I most heartily congratulate you, both on the recovery of your health, and on the honourable preferment you have lately received from his majesty. In your writings concerning money, you have given such demonstrative proofs of your reach, even in the business of the world, that I should have wondered, had the king overlooked you. And I do as much wonder, that, after what you have published on that subject, there should remain the least doubt with any man, concerning that matter. But, I fancy, it is only those who are prejudiced by their interest, that seem to be dissatisfied; such as bankers, &c. who made a prey of the people’s ignorance in this great affair. But, I think, you have cleared up the mystery, and made it so plain to all men’s capacities, that England will never again fall into the like inconveniencies. ‘Till you writ, we used money as the Indians do their wampompeek; it served us well enough for buy ng and selling, and we were content and heeded it no farther; but for the intimate nature, affections, and properties thereof, we did no more understand them than the Indians their shells.

I have read over Mr. Wynne’s abridgment of your essay. But I must confess to you, I was never more satisfied with the length of your essay, than since I have seen this abridgment; which, though done justly enough, yet falls so short of that spirit, which every-where shows itself in the original, that nothing can be more different. To one already versed in the essay, the abridgment serves as a good remembrancer: but, I believe, let a man, wholly unacquainted with the former, begin to read the latter, and he will not so well relish it. So that, how desirous soever I might have formerly been, of seeing your essay put into the form of a logic for the schools, I am now fully satisfied I was in an errour; and must freely confess to you, that I wish Mr. Wynne’s abridgment had been yet undone. That strength of thought and expression, that every-where reigns throughout your works, makes me sometimes wish them twice as long.

I find, by some little pieces I have lately met with, that you are the reputed author of the Reasonableness of Christianity; whether it be really so, or not, I will not presume to inquire, because there is no name to the book; this only I will venture to say, on that head, that whoever is the author, or vindicator thereof, he has gotten as weak an adversary in Mr. Edwards to deal with, as a man could wish; so much unmannerly passion, and billingsgate language, I have not seen any man use. In so much, that were Mr. Edwards to defend the best cause in the world, should he do it in that manner, he would spoil it. Were an angel of heaven to justify a truth, with virulence and heat, he would not prevail.

And now, my ever honoured friend, with much reluctance, I am to tell you, that I cannot be so happy this summer as to see you in England. It is needless to trouble you with a long detail of the reasons hereof; but what between my own private affairs, and a little place I have in the public, so it is, and I cannot help it. But as a small repair to myself of this disappointment, I shall beg the favour of you to admit a young gentleman, whom I shall send to you within a while, only to look on you, and afterwards look on a picture of yours, which I hear is at Mr. Churchill’s. The young gentleman’s name is Howard, a modest and ingenious youth, and excellently skilled both in the judicious and practical part of painting: for his advancement wherein, he is now kept at London, and designs soon for Italy. He is the eldest brother to my brother’s wife, of a good fortune and family. If, by his report, I understand that that picture of yours at Mr. Churchill’s be an excellent piece, and like you, he will procure it to be finely copied for me, and I may save you the trouble of sitting; but if it prove otherwise, and be not worth copying, I will then make it my request to you, that, at your leisure, you would spare me so many hours time, as to sit for such a hand as Mr. Howard shall procure to take your picture. This I thought fit to intimate to you before hand, that when he waits on you, you may be forewarned of his business.

I doubt not but, by this time, you have heard of our lord deputy Capel’s death. We are now under a most unsettled government, and our eyes are fixed on England for relief. Some here wish for your noble patron, my lord Pembroke; and go so far as to say, that he will be the man. I am confident we should be happy under one that favoured you; and if there be any thing in this report, you would highly favour me, by letting his lordship know, that here he will find me, amongst several others, that are your admirers; for that I reckon the most advantageous character I can come, recommended under, to his lordship.

Mr. Burridge has been lately so taken up with his ecclesiastic affairs in the country, that (as he writes me word) he has hitherto made but little farther progress in the translation of the essay, but he promises now to set about it earnestly. I wish you would give me your free opinion of what I have already sent you thereof.

I fear your public business will, in some measure, take you off from your more retired thoughts, by which the world were gainers every day. But, good sir, let me intreat you, that, at your leisure hours, you would think on, and send a line to

Your most affectionate, and humble servant,

Will. Molyneux.

John Locke

July 2, 1696

London

Molyneux

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

Sir,

London,

July 2, 1696.

I CANNOT, without great trouble, hear of any indisposition of yours: your friendship, which heaven has bestowed on me, as one of the greatest blessings I can enjoy, for the remainder of my life, is what I value at so high a rate, that I cannot consider myself within danger of losing a person, every way so dear to me, without very great uneasiness of mind.

Thus far I got, when I sat down to write to you, about a month since, as you will see by the date at the top; business, and a little excursion into the country, has hindered me ever since. Were you a man I only cared to talk with, out of civility, I should sooner answer your letters. But, not contenting myself with such formal correspondence with you, I cannot find in my heart to begin writing to you, ‘till I think I shall have time to talk a great deal, and pour out my mind to a man, to whom I make sure I can do it with freedom; his candour and friendship allow that, and I find I know not what pleasure in doing it. I promised myself abundance of pleasure this summer, in seeing you here, and the disappointment is one of the most sensible I could have met with, in my private concerns; and the occasion, that robbed me of that satisfaction, frights me. I have, I thank God, now as much health, as my constitution will allow me to expect. But yet, if I will think like a reasonable man, the flattery of my summer vigour ought not to make me count beyond the next winter, at any time for the future. The last sat so heavy upon me, that it was with difficulty I got through it; and you will not blame me, if I have a longing to see and embrace a man I esteem and love so much, before I leave this silly earth; which, when the conveniencies of life are moderately provided for, has nothing of value in it equal to the conversation of a knowing, ingenious, and large-minded friend, who sincerely loves and seeks truth.

When I took pen in hand to continue this letter, I had yours of March and June last before me, with a design to answer them. But my pen run on, as you see, before I could get leave of my forward thoughts, to come to what was my chief business, viz. to read again and answer those kind letters of yours.

That of March 28, brought me a sample of Mr. Burridge’s translation: upon my reading of it, I began to correct it after my fashion, and intended to have gone through that, and so all the rest of the sheets, as they came to my hand: but some other more pressing occasion interrupted me, and now I am past all hopes to have any leisure at all to do any thing more to it in that kind, and must wholly leave it to his and your care. When I say your care, I do not make so ill an use of your kindness, as to expect you should look it over and correct it; but I doubt not but you have such an interest in your college, that you can have the assistance of some able man there to do it. The subject itself, and my way of expressing my thoughts upon them, may, I doubt not, but be very different from the genius of the Latin tongue, and therefore I should not think it amiss, if Mr. Burridge would take more liberty to quit the scheme and phrase of my style, and so he takes but my sense, to comply more with the turn and manner of Tully’s philosophical language. For so he has but my sense, I care not how much he neglects my words; and whether he expresses my thoughts, you are as good judge as I, for I think you as much master of them. I say this to excuse you from the trouble of sending his papers over to me, as he dispatches them; for in my present circumstances I shall hardly have time so much as to peruse them. Pray, when you see, or send to him, give him my humble service.

Though your colic has done me no small prejudice, yet I am much more angry with it, upon the account of those inconveniencies it has made you suffer. I know you are in skilful, as well as careful hands, under the care of your brother, and it could not be advisable in any one to draw you from them. The colic is so general a name for pains in the lower belly, that I cannot from thence pretend to make any judgment of your case; but it can be no harm to advise you to ask him, whether he does not think that the drinking of our Bath waters may be useful to you in your case. I know those waters mightily strengthen those parts.

Your congratulation to me I take, as you meant, kindly and seriously, and it may be it is what another would rejoice in: but, if you would give me leave to whisper truth without vanity, in the ear of a friend, it is a preferment which I shall get nothing by, and I know not whether my country will, though that I shall aim at with all my endeavours.

Riches may be instrumental to so many good purposes, that it is, I think, vanity, rather than religion or philosophy, to pretend to contemn them. But yet they may be purchased too dear. My age and health demand a retreat from bustle and business, and the pursuit of some inquiries, I have in my thoughts, makes it more desirable than any of those rewards, which public employments tempt people with. I think the little I have enough, and do not desire to live higher, or die richer than I am. And therefore you have reason rather to pity the folly, than congratulate the fortune, that engages me in the whirlpool.

It is your pre-occupation, in favour of me, that makes you say what you do of Mr. Wynne’s abridgment; I know not, whether it be that, or any thing else, that has occasioned it; but I was told some time since, that my essay began to get some credit in Cambridge, where I think, for some years after it was published, it was scarce so much as looked into. But now I have some reason to think it is a little more favourably received there, by these two questions held there this last commencement; viz. “Probabile est animam non semper cogitare:” and, “Idea Dei non est innata.”

What you say of the Reasonableness of Christianity, gives me occasion to ask your thoughts of that treatise, and also how it passes amongst you there; for here, at its first coming out, it was received with no indifferency, some speaking of it with great commendation, but most censuring it as a very bad book. What you say of Mr. Edwards is so visible, that I find all the world of your mind.

This is now a third sitting before I finish this letter, whereby, I fear, I shall give you an ill picture of myself. By the reading of the next paragraph of your obliging letter of June 6, I am mightily comforted to find that it is not want of health (as it run in my head by a strong impression, I found remained in my mind, from the colic mentioned in the beginning of your letter) but business, that keeps me this year from the happiness of your company. This is much more tolerable to me than the other, and though I suffer by it, yet I can bear it the better, whilst there is room to hope it may be such, that both you and your country may receive advantage by it. Mr. Howard, whom I was resolving yesterday morning to inquire after, prevented me by a visit he made me, wherein he gave me an account he had received a letter from you, since his return from Cambridge. That which you desire of me, as the chief reason of affording me his acquaintance, is what I cannot refuse, and yet it causes in me some confusion to grant. If the original could do you any service, I shall be glad; but to think my picture worth your having, would carry too much vanity with it, to allow my consent, did not the skill of the painter often make amends for the meanness of the subject, and a good pencil frequently make the painted representation of more value than the real substance. This may probably be my case. Mr. Howard is a very pretty young gentleman, and I thank you for his acquaintance. I wish it lay in my power to do him any service, whilst he is here. If the length of my letter could be an excuse for the slowness of its coming, I have certainly made a very ample apology; though I satisfy myself neither in being silent so long, nor in tiring you with talking so much now; but it is from an heart wholly devoted to you. I am,

SIR,

Your most affectionate humble servant,

John Locke.

Aug. 4, 1696.

John Locke

12 Sept. 1696

London

Molyneux

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

Sir,

London,

12 Sept. 1696.

COULD the painter have made a picture of me, capable of your conversation, I should have sat to him with more delight, than ever I did any thing in my life. The honour you do me, in giving me thus a place in your house, I look upon as the effect of having a place already in your esteem and affection; and that made me more easily submit to what methought looked too much like vanity in me. Painting was designed to represent the gods, or the great men that stood next to them. But friendship, I see, takes no measure of any thing, but by itself: and where it is great and high, will make its object so, and raise it above its level. This is that which has deceived you into my picture, and made you put so great a compliment upon me; and I do not know what you will find to justify yourself to those who shall see it in your possession. You may, indeed, tell them the original is as much yours as the picture; but this will be no great boast, when the man is not more considerable than his shadow. When I looked upon it, after it was done, methought it had not that countenance I ought to accost you with. I know not whether the secret displeasure I felt whilst I was sitting, from the consideration that the going of my picture brought us no nearer together, made me look grave: but this I must own, that it was not without regret, that I remembered that this counterfeit would be before me, with the man, that I so much desired to be with, and could not tell him, how much I longed to put myself into his hands, and to have him in my arms. One thing pray let it mind you of, and when you look on it at any time, pray believe, that the colours of that face on the cloth, are more fading and changeable than those thoughts, which will always represent you to my mind, as the most valuable person in the world, whose face I do not know, and one whose company is so desirable to me, that I shall not be happy till I do.

Though I know how little service I am able to do; yet my conscience will never reproach me, for not wishing well to my country, by which I mean Englishmen, and their interest every-where. There has been, of late years, a manufacture of linen, carried on in Ireland, if I mistake not; I would be glad to learn from you the condition it is in; and if it thrives not, what are the rubs and hindrances that stop it. I suppose you have land very proper to produce flax and hemp, why could there not be enough, especially of the latter, produced there to supply his majesty’s navy? I should be obliged by your thoughts about it, and how it might be brought about. I have heard there is a law requiring a certain quantity of hemp to be sown every year: if it be so, how comes it to be neglected? I know you have the same public aims for the good of your country that I have, and therefore without any apology, I take this liberty with you. I received an account of your health, and your remembrance of me, not long since, by Mr. Howard, for which I return you my thanks. I troubled you with a long letter about the begining of the last month, and am,

SIR,

Your most affectionate, and most humble servant,

John Locke.

Will. Molyneux

Sept. 26, 1696

Dublin

Locke

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

Honoured Sir,

Dublin,

Sept. 26, 1696.

I HAVE now before me two of yours, one of August the 4th, and t’other of the 12th instant. I had sooner answered the former, but that I waited to give you an account of the farther progress of the translation, which Mr. Burridge faithfully promised me; and I lately understand from him, that he has gone through the three chapters of the first book. I must confess his avocations are many, and therefore his progress is not so quick as I could desire. But I am sure he will accomplish it, and that well too; and Mr. Churchill has told him that you say, “sat cito, si sat bene;” and he is very well pleased, that you give him time.

I do not wonder that your essay is received in the universities. I should indeed have wondered with indignation at the contrary; “magna est veritas & prævalebit.” We may expect a liberty of philosophizing in the schools: but that your doctrine should be soon heard out of our pulpits, is what is much more remarkable. He that, even ten years ago, should have preached, that “idea Dei non est innata,” had certainly drawn on him the character of an atheist; yet now we find Mr. Bentley very large upon it, in his sermons at Mr. Boyle’s lectures, serm. 1. , and serm. 3. , and Mr. Whiston, in his new theory of the earth, .

Mentioning these books minds me to intimate to you, that these ingenious authors agree exactly with you, in a passage you have in your thoughts of education, , 3d edit. § 192. “That the phenomenon of gravitation cannot be accounted for, by mere matter and motion, but seems an immediate law of the divine will so ordering it.” And you conclude that section thus, “reserving to a fitter opportunity, a fuller explication of this hypothesis, and the application of it to all the parts of the deluge, and any difficulties can be supposed in the history of the flood.” This seems to imply, that you have some thoughts of writing on that subject; it would be a mighty satisfaction to me, to know from you the certainty thereof. I should be very glad also to hear what the opinion of the ingenious is concerning Mr. Whiston’s book.

As to the “Reasonableness of Christianity,” I do not find but it is well approved of here, amongst candid unprejudiced men, that dare speak their thoughts. I’ll tell you what a very learned and ingenious prelate said to me on that occasion: I asked him whether he had read that book, and how he liked it; he told me, very well; and that if my friend Mr. Locke writ it, it was the best book he ever laboured at; but, says he, if I should be known to think so, I should have my lawns torn from my shoulders. But he knew my opinion aforehand, and was, therefore, the freer to commit his secret thoughts in that matter to me.

I am very sorry I can give you no better an account of the linen manufactures of late years set up in Ireland than what follows:

About the year 1692 (I think) one Mons. Du Pin came to Dublin from England, and here, by the king and queen’s letter and patents thereon, he set up a royal corporation for carrying on the linen manufacture in Ireland. Into this corporation many of the nobility and gentry were admitted, more for their countenance and favour to the project, than for any great help could be expected either from their purses or heads, to carry on the work. Du Pin himself was nominated under-governor, and a great bustle was made about the business; many meetings were held, and considerable sums advanced to forward the work, and the members promised themselves prodigious gains; and this expectation prevailed so far (by what artifices I cannot tell) as to raise the value of each share to 40 or 50 pounds, though but five pounds was paid by each member at first, for every share he had. At length artificers began to set at work, and some parcels of cloth were made, when on a sudden there happened some controversy between the corporation here in Ireland, and such another corporation established in England by London undertakers, and in which Du Pin was also a chief member. Much time was lost in managing this dispute, and the work began in the mean time to flag, and the price of the shares to lower mightily.

But, some little time before this controversy happened, some private gentlemen and merchants, on their own stock, without the authority of an incorporating patent, set up a linen manufacture at Drogheda, which promised, and thrived very well at first; and the corporation of Dublin, perceiving this, began to quarrel with them also, and would never let them alone till they embodied with them. These quarrels and controversies (the particulars whereof I can give you no account of, for I was not engaged amongst them, and I can get no one that was, who can give any tolerable account of them; I say they) grew so high, and Du Pin began to play such tricks, that all were discouraged, and withdrew as fast as they could. So that now all is blown up, and nothing of this kind is carried on, but by such as out of their own private purses set up looms and bleaching-yards. We have many of these in many parts of Ireland; and I believe no country in the world is better adapted for it, especially the north. I have as good diaper, made by some of my tenants, nigh Armagh, as can come to a table, and all other cloth for household uses.

As to the law for the encouraging the linen manufacture, it is this: In the 17th and 18th of Car. II. there was an act of Parliament made, “obliging all landlords and tenants to sow such a certain proportion of their holdings with flax, under a great penalty on both, on failure; and impowering the sheriffs to levy 20 pounds, in each of their respective counties, to be distributed at the quarter sessions, yearly, to the three persons who should bring in the three best webs of linen cloth, of such a length and breadth, 10l. to the first, 6l. to the second, and 4l. to the third.” This, whilst it lasted, was a great encouragement to the country people, to strive to out-do each other, and it produced excellent cloth all over the kingdom; but then it was but temporary, only for twenty years from passing the act, and is now expired. But that part of the act, “ordaining landlords and tenants to sow flax,” is perpetual; and I can give no reason why it is not executed; only this I can say, that the transgression is so universal, and the forfeiture thereon to the king is so severe, that if it were inquired into, I believe all the estates in Ireland would be forfeited to his majesty. So that now the multitude of sinners is their security. This statute you will find amongst the Irish acts, 17 & 18 Car. II. cha.

England, most certainly, will never let us thrive by the woollen trade; this is their darling mistress, and they are jealous of any rival. But I see not that we interfere with them, in the least, by the linen trade. So that that is yet left open to us to grow rich by, if it were well established and managed; but by what means this should be, truly I dare not venture to give my thoughts. There is no country has better land, or water, for flax and hemp, and I do verily believe the navy may be provided here, with sailing and cordage, cheaper by far than in England. Our land is cheaper, victuals for workmen is cheaper, and labour is cheaper, together with other necessaries for artificers.

I know not in what manner to thank you for the trouble you have been at, in sitting for your picture, on my account. It is a favour of that value, that I acknowledge myself extremely obliged to you for; and therefore I could not think that the expressions concerning it in your last belonged to me, did they come from one less sincere than yourself. “Painting, it is true, was designed to represent the gods and the great men, that stand next them;” and therefore it was, that I desired your picture. This, sir, is the real and sincere thought of

Your most obliged humble servant,

Will. Molyneux.

Jan. 5, 1696-7

Dublin

Locke

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

Sir,

Dublin,

Jan. 5, 1696-7.

IT is now three months since I ventured to trouble you with a letter; you may see thereby that I have a regard to the public business you are engaged in; but I have not been all this while without the satisfaction of hearing that you are well; for, as all my friends know, that I have the most respectful concern for you in the world; so they are not wanting, on all opportunities, from t’other side the water, to give me the acceptable tidings of your welfare. I have lately received a letter from Mr. Howard, that obliges me to make his acknowledgments for the favours he has received from you. This I can hardly do, without complaining of him at the same time, for not yet sending me your picture; but I suppose by this time, it is on the road hither, and I forgive him; and with all gratitude imaginable, return you my thanks on his account.

The enclosed piece of natural history I am desired by my brother to present to you, with his most affectionate humble service. If, upon perusing it, you think it may deserve it, you may send it by the penny-post to the Royal Society, to fill up an empty page in the Transactions. There is nothing to recommend it but its being exactly true, and an account of a non-descript animal. Formerly I had a constant correspondence with the secretary of the society, but of late it has failed; and therefore we take the liberty of sending this through your hands.

I have lately met with a book here of Mons. Le Clerc’s, called The Causes of Incredulity, done out of French. It is the same Le Clerc that writes Ontologia, and dedicates it to you. I find thereby you are his acquaintance and friend; I should be very glad you would be pleased to give me some account of that gentleman, and his circumstances in the world, if you know them. To me he seems an impartial and candid inquirer after truth, and to have the true spirit of christianity in that his book. The reason why I inquire after him, is, because I suppose him one of the refugees from France, and perhaps he may receive some encouragement to come into this kingdom. I am,

SIR,

Your most affectionate servant,

Will. Molyneux.

Feb. 3, 1696-7

Dublin

Locke

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

Sir,

Dublin,

Feb. 3, 1696-7.

AS I had reason to rejoice on the nation’s account, when you were first put on public business; so I find, on my own particular, I had cause to lament; for since that time (to my great concern) your letters have been less frequent, and the satisfaction I had in them abundantly diminished. Were I assured of the confirmed state of your health, I could more patiently submit to this; but knowing your sickly disposition, a month’s silence puts me in pain for you; and I am very uneasy under the apprehensions of any danger that may attend you. Favour me, therefore, good sir, though it were but a line or two, in the crowd of your business; for that itself would be some contentment to me, in the want of those noble philosophical thoughts which sometimes you were pleased to communicate to me.

And now, sir, I shall beg a favour of you a little out of our common road of correspondence. We have here lately received the certainty of Mr. Methwin’s being declared our lord chancellor; and truly, sir, all moderate and good men, I find, are very well pleased at it. I suppose, by your interest and acquaintance with my lord keeper of England, you have an acquaintance likewise with Mr. Methwin; and I beg the favour of you to mention me to him as your devoted friend and servant. I am sure, if he knows you rightly, I cannot be represented to him under a more advantageous character: and I know this will give me admittance to his graces, which I desire more, as I hear he is a good, than a great man; and, being one of the masters in chancery here, it is natural to covet the favour of him under whom I am to act.

I have lately met with a book of the bishop of Worcester’s concerning the Trinity. He takes occasion therein to reflect on some things in your Essay; but truly, I think, with no great strength of reason. However, he being a man of great name, I humbly propose it to you, whether you may not judge it worth your while to take notice of what he says, and give some answer to it, which will be no difficult task. I do not intend hereby, that an answer, on purpose for that end only, should be framed by you; I think it not of that moment; but perhaps you may find some accidental occasion of taking notice thereof, either in the next edition of your Essay, or some other discourse you may publish hereafter.

I have not yet received the satisfaction of having your likeness before me, and have therefore lately writ a very discontented letter about it to Mr. Howard. A great man here told me, I something resembled you in countenance; could he but assure me of being like you in mind too, it would have been the eternal honour and boast of

Your most devoted humble servant, and

entirely affectionate friend,

Will. Molyneux.

I find, by a book I lately light on, of Mr. Norris’s, that Mr. Masham and my son agree in one odd circumstance of life, of having both their mothers blind; for my wife lost her sight above twelve years before she died, and I find lady Masham is in the same condition.

John Locke

22 Feb. 1696-7

Oates

Molyneux

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

Sir,

Oates,

22 Feb. 1696-7.

I FEAR you will be of an opinion, that I take my picture for myself, and think you ought to look no farther, since that is coming to you, or is already with you. Indeed we are shadows much alike, and there is not much difference in our strength and usefulness. Yet I cannot but remember, that I cannot expect my picture should answer your letters to me, pay the acknowledgments I owe you, and excuse a silence as great as if I were nothing but a piece of cloth overlayed with colours. I could lay a great deal of the blame on business, and a great deal on want of health. Between these two I have had little leisure since I writ to you last. But all that will bear no excuse to myself, for being three letters in arrear to a person whom I the willingliest hear from of any man in the world, and with whom I had rather entertain myself, and pass my hours in conversation, than with any one that I know. I should take it amiss if you were not angry with me for not writing to you all this while; for I should suspect you loved me not so well as I love you, if you could patiently bear my silence. I hope it is your civility makes you not chide me. I promise you, I should have grumbled cruelly at you, if you had been half so guilty as I have been. But if you are angry a little, pray be not so very much; for if you should provoke me any way, I know the first sight of a letter from you, would allay all my choler immediately; and the joy of hearing you were well, and that you continued your kindness to me, would fill my mind, and leave me no other passion. For I tell you truly, that since the receipt of your letter in September last, there has scarce a day passed, I am sure not a post, wherein I have not thought of my obligation and debt to you, and resolved to acknowledge it to you, though something or other has still come between to hinder me. For you would have pitied me, to see how much of my time was forced from me this winter in the country, (where my illness confined me within doors,) by crouds of letters, which were therefore indispensably to be answered, because they were from people whom either I knew not, or cared not for, or was not willing to make bold with; and so you, and another friend I have in Holland, have been delayed, and put last, because you are my friends beyond ceremony and formality. And I reserved myself for you when I was at leisure, in the ease of thoughts to enjoy. For, that you may not think you have been passed over by a peculiar neglect, I mention to you another very good friend of mine, of whom I have now by me a letter, of an ancienter date than the first of your three, yet unanswered.

However you are pleased, out of kindness to me, to rejoice in yours of September 26, that my notions have had the good luck to be vented from the pulpit, and particularly by Mr. Bentley; yet that matter goes not so clear as you imagine. For a man of no small name, as you know Dr. S —— is, has been pleased to declare against my doctrine of no innate ideas, from the pulpit in the Temple, and as I have been told, charged it with little less than atheism. Though the doctor be a great man, yet that would not much fright me, because I am told, that he is not always obstinate against opinions which he has condemned more publicly, than in an harangue to a Sunday’s auditory. But that it is possible he may be firm here, because it is also said, he never quits his aversion to any tenet he has once declared against, ‘till change of times, bringing change of interest, and fashionable opinions open his eyes and his heart, and then he kindly embraces what before deserved his aversion and censure. My book crept into the world about six or seven years ago, without any opposition, and has since passed amongst some for useful, and, the least favourable, for innocent. But, as it seems to me, it is agreed by some men that it should no longer do so. Something, I know not what, is at last spied out in it, that is like to be troublesome, and therefore it must be an ill book, and be treated accordingly. It is not that I know any thing in particular, but some things that have happened at the same time together, seem to me to suggest this: What it will produce, time will show. But as you say in that kind letter, “Magna est veritas & prævalebit;” that keeps me at perfect ease in this, and whatever I write; for as soon as I shall discover it not to be truth, my hand shall be the forwardest to throw it in the fire.

You desire to know, what the opinion of the ingenious is, concerning Mr. Whiston’s book. I have not heard any one of my acquaintance speak of it, but with great commendation, as I think it deserves. And truly I think he is more to be admired, that he has laid down an hypothesis, whereby he has explained so many wonderful, and, before, inexplicable things in the great changes of this globe, than that some of them should not go easily down with some men, when the whole was entirely new to all. He is one of those sort of writers, that I always fancy should be most esteemed and encouraged. I am always for the builders who bring some addition to our knowledge, or, at least, some new thing to our thoughts. The finders of faults, the confuters and pullers down, do not only erect a barren and useless triumph upon human ignorance, but advance us nothing in the acquisition of truth. Of all the mottos I ever met with, this, writ over a waterwork at Cleve, best pleased me, “Natura omnes fecit judices, paucos artifices.”

I thank you for the account you gave me of your linen manufacture. Private knavery, I perceive, does there as well as here destroy all public good works, and forbid the hope of any advantages by them, where nature plentifully offers what industry would improve, were it but rightly directed, and duly cherished. The corruption of the age gives me so ill a prospect of any success in designs of this kind, ever so well laid, that I am not sorry my ill health gives me so just a reason to desire to be eased of the employment I am in.

Yours of the fifth of January, which brought with it that curious and exact description of that non-descript animal, found me here under the confinement of my ill lungs; but knowing business of several kinds would make it necessary for me to go to London as soon as possible, I thought it better to carry it thither myself, than send it at random to the Royal Society. Accordingly when I went up to town, about a fortnight since, I showed it to Dr. Sloane, and put it in his hands to be communicated to the Royal Society; which he willingly undertook; and I promise myself it will be published in their next Transactions. Dr. Sloane is a very ingenious man, and a very good friend of mine; and, upon my telling him that your correspondence with the secretary of the society had been of late interrupted, he readily told me, that, if you pleased, he would take it up, and be very glad if you would allow him the honour of a constant correspondence with you.

You show your charitable and generous temper, in what you say concerning a friend of mine in Holland, who is truly all that you think of him. He is married there, and has some kind of settlement; but I could be glad if you in Ireland, or I here, (though of the latter say nothing to others,) could get him a prebendary of 100 or 200l. per annum, to bring him over into our church, and to give him ease, and a sure retreat to write in, where, I think, he might be of great use to the Christian world. If you could do this, you would offer him a temptation would settle him amongst us; if you think you cannot, I am nevertheless obliged to you, for offering to one, whom you take to be a friend of mine, what you are able. If he should miss the effect, yet I have still the obligation to you.

When yours of the 3rd instant met me in London, when I was there lately, I was rejoiced at my journey, though I was uneasy in town, because I thought my being there, might give me an opportunity to do you some little service, or at least show you my willingness to do it. To that purpose I went twice or thrice to wait upon Mr. Methwin, though he be a person, in whose company I remember not that I was ever but once in my life. I missed him, by good luck, both times; and my distemper increased so fast upon me, that though I went to London with an intention to make some stay there, yet I was forced away in eight days, and had not an opportunity to see Mr. Methwin at all. You will, perhaps, wonder to hear me call my missing of him, good luck; but so I must always call that which any way favours my design of serving you, as this did. For hereupon I applied myself to a friend of mine, who has an interest in him, and one to whom your worth and friendship to me are not unknown, who readily undertook all I desired on your behalf. And I promise myself, from thence, that you will find Mr. Methwin will be as desirous of your acquaintance, as you are of his.

You will, in a little time, see that I have obeyed, or rather anticipated a command of yours, towards the latter end of your last letter. What sentiments I have of the usage I have received from the person you there mention, I shall shortly more at large acquaint you. What he says, is, as you observe, not of that moment much to need an answer; but the sly design of it I think necessary to oppose; for I cannot allow any one’s great name a right to use me ill. All fair contenders for the opinions they have, I like mightily; but there are so few that have opinions, or at least seem, by their way of defending them, to be really persuaded of the opinions they profess, that I am apt to think there is in the world a great deal more scepticism, or at least want of concern for truth, than is imagined. When I was in town I had the happiness to see Mr. Burridge; he is, he says, speedily returning to you, where I hope his book, which is received with great applause, will procure him something more solid than the name it has got him here; which I look upon as a good forerunner of greater things to come. He spoke something of his intention to set about my book, but that I must leave to you and him. There is lately fallen into my hand a paper of Mons. L —— , writ to a gentleman here in England, concerning several things in my Essay. I was told, when I was in London, that he had lately ordered his correspondent to communicate them to me, and something else he has since writ hither. He treats me all along with great civility, and more compliment than I can deserve. And being, as he is, a very great man, it is not for me to say there appears to me no great weight in the exceptions he makes to some passages in my book; but his great name and knowledge in all parts of learning, ought to make me think, that a man of his parts says nothing but what has great weight in it; only I suspect he has, in some places, a little mistaken my sense, which is easy for a stranger, who has (as I think) learned English out of England. The servant I have now cannot copy French, or else you should see what he says: when I have all his papers you shall hear farther from me. I repine, as often as I think of the distance between this and Dublin.

I read that passage of your letter to my lady Masham which concerned her sight; she bid me tell you, that she hopes to see you here this summer. You will, possibly, wonder at the miracle, but that you must find in Mr. Norris’s book. She has, it is true, but weak eyes, which Mr. Norris, for reasons he knew best, was resolved to make blind ones. And having fitted his epistle to that supposition, could not be hindered from publishing it so; though my lady, to prevent it, writ him word that she was not blind, and hoped she never should be. It is a strange power, you see, we authors take to ourselves; but there is nothing more ordinary, than for us to make whomsoever we will blind, and give them out to the world for such, as boldly as Bayard himself. But it is time to spare you and your eyes. I am, with the utmost respect and sincerity,

SIR,

Your most humble and most affectionate servant,

John Locke.

Will. Molyneux

March 16, 1696-7

Dublin

Locke

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

Dublin,

March 16, 1696-7.

I MUST confess, dear sir, I have not lately (if ever in my life) been under a greater concern, than at your long silence. Sometimes I was angry with myself, but I could not tell why; and then I was apt to blame you, but I could less tell why. As your silence continued my distraction increased; till, at last, I was happily relieved by yours of the 22d of February, which came not to my hands till the 10th instant. I then perceived I was to charge some part of my troubled time to the conveyance of your letter, which was almost three weeks on its way hither; and that which added to my concern was, the want of even your shadow before me, for to this moment I have not received that, which will be apt, on its appearance, to make me an idolater. Mr. Howard writes me word, he has sent it from London about five weeks ago; but I hear nothing of it from our correspondent, to whom it is consigned in Chester. However, seeing I know the substance to be in safety, and well, I can bear the hazard of the shadow with some patience, and doubt not but my expectation will be satisfied in due time.

Both Whiston and Bentley are positive against the idea of God being innate; and I had rather rely on them (if I would rely on any man) than on Dr. S —— . It is true, the latter has a great name, but that, I am sure, weighs not with you or me. Besides, you rightly observe, the doctor is no obstinate heretic, but may veer about when another opinion comes in fashion; for some men alter their notions as they do their clothes, in compliance to the mode. I have heard of a master of the Temple, who during the siege of Limerick, writ over hither to a certain prelate, to be sure to let him know, by the first opportunity, whenever it came to be surrendered, which was done accordingly; and immediately the good doctor’s eyes were opened, and he plainly saw the oaths to K. William and Q. Mary were not only expedient but lawful, and our duty. A good roaring train of artillery is not only the “ratio ultima regum,” but of other men besides.

I fancy I pretty well guess what it is that some men find mischievous in your Essay: it is opening the eyes of the ignorant, and rectifying the methods of reasoning, which perhaps may undermine some received errours, and so abridge the empire of darkness; wherein, though the subjects wander deplorably, yet the rulers have their profit and advantage. But it is ridiculous in any man to say in general your book is dangerous; let any fair contender for truth sit down and show wherein it is erroneous. Dangerous is a word of an uncertain signification; every one uses it in his own sense. A papist shall say it is dangerous; because, perhaps, it agrees not so well with transubstantiation; and a lutheran, because his consubstantiation is in hazard; but neither consider, whether transubstantiation or consubstantiation be true or false; but taking it for granted that they are true, or at least gainful, whatever hits not with it, or is against it, must be dangerous.

I am extremely obliged to you for your introducing a correspondence between Dr. Sloane and me, and it would be the greatest satisfaction imaginable to me, could I but promise myself materials, in this place, fit to support it. However I shall soon begin it, by sending him an account of the largest quadruped that moves on the earth, except the elephant, with which this country has anciently been plentifully stocked, but are now quite perished from amongst us, and is not to be found, for aught as I can learn, any where at present, but about New England, Virginia, &c.

And now I come to that part of your letter relating to Mons. Le Clerc, which grieves me every time I think on it. There are so many difficulties, in what you propose concerning him, that I know not how they will be surmounted. The clergy here have given that learned, pious, and candid man, a name that will frighten any bishop from serving him, though otherwise inclinable enough in his own breast. I know but two or three that are in any post in the church capable to help him; on whom I could rely to do it; but, at the same time, I know them to be such cautious wary men, and so fearful of the censure of the rest of the tribe, that they would hardly be brought to it. I take Mons. Le Clerc to be one of the greatest scholars in Europe; I look on him as one of the most judicious, pious and sincere Christians that has appeared publicly; and it would be an infinite honour to us, to have him amongst us, but, I fear, an ecclesiastical preferment will be very difficult to be obtained for him. And indeed, when I troubled you to give me some account of him, it was in prospect of bringing him into my own family, could his circumstances have allowed it; for I took him to be a single man, and one of the refugees in Holland, and wholly unprovided for. On his own account, I am heartily glad he has any settlement there; but, for my own sake, I could wish he were in other circumstances. But, notwithstanding these difficulties, I have ventured to break this matter to a clergyman here in a considerable post, Dr. ………. dean of ………, a gentleman who is happy in your acquaintance, and is a person of an extensive charity and great candour. He relished the thing extremely, but moved the forementioned difficulties, and raised some farther scruples concerning Mr. Le Clerc’s ordination; for ordained he must necessarily be, to capacitate him for an ecclesiastical preferment; and he questioned whether he would submit to those oaths, and subscription of assent and consent, that are requisite thereto. But he promised me that when he attends the king this summer into Holland, as his chaplain, he will wait on Mons. Le Clerc at Amsterdam, and discourse with him farther about this matter. This gentleman is the likeliest ecclesiastic in Ireland to effect this business, for he is a rising man in the church; and though he be very zealous in his own principles, yet it is with the greatest charity and deference to others; which, I think, is the true spirit of Christianity. I have not mentioned you in the least to him, in all this matter.

I am extremely obliged to you for the good offices you have done me to Mr. Methwin our lord chancellor. I promise myself a great deal of satisfaction in the honour of his lordship’s acquaintance. And, I could wish, if it were consistent with your convenience, that you would let me know the person you desired to mention my name to his lordship.

I am heartily glad to understand that you have taken notice of what the bishop of Worcester says, relating to your book. I have been in discourse here with an ingenious man, upon what the bishop alleges; and the gentleman observed, that the bishop does not so directly object against your notions as erroneous, but as misused by others, and particularly by the author of “Christianity not mysterious;” but I think this is no very just observation. The bishop directly opposes your doctrine, though, it is true, he does it on the occasion of the foresaid book. I am told the author of that discourse is of this country, and that his name is Toland, but he is a stranger in these parts; I believe, if he belongs to this kingdom, he has been a good while out of it, for I have not heard of any such remarkable man amongst us.

I should be very glad to see Mons. L.’s paper concerning your Essay. He is certainly an extraordinary person, especially in mathematics; but really to speak freely of him, in relation to what he may have to say to you, I do not expect any great matters from him; for methinks (with all deference to his great name) he has given the world no extraordinary samples of his thoughts this way, as appears by two discourses he has printed, both in the “Acta Erudit. Lipsiæ,” the first Anno 1694, . “De primæ Philosophiæ Emendatione,” &c. the other Anno 1695, . “Specimen Dynamicum,” which truly to me is, in many places, unintelligible; but that may be my defect, and not his.

I beg you would excuse me to my lady Masham, for the errour I committed relating to her ladyship. I ever looked on Mr. Norris as an obscure enthusiastic man, but I could not think he would knowingly impose on the world so notorious a falsity in matter of fact. I wish authors would take more pains to open than to shut men’s eyes, and then we should have more success in the discoveries of truth. —— — But I have almost outrun my paper. I am,

Ever honoured Sir,

Your most affectionate, and

most obliged humble servant,

Will. Molyneux.

April 6, 1697

Dublin

Locke

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

Honoured Sir,

Dublin,

April 6, 1697.

IN my last to you of March 16, there was a passage relating to the author of “Christianity not mysterious.” I did not then think that he was so near me, as within the bounds of this city; but I find since, that he is come over hither, and have had the favour of a visit from him. I now understand (as I intimated to you) that he was born in this country; but that he has been a great while abroad, and his education was, for some time, under the great Le Clerc. But that for which I can never honour him too much, is his acquaintance and friendship to you, and the respect which, on all occasions, he expresses for you. I propose a great deal of satisfaction in his conversation; I take him to be a candid free-thinker, and a good scholar. But there is a violent sort of spirit, that reigns here, which begins already to show itself against him; and, I believe, will increase daily; for I find the clergy alarmed to a mighty degree against him. And last Sunday he had his welcome to this city, by hearing himself harangued against out of the pulpit, by a prelate of this country.

I have at last received my most esteemed friend’s picture; I must now make my grateful acknowledgments to you, for the many idle hours you spent in sitting for it, to gratify my desire. I never look upon it, but with the greatest veneration. But though the artist has shown extraordinary skill at his pencil, yet now I have obtained some part of my desire, the greatest remains unsatisfied; and seeing he could not make it speak, and converse with me, I am still at a loss. But I find you are resolved, in some measure, to supply even that too, by the kind presents you sent me of your thoughts, both in your letters and in your books, as you publish them. Mr. Churchill tells me, I am obliged to you for one or two of this kind, that you have been pleased to favour me with; they are not yet come to hand, but I return you my heartiest thanks for them. I long, indeed, to see your answer to the bishop of Worcester; but for Edwards, I think him such a poor wretch, he deserves no notice. I am,

Most worthy Sir,

Your affectionate, humble servant,

Will. Molyneux.

John Locke

April 10, 1697

Oates

Molyneux

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

Sir,

Oates,

April 10, 1697.

THOUGH I do not suspect that you will think me careless or cold in that small business you desired of me, and so left it in negligent hands, give me leave to send you a transcript of a passage in my friend’s letter, which I received last post.

“It is a great while since that Mr. P —— undertook to tell you that I had spoken to Mr. Methwin about Mr. Molyneux, and that he received your recommendation very civilly, and answered, he should always have a great regard for any body you thought worthy of your esteem; and you gave so advantageous a character of Mr. Molyneux, that he should covet his acquaintance, and therefore he must desire the favour of you to recommend him to Mr. Molyneux.”

Thus, my friend, whose words, though in them there be something of compliment to myself, I repeat to you just as they are in his letter, that you may see he had the same success I promised you in my last.

In obedience to your commands, I herewith send you a copy of Mr. L— ‘s paper. The last paragraph, which you will find writ in my hand, is a transcript of part of a letter, writ lately to his correspondent here, one Mr. Burnet, who sent it me lately, with a copy of Mr. L —— — ‘s paper. Mr. Burnet has had it this year or two, but never communicated it to me, ‘till about a fortnight agone. Indeed Mr. Cunningham procured me a sight of it last summer, and he and I read it paragraph by paragraph over together, and he confessed to me, that some parts of it he did not understand; and I showed him in others, that Mr. L —— — ‘s opinion would not hold, who was perfectly of my mind. I mention Mr. Cunningham to you, in the case, because I think him an extraordinary man of parts and learning, and he is one that is known to Mr. L —— — . To answer your freedom with the like, I must confess to you, that Mr. L —— — ‘s great name had raised in me an expectation which the sight of his paper did not answer, nor that discourse of his in the “Acta Eruditorum,” which he quotes, and I have since read, and had just the same thoughts of it, when I read it, as I find you have. From whence I only draw this inference, that even great parts will not master any subject without great thinking, and even the largest minds have but narrow swallows. Upon this occasion I cannot but again regret the loss of your company and assistance, by this great distance.

I have lately got a little leisure to think of some additions to my book, against the next edition, and within these few days have fallen upon a subject, that I know not how far it will lead me. I have written several pages on it, but the matter, the farther I go, opens the more upon me, and I cannot yet get sight of any end of it. The title of the chapter will be, “Of the Conduct of the Understanding,” which, if I shall pursue, as far as I imagine it will reach, and as it deserves, will, I conclude, make the largest chapter of my Essay. It is well for you, you are not near me; I should be always pestering you with my notions, and papers, and reveries. It would be a great happiness to have a man of thought to lay them before, and a friend that would deal candidly and freely.

I hope, ere this, you and your brother have received printed copies of what the doctor communicated to the Royal Society. I presume it is published before this time, though I have not seen it; for Dr. Sloane writ me word, some time since, that it would be speedily, and told me he would send it to you. And, if Mr. Churchill has taken that care he promised me, I hope you have also received my Letter to the bishop of Worcester, and that I shall soon receive your thoughts of it.

The business you proposed to Dr. S —— is generously designed, and well managed, and I very much wish it success. But will not Dr. S —— be persuaded to communicate to the world the observations he made in Turkey? The discourse I had with him satisfies me, they well deserve not to be lost, as all papers laid up in a study are. Methinks you should prevail with him to oblige his country.

Though my paper be done, yet I cannot close my letter till I have made some acknowledgments to you, for the many great marks you give me of a sincere affection, and an esteem extremely above what I can deserve, in yours of the 16th of March. Such a friend, procured me by my Essay, makes me more than amends for the many adversaries it has raised me. But, I think, nobody will be able to find any thing mischievous in it, but what you say, which I suspect, troubles some men; and I am not sorry for it, nor like my book the worse. He that follows truth impartially, seldom pleases any set of men; and I know not how a great many of those, who pretend to be spreaders of light and teachers of truth, would yet have men depend upon them for it, and take it rather upon their words than their own knowledge, just cooked and seasoned as they think fit. But it is time to release you after so long a trouble. I am perfectly,

Dear Sir,

Your most humble and most faithful servant,

John Locke.

REFLEXIONS DE MR. L —— — SUR “L’ÉSSAI DE L’ENTENDEMENT HUMAIN” DE MONSIEUR LOCKE.

JE trouve tant de marques d’une penetration peu ordinaire dans ce que Mr. Locke nous a donné sur l’entendement de l’homme, & sur l’education, & je juge la matiere si importante, que j’ai crû ne pas mal employer le tems que je donnerois à une lecture si profitable; d’autant que j’ai fort medité moi-même sur ce qui regarde les fondemens de nos connoissances. C’est ce qui m’a fait mettre sur cette feüille quelques unes des remarques qui me sont venues en lisant son “essai de l’entendement.” De toutes les recherches il n’y en a point de plus importantes, puisque c’est la clef de toutes les autres.

Le premier livre regarde principalement les principes qu’on dit être néz avec nous. Mr. Locke ne les admet pas, non plus que les idées inées. Il a eu sans doute de grandes raisons de s’opposer en cela aux préjugez ordinaires, car on abuse extrêmement du nom d’idées & de principes. Les philosophes vulgaires se font des principes à leur phantasie, & les Cartesiens, qui font profession de plus d’exactitude, ne laissent pas de faire leur retrenchement des idées prétendües, de l’étendüe de la matiere, & de l’ame; voulant s’éxempter par-la de la nécessité de prouver ce qu’ils avancent; sous prétexte que ceux qui méditeront les idées, y trouveront la même chose qu’eux, c’est-à-dire, que ceux qui s’accoûtumeront à leur jargon & à leur maniere de penser, auront les mêmes préventions, ce qui est très-véritable. Mon opinion est donc qu’on ne doit rien prendre pour principe primitif, si non les expériences & l’axiôme de l’identicité ou (ce qui est la même chose) de la contradiction, qui est primitif, puisqu’ autrement il n’y auroit point de difference entre la verité & la fausseté; & toutes les recherches cesseroient d’abord, s’il étoit indifferent de dire oüi ou non. On ne sauroit donc s’empêcher de supposer ce principe, dès qu’on veut raisonner. Toutes les autres veritez sont prouvables, & j’estime extrêmement la methode d’Euclide, qui sans s’arrêter à ce qu’on croiroit être assez prouvé par les prétendües idées, a demontré (par exemple) que dans une triangle un côté est toûjours moindre que les deux autres ensemble. Cependant Euclide a eu raison de prendre quelques axiômes pour accordés, non pas comme s’ils étoient véritablement primitifs & indémonstrables, mais parce qu’il se seroit trop arrêté, s’il n’avoit voulu venir aux conclusions qu’après une discussion éxacte des principes: ainsi il a jugé à propos de se contenter d’avoir poussé les preuves, jusqu’à ce petit nombre de propositions, en sorte qu’on peut dire que si elles sont vraies, tout ce qu’il dit l’est aussi. Il a laissé à d’autres le soin, de démontrer ces principes mêmes, qui d’ailleurs sont déja justifiées par les expériences. Mais c’est dequoi on ne se contente point en ces matieres: c’est pourquoi Apollonius, Proclus, & autres, ont pris la peine de démontrer quelques uns des axiômes d’Euclide. Cette maniere doit être imitée des philosophes, pour venir enfin à quelques établissemens, quand ils ne seroient que provisionels; de la maniere que je viens de dire. Quant aux idées j’en ai donné quelque éclaircissement dans un petit écrit imprimé dans les actes des sçavans de Leipzig au mois de Novembre, 1684, , qui est intitulé, “Meditationes de cognitione, veritate, & ideis,” & j’aurois souhaité que Mr. Locke l’eut vû & éxaminé, car je suis des plus dociles, & rien n’est plus propre à avancer nos pensées que les considerations & les remarques des personnes de mérite, lorsqu’elles sont faites avec attention & avec sincerité. Je dirai seulement ici, que les idées vraies ou réeles sont celles dont on est assûré que l’éxécution est possible, les autres sont douteuses ou (en cas de preuve de l’impossibilité) chimériques. Or la possibilité des idées se prouve tant à priori par des démonstrations, en se servant de la possibilité d’autres idées plus simples, qu’à posteriori par les expériences, car ce qui est ne sçauroit manquer d’être possible: mais les idées primitives sont celles dont la possibilité est indémonstrable, & qui en effet ne sont autre chose que les attributs de Dieu. Pour ce qui est de la question, “s’il y a des idées & des véritez créez avec nous;” je ne trouve point absolument nécessaire pour les commencemens, ni pour la pratique de l’art de penser, de la décider, soit qu’elles nous viennent toutes de déhors, ou qu’elles viennent de nous, on raisonnera juste pourvû qu’on garde ce que j’ai dit cidessus & qu’on precede avec ordre & sans prévention. La question de “l’origine de nos idées & de nos maximes” n’est pas préliminaire en philosophie, & il faut avoir fait de grands progrès pour la bien résoudre. Je crois cependant pouvoir dire que nos idées (même celles de choses sensibles) viennent de notre propre fonds, dont on pourra mieux juger parce que j’ai publié touchant la nature & la communication des substances & ce qu’on appelle “l’union de l’ame avec le corps,” car j’ai trouvé que ces choses n’avoient pas été bien prises. Je ne suis nullement pour la tabula rasa d’Aristote, & il y a quelque chose de solide dans ce que Platon appelloit la reminiscence. Il y a même quelque chose de plus, car nous n’avons pas seulement une reminiscence de toutes nos pensées; passées; mais encore un pressentiment de toutes nos pensées futures. Il est vrai que c’est confusément & sans les distinguer, à peu près comme lorsque j’entends le bruit de la mer, j’entends celui de toutes les vagues en particulier qui composent le bruit total; quoique ce soit sans discerner une vague de l’autre. Et il est vrai dans un certain sens que j’ai expliqué, que non seulement nos idées, mais encore nos sentimens naissent de nôtre propre fonds, & que l’ame est plus indépendante qu’on ne pense, quoiqu’il soit toûjours vrai que rien ne se passe en elle qui ne soit déterminé.

Dans le livre ii. qui vient au détail des idées, j’avouë que les raisons de Mons. Locke pour prouver que l’ame est quelquefois sans penser à rien, ne me paroissent pas convainquantes; si ce n’est qu’il donne le nom de pensés aux seules perceptions assez notables pour être distinguées & retenuës. Je tiens que l’ame & même le corps n’est jamais sans action, & que l’ame n’est jamais sans quelque perception. Même en dormant on a quelques sentimens confus & sombres du lieu où l’on est & d’autres choses. Mais quand l’expérience ne le confirmeroit pas je crois qu’il y en a démonstration. C’est à peu près comme on ne sçauroit prouver absolument pas les expériences s’il n’y a point de vuide dans l’espace & s’il n’y a point de repos dans la matiere. Et cependant ces sortes de questions me paroissent décidées démonstrativement, aussi bien qu’à Mr. Locke; je demeure d’accord de la différence qu’il met avec beaucoup de raison entre la matiere & l’espace. Mais, pour ce qui est du vuide plusieurs personnes habiles l’ont crû. Monsieur Locke est de ce nombre, j’en étois presque persuadé moi-même, mais j’en suis revenu depuis longtems. Et l’incomparable Monsieur Huygens, qui étoit aussi pour le vuide, et pour les atômes, commença à faire réflexion sur mes raisons, comme ses lettres le pouvent témoigner. La preuve du vuide prise du mouvement, dont Mr. Locke se sert, suppose que le corps est originairement dur, & qu’il est composé d’un certain nombre de parties inflexibles. Car en ce cas il seroit vrai, quelque nombre fini d’atômes qu’on pourroit prendre, que le mouvement ne sçauroit avoir lieu sans vuide, mais toutes les parties de la matiere sont divisibles & pliables. Il y a encore quelques autres choses dans ce second livre qui m’arrêtent, par éxemple, lorsqu’il est dit, cha. que l’infinité ne se doit attribuer qu’à l’espace, au tems, & aux nombres. Je crois avec Mr. Locke qu’à proprement parler on peut dire qu’il n’y a point d’espace, de tems, ni de nombre, qui soit infini, mais qu’il est seulement vrai que plus grand que soit une espace, ou tems, ou bien un nombre, il y a toûjours un autre plus grand que lui sans fin, & qu’ainsi le véritable infini ne se trouve point dans un tout composé de parties. Cependant il ne laisse pas de se trouver ailleurs, savoir dans l’absolu, qui est sans parties & qui a influence sur les choses composées, parce qu’elles résultent de la limitation de l’absolu. Donc l’infini positif n’étant autre chose que l’absolu, on peut dire qu’il y a en ce sens une idée positive de l’infini, & qu’elle est antérieure à celle du fini. Au reste en rejettant un infini composé on ne rejette point ce que les géométres démontrent “de seriebus infinitis,” & particulierement l’excellent Mr. Newton. Quant à ce qui est dit cha. “de ideis adæquatis,” il est permit de donner aux termes la signification qu’on trouve à propos. Cependant sans blamer le sens de Mr. Locke je mets un degré dans les idées selon lequelle j’appelle adequate celle où il n’y a plus rien à expliquer. Or toutes les idées des qualitez sensibles, comme de la lumiere, couleur, chaleur, n’êtant point de cette nature, je ne les compte point parmi les adequates, aussi n’est-ce point par ellesmêmes, ni à priori, mais par l’expérience que nous en sçavons la réalite, ou la possibilité.

Il y a encore bien de bonnes choses dans le livre iii. où il est traite des mots ou termes. Il est très-vrai qu’on ne sçauroit tout définir, & que les qualitez sensibles n’ont point de définition nominale, & on les peut appeller primitives en ce sens-la. Mais elles ne laissent pas de pouvoir recevoir une définition réelle. J’ai montré la différence de ses deux sortes de définitions dans la méditation citée ci-dessus. La définition nominale explique le nom par les marques de la choses; mais la definition réelle fait connoître à priori la possibilité du défini. Au reste j’applaudis fort à la doctrine de Mons. Locke touchant la demonstrabilité des veritez morales.

Le iv. ou dernier livre, où il s’agit de la connoissance de la verité, montre l’usage de ce qui vient d’être dit. J’y trouve (aussi bien que dans les livres précédens) une infinité de belles reflexions. De faire là-dessus les remarques convenables, ce seroit faire un livre aussi grand que l’ouvrage même. Il me semble que les axiômes y sont un peu moins considerés qu’ils ne méritent de l’être. C’est apparemment parce qu’excepté ceux des mathematiciens on n’en trouve guere ordinairement, qui soient importans & solides: tâché de rémedier à ce défaut. Je ne méprise pas les propositions identiques, & j’ai trouvé qu’elles ont un grand usage même dans l’analyse. Il est très-vrai, que nous connoissons nôtre existence par une intuition immediate & celle de Dieu par démonstration, & qu’une masse de matiere, dont les parties sont sans perception, ne sçauroit faire un tout qui pense. Je ne méprise point l’argument inventé, il y a quelques siécles, par Ansclme, qui prouve que l’être parfait doit exister; quoique je trouve qu’il manque quelque chose à cet argument, parce qu’il suppose que l’être parfait est possible. Car si ce seul point se démonstre encore, la démonstration toute entiere sera entierement achevé. Quant à la connoissance des autres choses il est fort bien dit, que la seule expérience ne suffit pas pour avancer assez en physique. Un esprit pénétrant tirera plus de conséquences de quelques expériences assez ordinaires qu’un autre ne sçauroit tirer des plus choisies, outre qu’il y a un art d’expérimenter & d’interroger, pour ainsi dire, la nature. Cependant il est toujours vrai qu’on ne sçauroit avancer dans le detail de la physique qu’à mesure qu’on a des expériences. Mons. Locke est de l’opinion des plusieurs habiles hommes, qui tiennent que la forme des logiciens est de peu d’usage. Je serois quasi d’un autre sentiment: & j’ai trouvé souvent que les paralogismes même dans les mathématiques sont des manquemens de la forme. M. Huygens a fait la même remarque. Il y auroit bien à dire là-dessus; & plusieurs choses excellentes sont méprisées parce qu’on n’en fait pas l’usage dont elles sont capables. Nous sommes portez à mépriser ce que nous avons appris dans les écoles. Il est vrai que nous y apprenons bien des inutilitez, mais il est bon de faire la fonction della crusca, c’est à dire, de séparer le bon du mauvais. Mr. Locke le peut faire autant que qui que ce soit; & de plus il nous donne des pensées considerables de son propre crû. Il n’est pas seulement essayeur, mais il est encore transmutateur, par l’augmentation qu’il donne du bon métail. S’il continuoit d’en faire present au public, nous lui en serions fort redevables.

Je voudrois que Mons. Locke eut dit son sentiment à Mons. Cunningham sur mes remarques, ou que Mons. Cunningham voulut nous le dire librement. Car je ne suis pas de ceux qui sont entêtez, & la raison peut tout sur moi. Mais les affaires de négoce détournent Mons. Locke de ces pensées, car cette matiere de négoce est de très grande etendu & même fort subtile & demimathematique, &c.

Locke

May 3, 1697

Oates

Molyneux

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

Dear Sir,

Oates,

May 3, 1697.

THOUGH the honour you do me, in the value you put upon my shadow, be a fresh mark of that friendship which is so great an happiness to me, yet I shall never consider my picture in the same house with you, without great regret at my so far distance from you myself. But I will not continue to importune you with my complaints of that kind; it is an advantage greater than I could have hoped, to have the conversation of such a friend, though with the sea between; and the remaining little scantling of my life would be too happy, if I had you in my neighbourhood.

I am glad to hear that the gentleman you mention, in yours of the sixth of the last month, does me the favour to speak well of me on that side the water; I never deserved other of him, but that he should always have done so on this. If his exceeding great value of himself do not deprive the world of that usefulness, that his parts, if rightly conducted, might be of, I shall be very glad. He went from London, as I heard afterwards, soon after I left it, the last time. But he did me not the favour to give me a visit whilst I was there, nor to let me know of his intended journey to you; if he had, it is possible I might have writ by him to you, which I am now not sorry he did not. I always value men of parts and learning, and think I cannot do too much in procuring them friends and assistance. But there may happen occasions that may make one stop one’s hand. And it is the hopes young men give of what use they will make of their parts, which is to me the encouragement of being concerned for them. But, if vanity increases with age, I always fear whither it will lead a man. I say this to you, because you are my friend, for whom I have no reserves, and think I ought to talk freely where you inquire, and possibly may be concerned; but I say it to you alone, and desire it may go no farther. For the man I wish very well, and could give you, if it needed, proofs that I do so. And therefore I desire you to be kind to him; but I must leave it to your prudence, in what way, and how far. If his carriage with you gives you the promises of a steady useful man, I know you will be forward enough of yourself, and I shall be very glad of it. For it will be his fault alone if he prove not a very valuable man, and have not you for his friend.

But I have something to say to you of another man. Mons. Le Clerc, in a letter I received from him, writes thus:

“Mons. C — me disoit dernierement que s’il trouvoit occasion d’entrer dans une maison de condition en qualité de precepteur, il seroit ravi d’en profiter. C’est un fort honnête homme, & qui seroit bien capable de s’acquitter de cet emploi. Il ne sçait l’anglois que par les livres, c’est-a-dire, qu’il l’entend lorsqu’il le lit, mais qu’il ne le sçauroit parler non plus que moi faute d’habitude. Si quelque un de vos amis auroit besoin de precepteur, & qu’il lui donnât de quoi s’entretenir, il ne sçauroit trouver d’homme plus sage & plus réglé, outre qu’il sçait beaucoup de choses utiles pour un emploi comme celui-là, les belles lettres, l’histoire,” &c.

This Mr. C — is he that translated my book of Education, upon which occasion I came to have some acquaintance with him by letters, and he seems a very ingenious man; and Mr. Le Clerc has often, before any thing of this, spoken of him to me with commendation and esteem. He has since translated “The Lady’s Religion,” and “The Reasonableness of Christianity,” into French. You may easily guess why I put this into my letter to you, after what you said concerning Mr. Le Clerc in your last letter but one.

You are willing, I see, to make my little presents to you more and greater than they are. Amongst the books that Mr. Churchill sent you, you are beholden to me (since you will call it so) but for one; and to that the bishop of Worcester, I hear, has an answer in the press, which will be out this week. So that I perceive this controversy is a matter of serious moment beyond what I could have thought. This benefit I shall be sure to get by it, either to be confirmed in my opinion, or be convinced of some errours, which I shall presently reform, in my Essay, and so make it the better for it. For I have no opinions that I am fond of. Truth, I hope, I always shall be fond of, and so ready to embrace, and with so much joy, that I shall own it to the world, and thank him that does me the favour. So that I am never afraid of any thing writ against me, unless it be the wasting of my time, when it is not writ closely in pursuit of truth, and truth only.

In my last to you, I sent you a copy of Mr. L — — ‘s paper; I have this writ me out of Holland concerning it:

“Mr. L —— , mathématicien de Hannover ayant oüi dire, qu’on traduisoit vôtre ouvrage, et qu’on l’alloit imprimer, a envoyé ici à un de mes amis ce jugement qu’il en fait, comme pour la mettre à la tête. Cependant il a été bien aise qu’on vous le communicât. Il m’a été remis entre les mains pour cela. On m’a dit mille biens de ce mathématicien. Il y a long tems que magna et præclara minatur, sans rien produre que quelque démonstrations détachées. Je crois neanmoins qu’il ne vous entend pas, et je doute qu’il s’entende bien lui-même.”

I see you and I, and this gentleman, agree pretty well concerning the man; and this sort of fiddling makes me hardly avoid thinking, that he is not that very great man as has been talked of him. His paper was in England a year, or more, before it was communicated to me, and I imagine you will think he need not make such a great stir with it.

My Essay, you see, is translating into French, and it is by the same Mr. Coste above-mentioned. But this need not hinder Mr. Burridge in what he designed; for Mr. Coste goes on exceedingly slowly, as I am told.

You see how forward I am to importune you with all my little concerns. But this would be nothing to what I should do, if I were nearer you. I should then be talking to you de quolibet ente, and consulting you about a thousand whimsies that come sometimes into my thoughts. But with all this, I unfeignedly am,

Dear Sir,

Your most faithful humble servant,

John Locke.

The poem that was sent you by Mr. Churchill, amongst the other books, I believe will please you: there are some noble parts in it.

Will. Molyneux

May 15, 1697

Dublin

Locke

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

Dublin,

May 15, 1697.

My most honoured Friend,

NOTHING could excuse my keeping your kind letter of April 10th so long by me unanswered, but an unexpected and melancholy accident that has lately befallen a dear sister of mine, who, on the 24th of last month, lost her husband, the lord bishop of Meath, a learned and worthy prelate. Our whole family has so deeply partaken in this trouble, that we have been all under a great concern; but more particularly myself, who am intrusted by the good bishop with the disposal of some of his affairs. This has, of late, so taken me up, that I had not time to take the satisfaction of writing to you; but the hurry of that business being somewhat abated, I resume the pleasure of kissing your hands, and of assuring you, with what a deep sense of gratitude I receive the kindness you have done me with my lord chancellor Methwin. I hope we shall see his lordship soon here, for we understand he parts from London the 18th instant.

I am extremely obliged to you for the trouble you have been at in communicating to me Mons. L — — ‘s paper, and I am now sorry I ever put the task on you: for to speak freely to you, as I formerly did, I find nothing in this paper to make me alter the opinion I had of Mons. L — — ‘s performances this way. He is either very unhappy in expressing, or I am very dull in apprehending his thoughts. I do not know but some of the doubts he raises, concerning your Essay, may proceed from his unacquaintance with our language; and this makes me yet more earnest to procure the translation of your Essay; but Mr. Burridge, since he last arrived here, has been wholly employed in overtaking his business in the country, to which he is run much in arrear. He is chaplain to my lord chancellor Methwin, and on that account, I hope he will keep much in town, and then I shall ply him hard.

I will give you a thousand thanks for the present of your letter to the bishop of Worcester: but I need not give you my opinion of it, otherwise than as you find it in the following paragraph of a letter which I received concerning it, from a reverend prelate of this kingdom. (The present bishop of …. between ourselves.)

“I read Mr. Locke’s letter to the bishop of Worcester with great satisfaction, and am wholly of your opinion, that he has fairly laid the great bishop on his back; but it is with so much gentleness, as if he were afraid not only of hurting him, but even of spoiling or tumbling his cloaths. Indeed I cannot tell which I most admire, the great civility and good manners in his book, or the force and clearness of his reasonings. And I fancy the bishop will thank him privately, and trouble the world no more with this dispute.”

You see thereby my friend’s and my own opinion, of your book; and I can tell you farther, that all those whom I have yet conversed with in this place, concerning it, agree in the same judgment. And another (bishop too) told me, that “though your words were as smooth as oil, yet they cut like a two-edged sword.”

At the same time that Mr. Churchill sent me your Letter to the bishop, he sent me likewise the “Second Vindication of the Reasonableness of Christianity.” If you know the author thereof, (as I am apt to surmise you may) be pleased to let him know, that I think he has done Edwards too much honour in thinking him worth his notice; for so vile a poor wretch certainly never appeared in print. But, at the same time, tell him, that, as this Vindication contains a farther illustration of the divine truths in the Reasonableness of Christianity, he has the thanks of me, and of all fair candid men that I converse with about it.

In giving you the opinion we have here, of your letter to the bishop of Worcester, I have rather chosen to let you know, particularly, that of some of our bishops with whom I converse; for this rank, if any, might seem inclinable to favour their brother, could they do it with any show of justice. And yet, after all, I am told from London, that the bishop is hammering out an answer to you. Certainly some men think, or hope the world will think, that truth always goes with the last word.

You never write to me, that you do not raise new expectations in my longing mind of partaking your thoughts, on those noble subjects you are upon. Your chapter concerning the conduct of the understanding must needs be very sublime and spacious. Oh sir! never more mention to me our distance as your loss: it is my disadvantage! it is my unhappiness! I never before had such reason to deplore my hard fate, in being condemned to this prison of an island; but one day or other I will get loose, in spite of all the fetters and clogs that incumber me at present. But if you did but know in what a wood of business I am engaged, (by the greatest part whereof I reap no other advantage than the satisfaction of being seviceable to my friends,) you would pity me. But I hope soon to rid my hands of a great part of this trouble, and then I shall be at more liberty. Till which happy time, and for ever, I remain

Your most faithful friend, and most humble servant,

Will. Molyneux.

May 27, 1697

Dublin

Locke

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

Honoured Dear Sir,

Dublin,

May 27, 1697.

THE hints you are pleased so friendly to communicate to me, in yours of the 3d instant, concerning Mr. T —— — , are fresh marks of your kindness and confidence in me, and they perfectly agree with the apprehensions I had conceived of that gentleman. Truly, to be free, and without reserve to you, I do not think his management, since he came into this city, has been so prudent. He has raised against him the clamours of all parties; and this, not so much by his difference in opinion, as by his unseasonable way of discoursing, propagating, and maintaining it. Coffee-houses, and public tables, are not proper places for serious discourses relating to the most important truths. But when also a tincture of vanity appears in the whole course of a man’s conversation, it disgusts many that may otherwise have a due value for his parts and learning. I have known a gentleman in this town, that was a most strict socinian, and thought as much out of the common road as any man, and was also known so to do; but then his behaviour and discourse were attended with so much modesty, goodness, and prudence, that I never heard him publicly censured or clamoured against, neither was any man in danger of censure, by receiving his visits, or keeping him company. I am very loth to tell you how far it is otherwise with Mr. T —— in this place; but I am persuaded it may be for his advantage that you know it, and that you friendly admonish him for it, for his conduct hereafter. I do not think that any man can be dispensed with to dissemble the truth, and full persuasion of his mind, in religious truths, when duly called to it, and upon fitting occasions. But, I think, prudence may guide us in the choice of proper opportunities, that we may not run ourselves against rocks to no purpose, and inflame men against us unnecessarily. Mr. T —— also takes here a great liberty, on all occasions, to vouch your patronage and friendship, which makes many that rail at him, rail also at you. I believe you will not approve of this, as far as I am able to judge, by your shaking him off in your Letter to the Bishop of Worcester. But after all this, I look upon Mr. T —— as a very ingenious man, and I should be very glad of any opportunity of doing him service, to which I think myself indispensably bound by your recommendation. One thing more I had almost forgot to intimate to you, that all here are mightily at a loss in guessing what might be the occasion of T — — ‘s coming, at this time, into Ireland. He is known to be of no fortune or employ, and yet is observed to have a subsistence, but from whence it comes no one can tell certainly. These things, joined with his great forwardness in appearing in public, make people surmise a thousand fancies. If you could give me light into these matters, as far as it may help me in my own conduct, I should be much obliged to you.

By the books which Mr. Coste has translated, I perceive his inclinations would be extremely agreeable to mine, and I should be very happy could I give him, at present, any encouragement to come into my poor family. But I have a gentleman with me in the house, whose dependence is wholly upon me; and I cannot find fault with my little boy’s progress under him. When I formerly made inquiry from you about Mons. Le Clerc, I was in some prospect of providing for this gentleman whom I now have, by the favour of a good friend, who is since dead. So that, at present, having no opportunity of disposing him to his advantage, I cannot conveniently part with him. However, I do not know how soon it may be otherwise; and therefore be pleased, in the mean time, to let me know something farther of Mons. Coste; as whether he be a complete master of the Latin tongue, or other language; whether a mathematician, or given to experimental philosophy; what his age, and where educated: as to the belles lettres, l’histoire, &c. Mons. Le Clerc has mentioned them already in his character.

I am mightily pleased to find that some others have the same thoughts of Mons. L —— as you and I. His performances in mathematics have made all the world mistaken in him. But certainly, in other attempts, I am of your opinion, he no more understands himself, than others understand him.

Mr. Churchill favoured me with the present of sir R. Blackmore’s K. Arthur. I had Pr. Arthur before, and read it with admiration, which is not at all lessened by this second piece. All our English poets (except Milton) have been mere ballad-makers, in comparison to him. Upon the publication of his first poem, I intimated to him, through Mr. Churchill’s hands, how excellently I thought he might perform a philosophic poem, from many touches he gave in his Pr. Arthur, particularly from Mopas’s song. And, I perceive by his preface to K. Arthur, he has had the like intimations from others, but rejects them, as being an enemy to all philosophic hypotheses. Were I acquainted with sir R. Blackmore, I could assure him, (and, if you be so, I beseech you to tell him,) that I am as little an admirer of hypotheses as any men, and never proposed that thought to him, with a design that a philosophic poem should run on such a strain. “A natural history of the great and admirable phenomena of the universe,” is a subject, I think, may afford sublime thoughts in a poem; and so far, and no farther, would I desire a poem to extend.

You see I am carried beyond my designed bounds, by the mark on the other side this leaf. But as I am never weary of reading letters from you, so, I think, I am never tired of writing to you. However, it is time I relieve you, by subscribing myself entirely

Your most affectionate, and devoted servant,

Will. Molyneux.

John Locke

June 15, 1697

Oates

Molyneux

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

Dear Sir,

Oates,

June 15, 1697.

I HAVE the honour of your two obliging letters of the 15th and 27th of May, wherein I find the same mind, the same affection, and the same friendship, which you have so frankly, and so long, made me happy in. And, if I may guess by the paragraph which you transcribed out of your friend’s letter into yours of the 15th of May, I shall have reason to think your kindness to me is grown infectious, and that by it you fascinate your friends understandings, and corrupt their judgments in my favour. It is enough for me, in so unequal a match, if mighty truth can keep me from a shameful overthrow. If I can maintain my ground, it is enough, against so redoubtable an adversary; but victory I must not think of. I doubt not but you are convinced of that by this time, and you will see how silly a thing it is for an unskilled pigmy to enter the lists with a man at arms, versed in the use of his weapons.

My health, and businesses that I like as little as you do those you complain of, make me know what it is to want time. I often resolve not to trouble you any more with my complaints of the distance between us, and as often impertinently break that resolution. I never have any thoughts working in my head, or any new project start in my mind, but my wishes carry me immediately to you, and I desire to lay them before you. You may justly think this carries a pretty severe reflection on my country, or myself, that in it I have not a friend to communicate my thoughts with. I cannot much complain of want of friends to other purposes. But a man with whom one can freely seek truth, without any regard to old or new, fashionable or not fashionable, but truth merely for truth’s sake, is what is scarce to be found in an age; and such an one I take you to be. Do but think then what a pleasure, what an advantage it would be to me to have you by me, who have so much thought, so much clearness, so much penetration, all directed to the same aim which I propose to myself, in all the ramblings of my mind. I, on this occasion, mention only the wants that I daily feel, which make me not so often speak of the other advantages I should receive, from the communication of your own notions, as well as from the correction of mine. But, with this repining, I trouble you too much, and, for the favours I receive from you, thank you too little, and rejoice not enough in having such a friend, though at a distance.

As to the gentleman, to whom you think my friendly admonishments may be of advantage for his conduct hereafter, I must tell you, that he is a man to whom I never writ in my life, and, I think, I shall not now begin. And, as to his conduct, it is what I never so much as spoke to him of. This is a liberty to be only taken with friends and intimates, for whose conduct one is mightily concerned, and in whose affairs one interests himself. I cannot but wish well to all men of parts and learning, and be ready to afford them all the civilities and good offices in my power. But there must be other qualities to bring me to a friendship, and unite me in those stricter ties of concern. For I put a great deal of difference between those whom I thus receive into my heart and affection, and those whom I receive into my chamber, and do not treat there with a perfect strangeness. I perceive you think yourself under some obligation of peculiar respect to that person, upon the account of my recommendation to you; but certainly this comes from nothing but your over-great tenderness to oblige me. For, if I did recommend him, you will find it was only as a man of parts and learning, for his age, but without any intention that that should be of any other consequence, or lead you any farther, than the other qualities you should find in him, should recommend him to you. And therefore whatsoever you shall, or shall not do for him, I shall no way interest myself in. I know, of your own self, you are a good friend to those who deserve it of you; and for those that do not, I shall never blame your neglect of them. The occasion of his coming into Ireland now, I guess to be the hopes of some employment, now upon this change of hands there. I tell you, I guess, for he himself never told me any thing of it, nor so much as acquainted me with his intentions of going to Ireland, how much soever he vouches my patronage and friendship, as you are pleased to phrase it. And as to his subsistence, from whence that comes, I cannot tell. I should not have wasted so much of my conversation with you, on this subject, had you not told me it would oblige you to give you light in these matters, which I have done, as a friend to a friend, with a greater freedom than I should allow myself to talk to another.

I shall, when I see sir Rich. Blackmore, discourse him as you desire. There is, I with pleasure find, a strange harmony throughout between your thoughts and mine. I have always thought that laying down, and building upon hypotheses, has been one of the great hindrances of natural knowledge; and I see your notions agree with mine in it. And, though I have a great value for sir R. Blackmore, on several accounts, yet there is nothing has given me a greater esteem of him, than what he says about hypotheses in medicine, in his preface to King Arthur, which is an argument to me, that he understands the right method of practising physic; and it gives me great hopes he will improve it, since he keeps in the only way it is capable to be improved in; and has so publicly declared against the more easy, fashionable, and pleasing way of an hypothesis, which, I think, has done more to hinder the true art of Physic, which is the curing of diseases, than all other things put together; by making it learned, specious, and talkative, but ineffective to its great end, the health of mankind; as was visible in the practice of physic, in the hands of the illiterate Americans; and the learned physicians, that went thither out of Europe, stored with their hypotheses, borrowed from natural philosophy, which made them indeed great men, and admired in the schools; but in curing diseases, the poor Americans, who had escaped those splendid clogs, clearly out-went them. You cannot imagine how far a little observation, carefully made by a man not tied up to the four humours; or sal, sulphur, and mercury; or to acid and alcali, which has of late prevailed, will carry a man in the curing of diseases, though very stubborn and dangerous, and that with very little and common things, and almost no medicines at all. Of this I could, from my own experience, convince you, were we together but a little while. But my letter is too long already. When I am writing to you, the pleasure of talking to you makes me forget you are a man of business, and have your hands full. I beg your pardon for it. It is time to dismiss you. I am,

Dear Sir,

Your most affectionate, and

most faithful humble servant,

John Locke.

Will. Molyneux

July 26, 1697

Dublin

Molyneux

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

Sir,

Dublin,

July 26, 1697.

THE latest favour I received from my ever honoured friend was of the 15th of June, and I have it before me, to acknowledge with all due gratitude. I was mightily surprised to see the “bishop of Worcester’s answer to your Letter;” I thought he would have let that matter fall, and have privately thanked you, and have said no more. This was the least I expected from him; for I think, indeed, he might have gone farther, and made his public acknowledgments to you. This had been like a man of ingenuity and candour: and by this he had been more valuable, in the opinion of all I converse with here, than by the shiftings, windings, and turnings, he uses in his last piece. You well observe the bishop has shown himself a man at his weapon; but I think him “Andabatarum more pugnare,” he winks as he fights. However, in the postscript he shows a sample of the old leaven, and must not let you go without coupling his observations on a socinian book, with his confutation of yours; as if there were something so agreeable between them, that they cannot be well separated. This is such an indirect practice, and seems such an invidious insinuation, that I cannot but give it the name of malice.

I am obliged to you for the confidence you put in me, by communicating your thoughts concerning Mr. T —— , more freely than you would do to every one. He has had his opposers here, as you will find by a book which I have sent to you by a gentleman’s servant, to be left for you at your lodging; wherein you will meet with a passage relating to yourself, which, though with decency, yet I fear will not redound much to the author’s advantage; for, with very great assurance, (an usual companion of ignorance) he undertakes to “demonstrate the immateriality of the soul,” and to show the falsity of your argumentation, wherein you assert, “that we have no proof, but that God may communicate a power of thinking to a certain system of matter.” But this is all but assertion and promise; we are so unhappy as yet to want this demonstration from this author, and I fear we shall ever want it from him; and I believe you will be of my opinion, when you read his book. The author is my acquaintance; but two things I shall never forgive in his book; the one is the foul language and opprobrious names he gives Mr. T —— ; the other is, upon several occasions, calling in the aid of the civil magistrate, and delivering Mr. T —— up to secular punishment. This, indeed, is a killing argument; but some will be apt to say, that where the strength of his reason failed him, there he flies to the strength of the sword. And this minds me of a business that was very surprising to many, even several prelates in this place, the presentment of some pernicious books, and their authors, by the grand jury of Middlesex. This is looked upon as a matter of dangerous consequence, to make our civil courts judges of religious doctrines; and no one knows, upon a change of affairs, whose turn it may be next to be condemned. But the example has been followed in our country; and Mr. T —— and his book have been presented here by a grand jury, not one of which (I am persuaded) ever read one leaf in “Christianity not mysterious.” Let the Sorbonne for ever now be silent; a learned grand jury, directed by as learned a judge, does the business much better. The dissenters here were the chief promoters of this matter; but, when I asked one of them, what if a violent church of England jury should present Mr. Baxter’s books as pernicious, and condemn them to the flames by the common executioner? he was sensible of the errour, and said, he wished it had never been done.

I must not forget to thank you for the countenance I have received from my lord chancellor Methwin, since his coming into Ireland. I know it is all owing to your, and your friends endeavours. My lord is a person from whom the kingdom expects very well, for hitherto his management has been very promising. Mr. Burridge is his chaplain, and expects very soon to be settled in a parish here in Dublin, and then he promises me to prosecute the Essay with vigour.

My brother gives you his most humble service. He is told, by Mr. Burridge, that you had sent him a book in medicine, but by what hand he could not inform him. He has such a value for every thing that comes from you, that he desired me to let you know that no such book came to his hands, or else he had not all this while deferred his acknowledgments.

I perceive you are so happy as to be acquainted with sir Richard Blackmore; he is an extraordinary person, and I admire his two prefaces as much as I do any parts of his books; the first, wherein he exposes the “licentiousness and immorality of our late poetry,” is incomparable; and the second, wherein he prosecutes the same subject, and delivers his thoughts concerning hypotheses, is no less judicious. And I am wholly of his opinion, relating to the latter. However, the “history and phenomena of nature” we may venture at; and this is what I propose to be the subject of a philosophic poem. Sir Richard Blackmore has exquisite touches of this kind dispersed in many places of his books; (to pass over Mopas’s song;) I’ll instance one particular, in the most profound speculations of Mr. Newton’s philosophy, thus curiously touched in King Arthur, Book IX. .

The constellations shine at his command,

He form’d their radiant orbs, and with his hand

He weigh’d, and put them off with such a force

As might preserve an everlasting course.

I doubt not but sir R. Blackmore, in these lines, had a regard to the proportionment of the projective motion to the “vis centripeta,” that keeps the planets in their continued courses.

I have by me some observations made by a judicious friend of mine, on both sir R. Blackmore’s poems; if they may be any ways acceptable to sir R. I shall send them to you; they are in the compass of a sheet of paper. And, were it proper, I should humbly desire you to procure for me, from sir R. the key to the persons names, in both his poems; most of the first I have already, and a great many in the second, but many I also want, which I should be very glad to understand. But if herein I desire any thing disagreeable, I beg sir Richard’s pardon, and desist.

Ever since you first mentioned to me, that Mons. Le Clerc might be enticed into Ireland by a moderate encouragement, it has sat grievous on my spirit, that it lay not in my power to procure for him what might be worth his acceptance. I should reckon it (next to your friendship) one of the greatest glories of my life, that I could be able any ways to contribute to transplanting him hither. The other day I ventured to mention it to a great prelate here, the bishop of —— . He was pleased to favour the proposal immediately, and gave me directions, that I should inquire whether Mons. Le Clerc would be willing to take orders in our church, and to submit to the oaths and injunctions hereof; and how far he is master of the English language. He told me, he doubted not but he might procure for him 150 or 200l. per annum, in some place of ease and retirement. Be pleased therefore, dear sir, to let me be informed in these particulars, and in whatever else you think requisite in managing this affair.

I have protracted this letter as if I had a design to kill you, by tiring you to death. I beg your excuse for it.

I am,

Dear Sir,

Your most affectionate humble servant,

Will. Molyneux.

John Locke

11 Sept. 1697

London

Molyneux

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

Dear Sir,

London,

11 Sept. 1697.

IF you have received my reply to the bishop, before this comes to your hand, I shall need say no more to the first paragraph of your obliging letter of the 20th of July. Mr. Churchill tells me, he has taken care you should have it with speed. I have ordered another to Mr. Burridge, who has, by his undertaking, some concernment now in my Essay. I am not delighted at all in controversy, and think I could spend my time to greater advantage to myself. But being attacked, as I am, and in a way that sufficiently justifies your remarks on it, I think every body will judge I had reason to defend myself; whether I have or no, so far as I have gone, the world must judge.

I think, with you, the dissenters were best consider, “that what is sauce for a goose, is sauce for a gander.” But they are a sort of men that will always be the same.

You thank me for what is owing to your own worth. Every one who knows you, will think (if he judges right) that he receives as much advantage as he gives by the countenance he shows you. However, I am obliged by your thanks to me; for, if I do not procure you as much good as you are capable of receiving from any one that comes to you from hence, it is my want of ability, and not want of will. My heart and inclination, wherein the friendship lies, will always be such, as I can presume will not displease you, in a man whom I am very sensible you love.

Here was, the last year, a book in physic published by a young lad not twenty, who had never seen the University. It was about the motion of the muscles, with as good an explication of it as any I have yet seen. I believe I might have spoke to Mr. Churchill to send your brother one of them for the sake of the author; (for as to the subject itself, I fear I shall never see it explained to my satisfaction:) whether he did it or no, I have not yet asked; but the book itself is not worth your brother’s inquiry or acknowledgment; though being written by such an author, made it a kind of curiosity. I should be very glad if I could do him here any service of greater importance. But I having now wholly laid by the study of physic, I know not what comes out new, or worth the reading, in that faculty. Pray give my humble service to your brother, and let me know whether he hath any children; for then I shall think myself obliged to send him one of the next edition of my book of Education, which, my bookseller tells me, is out of print; and I had much rather be at leisure to make some additions to that, and my Essay on Human Understanding, than be employed to defend myself against the groundless, and, as others think, trifling quarrel of the bishop. But his lordship is pleased to have it otherwise, and I must answer for myself as well as I can, till I have the good luck to be convinced.

I was not a little pleased to find what thoughts you had concerning hypotheses in physic. Though sir R. B.’s vein in poetry be what every body must allow him to have an extraordinary talent in, and though with you I exceedingly valued his first preface; yet I must own to you, there was nothing that I so much admired him for, as for what he says of hypotheses in his last. It seems to me so right, and is yet so much out of the way of the ordinary writers, and practitioners in that faculty, that it shows as great a strength and penetration of judgment, as his poetry has showed flights of fancy; and therefore I was very glad to find in you the same thoughts of it. And when he comes luckily in my way, I shall not forget your wishes, and shall acquaint him with the observations you mention. And the key you desire I shall send you, if it be fit to be asked of him, which I am at present in some doubt of.

Though I could myself answer many of your questions concerning Mons. Le Clerc; yet I have sent them to him himself, with the reason of them. I have not yet received his answer, the expectation whereof has delayed my writing to you for some time. In the mean time, till I hear from him, I thank you in his name and my own.

I shall be very glad to hear from you how the linen manufacture goes on, on that side the water, and what assistance the parliament there is like to give to it; for I wish prosperity to your country, and very particularly all manner of happiness to you. I am unfeignedly,

SIR,

Your most affectionate humble servant,

John Locke.

What I told you formerly of a storm coming against my book, proves no fiction. Besides what you will see I have taken notice of in my reply, Mr. Serjeant, a popish priest, whom you must needs have heard of, has bestowed a thick 8vo. upon my Essay, and Mr. Norris, as I hear, is writing hard against it. Shall I not be quite slain, think you, amongst so many notable combatants, and the Lord knows how many more to come?

Will. Molyneux

Sept. 11, 1697

Dublin

Locke

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

Honoured Sir,

Dublin,

Sept. 11, 1697.

MY last to you was of July 20, since which time I have not had the happiness of a line from you. But I am satisfied you are better employed; and indeed, when I see daily what swarms of angry wasps do arise against you, (besides many which reach not our view in this place,) I wonder not that you should be so far engaged as to have little time to throw away on me. The other day I met with the last effort of Mr. Edwards’s malice; I do now heartily pity the poor wretch; he is certainly mad, and no more to be taken notice of hereafter, than the railings of Oliver’s porter in Bethlem. I have seen also a philosophical writer against you, of another strain, one J. S. that writes against all ideists; this gentleman, though civil, yet to me is absolutely unintelligible, so unfortunate I am. Who he is I know not, but should be glad to learn from you; and what you think, in general, of his book.

Mr. T —— is, at last, driven out of our kingdom; the poor gentleman, by his imprudent management, had raised such an universal outcry, that it was even dangerous for a man to have been known once to converse with him. This made all wary men of reputation decline seeing him; insomuch that at last he wanted a meal’s meat, (as I am told,) and none would admit him to their tables. The little stock of money which he brought into this country being exhausted, he fell to borrowing from any one that would lend him half a crown, and run in debt for his wigs, cloaths, and lodging, (as I am informed,) and last of all, to complete his hardships, the parliament fell on his book, voted it to be burnt by the common hangman, and ordered the author to be taken into custody of the serjeant at arms, and to be prosecuted by the attorney-general at law. Hereupon he is fled out of this kingdom, and none here knows where he has directed his course. I did believe you might be a stranger to these proceedings a great while, unless I had intimated them to you; and that is one of my designs in writing this to you.

I am here very happy in the friendship of an honourable person, Mr. Molesworth, who is an hearty admirer and acquaintance of yours. We never meet but we remember you; he sometimes comes into my house, and tells me, it is not to pay a visit to me, but to pay his devotion to your image that is in my dining-room.

I should be glad to hear farther from you, concerning Mons. Le Clerc and Mons. Coste, in relation to what I formerly writ to you concerning those gentlemen.

I am, SIR,

Your most obliged, humble servant,

Will. Molyneux.

Oct. 4, 1697

Dublin

Locke

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

Honoured Sir,

Dublin,

Oct. 4, 1697.

I PERCEIVE we were each of us mindful of the other on the 11th of the last month, for of that date was your last to me, as you will find mine likewise to you bore the same.

You have already answered some of my impertinent inquiries in that letter; you tell me therein, who J. S. is that writes against you. I do not now wonder at the confusedness of his notions, or that they should be unintelligible to me. I should have much more admired, had they been otherwise. I expect nothing from Mr. Serjeant but what is abstruse in the highest degree.

I look for nothing else from Mr. Norris; I thought that gentleman had enough on it, in his first attempt on your Essay; but he is so over-run with father Malebranche, and Plato, that it is in vain to endeavour to set him right, and I give him up as an inconvincible enemy.

But, above all these, I should wonder at the bishop of Worcester’s obstinacy, did I not think that I partly know the reason thereof. He has been an old soldier in controversies, and has hitherto had the good luck of victory; but now in the latter end of his wars, to be laid on his back (as he thinks the world would certainly say, unless he has the last word) would wither all his former laurels, and lose his glory. Your reply to him is not yet come to hand; but I can wait with the more patience, because I am pretty well satisfied in the matter already.

I am very glad to understand that we are to expect another Edition of your Education, with additions. I never thought you writ too much on any subject whatever.

I have formerly written to you, to know farther concerning Mons. Coste, who translated some of your books into French. I fancy, by that gentleman’s inclinations to your works, he and I should agree very well. Pray let me know, whether to his Belles Lettres he has any skill in the mathematics, natural history, &c. as also what his circumstances are, as to his education, parentage, &c. For, according to these, I may judge whether I can give him any encouragement to come hither.

You had been troubled with this letter sooner, but that I waited for the enclosed, to satisfy your inquiry concerning our linen manufacture. You will find thereby, that we have framed a bill to be enacted for the encouragement thereof. This bill is now before the council of England, pursuant to our constitution of parliament. What alterations, additions, and amendments it may receive there, we know not; but I am apt to think you will have the consideration and modelling thereof at your committee of trade. We are very sensible, that the act we have drawn up (whereof the enclosed are the heads) is not so perfect and complete as it may be; but this we thought a fair beginning to so great an attempt, and that time must be given for a farther progress, and carrying it higher, by additional laws, as occasion may require. The woollen manufacture of England was not established at that high pitch, (to which now it is raised,) by any one law, or any one generation. It must be so with us in relation to our linen; but this, we hope, may be a fair step towards it: “Est aliquid prodire tenus, &c.”

James Hamilton of Tullymore, esq. is an indefatigable promoter of this design, and I may say indeed the whole scheme is owing to his contrivance. He is an hearty admirer of yours, and communicated to me the enclosed abstract purposely for your satisfaction; desiring me with it to give you his most humble service, and to request of you your thoughts concerning this matter, by the first leisure you can spare.

Whilst our house of commons were framing this bill, our lords justices communicated to us some papers which they had received from the lords justices of England, laid before them by your board. But these papers coming in a little too late, when we had just closed the bill, and a very little time before our last adjournment for three weeks; all we did with them was to remit them again to our lords justices and council, with the houses desire, that if their lordships should think fit to excerp any thing out of those papers, and add it to our act, whilst they had it before them, in order to be transmitted into England, their lordships might do therein as they pleased, and the house would agree to any such additions, when the act came before us transmitted in due form under the seal of England. Whether the lords justices will make any such additions out of those papers, I cannot yet tell; but I am sure there were many things in those papers that highly deserved to be put in execution.

My brother gives you his most humble service, and should be very proud of the present of your Education. For though he has yet only two daughters, yet he is in hopes of many sons; and the girls minds require as much framing as the boys, and by the same rules: and that I take to be the chief part of education. I am,

Yours most sincerely,

Will. Molyneux.

Oct. 28, 1697

Dublin

Locke

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

Dublin,

Oct. 28, 1697.

My most honoured Friend,

IF men could destroy by a quill, as they say porcupines do, I should think your death not very far off. But whatever venom they mix with their ink against you, I hope it is not mortal; I am sure in my opinion it is not the least harmful or dangerous. Your Reply to the bishop of Worcester shows how vainly the mightiest champion spends his darts at you, and with what force and strength of reason you return them on their own heads. But notwithstanding this, I verily believe he will offer again at his weak efforts; for he that was so fully possessed of his own sufficiency, as to think he could deal with the first letter to him, will certainly never lay down the cudgels till his blood be about his ears: and if he thought himself obliged in honour to justify his first blunders, much more will he think himself so now, when he is thrown over head and ears in the mire. To pass by all the rest of your Reply, (wherein you have given him many a severe wound,) I think he is no-where so clearly and disgracefully foiled, as by the conversation between you and your friend concerning his notions of nature and person. But, above all, the consequence you draw from thence, of his being obliged to write against his own Vindication of the Trinity, must needs wound him to the heart; and indeed I do not see how it is possible for him to avoid the force of that blow, by all his art and cunning. Yet write he will, I am sure on it, and pour forth abundance of words; but so he may for ever. I envy not the place of his amanuensis.

But all this while I have forgot to return you my acknowledgments for the favour of your book. I am extremely obliged to you for remembering me amongst your other friends, whenever you are pleased to oblige the learned world with any of your happy thoughts. I had no sooner perused them, but they were snatched out of my hands by my lord chancellor, (so covetous are all men of whatever comes from you,) and he has them yet.

Amongst the other small craft that appears against you, I met with one J. H.’s State of England, in relation to coin and trade. I hear the author’s name is Hodges. He is much of a class in this particular, as Mr. Serjeant, in relation to your Essay, that is, both to me unintelligible.

The enclosed is a sample of what this place produces against you: I wish you may not say, that it resembles our mountains and bogs, in being barren and useless. I have ventured to send you my short answer thereto: for a longer I think it did not deserve. I have not seen the bishop since this has passed; but we are so good friends that this business will cause no anger between us. I am

Your most obliged and humble servant,

Will. Molyneux.

Oct. 26, 1697

Johnstown

Molyneux

BISHOP OF —— — ‘S LETTER TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

Sir,

Johnstown,

Oct. 26, 1697.

I HAVE met with Mr. Locke’s Reply to the bishop of Worcester, and have had leisure to look it over here. I meddle not with the controversy between them, but confess I am a little surprized at what I find and 96, where we have these words: “To talk of the certainty of faith, seems all one to me, as to talk of the knowledge of believing.” And, “When it is brought to certainty, faith is destroyed:” And, “Bring it to certainty, and it ceases to be faith.” And he in terms owns, , “With me to know and to be certain, is the same thing; what I know, that I am certain of; and what I am certain of, that I know.” And , “Knowledge I find in myself, and I conceive in others, consists in the perception of the agreement or disagreement of the immediate objects of the mind in thinking, which I call ideas.” And, , “Certainty consists in the perception of the agreement or disagreement of two ideas.” Now to me it seems, that according to Mr. Locke I cannot be said to know any thing except there be two ideas in my mind, and all the knowledge I have must be concerning the relation these two ideas have to one another, and that I can be certain of nothing else; which, in my opinion, excludes all certainty of sense and of single ideas, all certainty of consciousness, such as willing, believing, knowing, &c. and, as he confesses, all certainty of faith; and lastly, all certainty of remembrance, of what I have formerly demonstrated, as soon as I have forgot, or do not actually think of the demonstration. For I suppose you are well aware, that in demonstrating mathematical propositions, it is not always from actual perception of the agreement of ideas, that we assume other propositions formerly demonstrated to infer the conclusion, but from memory: and yet we do not think ourselves less certain on that account. If this be the importance of Mr. L.’s words, as it seems to me to be, then we are not certain of the acts of our mind; we are not certain of any thing that remains in our minds merely by the strength of our memory; and lastly, we are not certain of any proposition, though God and man witness the truth of it to us: and then judge how little certainty is left in the world, and how near this last comes to Mr. Toland’s proposition, that authority or testimony is only “a means of information, not a ground of persuasion.” For I must own, that I think I am only persuaded of the truth of a thing, in proportion to the certainty I have of it: and if knowledge and certainty be reciprocally the same, and consist in the perception of the agreement or disagreement of two ideas; where I do not perceive these, though God and man, nay the whole world should testify to me that they do agree or disagree, I cannot be certain of it, I must profess myself of another opinion; and I think I am as certain there was such a man as Mr. L. from the testimony of you and other circumstances, though I perceive no agreement or disagreement in this case between the two ideas, to convince me of his being; as that the three angles of a straight-lined triangle are equal to two right angles, where I actually perceive the agreement, or rather equality: or, that the area of a cyclois is equal to triple the generating circle, of which I am certain by memory, though I do not at present perceive the demonstration, or any agreement between the ideas of three circles and a cyclois, only remember that I once perceived it.

Let me farther add, that agreement and disagreement are metaphorical terms when applied to ideas; for agreement properly, I think, either signifies, first, a compact between two persons; or, secondly, two things fitting one another, as the two parts of a tally; or, thirdly, the likeness of two things, as of a pair of coach-horses; or, fourthly, the aptitude of two things to support or preserve one another. So several meats agree with the stomach; but I do not find, that in a proposition the ideas have an agreement in any of these senses; and I rather think the old way of expressing this matter ought to be retained. I learned in Smiglecius, that when the “species intelligibilis” of the predicate was the same with the species of the subject, the one might be affirmed of the other: and when the “medius terminus” was the same with the one extreme term in one of the premises, and the other extreme the same with it in the other of the premises, the one might be affirmed of the other in the conclusion, because of the old axiom: “Quæ sunt idem uni tertio, sunt idem inter se.” You may use the metaphorical term of agreement here instead of identity; but Mr. L. has told us, , That “metaphorical expressions (which seldom terminate in truth) should be as much as possible avoided, when men undertake to deliver clear and distinct apprehensions, and exact notions of things.”

I do find that men’s thoughts do not differ so much as their words, and that most men are of one mind, when they come to understand one another, and have the same views; and hence many controversies are only verbal. I doubt not but by my difference from Mr. L. in this matter may be of the same nature; and perhaps, if I had carefully read his book of Human Understanding, I might perceive it; but I have neither opportunity, leisure, or inclination to do so, and believe a great part of the world to be in the same circumstances with me; and I verily believe, that the expressions I have noted in his reply, will seem unwary to them as well as to me.

I do find he claims a liberty that will not be allowed him by all, , “to please himself in his terms,” so they be used constantly “in the same and a known sense.” I remember others have claimed the same liberty under the notion of making their own dictionary; but I reckon the changing a term, though I declare my sense, and forewarn the reader of it, to be a very great injury to the world; and to introduce a new one, where there is one altogether to signify the same thing, equally injurious; and that a man has only this liberty where he introduces a new thing, that has yet no name. And I believe you see my reasons for being of this opinion, and therefore shall not mention them. Let me only observe, that the want of this caution seems to me to have brought most of Mr. L.’s trouble on him. Words were indeed arbitrary signs of things in those that first imposed them, but they are not to us. When we use the best caution we can, we are apt to transgress in changing them; and when we do so out of weakness, we must ask pardon, but must not claim it as liberty, it being really a fault. A few minutes lying on my hands, has given you this trouble; and I know your kindness to Mr. L. will not make it ungrateful to you, whilst it assures you that I am

Your most affectionate humble servant.

I could never comprehend any necessity for a criterion of certainty to the understanding, any more than of one to the eye, to teach it when it sees. Let the eye be rightly disposed, and apply an object to it, if duly applied, it will force it to see: and so apply an object to an understanding duly qualified, and if the arguments or object be as they ought to be, they will force the understanding to assent, and remove all doubts. And I can no more tell, what is in the object, or arguments, that ascertains my understanding, than I can tell what it is in light, that makes me see. I must say, that the same God that ordered light to make me see, ordered truth, or rather certain objects, to ascertain my understanding; and I believe Mr. L. can hardly give any other reason why his agreement, &c. of ideas should cause certainty.

Will. Molyneux

Oct. 27, 1697

Dublin

MR. MOLYNEUX’S ANSWER TO THE BISHOP.

My Lord,

Dublin,

Oct. 27, 1697.

I AM extremely obliged to your lordship, that having a few minutes lying on your hands in your retirement from this town, you are pleased to bestow them on my friend and me. I should have acknowledged the favour more early, had your servant staid for an answer when he delivered yours to me; but he was gone out of my reach before I was aware of it.

And now, my lord, all the answer I shall trouble your lordship with at present is this, that your lordship is much in the right on it, that had you read Mr. Locke’s Essay of Human Understanding more carefully and throughout, you had never made the objections you raise against him in your letter to me; for your lordship would have found his fourth book abundantly satisfactory in the difficulties you propose, and particularly the 2d and 18th chapters of the fourth book, are a full answer to your lordship’s letter.

But your lordship says, you have neither opportunity, leisure, or inclination to read the Essay. My lord, I would not then have leisure or inclination to animadvert on a book, that I had not (if not inclination) at least leisure to read. This, with submission, I cannot but say is great partiality. If your lordship says, your letter relates to his reply to the bishop of Worcester; neither will this do, in my humble opinion; seeing your lordship seems to surmise (as indeed you guess rightly) that the Essay might have set you right in this matter. I am,

My Lord,

Your lordship’s most humble servant,

Will. Molyneux.

Dec. 18, 1697

Dublin

Locke

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

Dear Sir,

Dublin,

Dec. 18, 1697.

IT is now above three months since I heard from you, your last being of Sept. 11. You will therefore excuse my impatience, if I can forbear no longer, and send this merely to know how you do. It is an anguishing thought to me, that you should be subject to the common frailties and fate of mankind; but it would be some alleviation to my trouble, that if you are ill, I should know the worst of it. This has so wholly taken up my mind at present, that I have no inclination to write one word more to you in this, but again to repeat my request to you, that you would let me know how you are; for till I know this, I am dissatisfied, I am extremely uneasy; but for ever shall be

Your most affectionate admirer,

and devoted servant,

Will. Molyneux.

John Locke

Jan. 10, 1697-8

Oates

Molyneux

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

Dear Sir,

Oates,

Jan. 10, 1697-8.

YOUR gentle and kind reproof of my silence, has greater marks of true friendship in it, than can be expressed in the most elaborate professions, or be sufficiently acknowledged by a man, who has not the opportunity nor ability to make those returns he would. Though I have had less health, and more business since I writ to you last than ever I had for so long together in my life; yet neither the one nor the other had kept me so long a truant, had not the concurrence of other causes, drilled me on from day to day, in a neglect of what I frequently purposed, and always thought myself obliged to do. Perhaps the listlessness my indisposition constantly kept me in, made me too easily hearken to such excuses; but the expectation of hearing every day from Mons. Le Clerc, that I might send you his answer, and the thoughts that I should be able to send your brother an account, that his curious treatise concerning the chafers in Ireland was printed, were at least the pretences that served to humour my laziness. Business kept me in town longer than was convenient for my health: all the day from my rising was commonly spent in that, and when I came home at night, my shortness of breath, and panting for want of it, made me ordinarily so uneasy, that I had no heart to do any thing: so that the usual diversion of my vacant hours forsook me, and reading itself was a burthen to me. In this estate I lingered along in town to December, till I betook myself to my wonted refuge, in the more favourable air and retirement of this place. That gave me presently relief against the constant oppression of my lungs, whilst I sit still: but I find such a weakness of them still remain, that if I stir ever so little, I am immediately out of breath, and the very dressing or undressing me is a labour that I am fain to rest after to recover my breath; and I have not been once out of my house since I came last hither. I wish nevertheless that you were here with me to see how well I am: for you would find, that, sitting by the fire’s side, I could bear my part in discoursing, laughing, and being merry with you, as well as ever I could in my life. If you were here (and, if wishes of more than one could bring you, you would be here to-day) you would find three or four in the parlour after dinner, who, you would say, passed their afternoons as agreeably and as jocundly as any people you have this good while met with. Do not therefore figure to yourself, that I am languishing away my last hours under an unsociable despondency and the weight of my infirmity. It is true, I do not count upon years of life to come; but I thank God I have not many uneasy hours here in the four-and-twenty; and if I can have the wit to keep myself out of the stifling air of London, I see no reason but, by the grace of God, I may get over this winter, and that terrible enemy of mine may use me no worse than the last did, which as severe, and as long as it was, let me yet see another summer.

What you say to me in yours of the 4th of October, concerning the bishop of W……, you will, I believe, be confirmed in, if his answer to my second letter, of which I shall say nothing to you yet, be got to you.

Mr. Coste is now in the house with me here, and is tutor to my lady Masham’s son. I need not, I think, answer your questions about his skill in mathematics and natural history: I think it is not much; but he is an ingenious man, and we like him very well for our purpose; and I have a particular obligation to you, for the reason why you inquired concerning him.

I come now to yours of the 28th of October, wherein you have found by this time, that you prophecied right concerning the bishop of W……, and if you can remember what you said therein, concerning abundance of words, you will not, I suppose, forbear smiling, when you read the first leaf of his last answer.

If there be not an evidence of sense and truth, which is apt and fitted to prevail on every human understanding, as far as it is open and unprejudiced; there is at least a harmony of understandings in some men, to whom sense and nonsense, truth and falsehood, appear equally in the respective discourses they meet with. This I find perfectly so between you and me, and it serves me to no small purpose to keep me in countenance. When I see a man disinterested as you are, a lover of truth as I know you to be, and one that has clearness and coherence enough of thought to make long mathematical, i. e. sure deductions, pronounce of J. H. and J. S.’s books, that they are unintelligible to you; I do not presently condemn myself of pride, prejudice, or a perfect want of understanding, for laying aside those authors, because I can find neither sense or coherence in them. If I could think that discourses and arguments to the understanding were like the several sorts of cates to different palates and stomachs, some nauseous and destructive to one, which are pleasant and restorative to another; I should no more think of books and study, and should think my time better employed at push-pin than in reading or writing. But I am convinced to the contrary: I know there is truth opposite to falsehood, that it may be found if people will, and is worth the seeking, and is not only the most valuable, but the pleasantest thing in the world. And therefore I am no more troubled and disturbed with all the dust that is raised against it, than I should be to see from the top of an high steeple, where I had clear air and sun-shine, a company of great boys or little boys (for it is all one) throw up dust in the air, which reached not me, but fell down in their own eyes.

Your answer to your friend the bishop was certainly a very fit and full one to what he had said, and I am obliged to you for it: but he nevertheless thought his objections so good, that I imagine he communicated them to my antagonist; for you will find the very same in his answer, and almost in the same words. But they will receive an answer at large in due time.

It will not be at all necessary to say any thing to you concerning the linen bill, which made so great a part of your letter of Oct. 4th, and was the whole business of that of Oct. 16th. You know (I believe) as well as I, what became of that bill. Pray return my humble thanks to Mr. Hamilton for his kind expressions concerning me, and for the favour he did me in thinking me any ways able to serve his country in that matter. I am so concerned for it, and zealous in it, that I desire you to assure him, and to believe yourself, that I will neglect no pains or interest of mine to promote it as far as I am able; and I think it a shame, that whilst Ireland is so capable to produce flax and hemp, and able to nourish the poor at so cheap a rate, and consequently to have their labour upon so easy terms, that so much money should go yearly out of the king’s dominions, to enrich foreigners, for those materials, and the manufactures made out of them, when his people of Ireland, by the advantage of their soil, situation, and plenty, might have every penny of it, if that business were but once put in the right way. I perceive by one of your letters, that you have seen the proposals for an act sent from hence. I would be very glad that you and Mr. Hamilton, or any other man, whom you know able, and a disinterested well-wisher of his country, would consider them together, and tell me whether you think that project will do, or wherein it is either impracticable or will fail, and what may be added or altered in it to make it effectual to that end. I know, to a man, a stranger to your country, as I am, many things may be overseen, which by reason of the circumstances of the place, or state of the people, may in practice have real difficulties. If there be any such in regard of that project, you will do me a favour to inform me of them. The short is, I mightily have it upon my heart to get the linen manufacture established in a flourishing way in your country. I am sufficiently sensible of the advantages it will be to you, and shall be doubly rejoiced in the success of it, if I should be so happy that you and I could be instrumental in it, and have the chief hand in forming any thing that might conduce to it. Employ your thoughts therefore I beseech you about it, and be assured what help I can give to it here shall be as readily and as carefully employed, as if you and I alone were to reap all the profit of it.

I have not yet heard a word from Mons. le Clerc, in answer to my inquiries, and the questions you asked, or else you had heard sooner from me. I must beg you to return my acknowledgments to Mr. Molesworth in the civilest language you can find, for the great compliment you sent me from him. If he could see my confusion as often as I read that part of your letter, that would express my sense of it better than any words I am master of. I can only say that I am his most humble servant, and I have been not a little troubled, that I could not meet with the opportunities I sought to improve the advantages I proposed to myself in an acquaintance with so ingenious and extraordinary a man as he is.

I read your brother’s treatise, which he did me the honour to put into my hands, with great pleasure, and thought it so unreasonable to rob the public of so grateful a present by any delay of mine, that I forthwith put it into Dr. Sloane’s hand to be published, and I expected to have seen it in print long ere this time. What has retarded it I have not yet heard from Dr. Sloane, who has not writ to me since I came into the country: but I make no doubt but he takes care of so curious a piece, and the world will have it speedily. I must depend on you, not only for excusing my silence to yourself, but I must be obliged to you to excuse me to your brother for not having written to him myself to thank him for the favour he did me. I hope ere long to find an opportunity to testify my respects to him more in form, which he would find I have in reality for him, if any occasion of that kind should come in my way. In the mean time I believe, if he saw the length of this letter, he would think it enough for one of a family to be persecuted by so voluminous a scribbler, and would be glad that I spared him. I am both his, and,

Dear Sir,

Your most affectionate,

and most humble servant,

John Locke.

Will. Molyneux

March 15, 1697-8

Dublin

Locke

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

Dear Sir,

Dublin,

March 15, 1697-8.

IN the midst of my trouble for your long silence, soon after I had writ to two or three friends to inquire after your health, I was happily relieved by yours of last January the 10th from Oates. I am heartily concerned that you passed over the last winter with so much indisposition: but I rejoice with you that you have escaped it, and hope you will yet pass over many more. I could make to you great complaints likewise of my own late illness; but they are all drowned in this one, that I am hindered for a while in seeking a remedy for them. I fully purposed to be at the Bath this spring early, but I am disappointed at present, and cannot stir from hence till my lord chancellor Methwin return to this kingdom. It has pleased the young lord Woodstock, by directions from his majesty, to choose my lord chancellor Methwin, Mr. Van Homrigh, present lord mayor of this city, and myself, to be his guardians, and managers of his affairs in this kingdom. Nothing can be done without two of us; so I am tied by the leg. Were it only in my health that I am disappointed, I could the easier bear it; but I am delayed from embracing my dear friend, which is most grievous of all. Yet I hope it will be so but for a time; but if my lord chancellor comes over in any convenient season, I will certainly get loose. But this I cannot hope for till the parliament in England rises. I should be glad to know from you when that is expected; for indeed they bear very hard upon us in Ireland. How justly they can bind us without our consent and representatives, I leave the author of the Two Treatises of Government to consider. But of this I shall trouble you farther another time, for you will hear more hereafter.

I have seen the bishop of Worcester’s answer to your second letter. It is of a piece with the rest, and you know my thoughts of them already. I begin to be almost of old Hobbes’s opinion, that, were it men’s interest, they would question the truth of Euclid’s Elements, as now they contest almost as full evidences.

I am very glad Mons. Coste is so well settled as you tell me; I designed fully to invite him over hither; and if you know any other ingenious Frenchman of that sort, or any such hereafter comes to your knowledge, I should be very glad you would give me intimation thereof.

I had certainly answered that part of your letter relating to the linen manufacture, but that I daily expected to do it more effectually by Mr. Hamilton himself, who gave me hopes of his going into England, and was resolved personally to wait on you about it. He is master of the whole mystery (and that I cannot pretend to be) and would have discoursed you most satisfactorily concerning it. I promised him a letter to you whenever he goes over, which will now be very speedily, and then I doubt not but you will concert matters together much for the good of this poor kingdom.

My brother gives you his most humble service, and thanks you for the care you took about his discourse concerning chafers. We hear from Dr. Sloane that it is printed. I am

Your most humble servant,

Will. Molyneux.

John Locke

April 6, 1698

Oates

Molyneux

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

Dear Sir,

Oates,

April 6, 1698.

THERE is none of the letters that ever I received from you gave me so much trouble as your last of March 15. I was told that you resolved to come into England early in the spring, and lived in the hopes of it more than you can imagine. I do not mean that I had greater hopes of it than you can imagine; but it enlivened me, and contributed to the support of my spirits more than you can think. But your letter has quite dejected me again. The thing I above all things long for, is to see, and embrace, and have some discourse with you before I go out of this world. I meet with so few capable of truth, or worthy of a free conversation, such as becomes lovers of truth, that you cannot think it strange if I wish for some time with you, for the exposing, sifting, and rectifying of my thoughts. If they have gone any thing farther in the discovery of truth than what I have already published, it must be by your encouragement that I must go on to finish some things that I have already begun; and with you I hoped to discourse my other yet crude and imperfect thoughts, in which if there were any thing useful to mankind, if they were opened and deposited with you, I know them safe lodged for the advantage of truth some time or other. For I am in doubt whether it be fit for me to trouble the press with any new matter; or if I did, I look on my life as so near worn out, that it would be folly to hope to finish any thing of moment in the small remainder of it. I hoped therefore, as I said, to have seen you, and unravelled to you that which lying in the lump unexplicated in my mind, I scarce yet know what it is myself; for I have often had experience, that a man cannot well judge of his own notions, till either by setting them down in paper, or in discoursing them to a friend, he has drawn them out, and as it were spread them fairly before himself. As for writing, my ill health gives me little heart or opportunity for it; and of seeing you I begin now to despair. And that which very much adds to my affliction in the case is, that you neglect your own health on considerations, I am sure, that are not worth your health; for nothing, if expectations were certainties, can be worth it. I see no likelihood of the parliament’s rising yet this good while; and when they are up, who knows whether the man, you expect to relieve you, will come to you presently, or at all. You must therefore lay by that business for a while which detains you, or get some other body into it, if you will take that care of your health this summer which you designed, and it seems to require: and if you defer it till the next, who knows but your care of it may then come too late. There is nothing that we are such spendthrifts of as of health; we spare every thing sooner than that, though whatever we sacrifice it to is worth nothing without it. Pardon me the liberty I take with you: you have given me an interest in you; and it is a thing of too much value to me, to look coldly on, whilst you are running into any inconvenience or danger, and say nothing. If that could be any spur to you to hasten your journey hither, I would tell you I have an answer ready for the press, which I should be glad you should see first. It is too long: the plenty of matter of all sorts, which the gentleman affords me, is the cause of its too great length, though I have passed by many things worthy of remarks: but what may be spared of what there is, I would be glad should be blotted out by your hand. But this between us.

Amongst other things I would be glad to talk with you about before I die, is that which you suggest at the bottom of the first page of your letter. I am mightily concerned for the place meant in the question, you say you will ask the author of the treatise you mentioned, and wish extremely well to it; and would be very glad to be informed by you what would be best for it, and debate with you the ways to compose it. But this cannot be done by letters; the subject is of too great extent, the views too large, and the particulars too many to be so managed. Come therefore yourself, and come as well prepared in that matter as you can. But if you talk with others on that point there, mention not me to any body on that subject; only let you and I try what good we can do for those whom we wish well to. Great things have sometimes been brought about from small beginnings well laid together.

Pray present my most humble service to your brother; I should be glad of an opportunity to do him some service. That which he thanks me for, in my care about his discourse concerning the chafers, was a service to the public, and he owes me no thanks for it. I am,

Dear Sir,

Your faithful, and most humble servant,

John Locke.

Will. Molyneux

April 19, 1698

Dublin

Locke

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

Dublin,

April 19, 1698.

Most honoured dear Sir,

I HAVE formerly had thoughts of coming into England, as I have told you on occasion of my health. But since the receipt of yours of April 6, which came to my hands but this morning, that consideration weighs but little with me. The desire of seeing and conversing with you, has drowned all other expectations from my journey, and now I am resolved to accomplish it, let what will come on it. Your persuasions and arguments I think have something in them of incantation: I am sure their charms are so powerful on me on all occasions, I can never resist them. I shall therefore embrace you, God willing, as soon as ever the parliament of England rises. I fix this period now, not so much in expectation of our chancellor’s arrival, as on another account. My dear friend must therefore know, that the consideration of what I mentioned in my last, from the incomparable author of the Treatise, &c. has moved me to put pen to paper, and commit some thoughts of mine on that subject to the press in a small 8vo. intitled, “The Case of Ireland’s being bound by Acts of Parliament in England stated.” This you’ll say is a nice subject, but I think I have treated it with that caution and submission, that it cannot justly give any offence; insomuch that I scruple not to put my name to it; and by advice of some good friends here, have presumed to dedicate it to his Majesty. I have ordered some of them to Mr. Churchill, to be presented to you and some of your friends; and they are now upon the road towards you. I have been very free in giving you my thoughts on your pieces; I should be extremely obliged to you for the like freedom on your side upon mine. I cannot pretend this to be an accomplished performance; it was done in haste, and intended to overtake the proceedings at Westminster; but it comes too late for that: what effect it may possibly have in time to come, God and the wise council of England only know; but were it again under my hands, I could considerably amend and add to it. But till I either see how the parliament at Westminster is pleased to take it, or till I see them risen, I do not think it adviseable for me to go on t’other side the water. Though I am not apprehensive of any mischief from them, yet God only knows what resentments captious men may take on such occasions.

My brother gives you his most respectful service: he has now ready a discourse on our giant’s causeway, which indeed is a stupendous natural rarity: he has addressed it to Dr. Lister; but you will soon see it in the transactions.

Mr. Burridge goes on now with some speed: I had lately an occasion of writing to Mr. Churchill, and I gave him an account of his progress. I hope the whole will be finished soon after Midsummer; and indeed in my opinion he performs it incomparably. I am,

Dear Sir,

Your most affectionate humble servant,

Will. Molyneux.

John Locke

July 9, 1698

London

Molyneux

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

Dear Sir,

London,

July 9, 1698.

I AM just come to London, where your former promise, and what Mr. Churchill since tells me, makes me hope to see you speedily. I long mightily to welcome you hither, and to remit, to that happy time, abundance that I may say to you. For I am,

Dear Sir,

Your most affectionate, humble servant,

John Locke.

Will. Molyneux

Sept. 20, 1698

Dublin

Locke

MR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

Honoured dear Sir,

Dublin,

Sept. 20, 1698.

I ARRIVED here safely the 15th instant; and now that the ruffling and fatigue of my journey is a little over, I sit down to a task, which I must confess is the hardest I was ever under in my life; I mean, expressing my thanks to you suitable to the favours I received from you, and suitable to the inward sense I have of them in my mind. Were it possible for me to do either, I should in some measure be satisfied; but my inability of paying my debts, makes me ashamed to appear before my creditor. However, thus much, with the strictest sincerity, I will venture to assert to you, that I cannot recollect, through the whole course of my life, such signal instances of real friendship, as when I had the happiness of your company for five weeks together in London. It is with the greatest satisfaction imaginable that I recollect what then passed between us, and I reckon it the happiest scene of my whole life. That part thereof, especially, which I passed at Oates, has made such an agreeable impression on my mind, that nothing can be more pleasing. To all in that excellent family, I beseech you, give my most humble respects. It is my duty to make my acknowledgments there in a particular letter; but I beg of you to make my excuse for omitting it at this time, because I am a little pressed by some business that is thrown upon me since my arrival. To which also you are obliged for not being troubled at present with a more tedious letter from,

SIR,

Your most obliged,

and entirely affectionate friend and servant,

Will. Molyneux.

John Locke

Sept. 29, 1698

London

Molyneux

MR. LOCKE TO MR. MOLYNEUX.

Dear Sir,

London,

Sept. 29, 1698.

YOURS of the 20th has now discharged me from my daily employment of looking upon the weather-cock, and hearkening how loud the wind blowed. Though I do not like this distance, and such a ditch betwixt us, yet I am glad to hear that you are safe and sound on the other side the water. But pray speak not in so magnificent and courtly a style of what you received from me here. I lived with you, and treated you as my friend, and therefore used no ceremony, nor can receive any thanks but what I owe you doubly, both for your company, and the pains you were at to bestow that happiness on me. If you keep your word, and do me the same kindness again next year, I shall have reason to think you value me more than you say, though you say more than I can with modesty read.

I find you were beset with business when you writ your letter to me, and do not wonder at it; but yet, for all that, I cannot forgive your silence concerning your health and your son. My service to him, your brother, and Mr. Burridge, and do me the justice to believe, that I am, with a perfect affection,

Dear Sir,

Your most humble and most faithful servant,

John Locke.

October 27, 1698

Oates

Burridge

MR. LOCKE TO MR. BURRIDGE.

Sir,

Oates,

October 27, 1698.

YOU guessed not amiss, when you said, in the beginning of yours of the 13th instant, that you gave me the trouble of a letter; for I have received few letters in my life, the contents whereof have so much troubled and afflicted me, as that of yours. I parted with my excellent friend, when he went from England, with all the hopes and promises, to myself, of seeing him again, and enjoying him longer in the next spring. This was a satisfaction that helped me to bear our separation; and the short taste I had of him here, in this our first interview, I hoped would be made up in a longer conversation, which he promised me the next time: but it has served only to give me a greater sense of my loss, in an eternal farewell in this world. Your earlier acquaintance may have given you a longer knowledge of his virtue and excellent endowments; a fuller sight, or greater esteem of them, you could not have than I. His worth, and his friendship to me, made him an inestimable treasure, which I must regret the loss of, the little remainder of my life, without any hopes of repairing it any way. I should be glad, if what I owed the father could enable me to do any service to his son. He deserves it for his own sake (his father has more than once talked to me of him) as well as for his father’s. I desire you therefore to assure those who have the care of him, that if there be any thing wherein I, at this distance, may be any way serviceable to young Mr. Molyneux, they cannot do me a greater pleasure than to give me the opportunity to show, that my friendship died not with him.

Pray give my most humble service to Dr. Molyneux, and to his nephew. I am,

SIR,

Your most faithful and humble servant,

John Locke.

Tho. Molyneux

Aug. 27, 1692

Dublin

Locke

DR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

Sir,

Dublin,

Aug. 27, 1692.

I AM very sensible of your great civility in remembering me upon so short an acquaintance as I had with you in Holland, so long time since; and I assure you, without any compliment, I reckon it amongst the most fortunate accidents of my life, my so luckily falling into your conversation, which was so candid, diverting, and instructive, that I still reap the benefit and satisfaction of it. Some years after I left you in Holland, upon my return for England, I contracted no small intimacy with Dr. Sydenham, on the account of having been known to you his much esteemed friend; and I found him so accurate an observer of diseases, so thoroughly skilled in all useful knowledge of his profession, and withal so communicative, that his acquaintance was a very great advantage to me: and all this I chiefly owe to you, Sir, besides the information of many useful truths, and a great deal of very pleasing entertainment I have met with, in the perusal of your lately published writings; so that, on many accounts, I must needs say, there are very few men in the world, to whom I can, with the like sincerity, profess myself to be, as I am,

Dear Sir,

Your most real friend,

and very humble and obliged servant,

Tho. Molyneux.

John Locke

Nov. 1, 1692

Oates

Molyneux

MR. LOCKE TO DR. MOLYNEUX.

Sir,

Oates,

Nov. 1, 1692.

THE indisposition of my health, which drove me out of London, and keeps me still in the country, must be an excuse for my so long silence. The very great civility you express to me in your letter, makes me hope your pardon for the slowness of my answer, whereby I hope you will not measure the esteem and respect I have for you. That your own distinguishing merit, amongst the rest of my countrymen I met with at Leyden, has so settled in me, that before the occasion your brother’s favour lately gave me to inquire after you, I often remembered you, and it was not without regret I considered you at a distance that allowed me not the hopes of renewing and improving my acquaintance with you. There being nothing I value so much, as ingenious knowing men, think it not strange that I laid old on the first opportunity to bring myself again into your thoughts. You must take it as an exercise of your goodness, drawn on you by your own merit; for, whatever satisfaction I gain to myself in having recovered you again, I can propose no advantage to you, in the offer of a very useless and infirm acquaintance, who can only boast that he very much esteems you.

That which I always thought of Dr. Sydenham living, I find the world allows him now he is dead, and that he deserved all that you say of him. I hope the age has many who will follow his example, and by the way of accurate practical observation, as he has so happily begun, enlarge the history of diseases, and improve the art of physic, and not by speculative hypotheses fill the world with useless, though pleasing visions. Something of this kind permit me to promise myself one day from your judicious pen. I know nothing that has so great an encouragement from mankind as this.

I beg you to present my most humble service to your brother, whom I forbear now to interrupt, in the midst of his parliamentary affairs, whereof I know a great part must fall to his share, with my thanks for the favour of his of the 15th of October, which lately found me out safe here. Let him know that I am exceedingly sensible of the obligation, and shall at large make my acknowledgments to him as soon as good manners will allow it. I am,

SIR,

Your most humble and most faithful servant,

John Locke.

Tho. Molyneux

Sept. 20, 1692

Dublin

Locke

DR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

Sir,

Dublin,

Sept. 20, 1692.

I AM much concerned to hear you have your health no better, and on this occasion cannot but deplore the great losses the intellectual word in all ages has suffered, by the strongest and soundest minds possessing the most infirm and sickly bodies. Certainly there must be some very powerful cause for this in nature, or else we could not have so many instances, where the knife cuts the sheath, as the French materially express it: and if so, this must be reckoned among the many other inseparable miseries that attend human affairs.

I could wish the physician’s art were so powerful and perfect, as, in some measure, to prevent so great an evil; but we find where once nature, or the “Oeconomia Animalis” of the body, is so depraved, as not to cooperate with medicine, all remedies, and the courses of them, prove wholly ineffectual, or to very little purpose. But still the more imperfect physic is, so much the more is owing to those, who in the least improve so difficult a province, which certainly has been considerably advanced by some late English authors; and that puts me in mind to desire of you your thoughts, or what other learned physicians you converse with say, concerning Dr. Morton and his late Exercitations on Fevers. As for his general theory of them, I esteem it, as all others of this kind, a sort of mere waking dream, that men are strangely apt to fall into, when they think long of a subject, beginning quite at the wrong end; for by framing such conceits in their fancies, they vainly think to give their understandings light, whilst the things themselves are still, and perhaps ever must remain, in darkness.

In his first exercitation that treats of agues, I don’t find he has said any thing very material, or worth notice, that the world did not sufficiently know before, unless it were some histories of the irregular shapes and symptoms this distemper appears under, which I think may be very instructive to the physician, and of great ease and advantage to the sick.

But his practical remarks in his second exercitation about continuing and remitting fevers, if they be judiciously founded upon many and steady observations, so that they may safely pass into a rule, must certainly be of great moment in directing the management and cure of fevers. I confess my experience in this distemper as yet falls something too short for to determine positively, whether all his observations be real and well grounded; but, as far as I can judge at present, several of them do hold good.

I remember to have heard Dr. Morton was once a presbyterian preacher; and though he were, this does not make him a jot the less capable in above twenty years practice, to have carefully observed the accidents that naturally occur in the progress of a disease; and if he be but a true and judicious register, it is all I desire from him.

You see I have taken great freedom in giving a character according to my apprehensions of this author, but it is only to encourage you to use the same liberty; for if, at your leisure, you would let me know your own thoughts, or what other candid men say concerning him and his methods of cure, or any other useful tract that comes abroad, you will extremely oblige,

SIR,

Your most obedient humble servant,

Tho. Molyneux.

John Locke

Jan. 20, 1692-3

Oates

Molyneux

MR. LOCKE TO DR. MOLYNEUX.

Sir,

Oates,

Jan. 20, 1692-3.

I MUST acknowledge the care you take of my health, in a way wherein you so kindly apply to my mind; and if I could persuade myself that my weak constitution was owing to that strength of mind you ascribe to me, or accompanied with it, I should find therein, if not a remedy, yet a great relief against the infirmities of my body. However, I am not the less obliged to you for so friendly an application; and if the cordial you prescribe be not to be had (for I know none equal to a judicious and capacious mind) your kindness is not to be blamed, who I am confident wish me that satisfaction, or any thing else that could contribute to my health.

The doctor, concerning whom you inquire of me, had, I remember, when I lived in town, and conversed among the physicians there, a good reputation amongst those of his own faculty. I can say nothing of his late book of fevers, having not read it myself, nor heard it spoke of by others: but I perfectly agree with you concerning general theories, that they are, for the most part, but a sort of waking dreams, with which, when men have warmed their own heads, they pass into unquestionable truths, and then the ignorant world must be set right by them. Though this be, as you rightly observe, beginning at the wrong end, when men lay the foundation in their own fancies, and then endeavour to suit the phenomena of diseases, and the cure of them, to those fancies. I wonder that, after the pattern Dr. Sydenham has set them of a better way, men should return again to that romance way of physic. But I see it is easier and more natural, for men to build castles in the air, of their own, than to survey well those that are to be found standing. Nicely to observe the history of diseases in all their changes and circumstances, is a work of time, accurateness, attention, and judgment, and wherein if men, through prepossession or oscitancy, mistake, they may be convinced of their errour by unerring nature and matter of fact, which leaves less room for the subtlety and dispute of words, which serves very much instead of knowledge, in the learned world, where, methinks, wit and invention has much the preference to truth. Upon such grounds as are the established history of diseases, hypotheses might with less danger be erected, which I think are so far useful, as they serve as an art of memory to direct the physician in particular cases, but not to be relied on as foundations of reasoning, or verities to be contended for; they being, I think I may say all of them, suppositions taken up gratis, and will so remain, till we can discover how the natural functions of the body are performed, and by what alteration of the humours, or defects in the parts, they are hindered or disordered. To which purpose, I fear the Galenists four humours, or the chemists sal, sulphur, and mercury, or the late prevailing invention of acid and alcali, or whatever hereafter shall be substituted to these with new applause, will, upon examination, be found to be but so many learned empty sounds, with no precise determinate signification. What we know of the works of nature, especially in the constitution of health, and the operations of our own bodies, is only by the sensible effects, but not by any certainty we can have of the tools she uses, or the ways she works by. So that there is nothing left for a physician to do, but to observe well, and so, by analogy, argue to like cases, and thence make to himself rules of practice: and he that is this way most sagacious, will, I imagine, make the best physician, though he should entertain distinct hypotheses concerning distinct species of diseases, subservient to this end, that were inconsistent one with another; they being made use of in those several sorts of diseases, but as distinct arts of memory, in those cases. And I the rather say this, that they might be relied on only as artificial helps to a physician, and not as philosophical truths to a naturalist. But, sir, I run too far, and must beg your pardon for talking so freely on a subject you understand so much better than I do. I hoped the way of treating of diseases, which, with so much approbation, Dr. Sydenham had introduced into the world, would have beaten the other out, and turned men from visions and wrangling to observation, and endeavouring after settled practices in more diseases; such as I think he has given us in some. If my zeal for the saving men’s lives, and preserving their health (which is infinitely to be preferred to any speculations ever so fine in physic) has carried me too far, you will excuse it in one who wishes well to the practice of physic, though he meddles not with it. I wish you and your brother, and all yours, a very happy new-year, and am,

Sir,

Your most humble and faithful servant,

John Locke.

Tho. Molyneux

Nov. 4, 1693

Dublin

Locke

DR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

Sir,

Dublin,

Nov. 4, 1693.

FOR a while I deferred making any return for the favour of your last letter, on the account I understood, by one of yours to my brother, that I was suddenly to expect another obligation from you by the receipt of your Treatise of Education, which yesterday first came to my hands; and now I return you my hearty thanks for both your kindnesses together, of which should I express the real thoughts I have, I should seem to run either into extravagant compliment, or gross flattery: but thus much I must needs say, that as your letter certainly contains, in short, the only true method for the prosecuting the curing part of the practice of physic, and the sure way of improving it; a matter of the chiefest good, in relation to men’s bodies; so your book of education lays down such rules for the breeding of youth as, if followed, must necessarily prove of the greatest advantage to the better part of man, the mind, by insensibly disposing it to an habitual exercise of what is virtuous and laudable, and the acquisition of all such knowledge as is necessary for one’s own good, or that of others whom we are to converse with. Whence I cannot but think, had those of our own countries but a thorough persuasion, and a right sense of the great benefit that redounds from a cheerful education, so as universally to put it in practice; without question, we should soon become a nation as remarkably different from the rest of the word, for the inward endowments of our minds, and the rectitude of our manners, as the negroes are from the rest of mankind, for their outward shape and colour of body. But this, I fear, is a happiness only to be wished for; however, he that makes it his endeavour to promote so great a good, by showing the certain way to it, if they will follow him, justly deserves the high esteem of all that know how to value a truly public spirit.

I hope, sir, you have your health better, and that we may suddenly have abroad your Essay of Human Understanding, with those farther additions and alterations you have some time since designed for the press: I am confident it is impatiently expected by all that are acquainted with your writings, and that peculiar clear manner of delivering truth you are so much master of, but by none more than,

Sir,

Your most faithful humble servant,

Tho. Molyneux.

Tho. Molyneux

Oct. 25, 1697

Dublin

Locke

DR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

Sir,

Dublin,

Oct. 25, 1697.

I SHOULD oftener make acknowledgments to you for your favours, and express the great esteem I bear you, but that this barren place affords little else to say: and this I cannot think reason enough to trouble one so busy and usefully engaged as you always are. Yet I would not omit thanking you, by this worthy gentleman, Mr. Berrisford, your acquaintance, for a present of a book, I understand by my brother, you designed for me, though I was so unlucky as to miss of it; and also communicate to you the enclosed letter, which the bishop of Clogher was pleased (perhaps out of his too partial friendship) to tell me deserved to be made public, and desired me accordingly to transmit it to Dr. Sloane: but this I would not do, unless it have your approbation also; so that it is wholly at your disposal to do with it as you please, as is likewise,

Sir,

Your very affectionate friend,

and humble servant,

Tho. Molyneux.

John Locke

Oct. 27, 1698

Oates

Molyneux

MR. LOCKE TO DR. MOLYNEUX.

Sir,

Oates,

Oct. 27, 1698.

DEATH has, with a violent hand, hastily snatched from you a dear brother. I doubt not but, on this occasion, you need all the consolation can be given to one unexpectedly bereft of so worthy and near a relation. Whatever inclination I may have to alleviate your sorrow, I bear too great a share in the loss, and am too sensibly touched with it myself, to be in a condition to discourse you on this subject, or do any thing but mingle my tears with yours. I have lost, in your brother, not only an ingenious and learned acquaintance, that all the world esteemed; but an intimate and sincere friend, whom I truly loved, and by whom I was truly loved: and what a loss that is, those only can be sensible who know how valuable, and how scarce, a true friend is, and how far to be preferred to all other sorts of treasure. He has left a son, who I know was dear to him, and deserved to be so as much as was possible, for one of his age. I cannot think myself wholly incapacitated from paying some of the affection and service that was due from me to my dear friend, as long as he has a child, or a brother, in the world. If, therefore, there be any thing, at this distance, wherein I, in my little sphere, may be able to serve your nephew or you, I beg you, by the memory of our deceased friend, to let me know it, that you may see that one who loved him so well, cannot but be tenderly concerned for his son, nor be otherwise than I am,

Sir,

Your most humble, and

most affectionate servant,

John Locke.

Tho. Molyneux

Nov. 26, 1698

Dublin

Locke

DR. MOLYNEUX TO MR. LOCKE.

Sir,

Dublin,

Nov. 26, 1698.

AS you have a true sense of every thing, so you were very much in the right, when you tell me, in the letter you favoured me with of the 27th of last month, that I needed all the consolation could be given one that had lost so unexpectedly a dear and only brother. His death indeed has been a severe affliction to me; and though I have you, and many more, that bear a great share with me in my sorrow, yet this does no way alleviate it, but makes it fall the heavier upon me; for it doubles my grief to think what an unspeakable loss he must be to so near a relation, that is so much lamented by those that were only acquainted with him. I could not believe that mortality could have made so deep an impression on me, whose profession leads into so thorough a familiarity with it; but I find a passionate affection surmounts all this, and the “tecum obeam lubens,” though it was the expression of a poet, yet I am sensible was a very natural one, where we love extremely, and the Indians prove it no less in fact. Could any outward circumstance of his life have increased that brotherly affection I had for him, it must have been that he had so great a part in your friendship, who must be allowed to have a nice judgment in discerning the true characters and worth of men. He frequently, in his life-time, has expressed to me with great complacency of mind, how happy he thought himself in your acquaintance; and he spoke of you several times, during his short sickness, with great respect. With his own hand he has writ this clause in his will: “I give and bequeath to my excellent friend John Locke, esq. author of the Essay concerning Human Understanding, the sum of five pounds, to buy him a ring, in memory of the value and esteem I had for him.” This I shall take care to send you in a bill by Mr. Churchill’s hands, when he states the account as it stands between him and my brother. The only child he has left behind him is under my care and management. I shall endeavour to discharge this trust, with all the regard to my brother’s memory, and the advantage of his child, I can: but it grieves me to think, that I must surely fall very much short of that extraordinary application and prudence his father would have shown in his education; for he made it the chiefest, and indeed the only business of his life. I have made his little son as sensible as his tender age would allow, how much he is obliged to you, his father’s friend, for your earnest desire to serve him: I wish you may both prolong your lives so, as he may one day be more thankful and capable of your kindness, by profiting much from your good instructions and advice. And since you so earnestly press me, by the memory of your deceased friend, to let you know wherein you might oblige me, I will venture to break the bounds of modesty so far, as to tell you I should be extremely pleased to receive from yourself the last edition of your incomparable Essay of Human Understanding, and such other pieces of your works as you shall think fit; for all which, as I have a great esteem, so I should have a more particular regard coming from yourself, as a private memorial of my dear brother’s friend, and of a person for whom I have such an extraordinary value, as I shall ever be proud of owning myself,

Sir,

Your truly affectionate humble servant,

Tho. Molyneux.

John Locke

Jan. 25, 1698-9

Oates

Molyneux

MR. LOCKE TO DR. MOLYNEUX.

Sir,

Oates,

Jan. 25, 1698-9.

I HAVE been slower in returning you my thanks for the favour of your letter of the 26th of November, and the civilities you express to me in it, than perhaps I should have been. But the truth is, my thoughts never look towards Dublin now, without casting such a cloud upon my mind, and laying such a load of fresh sorrow on me for the loss of my dear friend, your brother, that I cannot without displeasure turn them that way; and when I do it I find myself very unfit for conversation and the entertainment of a friend. It is therefore not without pain that I bring myself to write you a scurvy letter. What there wants in it of expression, you must make up out of the esteem I have for the memory of our common friend; and I desire you not to think my respects to you less, because the loss of your brother makes me not able to speak them as I would.

Since you are pleased to put such a value on my trifles, I have given order to Mr. Churchill to send you my last reply to the bishop of Worcester, and the last edition of my treatise of Education, which came forth since Mr. Molyneux’s death. I send this with the more confidence to you, because your brother told me more than once that he followed the method I therein offer to the world, in the breeding of his son. I wish you may find it fit to be continued to him, and useful to you in his education; for I cannot but be mightily concerned for the son of such a father, and wish that he may grow up into that esteem and character which his father left behind him amongst all good men who knew him. As for my Essay concerning Human Understanding, it is now out of print, and if it were not, I think I should make you but an ill compliment in sending it you less perfect than I design it should be in the next edition, in which I shall make many additions to it: and when it is as perfect as I can make it, I know not whether in sending it you, I shall not load you with a troublesome and useless present. But since by desiring it you seem to promise me your acceptance, I shall as soon as it is re-printed take the liberty to thrust it into your study. I am,

Sir,

Your most humble and faithful servant,

John Locke.

John Locke

28 Sept. 1685

Cleve

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

CUM ante dies decem, ad amicum nostrum dom. Guenellonem scripsi, facilè credès quod te. V. C. non insalutatum præteriverim: verum mei officii, tuorumque beneficiorum ratio postulat à me aliam & salutandi & gratias agendi methodum, ne aut obitèr, aut negligentèr, id quod mihi maximè incumbit, agere videar. Præsertim cum Guenellonis nostri silentium me incertum reddat, an meæ ad ipsum pervenerint literæ, quas sane minime vellem intercidisse; ne vobis omnibus, quibus tot nominibus obstrictus sum, aut parum memor, aut parum gratus appaream, credatisque paucarum horarum intervallum ex animo meo tot tantorumque beneficiorum delevisse memoriam, quam nulla temporis diuturnitas unquam delere valebit. In iis etiam significavi quam humaniter tuus Vander Key me excepit, quam officiosè adjuvit, quo nomine hic tibi gratias iterum agendas suadet viri istius summa humanitas, quanquam illud parum est, si cum maximo beneficiorum tuorum cumulo conferatur. Dom. Veenium & optimam illius fœminam, quibus salutem verbis non facile reperio, cum nulla sint, quæ aut illorum beneficia, aut eas quas habeo & semper habebo gratias, æquare possint; tuis tamen rogo quibus potes verbis maxime ornes. Ut me hic ulterius pergentem detinuit valetudinis ratio ad dom. Guenellonem scripsi. Amœnitas loci, & si non desidia, saltem quietis amor, & molestiæ, quam in itinere perpessus sum, aversatio adhuc detinet. Deambulationes hic, quibus quotidie prægressum ulciscor otium, valde jucundæ sunt; sed longe jucundiores forent, si aliquot vestrum expatiandi haberem socios, quod tam mei quam vestri causâ continuo opto, præsertim sic favente cœlo: nec enim credo sanitati incommodum esset, præsertim dominæ Guenelloni, cujus infirmis pulmonibus & valetudini parum robustæ prodesset maxime, credo, hic serenus & liber aër. Quid agatur apud vos, præsertim nostrorum respectu, ad me perscribas rogo; præsertim me de tuâ amicorumque nostrorum valetudine certiorem facias. Sum

Cleve, 28 Sept.

Tui observantissimus,

J. Locke.

John Locke

3 October, 1685

Cleve

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

DUAS à te, vir amplissime, officii & benevolentiæ plenas hic accepi literas: nec ingratus tibi videbor, spero, si ad singula, prout oportet, non fuse respondeam, temporis angustiâ impeditus. Hoc unum enixè rogo ut des operam, ut de adventu comitis Pembrokiæ per aliquem tuorum amicorum Hagæ degentium certior fiam, transmisso ea de re, vel ad me, vel ad te, nuntio. Dux copiarum Britannicarum futurus huc adventat, si jam non adest, quotidie expectatur. Meâ multum interest, ut quam fieri potest maturè illius accessum cognoscam. Hoc cum dixero, satis scio te omnem curam operamque in eo locaturum, ut quam celerrime id mihi innotescat. De aliis alias, nam tabellarius discedit. Amicos meos, meo nomine, quam officiosissimè quæso, salutes. Vale, & me, ut facis, ama,

Cleve, 3 October,

Tui observantissimum,

J. Locke.

John Locke

6 Oct. 1685

Cleve

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

Vir Clarissime,

SI duabus tuis amicissimis epistolis parum, vel nihil, à me responsum est, id instanti tabellarii discessui imputes, rogo, nec credas me tam rebus meis intentum tuæ vero consuetudinis & jucundissimi juxta ac doctissimi sermonis negligentem, ut omnia de meis negotiis, de tuis gratissimis literis nihil dicerem, nisi gravis aliqua subesset causa, cur de adventu comitis Pembrokiæ, quam fieri potuit citissimè, certior fierem. Sed jam quo maximè propendet animus, ad te, vir optime, & scripta tua redeo, in quibus primo accuso amicitiam tuam de me & meritis meis tam magnificè, de vestris erga me officiis & beneficiis tam exilitèr, loquentem. Hi sunt, fateor, magnæ & non fictæ amicitiæ aliquando errores, de quibus ideo queror, ut mihi aliter de iisdem rebus sentienti ignoscas, & me credas amicitiæ & gratitudinis dictata sequi, cum in eâ persistam sententiâ, aliqua me apud vos accepisse beneficia, quibus respondere verbis nec possim, nec debeam. Et nisi vos omnes in re, contra quam par est, voluntati meæ obstare viderem, tuam ego hic opem implorarem, ut hanc mihi velles eximere ægritudinem, & tuâ autoritate, quâ plurimum apud præstantissimum Veenium polles, huic querelæ tam justæ finem imponeres. Si quod videris promittere, sed heu! longum abest, his in collibus & sylvarum umbrâ, tuâ frui daretur & amicorum nostrorum consuetudine, crederem ego specimen aliquod aurei rediisse sæculi. Nam virtus, benignitas, pax & fides in sylvis solum degebant, quibus in urbanorum hominum frequentiâ vix datur locus. Sic cecinerunt poetæ: an aliquid aliud nos docent historici, hoc tempore non est mihi inquirendi animus. Gaudeo fratrem tuum convaluisse, & sine graviore aliquo symptomate. Locum illum epistolæ tuæ, ubi scriptorum tuorum memineris, non sine mœrore legi; sentio quantum ex discessu meo fecerim jacturam, & voluptatis & eruditionis, quod non legerem reliqua tua scripta, ex quibus non minorem mihi lucem promitterem, quam ex jam lectis, multo cum fructu, percepissem. Si vis ut sincerè & apertè dicam, nullibi reperi opiniones magis dilucide propositas, argumentorum rationibus melius subnixas, à partium studiis longius remotas, & veritati per omnia magis conformes. Hoc me ex animo proferre dubitare non potes, cum me tam importunè, tam deditâ operâ, criticum tam paucis potuisse dentem malignum imprimere patet. Sed me miserum! magnam partem fructûs, quem ex istâ meâ criticâ severitate mihi proposui, perdidi. Plurima enim, quæ inter legendum notaveram, non tam tui corrigendi, quam mei informandi, feci animo, de quibus tecum ulterius inquirendum statueram. Non est igitur, quod mihi tanto ardelioni gratias agas; satis est, si vehementi nimis inquisitori, & culpandi ansas studiosè quærenti ignoscas. Quanquam non malè pictæ tabulæ indicium est, si quis cogatur in eâ quærere nævos. Utinam quæ ego meditor, eo essent scripta idiomate, ut tu poteris vices rependere, reperires te ulciscendi copiosam materiam. Quod scribis de critici critico facile credo; quam primum enim attigi istum undecimæ epistolæ locum, videbar mihi audire obstrepentium exclamationes, quasi de religione omnino actum esset, nôsti hujusmodi hominum mores, quo minus heterodoxum aliquid possint refellere, ne nihil in causâ Dei agere videantur, tanto magis clamoribus, incusationibus, calumniis insurgunt. Fateor argumentum istud modestè proponendum fuisse, & cautè tractandum, sed tamen ejusmodi est, ut mereatur tandem summâ cum acribiâ discuti. Si omnia, quæ in sacris libris continentur, pro theopneustis paritèr habenda, sine omni discretione, magna sane præbetur philosophis de fide & sinceritate nostra dubitandi ansa. Si è contrario quædam pro scriptis pure humanis habenda; ubi constabit scripturarum divina autoritas, sine quâ corruet religio christiana? quodnam erit criterium? quis modus? adeo ut in hâc questione, si quâ aliâ, maxime fundamentali, summâ cum cautione, prudentiâ, modestiâ agendum, præsertim ab eo cui, uti credo, jam non nimium favent ecclesiasticæ potestates & theologorum classes. Sed signa cecinerunt, & expectandus est conflictus. Ego, qui ubique solam quæro veritatem, eamque, quantum capere possum, sive inter orthodoxos reperio, sive heterodoxos, pariter amplector. Fateor aliqua esse in eo scripto, quæ mihi plenè non satisfaciunt, alia quibus respondere non possum; de illis ab authore libenter responsum acciperem, si commodum existimas, de his tuum quære judicium.

Ni fallor, author sæpius utitur contra apostolorum continuam inspirationem hoc argumento, quod scil. multa ab illis dicta invenimus, quæ sine auxilio spiritus sancti dici poterant; quod tamen concessum, contra divinam sacræ scripturæ autoritatem & ϑεοπνευςίαν nihil concludit. Asseritur in s. scripturâ constans per omnia & infallibilis veritas. Si quid autem dicit sanctus Paulus Act. xxiii. (V. 241,) quod cœlitus ipsi revelatum non erat, id nihil detrahit certitudini scripturæ, quandoquidem ejusmodi res esset, quam certò & infallibilitèr cognoscere potuit, sine revelatione divinâ. Quæ sensibus & certâ cognitione apostolis constabant, non opus erat revelatione, ut earum historia, ab apostolis tradita, pro indubitatâ haberetur. Itaque metuo ne homines suspicentur hoc argumentum potius quæsitum, quam è re natum.

Explicatio illius promissi Joan. xvi. 13. quam fusè tradit . nequaquam mihi videtur posse accommodari apostolo Paulo, si quis attentè legat illius historiam Act. ix. & seq. Unde enim ille evangelii hostis, &, ut ipse alicubi fatetur, ignarus, poterat tam cito devenire mysteriorum evangelii interpres & præco, sine inspiratione supernaturali & divinâ? V. Act. ix. 19, 20.

Hæc aliqua eorum, quæ mihi inter legendum parum satisfecerunt, alia fuerunt, quorum oblitus sum: sed quid ad hæc dicat author libenter scirem. Verum cum plurima alia sunt quæ videntur omnimodam s. scripturæ infallibilitatem & inspirationem in dubium vocare, quibus fateor me non posse respondere, enixè rogo ut quid ea de re sentias, mihi explicare non graveris: multa enim, quæ in libris canonicis occurrebant, jamdiu ante tractatûs hujus lectionem, dubium me & anxium, tenuerunt, & gratissimum mihi facies, si hunc mihi adimas scrupulum. Cum summâ, quæso, amicitiæ, gratitudinis & existimationis significatione hanc inclusam hospiti meo optimo tradas. Illiusque & tuam & Guenellonis fœminam, meo nomine salutes, reliquosque nostros omnes. Vale, & longas epistolas scribenti ignoscas, nam tecum loqui haud facile desisto.

Cleve, 6 Oct.

Tibi devotissimus,

J. Locke.

John Locke

11 Oct. 1686

Utrecht

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

QUANQUAM longo usu ad alia hujus vitæ incommoda occaluit aliquatenus mens mea, à consuetudine tamen tuâ, vir doctissime & amicorum optime, me divelli, sine magnâ animi ægritudine, pati non possum. Tu enim me eruditione tuâ instruere, judicio confirmare, consilio dirigere, & amicitiâ & comitate solari solebas, quotidianum curarum mearum perfugium: sed ita plerumque mecum agi solet, ut ubi & quibuscum esse maxime cupio, refragante fortunâ, rarò permissum sit. Devorandum igitur, ut potero, hujus absentiæ tædium, quod frequentibus tuis literis levare debes, jam præsertim dum tempus & otium tibi permittunt adversarii illi, qui domi suæ prælia tibi meditantur. Hoc te in quo jam sumus sæculo expectâsse non dubito. Si candidè, & ut veritatis amici argumentorum pondere tecum agant, tibi scio non displicebunt, qui veritatem amplecteris, undecunque venientem. Sin iracundè, veteratoriè, malignè, paucis placebunt, nisi sui similibus; quicquid demum acciderit, hoc certum est, quod tu illæsus, victorque abibis, quia veritatem, quæris, non victoriam. Sed ut verum fatear, ego à rixosis hujusmodi disputatoribus non multum expecto, qui in alienis convellendis, non suis adstruendis, quærunt gloriam. Artificis & laudem merentis est ædificare. Sed pugnaces hosce sibi & curis suis relinquamus. Si quid in B — placidius & liberalius reperisti, gaudeo: pacificorum vellem quotidiè augeri numerum, præsertim inter reformatos, inter quos nimium quotidiè seruntur lites. Inimicus homo facit hoc. Alterius sunt indolis amici, quibus hic, te favente, familiaritèr utor. Uterque Grævius salutem plurimam tibi dicit. Verrynium sæpius quæsitum nondum domi reperi; hujus septimanæ dies aliquot extra urbem transegit; cum domum redierit, non diu insalutatum permittam. Vale cum tuâ tuisque, & me ama

Utrecht, 11 Oct.

Tui studiosissimum,

J. Locke.

John Locke

Mar. 8. 1687

Rotterodami

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

Vir reverendissime, amicissime, colendissime,

SINE fati & ineluctabili prædestinationis vi experior in me ipso, quomodo peccandi initia quandam sensim afferunt secum peccandi necessitatem. Literis tuis amicissimis 9, & 14. Febr. datis respondendi, quam primum eas acceperam, ansam mihi eripuit rei alicujus agendæ importuna tum festinatio. Sed cum, peracto cum eo quocum mihi res erat negotio, jam decessus illius in Angliam mihi fecerit otium, satis ad literas scribendas vacare mihi videor, nondum tamen nactus sum eam, quâ aliàs usus sum, scribendi libertatem. In hoc silentii crimen rebus aliis impeditus, quasi inscius incidi miser, quod jam tempore auctum penè confirmat pudor. Sic delicta delictis cumulamus semel irretiti, & modesti pariter & pervicaces in vitiis suis indurescunt. Vides quo in statu jam sum, & nisi credere me vis omnia certa & immutabili necessitate evenire, negligentiæ huic meæ ignoscere debes, ut redeat mihi antiqua mea apud te parrhesia. De Germanâ patrum theologiâ idem tecum planè sentio. Maxima semper fuit, semperque erit Germanorum natio, & pauci sunt in tantâ scriptorum multitudine, qui non videntur eo sub aëre nati. Sed me hâc de re à tuâ opinione non esse alienum, non multum miraberis. Aliquid amplius fateor est, quod ego numeros tuos secretos notaverim, & quod tu hoc observaveris. Cave tibi & ignosce quamprimum silentio meo, ne loquacitate tibi magis sim molestus, vides me in secretiora tua penetrare. ‘Scire volunt secreta domus’ — & nôsti quod sequitur,— ‘atque inde timeri.’ Magicæ hæ metuendæ sunt artes nimis perspicaces, quibus ego non parum mihi placeo, quandoquidem ex tam jucundo tam laudabili enascuntur fonte, & id mihi testatum faciunt, quod ante omnia cupio. Scio jam mentem meam à tuâ harmonicâ quadâm sympathiâ regi planè & gubernari. Sic me orthodoxum semper fore certum est. O! utinam eodem modo & sciens fieri possem. Ut enim verum fatear, inscius tuis numeris usus sum, sed gaudeo me prodiisse tenus: vellem & in aliis rebus hoc mihi acciderit. Agnosco genium tuum, cui me ducendum totum libentur traderem. Gratias ago quam maximas, pro omni tuâ curâ & operâ, in literis, in libris, & aliis meis rebus locatâ. Utinam daretur & vices rependere. Vale, & me ama

18 Tui amantissimum,

Rotterodami,

Mar. 8. 16,) (87

5 J. Locke.

John Locke

16 Maij, 1687

Rotterodami

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

QUID illo facies homine, qui nec cantare par est, nec respondere paratus? Quid juvat libertate à te ipso concessâ uti, sine viribus, ad ea quæ decent præstanda, necessariis? Jucundissima tua, & floribus undique referta, epistola ad ea, quæ scribis, iterum iterumque legenda maxime invitat; ut vero calamum sumam, & aliquid meo more rescribam valde dehortatur & deterret. Etsi enim grati sit animi, argutis & facetis amici sermonibus aliquid respondere, imprudentis tamen est & parum pudici, ornatis incondita, urbanis agrestia, pretiosis vilia, vel in ipso literarum commercio reponere. Frustra igitur à te libertate donatus sum, munus sane in specie magnificum, sed nisi aliquid de tuo etiam impertire possis ingenio, plane inutile; frustra enim accusabis me tanquam in libertate tardum, cui tam parata & justa sit defensio hebetem non debere esse loquacem, nec decere χάλϰέα χϱύσειων, ut ut enim eo modo liber sim, parum certe videbor liberalis. Novi animum tuum novi ingenium, & quam paratus sis omnia, ab amicâ voluntate profecta, in bonam partem interpretari; hoc boni omnia consulentis non parva laus est sed male interim scribentis pessima excusatio. Ea tamen fiducia fretus, en te iterum compellare ausim, melioribus studiis vacantem; si qui in eo pecco, nolo incusare vim à fatis illatam, causam sane, si qua sit, omnium maxime improbam, sed te ipsum, qui ab omni vi & coactione longissime abes, tua humanitas, tua benevolentia, tui lepores cogunt ut agnoscam, & ut fatear me tibi gratias habere, etiamsi referre non possim. Si his conditionibus mecum agere velis, en tibi ad legendas tuas epistolas paratissimum & cupidissimum: ad meas rescribendas, etiamsi cupiam, tardum, & sane tam necessitate quam officio tardum. Tu cum ista excusatione uti non potes, & maturè scribas rogo, & abundè. Id ni facias, audies me graviter querentem, te non præstare & amico & egenti id quod potes, & id quod debes, quia potes. Si jam inciperem iniquo jure communem inter nos colere amicitiam, hæc jam proponere vix animum inducerem; sed cum hac lege à primordiis amicitiæ semper viximus, ut tu properè & cumulatè omnia officia benevolentiæ præstares, ego vel in agnoscendo parcus & lentus essem, pati jam debes mores meos quantumvis malos, vetustate jam confirmatos, in quibus nihil novum, nihil insolens reperies. Vides quocum tibi res est; in hâc tamen culpâ non prorsus ingratus videri vellem, si id in se aliquid gratitudinis habet, ut qui eam, quâ se destitutum fatetur, in te miratur & amplectitur virtutem: in ea quæro mihi patrocinium, quod mihimet præstare non possum. Sed de me satis, ad majora nunc venio tua, scil. typographo haud parum irascor quod tuum, tam utile, tam doctum opus adeo procrastinet, spero jam accedente sole operarum diligentia incalescit. De Episcopii etiam tractatu gaudeo: de alio quod postulas tecum coram agam, ut enim quod res est fatear, scripseram prius ad te, nisi speraveram antehac me Amstelodamum accessurum, ut jucundissimâ illic amicorum consuetudine fruerer, imprimis tuâ, sine quâ hi ipsi veris non amœnè transeunt dies. Vale, vir præstantissime, &, ut facis, me ama,

Rotterodami, 16 Maij,

Tui studiosissimum,

J. Locke.

John Locke

11 Sept. 1687

Rotterod.

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

NONNE satis tibi est, vir clarissime, Judæum vicisse, nisi eodem opere inter Christianos, tui amantissimum tibi etiam prorsus subjuges? Diversis fateor armis nos aggrederis, illum argumentis, me beneficiis obstrictum tenes, è quibus ille se vix credo expediet; ego certo de me pronunciare possum, me tibi semper obnoxium futurum. Quid enim rependam viro, cui non sufficit me suis cumulare beneficiis, nisi insuper me dignum reddere conetur, dum suas sibi laudes ipse detrahit, quibus me ornatum velit; & in earum partem mihi non debitam venire? Tu fateor amicâ tuâ urbanitate facilius me, quocunque velis, circumducere possis, quam ille alter sua quemquam metaphysica. Sed ne expectes tamen, ut unquam eo usque me deducas, ut concedam istam festinationem, quâ exemplar ad me primum omnium misisti, mihi quovis jure deberi. Totum hoc beneficium & festinationis & muneris tuæ benevolentiæ & amicitiæ acceptum refero. Tu forsan, prout tua est humanitas, aliquo modo æquum putâsti ei primo omnium donere, quem noveras debere ex jam degustato opere vehementissimè omnium expetere hanc dissertationem, & desiderare redintegratam sibi denuò legendi voluptatem. Hujusmodi meritum facile agnosco, nec cuiquam donare poteras hoc volumen, cui aquæ exoptatum, æque acceptum esse potuit, ac mihi. Triduum illud & amplius, uti mones, nemo videbit. Laudo ego istam tuam erga Judæum comitatem; quanquam, ni fallor, quando perlegerit, vix credet ille, sibi hoc munere tantum factum esse beneficium, ut gaudeat tam maturè hunc librum in manus suas pervenisse. De eo, quod in calce epistolæ adjicis brevi plura. Dolui te per triduum mihi tam prope tam proculque fuisse. Sed patientius ferendum, quod amicum habeam, quem plures amant. Optimam tuam uxorem, collegas, reliquosque amicos nostros, officiosissimè quæso meo nomine salutes. Vale, & me ama

Rotterod.

11 Sept.

Tui amantissimum,

John Locke.

23 Sept. 1687

Rotterodami

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

NIMIS severus profectò es, vir clarissime, tuorum erga amicos officiorum exactor, alienæ vero negligentiæ valde immemor, dum te cunctationis insimulas, apud hominem uti nôsti omnium mortalium maxime cunctatorem. Nolo igitur apud te obtinere axioma illud, quo ultimas tuas male auspicatus es, “nihil deterius amico cunctatore,” sive de te ipso cogites, sive (uti aliquando meliore jure evenire possit) de me. Ego enim lentus admodum, & tamen inter eos, qui amicitiam cum fide colunt, non ultimum mihi locum vendico. Si hoc aliquanto arrogantius dictum sit, tu ipse videas. Tu alienas laudes mihi tribuis, & si illis semel mihimet placeo, ubi tandem me sistam? Istud synagogæ decretum satis, ut mihi videtur, à Judæis astutè promulgatum, ut eorum hic hyperaspites aliquid habeat, quod aliis dicat, etiamsi nihil habeat quod tibi respondeat: è consulto hoc factum credo, ut salvo honore & quantum fieri possit causa, possit ex arenâ decedere; tua enim argumentandi methodus, an nasutulis quibusdam Christianis, & nihil nisi sua probantibus, placebit, nescio; vix credo placebit Judæis, qui ea se magis implicatos sentient, quam fieri solent ab iis, qui Christianam religionem ad suum modulum exigentes, vix in ea reperirent, quod solidè Judæis opponere possent. Ego à quo librum tuum primum accepi (nam ita me cumulas, ut distinctione opus sit) tam incommodâ usus sum valetudine, ut illius lectioni vacare adhuc non potuerim. Sed jam indies convalescens, spero me non diu cariturum eâ voluptate. Interim gratias tibi ago quam maximas, & jam spero credes mihi satisfactum duplici hoc tributo, quod illud Judæi scriptum, sive characteres respicias, sive latinitatem, plane barbarum, olim perlegerim; nam de tuo si quid dicas, cogitare debes & profiteri, quantum ego per te profecerim. Ita enim, si verum dicere liceat, se res habet. Sed nolo ulterius ea de re tecum contendere, ne tertium mihi librum mittas. Literas D. Clerici, quas tuis inclusas memoras, nuspiam reperio; spero eas Amstelodami repertum iri & brevi me accepturum. Illum, tuam, tuos, nostros, quæso meo nomine salutes, & me ames, vir amplissime,

Rotterodami, 23 Sept.

Tui amantissimum,

J. Locke.

John Locke

20 Oct. 1687

Rotterod.

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

INTER cardiaca, & uti nostri vocant, restaurantia, nihil tam efficax reperio quam amicorum benevolentiam. Tuis ultimis literis me maximè recreatum sentio. Jam diu prioribus tuis humanitatis plenis respondissem, si quid certum de valetudine meâ pronunciare ausus fuissem; subinde enim, cum, me jam sanum salvumque credideram, recidivam passus, inter spem morbumque diu versatus, distuli ad te literas dare, donec certo aliquot dierum experimento me prorsus convaluisse confiderem. Hæc cunctatio ultimas tuas amicitiæ plenas tibi expressit literas, & mihi attulit remedium utilius eo & jucundius, quod mihi a Dno Veenio per Helmontium misisti, summa cum cura & festinatione: quanquam frustra, famula enim per negligentiam eversa phiola inclusum effudit liquorem. Sed jam spero non amplius opus erit remediis, quamvis subinde lævia quædam sentio symptomata, quæ spero non recrudescentis mali esse minas, sed abeuntis reliquias. Hæc ad te sigillatim scribere non vereor, quia de valetudine mea ita solicitus es, ut alio modo tuæ humanitati magis gratè respondere non possim. Gaudeo vehementer te pauco sanguine redemisse quod tibi impendebat malum. Spero te ea cautione & maturè semper usurum: quamprimum aliquam sentis gravitatem corporis, præsertim capitis vel ventriculi, ad venæsectionem tibi statim confugiendum. Hoc ni facias, de te sano magis metuendum erit, quam de me ægroto. Nos valetudinarii quoddam genus sumus hypocritarum, qui eo non proficiscimur, quo sæpius videmur tendere. Multum, tibi, collegis, cæterisque amicis Amstelodamensibus debeo, quibus mea sanitas ita cordi est; nec sperare possum vitam mihi satis diuturnam fore, ut tantam benevolentiam, tuam vero imprimis, prout res meretur, possim agnoscere; hoc velim tibi persuasum habeas me, quantulus quantulus sum, totum tuum esse. Salutes, quæso, quam humillimè, meo nomine, Veeniosque, Guenellosque, & collegas, omnes, illisque dicas mihi eos tam eximios esse medicos, ut magis mihi prosint illorum vota, quam aliorum remedia. Lectissimam tuam fœminam, quam officiosissime etiam salutes. Vale, & ego ut valeam, uti facis, me amando pergeface.

Rotterod.

20 Oct.

Tui, cum amore, observantissimus,

J. Locke.

John Locke

30 Nov. 1617

Rotterod.

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

CUM nihil adeo corporis sanitatem foveat & restauret, ac animi tranquillitas, non dubitare potes quin jucundissimæ tuæ literæ, amoris & benevolentiæ tuæ testes, in hac, in qua diu versatus sum, infirma mutabilique valetudine, mihi maximo fuerint solatio. Aliorum medicamentorum me sæpe pertæsum, reficiebant illa tua semper grata, semper suavissima, & cum alia nauseabundus respuerem, salutifera illa sale tuo Attico condita appetentius semper desideravi. Cave igitur ut credas te mihi epistolis tuis creâsse molestiam, nisi simul credere velis ingratam fore convalescentiam, cujus tu amore, cura, studio tuo maximus fuisti fautor, nec destiterunt tantæ amicitiæ indicia decumbentem me aliquando erigere. Si aliquanto tardius hæc cum gratiarum actione agnosco, nôsti hominem, nec expectare debes morbum me expeditiorem reddidisse. Quanquam, si hæc tibi justa satis videri possit causa, aliquantulum procrastinavi, ut confirmatæ sanitatis nuncium tibi possem mittere, & mihi tecum gratulari convalescentiam, quæ tibi adeo curæ & cordi fuit. Doleo Orobium nobis tam cito ereptum, non quod in eo amiseris triumphi ornamentum, scio enim te, modo veritas vincat, de vincendi gloria parum esse solicitum, quamvis in illo vivente aliqua veritatis confessio non displicuisset: sed destinaveram in proximis ad te literis petere exactum eorum quæ in inquisitione passus est historiam. Ad hoc me impulit narratio cujusdam Galli, quæ nuper prodiit de iis, quæ ipse, etsi Catholicus, passus est ab inquisitoribus Lusitanis, in Goâ Indiæ. Quæ à Judæo nostro confirmari omnia, vel superari posse, facile crediderim. Quandoquidem vero ille jam ad silentes migraverit, rogo ut tu quicquid istius rei tenes memoriâ, velis chartis consignare, ne intercidat quantum nobis restat methodi istius evangelicæ testimonium. Doleo me non interfuisse collegarum convivio, non quod ostreis caruerim, in hujusmodi enim conventibus nihil mihi minus placet quam pars taciturna, & ejusmodi convivarum sermo aliquid magis sapidum & jucundius salsum habet, quam ipsa ostrea Gaurana. Salutes eos, quæso, meo nomine, uti & optimam tuam fœminam, totamque Veenii & Guenellonis familiam. Ante duas vel tres septimanas ad Dm le Clerc scripsi, unaque chartas aliquas misi; an recte acceperit aveo scire, jam enim istis rebus vacare incipio: ipsum meo etiam nomine salutes.

Vale, & ut ipse valeam, amando & scribendo effice,

Rotterod.

30 Nov.

Tui studiosissimus,

J. Locke.

John Locke

22 Jun. 1688

Rotterod.

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

Vir spectatissime,

QUANTUMVIS obfirmato animo minas meas non expavescis, senties tamen aliquando, datâ occasione, quid sit irritâsse crabronem, in eo enim genere, merito numerari possit provocatusque iratusque amicus. Nondum vidi acta illa Lipsiensia, ubi tu coram sisteris, sed euge; jam salva res est, incepi, de istius operis merito pretioque aliquomodo dubitare, quod nemo ex systematicis illis reperiret in eo tractatu quod displiceret, nihil enim argumenti aut boni aut novi deberet continere, nec quod supra vulgus saperet, si vulgo placeret. Sed jam vapulans laudo, nec vibices metuo. Benignior his pædagogis si non voluntas, saltem vis est, quam ut eorum virgæ vulnera vel cicatrices relinquant. Conditiones subscriptionum plus semel in Angliam misi, sed hactenus responsi nihil accepi: ego data occasione iterum & ad alios mittam, quo successu nescio: hæc enim & hujusmodi, nisi præsto adsis & hæsitantes impellas, immemores moneas, plerumque negliguntur. Quod de Judæo narras, valde placet: brevi habebitis, spero, quæ sufficient ad justum volumen, in quo sanctitas officii ad plenum depicta, omnium oculos animosque in sui admirationem arripiat Dolendum plane esset tot et tanta sanctitatis exempla in tenebris latere; prodeant tandem in lucem, ut quibus fundamentis stabilitur & propagatur fides, tandem innotescat. De MS. codice ego nihil dico, ante biduum ea de re scripsit ad te Furleius noster. Inde conjicio te aliquando Wetstenium convenire, eaque occasione has inclusas illi tradendas ad te mittere ausim. Scripsi ad illum ante quindecim dies, aliquosque misi ad illum libros, aliosque postulavi, & festinatò ad me mittendos, sed nihil audio, nihil respondet. Eoque magis silentium ejus me solicitum habet, quod simul miseram duo volumina Garcilassi de la Vega Do Veenio (cum epistola, quam ad eum scripsi) reddenda, quæ olim ab eo mutuo acceperam. Salutes illum, rogo, meo nomine reliquosque collegas. Vale, vir amicissime, & me ama, ut facis,

Rotterod.

22 Jun.

Tui studiosissimum,

J. Locke.

John Locke

30 Julii. 1688

Rotterod.

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

Vir spectatissime,

SIVE iratum me sive gratum existimari vellem, sentio me jam nimis diu tacuisse. Amicum amico respondisse, crabronem irritanti vindictam retulisse citius opportuit. Sed ego nescio qua ingenii tarditate nec amici nec inimici partes recte ago. An tibi hoc modo placere possim nescio, me Slado nostro (si cum eo ita agerem) valde displiciturum sat scio, qui hujusmodi lentulos æquo animo ferre non potest. Editionem MS. de quo cum Wetstenio transigebas, dolendum plane est non procedere, & metuo, si jam non procedat illius impressio, ne intereat tam luculentum historiæ monumentum; quod sane multis, quæ jam omnium manibus versantur, libris longe anteferendum existimo. Multa cum voluptate legi Clerici nostri Tentamen, ut ipse vocat, de antiqua Hebræorum poesi: non parum lucis inde affulsurum psalmis, reliquisque quæ in S. S. extant scriptis metricis, minime dubito. Totum psalmorum librum, sibi ita restitutum, edi optarem: incites illum rogo, ut quantum, per alia negotia liceat, hoc opus festinet. Cuidam meo amico in literis. Hebræis versatissimo cum hox dixissem, credere non potuit; exemplo persuasus jam credet. Plura habui dicenda, sed adventus amici ex Anglia hic me interpellat, adeo ut in aliud tempus sint rejicienda. Vale & me ama

Rotterod.

30 Julii.

Tui studiosissimum,

J. Locke.

John Locke

24 Nov. 1688

Rotterod.

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

FAMULUS meus, Amstelodamum res suas agens profecturus, meam non prius rogavit veniam quam instaret decessus, adeo ut ad te scribendi tempus non dabatur. Doleo profecto adeo labefactatam in familia tua valetudinem. De morbo & curatione illius absens nihil audeo pronunciare, nec quidem opus est; cum tamen amicos doctosque paratos tibi habeas medicos. Unum tamen permitte ut moneam, si, uti sperare videris, erumpant tandem variolæ, velim ut in medicamentis assumendis & stragulorum operimentis caveatur regimen calidius, unde in sanguine excitatur fervor, non sine magno ægroti malo & discrimine. Hoc vel invito extorsit mihi meus in te tuosque amor, & expertus loquor. Tuorum valetudo eo spero in statu est, ut de aliis loqui liceat, præsertim tibi haud ingratis. Furleius noster principi ante decessum adfuit, & coram allocutus est, ut illius opem contra persecutionem hac in provincia, si unquam alias, certe jam intempestive cœptam, efflagitaret. Rem ita ursit, ut placuerit principi epistolam scribere Bailivio de Kenmerland, qui Foecke Floris ministrum ecclesiæ Mennonitarum jusserat ex autoritate synodi, intra octiduum solum vertere, & ea ex ditione exire, ni mallet carcere includi. Historiam istius Foecke Floris ex aliis, quam ex me, melius cognosces. Furleio enim nostro ante hanc causam ne de facie quidem notus. Sed communem christianorum rem in ejus libertate agi ratus, causam illius prono animo suscepit, & strenue egit; si enim abfuisset παῤῥησία, nihil promovisset. Hujus epistolæ sufflamine repressum audio in præsens persecutorum fervorem. Si quid de hac re amplius inter Mennonitas vestros tibi innotuerit, fac nos certiores. Vale, vir optime, cum integra tua familia: sic animitus opto,

Rotterod.

24 Nov.

Tui studiosissimus,

J. Locke.

John Locke

16 Feb. 1689

Rotterod.

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

QUOD imprimis hinc decedens desideravi, ut scil. te, vir amplissime, reliquosque amicos Amstelodamenses amplecti daretur, in eo omnia quasi deditâ operâ mihi maxime adversari videntur. Primo glacies & festinatio, deinde in ipso, itinere pluvia intercepit. Die enim sabbati ultimo hinc Hagam profecturum, ut tibi nobilem fœminam ad Amstelodamum etiam cogitantem compellarem, imber satis violentus me Delphos transeuntem perfuit quod incommodum Hagæ etiam passus sum. Ita totus madidus accessi ad illam, quæ nocturnum illud iter, quo ad vos ea nocte perrecturus eram, tanquam sanitati meæ nimis periculosum non dissuasit solum sed & prohibuit. Sic pluvia illa quæ jam à duobus mensibus pene unica, quasi designato, unius dieculæ vobiscum spem, qua hinc gestiens decessi, prorsus abstulit. In aula omnia tam parata ad abitum, tam moræ impatientia inveni, ut primo favente vento principem classem conscensurum nemo dubitet. Istud destinatum iter ad vos incepi, non tam vento, quam principis religioni confisus, quam vix credidi die dominica velle iter ingredi, etiamsi ventus orientalis invitaret; sed jam nihil aliud expectatur, quam ventus navigationi idoneus, quo simul ad naves convolandum erit. Heri vesperi huc redii, & quamdiu hic languescendum set nescio; hoc certo scio, nihil molestius esse quam ad fastidium usque laborare otio, & tamen ad id, quod maxime velles, tempus non suppetere. Quam vellem mihi dare apud vos horam unam, vel alteram! Vultus, sermo, amplexus amicorum nescio quid habent, quo se explere anima mea anxie desiderat. Quo vos in me sitis animo, quo ego in vos nullum credo est dubium, nec augeri posset mutua nostrûm amicitia valedicentium alloquio; opto tamen videre, dextras jungere, ac me iterum vobis totum tradere, cujus totus sum. Hoc si mihi jam non concessum fuerit, alias spero futurum: non enim de me tam male ominor, ut nullam credam fore diem, quæ nos iterum conjungat. Multa sunt, quæ hanc navigandi occasionem non mihi omittendam suadent: amicorum expectatio, res meæ privatæ jam per aliquot annos neglectæ, piratarum frequentia, & parum tutus alias transitus, & nobilissimæ fœminæ, sive cura, sive amicitia, qua cum iturus sum. Velim hoc tibi persuadeas, me hic aliam patriam reperisse & pene dixeram parentes. Quod enim in illo nomine carissimum est, benevolentiam, amorem, charitatem, quæ ad conciliandos homines conjungendosque fortiora sanguine habent vincula, apud vos abunde expertus sum. Habeo hic amicos semper mihi colendos, imo & invisendos, si res & dies patiatur. Hoc certò scio, quod decedo cum animo revertendi, ut cum illis solidum aliquando et illibatum capiam gaudium, quorum humanitate effectum est, ut à meis absens, & in communi omnium mœrore nullam sentirem animi ægritudinem. Te quod attinet (vir omnium optime, amicissime, dilectissime) cum tuam cogito doctrinam, animum, mores, candorem, suavitatem, amicitiam, satis in te uno reperi (ut cæteros taceam) quo mihi semper gratulari potero optime locatam & fructuosissimam aliquot annorum apud vos moram: nec scio an aliquod mea vita tempus æque jucundum habitura sit, certe magis proficuum nondum habuit. Deus O. M. te omni felicitatum genere cumulatum, familiam, patriam incolumes conservet & custodiat, ut diu sis ecclesiæ omnibus bonis utilis. De meo erga te animo qualis jam sit, qualis futurus sit, nihil addam, cum meum spero amorem non magis mihi notum & certum esse quam tibi, cujus in me amicitiam tot beneficiis testatam habeo, ut quicquid de ea literis tuis jucundissimis dicas, jam jam penitus persuaso facile persuadebis. Optimæ tuæ uxori liberisque, Veeniis, Guenellonisque omnibus plurimam salutem dicas; te mihi apud illos advocatum & patronum relinquo, ne quid gravius statuant in hominem tot beneficiis, devinctum, si non fugientem, minus urbane certe, quam oportuit, valedicentem. Sed ita sunt fere res humanæ, ut nihil præter voluntatem in nostra sit potestate, ea totus ad eos feror, ea singulos amplector, quæ mihi nunquam ad beneficiorum memoriam, ad grati animi confessionem defutura est. Vale, vir colendissime, & me, ut facis, ama

Rotterod.

16 Feb.

Tui in perpetuum amantissimum,

J. Locke.

John Locke

12 March, 1689

London

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

VEREOR ne nomine negligentiæ tibi suspectus sim, quod tam diuturno utor silentio, quod nec tuis meritis, nec meæ voluntati nec nostræ denique amicitiæ omnino convenit. Scias velim me cum solo non animum mutâsse qui tibi idem qui olim est, & ubicunque terrarum fuero, idem futurus est amoris & reverentiæ plenus. Sed à meo in patriam reditu, amicorum vel invisentium, vel visendorum consuetudo, vel rerum mearum hinc inde dispersarum ad præsentem usum quærendi, & colligendi labor, vel aliqualis ad remp. (absit verbo invidia) si non accessio, saltem ne privatum otium publicis negotiis commutarem, cura & excusatio, & quod gravissimum omnium est, maligno hujus urbis fumo labefactata valetudo ita me occupatum tenuit, ut vix momentum mihi vacui temporis relictum fuerit, ex quo primum huc appulerim. Prima, qua in terram descendi, hora, ad Dm Guenellonem, festidante calamo & vernacula lingua, inter salutantium turbam scripsi, ut per eum te, cæterosque amicos meos Amstelodamenses, salutarem. Quicquid enim lætum jucundumque hic reperi me monuit aliquid illic relictum esse, quod non cum minore voluptate recordarer, quam quo hic oculis usurparem. Burnetus episcopus Salisburiensis designatur. In parliamento de tolerantia jam agi cœptum est sub duplice titulo, Comprehensio scil. & Indulgentia. Prima ecclesiæ promœria extendenda significat, ut ablata cæremoniarum parte plures comprehendat. Altera tolerantiam significat eorum qui, oblatis conditionibus ecclesiæ Anglicanæ, se unire vel nolunt vel non possunt. Quam laxa vel stricta hæc futura sint, vix dum scio, hoc saltem sentio, clerum episcopalem his aliisque rebus, quæ hic aguntur, non multum favere, an cum suo vel reip. commodo, ipsi videant. De solutione, de qua ad te ante discessum scripsi, expecto à te aliquid quotidie. Vale, & me, ut facis, ama

London

12 March,

Tui amantissimum,

J. Locke.

John Locke

6 Jun. 1689

London

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

Vir doctissime,

TOLERANTIAM apud nos jam tandem lege stabilitam te ante hæc audiisse, nullus dubito. Non ea forsan latitudine, qua tu et tui similes, veri et sine ambitione vel invidia christiani, optarent. Sed aliquid est prodire tenus. His initiis jacta spero sunt libertatis & pacis fundamenta quibus stabilienda olim erit Christi ecclesia. Nulli à cultu suo penitus excluduntur, nec pœnis objiciuntur, nisi Romani, si modo juramentum fidelitatis præstare velint, & renunciare transubstantiationi & quibusdam dogmatibus ecclesiæ Romanæ. De juramento autem quakeris dispensatum est; nec illis obtrusa fuisset malo exemplo, illa quam in lege videbis confessio fidei, si aliqui eorum istam fidei confessionem non obtulissent, quod imprudens factum multi inter illos & cordatiores valde dolent. Gratias tibi ago pro exemplaribus tractatus de tolerantio, & pace ecclesiastica, quæ mihi misisti, compacta recte accepi, incompacta nondum ad manus meas pervenerunt. In vertendo de tolerantia libello aliquem Anglum jam jam occupatum intelligo. Opinionem illam pacis & probitatis fotricem ubique obtinere optarem. Acta inquisitionis jam pene descripta gaudeo, uti spero brevi proditura, opus utile & expectatum. Legem de tolerantia sancitam ad Dm le Clerc misi, quo interprete intelliges quousque extenditur hæc libertas. Vale & me ama

London

6 Jun.

Tui amantissimum,

J. Locke.

John Locke

18 Jun. 1691

Oates

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

PRIORES tuas intercidisse valde doleo, nihil enim à te proficisci potest quod mihi, uti convenit, non sit valde carum. Novissimas tuas 29 Maii datas, amore & benevolentia usitata plenas, accepisse lætor, quod tuæ tuorumque valetudinis me certiorem faciunt. Scti Officii historiam oscitantia bibliopolæ in ipso partu ita hærere doleo. Prolegomena tua Da Cudwortha & ego valde probamus, & capitum indicem, quem tam amice promittis, avide expectamus, ut ista sciagraphia operis tui structuram prælibemus, interim optantes, ut quam citissime integrum volumen Christiano orbi maxime proficuum, & pene dixeram hoc tempore necessarium, prodeat. Illic enim fons omnis persecutionis, sub prætextu religionis, illic fundamentum tyrannidis ecclesiasticæ, quam minores sectæ eo exemplo animatæ prædicant, affectantque. Sed quo tendat, quas tragœdias ubique quando parum adoleverit, editura sit, eo in speculo, qui sibi oculos non eruunt, facile videbunt. Eus lectionem sibi & utilissimam & jucundissimam fore spondet Da Cudwortha, quæ paternæ benignitatis hæres omnem de rebus religionis persecutionem maximè aversatur. Gratulatur sibi se in partem amicitiæ, qua patrem amplexus es, successisse; te officiosissime salutat, plurimum æstimat & veneratur, unumque hoc dolet, quod non utatur lingua utrique communi, ut ex commercio literarum amicitiæ & eruditionis tuæ, quem optaret, fructum perciperet.

Historiam tuam de surda loquente duplici exemplo hic apud nos confirmare possum. Duo juvenes, utrique surdi, quorum alter à doctore Wallis, celebri illo Oxonii matheseos professore, alter à doctore Holder theologo edoctus, loquelæ usum didicit. Utrumque juvenem novi, & verba proferentem audivi, distincte satis & articulate, tonus solum vocis parum erat ingratus, & inharmonicus. De altero quid factum sit nescio, alter adhuc vivit, legendi scribendique peritus, & à quo illum primo loquentem audivi (viginti enim & plures sunt anni) uxorem duxit pater-familias. Vir est ex generosa prosapia nec diu est à quo illum viderim. Uxori liberisque tuis, Veeniis Guenellonisque & collegis nostris plurimam salutem meo nomine dicas. Vale, vir amplissime, & me, ut facis, ama

Oates,

18 Jun. 1691.

Tui amantissimum,

J. Locke.

John Locke

14 Nov. 1691

London

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

QUOD grandem tibi jamdiu destinaveram epistolam ideo accepisti nullam. Quæsivi vacuum aliquod mihi tempus dari, ut tecum liberius & fusius colloqui possem, & gratias agere pro ultima tua & amicissima epistola, cui jamdudum responsum oportuit. Sed nescio quam rerum etiam non mearum importunitate ita mihi omne otium sublatum est, ut ne propriis quidem & domesticis negotiis vacare licuerit. Cave autem credas me publicis negotiis implicitum; nec valetudo, nec vires, nec rerum agendarum imperitia id patiuntur. Et cum mecum repetam, quid à tribus jam mensibus adeo impeditus egerim, incantamenti instar videtur, ut quisque dies afferret negotiorum onus aliorum ex aliis nascentium, quæ nec sciens prævideram, nec cupiens evitare poteram.

Indicem librorum & capitum historiæ Scti Officii, Domina Cudwortha & ego, legimus simul, magna cum voluptate. Hæc prælibatio magnum excitavit in utroque integri operis desiderium, quod jam sub prælo esse cum gaudio, à quodam Scoto, non ita pridem ex vestra Batavia redeunte, accepi. Bonis cum avibus procedat opus christiano orbi imprimis utile. Hospes mea, tyrannidi ecclesiasticæ inimicissima, sæpe mihi laudat ingenium & consilium tuum, laboremque huic operi tam opportune impensum; creditque frustra de religionis reformatione & evangelii propagatione tantum undique strepitum moveri, dum tyrannis in ecclesia, vis in rebus religionis (uti passim mos est) aliis sub nominibus, utcunque speciosis, obtinet & laudatur. Quid tandem factum est cum Dre isto theologo, qui tam mira docuit de angelis, in libro suo, de spirituum existentia? an non expertus est fratrum suorum, pro religione, pro veritate, pro orthodoxia, zelum? mirum, si impune evadat. Apud nos prælum, quod video, nihil pene parturit, quod alieni cives scire, aut legere multum desiderabunt. Ita obstrepunt undique arma, ut musarum voces vix audiantur. Imo lis ipsa theologica jam consopita magnam in partem conquiescit, utinam cum animarum & partium concordia. Sed ea spes vana est, nec tam facile componuntur theologorum controversiæ. Bene est, si incertas aliquando ferant inducias: ut mutua charitate sanentur penitus quis expectabit? Magna mihi apud te excusatione opus est, ut tam diuturno silentio ignoscas. Id tibi persuadeas velim, hoc non alicui voluntatis alienationi, non decrescenti & minus fervidæ amicitiæ tribuendum: te ut semper maxime æstimo, amo, amplector, semperque amabo. Fac itidem ut facis, & me ama.

London

14 Nov.

Tui studiosissimum,

J. Locke.

John Locke

29 Feb. 1692

Oates

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

SI ex literarum tarditate de amicitia mea judicaveris, metuo ne me suspiceris ad officia nimis ignavum, à quo me profiteor, cum res postulat, longè alienum. In hoc literarum commercio, si qua utor libertate, id plerumque evenit, cum ad eos scribendum sit, quibus benevolentiam amicitiamque meam, re potius quam verbis, testatam fore mihi in animo est. Hoc an tu probaveris nescio; ita ego tibi persuasum velim. Nemo enim omnium, qui te magis suspicit, æstimat, diligit, quam ego: id nunc facio & semper faciam.

Non placet Wetstenii in edenda Sancti Officii historia cunctatio; hoc unicum in ea mora placet, quod te identidem relegente & sub incudem sæpius revocante, limatiorem perfectioremque habebimus. Hoc unum ut te moneam, jam occurrit, scil. alterum hujusmodi volumen, duodecim circiter ab hinc annis, Monspessulis extitisse, ab hoc distinctum; duo enim illic tunc erant hujusmodi volumina.

Zelus theologicus, uti video, semper & ubique idem est, eodemque modo procedit: quid tandem devenit paradoxorum ille de angelis auctor, scire cupio; si evasit, mirum est, quanquam eò res inclinare videbatur, quo tempore scripsisti, favente etiam Amstelodamensium prædicatorum desidia, vix tamen veniam ei datam credo. Hujusmodi orthodoxiæ propugnatores non solent errantibus ignoscere. Presbyteriani in Scotia quid agant, mallem ex aliis quam ex me scires. Zelus illic in frigido isto aere per antiperistasin incalescere videtur. Satis fervide disciplinæ suæ operam dant, an satis prudenter, an satis modeste, ipsi videant. Sed ubi causa Dei agitur, ut nôsti, & ejus ecclesiæ, quid sibi theologi non putant licere, autoritatem suam soli Deo acceptam referentes. Dm le Cene semel vidi Londini, sed semel tantum, idque obiter, apud nobilissimum Boyleum, adeo ut sermocinandi locus non esset, de rebus illius, vel amicis Amstelodamensibus; ab eo tempore parum Londini commoratus sum, valetudini rure vacans, pulmones enim non ferunt fumum urbis. Episcopum illum, cui Dm le Cene commendasti, credo pacis ecclesiasticæ sincere studiosum. Solicitus sum de valetudine Veenii nostri, angusto est pectore, et metuo pulmonibus ejus, metuo etiam ne praxi continuæ jam à multis annis assuetus, rure otio intabescat. Opto illi diuturnam & validam, jucundamque senectam, multum illi debeo, quod semper gratus agnoscam. Recte facis quod persecutionem religionis ergo in pontificiis solum damnas. Si quam inter christianos sectam seligas, cujus crudelitatem insecteris, à reliquis laudaberis, quanquam persecutio ubique eadem est & plane pontificia. Quælibet enim ecclesia sibi verbis arrogat Orthodoxiam, re infallibilitatem. Da Cudwortha te omni humanitate & æstimatione resalutat. Saluta quæso uxorem, familiamque tuam, Veenium, Guenellonem, omnemque istam stirpem officiosissime, meo nomine. Vale, Vir colendissime, & me, ut facis, ama,

Oates, 29 Feb.

Tui amantissimum,

J. Locke.

De miraculis post Apostolorum tempora certiorem fieri cupio. Non ego satis versatis in historia ecclesiastica, ut quid de iis statuam, nôrim. Rogo igitur obnixè, nam mea interest scire, an post apostolorum tempora edita fuerint, in ecclesia christiana, miracula, quibus auctoribus & qua fide memoriæ tradita, quam frequentia, & an ad Constantini imperium, vel diutius, duraverint, & quis fuit ille Thaumaturgus, et quid ab eo actum est, cujus tam speciosa appellatio ad nos pervenit. Non quæro miraculorum, quæ in scriptoribus ecclesiasticis memorantur, catalogum: sed an constat, ex fide dignis historicis, fuisse vera miracula, an raro vel sæpius edita, & quamdiu donum illud ecclesiæ concessum.

John Locke

30 Jun. 1692

London

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

AB acceptis tuis 27 Junii datis, ad urbem accedens hodie primum archiepiscopum conveni. Quamprimum tuum audivit nomen, agnovit acceptam à te contra Judæum disputationem, excusavit silentium, quod ob valetudinem, oculorum debilitatem, & alia quæ intervenerunt impedimenta, integram nondum perlegerat. Laudavit maxime illud opus, unà cum authore, & gratias, quas nondum egit, se habere agnovit. Historiam Sancti Officii jam valde opportunam judicavit. Capitum indicem summa cum voluptate & approbatione perlegit, & cum tuum de dedicatione consilium aperuissem, ea verborum urbanitate & honore, eo vultu accepit; ut, si adfuisses, hoc sibi non ingratum fore certus esses. Mitte igitur quamprimum dedicationem, novi viri modestiam, & laudo consilium tuum, quod prælectam ab eo prius velis quam editam. Illi monstrabo, quod scio honori ducet, & si quid mutandum videtur, indicabo. Interim dixit se habere librum, Lusitaniæ editum, de quodam actu Inquisitionis in Lusitania, in cujus exordio occurrunt paparum bullæ, aliaque diplomata, quibus potestas Sancti Officii concessa & stabilita est, accuratius collecta. Nomen authoris non retinebat memoria, & liber ipse, illius bibliotheca nondum in ordinem redacta, ab ipso quæsitus, non repertus est. Volumen est, ut aiunt, in 8vo. Brevi ipsum iterum revisam, eam curam cuidam domesticorum mandabit, ut ante reditum meum præsto sit liber. Tunc tibi nomen authoris præscribam, & si nondum videris ipsum librum, tibi mutuo commodabit reverendissimus archiepiscopus. Grævium, Guenellonem, Veeniosque omnes meo nomine saluta Clerico nostro, quem officiossime saluto, ante aliquot septimanas, an menses dicam, scripsi; an pervenerint ad illum literæ meæ, ignoro; nam ab isto tempore nihil ab eo accepi. Hoc quæso illi indices, ne me tarditatis, si mea interciderit epistola, suspicetur. Fœminam tuam dilectissimam liberosque summo cum affectu saluto. Vale, vir dignissime, &, ut facis, me ama,

London

30 Jun.

Tui studiosissimum,

J. Locke.

John Locke

28 Nov. 1692

Oates

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

DE adventu librorum tuorum certior factus, qua potui festinatione Londinum me contuli, ut quæ tu de iis jusseras præsens curarem. Archiepiscopus quamprimum accesseram, maximas se tibi gratias habere professus est, opus sibi perplacere, seque à libri tui lectione, hoc etiam tempore negotiis maximis occupatissimo, abstinere non posse: sed magnam ejus partem summa cum voluptate ex quo accepit, percurrisse. Verum quo animo accepit, legit, laudavit, tunc demum rectius intelliges ex ipsius verbis, cum ad te destinatas literas scribere vacaverit. Episcopus Salisburiensis multa & his similia mihi dixit, & se adeo detentum immersumque esse argumento libri tui (quo historiam inquisitionis, ultra quam expectari poterat, dilucidam accuratamque tradidisti) ut ad te scribere, donec totum pervolverit, non potuerit; se interim gratias tibi amplissimas reddere. Comes Pembrokiensis multa de te cum laude, & pro munere tuo per me gratias agi jussit, donec ipse sua manu agnoscet acceptissimum à te beneficium. Bathoniensem & Wellensem episcopum in domo procerum quæsivi, sed non aderat: cumque extra urbem habitet, hora una vel altera à meo hospitio, eum in tam brevi mora convenire non poteram. Tuum autem librum illi traditum, uti reliquis omnibus, certo scio. Cæterum curavi ut Dus Clarke communis noster amicus eum adeat, ut excuset librum incompactum à te missum, quod ego reliquis quibus opus fuit feci, quanquam non omnino opus fuit. Mireris jam merito cur ego, qui non minus meo, quam horum virorum, nomine, gratias agere deberem, tantus cessator essem, ubi festinandum potius esset, ut neglecta proprioris loci commoditate, rus huc commigrarem, antequam ad te darem literas. Dicam quod res est; sanus urbem adii, sed unius dieculæ mora adeo mihi mutata est valetudo, ut respirare vix potuerim. Ingravescebat quotidie malum, & tam cito me urbe expulit, ut neglecta maxima rerum illic agendarum parte aufugere necesse esset.

Librum tuum huc mecum attuli, ut tuo beneficio Dna. Cudwortha & ego habeamus hac hyeme noctes Atticas, quas nihil tam augere poterat, quam authoris præsentia, & quos secum semper adfert, sales Attici. Ego huc die Saturni reversus sum; hodie libri tui lectionem inchoandam, qua spe, qua voluptate, facile dijudicare potes, sed credas velim quas tibi habeo gratias non esse minores. Ex tuis 10 Octob. datis, quamprimum mihi innotuit quot & quibus huc destinaveras exemplaria, egi cum hospite meo & bibliopola Smith ut singula singulis quam ocissime traderentur, antequam liber uspiam apud nos prostaret venalis, quod diligentissime factum est; nec ea in parte interiit aliqua tam eximii & tam opportuni operas gratia. Sed quid tandem statuendum est de MS. codice autographo, quod ego in tutissimo aliquo loco inter archiva reponendum suaderem, ut in perpetuum … . effrontes adversarios faciat fidem. Quinam vero is sit locus tutissimus libentur tecum inquirerem.

Episcopii vitam tua manu æternitati consecrandam gaudeo: sed qua lingua? cum enim præfigendam eam concionibus illius Belgicis (ut reor) jam prodituris, metuo ne illius quoque historia prodeat, etiam in lingua mihi minus familiari. Gratulor tamen erudito orbi hæc tam docti tam eximii viri monumenta, cujus omnes lucubrationes ab interitu conservandæ.

Jam apud nos prodiit Joannes Malela Antiochenus, quem diu & anxie petivit amicus meus Toinardus. Rogo igitur ut cum Wetstenio agas, ut quamprimum aliqua illius libri exemplaria ad illius manus pervenerint (quod scio maturius futurum, quam si ego unum hinc ad eum Amstelodamum mittere vellem) unum ad Toinardum quam citissime transmittendum curabit, pretiumque meis rationibus adscribat, quod ego solvam. Malela author est nec magni nominis nec fidei. Sed in dubio aliquo chronologico se lucem inde mutuaturum speravit Toinardus, & cupio ego maxime illius inservire desiderio; igitur rogo ut hanc rem cures ut mihi gratissimam.

De Palinodia, quam scripsisti, in novissimis tuis 7 Nov. gratias ago maximas. Eodem tenore & ubique proceditur. Habeo enim de Gallis apud nos, quod possit ferre secundas, imo quod superat omnibus bene trutinatis. Sed de his alias si cupias, jam enim nimis turgescit pagina.

Clerico nostro ante 15, Guenelloni ante 10 dies scripsi. Spero jam omnia pacata & amice composita in ista familia, cui omnino omnia bona opto. Hos cæterosque meos omnes, imprimis optimam tuam uxorem liberosque, quæso, meo nomine officiosissime salutes, & me, ut facis, ama,

Oates, 28 Nov.

Tui amantissimum,

J. Locke.

John Locke

10 Jan. 1692-3

London

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

QUAMPRIMUM ad urbem accessi nudiustertius, reverendissimus archiepiscopus me ad se vocari curavit, & ut conveni, de te & libro tuo multa cum laude præfatus, tandem dixit se ad te scripsisse negotiorum multitudine hactenus impeditus, paratamque epistolam sigillo muniens mihi in manus tradidit, ut inscriptione, illo dictante, mea manu exarata, tibi transmittendam curarem, quod libens suscepi. Insuper mihi tradidit libellum concionum nuper à se editarum, ut etiam ad te illum transmitterem, quod itidem diligenter curabo, & quamprimum hinc ad vos proficiscentem quempiam invenero ei tradam ad te perferendum. Hactenus de archiepiscopi mandatis. Ad me quod attinet multas tibi & habeo & refero gratias pro ea, quam ex historiæ tuæ lectione percepi voluptate. Illud credo exhausisti argumentum; certe illud mysterium iniquitatis mundo palam exposuisti, è tenebris in lucem protractum. Multarum rerum importuno impeditus interventu nondum integram perlegi, post brevem ac in urbe moram rus reversurus, pergam porro ut satisfaciam ei quod in me excitâsti desiderio. Novissimis tuis literis mihi pro more gratissimis responsum, hac in charta expectare non debes. Festinans ad urbem eas rure reliqui, illuc cum rediero, ad otii & quietis recessus, opportunior dabitur tecum colloquendi occasio, hic vix respirandi mihi conceditur facultas. Interim amicitiam humanitatemque tuam consuetam agnosco. Te maximo cum affectu saluto, tuosque omnes, imprimis dilectissimam conjugem, liberosque Veenios, Guenellonesque nostros, omniaque tibi prospera & felicia precor. Vale & me, ut facis, ama,

London

10 Jan.

1692-3.

Tui amantissimum,

J. Locke.

John Locke

10 Nov. 1693

London

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

JUSTE meum à te reprehendi silentium libens fateor nec si severiore manu delinquentem correxisses, queri possim. Etsi enim pudet me adeo tardum fuisse ad officia, ut non nisi bis monitus excitarer: gaudeo tamen me tanti apud te fuisse, ut me primis vocibus male respondentem, iterum tentandum arbitrareris: excusatione valetudinis, quam ipse tibi pro me suggessisti, uti non possum. Gratias enim Deo, ex quo ad te ultimas dedi, recte satis pro more meo valui, nec tamen sine omni causa à scribendo abstinui. Maximam partem libri tui summa cum voluptate perlegeram, progredi mihi in animo erat, et ad finem usque pervolvere, ut de toto opere, à capite ad calcem perspecto, eas quas possem gratias laudesque redderem. Non multum aberam à fine libri, & pauca illa capita, quæ mihi restabant legenda, spem quotidie fecerunt, intra paucos dies potuisse absolvi. Sed sic negotiorum & invisentium series, dum nova & inexpectata continuato ordine se invicem exciperent, me de die in diem protraxerunt & adhuc protraxissent, nisi novissimæ tuæ tam amica objurgatione, labentis temporis immemorem, primisque cogitationibus indormientem excitâssent. En habes fatentem reum, negligentem agnosco; sed eo consilio, eo animo negligentem, quem culpare vix possis: aut si qua fuerit culpa, ei spei toties deceptæ forte fuit (amicitiæ certe non fuit) quam eandem, quæ erga te semper fuit, nec minime, dum ego tacerem, siluisse profiteri gestio. Historia tua inquisitionis, ut de ea parte quam legi libri pronuntiem, mihi maxime placet: ordine, methodo, perspicuitate, testium fide mihi plane videtur opus absolutissimum, nec video, quid in eo desiderari possit. Et ab omnibus quotquot consulere contigit, maxime laudatur. Clericum nostrum nullas à me jam a pluribus hebdomadis (ut scribis) accepisse doleo; scripsi enim ad eum, ante duos circiter menses, iis inclusas à Comite Pembrokiensi ad illum misi literas, quas intercidisse vereor, quandoquidem Dus Clericus in novissimis suis 11 Septemb. datis de iis ne verbum quidem. Me illum de Spenceri obitu monuisse recte memini, & credo ea in epistola, quandoquidem tu id hactenus ignorare videris. Bibliorum Castellionis editionem, qualem tu narras, apud vos designari valde lætor, & viris literatis apud nos gratum acceptumque fore opus, non dubito: Post diuturnam rusticationem nuperus meus in urbem reditus nondum mihi concessit plurimorum doctorum colloquia; prout datur occasio, alios consulam, quamvis vix credi potest elegantem editionem, tam elegantis versionis, notis etiam aliisque scriptis eo spectantibus tam docti viri ornatam, non omnibus non placituram. Filiam tuam dilectissimam, quam febre continua laborâsse scripseras, tibi suisque sanam salvamque restitutam spero, reliquos tuos nostrosque recte valere gaudeo. Eos omnes, quotquot sunt, meo nomine, rogo, quam officiosissime salutes, quibus diuturnam sanitatem & prospera omnia largiatur Deus optimus maximus; te imprimis sospiter. Vale, & ut facis perge me amare,

London

10 Nov.

Tui amantissimum,

J. Locke.

John Locke

13 Jan. 1694

Oates

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

QUALEM te, Vir spectatissime, semper crediderim, talem re ipsa experior, ad omnia infucatæ amicitiæ officia natum, qui non solum pronus in beneficia bene merendi, nullam prætermittis occasionem, sed, quod difficilius est, eadem facilitate ignoscis amicorum delictis, qua alii offensiones objurgant. Diuturnum meum silentium graviori reprehensione dignum, simulas tardas tandem à me literas acceperis, quasi prima vocula penitus deletum condonas. Agnosco beneficium candoremque illum tuum, quo tuis, quo omnibus gratus, in quo me tuto repono: dum non ex literis amicitiam meam æstimas, nec silentio imminutam suspectus fueris. Id enim tibi persuasum vellem, tempus mihi & verba deesse posse, amicitiam, qua te amplector, qua semper amplexurus sum, mihi deesse vel labefactari nunquam posse.

In historia tua inquisitionis, ex quo novissime ad te dedi literas, non magnos progressus feci, quotidianis negotiis hactenus impeditus. Quod si ex duobus primis libris, quos summa cum voluptate perlegi, de duobus reliquis judicare licet, nihil potest esse in eo genere perfectius, nec ad perfectum illius tribunalis cognitionem aliquid desiderari potest. Laudo studium tuum, quod plerisque in locis ipsa authorum verba citaveris, etsi nihil contineant quod tu breviore & elegantiore stylo exprimere non potuisses, si lectori placere unica esset cura. Sed cum quo genere hominum tibi res est, recte tecum reputâsti, & eorum crimina, fraudes & sævitia ex eorum ipsorum ore optime discenda; vix enim credi poterant, si ab extraneo vel adversario afferrentur. Quæ autem ex aliis hauseris authoribus tam sero, ut editioni inseri suis apte in locis non potuerint, tuique in marginibus libri adscripseris, ea si nimis longa non sint, ut tibi nimiam transcribendi creent molestiam, si mihi per otium excerpta transmittere velis, gratissimum mihi facies, ut meum etiam librum iis ornem, & suis omnibus numeris perfectum habeam, ut nihil desit huic mysterio iniquitatis revelando. Literas tuas, per Hibernum illum transmissas, ille suis manibus rus huc ad me profectus mihi tradidit. Talem illum reperio, qualem tu descripseris, nec desunt hic tantæ spei fautores. Editionem illam Castellionis, quam meditantur elegantem, libens viderem, & nostratibus gratam fore, nullus dubito. Quod de harmonia evangelica doctissimi mei Toinardi ad me scribis, de editione illius ego quidem nunquam cogitavi, nec quod amplius est, unquam cogitabo, nisi ut ipsum authorem ad opus suum luce dignissimum edendum, qua data occasione, & quantum possum, impellam & instigem. Non quod ego hunc thesaurum literaro orbi invideam; ego summa ope, donec commercio literarum uti licuit, editionem ejus semper efflagitavi. Sed non ea (ut mihi visum est) fide mihi concreditum est hoc exemplar, ut ego harmoniam hanc, illo inscio aut inconsulto, typis mandarem. Si mihi integrum esset, statim sub prælo mitterem, sed dum ille vivit, aut aliunde à suis spes est proditurum, nulla quantivis pretii mercede è meis manibus in publicum elabi patiar. Nuper prodiit hic liber, quem Toinardo gratissimum fore scio. Si reperire possis viam, qua ad illum transmitti potest, mihi feceris acceptissimum beneficium. Liber quem ad illum mittere vellem, est Joannes Mallela Antiochenus, Oxonii non ita pridem editus. Si occasionem mittendi reperias, emptum apud vos librum, sive compactum, sive incompactum, prout commodissimum erit vecturæ, quæso ad illum mittas, à Monsieur Toinard à Orléans. Gaudio Veenium nostrum sanum salvumque in urbem & ad praxin rediisse. Vir, qui in artis suæ exercitatione à juventute usque consenuerat, continui tædio otii, credo, languesceret. Illum & Guenellonem nostrum uxoresque cum tota familia, quæso meo nomine officiocissime salutes. Pacem, concordiam, & amicitiam inter eos stabilitam spero, omnia fausta, uti par est, illis & tibi tuisque opto. Salutes etiam rogo optimam fœminam tuam, liberosque, quos sanos salvosque tibi Deus diu conservet. Vale, vir humanissime, &, ut facis, me ama,

Oates, 13 Jan.

Tui amantissimum,

J. Locke.

John Locke

26 Oct. 1694

Oates

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

Vir colendissime,

ETSI meam in scribendo tarditatem prorsus excusare nequeam, me tamen eo processisse negligentiæ, ut per totos novem menses te insalutatum præterirem nolim credas. Diuturnum nimis silentium haud invitus fateor, quod cum nec literarum tuarum satietas, nec imminuta erga te voluntas mea effecerit, facilem apud te veniam inventurum spero. Puduit sane ad te iterum scribere, antequam, opere tuo penitus perlecto, meam de eo sententiam sive potius gratulationem potuerim prescribere. Quantum voluptatis, quantum lucis ex accurata tua inquisitionis historia perceperim, vix dicere possum. Ita scripta est, ut decet historiam scribi, ubi non ad fastum aut delectationem inventa, vel ornata res est, quo facilius incautis lectoribus fucum faciat, sed omnia authorum fide & documentorum testimoniis rata & suffulta sunt: adeo ut quorum maxime interest redarguere, ne hiscere quidem audeant. Opus illud tenebrarum & occultas nefandæ crudelitatis artes in tam claram lucem ex latibulis suis protraxisti, ut si qua restarent in istis ecclesiæ, sive potius Antichristi, satellitibus, humanitatis vestigia, puderet illos tandem tam iniqui, tam horrendi tribunalis, ubi omne jus, fas, & justitia susque deque habetur. Verum si hæc opprobria, quæ refelli non possunt, nihil illos moveant, reformatis saltem & ex sævissimo hoc ergastulo ereptis, animos addet, contra tam inhumanam tyrannidem, quacunque specie sive religionis sive concordiæ, irrepere iterum conantem. Ea est disputantium sæpe contentio, ea argumentorum subtilitas & longa series, ut-non sit uniuscujusque se argutis & fallaciis innodatum expedire, & de summa controversiæ judicare. Si quis vero è plebe indoctus tuam perlegat historiam, sentiat statim illic certe deesse religionem, charitatem, justitiam, ubi violata æquitatis regula, omnique juris dicendi per orbem terrarum methodo, tam inhumana, tam crudelia perpetrantur, & ab evangelii genio remotissima: ideoque dignum opus existimo, quod in cujusque gentis linguam vulgarem traducatur, tam distincta enim & exacta methodo omnia tradidisti, & testibus exceptione majoribus confirmâsti, ut nihil in eo desiderari videatur, quod vulgus erudiat, literatos instruat, omnesque stabiliat. Si quid forte tibi, uti mones, occurrat, ad hoc argumentum pertinens, ex libris ante editam historiam tuam non visis, rogo ut per otium, si non sit nimis operosum, ad me velis transmittere; omnia enim huc facentia in librum tuum ad marginem, aptis in locis adscripta, conjicere animus est, uti nuper ex itinerario in orientem hoc quod sequitur excerptum, paginæ 276. libri tui inserui:

Le St. Office, ce redoutable tribunal fameux par ses injustices, & ses cruautés, regne ici [à Malthe] plus tyranniquement qu’à Rome même, & on m’a fait cent funestes recits, donc je vous épargnerai la tristesse, seulement vous dirai-je, que les confesseurs, qui par tout ailleurs sont tenus de garder le secret sur peine de feu, sont ici dans l’obligation de les réveler toutes les fois qu’il s’agit d’un cas d’inquisition, quoiqu’ils ne l’avoüent pas, car ce seroit le moyen d’empêcher les gens de se confesser: mais c’est une chose qu’on sçait pourtant bien. Cependant pour en ôter tout soupçon, on demeure quelquefois un an ou deux sans dire mot après quoi l’Inquisiteur envoye prendre un homme, & lui demande s’il sçait bien pourquoi il l’a fait saisir, alors c’est à lui de se ressouvenir de tout ce qu’il jamais avoir dit; que si malheureusement la memoire ne lui fournit pas, ou que le délit, dont il est coupable, ait été si secret que le seul confesseur en ait eu connoissance, & que se reposant ladessus il ne veuille pas avoüer c’est fait de cet hommelà, on l’étrangle dans la prison, & puis quelque tems après on dit à ses parens qu’il n’est pas besoin de lui porter manger. Heureux sont ceux qui ne sont point assuejettis à ce joug. Du Mont nouveau voyage au Levant 158/475. imprimé en 12° à la Haye, 1695.

Quas minatus es prolixiores literas avide expecto, & si sic ulciscaris silentium meum, quomodo remuneraberis diligentiam? Theologiam tuam tam brevi iterum prodituram gaudeo, pauca in ea emendanda facile crediderim; quanta quanta addideris, ex eodem erunt fonte, & augebunt apud lectores pretium. In magna æstimatione apud ecclesiæ Anglicanæ theologos scio. Quid in posterum futurum sit, nescio, audio enim nonnullos Calvinismum amplexuros, & prædestinationem (sic inter illos convenit) palam scriptis propugnaturos. Quot & quales in partes suas pertrahet nova hæc paucorum & adhuc privata societas, nondum conjicere licet. Latent omnia & secreto peraguntur, & si ex auctoribus, quorum nomina mihi amicus quidam secreto in aurem dixit, rem metiri libeat, non credo longe evasurum, nisi aliunde oriatur hoc consilium, aliosque habeat fautores. Si quid ultra privata aliquot inter se colloquia producat, hoc nonnullorum molimen dies indicabit, & tunc quid velint, quo tendant, rectius judicabimus. Sed hæc hactenus. Dolet certe tantam inter nos loci esse intercapedinem: si vicinus essem, haberes me consultorem quotidie ostia tua pulsantem. Pauci admodum sunt limati judicii homines, quibuscum poteris liberè de speculationibus quibuscunque, multo minus de rebus religionis disserere. Deest mutua charitas, deest candor, & ut suæ quisque ignorantiæ velum obtendat, non facile dat veniam alienæ. Nec dubia quæcunque licet proponere, nisi paratus venias te totum illis tradere, & in verba jurare, vel censuris onustus hæreticus abire. Non hoc de meipso queror, tanquam aliquid passus ab iniquo amicorum judicio; sed tamen jucundum est in proximo habere, quem de maximis minimisque aperte & audacter consulas. Libri mei de Intellectu Humano secunda editio distrahitur, celerius quam credere possem, nec adhuc invenit dissertatio illa, utcunque heterodoxa, oppugnatorem. Utinam eo esset sermone conscripta, ut tuo uti, de universis eo in opere contentis, judicio liceret. Urgent aliqui versionem, quærit traductorem bibliopola, & sperat brevi repertum iri, nam mihi non vacat. Vix per valetudinem & succrescentia quotidie negotia licuit mihi, nisi lento gradu & intercisis temporibus, tuam perlegere historiam, quanquam legendi voluptas me vix patiebatur ingressum avelli. Bibliopola efflagitat, tamen, ut versionem recensere velim, ut si qua à meo sensu aberraverit corrigam, quod sane vix recusare possum. Sed quid his te tædio prolixioris epistolæ jam fatigatum detineo? Vale, &, ut facis, me ama,

Oates, 26 Oct.

Tui amantissimum,

J. Locke.

Philippus à Limborch

12 Dec. 1694

Amstelod.

Joanni Locke

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

MAGNA cum voluptate tuas accepi & legi: etsi enim affectum erga me tuum nullatenus fuisse imminutum plene persuasus essem, nihilominus, post tam diuturnum silentium, literas tuas videre non potuit non esse gratissimum. Historiam meam inquisitionis calculo tuo probari, est quod mihi gratulor. Scio judicium tuum esse candidum ac limatissimum. In præconiis vero quæ addis agnosco propensissimum tuum erga me affectum, qui omnia quæ probas vero majora tibi repræsentavit. Ego veritati litare studui, & tribunal illud ita exhibere, prout ipsi doctores pontificii, imo inquisitores id nobis depingunt. Scio quidem, quando sparsim in ipsorum libris procedendi modus describitur, & fucatis coloribus palliatur, non ita patere ejus injustitiam & fœditatem, quam quando omnia simul inter se connexa nude, sine fuco, omnium oculis exponuntur. Non crediderim quenquam, ne quidem ex acerrimis inquisitionis patronis, me malæ fidei insimilaturum; et si quis id ausit, statim autorum, quorum nomina margini passim adscripsi, testimoniis redargui poterit. Sed quam dispari fato libri prodeunt? Tu historiam meam dignam judicas, quæ in cujusque gentis linguam vernaculam traducatur. Romæ vero, 19 die Maii, hujus anni, edicto cardinalium, in tota rep. christiana inquisitorum generalium, condemnata est, ejusque lectio severissime prohibita, sub pœnis in indice librorum prohibitorum contentis. Decretum hoc, quo & alii libri condemnantur, triduo post, videl. 22 Maii, fuit publicatum & affixum ad valvas basilicæ principis apostolorum, palatii S. Officii, & in acie campi Floræ, ac aliis locis solitis & consuetis urbis. Sed mitiorem sententiam quis ab inquisitione expectet, contra historiam, quæ artes ac crudelitates ipsius, quas occultas omnibusque ignotas esse cupit, à tenebris erutas, palam totius mundi oculis exponit, tribunalque hoc non sanctitate venerandum, sed injustitia, crudelitate, fraudibus, & imposturis execrandum exhibet? Aliter enim, si vere describatur, exhiberi nequit. Quæ ego ex aliis autoribus, quos postmodum mihi videre contigit, annotavi, & quæ in posterum in aliis, qui forte mihi ostendentur, reperiam, libentissime ad te mittam. Vidi quæ ex itinerario Du Mont annotâsti, quæ optime illo quem designâsti loco margini historiæ meæ adscribi possunt. Sed, ut ingenue dicam, valde dubito, an narratio illius vera sit. Malæ fidei ipsum neutiquam accuso: sed fieri facile potest, ut peregrinatores, non diu in regione aliqua commorantes, incidant in homines legum & consuetudinum patriarum non admodum peritos, nonnunquam etiam mendaces, ex quorum ore quædam veritati minus consentanea, sine accuratiore investigatione, annotant. Qualia multa in itinerariis eorum, qui patriæ nostræ mores & consuetudines describunt, observavi. Ratio dubitandi est: quia video omnes doctores pontificios, necnon omnia decreta ecclesiastica solicite admodum urgere, arcana confessionis non esse patefacienda; imo ne hæresin quidem sub sigillo confessionis revelatam; solummodo sacerdotibus injungunt, ne hæresin confesso absolutionem impertiantur, sed omnibus quas possunt rationibus hortentur, ut in judicio coram inquisitoribus juridice confiteatur. Scio quidem, non omnia quæ legibus præcipiuntur, exacte in praxi inquisitionis observari, & sub specioso confessionis non revelandæ prætextu, simpliciores inescari posse, ut ingenue, etiam quæ inquisitoribus ignota sunt, confiteantur, quæ à sacerdotibus porro inquisitoribus revelari possunt, neque à tali impostura tribunalis illius sanctitatem abhorrere credo; attamen, quia omnes ipsorum constitutiones, instructiones & leges, omnia illius ecclesiæ decreta contrarium præcipiunt, non id affirmare ausim, nisi autor sit probatus, cujus nec peritia nec fides in dubium vocari queat. Quare loco, quem mihi suggessisti, ex itinerario Du Mont, addi posset, si vera sit illius narratio, exinde evidenter liquere inquisitorum praxin sæpe adversari inquisitionis instructionibus & legibus: inquisitoresque unice tantum spectare, qua ratione miseros captivos per fas & nefas decipiant, atque ita, fraudibus irretitos, misera morte perdant. Post hasce scriptas, tristis me de subita optimi Archiepiscopi Cantuariensis morte nuntius non leviter perculit. Destinaveram ipsi Theologiæ meæ Christianæ exemplar; pridie autem, antequam tradi potuerit, mortuus est. Ecclesiæ reformatæ tanto patrono, tam prudenti, perito, pacis amantissimo antistiti orbatæ, statum doleo. Utinam Deus, qui potens est etiam è lapidibus Abrahæ filios excitare, alium nobis substituat, illi si non parem, quod vix sperare ausim, tamen vestigia ejus, quantum fieri potest, proxime prementem! Ille tibi & dominæ Masham vitam ad seros usque annos producat. Vale, & me, ut facis, amare non desine,

Amstelod.

12 Dec.

Tui amantissimum,

P. à Limborch

John Locke

11 Dec. 1694

London

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

LIBRUM tuum à bibliopola, & epistolam tuam 12 datam, recte accepi, utrumque gratissimum, & quia tuam, & quia à te. Epistolam tuam, à capite ad calcem, summa cum voluptate perlegi, gratulorque filiæ tuæ nuperæ talem illi obtigisse patrem, cui nec mens defuit, nec viscera. Qualis inde fuit nonnullorum animus christiano homini esset mirandum, nisi inter hujusmodi zelotas christianæ religionis diu versatus essem. Sed ubique ejusdem farinæ homines reperire est, qui an salutem quærant animarum, an evangelio quæstum faciant, judicent alii; ego quod doleam, quod indignor, hic, illic, undique video. Theologiam tuam Christianam, quamprimum otium nactus fuero, diligentius perscrutabor; his enim jam fere studiis mihi vacandum censeo, tantoque impensius me tibi vicinum jam opto, quod erepto nobis magno illo & candido veritatis indagatore (ut cæteras illius virtutes taceam) vix jam habeo, quem de dubiis theologicis libere possum consulere. Quantum virum respublica Anglicana, quantum columen ecclesia reformata amiserit, alii judicabunt. Ego certe à multis annis stabilem, candidum, sincerum, summo meo cum damno & desiderio, amisi amicum, Tillotson. V. Birch’s Life of him, . 1. ed.

Addenda tua ad Historiam Inquisitionis, quamprimum rus rediero, locis suis inseram, novum amicitiæ tuæ monumentum. Recte mones de excerptis ex itinerario Du Mont. Nec enim ut reliqui tui scriptores (qua usus es cautione) pro teste citari potest, tum quia reformatus, tum quia peregrinus. Ego vero illius verba non inidonea judicabam, quæ fidem facerent isti, quæ ex tota pontificiorum œconomia enascitur; illos scil. quicquid præ se ferant, non omissuros tantam rei suæ bene gerendæ & hæreseos extirpandæ occasionem, quæ ex confessionibus possit oriri: nec aliter confessiones tacitas esse, si quid habeant momenti, quam ut laicis, & quibus non opus esset, non evulgarentur. Hæc ego raptim inter urbis negotia & laborantium pulmonum anhelitus, ut scires tua munera, quibus me tam magnifice cumulâsti, ad me salva pervenisse. Si ita silentium meum ulciscaris, dubitari possit, an non commodum fuerit peccare: scias enim velim de tuis epistolis, quod de Ciceronis orationibus jure dici posse, optimam esse quæ longissima est. Die Veneris novissimo ad urbem appuli, in hospitio meo inveni literas Clerici nostri 7 datas, quibus brevi responsurus sum; interim rogo, ut illum Guenellonemque nostrum meo nomine salutes; utrique gratias agam pro epistolis mea manu, ubi otium & solatium ruris nactus fuero, hic enim laborant pulmones, nec longam in urbe patietur valetudo mea moram. Uxorem tuam dilectissimam liberosque, Veenium nostrum optimamque uxorem illius saluto & Grævium Ultrajectensem, cui ego debeo epistolam, & illius humanitati nondum respondisse pudet. Vale, & perge, ut facis, me amare,

London

11 Dec.

Tui amantissimum,

J. Locke.

Philippus à Limborch

26 Apr. 1695

Amstelod.

Joanni Locke

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

ULTIMAM meam epistolam recte ad manus tuas pervenisse gaudeo. Autographum sententiarum inquisitionis Tholosanæ Romani in manus meas incidisse mirantur: quod N. N. sacerdos quidam ab episcopo Hollandiæ ad ipsum missus, ut libri possessorem ex ipso resciscat, affirmavit. N. N. imprudenter me eum à Furlæo accepisse respondit; verum alium ejus esse possessorem, cujus nomen ignorabat; aiebatque librum à te olim visum Monspeliis. Ego dixi N. N. librum à te in Gallia visum alium esse ab hoc. Addit ille, sacerdotem, rogâsse, ut ex me nomen possessoris exquirat, Respondi ego, me nomen illius ignorare, illud semel me ex fratre ipsius audivisse, sed penitus illius oblitum esse: & licet scirem inconsultum esse illud sacerdoti indicare; quia hoc tam solicite inquiri judicem, ut possessore detecto, ingenti pretio exemplar hoc sibi redimant, ac Romam mittant, ut ita occasionem habeant me falsi accusandi. Idem sibi videri aiebat. Addidi ego, optâsse me, ut nomen Furlæi non indicâsset: sed quoniam vox emissa reverti nequit, nihil, ulterius esse aperiendum: sed paucis tantum respondendum me possessoris nomen ignorare. Hoc in se suscepit, sed non recte servavit; nam ex fratre suo postea nomen hoc rescivit, & proculdubio sacerdoti indicavit. Nam à me rogatus, se nescire ait, an indicaverit; affirmare se non posse, nec quod indicaverit nec quod non indicaverit. Hoc certum est, nomen sacerdoti innotuisse, quia alius postea Furlæum, ad quem hæc scripseram, accessit, & possessorem nominavit, prout tibi Furlæus scripsit. Spero librum à te jam emptum, ac Furlæum illius esse possessorem. Ita omnes illorum conatus irriti erunt. Laudo ego Furlæi prudentiam, quod à sacerdote testimonium de libri authenteia exegerit, & sacerdotis candorem, qui id tamen luculenter dedit. Interim si forte exemplar ipsum nacti fuissent, & Roman misissent, non video quâ ratione volumen, quod edidi, supposititium dicere possent. Adeo enim ævum illud barbarum redolet, historiasque singulares illius temporis refert, ut tale quid à quoquam nunc temporis fingi minime queat. Præstat tamen id in manibus non esse illorum, quorum interest mysteria hæc iniquitatis tegi, & coram sole non propalari. Vides hic duo adhuc additamenta ad Historiam Inquisitionis epistolæ huic adscripta, quæ, si operæ pretium videatur, reliquis junges. Lutheranus quidam professor Kiloniensis, contra theologiam meam Christianam, exercitationes Anti-Limborchianas edidit. Ita Romæ & in Germania vapulo. Librum satis, ut audio, crassum nondum vidi: sed in Actis Lipsiensibus ejus compendium legi. Verum in ejusmodi antagonistam ego calamum non stringam. Non pugnant illi homines, quantum ex Actis illis mihi colligere licet, pro veritate; sed pro recepta opinione, decretis humanis, & autoritate ecclesiastica. Orthodoxiæ illis norma est consensus cum doctrina Lutherana. Contra tales frustra disputatur. Non enim operæ pretium est, ut inquiramus quid ecclesia Lutherana doceat, quod ex libris & decretis illius ecclesiæ satis notum est, sed, an illius doctrina vera sit, & à scriptoribus divinis dictata. Ita papatum ubique reperimus, & sub specioso orthodoxiæ conversandæ prætextu propria dominatio stabilitur. Sic orthodoxia semper penes potentiorem erit, veritasque alia erit Romæ, alia Genevæ, alia Wittenbergæ. Hæc incommoda vitari nequeunt, si humana placita orthodoxiæ ϰϱιτήϱιον sunt. Quæ in illis exercitationibus maxime odiosa occurrunt, Lipsienses accurate annotârunt. Observavi hanc in illis malignitatem dicam, an inconsultum zelum; quod si in autoribus, quos recenset, quædam reperiantur aut convitia aut inclementius in Remonstrantes dicta, ea solicite indicare soleant, verbisque odiosissimis exprimere. Nescio quo suo facto Remonstrantes inimicitiam eorum in se provocaverint, nisi forsan liberiore veritatis inquisitione, & dissentientium fraterna tolerantia. In ipsos enim calamum nunquam strinximus, neque ego in eos scribam, aut me à criminationibus eorum purgabo; non enim me illis purgatum dabo, nisi me aliis, quibus jam placeo, ingratum reddam. Itaque silentio & contemptu illos ulciscar. Sed aliud quid est quod te velim. Marcus Teuto in gratiam reverendissimi Bathoniensis ac Wellensis in se suscepit versionem vitæ Episcopii, à me conscriptæ, in linguam Latinam. Varia ego citavi ex epistolis ecclesiasticis præstantium ac eruditorum virorum, & ex actis Remonstrantium synodalibus, quæ cum à me è Latino in Belgicum sermonem translata sint, ipse è Belgico in Latinum vertere non debet, sed prout in ipsis libris Latine leguntur, exhibere. Destitutum autem se illis queritur, nec usquam se eos reperire posse. Non dubito quin in multorum Anglorum bibliothecis reperiantur. Si tua opera eos habere possit à quopiam, magnum illi non tantum facies laboris compendium, sed & versionem efficies & meliorem & gratiorem. Ego, si quid hac in parte illi prodesse queas, mihi prestitum agnoscam. Vale, vir amplissime, mihique dilectissime,

Amstelod.

26 Apr.

Tui amantissimus,

P. à Limborch.

John Locke

10 Maii, 1695

Oates

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

QUAMPRIMUM ego novissimas tuas 26 Aprilis datas acceperam, statim Londinum scripsi, & quantum in me est curavi, ut libri, quos ad opus suum desiderat Marcus ille noster, sicubi reperiri possint, ei suppeditentur. Eo diutius responsum distuli, ut quid in hoc & altero illo negotio Tholosano factum sit, certiorem te facerem; sed nec D’Aranda, nec alter, cujus curæ librorum perquisitionem commisi, hactenus quicquam rescripserant, sed ex eorum silentio nolim ego male ominari.

De autographo, an Furleii jam sit, rectius ex ipso quam ex me cognosces: non quod ego negligens ea in re vel otiosus fuerim procurator: sed cum per valetudinem Londinum ea tempestate adire non auderem, totum negotium amico nostrûm communi commisi, viro prudenti & sedulo, cui scirem rem cordi fore; & ne mora circuitu literarum per manus meas transeuntium officeret, post primum quod ab amico Londinensi accepi responsum, quo intellexi illum omnem navaturum operam, ut rem transigeret, monui ut recte ad Furleium scriberet, ut ex illo resciret quod scitu ad rem recte perficiendam adhuc opus esset. Hoc ab eo factum nullus dubito: si quid amplius à me præstari possit, omnem operam, curam, industriam me in eo locaturum pro certo habeas.

Quod de Oxoniensibus nostris dicis, quanquam nihil fando audiverim, facile crediderim: quod Kiloniensem adversarium negligis, laudo; quodque ab aliis inter se dissentientibus vapulas tanto magis æstimo, veritatis enim sinceris, & incorruptis authoribus sic fieri solet. Pro Theologia tua Christiana jam denuo a me tibi reddendæ sunt gratiæ, non quod bibliothecam volumine, sed me scientia auxerit. Hac enim hyeme, in quo consisteret fides christiana, diligenter apud me cogitando, ex ipsis scripturæ s. fontibus hauriendum duxi, semotis quibuscunque sectarum & systematum opinionibus, & orthodoxiis. Ex intenta & accurata N. Testamenti lectione novi fœderis status & evangelii doctrina mihi apparuit, ut mihi videbatur meridiana luce clarior, nec quid & fides christiana dubitari posse, sincero evangelii lectori, mihi persuasissimum est. Ideoque cogitata mea in chartam conjeci, ut ea melius partium inter se convenientiam, & harmoniam, & fundamenta, quibus inniterentur, sedate & per otium contemplarer. Cum omnia in hoc meo symbolo sana, & verbo divino ubique conformia videbantur, theologos consulendos duxi (reformatos videlicet) ut quid illi de fide senserint, viderem. Calvinum adii, Turretinum, aliosque, quos ita id argumentum tractâsse fateri cogor, ut quid dicant, quid velint, capere nequaquam possim; adeo dissona mihi in illis omnia videntur à sensu & simplicitate evangelica, ut illorum scripta intelligere, nedum cum sacro codice reconciliare, non valeam. Tandem spe meliore tuam in manus cepi theologiam, nec sine summo gaudio legi, cap. viii. lib. v. quo intellexi aliquem reperiri theologum, cui ego non plane essem hæreticus. Ut in libro tuo legendo ultra pergerem, nondum satis vacui temporis nactus sum. Nihil mihi optatius esse possit, quam te videre, & te coram, quæ commentatus sum, legere & explicare, ut limato & incorrupto judicio subjicerentur. Hæc tibi in aurem dicta sunto, nam me hoc trâctasse argumentum tibi soli communicatum volo. Saluto Veenios, Guenellones tuamque imprimis familiam. Vale, &, ut facis, me ama,

Oates, 10 Maii,

Tui amantissimum,

J Locke.

Philippus à Limborch

1696

Amstelod.

Joanni Locke

JOANNI LOCKE, PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

UTRI nostrum diuturnum ac pertinax illud silentium imputandum sit, ignoro. Importunus sim, si à te, negotiis publicis occupatissimo, ad singulas meas responsum efflagitem, aut silentium tuum silentio ulciscar. Amicitia sincera rigorem illum adversatur, neque epistolarum æquali numero, sed fide ac charitate mutua constat. Interim dulcissimo consuetudinis nostræ fructu jam ultra annum carui. Ultimæ enim tuæ, quibus me respondisse memini, decimo Maii die anni præcedentis scriptæ sunt. Salutem mihi à te aliquoties dixerunt D. D. Clericus & Guenellonus, & literas mihi à te brevi scribendas nuntiârunt, quas tamen hactenus frustra expectavi; hoc autem negotiorum tuorum, quibus obrutus es, frequentiæ unice adscribendum duco. Aliquoties tibi scribere gestii; sed veritus sum, ne importunior scriptio ab amico occupatissimo responsum minus tempestivum extorquere videretur. Nunc vero, cum munus tibi honoratissimum, à primoribus Angliæ demandatum esse, constans ad nos fama pertulit: silentium abrumpendum censui, ut dignitatem hanc non tam tibi, quam Angliæ, gratuler, quæ in collegio amplissimo, una cum summis regni proceribus, te assessorem habet, cujus consilia omnia prudentia, fide, candore ac sinceritate diriguntur, & communi civium saluti unice destinantur. Deus vitam tibi largiatur longævam, consiliisque tuis successum, quem merentur, concedat. Ego hic occupatus vivo; & tamen vix quicquam promoveo, non aliter ac si otio desidioso torperem. Arminii scripta inedita me occupatum tenent: promisi ego bibliopolæ Germano, me ea paraturum ad editionem; sed in scriptis ejus relegendis, ob characterum exilitatem & ductum lectu neutiquam commodum, tantam reperio difficultatem, ut nisi tanti viri memoria, & non exigua, quam inde ad publicum rediturum video utilitas, ingrati laboris molestiam levaret, jam operæ promissæ pœnituisset. Hoc opus ubi edidero, nullis amplius posthumis aliorum operibus edendis me fatigabo. Oculorum acies sæpissime intendenda est, ut characteres exiles, & vetustate multis in locis ferme evanescentes legantur. Ita multum temporis impendo, non tamen eo cum fructu, qui temporis diuturnitatem compensare possit. Sed quoniam alea jacta est, pergendum est. Prodibunt de novo prælectiones in Jonam & Malachiam, quibus annectitur disputatio contra Judæos, in posteriorem ad Thessalonicenses, in secundum & tertium caput Apocalypseos; & disputatio contra cardinalem Perronium: quæ cum opusculis antehac editis justum conficient volumen. Præmiset D. Casper Brantius prolixiorem vitæ Arminii historiam, quæ multa hactenus exteris ignota continebit. Prodiit nuper apud nos tractatus Anglici, “quod Religio Christiana, qualis nobis est repræsentata in scriptura sacra, sit summe rationalis,” versio Gallica. Illius autorem volunt multi esse amicum meum. Ego respondeo, mihi nihil de eo constare; & cum autor, quisquis ille sit, latere vult, nostrum non esse conjecturis, ut plurimum fallacibus, indulgere. Ego summa cum voluptate lectioni illius incumbo, & in præcipuo (quod toto libro, de fidei christianæ objecto tractat) argumento illi prorsus assentior. Hoc recte precepto, gravissimas ac acerbissimas in ecclesia christiana disputationes feliciter componi posse puto; saltem ecclesiæ, non obstante opinionum diversitate, pacem facili negotio posse restitui: ea enim quæ nunc à plerisque ut unicum ferme christianismi fundamentum urgentur, objecto fidei non comprehendi planum fiet. Quod unicum anathematismis, schismatibus, & odiis tollendis remedium est. Ego, ut videas me attente tractatum hunc legere, omniaque argumenta exacte ponderare, non possum, quin tibi observationem quandam indicem, quæ licet forte non magni videri posset esse momenti, tamen argumento autoris, quo utitur, pondus aliquod afferre potest. Cap. iv, autor ad suæ sententiæ stabilimentum adducit locum ex 2 epist. Joan. ver. 7, quem optime ab ipso allegatum judicio: verum versio Gallica ita eum exhibet, ut, me judice, non exacte exprimat sensum, qui in Græco extat, quique sententiam autoris validius confirmat. Qua ratione eum Anglice expresserit autor, ignoro. Gallice autem ita extat: “Que plusieurs imposteurs se sont élevez dans la monde, lesquels ne confessent point, que Jesus, le Messie, soit venu en chair:” quæ sensum hunc continere videntur, quod impostores hi non confessi sunt, quod Jesus, qui est Messias, venerit in carne, Græcus autem textus ita habet: Ὁτι πολλοὶ πλάνοι εἰσῆλθον εἰς τὸν ϰόσμον, οἱ μὴ ὁμολογȣ͂ντες Ἰησȣν Χριϛὸν ἐρχόμενον ἐν σαρϰί. Quæ posteriora verba ego verto, non, qui non confitentur Jesum, qui est Christus seu Messias, in carne venisse; sed, qui non confitentur Jesum Messiam, qui in carne venit: non enim est infinitivus in Græco, sed participium. Hic sensus est longe alius, & autoris hujus scopo multo accommodatior. Priore enim sensu hæc esse impostorum falsa doctrina arguitur, quod non confiteantur Jesum, qui est Messias, in carne venisse. Inde sequeretur quod qui confitetur Jesum, de quo Joannes affirmat quod sit Messias (vox enim Χϱιϛὸς, per appositionem, hoc sensu est legenda) in carne venisse, maneat in doctrina Christi, ut est ver. 9. Atqui multi, qui non credebant Jesum esse Messiam, credebant tamen Jesum, qui Messias est, in carne venisse. Si posteriore sensu vertantur, tum sensus est, impostores non confiteri Jesum Christum, qui in carne venit; hoc est, non confiteri, quod ille Jesus, qui in carne venit, sit Messias. Confiteri enim Jesum Messiam, est, confiteri quod Jesus sit Messias, seque illius discipulum profiteri; juxta Matth. x. 32. Illum autem Jesum, quem confiteri oportet, describit Joannes, quod sit ille qui in carne venit, & inter Judæos versatus est. Inde sequitur, quod ille in doctrina Christi maneat, qui confitetur quod Jesus, qui in carne venit, sit Messias. Et hæc est sincera fidei in Christum confessio. Eundem esse sensum puto, 1 Joan. iv. 2, 3. ubi similiter non reperitur infinitivus, sed participium ἐληλυθότα. Non est quidem hæc observatio tanti in hoc negotio, facit tamen ad genuinam textus Græci intelligentiam, & autoris instituto favet. In aliis autem disputationibus, quæ cum Mennonitis nostratibus instituuntur, maximi est usus. Sed tempus est ut abrumpam. Vides tibi cum homine loquace rem esse, qui cum literis suis te compellat, calamo imperare non potest. Vale, vir amplissime, & feliciter age.

Amstelod..

… .

Tui observantissimus,

P. à Limborch.

John Locke

3 Sept. 1696

London

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

SI omnes in religione eo uterentur candore, quo tu usus es in amicitia, non majorem offensionem inter dissentientes parerent argumenta, quam inter nos nuper peperit diuturnum nimis silentium. Si epistolarum reciprocationem æstimem, an tua major taciturnitas, an mea, dicere non ausim, credo me ea ex parte peccâsse. Ea vero utcunque se res habeat, tu certe humanitate tua & ignoscendo prior effecisti, ut culpa omnino mea sit, eoque magis probrosam mihi sentio, quod tu & levissima quidem reprehensione abstinuisti; negotiorum excusatione, qua pro me apud te usus es, aliquid momenti erga alium habere potuisset, certe tibi me eo nomine excusatum nolim, addere etiam poteram valetudinem, tota præterita hyeme valde incommodam. Sed nec hoc quidem, quo minus tam charo, tam fido amico scriberem, impedimento esse non debuit. Visrem ipsam ut tibi scriberem, semper quæro tempus omnino vacuum, animumque ab aliis curis & cogitationibus liberum; hoc cum raro accidit ita ad voluntatem, ut non ad aliud & magis opportunum tempus rejiciam, de die in diem differendo annus elabitur, & tandem pudor culpæ superveniens tardiorem reddit. Si hoc ignaviæ latebram dicas, non recuso; hoc certo scio imminutæ amicitiæ, vel mutatæ voluntatis non esse crimen; & forsan ut omnia fatear, non expeditus linguæ Latinæ usus fastidium menti non bene se explicanti oggerit. Sed tua amicitia & benevolentia, vir amplissime, omnia superat. Gratulationem tuam, eo, quo tu scripsisti animo, id est, amicissimo, accipio: sed quid tandem mihi, senectutis & valetudinis onere succumbenti, cum negotiorum publicorum tumultu? Secessus mihi jam quærendus esset, & vel annis vel studiis meis quies. Hoc, si mihi credas, & magis aveo, & mihi magis accommodatum credo, sed nescio quo fato, quod alius ambitiose & frustra quærit, alii vel inscio, vel etiam detrectanti tribuitur. Viri istius magni scripta inedita, tua opera proditura, gratulor reipub. christianæ. De libro Anglicano in linguam Gallicam verso, cujus lectioni, cum ad me scripseras, incubuisti, idem tecum sentio, contentionum & schismatum radices evellit, quantum id potest religionis christianæ veritas & fundamentum, si id auctor recte explicuerit, ut mihi videtur; cum vero totum perlegeris, & tuam & aliorum de tractatu illo sententiam scire vellem. Theologis nostris tam confirmistis, quam non-conformistis, displicere audio; reliqui (ut fit) probant, improbantve, prout suo vel alieno innituntur judicio. Quod monuisti de loco Joannis tecum sentio: idem est in versione nostra, quem in Gallica observâsti, error; sed ad rem facit, verum appositè magis textus Græcus, quem tu rectissime, ut mihi videtur, interpretaris. Vale, vir amplissime, & me ama,

London

3 Sept.

Tui amantissimum,

J. Locke.

Philippus à Limborch

26 Martii, 1697

Amstelod.

Joanni Locke

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

CITIUS tuis, decimo quinto demum Octobris die mihi redditis, respondissem, verum quoniam judicium meum de tractatu Anglicano in linguam Gallicam verso petiisti, tempus à reliquis curis vacuum quæsivi, ut tractatum illum elegantissimum uno tenore perlegere, omniaque illo contenta considerare & expendere possem. Maxime mihi opportunum videbatur tempus hoc hibernum, quo ab exercitiis academicis feriari solemus; sed & illud frigore suo acutissimo non leviter impetum scribendi remoratum est. Legi totum tractatum à capite ad calcem: nec unicâ lectione contentus, eum relegi. Interim huc perlatus est actorum Lipsiensium mensis October, quo compendium tractatus illius, pro doctorum illorum more, nobis exhibetur. Primo aiunt autoris illius Pockii nomen esse dici (credo eos incerto rumori temere fidem adhibuisse, & in nomine una aberrâsse litera) tum compendio quod confecere, omnia, quibus aliquam autori invidiam conflari posse putant, sedulo enumerant, ut systematum theologicorum contemptum ulcisci velle videantur. Extollunt magnifice Joannem Edvardum, quod præclare hactenus in Anglia contra Socinianam hæresin variis scriptis militaverit, librumque ediderit meditationum quarundam de causis & occasione atheismi, hodierni præsertim sæculi; in quo passim autoris hujus anonymi sententias, ut periculosas & à socinianismo ac atheismo non alienas, perstrinxit. Subjungunt hisce compendium duorum scriptorum, quorum alterum brevis pro tractatu illo est apologia: alterum Joannis Edvardi, titulo, “Socinianism unmasked.” Tu illos tractatus rectius me nôsti. Videntur dolere, quod meditationes Edvardi ipsis ad manum non fuerint; alias & illarum compendium habuissemus. Systemo theologiæ me scripsisse nôsti: non tamen eo in pretio apud me systemata sunt, ut non hunc exiguum tractatum multis systematibus præferam; imo plus veræ theologiæ ex illo, quam ex operosis multorum systematibus hausisse me ingenue profiteor. Sed vero theologiam autor ille tradit nimis facilem, nimis laxam, quæ salutem angustis humanorum decretorum vinculis alligatam minime cupit; nec orthodoxiam ex sectarum confessionibus, sed solo verbo divino arcessit. Hoc crimen est, quod socinianismi & atheismi infami convitio à doctoribus systematicis traduci meretur: non aliter ac si, qui humana placita religiose adorare recusant, eo ipso omnem religionem ejurare censendi essent. Ego autoris in hoc tractatu scopum summopere laudo; scopum suum feliciter assecutum esse, solideque ipsum, quod intendit, probâsse judico. Imprimis placent miho duo: methodus accurata historiæ evangelicæ, quam cap. ix. tradit, & per quam varia loca in evangeliis, in speciem obscura, feliciter admodum interpretatur: & perspicua illa deductio argumentorum, quibus ostendit, cur D. Jesus Christus, in terris degens, non expressis verbis docuerit se esse Messiam. Hæc autori huic peculiaria sunt, ipsiusque judicium ingeniique perspicaciam clarè demonstrant. In iis autem plurima sunt, quibus præcipium libri sui argumentum, quod est, fidem, quod Jesus sit Christus, eam esse, per quam justificamur, luculenter confirmat. Habes hic judicium meum de tractatu hoc, quem & tertio relegere statui. Petis autem ut, si quædam in illius lectione observarem, tibi scriberem. Ego in tractatu adeo eximio vix quicquam, quod tibi proponi meretur, observavi: ita sibi penitus me habet assentientem, ut exigua sint, quæ observaverim, quæque principali ipsius scopo nihil officiunt, & quæ forsitan à me non plene intellecta sunt. Quia vero judicium meum requiris, ego hæc, qualiacunque, tibi expendenda propono; non quia alicujus pretii sunt, sed ut morem geram tuæ voluntati. Statim in initio autor dicit, super lapsu Adami fundatam esse doctrinam de redemptione. Equidem certum est, lapsum Adami à doctrinâ de redemptione non excludi; attamen & propria cujusque nostrûm peccata ab ea secludenda non sunt. Plurimorum doctorum sententia est, Dominum Jesum nos liberâsse è miseria, in quam per Adami peccatum incidimus, & in eundem felicitatis statum, quem in Adamo amissimus, restituisse. Ego puto illos exiliter nimium de immenso Christi beneficio sentire, ipsumque ex multis peccatis, ut Apostolus, Rom. v, loquitur, nos liberâsse, & ad statum multo feliciorem, vitam nempe æternam in cœlis perduxisse. Huic addo: quod ibidem dicatur, Adamum per peccatum amisisse immortalitem, & factum esse mortalem. Si immortalitas autori huic significet, quod Adamus si non peccâsset, moriturus non fuisset, & mortalitas, quod per peccatum necessitatem moriendi contraxerit; verissimam ejus sententiam judico. Si vero immortalitas, ut vox illa proprie sonat, illi significet moriendi impossibilitatem, non recte dici puto Adamum fuisse creatum immortalem. Ego sententiam meam plenius explicui in theologia mea Christiana, lib. ii. cap 24. Verum hæc immortalitas, hoc est, immunitas à morte, alterius plane est generis quam immortalitas Dei: sicut & mortalitas, seu moriendi potentia, multum differt à morte, seu moriendi necessitate. Quare etiam minus commode mihi dictum videtur, , quod Adami immortalitas sit imago Dei, ad quam conditus est: & licet concederetur, alibi immortalitatem vocari imaginem Dei; non tamen exinde sequeretur, quando Adamus ad imaginem Dei conditus dicitur, illam imaginem esse immortalitatem; non enim necesse est, omnia quæ alibi scriptura imagine Dei designat, ea comprehensa esse, quando hominem ad imaginem Dei conditum dicit: sufficit eximiam quandum in homine esse qualitatem, respectu cujus imaginem Dei referre dici possit. Inter alia loca video, , citari ad Rom. cap. viii. 29, ubi dicimur, à Deo præcogniti & prædestinati “ut simus conformes imagini filii ejus, ut ipse sit primogenitus inter multos fratres.” Putat autor illa imagine, cui conformes esse debemus, designari immortalitatem & vitam æternam. Ego autem non tam vitam æternam, quam modum ad vitam æternam perveniendi, quo fideles Christi similes esse debent, hic significari credo, nimirum per crucem & afflictiones: quam imaginem Dominus discipulis indicat, Luc. xxiv. 26. “nonne oportuit Christum ista pati atque intrare in gloriam suam?” Hanc explicationem totius capitis series evincit: jam enim, v. 17, dixerat “hæredes sumus Dei, cohæredes autem Christi, siquidem cum ipso patimur, ut una cum ipso glorificemur.” Eaque occasione multus est, ut fideles hortetur ad crucem & afflictiones evangelii causa sustinendas, inter alia, argumento à voluntate divina petito, quod per crucem nos ad salutem velit perducere: & ne id ipsis absonum videatur, Deum, quos diligit, tot dura in hoc mundo immittere, exemplum illis Christi proponit, cujus imagini ut sint conformes. Deus eos prædestinavit, & consequenter ad crucem ferendam vocavit: & in sequentibus porro ostendit, illas afflictiones non posse ipsos separare ab amore Dei, quo ipsos in Christo complectitur. Hinc & scriptura passim aliis inculcat, nos gloriæ Christi fore consortes, si & cum ipso crucem sustinuerimus, 2 Tim. ii. 11, 12. & præsertim. Heb. ii. 10. “Decebat ut ipse, propter quem sunt omnia, & per quem sunt omnia, multos filios in gloriam adducendo, principem salutis ipsorum per afflictiones consecraret.” Et hoc potissimum argumento fideles ad constantem persecutionum tolerantiam horatur, 1 Pet. iv. 12, 13. Heb. xii. 1, 2, 3. Hanc credo esse imaginem Christi, cui ut conformes simus Deum nos prædestinâsse ait apostolus, Rom. viii. 29. consentaneè iis quæ leguntur, Act. xiv. 22. 2 Tim. iii. 12. Page 246, ait autor sibi non occurrere, quod D. Jesus ipse sibi tribuat titulum sacerdotis, aut mentionem faciat ullius rei, quæ ad sacerdotium refertur. Munus Christi sacerdotale in apostolorum epistolis, & præcipue in epistola ad Hebræos nobis plenius esse descriptum, manifestum est; nec negari potest D. Jesum nusquam in evangeliis sibi sacerdotis titulum tribuere. Attamen negandum non videtur, quod sibi alicubi actionem sacerdotalem tribuat: diserte enim ait, se “animam suam λύτϱον ἀντὶ πολλῶν daturum,” Matth. xx. 28. Sanguinem suum vocat sanguinem novi “fœderis, qui pro multis effunditur, in remissionem peccatorum.” Matth. xxvi. 28. Negare non possumus hunc esse actum, qui ad sacerdotium respectum habet. Quare fortasse præstitisset id præteriisse, neque hominibus calumniandi occasionem quærentibus quicquam suppeditâsse, quod cum specie aliqua carpere posse videatur. Præter hæc, in tractatu hoc, quædam mihi occurrere videntur, quæ vix inter se conciliari possunt, nisi forte autor mentem suam plenius explicet. Pag. 13, ait, Dum Adam pulsus sit è paradiso terestri, omnisque ejus posteritas ea propter nascatur extra hunc deliciarum locum; inde naturaliter sequi debet, omnes homines morituros, & in æternum sub potentia mortis mansuros, atque ita penitus fore perditos; ex eo statu autem omnes per Christum liberatos docet, & quidem per legem fidei, quam postea fuse ostendit evangelio contineri. Hæc meo judicio vere dicuntur: verum non satis capio, quomodo cum his bene concilientur, quæ leguntur, pag. 250 & 266, quod qui justi sunt non indigent gratia, sed jus habent ad arborem vitæ. Illi enim quatenus Adami posteri, etiam sub potentia mortis æternum manere debent: quomodo ergo per suam justitiam jus possunt acquirere ad arborem vitæ, ita ut nulla gratia indigeant? cum antea docuerat, omnes ex illo statu necessariæ mortis liberatos, & quidem per legem fidei: unde sequi videtur, liberationem illam non posse fieri, nisi per legem fidei. Ergo non per perfectam legis operum obedientiam: nam è miseria liberare gratiæ est, quam lex operum excludit. Tum nec cum principio isto commode satis conciliare possum, quod autor dicit, qua ratione illi, qui de Christo nihil quicquam inaudiverunt, salvari possint. Si enim per Adamum necessariæ ac æternæ morti sunt obnoxii, è qua per solam legem fidei beneficio Christi liberentur, non videtur illis sufficere posse, quod lumine naturæ aliquas fidei illius, quod Deus sit misericors, scintillas habeant; sed per illam fidei legem, quam Deus salutis obtinendæ conditionem statuit, servari debere videntur. Video doctores systematicos hic multum offendi: atque ideo neque acquiescere illis quinque fructibus, quos D. Jesum adventu suo in mundum hominibus contulisse docet autor. Ego in doctorum systematicorum gratiam nihil in veritatis præjudicium docendum judico; & si quid illi præter rationem carpant, indignationem eorum spernendam censeo: sed considerandum, an non majus quid dici possit & oporteat, quod ipsis licet non satisfaciat, minus tamen forsan offendet, & meo judicio plenius rei veritatem exhibet. Video fructus quidem indicari prophetici ac regii muneris Christi, nullos vero sacerdotalis. Quid si ergo hic addatur muneris sacerdotalis fructus; quod mundus Deo sit reconciliatus, adeo ut nunc per Christum omnibus omnino hominibus remedium paratum sit è miseria sua in quam occasione peccati Adami, propriisque peccatis inciderunt, emergendi & salutem æternam consequendi? Hoc posito, puto explicari posse, qua ratione, salvis principiis ante positis, ii, qui de Christo nihil no fando quidem audiverunt, per Christum salvari possint. Nempe quod Deus illis qui (ut autor hic ait, pag. 292) instinctu luminis naturæ ad gratiam & misericordiam ejus confugiunt, delictorumque resipiscentiam agunt, eorumque veniam supplices petunt, gratiam per Christum impetratam applicet, ipsisque propter Christum remissionem peccatorum & justitiam imputet. Atque ita beneficium, quod ubi Christus prædicatus est, non nisi per directam in Christum fidem, obtineri potest, illi sine directa in Christum, ipsis non prædicatum, fide consequantur per gratiosam imputationem divinam; qui favores & beneficia sua latius extendere potest, quam promissorum verba ferunt. Ut ita omnium salus in sacrificio Christi propitiatorio fundetur. Puto hæc non multum à sententia hujus autoris differre, & iis, quæ evangelio continentur, consentanea esse. Ultimum caput per omnia amplector: omnia credenda & observanda ut salutem consequamur evangeliis & actiis contineri, credo; nullumque novum articulum in epistolis apostolicis superaddi; quæ alii novos fidei articulos urgent, non novi articuli sunt, sed aut magis dilucidæ articulorum jam antea traditorum explanationes; aut doctrinæ antea traditæ ab objectionibus præcipue Judæorum vindicationes, cujus illustre nobis documentum præbet epistola ad Romanos. Hæc sunt paucula illa, quæ mihi inter legendum occurrerunt, quæque tibi expendenda propono. Fortasse autoris mentem per omnia non plene assecutus sum. Verum exigua hæc sunt, & extra principalem autoris scopum, quem argumentis omni exceptione majoribus eum probâsse judico, adeo ut me sibi habeat penitus assentientem. Imprimis laudo, quod tam candide & ingenue, nec minus solide, demonstret recipiscentiæ & bonorum operum necessitatem, & per legem fidei non penitus esse abolitam legem operum, sed mitigatam. Ego illorum hominum theologiam non capio, qui fidem, quo nobis merita Christi applicamus, etiam ante ullum resipiscentiæ actum, nos coram Deo justificare docent. Hac enim persuasione imbuti, facile, mediis in sceleribus, homines incauti sibi justitiam & salutem adscribunt, modo in se fiduciam minime vacillantem deprehendant. Et doctores improvidi hanc temerariam confidentiam alunt, dum hominibus impiis & sceleratis, modo circa vitæ finem fiduciam in Christi meritis firmam profiteantur, salutem sine ulla hæsitatione addicere non verentur: Hujus generis exemplum in nostra civitate recens, quod oblivione obliterari non debet, commemorabo. Præterita æstate ancilla quædam, ut heri sui ædes spoliare posset, noctu eas incendit. Mortis damnata fidem suam in Christi meritis verbis emphaticis, coram ministro verbi divini, qui morituræ adfuit, prolixe professa est: Ille sceleratæ non tantum indubiam salutis spem fecit, sed & postridie pro concione illius fidem prolixe populo commendavit, adeo quidem, ut dicere non veritus sit, se, sola ignominia excepta, talem sibi vitæ exitum optare; multis applaudentibus, aliis vero (non Remonstrantibus modo, sed & contra-Remonstrantibus) non sine indignatione talem Encomiasten cum suo encomio reprehendentibus. Verum tandem manum de tabula. Tu pro solita tua benevolentia prolixitati meæ ignosces. Vale, vir amplissime, mihique semper venerande.

Amstelod.

26 Martii,

Tui amantissimus,

P. à Limborch.

John Locke

4 Mar. 1696-7

Oates

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

Inter negotia publica & privatam valetudinem tam parum mihi conceditur otii literarii, ut sperem diuturnum meum silentium, non ex imminuta omnino in te voluntate aut amicitia ortum, tibi, quæ tua est in amicos lenitas, excusatum fore. An tu mihi egove tibi novissime literas dederim, quærere nolo. Satis egomet mihi culpandus videor, quod tam diu careo fractu suavissimæ tuæ consuetudinis, & magnus mihi dolendusque in curriculo vitæ meæ hiatus apparet, qui destitutus literarum inter nos commercio, vacuus ea voluptate fuit, quæ maxima cum sit, ex benevolentia solum mutuisque amicorum sermonibus percipitur. Præteritam hyemem cura infirmæ sanitatis rure totam absumpsit. Nisi quod negotia nonnulla importuna subinde irrepentia totum, id, quicquid erat temporis, quod amicis destinaveram invito abriperent. Adeo ut non in tuo solum, sed & multorum mihi amicissimorum ære alieno sim, nec quomodo me redimam scio, si taciturnitas mea nomine negligentiæ suspecta sit. Tu, scio, humanior es quam ut eo me condemnari velis crimine. Quanquam enim tardior aliquando mihi in respondendo calamus, animus tamen nunquam deficit, & si quando hac utor libertate, erga eos solum utor, quibuscum non solummodo vitam civilem, sed intimam solidamque amicitiam mihi colendam propono, quibus multum me scio debere, & quibus insuper cupio me plurimum debere. Ego nuper Londinum profectus post octidui incommodam & anhelosam moram præpropero reditu huc me recipere coactus sum. Hæc pulmonum imbecillitas me brevi spero restituet pristino otio. Valetudinario seni quid restat præter vota pro patria? Naturæ & imbecillitati cedendum est. Hoc mihi si concedatur, libri & literæ, amicorumque interrupta vel impedita commercia, optima illa senectutis oblectamenta, redibunt. Quid enim in republica literaria agatur, civili implicato vix scire vacat. Apud nos sane disceptationibus & rixis maximam partem impenditur scripturientium atramentum. Si disputantium fervor solo veritatis amore accenderetur, laudanda esset litigantium industria & contentio; sed non ita semper tractantur argumenta, ut ea ad veritatem stabiliendam elucidandamve quæsita, credere possis. In mea de Intellectu Humano dissertatione jam tandem aliquid repertum est non ita sanum, idque à viris haud infimi subsellii reprehensum. Si quid ego eorum argumentis edoctus reprehensione dignum reperirem, gratus agnoscerem, & haud invitus corrigerem. Id cum non sit, rationem mihi reddendam censeo, cur non mutaverim sententiam, cum nihil reperiam in ea à veritate alienum. Hæc mea defensio aliquam partem præteritæ hyemis, prout tulit valetudo, occupatam habuit. Sed quid ego te moror nostris nugis? Quid tu illic, vosque alii, studiis utilioribus intenti agatis, aveo scire. Næ ego iniquus officiorum exactor, si à te festinatas postulem literas in scribendo ipse tantus cessator. Verum tu scio id facies ne nimis serio mihi irasci videaris. Vale, vir optime, &, ut facis, me ama,

Oates, 4 Mar.

1696-7.

Tui studiosissimum,

J Locke.

Philippus à Limborch

8 Oct. 1697

Amstelod.

Joanni Locke

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

MENSE Martio scripsi tibi epistolam satis prolixam. Hâc æstate cum viris aliquot primariis sermonem de variis habui: inter alia incidit sermo de tractatu, de quo, in superioribus meis, judicium meum scripsi. Omnes eum summopere laudabant. Unus vero titulum sibi non satis placere affirmabat; tanquam nimis exilem pro dignitate materiæ, quæ toto libro tractatur. Autoris hujus longe diversum aiebat fuisse institutum à plerorumque scriptorum consuetudine, qui exigui pretii libris titulos magnificos præfigere solent: hunc autem libro magnifico exilem præfixisse titulum. Oportuisse titulum aliquatenus respondisse dignitati operis, ut & ille posset lectores allicere. Alius vir (idem qui tibi antehac Sladum nostrum commendatum esse voluit, quod tibi soli dictum velim) se bis tractatum illum perlegisse aiebat: laudabat illum summopere, autoremque fidei christianæ objectum, quod præcipuum totius libri argumentum est, solidissime probâsse affirmabat; unum desiderabat; nim. quod autor am statim ab initio vulgarem de peccato originis sententiam rejecerit ac refutaverit, potuisse autorem, intacta illa sententia, nihilominus præcipuum tractatus sui argumentum adstruere: nunc multos, quorum mentibus alte sententia illa incedit, lecto libri initio, antequam ad principale ejus argumentum accedant offendi, atque ita præjudicium contra autorem concipere, ut sequentia non ea animi serenitate quæ requiritur, legant, sicque alieniores reddi: cum potius ipsorum benevolentia captanda fuisset, ut judicio integro expendant sententiam, veram quidem, sed communi theologorum appetitui minus consentaneam; qui omnes ferme fidei christianæ aliquid de suo admixtum cupiunt; quasi ea suo cœtui peculiaris sit, & alii ab illa excludantur. Qui error ut ipsorum animis eruatur, alliciendi potius sunt, quam assertione alicujus dogmatis sibi minus probati alienandi. Candide tibi scribo quid viri hi desideraverint. Hac occasione, ut fieri solet, sermo ad alia deflexit, & quidem quibus argumentis solidissime unitas Dei probetur. Idem ille vir primarius affirmabat, se argumenta quædam irrefragabilia requirere, quibus probetur ens æternum, seu per se existens, seu undiquaque perfectum, esse tantum unum. Desiderabat quædam in argumentis Hugonis Grotii, libro primo de Veritate Religionis Christianæ. Addebat, audivisse se tractatum tuum de Intellectu Humano in linguam Gallicam verti; multum se tribuere judicio tuo, ac summopere versionem illam desiderare. Quæsivit ex me, num in illo tractatu etiam unitatem entis à se existentis adstruxisses? Ego me ignorare respondi, qui tractatum, utpote lingua mihi ignota conscriptum, nunquam legerim. Voluit itaque tibi serio per me commendari, ut si in tractatu quo quæstionem hanc intactam reliqueris, illius adstructione tractatum augere velis, unitatemque entis independentis solide adstruere. Manifestum videtur ens independens, quod omnem in se complectitur perfectionem, unicum tantum esse: ille tamen hoc ita probari cupiebat, ut argumentum nulla parte laboraret. Ante triduum aurem mihi vellicari jussit, & à me quæri, an jam ad te scripsissem, & aliquod à te responsum accepissem. Non credideram ipsum id tam enixe voluisse; sed quia video rem hanc ipsi cordi esse, scriptionem meam ulterius differendam minime statui. Rogo, si id negotia tua permittant ut mihi responsum scribas, quod ipsi prælegere possim, ita tamen temperara tua scriptione, ut minime subolere ipsi possit, me tibi ipsum aliquatenus indicâsse; posses ita respondere, quasi ego tibi scripserim, viros quosdam eruditos de hac materia disserentes, ex ipsis aliquem, qui te magni æstimat, de ea tuum voluisse audire judicium, & ut quæstionem hanc in tuo de Intellectu Humano tractatu expenderes desiderâsse. Vides quam aperte tecum agam, & quid ab amicitia tua expectare ausim. Hagam Comitis nuper excurri; salutavi honoratissimum Comitem Pembrokiensem, & per integram horam varios cum ipso, etiam de rebus theologicis, sermones habui. Virum in tam excelsa dignitate constitutum tantum in rebus sacris studium posuisse summopere miror. Ita sermonibus ejus afficiebar, ut vix per semihoram ipsi adfuisse mihi visus sim, cum tamen ab eo digressus integram horam esse elapsam deprehenderim. Ego viro illi excellentissimo longævam vitam precor, ut regni Anglicani negotia ipsius auspiciis feliciter administrentur: tibi vero valetudinem prosperam, ut cogitata tua orbi erudito communicare possis. Vale, amplissime vir, & salveat plurimum Domina Masham. Salutant te uxor mea & filia.

Amstelod.

8 Oct.

Tui amantissimus,

P. à Limborch

John Locke

29 Oct. 1697

Londres

Joanni Locke

LETTRE DE MR. LOCKE À MR. LIMBORCH.

Monsieur,

SI mon nom est venu à la connoissance de ces habiles gens avec qui vous entretenez quelquefois, & s’ils daignent parler de mes écrits dans les conversations que vous avez avec eux, c’est une faveur dont je vous suis entierement redevable. La bonne opinion que vous avez d’une personne que vous voulez bien honorer de votre amitié les a prévenüe en ma faveur. Je souhaiterois que mon Essai concernant l’Entendement fut écrit dans une langue que ces excellens hommes pûssent entendre, car par le jugement éxact & sincere qu’ils porteroient de mon ouvrage, je pourrois compter surement sur ce qu’il y a de vrai ou de faux, & sur qu’il peut y avoir de tolerable. Il y a sept ans que ce livre a été publié. La premiere & la seconde édition ont eû le bonheur d’être generalement bien réçuës: mais la dernier n’a pas eû le même advantage. Après un silence de cinq ou six années on commence d’y découvrir je ne sçai quelles fautes dont on ne s’étoit point apperçu auparavant; & ce qu’il y a de singulier, on prétend trouver matiere à des controverses de religion dans cet ouvrage, ou je n’ai eû dessein de traiter que des questions de pure spéculation philosophique. J’avois resolu de faire quelques additions, dont j’ai déja composé quelques-unes qui sont assez amples, & qui auroient pû paroître en leur place dans la quatrième édition que le libraire se dispose à faire. Et j’aurois volontiers satisfait à votre desir, ou au desir d’aucun de vos amis en y inferant les preuves de l’unité de Dieu qui se presentent à mon esprit. Car je suis enclin à croire que l’unité de Dieu peut être aussi évidemment démontrée que son existence; & qu’elle peut être établie sur des preuves qui ne laisseront aucun sujet d’en douter. Mais j’aime la paix, & il y a des gens dans le monde qui aiment si fort les criailleries & les vaines contestations, que je doute si je dois leur fournir de nouveaux sujets de dispute.

Les remarques que vous me dites que d’habiles gens on fait sur le “Reasonableness of Christianity, &c.” sont sans doute fort justes, & il est vrai que plusieurs lecteurs ont été choquez de certaines pensées qu’on voit au commencement de ce livre, lesquelles ne s’accordent pas tout-a-fait avec des doctrines communément reçuës. Mais sur cela je suis obligé de renvoyer ces messieurs aux deux défenses que l’auteur a fait de son ouvrage. Car ayant publié ce petit livre, comme il le dit lui-même, principalement afin de convaincre ceux qui doutent de la religion chrêtienne, il semble qu’il a été conduit à traiter ces matieres malgré lui; car pour rendre son livre utile aux déïstes, il ne pouvoit point se taire entierement sur ces articles, auxquels ils s’aheurtent des qu’ils veulent entrer dans l’éxamen de la religion chrêtienne. Je suis,

Londres, 29 Oct.

Monsieur,

Vôtre très-humble

& très-obéïssant serviteur,

J. Locke.

John Locke

Vir amplissime,

Ne mireris quod lingua Gallica responsum à me sit acceptissimis tuis Latinis 8. hujus mensis mihi scriptis, liceat mihi me tibi excusare & negotiorum multitudine, quæ otium negat, & linguæ Latinæ dissuetudine, quæ expedite scribere prohibet. Hanc meam epistolam aliis vel prælegendam vel monstrandam ex tuis colligo: virorum præcellentium censuræ styli negligentia me objicere minime decorum judicavi. Quicquid enim tua vel humanitas vel amicitia in me excusare solet, aliis vel nauseam vel certe non condonandam molestiam creare potest. Scripsi igitur quod dicendum habui lingua vernacula festinatim, Galloque in suam linguam vertendam tradidi. Ex quo exorta est inter episcopum Wigorniensem (qui me quæsita causa aggressus est) & me disputatio: gens theologorum togata in librum meum mire excitatur, laudataque hactenus dissertatio illa tota jam scatet erroribus (vel saltem continui latentia errorum vel scepseos fundamenta) pia doctorum virorum cura nunc demum detegendis. Ad unitatem Dei quod attinet, Grotii, fateor, in loco à te citato argumenta non abunde satisfaciunt. Putasne tamen quempiam, qui Deum agnoscit, posse dubitare numen illud esse unicum? Ego sane nunquam dubitavi; etiamsi, fateor, mihi ex hac occasione cogitandi videtur altius aliquanto elevandam esse mentem, & à communi philosophandi ratione segregandam, si quis id philosophice, vel, si ita dicam, physice probare velit; sed hoc tibi soli dictum sit. Uxorem tuam dilectissimam liberosque officiosissime saluto.

Philippus à Limborch

Joanni Locke

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

GRATISSIMAS tuas 29 Octobris scriptas recte accepi, viroque magnifico, cujus potissimum rogatu ad te scripsi, prælegi. Res ipsa, de qua quæritur, à nemine sano in dubium vocari posse videtur; ipsa enim deitatis notio unitatem involvit, nec permittit, ut illa pluribus communis credi possit. Quare, me judice, nemo, qui attente secum considerat, quid voce Dei intelligamus, pluritatem Deorum asserere potest. Quia tamen eam ab ethnicis asseri videmus, and contra eos scripturæ autoritate pugnari non potest, rationibus è natura petitis convincendi sunt. Quare ejusmodi requirit argumenta vir magnificus, quibus solide demonstretur ens independens & perfectum unicum tantum esse posse. Ex solide adstructa essentiæ divinæ unitate porro facili negotio omnia attributa divina, nostrumque tam erga Deum, quam proximum officium deduci posse certissimus est. Cartesium dicit unitatem illam non probâsse, sed præsuppo suisse. Ipse sibi demonstrationem scripsit, sed eam aiebat subtiliorem esse. Et quia multum tuo tribuit judicio, tua argumenta avidissime videre desiderat. Prælegi illi epistolam tuam: gaudebat, quod in ea affirmes te id præstare posse: tanto enixius jam argumenta tua desiderat. Dolebat tibi litem temere motam: quoniam autem, ne fortasse novis litibus & suspicionibus præter tuam intentionem vel minimam præbeas ansam, publico scripto argumenta tua proferre gravaris, rogat ut ea privatim ad me scribas, sub promisso silentii: ille hæc evulgare minime intendit, sed ad propriam suam instructionem, & in veritate confirmationem requirit. Duobus præter illum viris, intima mihi amicitia conjunctis, qui priori nostræ conversationi interfuerunt, D. de Hartoge Fisci Hollandici advocato, & D. advocato Van den Ende, & præter illos, nulli omnino mortalium ea communicabuntur, nisi fortasse & D. Clerico ea prælegi permittas, quod tui arbitrii est, ipso enim ignaro hæc omnia ad te scribo. Rem facturus es & viro magnifico maximopere gratam: & quod fidis solummodo amicis, & quidem paucis adeo, concreditur, cujusque nullum à me cuiquam apographum dabitur, id dispalescere non potest. Quinimo, ut tanto honestius apographum denegare queam, suaserim ut id in epistola tua enixe à me stipuleris. Nolim ego te genti togatæ, tanquam scepseos fundamenta jacientem, magis suspectum fieri: plerosque illorum alieno judicio, tanquam nervis alienis mobile lignum, præcipites in laudem ac vituperium immerentium rapi certus sum. Cum tuas legerem, lepida mihi incidit Thomæ Mori in sua Utopia fabella. Refert is, cum Raphael Hythlodæus, coram Cardinale Archiepiscopo Cantuariensi doctissime de republica disseruisset, legis quendam peritum commoto capite, & labiis distortis quicquid dixerat improbâsse; ac statim omnes, qui aderant, pedibus in jurisperiti illius ivisse sententiam. Cum vero Cardinalis Hythlodæi sententiam probabat, mox quæ ipso narrante contempserant omnes, eadem neminem non certatim laudibus esse prosecutum. Simile quid tractatui tuo evenit, qui antea integro sexennio communi applauso acceptus fuit, nunc insurgente contra te magni nominis episcopo totus erroribus scatet & latentia continet scepseos fundamenta. Ita solet theologorum vulgus non ex suo sed alieno sapere cerebro. Verum talium judicio epistola tua nequam exponetur. Quod vero linguæ Latinæ dissuetudinem prætexis, quæ expedite scribere prohibet, plane me in ruborem dedit. Quale itaque tuum de me judicium esse censebo, cujus stylus cum tuo comparatus plane sordet? Epistolæ tuæ omnes, etiam veloci calamo scriptæ, sunt non tantum puræ & tersæ, sed & vividæ ac elegantes: quæ si tibi displiceant, quid de meis judices non difficile mihi est colligere. Nihilominus amicitia tua fretus, confidenter quicquid in calamum venit tibi scribo, benignitatis tuæ, quæ defectus meos boni consulere novit, plane securus: in posterum vero, si ea excusatione uti pergas, timidiorem me in scribendo facies. Excusationem itaque hanc minime admitti posse facile vides. Si vero negotia tua tardius nobis concedant responsum, nolim nimia festinatione graviora negligas, sed tempus ad scribendum eligas minus occupatum. Quicquid & quandocunque scripseris, gratissimum erit: interim si cito des, his te dedisse gratus agnoscam. Dedit mihi hebdomade proxime elapsa D. Clericus tuum, de Educatione liberorum, tractatum, in linguam Belgicam versum; pro quo dono magnifico summas tibi ago gratias. Uxor & filia eum attente legunt: ego, ubi illæ satiatæ fuerint, integrum quod & ipsis commendo, à capite ad calcem perlegam. Salutari te quam officiosissime jussit vir magnificus. Vale, vir amplissime.

Tui amantissimum,

P. à Limborch.

John Locke

11 Martii, 1698

Amstelod.

Joanni Locke

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

HAC occasione mitto tibi quædam ex Paulo Servita excerpta, quæ Historiæ Inquisitionis inseri possunt. Ego autores, quos nunc evolvo, majore cum applicatione ad materiam inquisitionis lego, quam antehac, & si quid, quod ad majorem illius illustrationem facere possit, occurrat, illud excerpere soleo, & historiam meam locupletiorem reddere. Tu, si velis, aliis à me antehac ad te missis & hæc adjungere poteris. Quæ mihi ante triennium ex itinerario Du Mont suppeditâsti, ea quanto magis considero, tanto magis historiæ meæ inserenda judico. Licet enim leges pontificiæ secretum confessionis revelari vetent, multa tamen in favorem fidei funt legibus prohibita; quas sancivisse videntur eum tantum in finem, ut simpliciores iis irretiti facilius caperentur. Itaque non tantum inquisitionis leges, sed præcipue gesta acta illius, quæ cum legibus sæpissime adversa fronte pugnant, consideranda censeo. Unum hoc expendi meretur, quod du Mont ait, confessarios Melitenses obligatos esse inquisitoribus revelare quicquid ipsis in secreta confessione negotium fidei spectans confitentur homines. Secretas illas confessiones inquisitoribus revelari nullus dubito; legem de ea revelanda extare credere vix possum: fortasse confessariis hoc viva voce mandatur, licet nulla hujusmodi lex extet. Quibus accedit, quod sit homo reformatus, & peregrinus, qui inter peregrinandum hoc ex quorundum incolarum sermonibus hausit; quorum relationes quandoque valde esse incertas, imo falsas, ex itinerariis, quibus Belgium describitur, sæpius ipse deprehendi. Quare considerandum, quomodo ejusmodi cavillationes pontificiorum solide retundi possint. Quicquid vero hujus sit, digna mihi hæc narratio videtur, quæ historiæ meæ inseratur, si scriptoris alicujus pontificiis non suspecti autoritate confirmari posset. Si quæ talia tibi inter legendum plura occurrunt, rogo ut & mihi ea impertiri velis.

Scripsi, ante duos aut tres menses, virum quendam eximium argumenta tua de unitate divina videndi desiderio teneri. Ego aperte & rotunde tecum agere volui, & quod mihi in mandatis datum erat celare non potui. Nolui ego graviora tua negotia interturbare, aut aliquid tibi molestiæ creare. Scio, si ab animo ac negotiis tuis impetrare possis, argumenta tua viro magnifico fore gratissima, maximi enim & acumen & judicium tuum facit. Si vero negotia tua tempus attentæ ejusmodi meditationi, & diffusiori paulum scriptioni requisitum, tibi non concedant, aut aliquam inde tibi forte creandam molestiam verearis (de quo tamen te securum esse jubeo) ego à te monitus viro magnifico, prout potero, te excusatum reddam: velim tamen eo in casu excusationis rationes à te mihi suppeditari; malim autem, ut, si sine incommodo, aut incommodi metu possis, te viro magnifico gratiam hanc facere, ut materiam hanc, quam jamdiu animo volvit, tua opera explanatiorem habeat. Vale, vir amplissime.

9 Tui amantissimus,

Amstelod.

11 Martii, 16)(98

3 P. à Limborch.

John Locke

Apr. 1698

Amstelod.

Joanni Locke

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

DOCTISSIMAS tuas literas 21 Februarii datas Martii 21 die recte accepi. Paucis id eadem die literis per filium meum tibi tradendis significavi. Attente tuas cum D. Clerico relegi. Ita judicamus argumentis invictis te unitatem essentiæ divinæ adstruxisse, nihilque in argumentatione tua desiderari. Verum nondum viro magnifico eas ostendendas censuimus, nisi sententia tua proprius explorata. Est enim aliquid quod mihi imputandum credo, qui viri magnifici mentem non plene tibi aperuerim. Quantum ex ipsius sermonibus percepi, agnoscit ille quidem evidens satis esse, unum tantum hujus universi esse rectorem: sed argumentum desiderat, quo probetur ens, cujus existentia est necessaria, tantum posse esse unum; & quidem ut id argumentum à necessitate existentiæ desumatur, & à priori (ut in scholis loquuntur) non à posteriori concludat, hoc est, ex natura necessariæ existentiæ probetur eam pluribus non posse esse communem. Narrabat enim, se cum aliis de materia hac disserentem, dixisse, quod si tale ens existat, præter Deum unicum à quo nos dependemus; illud ens minime nos spectare, quia ab eo non dependemus; atque hoc nobis sufficere, ut Deum unum toto corde amemus & colamus. Sed tum disquirendum, an tale ens necessario existens possit esse, præter Deum necessario existentem, à quo nos dependemus. Si quid itaque ut viri magnifici curiositati plene satisfiat addendum putes, illud expectabo: interim literas tuas solicite asservabo, ac nulli ostendam. Vale, vir amplissime, & si quid in toto hoc negotio à me per imprudentiam forte peccatum sit, benignus ignosce.

1 Tui amantissimus,

Amstelod. Kal.

Apr. 16)(98

19 P. à Limborch.

John Locke

2 Avril, 1698

Oates

Joanni Locke

LETTRE DE MR. LOCKE À MR. LIMBORCH.

Monsieur,

LA question que vous m’avez proposée, vient de la part d’une personne d’un genie si vaste, & d’un si profonde capacité, que je suis confus de l’honneur qu’il me fait de deferer si fort à mon jugement dans une occasion, où il lui seroit plus avantageux & plus sure de s’en rapporter à lui-même. Je ne sçai quelle opinion vous avez pû lui donner de moi, séduit par l’amitié que vous me portez; mais une chose dont je suis fort assûré, c’est que, si je ne consultois que ma propre reputation, j’eviterois d’exposer mes foibles pensées devant une personne d’un si grand jugement, & que je ne me hazarderois pas à regarder cet article comme une question à prouyer: bien des gens étant peut être d’avis qu’il vaut mieux le recevoir en qualité de maxime, parce que, selon eux, il est mieux établi sur les fondemens ordinaires que si l’on tâchoit de l’expliquer par des spéculations & des raisonnemens auxquels tout le monde n’est par accoutumé. Mais je sçais que la personne, par qui je crois que cette question vous a été proposée, a l’esprit autrement tourné. Sa candeur & sa probité égalent sa science & ses autres grandes qualitez. S’il ne trouve pas mes raisons assez claires ou assez convainçantes, il ne sera pour cela porté à condamner aussitôt mon intention, ni à mal juger de moi sous prétexte que mes preuves ne sont pas aussi bonnes qu’il l’auroit souhaité. Enfin, moins il trouvera de satisfaction des mes raisonnemens, plus il sera obligé de me pardonner, parce que, quelque convaincu que je sois de ma foiblesse, je n’ai pas laisse d’obéïr à ses ordres. J’écris donc simplement parce que vous le voulez l’un & l’autre; & je veux bien, Monsieur, que vous fassiez voir s’il vous plâit ma lettre à cette excellent homme, & aux autres personnes, qui se trouverent dans vôtre conference. Mais c’est aux conditions suivantes: La premiere, que ces Messieurs me promettront de m’apprendre librement & sincerement leur pensées sur ce qui je dis; la seconde, que vous ne donnerez aucune copie de ce que je vous écris à qui que ce soit, mais que vous me promettrez de jetter cette lettre au feu quand je vous prierai de la faire. A quoi je serois bien aise que vous eussiez la bonté d’ajouter une troisième condition, c’est, que ces Messieurs me feront l’honneur de me communiquer les raisons sur lesquelles ils établissent eux-mêmes l’unité de Dieu.

La question dont vous me parlez, se réduit à ceci, “Comment l’unité de Dieu peut être prouvée?” ou en d’autres termes, “Comment on peut prouver qu’il n’y a qu’un Dieu.”

Pour resoudre cette question il est nécessaire de sçavoir, avant que de venir aux preuves de l’unité de Dieu, ce qu’on entend par le mot de Dieu. L’idée ordinaire, & à ce que je crois, la véritable idée qu’ont de Dieu, ceux qui reconnoissent son existence, c’est, qu’il est “un Etre infini, éternel, incorporel & tout parfait.” Or cette idée une fois reconnüe, il me semble fort aisé d’en déduire l’unité de Dieu. En effet un être qui est tout parfait, ou pour ainsi dire, parfaitement parfait, ne peut être qu’unique, parce qu’un être tout parfait ne sçauroit manquer d’aucun des attributs, perfections, ou dégrez des perfections, qu’il lui importe plus de posséder, que d’en être privé. Car autrement il s’en faudroit d’autant qu’il ne fut entierement parfait. Par éxemple, avoir du pouvoir est une plus grande perfection, que de n’en avoir point; avoir plus de pouvoir est une plus grande perfection, que d’en avoir moins; & avoir tout pouvoir (ce qui est être tout puissant) c’est une plus grande perfection que de ne l’avoir pas tout. Cela posé; deux êtres tout puissans sont incompatibles; parce qu’on est obligé de supposer que l’un doit vouloir necessairement ce que l’autre veut; & en ce cas-là, l’un des deux, dont la volonté est necessairement déterminée par la volonté de l’autre, n’est pas libre, & n’a pas, par conséquent, cette perfectionlà: car il est mieux d’être libre, que d’être soumis à la détermination de la volonté d’un autre. Que s’ils ne sont pas tous deux réduits à la necessité de vouloir toûjours la même chose, alors l’un peut vouloir faire ce que l’autre ne voudroit pas qui fut fait, auquel cas la volonté de l’un prévaudra sur la volonté de l’autre, & ain celui des deux, dont la puissance ne sauroit seconder la volonté, n’est pas tout-puissant; car il ne peut pas faire autant que l’autre. Donc l’un des deux n’est pas tout-puissant. Donc il n’y a, ni ne sauroit y avoir deux tout-puissans, ni par conséquent deux Dieux.

Par la même idée de perfection nous venons à connoître, que Dieu est omniscient. Or dans la supposition de deux êtres distincts, qui ont un pouvoir & une volonté distincte, c’est une imperfection de ne pouvoir pas cacher ces pensées à l’autre. Mais si l’un des deux cache ses pensées à l’autre, cet autre n’est pas omniscient, car non seulement il ne connoit pas tout ce qui peut être connu, mais il ne connoit pas même ce qu’un autre connoit.

On peut dire la même chose de la toute-presence de Dieu: il vaut mieux qu’il soit par tout dans l’étenduë infinie de l’espace, que d’être exclus de quelque partie de cet espace, car s’il est exclu de quelque endroit, il ne peut pas y operer, ni savoir ce qu’on y fait, & par conséquent il n’est ni tout-puissant ni omniscient.

Que si pour anéantir les raisonnemens que je viens de faire, on dit que les deux Dieux qu’on suppose; ou les deux cent mille (car par la même raison qu’il peut y en avoir deux il y en peut avoir deux millions, parce qu’on n’a plus aucun moyen d’en limiter le nombre) si l’on oppose, dis-je, que plusieurs Dieux ont une parfaite toute-puissance qui soit éxactement la même, qu’ils ont aussi la même connoissance, la même volonté, & qu’ils existent également dans le même lieu, c’est seulement multiplier le même être, mais dans le fonds & dans la verité de la chose on ne fait que réduire une pluralité supposée à une véritable unité. Car de supposer deux êtres intelligens, qui connoissent, veulent & font incessamment la même chose, & qui n’ont pas une existence separée, c’est supposer en paroles une pluralité, mais poser effectivement une simple unité. Car être inséparablement uni par l’entendement, par la volonté, par l’action, & par le lieu; c’est être autant uni qu’un être intelligent peut-être uni à lui-même, & par conséquent, supposer que là, où il y a une telle union, il peut y avoir deux êtres, c’est supposer une division sans division, & une chose divisée d’avec elle-même.

Je me suis hazardé à vous écrire mes réflexions sur ce sujet, comme elles se sont presentées à mon esprit, sans les ranger dans un certain ordre qui pourroit servir peut-être à les mettre dans un plus grand jour, si on leur donnoit un peu plus d’étenduë. Mais ceci doit paroître devant des personnes d’une si grand pénétration, que ce seroit les amuser inutilement que développer davantage mes pénsées. Telles qu’elles sont je vous prie de m’en écrire votre opinion & celle de ces Messieurs, afin que celon le jugement que vous en ferez, je puisse, pour ma propre satisfaction, les éxaminer de nouveau, & leur donner plus de force (ce que ma mauvaise santé & le peu de loisir qui me reste, ne me permettent pas de faire presentement) ou bien les abandonner tout-à-fait comme ne pouvant être d’aucun usage. Je suis,

Oates, 2 Avril,

Monsieur,

Vôtre très-humble

& très-obéïssant serviteur,

John Locke.

Philippus à Limborch

16 Maii. 1698

Amstelod.

Joanni Locke

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

LITERAS tuas postremas recte mihi fuisse traditas jam intellexeris. Statim eas viro magnifico prælegi: verum quia tunc occupatior erat, aliud designavit tempus magis opportunum prolixiori colloquio, quod materiæ gravitas mereri videtur. Paucis itaque abhinc diebus me denuo ad se vocavit; iterumque epistolam tuam legimus. Probat argumenta tua, supposita illa, quam adhibes, Dei definitione; ens enim undiquaque perfectum, seu, quod eodem redit, omnes in se complectens perfectiones, non nisi unum esse posse manifestum est. Verum ille quærit argumentum, non ex definitione Dei desumptum, sed ex ipsa ratione naturali, & per quod deducamur in definitionem Dei. Hac nempe methodo instituit demonstrationem suam. I. Datur ens æternum, independens, necessitate naturæ suæ existens, & sibi ipsi sufficiens. II. Ens tale est tantum unum, & plura istiusmodi entia esse nequeunt. III. Illud ens, quia est unicum, omnes in se complectitur perfectiones; atque hoc ens est Deus. Primam propositionem ait vir magnificus te in tractatu tuo de intellectu Humano egregie abstruxisse, iisdem plane argumentis, quibus ipse in demonstratione sua usus est, adeo ut suas cogitationes in argumentatione tua expressas viderit. Tanto enixius secundam propositionem à te probatam videre desiderat: qua solide probata, tertia nullo negotio ex duabus prioribus deduci potest. Secundam ait, omnes theologos ac philosophos, quin & ipsum Cartesium, non probare, sed præsupponere. Non dubito, quin mihi omnem suam argumentationem communicaturus sit; credo autem non id facturum, antequam tua argumenta viderit; ut tuas cogitationes, quas ipse es meditatus cum suis conferre possit. Verum hic ambigere quis possit, an non propositionum harum ordo mutari, & quæ nunc secunda est, tertia, & quæ nunc tertia est, secunda esse debeat: hoc est, an non, quando probatum est, dari ens æternum, independens, sibi ipsi sufficiens, exinde possit porro probari, illud in se omnes complecti perfectiones; quia fieri nequit, ut enti æterno, independenti, sibique sufficienti ulla perfectio desit: atque ita probato, ens illud omnes in se complecti perfectiones, porro inferatur illud ens tantum esse unum. Verum huic methodo hæc objicitur difficultas, quod deprehendamus esse duas naturas tota essentia diversas (loquor terminis eorum, qui hanc movent difficultatem) cogitationem, & extensionem: supposito dari cogitationem æternam, & independentem, à qua ego dependeo, statuere-quis possit etiam esse extensionem seu materiam æternam sibi ipsi sufficientem, & à cogitatione æterna minime dependentem? sic statuerentur duo entia æterna: & tamen ex positione materiæ æternæ & independentis minime sequeretur, eam in se complecti omnes perfectiones. Quare primo probandum videtur, ens æternum & independens esse tantum unum, antequam omnes in se complecti perfectiones probari possit.

Quod si secunda propositio, ens independens esse tantum unum, non possit probari, nihil religioni, seu necessitati ens illud unice colendi, decedere videtur: quia ego totus ab illo uno ente, quod me produxit, dependeo: illi ergo soli sum obligatus, illud ex toto corde, tota anima diligere, illiusque præceptis per omnia obedire debeo. Si præter illud ens aliud forte existat, quia ab eo non dependeo, illud neutiquam me spectat, neque ego ullam ad id relationem habeo, neque id ullam in me operationem exserere potest. Imo neutrum horum entium de altero ullam notitiam habere, aut ullam in alterum operationem edere posset. Quoniam enim sibi ipsi est sufficiens, ergo nec per alterius positionem, aut remotionem, ullam acquirere potest majorem perfectionem, aut de sua perfectione quicquam amittere; alias sibi non esset sufficiens. Licet itaque veritatis scrutatori summopere gratum sit, evidenter demonstrare posse, ens independens esse tantum unum: si tamen forte contingat, illud evidenter demonstrari non posse, nihil tamen religionis necessitati & perfectioni propterea decessurum videtur, quoniam ens, à quo ego dependeo, est tantum unum. Hæc fuit sermonum viri magnifici summa; quantum ego mentem ejus percepi.

Ego argumentationis tuæ filum, in tractatu tuo de Intellectu Humano, non legi. Probâsse te, ens aliquod esse à quo dependes, illudque ens esse æternum & sibi ipsi sufficiens, nullus dubito. Argumentum, quo id probatur, evidens est & clarum. Verum, an ibidem probaveris, te ab uno ente tantum dependere, neque fieri posse ut à pluribus dependeas, ignoro. Argumentatio viri magnifici quidem infert, me ab ente æterno dependere: sed nondum vidi ab ipso probatum ab uno tantum ente me dependere: quod tamen spectat primam propositionem. Nam in secunda ponitur, præter illud ens æternum à quo ego dependeo, aliud nullum esse ens æternum. Itaque similiter hic præsupponi videtur, me ab uno tantum ente dependere, saltem id nondum distincte probatum audivi: quod tamen primo probandum videtur, antequam ad probationem propositionis secundæ procedatur. Tum & dispiciendum, an quidem ratio permittat, supponi materiam æternam ac sibi sufficientem; si enim ens sibi sufficiens & æternum, necessario sit omni modo perfectum; sequitur, materiam, quæ iners est substantia, omni motu ac vita destituta, non posse concipi æternam ac sibi sufficientem.

Voluit vir magnificus, ut tibi distinctius, qualem desideret probationem, præscriberem: verbis suis te quam officiosissime salutari jussit; pro suscepto in sui gratiam labore gratias agit: dolet valetudinem tuam afflictam; & si ea minus permittat subtilioribus indulgere cogitationibus, minime cupit ut te fatiges meditationibus, tibi ob valetudinem afflictiorem molestis, aut valetudini noxiis. Precatur interim tibi valetudinem firmam ac vegetam; & si ea permittat, ut de propositionis secundæ, prout nunc à me ex mente illius proposita est, judicium tuum scribas, rem facies ipsi gratissimam. Tu ipse judicabis de illius methodo, & quid rescribendum sit. Hoc unum addo, ipsum, lecta tua epistola, nullum illius apographum petiisse; sed conditionibus, quas stipularis, acquievisse: & si petiisset, ego modeste negâssem; verum ea est humanitate, ut hoc à me flagitare noluerit. Verum tandem tempus est manum de tabula tollere. Vale, vir amplissime.

Amstelod.

16 Maii.

Tui amantissimus,

P. à Limborch.

John Locke

21 Mai, 1698

Oates

Joanni Locke

LETTRE DE MR. LOCKE À MR. LIMBORCH.

Monsieur,

SI ma santé ne me permettoit pas de satisfaire commodément l’envie que j’ai d’éxécuter les ordres de ce grand homme qui reçoit si favorablement mes réflections, toutes médiocres qu’elles sont, il est pourtant vrai que je ne saurois la sacrifier pour une meilleure occasion que celle qui me porte à examiner le sujet où il m’a engagé, & qui me fournit le moyen de lui faire voir combien je suis prêt à lui obêïr. Mais je ne prétens pas qu’en cette rencontre il me soit obligé d’un tel sacrifice; car si je ne hazarde point ma réputation auprès de lui, je suis fort assuré que ma santé ne sera point intéressée par ce que je vais écrire. Ayant à faire à un homme qui raisonne si nettement, & qui a si bien approfondi cette matiere, je n’aurai pas besoin de parler beaucoup pour me faire entendre. Son extreme penetration lui fera sentir d’abord le fondement de la preuve que je vais proposer, de sorte que, sans qu’il soit nécessaire que je m’engage dans de longues déductions, il pourra juger si elle est bien ou mal fondée.

Je ne puis m’empêcher de remarquer l’exactitude de son jugement par rapport à l’ordre qu’il a donné à ses propositions, & il est vrai comme il l’a fort bien remarqué qu’en mettant la troisième à la place de la seconde, les Théologiens, les Philosophes, & Descartes lui-même, supposent l’unité de Dieu, sans la prouver.

Si par la question qui me fuit d’abord proposée, j’eusse compris comme je fais présentement, quel étoit le but de cet habile homme, je n’aurois pas envoyé la réponse que je vous ai envoyé, mais une beaucoup plus courte & plus conforme à l’ordre de la nature & de la raison, où chaque chose paroit dans son meilleur jour.

Je crois que quicunque réfléchira sur soi-même, connoîtra évidemment sans en pouvoir douter le moins du monde, qu’il y a eu de toute éternité un être intelligent. Je crois encore qu’il est évident à tout homme qui pense, qu’il y a aussi un être infini. Or je dis qu’il ne peut y avoir qu’un être infini, & que cet être infini doit être aussi l’être éternel; parce que, ce qui est infini doit avoir été infini de toute éternité, car aucuns additions faites dans le tems, ne sauroient rendre une chose infinie, si elle ne l’est pas en elle-même, & par elle-même, de toute éternité. Telle étant la nature de l’infini qu’on n’en peut rien ôter, & qu’on n’y peut rien ajouter. D’où il s’ensuit, que l’infini ne sauroit être séparé en plus d’un, ni être qu’un.

C’est-là, selon moi, une preuve à priori, que l’être éternel independent n’est qu’un: & si nous y joignons l’idée de toutes les perfections possibles, nous avons alors l’idée d’un Dieu éternel, infini, omniscient, & tout-puissant, &c.

Si ce raisonnement s’accorde avec les notions de l’excellent homme, qui doit le voir, j’en serai extrêmement satisfait. Et s’il ne s’en accommode pas, je regarderai comme une grande faveur s’il veut bien me communiquer sa preuve, que je tiendrai secrete, ou que je communiquerai comme venant de sa part, selon qu’il le jugera à propos. Je vous prie de l’assurer de mes trèshumbles respects. Je suis, &c.

Oates,

21 Mai, 1698.

J. Locke.

Philippus à Limborch

Jul. 1698

Amstelod. Cal.

Joanni Locke

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

Vir amicissime,

VIRO magnifico postremas tuas ostendi; illo pro labore rogatu suo à te suscepto maximas agit gratias: non tamen in tua argumentatione acquiescit. Methodus illius primo loco probat, dari ens aliquod per se existens ac sibi sufficiens: deinde, illud ens esse tantum unum: tertio, illud ens in se complecti omnes perfectiones, ac proinde esse Deum. Tu vero in tua argumentatione præsupponis, omni homini attente meditanti, evidens esse dari ens infinitum, cui nihil addi aut demi potest, atque id idem ipsi est ac supponere, dari ens undiquaque perfectum: quæ est tertia ipsius thesis; adeo ut ex præsupposita illius thesi tertia probes secundam: cum secunda prius probari debeat antiquam ex illa possit concludi tertii. Hæc fuit causa cur ego tibi considerandum dederim, an non ordo illius mutari debeat, & quæ illius tertia est non debeat esse secunda thesis: verum ut argumentatio procedat, non deberet ea thesis præsupponi, sed ex prima thesi probari: aut si illius methodus placeat, deberet prius ex eo, quod sit ens æternum ac sibi sufficiens, probari illud esse unum; & hoc probato porro exinde deduci illud esse infinitum, seu undiquaque perfectum. Argumentationem suam mihi nondum communicavit: an communicaturus sit, valde dubito. Idem ipsum qui te scrupulus retinet: metuit iniquas theologorum censuras, qui omnia è schola sua non hausta, atro carbone notare, ac infami exosissimarum hæresium nomenclatura traducere solent. Tentabo tamen, an prolixiore colloquio, quod mecum instituere velle dixit, aliquatenus elicere possim, quod scripto tradere gravatur. Vale, vir amplissime,

Amstelod. Cal.

Jul.

Tui amantissimus,

P. à Limborch.

Philippus à Limborch

12 Sept. 1698

Amstelod.

Joanni Locke

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

POST ultimum meum cum viro magnifico colloquium nulla ipsum conveniendi occasio fuit: aliquandiu febricula laboravit. Colloquium habui cum quodam illius amico, qui inter alia dixit, minime sibi probari viri magnifici argumentationem, qua contendit, si supponamus dari cogitationem, per se existentem, & præterea extensionem, seu materiam, quod neutra ullam alterius possit habere cognitionem: extensionem quidem (aiebat) nullam habituram cognitionem cogitationis; fieri autem non posse, quin cogitatio cognitionem sit habitura extensionis: quia cum cogitatio per se existat, sibique sit sufficiens, etiam est infinita; ac proinde vi infinitæ suæ cogitationis necessario cognoscit extensionem existentem. Sed cum regererem, virum magnificum improbare methodum, qua enti per se existenti sibique sufficienti probantur inesse alia attributa, antequam probatum sit illud esse tantum unicum; respondebat necessario de tali ente debere affirmari illud esse infinitum, sed in sua natura; cogitationem quidem esse infinitæ scientiæ; materiam infinitæ extensionis, si quidem per se existat. Sed inde sequi colligebam, etiam alia attributa posse probari: probata enim infinitate etiam probari posse alia illi inesse, sine quibus infinitas concipi nequit. Quod non negavit. Atque ita mecum sentire videbatur unitatem ejusmodi entis tali methodo frustra quæri, sed oportere thesin secundam esse tertiam. Crediderim ego virum magnificum hanc sibi investigandæ veritati præscripsisse methodum, & cum ipse, quæ sibi satisfaciant, argumenta invenire nequeat, ea apud alios quærere. Difficile mihi videtur probatu, ens necessitate naturæ suæ existens esse tantum unum, antequam ex necessaria existentia, alia, quæ eam necessario comitantur, attributa deduxeris. Si vir magnificus ea habeat, operæ pretium foret ea erudito orbi communicare.

Nuper professor Vander Weeyen tractatulum quendam Rittangeliæ edidit, illique prolixam ac virulentam contra D. Clericum præfixit præfationem, qua explicationem initii evangelii Joannis à D. Clerico editam, refutare conatur. Ego æquitatem & judicium in illo scripto desidero. In fine etiam contra me insurgit, verum paucis, quia in Theologia mea Christiana scripsi Burmanum pleraque, quæ in sua Synopsi Theologiæ habet de omnipotentia divina, descripsisse ex Spinosæ Cogitatis Metaphysicis. Ille non negat, sed contendit Burmannum propterea non esse Spinosistam, quod ego nusquam scripsi. Neuter nostrûm tam inepto scriptori quicquam reponet. Dediante paucas hebdomadas N. N. literas ad te perferendas; verum ille adhuc Roterodami commoratur: vir est eruditus, & moribus probatis. Non tu ex eorum es genere, qui viri, non per omnia tecum in religione sentientis alloquium horreas. Ille quando advenerit, de statu nostro plura dicere poterit. Hac hebdomade D. Guenellonus me tuis verbis salutavit, quodque postremis meis literis nondum responderis excusavit. Gratissimæ mihi semper sunt literæ tuæ, & quanto crebriores tanto gratiores; sed non sum importunus adeo exactor, ut cum meliorum laborum dispendio eas à te flagitem. Scio responsi tarditatem non oblivioni mei, sed negotiis, quibus obrueris, adscribendam. Spem fecit Guenellonus nonnullam profectionis tuæ instante hyeme in Galliam, & reditus tui in Angliam per Hollandiam nostram. Si id confirmandæ valetudini inservire queat, opto summis votis, ut iter hoc perficias, ut tui post tam diuturnam absentiam videndi & amplectendi, & fortasse ultimum valedicendi occasio detur. Vale.

Amstelod.

12 Sept.

Tui amantissimus,

P. à Limborch.

John Locke

4 Octob. 1698

London

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

London

4 Octob. 1698.

ROGO ut magnificum virum meo nomine adeas, dicasque me magnopere rogare ut suam methodum, qua unitatem entis per se existentis sibique sufficientis adstruit, mihi indicare velit: quandoquidem mea ea de re argumentandi ratio ipsi non penitus satisfaciat. Nollem ego in re tanti momenti, falso vel fallaci innixus fundamento, mihimet imponere. Si quid stabilius, si quid rectius noverit, ut candidus impertiri velit, enixè rogito. Si tectum, si tacitum velit, pro me meoque silentio spondeas. Sin tantum beneficium orbi non invideat, in proxima, quæ jam instat, libri mei editione palam faciam, agnito, si libet, vel velato auctore.

Cartesianorum, quam in epistola tua reperio loquendi formulam, nullatenus capio. Quid enim sibi velit cogitatio infinita, plane me fugit. Nullo enim modo mihi in animum inducere possum cogitationem per se existere, sed rem, vel substantiam, cogitantem, eamque esse, de qua affirmari possit esse vel finitam vel infinitam. Qui aliter loqui amant, nescio quid obscuri vel fraudulenti sub tam dubia locutione continere mihi videntur, & omnia tenebris involvere: vel saltem quod sentiant clare & dilucide enuntiare non audere, faventes nimium hypothesi non undique sanæ. Sed de hoc forsan alias, quando majus suppetet otium.

Quod de professore Vauder Weeyen scribis non miror. Istius farinæ homines sic solent, nec aliter possunt; recte facitis quod negligitis.

Literas tuas, quæ Roterodami hærent, avide expecto, & virum illum cui eas ad me perferendas tradidisti. Ex tua commendatione mihi erit gratissimus. Viros probos fovendos colendosque semper existimavi. Ignoscant alii meis erroribus; nemini propter opinionum diversitatem bellum indico, ignarus ego & fallibilis homuncio. Evangelicus sum ego christianus, non papista.

Hucusque scripseram die supra notato, quo autem die epistolam hanc finiri permissum est, infra videbis.

Quod velim cum me christianum Evangelicum, vel si mavis orthodoxum, non papistam dico, paucis accipe. Inter christiani nominis professores duos ego tantum agnosco classes, evangelicos & papistas. Hos, qui tanquam infallibiles dominium sibi arrogant id aliorum conscientias: i llos, qui quærentes unice veritatem, illam & sibi & aliis, argumentis solum rationibusque persuasam volunt; aliorum erroribus faciles, suæ imbecillitatis haud immemores: veniam fragilitati & ignorantiæ humanæ dantes petentesque vicissim.

Hyens jam ingravescens & pulmonibus meis infesta me brevi urbe expellet; & abitum suadet invalescens tussis & anhelitus. Iter in Galliam dudum propositum languescere videtur: quid fiet nescio, ubicunque fuero totus ubique tuus sum. Saluto uxorem tuam optimam liberosque amicosque nostros communes, Veenios, Guenellones, Clericos. Accepi nuper à Do Guenellone epistolam, 3 Octobris datam, pro qua nunc per te gratias reddere cupio, ipsi prima data occasione responsurus. Vale, vir amicissime, & me ama

18 Octob.

Tui amantissimum,

J. Locke.

Philippus à Limborch

9 Dec. 1698

Amstelod.

Joanni Locke

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

Amplissime Vir,

QUOD literis tuis hactenus non responderim valetudo minus prospera in causa fuit. Aliquot hebdomadibus febricula laboravi, accessere dolores colici acres admodum ac vehementes. Tandem benignitate divina convalui & ad intermissa studia reversus sum.

Cartesianam illam loquendi formulam ego tecum non capio; cogitationem enim per se existentem non percipio, sed quidem substantiam cogitantem: verum ne sententiam suam minus candide proponi querantur, iisdem, quibus illi eam explicant, verbis uti, necesse habui: ego autem quando me explico, ita loqui non soleo.

Quæ de christianis evangelicis & papistis disseris, optima sunt & verissima. Ego utramque classem in omnibus christianorum sectis reperiri credo. Nullum enim cœtum ita prorsus corruptum mihi persuadeo, ut nemo in tanto numero sit evangelicus; licet enim cœtus ipse professionem edat papismi, nonnullos tamen in eo latere credo evangelicos, quibus dominatus ille in aliorum conscientias displicet, ac dissentientibus salutem abjudicare religio est. Rursus licet cœtus evangelicam charitatem profiteatur, non adeo in omnibus & per omnia purgatum, sperare ausim, quin & degeneres aliquot in eo reperiantur, qui professionis suæ obliti, tyrannidem animo fovent, libertatemque sentiendi, quam sibi cupiunt, aliis invident. Ita ubique zizania tritico permixta in hoc sæculo habebimus. Evangelicos ego, quocunque in cœtu sunt, amo ac fraterna charitate complector. Papistas, licet ejusdem mecum cœtus membra, tanquam spurios Christianos considero, nec genuina esse corporis Christi membra agnosco, utpote charitate, ex qua discipulos suos agnosci vult Christus, destitutos.

Bibliopolæ Churchill tradetur fasciculus, quem ad te mittet, complectens Historiam Inquisitionis, quam cum epistola addita Francisco Cudworth Masham tradi velim: addidi tria defensionis meæ contra Joannem Vander Weeyen exemplaria, quorum unum tibi, alterum Francisco, tertium Do Coste destinavi. Adversarius meus se reformatum vocat: an evangelicus, an vero papista sit, tu dijudicabis. Amicorum hortatui obsecutus sum; verum bonas meas horas melioribus studiis destinavi, nec facile me istiusmodi scriptis inde denuo avelli patiar. Ut scias quo respiciam, quando de spatiis imaginariis ultra polos loquor, adscribam lineas aliquot ex tractatu quodam Weeyeni contra Spanhemium, quibus Spanhemio geographiæ ignorantiam objicit, ipseo adeo rudis, ut discrimen inter gradus longitudinis & latitudinis prorsus ignoret. Hæc sunt ejus verba:a “Ridere in calce si lubeat, lege quæso Dissertat. Histor. . Americæ longitudinem protendit [Spanhemius] ultra 180 gradus. Forte pars ejus in spatiis imaginariis collocanda erit! cum hactenus ab uno polo ad alium non ultra 180 gradus ponant geographi. Arcticæ & antarcticæ terræ partibus nullus jam locus erit, ubi America ultra polos ignorantissime protenditur. Cave credas [Spanhemio] adeo crasse philosophanti, cum ad mathesin ventum est.” Monitus ab amico, rescisso hoc folio, aliud substituit: sed libellus jam toto Belgio dispersus erat, & in omnium officinis prostabat. Vide cum quali heroë mihi res sit. Hyemem hanc sine gravi incommodo ruri ut transigas voveo. Domino ac Dominæ Masham, totique familiæ officiosissimam à nobis dicas salutem. Uxor ac filia te plurimum salutant, imprimis ego.

Amstelod.

9 Dec.

Tui amantissimus,

P. à Limborch.

Philippus à Limborch

23 Junii, 1699

Amstelod.

Joanni Locke

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

Amplissime Vir,

LITERAS tuas vir eruditissimus fideliter mihi ante duos circiter menses tradidit. Edidit Weeyenus dissolutionem defensionis meæ, verum adeo dissolutam, maledicam, & nihil an principale argumentum facientem, ut sponte evanitura sit. Ego nolo mihi cum tam impotenti adversatio quicquam negotii esse. Ut exiguum aliquod specimen tibi referam, carpit quod dixi indolem, qua à litibus abhorreo, mihi esse innatam; atque propterea me criminatur, quod glorier de propriis meis viribus, se vero omnia gratiæ divinæ adscribere jactat, idque duabus aut tribus primis foliis plus sexies repetit: talis farinæ totus est liber. Si dixissem me natura esse propensum ad odium Dei & proximi, fuissem illi orthodoxus. Hanc sibi indolem naturalem agnoscit: actiones vero ejus ostendunt, regenerationem (quam sibi tribuit) admodum esse imperfectam, partemque irregenitam multum prædominari regenitæ. D. Clericus edidit Gallice sua Parrhasiana, in quibus de variis disserit, & paucis etiam hunc hominem perstringit: verum accuratiorem illius refutationem Latinam brevi editurus est. Prodiit etiam alterius docti viri tractatus, quem tibi in Anglia ostendit. Quænam de illo aliorum futura sint judicia brevi audiemus. Multa supponit tanquam certa, quæ mihi incertissima sunt, aliis falsa habebuntur.

Legi nuper Camdeni Historiam Angliæ sub Elizabetha, in cujus parte II. anno 1579, hæc verba reperi: “Execranda Matthæi Hammonti impietas, quæ in Deum Christumque ejus, Norwici, hoc tempore debacchata est, & cum illius vivicomburio, ut spero, extincta, oblivione potius est obruenda, quam memoranda.” Velim Camdenus paulo distinctius impietatem illam indicâsset, ut de criminis, quod tam horrendo supplicio vindicatum fuit, atrocitate constare possit. Scimus innoxios quandoque errores à theologis blasphemias & impietates execrandas vocari, ut crudelitati, qua in dissentientes sæviunt, prætextum quærant. Frustra ego hactenus in autoribus, qui mihi ad manum sunt, exactiorem hujus Hammonti historiam quæsivi: non dubito tamen, quin ea in scriptoribus Anglis reperiri possit. Si sine tuo incommodo explicatiorem illius narrationem mihi suppeditare queas, rem feceris mihi longè gratissimam. Plura illius generis collegi, quæ in ordinem redigere statui, non ut alios traducam, sed ut omnes à sævitia in dissentientes, quantum in me, deterream. Guenellonus noster plurimam tibi salutem scribi jussit. Literas traditurus est nobili Muscovitæ ad te perferendas, qui propediem hinc in Anglicam trajiciet, quod tibi significari voluit. Salutant te ac Dominum & Dominam Masham totamque familiam uxor ac liberi: Francisci Masham epistola mihi perplacet, sed jam non est respondendi otium: à tali indole egregia quævis expecto. Nominatim illi, ut & Do Coste salutem dices à me

Amstelod.

23 Junii,

Tui amantissimo,

P. à Limborch.

Philippus à Limborch

3 August. 1699

Amstelod.

Joanni Locke

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

LITERAS meas, circa mensis Junii finem scriptas, fideliter tibi esse traditas nullus dubito. Indicavit mihi D. Clericus sibi à te missum D. Allix tractatum Anglicum, quo probare contendit, Paraphrastas Judæos æternam filii Dei generationem agnovisse. Nuperrime hic prodiit tractatus ante plures annos, ut præfatio habet, & argumentum libri clare ostendit, ab autore ignoto scriptus, qui duos scriptores Rittangelium & Voisinum, idem quod de Allix asserentes, impugnat. Commodâ mihi, per nautam mihi notum oblata occasione exemplar illius ad bibliopolam Churchill tibi porro tradendum mitto, ut hujus cum tractatu D. Allix collatione instituta, de tota controversia judices. Ego non video causæ principali aliquod creari periculum, etiamsi argumento hoc, ex Judæorum scriptis deprompto, propugnari non posset; nec ego tali argumento, in disputatione contra Judæos, multum tribuere ausim. Alia sunt majoris momenti, & quæ fortius stringunt: verum hoc sine occultæ cum fidei hostibus conspirationis suspicione affirmari non patiuntur orthodoxiæ, semel decretis humanis definitæ, jurati vindices, quibus piaculum est vel unum argumentum, licet elumbe ac stramineum, modo à zelotis adhiberi solitum, omittere, aut de illius evidentia ac robore vel minimum dubitare.

Adfuere mihi nuper aliquot præstantissimi Angli, de quibus, an tibi noti sint, ignoro. Omnes mihi narraverunt T — quendam, juvenem Hibernum, & ut audio, non magnifice de s. scripturæ divinitate sentientem, aliquoties gloriatum de honore, sibi ab aliquot viris eruditis in patria nostra exhibito: inter alia etiam amicitiam ac familiaritatem mecum contractam jactare. Miror quid hominem, nunquam mihi visum, quique ater an albus sit ignoro, moveat, falso jactare familiaria mecum habita colloquia. Quoniam autem justam mihi causam præbet suspicandi, similia eum de nostra amicitia in Anglia disseminaturum, hac occasione, id scribere tibi consultum duxi: ut si quid simile jactet rumorem illum falsi coarguere queas. Antehac de D. Clerici amicitia multum gloriatus est: ipsum hunc bis convenit, sed semel in alienis ædibus: verum ita à Clerico exceptus est, ut de consensu illius secum minime gloriari queat. Sub prælo jam habet D. Clericus aliquot epistolas, quibus se contra criminationes Cavei, Weeyeni, aliorumque defendit. Semel hoc labore defungi cupit, ideoque pluribus simul respondet. Vitam Episcopii à Marco Teute in Latinum sermonem versam relegi: quædam emendavi: omnia autem si emendare cupiam, res magni esset laboris: addidi etiam quædam, quibus Historia nostra exteris plenius paulo explicatur: verum quoniam non Remonstrantismi, sed solummodo vitæ Episcopii Historiam conscripsi, intra cancellos rerum ab ipso Episcopio gestarum continere me debui. Fortasse versio illa, qualiscunque sit, brevi prælo subjicietur. Vale, vir amplissime: salutem dices Dominæ Masham totique familiæ, à me, uxore, & filia, qui omnes tibi salutem precantur.

Amstelod.

3 August.

Tui amantissimus,

P. à Limborch.

John Locke

5 Sept. 1699

London

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH, JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

NUDIUSTERTIUS tractatum contra Rittangelium, quem mihi misisti, accepi. Benigne mecum actum erit, si hoc nomine mihi ignoscas tarditatem responsi ad literas tuas, tertio Augusti datas. Nondum mihi vacui temporis satis datum est, ut Allixi librum hoc de argumento aggrederer, qui mirus plerisque primo auditu visus est, quod trinitatis doctrinam è synagoga haurire præ se fert. Accingam me quamprimum jam per otium liceat ad utriusque lectionem; multi enim, ut audio, apud nos dictitant quæstionem hanc, prius non intellectam, jam primum in lucem produxisse Allixium, & suis fundamentis innixam mundo obtulisse. Quas partes hac in controversia habent Judæi, perpensis utrinque argumentis jam videbimus.

Hibernum quem nominas, vanæ hujusmodi gloriolæ avidum, ex aliis audivi: si de te tuaque amicitia aliquid jactitet apud communes amicos familiaresque meos, quam omnino tibi ignotus sit, ex me scient.

Criminationes hujusmodi adversariorum, quibuscum res est Domino Clerico, an negligendæ, an refutandæ, haud facile est statuere. Quidam enim non aliud quærunt nisi calumniandi rixandique ansam. Non dubito quin amicus noster satis habet quod respondeat. Ego sane laudo tuum consilium, qui placide juxta ac solide refutaveris quæ contra te maligne scripserat Weeyenus. De controversiarum, quæ me aliquamdiu exercuerunt, eventu, etiamsi non multum habeam quod querar, piget tamen pœnitetque tantum temporis mihi suffuratum, quod aliis studiis majore cum fructu poterat impendi. Si quæ novæ oriantur vellicationes, eas in posterum mihi negligendas censeo.

Vitam Episcopii latinitate donatam lubens viderim; Belgica enim lingua non satis mihi nota, ut quam tu edideris legere possim. Non dubito quin multa contineat scitu & jucunda & utilia, sive mores privatos respicias, sive rerum eo tempore gestarum historiam.

Hactenus ad tuas 3 Augusti datas, sed qua excusatione utar, cum respicio ad antiquiores, scilicet mense Junio scriptas? Si delictum consuetudine delinquendi defendi possit, habeo quod dicam: nôsti tarditatem meam hoc in genere. Fac ut soles, & inveterascentem in me delinquendi morem tu consuetudine ignoscendi vincas.

Cum in novissimis tuis de viro magnifico ne verbum quidem, amici tui opinionem pronus amplector. Operose ab aliis quærit, non quod domi habet, sed quod nusquam adhuc reperire potuit, & quod forsan reperiri possit.

Tractatus viri docti, quem in Angliæ videram, apud vos editus, nondum ad manus meas pervenit: de fundamentis quibus tanquam certissimis superstructum censuit, minime mihi satisfecit, cum de iis coram disceptavimus.

Exactiorem Hammonti historiam quæsivi, nondum autem reperi quenquam, qui eam mihi explicatius tradere possit, vel scriptorem aliquem indicare in quo eam reperire licet. Non tamen desistam. Laudo enim consilium tuum in colligendis hujusmodi exemplis.

Guenelloni nostri literas, quas me expectare jusseras, nondum vidi, nec nobilem Muscovitam, cui tradendæ erant ad me perferendæ. Quo infortunio hoc acciderit, nondum scio. Doleo interim mihi ablatam occasionem testandi, quam paratus essem inservire peregrino, à tam caro amico adventanti. Illum uxoremque ipsius, socerumque ejus Veenium nostrum, officiosissime meo nomine quæso salutes: imprimis autem uxorem liberosque tuos. Vale, & me, ut facis, ama

London

5 Sept.

Tui amantissimum,

J. Locke.

Philippus à Limborch

2 Oct. 1699

Amstelod.

Joanni Locke

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

LICET nihil mihi literis tuis gratius sit, absit tamen, ut amicum plurimis ac gravissimis distractum negotiis, ad singulis meis respondendum constringi cupiam. Amicitia arithmeticam illam scribendi & respondendi proportionem non requirit, sed in prompto ac benevolo amici animo acquiescit, & bene secum actum credit, quotiescunque amicus aliquam à gravioribus curis respirationem nactus, vel tantillum temporis, epistolio, licet breviori, impendit. Ego ex tuis te recte valere lætus intellexi: Deus hanc tibi diu continuet valetudinem. Anonymi librum contra Rittangelium recte ad manus tuas pervenisse gaudeo. Ubi eum legeris & cum Allixii libro contuleris, rem mihi facies maximopere gratam, si vel tribus lineis judicium tuum de utroque ad me scribas.

D. Clerici epistolæ criticæ, quibus pluribus qui calamum in ipsum strinxerunt, simul respondet, brevi lucem videbunt. Adversarios habet parum candidos, & eorum quosdam imperitos admodum ac indoctos; præsertim illum qui ipsum & me non provocatus invasit. Homo ille omnium imperitus de omnibus judicium pronuntiat, quæque minime intelligit magno cum supercilio carpit. Contra Clericum scribit, Philonem à Spencero vocari fabularum sterquilinium: verum quod Spencerus scribit de fictitio antiquitatum biblicarum libro, Philoni falsò tributo, quique nusquam in Philonis operibus exstat, ille de genuino Philone dicta putat. Et hic heros, adeo in Philone hospes, Clericum malæ fidei in Philone citando accusare audet. Me sibi seditionem objicere putat, quando triumphum in spatiis imaginariis agere jubeo, innumerabili ex fœcunda gente Meneni turba currum faustis acclamationibus prosequente: ignarus fœcundam gentem Meneni non seditiosos, sed stolidos, quorum magna ubique copia est, designare. Clerico contra talem adversarium similem, quanquam non adeo gloriosum, propter adversarii exiguam eruditionem, eventum, qualem tu nuper omnium judicio consecutus es, prævideo. Scripsit de eo nuperrime ad me doctus quidem Anglus, qui me præterito anno vidit, his verbis: “Non dubito quin jamdudum audivisti de indubitata victoria, quam amicus tuus D. Locke retulit de episcopo Vigorniensi, in ejus responsione ultima ad objectiones episcopi, contra librum de intellectu Humano. Episcopus eam vidit, nec multo post mortuus est. Sed etiamsi diutius vixisset, vix credo eum responsurum fuisse: omnia enim istic adeo ad vivum demonstrantur, ut nullus locus contradictioni relinquatur.”

Exactiorem Hammonti historiam quærendo nolo multum te fatiges: si absque tuo incommodo eam mihi suppeditare potuisses, gratum fuisset. Credidi ego lingua Anglica exstare historias ecclesiasticas, in quibus hoc hæretici adeo horrendi exemplum prætermissum neutiquam est. Ejusmodi enim orthodoxiæ de hæresibus triumphos zelotæ, in suis historiis, magnifice deprædicare solent. Sed quoniam illud exemplum tibi obvium non est, ego brevi illa Camdeni narratione contentus ero. Episcopii vitam jam paucas intra hebdomadas prælo subjiciendam credo, quoniam ingens, quod sub prælo habebat typographus, opus jam jam in lucem proditurum est, ut jam illius præla hujus opusculi editione occupari possint.

De magnifico viro nihil jam audio, nihil etiam ab ipso responsi expecto. Videtur aliquatenus congressum meum vitare, fortasse quia me responsum flagitaturum credit: verum ego statui eum amplius non urgere, ne responsum, quod declinet, flagitando importunus videar.

Me Guenelloni, quæ de eo scripsisti, prælegisse testes sunt literæ ipsius, quibus has inclusas voluit. Ipse de nobili illo Muscovita pluribus ad te scribit. Salutem quam officiosissime à nobis dices Dominæ Masham totique familiæ. Salutant te uxor & liberi, imprimis ego.

Amstelod.

2 Oct.

Tui amantissimus,

P. à Limborch.

John Locke

7 Octob. 1699

London

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

QUOD à me petiisti, quærendo apud veterem historicum tandem inveni. En tibi igitur Hammonti crimen & vivicomburium.

Matthæus Hammont aratrorum faber ex vico Hetharset, tribus milliaribus à Norwico distante, reus factus coram episcopo Norwicensi accusatus, quod negaverat Christum salvatorem nostrum. Comparenti in judicio objectum est, quod sequentes propositiones hæreticas publicâsset, nempe quod Novum Testamentum & evangelium Christi pura stultitia erat, inventum humanum, & mera fabula. Quod homo in gratiam restituitur sola misericordia divina, sine ope sanguinis, mortis, & passionis Christi. Insuper, quod Christus non est Deus, nec salvator mundi, sed merus homo, peccator, & idolum abominandum; & quod omnes, qui illum colunt, sunt idololatræ abominandi. Item, quod Christus non resurrexit à morte ad vitam, potestate suæ divinitatis, neque in cœlum ascendit. Item, quod Spiritus sanctus non est Deus, nec quidem omnino est. Item, quod baptismus in ecclesia Dei non est necessarius, nec usus sacramenti corporis & sanguinis Christi. Propter quas hæreses condemnatus est in consistorio, episcopo sententiam pronunciante, 13 die Aprilis 1579, & deinde traditus vicecomiti Norwicensi. Et quia verba blasphemiæ (non recitanda) locutus fuerat contra reginam aliosque è concilio reginæ sanctiore, condemnatus est à judice Norwicensi Windamo, & prætore Norwicensi Roberto Wood, ut ei amputarentur auriculæ, quod factum est in foro Norwicensi 13 Maii, & postea 12 ejusdem mensis vivicomburium passus est, in fossa castelli Norwicensis.

Hactenus Hollinshead ad annum 21 Elizabethæ. Huic simile exemplum reperio in eodem historico, ad annum Elizabethæ 25. Verba authoris hæc sunt:

18 Die Septembris anno 1583, Johannes Lewes, hæreticus obstinatus, qui negavit deitatem Christi, & professus plures alias detestandas hæreses, quales fere erant prædecessoris sui Hammonti, combustus est Norwici.

Lubet etiam duo alia exempla ejusmodi ex alio autore suggerere, quæ tibi etiam forte usui esse possunt in eo, quod præ manibus habes, argumento. Primum est vivicomburium Bartholomæi Legatt Londinensis, anno 1611, & Jacobi primi 9, ob varios errores, hæreses, & blasphema dogmata asserta & publicata, præcipue in his tredecim positionibus sequentibus. Nempe quod symbolum dictum Nicænum, illudque alterum Athanasii, non continent veram professionem fidei christianæ: vel quod ille ipse non vult profiteri suam fidem secundum illa symbola Quod Christus non est de Deo Deus genitus, non factus: sed & genitus & factus. Quod nullæ sunt in Deitate personæ. Quod Christus non fuit Deus ab æterno, sed incipit esse Deus, quando carnem assumpsit ex virgine Maria. Quod Mundus non fuit factus per Christum. Quod apostoli docent Christum esse merum hominem. Quod in Deo nulla sit generatio nisi creaturarum. Quod hæc assertio, Deus factus est homo, contraria est fidei regulæ & blasphemia enormis. Quod Christus non fuit ante plenitudinem temporis, nisi promissione. Quod Christus non fuit aliter Deus quam unctus Deus. Quod Christus non fuit in forma Die æqualis Deo, i. e. in substantia Dei, sed in justitia & dando salutem. Quod Christus deitate sua nulla operatus est miracula. Quod preces Christo non sunt offerendæ.

Hic Bartholomæus Legatt ab episcopo Londinensi, assistentibus consentientibusque aliis reverendis episcopis, doctisque clericis, hæreseos condemnatus est, & brachio sæculari traditus, & deinde igni commissus & combustus in West-Smithfield Londini.

Eodem supplicio affectus est Edvardus Wightman, in civitate Lichfield, anno 1611, ab episcopo Coventriæ & Lichfield, hæreseos damnatus, ob has sequentes opiniones:

Quod non est trinitas personarum, patris, filii, & spiritûs sancti, in unitate Deitatis.

Quod Jesus Christus non est verus, naturalis filius Dei, Deus perfectus, & ejusdem substantiæ, æternitatis, & majestatis cum patre, respectu deitatis suæ.

Quod Jesus Christus est homo solummodo, & mera creatura, & non Deus simul & homo in una persona.

Quod salvator noster Christus non sibi sumpsit carnem humanam ex substantia virginis Mariæ matris suæ; & quod promissio illa, “Semen mulieris conteret caput serpentis,” non adimpleta erat in Christo.

Quod persona spiritus sancti non est Deus, coæqualis, coessentialis cum patre & filio.

Quod tria symbola, sc. Apostolorum, Nicænum, & Athanasii, continent hæresin Nicolaïtarum.

Quod ille, nempe Eduardus Wightman, est propheta ille, cujus mentio facta est xviii. Deuteron. his verbis: “Suscitabo illis prophetam,” &c. Et quod verba Isaiæ, “Ego solus torcular calcavi,” & Lucæ, “Cujus ventilabrum in manu ejus,” pertinent proprie & personaliter eidem dicto Eduardo Wightman.

Quod ille, nempe Wightman, est persona illa spiritus sancti, cujus mentio facta est in scriptura, & paracletus ille, de quo loquitur Joannes, c. xvi. evangelii sui.

Quod verba salvatoris nostri Christi, de peccato blasphemiæ contra spiritum sanctum, de sua persona intelligenda sunt.

Quod Elias ille venturus, de quo loquitur Malach. c. iv. suam personam designat.

Quod anima æque ac corpus dormit in somno primæ mortis, & est mortalis, respectu somni primæ mortis, uti corpus; & quod anima servatoris nostri Jesu Christi in illo somno mortis dormivit, æque ac corpus ejus.

Quod animæ sanctorum defunctorum non sunt membra, quæ possident ecclesiam triumphantem in cœlo.

Quod Pædobaptismus est ritus abominandus.

Quod celebratio cœnæ dominicæ in elementis panis & vini in ecclesia esse non debet; neque baptismi in elemento aquæ, uti nunc in ecclesia Anglicana usus obtinet. Sed baptismus in aqua administrari debet solis adultis à paganismo ad fidem conversis.

Quod Deus ordinavit & misit illum, scil. Eduardum Wightman ad exequendum suam partem operis salutis mundi, ut sua doctrina suisque monitis mundum liberaret ab hæresi Nicolaïtarum, ut Christus ordinatus fuit & missus ad mundum servandum, & à peccato liberandum morte sua, & Deo reconciliandum.

Quod Christiana religio non integra, sed pars solum illius prædicatur & admittitur in ecclesia Anglicana.

Hæc ex lingua Anglicana nimis fidus interpres, verbatim pene, neglecta latinitatis elegantia & sermonis proprietate, transtuli, ut dogmata illa hæretica & capitalia, quæ supplicium illud meruerunt, tibi, ut apud nos memoriæ mandantur, perfecte innotescerent. Si qua alia hujus generis exempla apud nos extant, si cupias, ex nostra historia eruam & ad te mittam.

Dum hæc præ manibus haberem, allata mihi est gratissima tua 2. hujus mensis scripta epistola, adjunctis duabus aliis. Sentio te eundem semper quem fueras, facilem, dulcemque amicis.

Quamprimum per otium licebit Allixii & Anonymi libros mihi perlegendos proponam, nec oscitanter. Quandoquidem in eo cardine summan quæstionis versari creditum est. Gaudeo D. Clerici Epistolas Criticas propediem prodituras; ut brevi confossis adversariis in pace vacet studiis melioribus. Controversiarum enim tædium ingens, fructus exiguus. De magnifico viro idem quod tu plane sentio, nec ultra fatigandum censeo. Guenellonis epistolæ amicæ brevi respondebo. Hos ambos interim rogo officiosissime meo nomine salutes, ut et uxorem tuam et filiam; Dominam Guenellonem, Veeneumque, reliquosque amicos nostros communes. Vale, &, ut facis, me ama

London

7 Octob.

Tui amantissimum,

J. Locke.

Philippus à Limborch

6 Nov. 1699

Amstelod.

Joanni Locke

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

Amplissime vir,

PRO labore, quem meo rogatu suscepisti, maximas tibi habeo gratias. Gaudeo me ex literis tuis didicisse, quæ episcoporum illius temporis judicio horrenda illa crimina fuerint, non nisi atrocissimo ignis supplicio luenda. Video quandoque unum idemque dogma diversis verbis enuntiari, atque ita, quod uno comprehendi poterat articulo, in plures distendi, proculdubio ut plurium hæresium reatus tam atroci supplicio prætexi possit. Malim dogmata ipsis eorum, qui ea professi fuerint, verbis legere expressa; sic certus forem, me non legere consequentias, sed ipsa dogmata, eaque non terminis odiosis concepta, forte in alienum sensum detorta, sed ipsis autorum verbis nude & candide enuntiata, nihilque continentia, nisi quod ipse, cujus causa agitur, pro suo agnoscit. Quando autem procedendi modum video, ad sancti tribunalis instar omnia exacte esse conformata, non sine dolore, agnosco. Bartholomæi Legatt, supplicium, verum suppresso illius nomine, laudat Casaubonus, in epistola dedicatoria in Exercit. ad Baronium. Wightmani supplicium paucis narrat Gilbertus Clerke, in Antinicænismo contra Bullum, . Utriusque autem latius describit Gerardus Croesius Historiæ Quakerianæ, lib. iii. . Verum licet non penitus illorum suppliciorum ignarus sim, rem mihi fecisti longe gratissimam, quod pleniorem hæresium ipsis attributarum historiam miseris: multa hactenus mihi ignorata, & scopo meo apprime inservientia, me docuisti. Verum unum est quod desidero, nomen autoris ex quo historiam Legatti & Wightmani habes: illud enim in epistola tua non reperio. Tum & leviculum erratum, fortasse calami festinatione, commissum est. Ais Hammonto auriculas amputatas in foro Norwicensi, 13 Maii, & postea 12 ejusdem mensis illum vivicomburium passum. Atqui dies duodecimus antecedit decimum tertium. Præter hæc supplicia legi in Burneti Historia Reform. Eccl. Engl. ad annum 1549, sub Eduardo VI. vivicomburium Johannæ Bocheræ, seu Johannæ de Kent, & Georgii Van Pare, utrumque satis distincte descriptum: itaque nihil est quod hic desidero.

Verum in Mennonitarum scriptis, ad annum 1575, reperio sub Elizabetha, sævam, contra Mennonitas è Belgio profugos, excitatam persecutionem. Narrant nimirum, cœtus suos in Anglia fuisse disturbatos, aliquot suorum in carcerem conjectos, quorum quinque, post varias disputationes & comminationes mortis, ad professionem religionis reformatæ adacti sunt: qui nihilominus in cœmeterio Divi Pauli publico spectaculo fuere expositi, singulorumque humero rogus fuit impositus, quod designabatur ignis supplicium fuisse meritos. Quatuordecim mulieres navibus sunt impositæ, juvenis quidam currui alligatus flagris cæsus, unaque cum mulieribus regno exire jussus, intentata pœna mortis si redirent. Quinque viri in squalido ac profundo carcere detenti sunt, quorum unus in carcere diem suum obiit. Ministri Belgicarum & Gallicarum ecclesiarum Londini reliquos quatuor in suam sententiam pellicere conabantur. Tandem Julii die 22, duo maximi natu, Johannes Petri & Henricus Terwoord, eodem in loco, in quo antehac reformatis ignis supplicium irrogatum fuit, vivi combusti & in cineres redacti sunt, &c. Historiam hanc satis distincte, multisque circumstantiis vestitam narrant Mennonitæ. De hisce nihil prorsus scribit Camdenus: solummodo ad annum 1560, refert Elizabetham anabaptistas & id genus hæreticos, qui in maritima Angliæ oppida ex transmarinis regionibus, specie declinandæ persecutionis, convolârant, & sectarum virus in Anglia sparserant, è regno intra viginti dies excedere imperâsse, sive illi indigenæ sive exteri, sub pœna incarcerationis & bonorum amissionis. Velim scire, si levi labore fieri possit, an quæ de supplicio hoc narrant scriptores Angli consentanea sint illis, quæ hic ex Mennonitarum scriptis excerpsi. Talia in reformationis opprobrium cedunt. Mihi enim perinde christianæ charitati adversari videtur tribunal de fide, sive id prope Tiberim, sive Lemanum, sive Thamesin constituatur: eadem quippe exercetur crudelitas, licet alio in loco & ab aliis hominibus. Et ut nostrate proverbio dicitur, “Idem est monachus, sed alio indutus cucullo.” Judicium tuum de Allixii & Anonymi libro audire gestio. In hoc argumento quæstionis cardinem verti a vestratibus credi miror. Ego nihil causæ principali contra Judæos deesse credo, etiamsi hoc argumento destituatur. D. Clerici Epistolæ Criticæ nondum prodeunt; propediem vero eas expectamus. Vale, vir amplissime,

Amstelod.

6 Nov.

Tui amantissimus,

P. à Limborch.

John Locke

6 Jan. 1700

Oates

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

RECTE quidem mones, vir amplissime, errore festinantis calami transpositi sunt characteres numerales, & 12 scriptum pro 21: nam 21 Maii Hammontus passus est vivicomburium. Quereris insuper, idque non sine causa, quod nomen auctoris, ex quo historiam Legatti & Wightmani hausi, omiserim. Id autem negligentia non factum mea est. Libellus prostat Anglicè, cui titulus, “The history of the first fourteen years of king James;” i. e. Historia quatuordecim primorum annorum Jacobi regis. Autor nomen suum tacuit. Huic libello annectitur ad finem tractatulus, cui titulus, “A true relation of the commissions and warrants for the condemnation and burning of Bartholomew Legatt and Edward Wightman, the one in West-Smithfield, the other in Litchfield, in the year 1611, signed with king James’s own hand.”

De Mennonitis quod quæris, nondum aliquid ex nostris historicis eruere mihi contigit, quod tibi satisfaciat, vel lucem afferat: forsan quia idonei hic rure non ad manus sint scriptores, quos consulam. Ne tamen tibi in tam desiderato opere quicquam, quod in me est, opis tibi desit, id negotii dedi ingenuo doctoque amico, ut si qua opera reperire possit, inter autores nostros, illius rei monumenta, id totum quicquid est, excerptum ad me transmittere velit. Quamprimum aliqua testimonia, ad rem tuam facientia, mihi oblata fuerint, tibi confestim transmittenda curabo.

Allixii librum, quamprimum proditt, coëmi, animo legendi, sed otiose hactenus præ manibus jacuit, nec dum, sive per valetudinem, sive per alias avocationes, legere licuit; spero propediem pinguius & fructuosius otium. Quid de eo audias interim mihi dicas. Quidam apud nos valde paradoxam credunt, doctrinam trinitatis Judæis tribuere, & stabilimentum istius dogmatis è synagoga petere. Alii è contra dictitant, hoc jugulum causæ esse; & hoc fundamento stabiliri orthodoxiam & everti omnia unitariorum argumenta. Quid ipsa res doceat, aveo videre, opem enim in hac causa à Judæis & Rabbinis olim non expectavi. Sed lux semper gratissima, undecunque affulgeat.

Domina Masham reliquique es hac familia te plurimum salvere jubent. Nosque omnes tibi tuisque omnibus felicem annum exoptamus. Vale, vir optime, &, ut facis, me ama

Oates, 6 Jan.

Tui amantissimum,

J. Locke.

Veenium, Guenellonem, Clericum, reliquosque nostros, quæso meo nomine officiosissime salutes, quibus omnibus felicem hujus sæculi exitum & futuri introitum opto.

Philippus à Limborch

11 Maii, 1700

Amstelod.

Joanni Locke

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

QUOD hactenus ad amicissimas tuas siluerim, ulla tui oblivione factum credas nolim. Multa responsum distulere; præcipue quidem tristis ille casus tibi satis notus, & mœror inde contractus. Ego ad studia, hoc infelici casu multum languentia, reversus sum; recuperata jam sanitate, quæ valde afflicta fuit. Relegi epistolam tuam; video nihil eam continere quod promptum responsum flagitet; attamen benevolus tuus affectus, quo propositum meum promovere contendis, citius merebatur responsum: tu autem tarditatem facile condonabis mœrori meo.

De Bilibra hic apud nos altum est silentium. Verum vidi reverendissimum episcopum Bathoniensem & Wellensem, in præfatione tertiæ partis contra Judæos, eam breviter & generatim oppugnâsse. Ego velim genuinum statum controversiæ ingenue ac terminis minime ambiguis proponi, & argumenta candide ac solide in utramque partem expendi, quod prolixiorem tractatum & animum non studio partium abreptum, sed veritatis sincere studiosum, requirit. Prodiit hac hyeme liber Gallice scriptus, cui autor titulum præfixit, “Le Platonisme dévoilé.” Autorem jam obiisse præfatio docet. Dicitur in Anglia scriptus, indeque huc missus, ut in lucem edatur. Quamvis eruditus sit tractatus, multis displiciturum credo: & licet ego discrepantes de religione sententias, sine ulla erga autores indignatione, investigare soleo, non possum tamen dissimulare, aculeatos ipsius sarcasmos in materia sacra mihi quam maxime displicere: licet enim credere posset, adversarios, quos oppugnat, illos meruisse; materiæ tamen quam tractat majestas cohibere eum debuisset, ne hic quicquam gravitati christianæ adversum immisceret. Tum & prudentiæ fuit, mordacibus ejusmodi sarcasmis adversariorum contra se ac suos indignationem, alias satis acrem, non magis exacerbare. Audio plura illius exemplaria in Angliam esse missa; quare à te visum esse nullus dubito.

Burmanni filios, dehortantibus nequicquam amicis, contra me tractatum scripsisse aiunt, eumque jam sub prælo esse, ac brevi proditurum. Weeyenum habuere continuum instigatorem, qui cum Burmannum purgare non potuit, illius filios in me concitavit, ut ipsi, sub specioso defendendi patris prætextu, inanem in se ac inglorium laborem susciperent: non enim verba parentis sui, nec Spinosæ, è libris editis eradere possunt; neque inficiari eadem esse quæ in Spinosa, & parentis sui synopsi Theologiæ leguntur verba. Quæstio facti est, quæ, prolatis ex utroque autore testimoniis, in dubium vocari nequit. Ego talia scripta maxima animi serenitate contemnere possum. Vale, vir amplissime. Salveat Domina Masham cum tota familia. Omnes mei te salutant.

Amstelod.

11 Maii,

Tui amantissimus,

P. à Limborch.

Philippus à Limborch

20 Julii, 1700

Amstelod.

Joanni Locke

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

Amplissime vir,

ANTE hebdomadas aliquot, tuo nomine, mihi datus est præstantissimus tuus de Intellectu Humano liber, in linguam Gallicam versus. Pro eximio illo dono grates tibi, quas possum maximas, ago. Nondum eum legere potui; verum nunc instant feriæ meæ, quibus ejus lectionem destinavi. Materiæ enim, quæ in illo tractatur, gravitas ac varietas, quam ex capitum indice, didici, summam animi attentionem, & continuatam minimeque interruptam lectionem requirit. Itaque tempus, quo à quotidianis negotiis immunitatem habeo, illi impendam, ut tanto majore meo cum fructu eum evolvam.

Legi in novellis nostratibus, quod & D. Clericus literis tuis confirmavit, te ob ætatem ingravescentem & valetudinem minus firmam, honoratissimi muneris, ante aliquot annos tibi demandati, dimissionem obtinuisse. Equidem institutum tuum minime improbare possum, quinimo laude dignum censeo, quod extremos vitæ tuæ dies, procul à strepitu politico, quieti, studiis ac meditationibus sacris consecrare quam negotiis honestis quidem, attamen nihil ultra vitæ hujus tranquillitatem spectantibus, implicatos habere malueris. Hanc tibi quietem ex animo gratulor, Deumque precor, ut senectutem tuam eximiis, quibus vera paratur felicitas, donis magis magisque exornet, ac quicquid corpusculi viribus decedit, vivaciore mentis acie & spiritus robore compenset.

Tandem prodiit contra me Burmannorum Pietas, is libri titulus est, mole ingens, verbosus, contumeliosis plurimis declamationibus & invectivis refertus. Illi per D. Crucium, fratrem suum uterinum, à civitate Leidensi in collegium rerum maritimarum deputatum, mihi pietatis suæ exemplar tradi voluerunt. Legi illam, sed cum nausea; & nisi in me scriptus fuisset liber, lectionem absolvere non potuissem. Illi in eo summis verbis probare nituntur, parentem suum à me Spinosismi accusatum; & eum prolixe excusare contendunt. Ægerrime ferunt, parenti suo à me ascribi imprudentiam, & quod sine judicio. Spinosam secutus sit. Aiunt parentem suum hæc ex Spinosa cum judicio exscripsisse, ut mere Cartesiana; Spinosam enim in eo libro suam doctrinam nec aperte inculcâsse, nec tecte insinuâsse, sed sola Cartesii dogmata tradidisse. Verum ego non credo Cartesianos hæc quatuor pro suis agnituros. 1. Tota natura naturata non est, nisi unicum ens. 2. Possibilitas & contingentia non sunt affectiones rerum, sed intellectus nostri defectus. 3. Si homines clarè totum ordinem naturæ intelligerent, omnia æque necessaria reperirent, ac omnia illa, quæ in mathesi tractantur. 4. De extraordinaria Dei potentia, qua miracula facit, non immerito valde dubitari posse: quæ tamen omnia in illo Spinosæ libro disertis verbis reperiuntur. Sarcasmis plurimis in parallelismum inter Spinosæ & Burmanni verba ludunt; verum nihil in eo reprehendere, aut falsi arguere possunt. Ego illi libro nihil reponam, præsertim cum ob molem suam non distrahatur & à nemine legatur:

“Versiculos in me narratur scribere Cinna:

Non scribit, cujus carmina nemo legit.”

Idem mihi cum Martiale dicere licet. Addo, quod quicunque meam contra Weeyenum defensionem legerit, nova defensione non indigebit: qui eam legere non vult, illi nec decem apologis satisfecero. Vale, vir amplissime,

Amstelod.

20 Julii,

Tui amantissimus,

P. à Limborch.

Philippus à Limborch

30 Octob. 1700

Amstelod.

Joanni Locke

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

Amplissime Vir,

HAC æstate binas ad te literas dedi, quas ad manus tuas pervenisse spero. Dolerem si aberrâssent. Nunc ad te mitto vitam Episcopii, ante plures annos, uti nôsti, à me lingua Belgica scriptam, & præfixam concionibus aliquot Episcopii, quarum exemplar illo tempore ad te misi. Quoniam nunc Latino sermone prodit, à nostro Marco Teute, cum in Anglia esset versa, illius ad te duo mitto exemplaria, quorum alterum filio Dominæ Masham trades, alterum ut benigno à me recipias vultu, rogo. Videbis ibi specimen aliquod persecutionis in patria nostra, libertatis asylo institutæ; unde quomodo erga integras ecclesias, & ingenuos veritatis confessores, passim sævitum fuerit, facile colliges. Utinam & hodie omnes hanc sævitiam detestentur! verum qua nunc fruimur, quietem, non moderatioribus ecclesiastarum consiliis, sed magistratûs prudentiæ & benignitati debemus; quæ nisi igneum illorum zelum compesceret, eadem hodie, nos quæ olim majores nostros procella obrueret. Jam magnam libri tui eruditissimi partem maxima cum voluptate legi. Omnia mihi mirifice placent. Verum quoniam non tantam linguæ Gallicæ quam Latinæ cognitionem habeo, aliquando ut vim phrasium Gallicarum intelligam, atque mentem tuam distincte percipiam, bis terve quædam mihi relegenda sunt; quod lectionem mihi aliquanto tardiorem reddit; verum molestiam hanc dilucida veritatis explicatione, argumentorumque quibus eam abstruis pondere, abunde compensas. Quando ad finem pervenero, caput xxi. de la puissance, ubi prolixe de voluntate ac hominis libertate in volendo disseris, relegam: quædam enim ibi habeas nova, quæ attentum requirunt lectorem. Ego totum ubi perlegero, candide meum tibi judicium scribam. Verum vix credo in quoquam à te dissensurum, adeo omnia, quæ legi, mihi probantur. Vale, vir amplissime, & salve à me ac meis: salutem etiam officiosissimam dices D. Masham totique familiæ.

Amstelod.

30 Octob.

Tui amantissimus,

P. à Limborch.

Philippus à Limborch

18 Feb. 1701

Amstelod.

Joanni Locke

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

Amplissime Vir,

PRÆLEGIT mihi hisce diebus Guenellonus noster epistolam tuam, quæ te cum asthmate graviter conflictari nuntiabat. Equidem valetudinem tuam afflictam ex animo doleo, eamque tibi firmiorem precor. Sed non sine admiratione ex literis tuis intellexi, te binas tantum hoc anno à me accepisse; cum circa finem mensis Octobris tertias scripserim, quibus addidi duo vitæ Episcopii, à Marco Teute latinitate donatæ, exemplaria, unum tibi, alterum Francisco Cudworth Masham, una cum literis ad ipsum, quæ jamdudum tibi reddita nullus dubitabam. Fasciculus quatuor comprehendebat exemplaria, quorum reliqua duo destinata erant rev. Episcopis Salisburiensi, ac Bathoniensi & Wellensi. Doleo interim etiam epistolam aberrâsse, in qua scripsi magnam me libri tui partem legisse, omniaque maximopere mihi probari. Postea retulit mihi amicus, se Cartesii quosdam sequaces, à quibus aliquot ex prioribus capitibus lecta erant, convenisse; illis maxime displicuisse duo, quæ ego verissima duco; nullas videlicet dari ideas innatas, & animam non esse nudam cogitationem. Verum quid aliud à Cartesii sequace expectes? Alios audivi magnopere librum tuum laudantes, & sententiæ tuæ applaudentes. Ego summa delectatione illum legi, & etiamnum lectionem illius continuo. Verum quoniam non tam exactam linguæ Gallicæ cognitionem habeo, ut phraseon quarundam Gallicarum vim prima lectione assequar, præsertim in materia subtili & ardua, cogor nonnunquam, ut distincte mentem tuam percipiam, lectionem aliquoties repetere. Gratissimum foret, si librum tuum latinitate donatum conspicere quandoque daretur; tum facilius quæ scripsisti intelligerem, & fortasse de quibusdam, quæ de libertate hominis in volendo scripsisti, tecum conferrem. Valde quæ ibi scribis mihi probantur: video te terminos aliquot obscuros aut ambiguos in illa materia elucidâsse; sed nescio an ubique mentem tuam perceperim: relegam integrum caput, & si quid occurrat ad quod hæsito, ingenue ac rotunde ad te scribam, plane persuasus dilucida tua explicatione, omnem (si quæ sit) obscuritatem disparituram. Sed & ingenue tibi confiteor, mœrorem sæpe meditationes meas, quas studiis consecravi, turbare. Verum dabit Deus his quoque finem. Ego ut honesta & non inutili occupatione mœroris mei tædium diluam, incepi commentariam in Acta Apostolorum conscribere, sed noxa quadam ratione ac methodo. Criticos egerunt Grotius aliique, quorum laboribus mea diligentia nihil addere potest. Itaque omissa critica, aliam mihi interpretandi methodum præscripsi; ut ex historia apostolorum, variisque illius circumstantiis, ac præsertim eorum concionibus, religionis christianæ veritatem ac divinitatem asseram, & qua methodo apostoli contra Judæos eam adstruxerint, ostendam. In hisce explicandis prolixior paulo sum: reliqua huc non spectantia obiter tantum attingo. Quibus alia contra Judæos disputandi methodus placet, meum laborem non probatum iri, facile prævideo. Sed veritati litandum est; & apostolos duces sequi præstat, quam homines affectibus ac præjudiciis nimium indulgentes. Vale, vir amplissime. Deus pristinam tibi restituat sanitatem, ut, quoad vivis, egregiis tuis laboribus publico inservire possis. Salutant te quam officiosissime uxor mea liberique. Salutem à nobis dices Dominæ Masham totique familiæ.

Amstelod.

18 Feb.

Tui amantissimus,

P. à Limborch.

John Locke

22 Feb. 1700-1

Oates

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

Vir colendissime,

Ex ultimis tuis 18 præsentis Februarii datis, probe sentio, quam firma, quam immutabilis sit tua erga me amicitia, cum, tribus ante missis ad me silentem literis, quartas addere non dedignatus es, sine reprehensione ulla tantæ & tam criminosæ taciturnitatis. Ignoscis video, ideoque valetudinis incommoda non causabor. Penultimas tuas cum fasciculo librorum vel amissas, vel in itinere male hærentes, maxime doleo, quod crediderim te sensum tuum de libro meo, jam tum, cum scriberes, perlecto liberius explicuisse. Quod de iis, quæ de libertate hominis in volendo scripserim, aliquantum hæsitas, non miror. Totum illud argumentum in prima editione penitus omittendum censui; sed noluerunt amici, quicquid ego de rei ipsius & novitate & subtilitate contra afferrem, ne lectores, aliis assueti ratiocinationibus, non probe perspecto ubique animi mei sensu, offenderentur; & ea, quæ in isto parergo commentatus sum, vel tanquam novatoris paradoxa, vel tanquam inconsulte errantis sphalmata, negligerent, si non plane condemnarent. Nec me eventus penitus fefellit, cum plures inter amicos familiaresque meos, de hoc una subjecto, mecum seruere sermones, quam de omnibus reliquis totius libri capitibus. Fateor adhuc neminem fuisse cui scrupulum, quo detinebatur, non exemi, si modo dabatur otium sensim & pedetentim integram materiam à capite ad calcem mecum perpendendi: quod quidem rei veritati, non meæ quantulæcunque mediocritati tribuendum censeo. Quod si tibi nova recensione, ut promittis, recurrenti aliqua objicienda occurrunt, persuasum tibi sit nihil acceptius mihi fore, quam errores meos amica manu detegi, eoque ipso evelli: non enim famæ, nec opinioni, sed veritati soli litandum censeo. Quicquid demum fuerit, disputationes nostras in unam eandemque sententiam terminatum iri pro certo habeo, cum utrique unam eandemque illibatam veritatem studiose quærimus.

Gaudeo te commentarium in Acta Apostolorum meditari, & ejusmodi interpretandi methodum, quæ non hæreat in criticis observationibus & verborum cortice. Nullibi magis apparet, ut mihi videtur, scopus geniusque religionis christianæ, quam in ea historia. Quid enim magis genuinum sincerumque evangelii sensum nobis indicare possit, quam primæ illæ apostolorum prædicationes, quibus infideles, tam Gentiles quam Judæos, ad fidem Christi convertebant?

Ad priores tuas ut aliquando veniam; laudo consilium tuum quod Burmannorum Pietati minime respondendum censueris; hujusmodi vitiligantium opprobria omnino contemnenda.

Prælum nostrum in fermento est, nec quicquam pene prodire videmus præter disputationes politicas ecclesiasticasque. Quorsum tandem res evadet nescio. Quod minatur turbo video: exitum non video. Tranquillitat i quantum possum studeo. Deus optimus maximus ecclesiarum reformatarum & totius Europæ libertatem conservet: sic precatur

Tui observantissimus,

Oates, 22 Feb.

1700-1.

J. Locke.

Philippus à Limborch

30 Mart. 1701

Amstelod.

Joanni Locke

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

Amplissime vir,

NUPER Transisalani rigoris in causa religionis minime excusandi exemplum præbuere vere detestandum. Quidam minister Mennonita jam ante annos quindecim synodo suspectus fuit Socinianismi, & illius hæreseos coram ordinibus Transisalanis à ministris ecclesiæ publicæ accusatus. Itaque à muneris sui functione suspensus fuit, adeo ut integro circiter biennio ecclesia illius publico religionis exercitio caruerit. Post longam actionem, cum ministri accusationem suam probare non possent, ipse ad ecclesiam suam fuit remissus, eique injunctum, ut sibi à dogmatibus Socinianis docendis caveret, sub pœna arbitraria. Ille ante triennium libellum edidit exigui admodum pretii, quo unionem inter omnes Christianorum sectas suadet, etiam cum Socinianis: qua occasione imprudentius quædam pro Socinianis scripsit; & alicubi quædam occurrunt aculeata in gentem togatam. Libellus hic si contemptus fuisset, vix invenisset lectores: verum scis gentem illam sacram vel minima injuria facile irritari. Itaque denuo delatus fuit ad satrapam dictrictus Vollenho, à deputatis classis Vollenho, qui exhibito libello supplice petunt, ut hic homo, qui non tantum Socinianas hæreticas opiniones clam & palam docuit, sed etiam audacissime edidit, & sparsit, iisque intolerandos sarcasmos ac blasphemias admiscuit, ab ipso satrapa compellatur coram proxima synodo libellum hunc palam revocare, & pœnitentiam ob commissa testari: ut libellus hic flammis tradatur, ac in tota provincia vetetur vendi, ac supprimatur: impensæ quas classis ob hanc causam sustinere debuit ab ipso restituantur, ipseque propter crimen commissum pœna arbitraria afficiatur. Satrapa petitioni huic annuit hominemque ad synodum ablegat. Synodus illi offert quinque articulos subscribendos, quibus continebatur confessio, quod contra mandatum ordinum libellum istum edidisset, quod ipsum inobedientiæ illius pœniteret, quod omnia libelli sui exemplaria esset suppressurus; aliaque quibus ipse subscribere recusavit. Instabant aliqui ex ministris, imo obtestabantur ut subscriberet: verum ille constanter recusavit. Postea dicitur compertum fuisse, illos id adeo ardenter cupivisse, ut haberent reum confitentem, & sic propria sua confessione arbitrariæ pœnæ obnoxium. Hæc gesta sunt media æstate anni cireverse-c-sc ireverse-c-scc xc ix. Proximo Januario anni sequentis à satrapa in carcerem est conjectus, & post longam novem vel decem mensium incarcerationem tandem sententia judicis homini pauperi, tenui victu, & diuturno carceris squalore emaciato, mulcta irrogatur centum ducatorum argenteorum, qui conficiunt libras vestras stirlingas circiter triginta, nec dimittendus à carcere pronunciatur, nisi soluta pecunia. Ille cum solvendo non esset, utpote pauper, in tetrum, fœtidum, ac tenebrosum carcerem subterraneum detruditur; ubi postquam duabus hebdomadibus pane & aqua vitam toleravit, tandem aliud ipsi mandatum exhibetur mense Novembri proxime elapso, quo ipse errores libello ipsius contentos disseminare prohibetur, sub pœna si secus fecerit catastæ & exilii, sine ulla ulteriore forma processus: atque ita è carcere dimittitur. Nunc miser ad extremam inopiam redactus est: omni illius divendita supellectile, quæ tamen neutiquam explere potuit mulctam in quam condemnatus eret. Non possum excusare illius imprudentiam: verum nec possum quin detester hanc sævitiam, præsertim quando in extensione sententiæ leges imperatoriæ ex codice adferuntur, ut fulcra ac fundamenta, quibus dura hæc sententia innititur. Sic sensim ad detestandum illud inquisitionis tribunal relabimur.

Relegi magna cum attentione cap. xxi. lib. ii. tractatus tui de Intellectu Humano. Expendi voces ac phrases, quas in materia hac controversa adhibes. Puto me jam plene mentem tuam percepisse, à qua ego non dissentio. § 6, optime doces, intellectum & voluntatem non esse duas facultates revera ab anima distinctas, sed mentem ipsam humanam immediate per se ipsam intelligere & velle. Inde infers non recte voluntatem dici liberam, sed hominem: recte etiam meo judicio definis libertatem. Verum quando dicis, § 24, libertatem consistere in potentia agendi & non agendi, & quidem in eo solo: non puto id te restringere ad solas actiones externas, sed & extendere ad internas, seu cogitationes nostras; illæ enim, non minus quam actiones externæ, subjectæ sunt arbitrio nostro: idque consentaneum est iis, quæ in sequentibus capitis illius scribis. Porro jam inquiris, quod præcipuum est, quid sit illud, quod hominem ad hoc aut illud agendum movet? Ego hactenus ita me explicui; bonum jucundum, seu voluptatem esse id, quod hominem allicit, illique oppositum dolorem esse malum, quod homo aversatur; adeoque quodcunque homo vult, id ab eo considerari ut jucundum, quod vero aversatur & fuit, ut molestum. Non negas tu illud, quinimo id etiam urges, § 41, & seqq. Verum ut distinctius ostendas, qua ratione voluptas aut dolor hominem moveat, doces, § 29, & seqq. voluntatem determinari ab inquietudine, quam homo in se experitur, aut ex præsentia doloris, aut ex absentia boni, seu voluptatis, in qua vel totam, vel saltem partem suæ beatitudinis collocat; quamdiu enim homo in statu suo acquiescit, nullam illius mutationem quærit, sed solummodo quando in statu suo non acquiescit, seu quandum inquietudinem, sive ex præsentia doloris, sive ex absentia voluptatis, quam ut felicitatis suæ partem considerat, in se sentit. In his facile tibi assentior. Inde recte deducis, bonum in nobis excitare desiderium, non tamen inde sequi majus bonum semper in nobis majus desiderium excitare. Quod verissimum est, & tu recte probas. Unde porro deducis, libertatem hominis in eo consistere, quod possit suspendere impletionem cujuscunque desiderii sui, plenamque habeat libertatem unum post aliud considerandi, objecta eorum examinandi, eaque ab omni parte observandi, ac inter se comparandi, antequam se determinet ad agendum. Et hoc tecum agnosco. Inde jam infers, indifferentiam, quæ non possit determinari per ultimum judicium, quod homo sert, de bono, et malo cujus electionem sequendam credit, esse summam naturæ intelligentis imperfectionem. In Remonstrantium scriptis sæpe vox indifferentia occurrit, quando de libertate hominis agitur: verum ea nunquam à nobis hoc sensu accipitur, quod posito illo ultimo judicio, in quo proprie actus volitionis consistit, nihilominus hominis potentia agendi sit indifferens, & per voluntatem non determinetur: sed, quod ante illud voluntatis decretum homo libertatem habet se in hanc vel illam partem determinandi, & non ad unum tantum oppositorum determinatus est: accedente autem voluntatis decreto, seu volendi actu, indifferentia illa tollitur, & potentia ad agendum aut non agendum determinatur. Et hic etiam puto nos consentire. Reliqua capitis iis, quæ jam recensita sunt, magis illustrandis ac confirmandis inserviunt. Puto me hic sententiam tuam de libertate hominis recte percepisse. Nec est quod illi quicquam opponam: imo quædam distinctius, & clarioribus, quam hactenus à nostris factum est, terminis ac phrasibus posse exprimi didici. Si non bene perceperim, aut si quid omiserim, quod ut sententia tua plene percipiatur, omitti non debuit, rogo ut me erroris admoneas: nolim enim in sententiæ tuæ explicatione, quam, prout eam percepi etiam meam esse agnosco, à mente tua aberrare. Si in quibusdam dissentimus, quod ego ignoro, amice tecum conferre gestio, ut exiguus, qui forte restare posset, dissensus tollatur. Plures tecum de hoc capite contulisse non miror. Materia est intricata & diversis philosophorum ac theologorum sententiis semper agitata. Primus, meo judicio, Episcopius in tractatu de Libero Arbitrio, & contra Cameronem, eam clarius explicuit, ostenditque intellectum & voluntatem non esse duas facultates revera inter se & ab anima distinctas, uti hactenus in scholis creditum fuit, sed animam immediate per seipsam intelligere ac velle. Porro licet non iisdem tecum vocibus ac phrasibus utatur, in summa tamen rei, quantum ego percipio, est consensus. Gratias interim tibi ago, quod multa me libri tui editione docueris. Ego eum iteratò evolvere statui; secunda enim lectione multo distinctius eum intelligo. Deum precor ut diu te nobis incolumem ac prospera fruentem valetudine conservet. Uxor ac filia te salutant. Salveat quam officiosissime à me, uxore & filia, Domina Masham ejusque liberi. Vale.

Amstelod.

30 Mart.

Tui amantissimus,

P. à Limborch.

John Locke

21 Maii, 1701

Oates

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

MAGNO honori mihi esse duco, quod tu tantum lucubrationibus meis tribuas, ut in iis perlegendis bonas tuas horas locare velis: & eas tibi veritatis amatori non displicuisse gaudeo. Cum ego libertatem consistere dico, § 24. cap. xxi. lib. ii. in potentia agendi & non agendi, nequaquam id restringo ad solas actiones externas, uti constat ex § 8, 38, aliisque illius capitis locis: de hoc igitur inter nos convenit. Quando vero dicis, quod “quicquid homo vult ab eo considerari, ut jucundum,” metuo ne voluntatem cum desiderio confundas. Quod à plerisque factum video, qui hoc argumentum tractant, non sine magno veritatis, vel saltem perspicuitatis, incommodo. Desiderium fertur in jucundum, fateor; sed voluntas fertur solum in actiones nostras, & ibi terminatur. Sed quia voluntas raro agit, nisi ducente desiderio, ideo pro uno eodemque actu plerumque sumuntur, cum toto cœlo, distent, § 30, 40. Cupido enim passio est mota à bono absente. Volitio autem actus voluntatis, vel animæ, imperium excercentis in potentias hominis operatrices. Hæ duæ operationes animæ, scil. illa qua cupit aliquid, & illa qua determinat, vel imperat, aliquid agendum, nisi distinguantur probe, nihil dilucidè, ut mihi videtur, de humana voluntate statui potest: ideòque spero ignosces mihi, quod de ista loquendi forma te monitum velim, cum de summa rei à me omnino non dissentias. In usu vocis “indifferentia,” quod à vestris differam, non mirum est, cum in his scribendis nec aliorum placita secutus sum, nec vel scripta omnino consuluerim, sed quæ res ipsæ me, quantum indagatione & meditatione assequi poteram, docuerint, ea verbis quam potui aptissimis explicuerim. De terminorum igitur usu nulla inter nos erit disputatio, modo de re ipsa constet. Quamvis, ut libere dicam, ista antecedens indifferentia hominis, qua homo, ante determinationem sive decretum voluntatis, supponitur libertatem habere se determinandi ad alterutram partem oppositorum, non omnino mihi videtur spectare ad quæstionem de libertate; quæ libertas unice consistit in potentia agendi, vel non agendi, secundum determinationem voluntatis. Disputare autem, an homo, ante ultimum judicium intellectûs, libertatem habet se determinandi ad alterutrum oppositorum, mihi videtur omnino de nihilo, sive de re impossibili, disputatio. Quis enim rogaret, vel quorsum attinet rogare, an homo potest ad alterutram partem oppositorum se determinare in statu, in quo se non potest omnino determinare? Nam, ante judicium intellectûs, non potest se omnino determinare, ideoque frustra quæritur, an in illo statu libertatem habet se determinandi in alterutram, ubi in neutram omnino partem potest se determinare. Ideòque omnes illæ lites, quæ agitantur de libertate se in alterutram partem determinandi, ante judicium intellectûs, mihi videntur (ignoscas fatenti) nullo modo pertinare ad quæstionem de libertate: quæ ne supponi quidem debet, nec potest, in statu in quo manifestum est quod homo, ut agens liberum, non potest agere; cum libertas, ut dixi, consistat in sola potentia agendi, vel non agendi, consequenter & congrue ad determinationem voluntatis. Ita autem sæpe usu venit. Disputantium fervor & partium studium rebus per se claris nubem & caliginem obducunt, dum undique conquisitis laqueis alter alterum innodare & absurdis involvere conatur. Vides quam libere tecum agam, eandem à te libertatem vicissim expectans; si enim tu meæ, vel ego tuæ opinioni assentior, perinde est veritatem quærentibus, dummodo illius potior habetur sententia quæ verior, & in ea consentiamus. In aliis libri mei partibus, dum percurras, si quid minus recte dictum, vel cogitatum invenias, moneri imo & redargui à te cupio. Vale, vir optime, & me, ut facis, ama

Oates, 21 Maii,

Tui amantissimum,

J. Locke.

John Locke

1 Jun. 1701

Oates

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

EODEM die quo nuperrime ad te mane scripsi, literas tuas 27 Maii datas vesperi accepi. Vitam Episcopii summa cum voluptate perlegi. Historia placet, res gestæ plane displicent. Doleo sane reformatos tam propere mores pontificios, de quibus tam graviter questi sunt, imitatos. Sed scire juvat quod cognitum laudare non possis. Inquisitionem, quæ in Ecclesia Romana lentius succrevit, uno quasi nixu inceptam & pene perfectam hic conspicere mihi videor. An has protestantium inter se inimicitias & mutuas persecutiones jam castigaturus sit Deus, nescio: hoc saltem credo, theologorum ambitiosa dissidia, & invicem dominandi in fratres cupido, orbem reformatum antiquis hostibus denuo obruendum objecit, & in tantum periculum adduxit. Avertat Deus O. M. omen, nec ad persecutionem tam proclives animos persecutione catholica puniat. Unum est, quod in libro tuo desidero, nempe articulos illos quinque Remonstrantium, quorum tam frequens est mentio. Hos vel quod in propera lectione non observatos præterierim, vel quod eos historiæ tuæ non inseruisti, ignorare me fateor. Rogo igitur ut mihi indicare velis ubi eas legere possim; magnam enim lucem, ut mihi videtur, præbebunt causam Remonstrantium penitus cognoscere cupienti: nam iterum, credo, perlegam hanc tuam historiam. Maximas pro hoc dono gratias ago. Vive diu utilis religioni christianæ. Vale, & me ama

Oates, 1 Jun.

Tui amantissimum,

J. Locke.

Philippus à Limborch

19 Julii, 1701

Amstelod.

Joanni Locke

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

Amplissime vir,

VITAM Episcopii tibi, summi judicii viro, non displicuisse est quod mihi gratuler. Multa exteris ignota ibi esse præterita, quia nobis notissima, nullus dubito. Quinque autem articulos nostros quorum decidendorum causa synodus Dordracena convocata fuit, nulli ignotos credebam. In explicatione sententiæ Arminii, , in vita Episcopii ego eos brevi in compendio exhibui. Extant autem in Remonstrantia ordinibus Hollandiæ cireverse-c-sc ireverse-c-scc x oblata, quam reperies in epistolis præstantium virorum à me editis, no cxlv. , vel in historia quinquarticulana Petri Heilini Anglica, cap. v. . Si altera vitæ Episcopii editio aliquando prodeat, possem illi quinque illos articulos aliaque quædam non sine Episcopio gesta, aut ipsum ipsiusve consanguineos spectantia, hic illic inserere, quæ ad historiæ nostræ cognitionem penitiorem, haud exigui futura sunt momenti. Continuavit Brantius noster senior historiam usque ad finem anni cireverse-c-sc ireverse-c-scc xxiii, in qua gravis illa contra nostros persecutio exacte describitur; verum illa hactenus lucem non adspexit; & præ metu ne edatur, synodus Hollandica jam ab aliquot annis deputatis suis in mandatis dedit, ut solicite invigilent, ne illa alicubi imprimatur. Nolunt enim mysteria illa iniquitatis revelari. Utinam historiam suam continuâsset ad annum usque cireverse-c-sc ireverse-c-scc xxxii, quo persecutioni ubique ferme in patria nostra finis est impositus, nobisque palam in cœtus religiosos convenire non fuit prohibitum. Ex illius lectione deprehendere posses veritatem dicti cujusdam monachi, quod Marnixius refert in epistola ad Casparum Verheiden, inter epist. selectas à Belgis vel ad Belgas, anno 1617, à Baudio & Heinsio editas, cent. ii. epist. 51. “Haud æque diu reformatorum ollam calefactam fuisse, atque illorum quos tantopere incesserunt: videre se plane, antequam per sæculorum intervallum labatur, parem utrobique imperii ecclesiastici fore rationem.” Scripta est hæc epistola ult. Mart. 1577.

Legi, relegi, & serio expendi quæ de libertate scribis; sed non deprehendi illum inter nos esse consensum, quem, lecto illo “de Potentia” capite, credidi. Quia uterque unice veritatem quærimus, paulo distinctius terminos quibus usus sum explicabo, & si qui aptiores sint, illis lubens utar; amo enim perspicuitatem; & in veritatis inquisitione omnem verborum ambiguitatem, quantum fieri potest, vitandam judico. Putas non recte dici nos velle jucundum, illud esse desiderium, non voluntatem. Desiderium enim ferri in bonum absens; volitionem autem esse actum voluntatis vel animæ imperium exercentis in potentias hominis operatrices. Facile ego hoc discrimen admitto, & ut, perspicuitatis causa, unicuique verbo suam tribuamus significationem, utile esse existimo. Verum ego puto nos duo velle, finem & media quæ ad finem ducunt. Multa desideramus, quæ tamen non volumus. Est enim desiderium aliud completum, aliud incompletum; sicut & voluptas alia est completa, alia incompleta, quam barbaro vocabulo in scholis vocant velleïtatem, qua designamus non quid homo proprie velit, sed quid vellet. Prudentis est ex multis desiderabilius illud eligere, sibique omnium suarum actionum finem proponere, quod undequaque est perfectum, & in quo concurrunt omnes rationes, quæ rem desiderabilem faciunt. Atqui illa electio non fit sine determinatione voluntatis, qua homo discernit hoc bonum, quod omnibus aliis præferendum judicat, sibi omnium suarum actionum finem proponere. Ita ego credidi recte posse dici hominis voluntatem in bonum ferri, idque bonum semper ab ipso apprehendi, ut jucundum. Si vero credas actionem, qua ferimur in bonum illud, improprie dici voluntatem, sed debere appellari desiderium, quia fertur in bonum absens, de termino non contendam, modo de illius significatione constet. Ut ergo omnibus ambiguitas vitetur, dicamus desiderium ferri in bonum, voluntatem dirigere actiones. Sed caveamus ne quævis desideria confundamus, & desideria completa distinguamus ab incompletis, qua velleïtates, voce in scholis usitata, appellari solent. Si vero aliud aptius vocabulum indicare possis, eo lubens utar, ut omnis, quantum fieri potest, obscuritas & ambiguitas in sermone nostra vitetur.

Quod attinet vocem “indifferentia,” certum est nostros ea non raro esse in hac materia usos: verum eam non adeo deperimus, quin si commodior nobis offeratur eam repudiaturi simus: eoque magis, quia videmus philosophos Cartesianos ea sensu à nostro plane alieno uti: illis enim indifferentia est fluctuatio judicii: quando mens, ex rationum pro utraque parte æquilibrio, incerta est, quid sibi eligendum sit. Nobis vero indifferentia est vis illa animæ, qua, positis omnibus ad agendum requisitis, potest agere vel non agere. Verum, in tota hac de libertate disputatione, video sæpe ludi verbis ambiguis, aut saltem in ambiguum sensum detortis. Optandum foret omnia verba eodem significatu ab omnibus accipi; multæ inanes disceptationes & λογομαχίαι vitari possent. Nunc quoniam in significatione verborum convenire non possumus, necesse est ut quisque explicet, quo significatu unaquaque voce, de qua contenditur, utatur. Circa rem ipsam video nos dissentire. Dicis, “Ista antecedens indifferentia, qua homo ante determinationem, sive decretum voluntatis, supponitur libertatem habere se determinandi ad alterutram partem oppositorum, non omnino mihi videtur spectare ad quæstionem de libertate; quia libertas unice consistit in potentia agendi, vel non agendi, secundum determinationem voluntatis.” Mihi plane contrarium videtur, libertatem unice consistere in potentia, qua homo actionem volendi potest determinare vel non determinare: & si eam homo ante voluntatis determinationem non habet quod non sit liber, neque ullus status concipi possit, in quo liber dici queat. Quia enim voluntas actionum nostrarum domina est, easque pro arbitrio moderatur, si determinatio voluntatis non sit libera, nec in actionibus nostris ulla erit libertas, quia actiones nostræ voluntatis determinationem necessario sequuntur. Quare vix capio quid velis, cum dicis ante ultimum judicium intellectûs homo non potest se omnino determinare. Verum antequam hic sententiam meam explicem, quid per ultimum judicium intellectûs significetur, propius explicandum est, ne hic propter ambiguitatem vocis, in oratione nostra sit obscuritas. Communiter ultimum intellectus judicium vocant, quo homo discernit quid sibi faciendum sit, idque vocant ultimum judicium practicum intellectûs: verum hoc judicium non est tam actus intellectûs quam voluntatis, vel saltem actus mixtus, ad cujus complementum voluntas concurrit. Judicium autem quod solius intellectus actus est, non ulterius procedit, quam hoc oportet facere, hoc oportet omittere. Ulterius si procedat, intercedit aliqua actio voluntatis. Quæ duo tamen à multis confunduntur. Jam mea est sententia hominem, quando recte rationi consentaneè agit, semper velle, quod intellectus judicat oportere fieri: posse tamen etiam contra rationem agere, & voluntatem in contrariam partem determinare: quin &, antequam intellectus post accuratum rationum examen judicaverit quid facere oporteat, posse bruto impetu agere non quod rationi consentaneum est, sed quod concupiscentia, dictat. Hic si homo non habet libertatem se determinandi, aut non determinandi, & actionem suam suspendendi, videre nequeo, in quo libertas consistat. Eandem tuam esse putabam sententiam, idque colligebam ex § 47. capitis supra nominati, ubi inter alia ais, “Animam, quæ habet potentiam suspendendi impletionem cujuscunque desiderii sui, sicuti evidenter patet per experientiam, consequenter, etiam habere libertatem ea successive unum post alterum considerandi, eorum objecta examinandi, ea ex omni parte observandi, & inter se comparandi; & in hoc consistere libertatem hominis: omnemque erroris & vitiorum originem inde arcessis, quod præcipitemus judicium, voluntatemque nostram cito nimis determinemus, & actioni nos accingamus, antequam bene examinaverimus quid agere nos oporteat.” Hæc, aliaque quæ ibi addis, verissima esse judico; iisque plane assentior. Verum hæc cum iis, quæ epistola scribis, “quod homo, ante judicium intellectûs, se non potest omnino determinare,” conciliare non possum. Fortasse mentem tuam non bene percepi. Rogo itaque, si grave non sit, ut ostendas, qua ratione hæc inter se conciliare debeam, & distinctius quod ego non plene percepi, explices. Nulli opinioni, nedum phrasi aut voci, ita sum addictus, quin meliora monstranti cedere paratus sim: veritatem enim unice quæro, quam si invenero, de errore triumphabo.

Hæc scripseram, cum ad me exemplar Latinum tractatus tui de Intellectu Humano affertur; pro quo eximio dono, ego summas tibi habeo ac ago gratias. Statui illud à capite ad calcem perlegere, & cum elegantissima versione Gallica conferre, quæ proculdubio Latinæ nonnunquam lucem fœnerabitur: & quando integrum, tractatum perlegero, candide tibi judicium meum scribam, non quia necesse est, sed quia id à me exigis, idque ego tibi petenti me debere agnosco. Verum quantum ex Gallicæ versionis lectione percepi, me sententiæ tuæ approbatorem habebis: si vero ad quædam hæsitavero, ea tibi candide indicabo, ut pleniorem eorum explicationem ex te eliciam. Deum precor ut tibi vitam ac vires continuet, ut egregiis tuis laboribus orbi literato porro prodesse possis. Salutant te uxor ac filia. Salutem a nobis officiosissimam dices dominæ Masham totique familiæ. Vale.

Amstelod.

19 Julii,

Tui amantissimus,

P. à Limborch.

John Locke

12 Aug. 1701

Oates

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

QUOD omnis obscuritas & ambiguitas in verborum usu sit vitanda tecum plane sentio; verum liceat mihi adjicere, quod hoc sæpe non sit etiam à volentibus evitare obscuritatem. Ideæ, quæ observantur hominum mentibus, præsertim eorum, qui veritatem attentiùs quærunt, multo plures sunt quam voces cujusvis linguæ, quæ ad eas exprimendas paratæ sunt. Hinc fit, quod homines (quibus integrum non est nova vocabula, quoties opus est ad novas ideas significandas, ad libitum procudere) eadem voce, pro diversis ideis, præsertim si cognatæ sint, identidem utuntur: unde oritur non raro sermonis obscuritas & incertus sensus, quando ad præcisiones accuratas veniendum est, quo non solum audientium sed & ipsorum etiam loquentium mentes implicantur. Inter alia quæ proposui, lib. iii. cap. xi. huic malo remedia, illud mihi præcipuum videtur, sc. ut diligenter colligamus omnes simplices ideas, quæ ingrediuntur compositionem cujuslibet ideæ complexæ, cujus nomen usurpamus, easque eidem voci affixas sedulo in animo teneamus. V. g. in argumento, quod præ manibus habemus, si voluntas significat potentiam, quam homo habet incipiendi, sistendi, vel vitandi aliquam actionem mentis vel corporis sui, ut ego fusius explicui, lib. ii. cap. xxi. § 5, &c. in quo tu etiam acquiescere videris: si hæc, inquam, sit idea, quam vox voluntas significat, eamque præsentem in animo habemus, quando de voluntate loquamur, nihil certius esse potest, quam quod voluntas terminatur solummodo in actionibus nostris, nec potest ulterius extendi ad rem aliquam aliam, nec ferri in bonum remotum & absens. Adeoque si contendis voluntatem ferri in bonum, ut finem, recedis ab ea idea, quam huic voci assignavimus, aliamque substituis; unde fit quod tu & ego diversas res designamus, quando de voluntate loquimur, nec omnino possumus inter nos de voluntate disserentes quicquam proficere, donec tu ideam indices cujus apud te vox voluntas signum est, ut de sensu vocis, i. e. de re, de qua disserimus, conveniamus.

Distinctio de desiderio completo & incompleto, sive de voluntate completa & incompleta, quam affers, nihil mihi videtur argumentum tuum juvare. Sive enim aliquod sit incompletum desiderium, vel incompleta voluntas, quod sane dubito id nunquam efficiet ut sit verum, quod voluntas fertur in bonum. Dico me dubitare an aliqua potest esse incompleta volitio; voluntas enim hic, ni fallor, sumitur pro actu voluntatis, i. e. pro volitione. Volitionem inefficacem facile agnosco, ut cum paralyticus manum paralysi solutam movere velit, inefficax fateor & sine successu est ista volitio, sed non incompleta. Actus enim volendi hoc in casu æque completus est, ac olim, quando manus volitioni obsequebatur. Itidem desiderium alicujus propositi boni, quod propter majus bonum incompatibile prosequi negligimus, non est incompletum desiderium, nec incompleta voluntas, sed desiderium completum brevi terminatum, eo usque non procedens, ut nos impellat ad volendum actiones, quibus obtineri possit illud bonum, in quod ferebatur breve illud desiderium: nec incompleta dici potest voluntas, ubi nulla omnino est volitio, etiamsi scholæ velleïtatem appellare ament. Quod si breve illud desiderium eousque procedat, ut nos ad volendum aliquam actionem excitet, voluntas illa non est incompleta, sed completus actus volendi, etiamsi omissa ulteriore inefficax sit ad obtinendum bonum propositum quod cessante desiderio negligitur. In his & hujusmodi mentis actionibus adeo celeres sunt motus animi, & inter se conjuncti, ut non mirum sit, quod sæpe, uti fit, confundantur, quæ attentius consideranti distinguenda sunt, ut recte conceptus nostros formemus. Vis libere dicam, quid hac de re sentio. Homo fertur in bonum absens, sive finem. Multis simul intellectui obversantibus bonis non surbordinatis nec consistentibus, homo unum, neglectis aliis, sibi proponit ut finem, i. e. ut prosequendum; hoc facit voluntarie, adeoque voluntas fertur in illam actionem mentis, qua unum præ reliquis sibi proponit, ut finem, & in ea actione terminatur, eodem modo quo terminatur in computatione, quando vult numerare, vel in motione pedum, quando vult ambulare. Ob hanc voluntariam propositionem istius boni, ut finis, fateor non raro dicitur vulgo, quod voluntas fertur in eum finem vel in id bonum, an proprie & ut philosophicam decet ἀϰϱίϐειαν, tu judices.

Quanta sit vis consuetudinis in usu verborum, quæ irrepit subinde nobis insciis, patet, ut mihi videtur, in iis quæ in epistola tua sequuntur. In priore epistola libens & aperte mecum consentire videris, quod actiones sunt agentium sive substantiarum, & non potentiarum sive facultatum: & tamen hic usitata loquendi forma te abduci pateris, dicisque “quod voluntas est actionum nostrarum domina, easque pro arbitrio moderatur,” & similia passim, in toto illo epistolæ tuæ paragrapho; quod ni fecisses, nulla arbitror mihi tecum lis esset. Hoc non dico, quod adeo delicatulus sim, ut hujusmodi loquendi formulas nullo in loco pati possim: earum usus in sermone familiari, si recte intelligantur, non omnino vituperandus. Quando vero in disceptationibus philosophicis pro fundamentis argumentorum, quasi iis inniteretur rerum veritas, omnino rejiciendæ sunt metaphoricæ & tralatitiæ hujusmodi locutiones, ne nos in errorem inducant: resque ipsæ, uti revera sunt, propriis & non figuratis vocabulis exprimendæ: v. g. dicere, “quod voluntas sit actionum nostrarum domina, easque pro arbitrio moderatur,” & inde arguere, quod “nisi voluntas sit libera, nulla erit in homine libertas,” est, ut mihi videtur, ex vi metaphoræ illius nos in errorem conjicere. “Libertas, apud me, est potestas hominis agendi vel non agendi secundum suam voluntatem;” scilicet si homo potest agere hoc, si vult agere hoc; & abstinere, è contra, ab agendo hoc, quando vult abstinere ab agendo hoc, eo in casu liber est homo. Hanc esse veram libertatis notionem videtur mihi constare, ex iis quæ à me dicta sunt § 8. & seqq. Quæ si vera sit, inde omnino sequitur libertatem nullo modo competere voluntati, uti monstravi § 14. Imo inde sequitur, quod illa antecedens indifferentia, antedecretum voluntatis, nullo modo, ut dixi, pertinet ad quæstionem de libertate. Si enim libertas sit potentia agendi actionem, quam vult homo, & vicissim abstinendi ab eadem actione, si ab ea homo vult abstinere: quid facit, rogo, ista antecedens indifferentia ad libertatem, quæ est potentia agendi vel non agendi, consequenter ad voluntatis determinationem?

Quandoquidem vero inciderit quæstio, de ista vestra antecedente indifferentia, cui vos omnem inniti libertatem contenditis, de ea liceat mihi paulo distinctius inquirere. Hæc indifferentia definitur à te, “vis animi, qua, positis omnibus ad agendum requisitis, potest agere vel non agere.” Jam hic rogo, an intellectus, judicium, vel cogitatio, sit unum ex requisitis ad agendum?

Si dicas quod intellectus, judicium, vel cogitatio, sit unum ex requisitis ad agendum, vestra antecedens indifferentia nunquam efficiet, ut voluntas sit libera (quamvis eum in finem, ut inde adstrui possit voluntatis libertas, excogitata & introducta videtur) quia, ut dixi, aliqua actione semel intellectui proposita, voluntas non est in statu, in quo potest agere vel non agere (in quo, ut mihi videtur, consistit libertas) necessario debet agere; nec potest abstinere ab agendo, i. e. à volendo, actionem illam scilicet, vel illius omissionem. Imo vero voluntas, eo in statu, non est indifferens ad alterutram partem oppositorum, nempe actionem propositam, vel ejus omissionem, quia determinatur à præcedente intellectus judicio, actionem illam vel ejus omissionem præferente.

Si dicas quod intellectus, judicium, sive cogitatio, non sit unum ex requisitis ad agendum: videas, quæso, dum hominem hoc modo liberum reddere velis, an non agentem cæcum plane efficis; & ut liberum facias ab eo intellectum removes, sine quo nec esse, nec supponi potest libertas ulla. Ad res enim cogitatione & intellectu destitutas, nulla omnino attinet libertas. Perpende igitur, quæso, & tecum cogita, an libertas hominis recte fundari potest in ejusmodi statu, qui excludit cogitationem, redditque lapidem æque capacem libertatis; an illa indifferentia pertinere potest ad quæstionem de libertate, quæ seposita cogitatione nullum locum in subjecto relinquit libertati.

Hæc omnia ita se habent ex mea libertatis notione, quam fusius traditam invenies § 8, 13. Quod si tu alium isti voci sensum tribuas, forsan hæ omnes evanescent difficultates. Sed tunc rogandus es, ut tuam libertatis definitionem ad me mittas, si de diversis rebus, sub eodem nomine disserentes, nolumus sine fructu disputare.

Ex his, quæ supra dixi, mihi constare videtur, quod libertas nullatenus consistit in indifferentia hominis, sed solummodo in potentia agendi, vel non agendi, prout volumus. Exemplo forsan res clarior erit. Homo, v. g. amat vinum, judicat sibi bonum esse, ex voluntate sua bibit: nulla hic indifferentia est, & tamen libera prorsus est hæc actio, quia, si modo mutaverit voluntatem, potest abstinere. Contra, homo vinum nec amat, nec aversatur, nec judicat sibi bonum aut malum esse; supponamus quantamlibet hominis indifferentiam: ex voluntate abstinet à vino in carcere, ubi vinum non permittitur. Hæc actio, nempe abstinentia à potione vini, est voluntaria fateor, sed non est libera: quoniam homo ille, si mutet voluntatem, vinum tamen in eo casu bibere non potest. Vides igitur quod indifferentia potest esse sine libertate, & libertas sine indifferentia, & actio voluntaria sine utraque. Hæc me res ipsæ per se planæ docere videntur. Imo vero res ipsæ melius forsan & simplicius nos docerent multa, si scholarum subtilitas in procudendis facultatibus distinctionibus, aliisque speciosis inventis mira acuta, non obducerat sæpe rebus in se claris operosam & doctam obscuritatem.

Dicis porro, quod, “Libertas consistit in potentia, qua homo actionem volendi potest determinare, vel non determinare.” Si, per actionem volendi determinare vel non determinare, significas velle aut non velle: libertas in eo consistere non potest: quia aliqua actione homini proposita, homo non potest abstinere à volitione, debet necessario velle aut actionem illam propositam, aut abstinentiam ab ista actione; quamtumvis levis & instantanea præcedat mentis cogitatio, semper & necessario sequitur actus volendi, quo actio proposita vel eligitur vel negligitur: & ita voluntas, præcedente cogitatione, semper determinatur ad agendum, i. e. ad volendum scil. existentiam, vel non existentiam, actionis propositæ. Quod si per “potentiam, qua homo actionem volendi potest determinare, vel non determinare,” significas potentiam quicquid temere volendi, vel sine prævia cogitatione, vel contra intellectus judicium, uti sequentia verba videntur innuere, ubi dicis, “nisi determinatio voluntatis sit libera, & loqueris de bruto impetu:” libertas in hujusmodi potentia non potest consistere. Quia, ut dixi, libertas supponit cogitationem. Ubi enim nulla est cogitatio, nulla esse potest libertas, uti fusius explicui § 8. & 9. Porro libertas non potest consistere in potentia determinandi actionem volendi contra judicium intellectus, quia homo non habet hujusmodi potentiam. Actio enim volendi hoc aut illud, semper sequitur judicium intellectûs, quo homo judicat pro hic & nunc hoc esse melius. Ex quo facile est intelligere, quid velim, cum dico, ante ultimum judicium intellectûs homo non potest omnio se determinare: hocque facile conciliare possis cum iis, quæ citas ex § 47, de suspensione impletionis cujuscunque desiderii, si modo memineris, quod ante unamquamque volitionem præcedit semper judicium aliquod intellectûs de re agenda; judiciumque illud, quod immediate præcedit volitionem, sive actum volendi, est eo in casu ultimum judicium intellectûs. Quod te in diversum abripuit mihi videtur hoc esse, nempe, quod ultimum judicium intellectûs videris confundere cum maturo & recto judicio, si recte capio sensum istius sententiæ, ubi hæc verba lego: “Intellectus post accuratum rationum examen judicaverit, quid facere oporteat,” &c. Sed id non est ultimum judicium, de quo ego loquor. Loquor ego de eo judicio, quod in omni volitione immediate præcedit volitionem, quod revera est ultimum judicium, sive bene expensum sit & matura deliberatione recoctum, sive extemporaneum & subito impetu enatum, & æque voluntatem determinat, sive sit, sive non sit rationi consentaneum.

Si meum sensum in his satis recte & clare exposui, non apparebit tibi, credo, hæc telegenti tanta inter nos opinionum distantia, quantum credidisti: pro certo habeo nos, veritatem utrinque sincere quærentes, non posse diu de rebus ipsis dissentire, quanquam loquendi formulæ videantur nonnunquam in diversum abire. Sed de rebus ipsis cogitantibus facile erit phraseologiæ nebulas discutere, ex quibus fere oriuntur inter veritatis amatores omnes controversiæ.

En prolixiore epistola tibi explicationem sententiæ meæ poscenti, ut potui, morem gessi. Ignoscas, rogo, quod toties citaverim librum meum; hoc feci brevitatis causa, ne hic in epistola ea rescriberem, quæ in libro impresso melius legeres.

De duabus versionibus monere te convenit, ut sicubi inter se dissentients reperias de sensu meo ex Gallica dijudices. Illam enim mihi auctor totam perlegit, & ubi à sensu meo aberrare deprehendi, correxit. Latinam nondum mihi legere contigit. Valetudo & negotia non satis otii concesserunt. Vale, &, ut facis, me ama

Oates, 12 Aug.

Tui amantissimum,

J. Locke.

Postquam, quæ supra habentur, scripseram, mihi venit in mentem non incommodum fore, si aliquid libro meo insererem, ad elucidandam indifferentiæ naturam, in qua consistit libertas, in gratam eorum, qui indifferentiam hoc in argumento tanti faciunt, ut illa ablata vel omissa nihil recte vel clare statu de libertate posse existimant. En igitur quæ § 71. subjungenda censui. Ego Anglice scripsi: Gallice vertit D. Coste; adeoque, si probas, Gallicæ versioni libri mei inserere possis.

Liv. II. Chap. XXI. § 71, après ces mots, “par son propre jugement,” ajoutez ce qui suit.

“Je sçai que certaines gens font consister la liberté dans une certaine Indifference de l’homme, antecedente à la determination de sa volonté. Je souhaiterois que ceux qui font tant de fonds sur cette indifference antecedente, comme ils parlent, nous eussent dit nettement si cette indifference qu’ils supposent, précede la pensée & le jugement de l’entendement aussi bien que le decret de la volonté; car il est bien malaisé de la placer entre ces deux termes, je veux dire immediatement après le jugement de l’entendement, & devant la détermination de la volonté parce que la détermination de la volonté suit immediatement le jugement de l’entendement: & d’ailleurs, placer la liberté dans une indifference, qui précede la pensée & le jugement de l’ entendement, c’est, ce me semble, faire consister la liberté dans un état de tenebres, où, nous ne pouvons ni voir ni dire ce que c’est: c’est du moins la placer dans un sujet incapable de liberté, nul agent n’étant jugé capable de liberté qu’en consequence de la pensée, & du jugement qu’on reconnoit en lui. Comme je ne suis pas délicat en matiere d’expressions, je consens à dire avec ceux qui aiment à parler ainsi, que la liberté est placée dans l’indifference: mais c’est dans une sorte d’indifference qui reste aprés le jugement de l’entendement, & même aprés la determination de la volonté: ce qui n’est pas une indifference de l’homme (car aprés que l’homme a une fois jugé ce qu’il est meilleur de faire ou de ne pas faire, il n’est plus indifferent) mais une indifference des puissances actives ou operatives de l’homme, lesquelles demeurant tout autant capables d’agir ou de ne pas agir aprés, qu’avant le decret de la volonté, sont dans un état qu’on peut appeller, si l’on veut, indifference: & aussi loin que s’étend cette indifference, jusques-là l’homme est libre, & pas au delà. Par exemple, j’ai la puissance de mouvoir ma main, ou de la laisser en repos: cette faculté operative est indifferente au mouvement & au repos de ma main: je suis donc libre à cet égard. Ma volonté vient à déterminer cette puissance operative au repos, je suis encore libre, parce que l’indifference de cette puissance operative qui est en moi, d’agir ou de ne pas agir, reste encore; la puissance de mouvoir ma main n’étant nullement diminué par la determination de ma volonté, qui à present ordonne le repos; l’indifference de cette puissance à agir ou ne pas agir, est justement telle qu’elle etoit auparavant, comme il paroit si la volonté veut en faire l’epreuve en ordonnant le contraire. Mais si pendant que ma main est en repos, elle vient à être saisie d’une soudaine paralysie, l’indifference de cette puissance operative est detruite, & ma liberté avec elle: je n’ai plus de liberté à cet égard, mais je suis dans la nécessité de laisser ma main en repos. D’un autre côté, si ma main est mise en mouvement par une convulsion, l’indifference de cette faculté operative s’évanouït; & en ce cas-là ma liberté est detruite; car je me trouve dans la nécessité de laisser mouvoir ma main. J’ai ajouté ceci pour faire voir dans quelle sorte d’indifference il me paroit que la liberté consiste précisement, & qu’elle ne peut consister dans aucune autre, réelle ou imaginaire.”

Philippus à Limborch

11 Oct. 1701

Amstelod.

Joanni Locke

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

Amplissime vir,

QUOD tantum mea causa laborem susceperis, ut prolixiori epistola sententiam tuam mihi distinctius explicare non fueris gravatus, maximas tibi habeo gratias: legi, relegi, expendi epistolam tuam magna cum attentione. Quanto exactius eam expendo, tanto magis observare videor, nos tam sententiis, quam phrasibus ac loquendi modis dicrepare, & quandoque diversas ideas iisdem, nonnunquam easdem ideas diversis vocibus designare. Respondissem citius, verum consulto responsum distuli, donec integrum tuum tractatum perlegissem. Eo jam perlecto, & cum epistola tua collato, magis magisque observare videor, omnem, qui inter nos apparet dissensum, non tam circa rem ipsam, quam circa voces, ac divertam ejusdem rei explicandæ rationem occupari. Quia vero non ubique phrasium mearum sensum recte percepisse videris, & ut, quicquid fortasse adhuc inter nos restat dissensus, paucis & in compendio comprehendi possit, primo sensum vocum ac phrasium, quibus usus sum, quanta possum perspicuitate explicabo: deinde phrasibus claris & ambiguitati non obnoxiis sententiam meam quanta possum brevitate exponam. Tandem inquiram in quibus consentiamus, & quis adhuc remaneat dissensus; utrumne ille in re ipsa, an vero in vocibus ac phrasibus, & diversa rem quam inquirimus explicandi ratione consistat. Ita puto, si fortasse nondum per omnia idem sentiamus, brevi omnem dissensum sublatum iri, nec veritatem sincere eam quærentibus diu absconditam fore.

Significationem voluntatis, quod sit “potentia, quam homo habet incipiendi, sistendi, vel vitandi aliquam actionem mentis, vel corporis,” ego tecum agnosco, & ab ea non recedam: à voluntate etiam distinguo desiderium, quo ferimur in bonum absens, neque id unquam sub notione voluntatis comprehendam. Agnosco hic me minus exacte locutum, & desiderium à voluntate esse distinguendum. Quod dixi, voluntatem etiam ferri in finem, nihil aliud volui, nisi quod tu ipse in epistola tua dicis: “Multis simul intellectui obversantibus bonis non subordinatis nec consistentibus, hominem unum, neglectis aliis, sibi proponere ut finem, & ut prosequendum: hoc facit voluntarie.” Hæc ergo electio est actio voluntatis: quando hanc sibi electionem fecit homo, desiderio suo fertur in bonum illud quod sibi elegit; & voluntate sua dirigit actiones suas, quibus se bonum desideratum consecuturum credit.

Vox “libertas” mihi designat dominium, quod homo habet in actionem suam: quo nempe, positis omnibus ad agendum requisitis, potest agere & non agere: qui non est actionis suæ dominus, seu agere non potest quod vult, non est liber. Verum ego puto hoc ad omnes hominis actiones, sine ulla exceptione, extendi, tam ad internas actiones mentis, quam externas corporis, adeo ut etiam actio volendi, quæ est interna mentis actio, sit libera. Quando autem dixi voluntatem esse actionum nostrarum dominam, nihil aliud volui, nisi, actiones nostras externas dirigi à volitione nostra, adeo ut faciamus quæ volumus, & non faciamus quæ nolumus, nisi intercedat cohibitio, aut coactio: utraque enim illa libertatem destruit. Semel declaravi credere me animum, seu mentem immediate, absque ullis intermediis facultatibus, intelligere & velle: per intellectum itaque & voluntatem, quotiescunque iis vocibus utor, aliud non intelligo nisi potentiam seu facultatem ipsius animæ, qua elicit actionem intelligendi ac volendi, & quam actionem anima immediate exercet. Et hanc significationem te etiam admittere puto.

Superest ut dicam de “indifferentia.” De qua primo præmoneo, eam non esse nostram, uti tu credis, id est, à nobis inventam, aut ita à nobis adscitam, ut pro ea tanquam necessario in hac quætione usurpanda contendamus, Nihil minus. Nos diu illa voce usi non fuimus: libertatem definientes, eam ordinarie vocavimus dominium quod homo in actionem suam habet. In disputatione autem contra illos theologos, qui intellectum ac voluntatem statuunt duas esse facultates, realiter & ab anima & à se invicem distinctas, quarum una tantum intelligit, nihil autem vult, altera tantum vult, nihil autem intelligit, hanc illorum sententiam hoc argumento oppugnavimus: quod per eam aut omnis libertas tollatur, aut omnis actio hominis reddatur bruta ac irrationalis. Aut enim voluntas determinatur ab intellectu, adeo ut necessario velit quod intellectus illi præscribit: atqui tum omnis actio necessaria est, quia omnis actio intellectûs est necessaria: aut non determinatur ab intellectu, sed seipsam determinat: atqui tum omnis actio voluntatis est bruta & irrationalis; quia supponitur voluntatem nihil intelligere, sed solummodo velle. Hujus argumenti ictum ut evitent, responderunt, radicem libertatis esse in intellectu; quia in intellectu est indifferentia, qua potest quodcunque objectum, quod sibi offertur, apprehendere & dijudicare. Responderunt nostri, eam esse tantum indifferentiam passivam, qualis est in oculo, qui etiam quævis objecta sibi occurrentia potest videre, eorumque imagines recipere; quem tamen nemo propterea dixerit libere videre; quia non potest, quin quod sibi videndum proponitur videat: sicut non potest intellectus, quin quod sibi clare proponitur comprehendat; aut dubitet de eo, pro quo utrinque æque graves militant rationes. Si vero libertas quæratur in indifferentia, oportere eam esse activam, qua homo dominium habet in suam actionem. Exinde, quoniam alii vocem “indifferentiæ” adhibuerunt, nos ut omnem in disputando ambiguitatem vitaremus, distinctionis causa addidimus vocem “activæ,” diximusque libertatem consistere in indifferentia activa, eamque residere in voluntate. Vides ergo, nos non pro hac voce velle decertare, nec eam à nobis esse excogitatam: sed nos vocem ab aliis usurpatam explicuisse, & additione vocis activæ significationem illius explanatiorem reddidisse. Interim non nego, nos postea, quandoque etiam illa in scriptis nostris esse usos, quia juxta explicationem nostram accepta, commodissima visa fuit, & idem significare cum phrasi antea à nobis usurpata, dominium in actiones nostras. Idque etiam constat ex definitione hujus indifferentiæ, quam in præcedente mea epistola dedi; quod sit vis illa animi, qua positis omnibus ad agendum requisitis potest agere vel non agere: quod mihi aliud nihil est, quam quod homo dominium habet in actionem suam, ut possit, prout ipsi placuerit, vel agere, vel non agere. Itaque inter omnia ad agendum requisita vel maxime colloco intellectus judicium, quod præcedere debet; alias volendi actio mere esset irrationalis. Quando autem dico, quod “possit agere & non agere,” mens mea non est, quod simul possit agere & non agere; aut nec agere nec non agere, seu nec velle nec non velle: hoc enim contradictorium est; sed quod potentia ad neutrum sit determinata, ac proinde ex duobus oppositis possit eligere quodcunque ipsi libitum fuerit; imo ubi jam se determinavit ad agendum, quod actionem suam sistere possit, & se rursus in partem oppositam determinare. Hoc est quod dominium habet in suam actionem. Ubi hoc non potest, non est liber. Sic recte mones, eum, qui volens in carcere à vino abstinet, non libere abstinere, quia non habet facultatem vinum bibendi: nec qui volens in carcere manet, libere manere, quia non habet facultatem exeundi. Sed vero alia est ratio actionum internarum, quæ sola mente perficiuntur. Ad illarum libertatem, nihil requiritur, nisi libera determinatio voluntatis. Sic qui in carcere concupiscit alterius uxorem, eaque turpi concupiscentia se oblectat, eamque in animo fovet, libere concupiscit & peccat, licet ea concupiscentia intra solam delectationem morosam, uti scholastici loquuntur, consistat; ideoque ad ejus consummationem ipse externus adulterii actus non requiritur. Per “brutum impetum,” non intelligo actionem voluntatis sine ulla præcedente cogitatione; sic enim conciperem non hominem; sed præcipitatam actionem, ante debitum & accuratum illius examen: sicuti videmus multos homines vehementi affectu sæpe abripi, ut hoc aut illud agere velint, antequam omnes actionis circumstantia, rationesque ac argumenta, quibus ad eam incitari, aut ab ea deterreri possint, rite consideraverint. Hanc ergo tribuo libertatem homini, ut quando actio ipsi proposita est, possit vel præcipitare judicium, vel mature omnes actionis circumstantias examinare, atque ita vel bruto impetu, vel prævio, maturo, ac deliberato consilio agere: ejusque libertatis unumquemque sibi esse conscium credo. Nec hoc omittendum per “indifferentiam,” me non intelligere statum, in quo homo, quasi in æquilibrio est constitutus, nec in unam partem magis propendet, quam in alteram; talis enim status indifferentiæ circa actiones morales in nullo homine reperitur: semper in unam partem magis propendemus quam in aliam, in actionibus præsertim moralibus, prout vel affectibus agimur, aut consuetudo ac habitus nos erga virtutem aut vitia proniores reddidit: sed statum, in quo homo potentiam habet se determinandi in quamcunque oppositorum partem velit: licet enim magis sit propensus in unam partem quam in alteram, non tamen dominium in actionem suam amisit, sed in alteram partem etiam se determinare potest: Verum quia vox “indifferentia” accipi potest pro statu, quo homo in neutram partem inclinat, sed plane in æquilibrio est constitutus, licet ille sensus directæ explicationi nostræ adversetur, ad omnem vitandam amphibologiam, à voce illa abstinebo.

“Ultimum intellectûs judicium” ego non confundo cum maturo & recto judicio; sed ibi distinguo ultimum judicium, quod sit vel maturum & rectum, vel pravum & præcipitatum, quod ibi vocavi brutum impetum, quia illud magis sequitur vehementem concupiscentiam carnalem, quam ductum rationis: utrumque est ultimum judicium, quando immediate actionem volendi antecedit, & inter illud actionemque volendi nullum aliud judicium intermedium est.

Ita explicatis terminis quibus usus sum, jam quanta possum brevitate & perspicuitate sententiam meam proponam. Eam his thesibus comprehendo.

Homo est agens liberum, & habet dominium in actiones suas, illas vel faciendi, vel omittendi.

Intellectus & voluntas non sunt duæ facultates realiter ab anima hominis & à se invicem distinctæ; sed anima per suam essentiam immediate intelligit & vult.

Homo nihil vult aut facit, nisi desiderio boni, aut sensu molestiæ ex absentia boni desiderati excitatus.

Actum volendi antecedit actus intelligendi, quo homo judicium fert de actione sua.

Judicium illud vel est prudens, post adhibitum maturum rationum ab utraque parte militantium examen; vel est præcipitatum, & ab affectu magis quam ratione dictatum.

Judicium hoc, quatenus est merus intelligendi actus, non procedit ultra suasionem, hoc est eligbile, seu hoc consentaneum est eligere, hoc consentaneum est rejicere: aut inter eligibilia hoc magis, hoc minus est eligibile; inter fugienda hoc magis, hoc minus oportet fugere.

Judicium, quo homo decernit hoc est faciendum, est ipsa volitio; vel ad minimum, actus mixtus ex intellectione & volitione, & ad cujus consummationem actus volendi concurrit.

Actus intelligendi, quatenus est merus intelligendi actus, est necessarius, & nititur momento rationum ab homine perceptarum.

Actus volendi liber est, habetque homo dominium in illum, ac facultatem eum vel eliciendi, vel non eliciendi. Si quæ ergo libertas in judicio est, ea procedit non ab actu intelligendi sed volendi.

Actionum internarum, quæ sola mente perficiuntur, libertas consistit in libera mentis determinatione, qua actionem volendi vel elicere potest, vel cohibere. Ad libertatem vero actionum externarum, ad quarum consummationem concurrere debent membra externa, etiam requiritur ut homo habeat facultatem sive potentiam faciendi quod vult, et omittendi, seu non faciendi, quod non vult; sive liberum & non impeditum membrorum externorum usum.

Ita paucis explicata sententia mea, videamus nunc in quibus conveniamus, & quis inter nos supersit dissensus. Quando epistolam tuam confero cum lib. ii. cap. xxi. de potentia, videor mihi posse dicere, nos in quinque primis thesibus consentire, nec de iis inter nos ullum esse dissensum. De ultima etiam nulla est inter nos controversia, nisi forte quod tu libertatem in sola potentia faciendi quo volumus, & non faciendi quod nolumus, collocare videris, cum ego eam etiam ad ipsius voluntatis determinationem, seu volitionis actum extendam. De quo mox. Utroque etiam pollice amplector quod in epistola tua scribis, quod homo fertur in bonum absens, sive finem; & quod multis simul intellectui observantibus bonis non subordinatis nec consistentibus, homo unum, neglectis aliis, sibi proponit ut finem, id est, ut prosequendum: & hoc facit voluntarie: ideoque voluntas fertur in illam actionem mentis, qua unum præ reliquis sibi proponit, ut finem: & in ea actione terminatur: eam autem voluntatis actionem sequitur desiderium finis. Hactenus ergo consentimus. Videamus quousque in reliquis consentiamus & quis supersit dissensus.

Primo, non videmur convenire in definitione libertatis. Sic enim dicis: “Libertas apud me est potestas hominis agendi, vel non agendi, secundum suam voluntatem.” Quæ definitio mihi angusta nimis esse videtur: & si ea agnoscatur, tum certum est, libertatem nullo modo competere voluntati: sicut certum est, animam nunquam posse esse sine cogitatione, si vera sit definitio, anima est cogitatio. Imo si hæc genuina sit definitio, libertatis, fieri posset ut libertas consisteret cum summa necessitate. Ut mox ostendam. Ego autem puto libertatem esse dominium, quod homo habet in quamcunque suam actionem, eamque extendi non tantum ad actiones, quas facit secundum suam voluntatem, sed & ad ipsum volendi actum, su voltionem.

Quod sextam & septimam thesin attinet, nescio quousque in illis consentiamus, aut quis de illis inter nos sit dissensus. In postrema mea epistola idem jam affirmavi: verum tu nullam in tua epistola illius mentionem facis: itaque incertus sum quousque his mecum sentias. Mihi evidens videtur, hominem judicium suum determinare, quia vult acquiescere rationibus quas expendit: suspendere autem judicium suum, quia nondum vult acquiescere, sed rationes aut exactius expendere, aut an sint plures, quibus judicium ejus inclinare possit, inquirere. Atque ita determinationem ultimi judicii, quo homo decernit hoc est eligendum, aut faciendum, si non totam, maximam saltem partem, esse actionem volendi.

Octava thesis, qua statuo, omnem actum intellectus, quatenus merus intelligendi actus est, esse necessarium, nescio an inter nos controversa sit. Illam enim expresse asserere videris, lib. iv. cap. xiii. § 2. & cap. xx. § 16. At ea distinctius paulum explicanda est, ut pateat, an aliquis de ea sit dissensus. Hic ergo observa, quod res, quas intellectus percipit, sunt vel meræ theoreticæ, vel practicæ. Circa veritates theoreticas actio intellectus necessaria prorsus est: proposita veritate clara & evidenti, intellectus necessario assentitur seu homo necessario eam percipit, illique assensum præbet; propositis argumentis verisimilibus tantum, homo necessariò opinatur: propositis utrinque argumentis æqualis ponderis, homo, seu intellectus, necessario dubitat: omnesque hæ intelligendi actiones nituntur momento rationum ab homine perceptarum. Circa veritates practicas actio intelligendi, quatenus mera intelligendi actio est, & nulla intercedit actio volendi, etiam necessaria est: pro rationum enim momento, quas intellectus expendit, judicat quid convenientius, quid minus conveniens, quid ex usu sit facere, vel non facere. Hoc judicium ducit quidem voluntatem, verum eam non plene determinat: est enim illud imperium tantum suasionis, cui voluntas potest non obtemperare, seu homo potest aliud velle: determinatio autem procedit à voluntate, qua homo decernit hoc est faciendum, eaque determinatio fit vel juxta suasionem intellectus, & tunc est rationalis; vel fieri potest contra eam, & tunc est irrationalis, hoc esti, procedit ab affectu carnali, & suasioni intellectus neutiquam auscultat: vel etiam potest esse præceps & temeraria, ita ut maturum judicium antevertat. Hic videmur dissentire: dicis enim “hominem non habere potentiam determinandi actionem volendi contra judicium intellectus: actio enim volendi hoc, aut illud, semper sequitur judicium intellectus, quo homo judicat hoc & nunc illud esse melius.” Idem etiam videris affirmare in fine § 71. dicti capitis. Sed tamen, quando hæc confero cum definitione voluntatis in tua epistola, quod sit “potentia, quam homo habet incipiendi, sistendi, vel vitandi aliquam actionem mentis, vel corporis,” & cum § 47. cap. xxi. & aliquot anteced. & seqq. dubito, an multum dissentiamus, & an non magis diversitas sit in modo explicandi, quam in re ipsa. Omnino enim mihi videris illic agnoscere libertatem quandam in judicando. Dicis enim illic, “liberum esse menti appetitionum suarum objecta considerare, eas introspicere penitus, & utrum præponderet, trutina diligenter examinare. In hoc libertas hominis consistit:” & quæ ibi porro egregia habes. Addis mox: “indultam nobis potestatem voluntatem revocandi, à prosecutione hujus aut illius appetitionis. Hoc mihi videtur fons esse omnis libertatis,” &c. Ex. iis enim liquere videtur, libertatem etiam versari in judicio formando, imo ibi esse libertatis fontem. Unde colligo libertatem (juxta tuam explicationem) non solummodo consistere in potentia faciendi quod volumus: sed etiam ante volitionis actum, imo ante judicium de actione sua, hominem esse liberum, & libertatem suam exercere. Solummodo discrimen inter nos esset, an judicium ultimum, quo discernitur, non hoc convenit facere, sed hoc est faciendum, sit actio intelligendi mera; an vero ad id etiam concurrat actio volendi? &, an libertas resideat in actione intelligendi, an volendi? sive, an id quod in judicio, quo hominis actio determinatur, liberum est, resideat in intellectione, an volitione? Si in eo consistat discrimen, puto facile sententias nostras conciliari posse: quamvis enim mihi perspicuum videatur, libertatem residere in actione volendi, nihilque esse liberum, quin sit etiam voluntarium; non tamen hic tantopere videmur posse dissentire, quin facile ad consensum reducamur. Cum enim uterque statuamus, intellectum & voluntatem non esse duas potentias realiter ab anima, & à se invicem distinctas; sed hominem seu animam, immediate per suam essentiam intelligere ac velle; satis convenimus, quando uterque agnoscimus judicium hominis ultimum libere determinari: quando enim adest potentia faciendi quod ultimum illud judicium libere à nobis determinatum dictat, non faciendi, seu omittendi, quod ultimo illo judicio non esse faciendum decernitur, homo plena fruitur libertate; solummodo controvertitur, an illud judicium, quod homo libere format, & quo actiones ejus determinantur, sit actio intellectus an voluntatis? Si disquireretur, solummodo utra explicatio cum philosophica ἀϰϱιϐειχ melius conciliari posset, in re ipsa autem foret consensus. Si vero dicamus, omnem actionem intellectus esse necessariam, & ultimum illud judicium practicum esse merum intellectus actum, ac per illud voluntatem determinari; non video, quomodo ulla in homine reliqua sit libertas. Actiones enim omnes determinantur à voluntate, nisi homo aut cohibeatur quo minus facere possit quod vult, aut cogatur facere quod non vult; cohibitio enim & coactio, ut recte observas, repugnant libertati, & quando nostri juris sumus, semper facimus quod volumus. Si autem voluntas determinatur ab intellectu, & intellectus actio sit necessaria, omnia erunt necessaria: nam à principio necessario, hoc est, judicio intellectus, determinatur voluntas; à voluntate actiones: itaque homo ad actiones suas determinatus est; & licet potentiam habeat faciendi quod vult, & non faciendi quod non vult; potentia tamen illa, per antecedentem voluntatis determinationem ad unum determinata est. Atque sic mera in actionibus hominis regnaret necessitas. Prolixior paulo fui; sed prolixitatem, ut perspicue mentem meam explicarem, evitare vix potui. Si alicubi mentem tuam non recte, aut non plene, percepi, aut me à veritate aberrare credis, ut me libere moneas & instruas, rogo: veritatem enim unice sector. Et quoniam nunc plenius mentem meam explicui, brevius, quicquid tibi non probetur, indicare posses. Ut vero plenius sententiam nostram percipias, suaderem ut legas brevem Episcopii tractatum de Libero Arbitrio, qui extat in vol. i. part ii. . operum ejus; & epistolam illius, qua judicium suum profert de loco quodam ethices non edito; quæ est ireverse-c-sclv. inter epistolas nostras ecclesiasticas & theologicas. Reliqua libri tui mihi valde probantur, multumque me ex illius lectione profecisse gratus agnosco. Lectionem ejus repetere statui. Verum versio Gallica multum Latinæ præstat; eam ego subinde consulo, quando Latina obscurior est, sive interpretis sive typographi culpa. Quæ epistolæ tuæ inclusa sunt errata, & additamentum de indifferentia, nescio an in privatum meum usum miseris, an vero ut imprimantur. Verum ego puto se sententiam nostram de indifferentia non recte percepisse, ideoque eam in hac epistola plenius & distinctius explicui. Sed tandem manum de tabula. Vale, vir amplissime. Uxor & filia te plurimum salvere jubent. Salutem a nobis officiocissimam dices D. Masham totique familiæ.

Amstelod.

11 Oct.

Tui amantissimus,

P. à Limborch.

John Locke

19 Nov. 1701

Oates

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

GRATISSIMAM epistolam tuam, 11 Oct. datam, legi relegique, & (te auctore) perlegi Episcopii tractatum de Libero Arbitrio. Non tam magnifice de me sentio, ut audeam in tantorum virorum scriptis quicquam reprehendere; fateor tamen nonnulla & in illius dissertatione & in tua epistola occurrere, quæ, si coram tibi adessem, explicari à te peroptarem, ut melius perspicere possem, quomodo inter se & cum rei veritate consistere possint. Sed si singula, quæ in hoc argumento, in aliorum scriptis, suboriri possunt, dubia persequi velim, & pensiculatius ad trutinam revocare, in volumen abiret epistola: nec meum est aliorum opiniones convellere (quarum ignarus in scribendo nec aliorum sententiam fugi, nec autoritatem secutus sum) sed solum mea cogitata, quantam ex rebus ipsis perspicere possum, rebus ipsis conformare. Hæc causa esse potest quod, inconsultis auctoribus, & mea mecum meditatus terminis & loquendi formulis hoc in subjecto familiaribus non sum usus. Hoc mihi ignoscendum postulo. Nec Episcopii acutissimi, cujus memoria summa apud me in veneratione est, mentionem hic fecissem, nici te suasore tractatum ejus de Libero Arbitrio perlegissem, quem tuum fecisti, tuamque per omnia sententiam continere mihi notum fecisses.

Hæc à me prefanda erant, ne forsan videar aliorum scripta, qui me in hoc argumento præcesserunt, insolenter nimis negligere, vel non satis eorum autoritati tribuere: quod à meo animo, & à mea mediocritate, & est, & esse debet, remotissimum. Fateor, ego non sector nomina, sed ubique veritati litans, eamque quacunque ducit unice sequor: ideoque gratias tibi ago maximas, quod me, ubi errâsse existimas, in viam reducere conaris.

Primum & præcipuum, quod in novissima hac tua epistola culpare videris, est mea definitio libertatis, quam dicis “nimis esse angustam.” An tua laxior est quam illa, quam ego lib. ii. cap. xxi. § 8. & 12. tradidi, tum videbimus, cum tu illam proferes. Nam quod dicis “libertatem esse dominium, quod homo habet in quamcunque suam actionem,” hoc mihi non videtur esse definitio libertatis, quam nihil aliud dicit nisi hominem habere dominium in actiones suas quod habet; quod huc tantum redit, libertatem esse libertatem, quam homo habet in quamcunque suam actionem; quo evenire potest, ut nulla omnino sit hominis libertas: scis enim esse aliquos, qui negant hominem ullum in actiones suas habere dominium, sed omnia præstituto & ineluctabili duci fato. Quod si dicas te supponere hominem habere dominium in actiones suas, & in eo consistere libertatem; tunc rogo, quid sit dominium hominis in actiones suas? Dominium enim, sive sit vox tralatitia, sive ob aliquam aliam causam, mihi videtur æque, si non magis obscura quam vox Libertas ideoque non minis eget definitione. Et sic pergam rogando, donec perventum erit ad simplices ideas, ex quibus conflatur idea libertatis.

Video ex hac tua epistola, quanta sit vis consuetudinis, & qua constantia non cogitantibus etiam & invitis irrepit. Fateris & candide fateris, voluntatem esse animæ facultatem, & facultates non esse agentes: & tamen, ut alia omittam, hoc dicis, “si mea definitio libertatis agnoscatur, certum est libertatem nullo modo competere voluntati.” Voluntati enim nullo modo competere potest libertas, nisi pro agente agnoscatur. Quippe agentium solummodo est libertas. Scio te Episcopii exemplo posse teipsum excusare, qui in principio dissertationis suæ strenue rejiciens facultatem operationis, subinde tamen relabitur in argumentationes, quibus supponuntur agentes: permitte tamen ut amice moneam, nisi hoc maxime caveas, multum in hac materia tibi facesses negotium, & tenebras sæpissime tibi offundes.

Ad reliqua, de quibus dubitare videris, ne in longitudinem molemque nimiam extendatur responsio, rectius me & compendiosius satisfacturum credo, si aliquas hic illic capiti xxi. inseram explicationes, quibus animi mei sensum negligentius forsan, vel obscurius traditum, clariorem reddam, adeo ut festinanti etiam, uti fit, lectori in posterum pateat, modo quæ tradita sunt memoria tenere non dedignetur. Hæc cum tu attente perlegeris, & cum reliquis, quæ in isto capite exposui, contuleris, plene tibi satisfactum iri spero. Quod si quæ postea tibi, remanserint dubia, & aliqua restant, quæ vel obscura nimis, quorum te fugit sensus, vel parum veritati congrua, quibus assensum præbere non potes, moneas rogo, ut aut te auctore corrigam, aut ulterius explicando, veritatem, sua propria luce nitentem tibi ante oculos ponam.

Si qua sunt in epistola tua, ad quæ non satis distincte responsum à me credas, ignoscas rogo valetudini parum firmæ, quæ languidiorem me & ad scribendum minus aptum reddit. Quanquam spero ex annexis explicationibus, ex quibus mentem meam percipies, perspicuum tibi fore quid ad singulas dubitationes tuas respondi possit. Vale, vir optime, &, ut facis, me ama

Tui studiosissimum,

Oates, 19 Nov.

J. Locke.

Philippus à Limborch

3 Jan. 1702

Amstelod.

Joanni Locke

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

Vir Amplissime,

QUOD lectionem tractatus Episcopii de Libero Arbitrio tibi commendaverim, id eo fine non feci, ut viri illius auctoritate contra te utar; nihil minus: scio enim in sincera veritatis inquisitione nullam valere auctoritatem humanam, sed tantum momenta rationum, quibus veritas adstruitur. Nec ego, licet Episcopii sententiam approbem, vellem illius auctoritate constringi, ut omnia, etiam quæ, salva principali veritate, in dubium vocari possunt, admittam, nedum phrasibus ac loquendi formulis ab ipso usurpatis alligari me patiar. Sed illius legendi tibi auctor fui, ut ex illo cognosceres, nos jam a multo tempore renuntiâsse illi sententiæ, quæ statuit animam intermediis facultatibus agere; sed asseruisse tecum animam immediate per seipsam intelligere ac velle. Unde cognoscere posses, quando communem loquendi usum secuti utimur vocibus intellectus ac voluntatis, non iis non intelligere facultates realiter ab anima distinctas; sed ipsas intelligendi ac volendi actiones, quas anima immediate ex seipsa elicit. Hoc ego etiam brevioribus verbis significatum dedi, in Theologia mea Christiana, lib. ii. cap. xxiii. § 1, 2. Itaque si per incogitantiam, ex inveterata consuetudine, mihi forte exciderit voluntatem esse liberam, rogo ut id meo sensu accipias, ac si dixissem actio volendi est libera, seu homo in elicienda actione volendi est liber; ac proinde pro verbis meis, si tua libertatis definitio agnoscatur, “certum est libertatem nullo modo competere voluntati,” hæc substituas, “certum est actionem volendi neutiquam esse liberam, seu hominem non libere velle.” Gratias interim tibi ago, quod inconsideratam hanc meam locutionem mihi indicaveris: ego annitar ut in posterum omnem ambiguam locutionem vitem, & ab insolita loquendi consuetudine non abripiar; ne nulla in verbis meis sit obscuritas.

Libertatem ego definivi per dominium in actiones; quia vox dominii tibi explicatione indigere videtur, simplicius dico libertatem esse facultatem hominis actionem suam vel eliciendi, vel non eliciendi: qui alterutrum tantum potest, non est liber. Per actionem autem ego intelligo actionem quamcunque, etiam actiones internas intelligendi ac volendi: circa quascunque actiones non habet homo hanc facultatem eas vel eliciendi, vel non eliciendi, sed alterutrum tantum potest, hæ non sunt liberæ: & quia illi hanc facultatem tribuo circa actiones volendi, ideo eas liberas voco: quando hac facultate homo destitutus est, libere nec vult, nec velle potest.

Unitam facultas esset coram tecum de omnibus his disserendi, & ex ore tuo pleniorem omnium, circa quæ hæsito, explanationem audiendi; meamque sententiam, ac loquendi phrases distincte explicandi; non dubito, quin felicius totam hanc quæstionem terminare possemus. Nunc etiam circa ea, quæ explicationis gratia addidisti, hæsito, an statuas judicium illud, quo formato, non amplius in homine libertas est non volendi, sit actio mera intelligendi, eaque intelligendi actio sit libera vel necessaria: si in ea elicienda hominem liberum agnoscas, non video quis inter nos, quoad summam rei, maneat dissensus. Sed coram possemus hæc distinctius & exactius expendere; idque maxime percuperem, ut uterque in hac materia, quanta fieri potest perspicuitate, nos explicemus & difficultatibus hinc inde oborientibus occurramus. Nunc quoniam utriusque ætas id neutiquam permittit, quæ misisti, semper, quando de hac materia ago, consulam, ne aut ipse errem, aut aliis inconsiderata loquendi ratione errendi occasionem præbeam. Vale, vir amplissime. Salutant te uxor ac filia, omnesque prosperam tibi precamur valetudinem. Generoso Domino Masham gratulamur continuatam dignitatem: illi, ut & Dominæ Masham totique familiæ, ut annus hic ex voto fluat precamur.

Amstelod.

3 Jan.

Tui amantissimus,

P. à Limborch.

John Locke

28 Sept. 1702

Oates

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

DE valetudine satis constanti quod scribis, maxime lætor, & quod palpitatio illa cordis molesta amplius non fuerit, gaudeo. Quæ ad sanitatem tuendam faciunt tam recte & prudenter moderaris, ut sperem te diu ab illo aliisque morbis tutum & sospitem futurum: præcipue si dictæ mediocritati venæ sectionem, si plethoram vel sentias vel metuas, quotiescunque inde malum ingruit, addere velis.

Nunc demum, si placet, ad diu intermissa studia redeamus. Habeo jam præ manibus literas tuas 3 Januarii datas, in quibus videris mihi dubitare, an ego statuam hominem esse in volendo vel in intelligendo liberum; ita enim quæstionem tuam interpretor: etiam tu rogas, an actio volendi vel intelligendi sit libera? ad quam quæstionem sic respondeo.

Generaliter, nempe quod mea sententia homo in omni actione tam volendi quam intelligendi liber est, si ab actione illa volendi aut intelligendi potuit abstinuisse; si non, non.

Specialius, quod voluntatem, aliqui sunt casus in quibus homo non potest non velle, & in omnibus istis volendi actibus homo non est liber, quia non potest non agere. In cæteris, ubi potuit velle, vel non velle, liber est.

Quod actus intelligendi, in ista voce intelligendi suspicor latere amphiboliam; nam significare potest actionem cogitandi de aliquo subjecto, & in isto sensu homo plerumque liber est in istiusmodi actionibus intellectus. V. g. possum cogitare de peccato Adami, vel inde amovere cogitationem meam ad urbem Romam, vel ad artem bellicam præsentis sæculi. In quibus omnibus & hujusmodi aliis infinitis, liber sum, quia pro libitu meo possum de hoc vel illo cogitare, vel non cogitare; vel actus intelligendi potest sumi pro ea actione, qua percipio aliquid esse verum, & in hac actione intelligendi, v. g. quod tres anguli trianguli sunt æquales duobus rectis, homo non est liber, quia excussa demonstratione non potest non hoc intelligere. Homo potest plerumque non aperire oculos, vel non advertere aciem oculorum ad hoc vel illud objectum, verum apertis & conversis ad solem vel lunam oculis, necessario videt & splendorem & figuram quæ se offert intuitui videndam. Quod de oculis dixi ad intellectum transferre licet. Par utrinque est ratio. Sed de his hactenus. Si satisfactum tibi sit gaudeo. Sin dubia restent, utere libertate tua, ego paratus sum & in his & in omnibus, quantum in me est, tibi obtemperare.

Oates, 28 Sept.

Tui studiosissimus,

J. Locke.

Philippus à Limborch

27 Octob. 1702

Amstelod.

Joanni Locke

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

MULTIS me obruis beneficiis, quorum memoriam nulla unquam eluet ætas. Ego hactenus Dei gratia bene valeo: ante septem circiter hebdomadas plethoram mihi molestam sensi, sine tamen gravi cordis palpitatione: quare venæ sectionem adhibui, atque ita omnis illa molestia evanuit.

Quæ de libertate hominis in actione intelligendi ac volendi scribis, tecum verissima agnosco; nimirum in omnibus actionibus, à quibus homo potuit abstinuisse, esse liberum: minime vero, si abstinuisse non potuit.

Similiter, quosdam esse casus, in quibus homo non potest non velle, & non agere; quia facultate non agendi destitutus est. Sed vero in omnibus actibus obedientiæ ab ipso præstandis, & ob quos non præstitos pœnæ reus fit, liberum credo, neque quemquam posse reum pœnæ fieri, ob non præstitum actum sibi minime possibilem, aut ob præstitum sibi inevitabilem: nihil enim homini magis liberum esse debet, quam id ob quod pœnæ reus redditur.

Hominem esse liberum, ut contemplationem vel cogitationem suam ab uno objecto avertat & in aliud dirigat, atque hoc respectu in actionibus intellectus liberum dici posse, tecum agnosco. Verum hæc actio, si accurate loqui velimus, proprie est actio volendi, non intelligendi: avertit enim homo cogitationes suas ab uno objecto, & in aliud dirigit, quia non vult priores cogitationes continuare, & quia vult novas inchoare. Quod vero actionem intelligendi attinet, qua homo aliquid percipit esse verum, eam recte dicis non esse liberam: idque locum habet tam in percipiendis iis, quæ philosophi per solam intelligentiam cognosci dicunt; ut, bis duo sunt quatuor; idem non potest simul esse & non esse, &c. quam illis, quæ excussa demonstratione cognosci, optime dicis; videl. tres angulos trianguli esse æquales duobus rectis. Idem etiam locum habere censeo in aliis intelligendi actionibus, quando res est obscura aut dubia, & nullæ sunt rationes eam evidenter probantes, aut pro utraque sententia rationes sunt æqualis ponderis; tum enim homo necessario aut suspensus est, aut dubitat, aut leviter tantum assentitur, ita tamen ut falli posse se credat. Adeo ut intelligendi actio accommodata sit rationibus ac argumentis, quorum pondere in hanc aut illam partem inclinatur. Qualia plurima sunt in vita humana. Et actio illa intelligendi non mutatur, quamdiu non accedunt novæ rationes, aut rationum, quibus rei veritas innititur, clarior & evidentior perceptio. Non nego tamen in ejusmodi cognitione inevidenti fieri posse, quin & sæpius contingere, ut nulla accedente nova luce, aut magis distincta perceptione, homo aut eliciat plenum assensum, aut opinionem suam mutet: verum illa mutatio judicii aut assensus, non procedit ab actione aliqua intelligendi, sed velendi: quia nimirum homo, licet nova ratione minime illustratus, judicium suum in alteram partem inclinare vult. Scimus affectus nostros valde inclinare judicium nostrum: itaque indulgendo affectui cuipiam, qui me in alteram partem impellit, eo etiam judicium & assensum meum inclinare possum. Atque ita judicium hoc meum erit actio mixta, partim intelligendi, partem volendi: quatenus intelligendi est actio, seu rem percipit, est necessaria: verum quicquid in judicio liberum est, procedit ab actione volendi: quatenus scilicit ego rationibus allatis acquiescere volo, ut judicium feram. Qualem actionem mixtam ego etiam credo fidem nostram esse, prout explicui in Theol. mea Christ. lib. v. cap. ix. § 21, 22, 23. ibique plenius ostendo, quomodo actio intelligendi & volendi in fide christiana concurrunt: solummodo ex inveterata loquendi consuetudine, usus sum vocibus intellectus & voluntatis, quibus actiones intelligendi & volendi designo, juxta ea quæ jam declaraveram lib. ii. cap. xxiii. § 1, 2. Hæc sic distincte consideranda existimo: verum nolim ego multum contendere, utrum illa libertas etiam sit decenda inesse actioni intelligendi, dummodo constet hominem in actione illa liberum esse: & hominem libere ab una cogitatione se convertere in alteram. Distinctione tamen hac adhibita puto rem dilucidius explicari. Et sic etiam similitudo tua ab oculis desumpta plenius applicatur: quod enim homo non aperiat oculos, aut oculorum aciem non advertat, hoc facit, quia ita vult: oculi autem quando aperiuntur & in objectum diriguntur, illud quale se oculis repræsentat, necessario conspiciunt: si in debita distantia oculis objiciatur, etiam necessario distincte videtur: si nimis remotum sit, distincte videri non potest; neque homo libertatem habet procurandi ut objectum in tali distantia ipsi distincte appareat: sed si distincte contemplari velit, libertatem habet propius accedendi. In his puto nos consentire, atque ita in summa rei nullum esse dissensum, licet forsitan in modo explicandi aliqua discrepantia sit. Vale, vir amplissime, & salve ab uxore, filia, & me

Amstelod.

27 Octob.

Tui amantissimo,

P. à Limborch.

Philippus à Limborch

Jun. 21, 1704

Amstelod.

Joanni Locke

JOANNI LOCKE PHILIPPUS À LIMBORCH, S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

POSTQUAM afflicta tua valetudo, præsertim in extrema senectute, nos admodum de te solicitos habuit, tandem gratior paulo nuntius nos recreavit calore æstatis, qui tamen nunc apud nos calornem verum non excedit, te nonnihil respirare, & meliuscule te habere. Utinam firmam tibi valetudinem concedat benignum numen, ut quos vitæ tuæ adjicere dignabitur dies iis, quibus te consecrâsti, studiis impendas, & donec hujus vitæ usura frueris, doctissimis tuis lucubrationibus, orbi christiano inservire possis! Quæ tu concordiæ christianæ jecisti femina, licet nunc ab ingratis conculcentur, gratæ posteritati fructus suos ferent. Quod licet mens mihi certo præsagiat, nihilominus, quando servilia plurimorum, & pro auctoritate humana decertantia ingenia considero, ægre sperare licet, eos depositis præjudiciis & affectibus, animo puro ac sincero momenta rationum, quibus veritas nititur ponderaturos, ac uni veritati candide cessuros. Etiam reformatos, qui sese opponendo patui nullo se humana auctoritate constringi velle, aut posse, protestati sunt, nimium humanæ auctoritati tribuere, scriptaque humana majore quam par est in veneratione habere, actus singulis trienniis in patria nostra repetitus, & cujus solennem repetitionem novellæ nostrates paucas ante hebdomadas nobis retulerunt, argumentum est omni exceptione majus: cujus quoniam nunc recens memoria est, quia illius narrationem tibi non ingratam fore confido, licet res ipsa maxime displiceat, eam distinctius & cum præcipuis circumstantiis describam. Jam anno cireverse-c-sc ireverse-c-scc xxv. Ordines Generales decreverunt, ut singulis trienniis acta authentica synodi Dordracenæ, quæ Hagæ asservantur, à deputatis ordinum & ecclesiarum inspiciantur: postquam deinde anno cireverse-c-sc ireverse-c-scc xxxvii. prodiit nova bibliorum versio, jussu ejusdem synodi adornata, illius etiam exemplar, a translatoribus, & revisoribus, hunc in finem Lugdunum evocatis, ultimo correctum, quod Lugduni Batavorum asservatur, inspici solet. Redeunte itaque quolibet triennio deputati synodorum Hollandiæ Australis & Borealis cœtum convocant, ex omnium provinciarum ecclesiis, necnon ex ecclesia Walonica. Hi patres conscripti, ubi convenere, præsidi Ordinum Generalium adventum fratrum indicant: precibus à pastore loci, si cœtus membrum sit, habitis, & literis credentialibus lectis, præses & scriba eliguntur. Præcedentis cœtus acta præleguntur: exinde deputati cœtus ad Ordines Generales mittuntur, ut scriptorum synodalium visionem petant, & ut aliquos è collegio suo ad eam deputent, locum & tempus statuant, quin & per epistolam consules Lugdunenses præmoneant, & collegii regentem, unius clavis custodem, ut adsit, quando Lugdunum convenient ad inspiciendum autographa versionis. His peractis, certa à deputatis Ordinum constituta hora, comparent in Ordinum Generalium camera; primo funduntur preces, quibus Deo gratiæ aguntur, quod ecclesiam reformatam à variis erroribus purgaverit, quod synodum ipsis concesserit, cujus acta authentica in præcedente cœtu adhuc incorrupta conspexerunt; & quoniam nunc convenerunt ut ea denuo inspiciant, oratur Deus ut gratiam hanc ipsis concedat, ut integra æque ac incorrupta ab ipsis conspiciantur, perinde uti ante triennium conspecta fuere. Postquam scripta inspecta sunt, gratiæ Deo pro tanto beneficio aguntur, idque depositum denuo tutelæ divinæ committitur, ut in proximo cœtu æque sincerum atque incorruptum reperiatur prout nunc deponitur. Postridie Lugdunum proficiscuntur, et à magistratu in curiam adsciti authentica versionis inspiciunt. Hæc inspectio similibus precibus inchoatur ac finitur. Exin lauto excipiuntur convivio, in quo à præside cœtus & scriba deputatis Ordinum & magistratus Lugdunensis gratiæ aguntur. Hagam reversi in actis scribunt, scripta illis integra adhuc, & à vermibus, tinea & muribus inviolata esse reperta: atque ita cœtui finis imponitur. Hæc est illa triennalis solennitas, visioni scriptorum synodalium destinata, quam paulo distinctius, variisque circumstantiis vestitam tibi scribere volui, ut, quanta veneratione synodæ illius famosæ reliquiæ hic asserventur, cognoscas. Hæc ego excerpsi ex narratione cujusdam ministri, qui ipse cœtus illius membrum fuit, scripta inspexit, & in quorundam amicorum gratiam hanc historiolam scripto consignavit. Cui etiam consonant aliorum qui solennitati illi interfuerunt relationes. Non credo Romæ tanta cum veneratione tantisque sumptibus acta concilii Tridentini inspici. Ridenda hæc forent, si quorundum privatorum inconsiderato zelo agerentur; nunc, quia auctoritate publica fiunt, dolenda sunt. Quid Gallica synodus nuperrime contra D. Clerici versionem Gallicam Novi Testamenti ejusque notas decreverit, quam frivolæ illius sint criminationes, quam plene brevi scripto edito eas D. Clericus refutaverit, ipse tibi aut jam scripsit, aut brevi, ut credo, scripturus est. Hæc similiaque quando considero, bonæ conscientiæ studio acquiescendum, & neglectis hominum iniquorum molitionibus, veritati ac paci indefesso studio unice litandum, laborumque nostrorum benedictionem à solo Deo, qui è tenebris lucem eruere potest, expectandum esse certus sum. Illius te tutelæ commendo; illum oro, ut omnia tibi largiatur fausta ac salutaria, necnon honoratissimæ in qua vivis familiæ. Salutant te, Dominum ac Dominam Masham, una cum dignissima filia ac filio, uxor ac filia. Salutem etiam à me dices D° Coste.

Amstelod.

Jun. 21,

Tui amantissimus,

P. à Limborch.

John Locke

4 August, 1704

Oates

Joannes Locke

PHILIPPO À LIMBORCH JOANNES LOCKE, S. P. D.

Vir amplissime,

PUDET me sane tam diuturni silentii, nec ab infirma & plane fracta valetudine satis excusatum credo, etiamsi admixta etiam aliqua tui reverentia me à scribendo aliquantulum detinuit, satis ex ipso morbo desidiosum. Quorsum enim attinet te eruditioribus sermonibus aptum & commerciis literarum docto liberoque animo dignis, ægrotantis querelis, laboriosisque verbis anhelum scriptorem redolentibus fatigare? juvat tamen experiri amicitiam tuam, veterem amicum, etiamsi senio & morbo mutilum, ad sepulchrum usque prosequi. Nihil sane jucundius, nec est, quod magis animum debilem & languescentem refocillat, quam constans & vegeta amicorum benevolentia; magnum perfugium humanæ fragilitatis, in quo reperitur magna pars voluptatis, cum reliqua plane insipida sunt & frustra solicitantur. Gratissimæ igitur mihi fuerunt epistolæ tuæ benevolentiæ & amicitiæ plenæ, nec quantum ex illis solatii perceperim ex taciturnitate mea, sed ex voluptate quam profiteor judicare debes. Ea enim infirmi corporis morbus est, hoc sentientis grati & animi testimonium.

Etiamsi servilium ingeniorum, humana venerantium, exempla cumulate satis mihi obtulit longa dies, nec melior omnino mihi spes est de futuro; donec placuerit Deo optimo maximo ex misericordia sua, secundo filii sui adventu, restaurare ecclesiam; maxime tamen mihi placuit historia ista, quam in novissimis tuis perscripsisti. Actus ille triennalis, cum omni suo apparatu partim ridiculo, partim superstitioso, habet in se quod & stomachum & splenem moveat: certe cum omnibus suis circumstantiis ita graphice depictus conservari debet, etiam ubi commode fieri potest typis mandari, & in publicum prodire, ut quod privatim obtinet, oculis hominum obversetur, & pudefiant qui sic sacris illudunt, Deique nomen sacrosanctum, placitis inventisque suis, audacter præfigunt. Vitam tibi in utilitatem religioni longam validamque, & in usum familiæ & amicorum tuorum animitùs precor, uti & omnia prospera tibi tuisque. Optimam tuam fœminam filiamque, reliquosque amicos nostros, meo nomine, rogo officiosissime salutes. Hæc tota familia te tuosque salutat. Vale, vir amplissime, & me ama

Oates, 4 August,

Tui amantissimum,

J. Locke.

A COLLECTION OF SEVERAL PIECES OF MR. JOHN LOCKE.

PUBLISHED BY MR. DESMAIZEAUX,

UNDER THE DIRECTION OF ANTHONY COLLINS, ESQ.

JOHN LOCKE

MARCH 23, 1719

HUGH WROTTESLEY

TO HUGH WROTTESLEY, ESQUIRE.

SIR,

HAVING met with several of Mr. Locke’s works, which were never printed, I thought myself obliged to impart them to the public, together with some pieces of that illustrious writer, which had indeed been published before, but without his name to them, and were grown very scarce. The value you have for every thing that was written by Mr. Locke, and your esteem for some of his friends concerned in this collection, emboldens me to offer it to you; and I flatter myself that you will favour it with your acceptance.

The first piece in this collection, contains “The Fundamental Constitutions of Carolina.” You know, sir, that Charles II. made a grant of that country by letters patents, bearing date March 24th, 1663, to the duke of Albemarle, the earl of Clarendon, the earl of Craven, the lord Berkley of Stratton, the lord Ashley, sir George Carteret, sir William Berkley, and sir John Colleton; who thereupon became proprietors of that colony. My lord Ashley, afterwards so well known by the title of earl of Shaftesbury, was distinguished by an exquisite judgment, an uncommon penetration, and a deep insight into civil affairs. The other proprietors desired him to draw up the laws necessary for the establishment of their new colony; to which he the more readily consented, because he relied on the assistance of Mr. Locke, who had the good fortune to gain his friendship and confidence.

My lord Ashley well knew, that our philosopher had a peculiar right to a work of this nature. He called to his mind so many ancient philosophers, who had been legislators, and who, on this very account, had statues erected to them. And indeed, sir, if we consider on the one hand, that a philosopher makes Man his particular study, knows the reach of his mind, and the springs of his passions, in fine, his good and bad qualities; and that on the other hand, not being biassed by any motives of self-interest, he hath nothing in view but the general good of mankind; it will be granted, that nobody is better qualified than such an one, not only to civilize a barbarous people, but to prevent the inconveniences and disorders which even the most polite nations are apt to fall into. In this respect it is, that the philosopher hath the advantage over the courtier, or what we call the politician. For this latter, being accustomed to study the genius and inclinations of men for his own ends only, and to make his own advantage of them; it is impossible he should entirely overcome the force of custom, and the tyranny of prejudice, when the concerns of the public, and the welfare of society, are under deliberation. But the philosopher considers things in general, and as they really are in themselves. He examines the most difficult and important points of government, with the same accuracy, and the same disposition of mind, as his other philosophical speculations. And therefore as all his views are more extensive and impartial, they must needs be more beneficial and secure.

But though some may be of opinion, that in matters of state, the politician ought to have the preference of the philosopher, this will not in the least diminish the value of the Fundamental Constitutions of Carolina; since not only a philosopher, but a politician of the first rank, was concerned therein. No man is more capable of judging of the excellence of such constitutions, than yourself, sir, who not only have acquired a complete knowledge of our laws, but studied them as a philosopher, by looking for the motives and foundations of them, in the very nature of mankind.

For the rest, you have here those constitutions, printed from Mr. Locke’s copy, wherein are several amendments made with his own hand. He had presented it, as a work of his, to one of his friends, who was pleased to communicate it to me.

The second piece in this collection is, “A Letter from a Person of Quality, to his Friend in the Country.” It gives an account of the debates and resolutions of the house of lords, in April and May, 1675, concerning a bill, intitled, “An act to prevent the dangers, which may arise from persons disaffected to the government.” By that bill, which was brought in by the court-party, all such as enjoyed any beneficial office or employment, civil or military, to which was afterwards added, privy counsellors, justices of the peace, and members of parliament, were, under a penalty, to take the oath, and make the declaration and abhorrence following: “I A. B. do declare, that it is not lawful, upon any pretence whatsoever, to take up arms against the king; and that I do abhor that traitorous position, of taking arms by his authority against his person; or against those that are commissioned by him, in pursuance of such commission; and I do swear, that I will not, at any time, endeavour the alteration of the government, either in church or state. So help me God.”

Such of the lords as had no dependence upon the court, and were distinguished by the name of country-lords, looked upon this bill as a step the court was making to introduce arbitrary power; and they opposed it so vigorously, that the debate lasted five several days, before it was committed to a committee of the whole house; and afterwards it took up sixteen or seventeen whole days; the house sitting many times till eight or nine of the clock at night, and sometimes till midnight. However after several alterations, which they were forced to make, it passed the committee; but a contest then arising between the two houses, concerning their privileges, they were so inflamed against each other, that the king thought it adviseable to prorogue the parliament, so that the bill was never reported from the committee to the house.

The debates occasioned by that bill, failed not to make a great noise throughout the whole kingdom; and because there were but few persons duly apprized thereof, and every body spoke of it as they stood affected: my lord Shaftesbury, who was at the head of the country-party, thought it necessary to publish an exact relation of every thing that had passed upon that occasion; in order, not only to open the people’s eyes upon the secret views of the court, but to do justice to the country lords, and thereby to secure to them the continuance of the affection and attachment of such as were of the same opinion with themselves, which was the most considerable part of the nation. But though this lord had all the faculties of an orator; yet not having time to exercise himself in the art of writing, he desired Mr. Locke to draw up this relation; which he did under his lordship’s inspection, and only committed to writing what my lord Shaftesbury did in a manner dictate to him. Accordingly you will find in it a great many strokes, which could proceed from nobody but my lord Shaftesbury himself; and among others, the characters and eulogiums of such lords as had signalized themselves in the cause of public liberty.

This letter was privately printed soon afterwards; and the court was so incensed at it, that, at the next meeting of the parliament, towards the end of the year 1675, the court-party, who still kept the ascendant in the house of lords, ordered it to be burnt by the common hangman. “The particular relation of this debate, says the ingenious Mr. Marvel, which lasted many days with great eagerness on both sides, and the reasons but on one, was, in the next session, burnt by order of the lords, but the sparks of it will eternally fly in their adversaries facesa.”

This piece was grown very scarce. It is true it was inserted, in the year 1689, in the first volume of the State Tracts; but in such a manner, that it had been far better not to have reprinted it at all. And, indeed, among numbers of lesser faults, there are several whole periods left out; and many places appear to be designedly falsified. It is likely all this was occasioned by the compiler’s making use of the first printed copy that fell into his hands; without giving himself the trouble to look out for more exact ones. That I might not be guilty of the same fault, I have sought after all the editions I could possibly hear of; and have luckily met two printed in the year 1675, both pretty exact, though one is more so than the other. I have collated them with each other, and with that contained in the State Tracts. In short, that this piece might appear to the best advantage, I have taken the same care as if I had been to publish some Greek or Latin author from ancient manuscripts. And truly when a man undertakes to republish a work that is out of print, and which deserves to be made more easy to be come at, be it either ancient or modern, it is the same thing; the public is equally abused, if, instead of restoring it according to the best editions, and in the most correct manner that is possible, the editor gives it from the first copy he chances to light upon, without troubling himself whether that copy be defective or not.

The third piece in this collection consists of “Remarks upon some of Mr. Norris’s Books, wherein he asserts Father Malebranche’s Opinion, of our seeing all Things in God.” It is in a manner the sequel of a much larger discourse, printed in the year 1706, among the “Posthumous Works of Mr. Locke.” Our author had resolved to give that subject a thorough examination; and this small piece is but a sketch, containing some cursory reflections, which he had thrown together, in reading over some of Mr. Norris’s books. Accordingly, I find these words in his manucsript, written before those Remarks; “Some other thoughts, which I set down, as they came in my way, in a hasty perusal of some of Mr. Norris’s writings, to be better digested, when I shall have leisure to make an end of this argument.” And at the end of them, he hath added these words: “the finishing of these hasty thoughts must be deferred to another season.” But though this small piece is far from being perfected, it however contains many important reflections; and therefore, I was of opinion it deserved to be published; and I hope, sir, you will not disapprove my inserting it in this collection.

It is followed here by the “Elements of Natural Philosophyb.” Mr. Locke had composed, or rather dictated, these Elements for the use of a young gentleman, whose education he had very much at heart. It is an abstract or summary of whatever is most material in natural philosophy; which Mr. Locke did afterwards explain more at large to that young gentleman. The same is practised in the universities, where, you know, it is customary for the professors to dictate such abridgments, to serve for the subject and rule of their lectures. And therefore this small tract is far from being what Mr. Locke would have made it, had he written upon that matter professedly, and designed to make it a complete work.

However, as the generality of men expect every thing should be perfect, that proceeds from such a writer as Mr. Locke, and do not enter into the occasions or designs which he proposed to himself in writing; I own that some persons, very good judges, whom I have taken the liberty to consult about the impression of some pieces in this collection, were of opinion that this little treatise had better been left out, for fear every reader should not make the proper allowances, and lest the memory of Mr. Locke should suffer by it. I yielded to their opinion; and was resolved to lay that piece aside. But being informed that there were several other copies of it abroad, which it was impossible to suppress, or hinder from falling, one time or other, into the hands of the printers, maimed and disfigured, as is too often the case on such occasions; I was obliged to take other measures; and I the more easily determined to publish it, because I could give it more complete, more correct, and in better order, than can possibly be pretended to, by the copies above mentioned.

After all, I may take upon me to say, that, in its kind, this piece is no way to be despised. We wanted such a work in English; and it would not have been an easy matter to find any other person, who could have comprehended so many things in so few words, and in so clear and distinct a manner. Great use may be made of it in the instruction of young gentlemen, as it was originally designed by Mr. Locke. And persons even of riper years may improve by it; either by recalling ideas that had slipt out of their memory; or by informing themselves of several things, which were unknown to them.

To this treatise are subjoined, “Some Thoughts concerning Reading and Study for a Gentlemanc.” Mr. Locke having one day, in conversation, discoursed upon the method that a young gentleman should take in his reading, and study; one of the company was so well pleased with it, that he desired him to dictate to him the substance of what he had been speaking; which Mr. Locke immediately did. This is one of the usual conversations of Mr. Locke, reduced into writing: from whence you may judge, sir, how agreeable and advantageous it was to converse with that great man.

Mr. Locke not only points out the sciences that a gentleman ought to study, whether as a private man, or one in a public capacity; but likewise directs to such books as treat of those sciences, and which, in his opinion, are the properest for that end. As you have acquired, sir, in Italy, the most refined taste for the politer arts, and have added that study to those Mr. Locke here recommends to a gentleman; you will perhaps wonder, that he says nothing of painting, sculpture, architecture, and other arts of this kind, which make an accomplished gentleman. But I desire you would consider, that there are but few persons in possession of the means necessary for attaining this sort of knowledge; and that Mr. Locke is speaking here of what may suit the circumstances of the generality of people. Besides he was very far from imagining, that an extemporary advice, which he was giving by his fire-side, would ever be exposed to common view. However, I presume to think, that after you have perused it, you will be of opinion it was not unworthy to be made public.

But among the works of Mr. Locke, contained in this volume, I do not know that any will afford you more pleasure than his Letters. Some of them are written upon weighty subjects; and are upon that very account exceeding valuable. Others are what Mr. Locke wrote out of the country to one of his friends in London, about private business. In these one would expect nothing but what was common and customary; but a subject so simple, and vulgar in itself, changes, as it were, its very nature, when managed by Mr. Locke; and becomes something considerable and of moment, by the turn and manner in which he expresses the sentiments of affection and gratitude he hath for his friend. And indeed, though true friendship be founded upon esteem; yet we may say, if friendship goes no farther, there is something in it austere, not to say dry, and rustic. But there is a certain agreeable and complaisant way of showing this esteem, wherein consists the greatest charm of friendship; as it is what supports it, and adds force and vigour to it. Now this is Mr. Locke’s peculiar talent; and it is impossible that a person of your nice taste should not be sensibly touched with the respectful, endearing, and affectionate manner in which he writes here to his friend; and which he still repeats with new graces. It is a pattern of urbanity, politeness, and gaiety. For our old philosopher hath nothing morose, nor uneasy. Whenever he speaks of his infirmities, it is by way of pleasantry, or that he may have an opportunity of saying some obliging thing to his friend.

The last piece in this collection contains the “Rules of a Society, which met once a Week for their Improvement in useful Knowledge, aad the promoting of Truth and Christian Charity.” Mr. Locke took a delight in forming such societies, wherever he made any stay. He had established one at Amsterdam in 1687, of which Mr. Limborch, and Mr. le Clerc, were members. He settled this club at London soon after the Revolution; and drew up the rules you will find here. But his design in doing this, was not only to pass away time in an agreeable conversation of two or three hours; he had views far more solid and sublime. As there is nothing that more obstructs the advancement of truth, and the progress of real christianity, than a certain narrow spirit, which leads men to cantonise themselves, if I may so speak, and to break into small bodies, which at last grow into so many factions; Mr. Locke, zealous for the general good of mankind, would have gladly inspired them with sentiments of a higher and more extensive nature, and united those whom the spirit of prejudice or party had kept asunder. This is what continually employed his thoughts. He never loses sight of it throughout his works. Nay, it is the principal subject of them. But he did not confine himself to bare speculation; and he formed the society above mentioned with a design to render, as much as lay in his power, such a desirable union practicable. This appears from the disposition of mind he requires in those, who were to be members of it; and especially by the declaration they were obliged to subscribe, “that by their becoming of that society, they proposed to themselves an improvement in useful knowledge, and the promoting of truth and christian charity.”

But you will find, sir, the same mind, the same genius, not only in this small piece, but in all others in this collection. Mr. Locke every-where discovers a sincere love of truth, and an invincible aversion to whatever may do it the least wrong. To the quality of a great philosopher, he every-where joins that of a true christian. You see him full of love, respect, and admiration, for the christian religion. And thereby he furnishes us with the strongest presumption, that can be imagined, for the truth as well as excellency of that holy institution. For this is not the approbation of a vulgar mind, who is still fettered by the prejudices of infancy; it is the suffrage of a wit, a superior genius, who has laboured all his life to guard against error; who, in several important points, departed from the common opinion; and made christianity his study, without taking it upon trust. It is, doubtless, a great advantage, not to say an honour, for a doctrine to be embraced and countenanced by such a man. But let us return to our collection.

To make it more useful, I have added notes to illustrate certain passages, which suppose the knowledge of some facts that may be unknown to the reader, or which would not readily occur to his memory; and therefore these notes are merely historical. I pretend neither to approve nor disapprove the particulars they contain. I only act the part of an historian. There is but one of them that can be looked upon as critical; and even that is only intended to settle a matter of fact, misrepresented by a late historian. These notes are not very numerous; and I do not know but the fear of swelling them too much may have made me suppress some, which would not have been wholly useless.

As for what concerns the impression itself, in order to make it more beautiful, I have been obliged to recede, in several respects, from our usual way of printing; which, if I am allowed to speak freely, is extremely vicious. It is a matter of wonder, that in such a country as this, where there is so much encouragement for printing, there should prevail a sort of Gothic taste, which deforms our English impressions, and makes them not a little ridiculous. For can any thing be more absurd, than so many capital letters, that are not only prefixed to all noun substantives, but also often to adjectives, pronouns, particles, and even to verbs? And what shall we say of that odd mixture of italic, which, instead of helping the reader to distinguish matters the more clearly, does only perplex him; and breeds a confusion shocking to the eye? But you are not to be informed, sir, you, who every day enrich your library with books of the finest editions, that none of these faults were ever committed by the printers, who have been eminent in their art. Surely, if the authors on the one hand, and the readers on the other, would oppose this barbarism, it would be no difficult matter to restore a just taste, and a beautiful way of printing.

To the pieces already mentioned, I have prefixed the character of Mr. Locke, at the request of some of his friends; as you will see by the letter before it, which was sent to me together with that character.

These, sir, are all the pieces, which make up this volume. Why may I not, at the same time that I offer it to you, unfold to the view of the public so many perfections, which a too severe and scrupulous modesty conceals from it! Why may I not make known the rare endowments of your mind, as well as the noble and generous sentiments of your heart! But I fear I have already too much presumed upon your goodness, by prefixing your name to this discourse. And after having been so bold, as not to consult you, upon a thing which you would never have permitted; I ought to account myself very fortunate, if, on consideration of my passing over your excellent qualities in profound silence, you are pleased to forgive the freedom I have taken; and will give me leave to declare to you and all the world, how sensible I am of the friendship you honour me with, and to assure you that I shall always be, with the greatest respect,

SIR,

Your most obedient,

and most humble servant,

March 23, 1719.

DES MAIZEAUX.

A TABLE OF THE PIECES CONTAINED IN THIS COLLECTION.

THE character of Mr. Locke, by Mr. Peter Coste.

The fundamental constitutions of Carolina.

A letter from a person of quality to his friend in the country; giving an account of the debates and resolutions of the house of lords, in April and May 1675, concerning a bill, intitled, “An act to prevent the dangers which may arise from persons disaffected to the government.”

Remarks upon some of Mr. Norris’s books, wherein he asserts F. Malebranche’s opinion of “our seeing all things in God.”

aElements of natural philosophy.

aSome thoughts concerning reading and study for a gentleman.

A letter to Mr. Oldenburg, secretary to the Royal Society.

Letters to Anthony Collins, Esq.

A letter to the Rev. Mr. Richard King.

A letter to on Dr. Pococke.

Letters to the Rev. Mr. Richard King.

Rules of a society which met once a week, for their improvement in useful knowledge, and for the promoting of truth and christian charity.

THE CHARACTER OF MR. LOCKE; BY MR. PETER COSTE:

WITH A LETTER RELATING TO THAT CHARACTER, AND TO THE AUTHOR OF IT.

JOHN LOCKE

FEB. 4, 1720

LONDON

A LETTER TO MR. .

SIR,

London,

Feb. 4, 1720.

BEING informed, that you design to publish several new pieces of Mr. Locke, I here send you, at the request of some of his friends, the translation of a letter, attempting his character, and containing several passages of his life and conversation; which you are desired to prefix before that collection.

The author of that letter is Mr. Peter Coste, who has translated into French Mr. Locke’s Thoughts concerning Education, his Reasonableness of Christianity, and Vindications thereof; with his principal work, the Essay concerning Human Understanding.

Mr. Coste lived in the same family with Mr. Locke, during the seven last years of that great man’s life; whereby he had all possible opportunities to know him.

The letter was written some time after Mr. Locke’s death; and appears to be the production of a man in raptures, and struck with the highest admiration of Mr. Locke’s virtue, capacity, and of the excellency of his writings; and under the deepest affliction for the loss of a person, to whom in his life-time he had paid the most profound respect, and for whom he had constantly expressed the greatest esteem, and that even in writings, whereof Mr. Locke did not know him to be the author.

And therefore Mr. Locke’s friends judge its publication necessary, not only, as they think it contains a just character of Mr. Locke, as far as it goes; but as it is a proper vindication of him against the said Mr. Coste, who in several writings, and in his common conversation throughout France, Holland, and England, has aspersed and blackened the memory of Mr. Locke, in those very respects, wherein he was his panegyrist before.

For, they conceive, the eulogium contained in the following letter must stand good, till Mr. Coste thinks fit either to deny his own experience, or to confess, that the same things, which he then thought praise-worthy, have since changed their nature. I am,

SIR,

Your most obedient humble servant,

John Locke

Dec. 10, 1704

London

Mr. Locke

A LETTER FROM A PERSON OF QUALITY TO HIS FRIEND IN THE COUNTRY

GIVING

An Account of the Debates and Resolutions of the House of Lords, in April and May, 1675, concerning a Bill, intitled, “An Act to prevent the Dangers which may arise from Persons disaffected to the Government.”

John Locke

SIR,

THIS session being ended, and the bill of test being finished at the committee of the whole house; I can now give you a perfect account of this state masterpiece. It was first hatched (as almost all the mischiefs of the world have hitherto been) amongst the great church-men; and is a project of several years standing, but found not ministers bold enough to go through with it, until these new ones, who, wanting a better bottom to support them, betook themselves wholly to this; which is no small undertaking, if you consider it in its whole extent.

First, To make a distinct party from the rest of the nation of the high episcopal men and the old cavaliers; who are to swallow the hopes of enjoying all the power and offices of the kingdom; being also tempted by the advantage they may receive from overthrowing the act of oblivion; and not a little rejoicing to think, how valiant they should prove, if they could get any to fight the old quarrel over again, now they are possessed of the arms, forts, and ammunition of the nation.

Next, they design to have the government of the church sworn to as unalterable: and so tacitly owned to be of divine right; which, though inconsistent with the oath of supremacy, yet the churchmen easily break through all obligations whatsoever, to attain this station, the advantage of which the prelate of Rome hath sufficiently taught the world.

Then, in requital to the crown, they declare the government absolute and arbitrary; and allow monarchy, as well as episcopacy, to be jure divino, and not to be bounded or limited by any human laws.

And to secure all this, they resolve to take away the power and opportunity of parliaments to alter any thing in church or state; only leave them as an instrument to raise money, and to pass such laws as the court and church shall have a mind to; the attempt of any other, how necessary soever, must be no less a crime than perjury.

And as the top-stone of the whole fabric, a pretence shall be taken from the jealousies they themselves have raised, and a real necessity from the smallness of their party, to increase and keep up a standing army; and then in due time the cavalier and churchman will be made greater fools, but as arrant slaves as the rest of the nation.

In order to this, the first step was made in the act for regulating corporations, wisely beginning that, in those lesser governments, which they meant afterwards to introduce upon the government of the nation; and making them swear to a declaration and belief of such propositions as they themselves afterwards, upon debate, were enforced to alter, and could not justify in those words; so that many of the wealthiest, worthiest, and soberest men, are still kept out of the magistracy of those places.

The next step was in the act of militia†, which went for most of the chiefest nobility, and gentry, being obliged as lords-lieutenants, deputy-lieutenants, &c. to swear to the same declaration and belief; with the addition only of these words, “in pursuance of such military commissions;” which makes the matter rather worse than better. Yet this went down smoothly, as an oath in fashion, a testimony of loyalty; and none adventuring freely to debate the matter, the humour of the age, like a strong tide, carries wise and good men down before it. This act is of a piece; for it establisheth a standing army by a law, and swears us into a military government.

Immediately after this, followeth the act of uniformity, by which all the clergy of England are obliged to subscribe, and declare what the corporations, nobility, and gentry had before sworn; but with this additional clause of the militia act omitted. This the clergy readily complied with; for you know, that sort of men are taught rather to obey than understand; and to use that learning they have, to justify, not to examine what their superiors command. And yet that Bartholomew-day was fatal to our church and religion, in throwing out a very great number of worthy, learned, pious, and orthodox divines, who could not come up to this, and other things in that act. And it is upon this occasion worth your knowledge, that so great was the zeal in carrying on this church affair, and so blind was the obedience required, that if you compute the time of the passing this act, with the time allowed for the clergy to subscribe the book of Common Prayer thereby established; you shall plainly find it could not be printed and distributed so, as one man in forty could have seen and read the book they did so perfectly assent and consent to.

But this matter was not complete until the five-mile act passed at Oxford, wherein they take an opportunity to introduce the oath in the terms they would have it†. This was then strongly opposed by the lord treasurer Southampton, lord Wharton, lord Ashley‡, and others; not only in the concern of those poor ministers that were so severely handled, but as it was in itself a most unlawful and unjustifiable oath. However, the zeal of that time against all non-conformists easily passed the act.

This act was seconded the same session at Oxford, by another bill in the house of commons, to have imposed that oath on the whole nation. And the providence, by which it was thrown out, was very remarkable; for Mr. Peregrine Bertie, being newly chosen, was that morning introduced into the house by his brother the now earl of Lindsey, and sir Thomas Osborn, now lord treasurer, who all three gave their votes against that bill; and the numbers were so even upon the division, that their three votes carried the question against it. But we owe that right to the earl of Lindsey, and the lord treasurer, as to acknowledge that they have since made ample satisfaction for whatever offence they gave either the church or court in that vote.

Thus our church became triumphant, and continued so for divers years; the dissenting protestant being the only enemy, and therefore only persecuted; whilst the papists remained undisturbed, being by the court thought loyal, and by our great bishops not dangerous; they differing only in doctrine and fundamentals; but, as to the government of the church, that was, in their religion, in its highest exaltation.

This dominion continued unto them, until the lord Clifford, a man of a daring and ambitious spirit, made his way to the chief ministry of affairs by other and far different measures; and took the opportunity of the war with Holland, the king was then engaged in, to propose the declaration of indulgence†, that the dissenters of all sorts, as well protestants as papists, might be at rest, and so a vast number of people not be made desperate at home, while the king was engaged with so potent an enemy abroad. This was no sooner proposed, but the earl of Shaftsbury, a man as daring, but more able, (though of principles and interest diametrically opposite to the other,) presently closed with it; and perhaps the opportunity I have had, by my conversation with them both; who were men of diversion, and of free and open discourses where they had a confidence; may give you more light into both their designs, and so by consequence the aims of their parties, than you will have from any other hand.

My lord Clifford did in express terms tell me one day in private discourse: “That the king, if he would be firm to himself, might settle what religion he pleased, and carry the government to what height he would. For if men were assured in the liberty of their conscience, and undisturbed in their properties, able and upright judges made in Westminster-hall, to judge the causes of meum and tuum; and if, on the other hand, the fort of Tilbury was finished to bridle the city; the fort of Plymouth to secure the west; and arms for 20,000 in each of these; and in Hull, for the northern parts; with some addition, which might be easily and undiscernibly made to the forces now on foot; there were none that would have either will, opportunity, or power to resist.” But he added withal, “he was so sincere in the maintenance of property and liberty of conscience, that if he had his will, though he should introduce a bishop of Durham (which was the instance he then made, that see being then vacant) of another religion; yet he would not disturb any of the church beside, but suffer them to die away, and not let his change (how hasty soever he was in it) overthrow either of those principles, and therefore desired he might be thought an honest man as to his part of the declaration, for he meant it really.”

The lord Shaftsbury (with whom I had more freedom) I with great assurance asked, “What he meant by the declaration? for it seemed to me (as I then told him) that it assumed a power to repeal and suspend all our laws, to destroy the church, to overthrow the protestant religion, and to tolerate popery.” He replied, all angry, “that he wondered at my objection, there being not one of these in the case. For the king assumed no power of repealing laws, or suspending them, contrary to the will of his parliament or people; and not to argue with me at that time the power of the king’s supremacy, which was of another nature than that he had in civils, and had been exercised without exception in this very case by his father, grandfather, and queen Elizabeth, under the great seal to foreign protestants, become subjects of England; not to instance in the suspending the execution of the two acts of navigation and trade, during both this, and the last Dutch war, in the same words, and upon the same necessity, and as yet without clamour, that ever we heard; but to pass by all that, this was certain, a government could not be supposed, whether monarchical, or of any other sort, without a standing supreme, executive power, fully enabled to mitigate, or wholly to suspend, the execution of any penal law, in the intervals of the legislative power; which when assembled, there was no doubt but, wherever there lies a negative in passing of a law, there the address or sense known of either of them to the contrary (as for instance of either of our two houses of parliament in England) ought to determine that indulgence, and restore the law to its full execution. For without this, the laws were to no purpose made, if the prince could annul them at pleasure; and so on the other hand, without a power always in being, of dispensing upon occasion, was to suppose a constitution extremely imperfect and impracticable; and to cure those with a legislative power always in being, is, when considered, no other than a perfect tyranny.

“As to the church, he conceived the declaration was extremely their interest; for the narrow bottom they had placed themselves upon, and the measures they had proceeded by, so contrary to the properties and liberties of the nation, must needs, in a short time, prove fatal to them; whereas this led them into another way, to live peaceably with the dissenting and differing protestants, both at home and abroad, and so by necessary and unavoidable consequences, to become the head of them all. For that place is due to the church of England, being in favour, and of nearest approach to the most powerful prince of that religion, and so always had it in their hands to be the intercessors and procurers of the greatest good and protection that party, throughout all christendom, can receive. And thus the archbishop of Canterbury might become, not only “alterius orbis,” but “alterius regionis papa;” and all this addition of honour and power attained without the least loss, or diminution of the church; it not being intended that one living, dignity, or preferment, should be given to any but those that were strictly conformable.

“As to the protestant religion, he told me plainly, it was for the preserving of that, and that only, that he heartily joined in the declaration; for, besides that, he thought it his duty to have care, in his place and station, of those he was convinced were the people of God, and feared him; though of different persuasions. He also knew nothing else but liberty and indulgence, that could possibly (as our case stood) secure the protestant religion in England; and he begged me to consider, if the church of England should attain to a rigid, blind, and undisputed conformity, and that power of our church should come into the hands of a popish prince; which was not a thing so impossible, or remote, as not to be apprehended; whether in such a case, would not all the arms and artillery of the government of the church be turned against the present religion of it? and should not all good protestants tremble to think what bishops such a prince was like to make, and whom those bishops would condemn for heretics, and that prince might burn. Whereas if this, which is now but a declaration, might ever, by the experience of it, gain the advantage of becoming an established law; the true protestant religion would still be kept up amongst the cities, towns, and trading places, and the worthiest and soberest (if not the greatest) part of the nobility, and gentry, and people.”

As for the toleration of popery, he said, “It was a pleasant objection, since he could confidently say, that the papists had no advantage in the least, by this declaration, that they did not as fully enjoy, and with less noise, by the favour of all the bishops. It was the vanity of the lord keeper, that they were named at all; for the whole advantage was to the dissenting protestants, which were the only men disturbed before. And yet he confessed to me, that it was his opinion, and always had been, that the papists ought to have no other pressure laid upon them, but to be made incapable of office, court or arms, and to pay so much as might bring them at least to a balance with the protestants, for those chargeable offices they are liable unto.”

And concluded with this, “That he desired me seriously to weigh, whether liberty and property were likely to be maintained long, in a country like ours, where trade is so absolutely necessary to the very being, as well as prosperity of it, and in this age of the world; if articles of faith, and matters of religion, should become the only accessible ways to our civil rights.”

Thus, Sir, you have perhaps a better account of the declaration, than you can receive from any other hand; and I could have wished it a longer continuance, and better reception than it had; for the bishops took so great offence at it, that they gave the alarm of popery through the whole nation, and by their emissaries the clergy, (who, by the contexture and subordination of their government, and their being posted in every parish, have the advantage of a quick dispersing their orders, and a sudden and universal insinuation of whatever they pleased,) raised such a cry, that those good and sober men, who had really long feared the increased countenance popery had hitherto received, began to believe the bishops were in earnest; their eyes opened, though late, and therefore joined in heartily with them; so that at the next meeting of parliament, the protestants interest was run so high, as an act came up from the commons to the house of lords in favour of the dissenting protestants, and had passed the lords, but for want of time. Besides, another excellent act passed the royal assent for the excluding all papists from office; in the opposition to which, the lord treasurer Clifford fell, and yet, to prevent his ruin, this session had the speedier end. Notwithstanding, the bishops attained their ends fully; the declaration being cancelled, and the great seal being broken off from it; the parliament having passed no act in favour of the dissenters, and yet the sense of both houses sufficiently declared against all indulgence, but by act of parliament. Having got this point, they used it at first with seeming moderation. There were no general directions given for persecuting the non-conformists; but here and there some of the most confiding justices were made use of, to try how they could revive the old persecution. For as yet, the zeal raised against the papists was so great, that the worthiest, and soberest, of the episcopal party, thought it necessary to unite with the dissenting protestants, and not to divide their party, when all their forces were little enough. In this posture the session of parliament, that began October 27, 1673, found matters; which being suddenly broken up, did nothing.

The next session, which began January 7, following†, the bishops continued their zeal against the papists, and seemed to carry on, in joining with the country lords, many excellent votes, in order to a bill, as in particular, that the princes of the blood-royal should all marry protestants, and many others; but their favour to dissenting protestants was gone, and they attempted a bargain with the country lords, with whom they then joined, not to promote any thing of that nature, except the bill for taking away assent and consent, and renouncing the covenant.

This session was no sooner ended, without doing any thing, but the whole clergy were instructed to declare, that there was now no more danger of the papists. The fanatic (for so they call the dissenting protestant) is again become the only dangerous enemy; and the bishops had found a Scotch lord, and two new ministers, or rather great officers of England, who were desperate and rash enough to put their master’s business upon so narrow and weak a bottom; and the old covenanter, Lauderdale†, is become the patron of the church, and has his coach and table filled with bishops. The keeper‡, and the treasurer, are of a just size to this affair; for it is a certain rule with the churchmen, to endure (as seldom as they can) in business, men abler than themselves. But his grace of Scotland was least to be excused, of the three; for having fallen from presbytery, protestant religion, and all principles of public good, and private friendship; and become the slave of Clifford, to carry on the ruin of all that he had professed to support; does now also quit even Clifford’s generous principles, and betake himself to a sort of men that never forgive any man the having once been in the right; and such men, who would do the worst of things by the worst of means, enslave their country, and betray them, under the mask of religion, which they have the public pay for, and the charge of; so seething the kid in the mother’s milk. Our statesmen and bishops being now as well agreed, as in old Laud’s time, on the same principles, with the same passion to attain their end; they, in the first place, give orders to the judges, in all their circuits, to quicken the execution of the laws against dissenters; a new declaration is published directly contrary to the former; most in words against the papists, but in the sense, and in the close, did fully serve against both; and, in the execution, it was plain who were meant. A commission, besides, comes down, directed to the principal gentlemen of each county, to seize the estates of both papists and fanatics, mentioned in a list annexed; wherein, by great misfortune, or skill, the names of papists of best quality and fortune (and so best known) were mistaken, and the commission rendered ineffectual as to them.

Besides this, the great ministers of state did, in their common public talk, assure the party, that all the places of profit, command, and trust, should only be given to the old cavaliers; no man that had served, or been of the contrary party, should be left in any of them. And a direction is issued to the great ministers before mentioned, and six or seven of the bishops, to meet at Lambeth-house, who were, like the lords of the articles in Scotland, to prepare their complete model for the ensuing session of parliament.

And now comes this memorable session of April 13, 1675, than which never any came with more expectation of the court, or dread and apprehension of the people. The officers, court-lords, and bishops, were clearly the major vote in the lords house; and they assured themselves to have the commons as much at their dispose, when they reckoned the number of the courtiers, officers, pensioners, increased by the addition of the church and cavalier party; besides the address they had made to men of the best quality there, by hopes of honour, great employment, and such things as would take. In a word, the French king’s ministers, who are the great chapmen of the world, did not out-do ours, at this time, and yet the over-ruling hand of God has blown upon their politics, and the nation is escaped this session, like a bird out of the snare of the fowler.

In this session, the bishops wholly laid aside their zeal against popery. The committee of the whole house for religion, which the country lords had caused to be set up again by the example of the former sessions, could hardly get, at any time, a day appointed for their sitting; and the main thing designed for a bill voted in the former session, viz. the marrying our princes to none but protestants, was rejected, and carried in the negative, by the unanimous votes of the bishops bench; for I must acquaint you, that our great prelates were so near an infallibility, that they were always found in this session of one mind in the lords house; yet the lay lords, not understanding from how excellent a principle this proceeded, commonly called them, for that reason, the dead weight. And they really proved so, in the following business; for the third day of this sessions, this bill of the test was brought into the lords house by the earl of Lindsey, lord high-chamberlain, a person of great quality, but in this imposed upon; and received its first reading, and appointment for the second, without much opposition; the country lords being desirous to observe what weight they put upon it, or how they designed to manage it.

At the second reading, the lord-keeper, and some other of the court-lords, recommended the bill to the house in set and elaborate speeches, the keeper calling it a moderate security to the church and crown; and that no honest man could refuse it; and whosoever did, gave great suspicion of dangerous and anti-monarchical principles. The other lords declaimed very much upon the rebellion of the late times; the great number of fanatics; the dangerous principles of rebellion still remaining; carrying the discourse on, as if they meant to trample down the act of oblivion, and all those whose securities depended on it. But the earl of Shaftsbury, and some other of the country lords, earnestly prest that the bill might be laid aside, and that they might not be engaged in the debate of it; or else that freedom they should be forced to use in the necessary defence of their opinion, and the preserving of their laws, rights, and liberties, which this bill would overthrow, might not be misconstrued. For there are many things that must be spoken upon the debate, both concerning church and state, that it was well known they had no mind to hear. Notwithstanding this, the great officers and bishops called out for the question of referring the bill to a committee; but the earl of Shaftsbury, a man of great abilities and knowledge in affairs, and one that, in all this variety of changes of this last age, was never known to be either bought or frighted out of his public principles, at large opened the mischievous and ill designs, and consequences of the bill; which, as it was brought in, required all officers of church and state, and all members of both houses of parliament, to take this oath following:

“I A. B. do declare, that it is not lawful, upon any pretence whatsoever, to take up arms against the king; and that I do abhor that traitorous position of taking arms by his authority, against his person, or against those that are commissioned by him in pursuance of such commission; and I do swear that I will not at any time endeavour the alteration of the government, either in church or state. So help me God.”

The earl of Shaftsbury, and other lords, spake with such convincing reason, that all the lords, who were at liberty from court engagements, resolved to oppose, to the uttermost, a bill of so dangerous consequence; and the debate lasted five several days before it was committed to a committee of the whole house; which hardly ever happened to any bill before. All this, and the following debates, were managed chiefly by the lords, whose names you will find to the following protestations; the first whereof was as followeth:

“We whose names are under-written, being peers of this realm, do, according to our rights, and the ancient usage of parliaments, declare, that the question having been put whether the bill, entitled, “An act to prevent the dangers which may arise from persons disaffected to the government,” doth so far intrench upon the privileges of this house, that it ought therefore to be cast out; it being resolved in the negative, we do humbly conceive, that any bill, which imposeth an oath upon the peers with a penalty, as this doth, that upon the refusal of that oath, they shall be made incapable of sitting and voting in this house; as it is a thing unprecedented in former times, so is it, in our humble opinion, the highest invasion of the liberties and privileges of the peerage, that possibly may be, and most destructive of the freedom which they ought to enjoy as members of parliament; because the privilege of sitting and voting in parliament is an honour they have by birth, and a right so inherent in them, and inseparable from them, as that nothing can take it away, but what by the law of the land must withal take away their lives, and corrupt their blood; upon which ground we do here enter our dissent from that vote, and our protestation against it:

BUCKINGHAM

WINCHESTER

BRIDGEWATER

SALISBURY

BEDFORD

MOHUN

DORSET

STAMFORD

AILSBURY

HALLIFAX

BRISTOL

DE LA MER

DENBIGH

EURE

PAGITT

SHAFTSBURY

HOLLES

CLARENDON

PETER

GREY ROLL

HOWARD of BERKS

SAY and SEAL

WHARTON.”

The next protestation was against the vote of committing the bill, in the words following:

“The question being put, whether the bill, entitled, An act to prevent the dangers which may arise from persons disaffected to the government,” should be committed; it being carried in the affirmative, and we, after several days debate, being in no measure satisfied, but still apprehending that this bill doth not only subvert the privileges and birth-right of the peers, by imposing an oath upon them with the penalty of losing their places in parliament, but also, as we humbly conceive, strike at the very root of government; it being necessary to all government to have freedom of votes and debates in those who have power to alter and make laws; and besides, the express words of this bill obliging every man to abjure all endeavours to alter the government in the church, without regard to any thing that rules of prudence in the government, or christian compassion to protestant dissenters, or the necessity of affairs at any time, shall or may require; upon these considerations, we humbly consider it to be of dangerous consequence to have any bill of this nature so much as committed, and do enter our dissents from that vote, and protestation against it:

BUCKINGHAM

CLARENDON

WINTON

STAMFORD

SALISBURY

SHAFTSBURY

DENBIGH

WHARTON

BRISTOL

MOHUN

HOWARD of BERKS

DE LA MER.”

Which protestation was no sooner entered and subscribed the next day, but the great officers and bishops raised a storm against the lords that had subscribed it; endeavouring not only some severe proceedings against their persons, if they had found the house would have born it, but also to have taken away the very liberty of entering protestations with reasons. But that was defended with so great ability, learning, and reason, by the Lord Holles, that they quitted the attempt; and the debate ran for some hours, either wholly to raze the protestation out of the books, or at least some part of it; the expression of “christian compassion to protestant dissenters,” being that which gave them most offence. But both these ways were so disagreeable to the honour and privilege of the house, and the latter to common sense and right; that they despaired of carrying it, and contented themselves with having voted, “that the reasons given, in the said protestation, did reflect upon the honour of the house, and were of dangerous consequence.” And I cannot here forbear to mention the worth and honour of that noble lord Holles, suitable to all his former life; that whilst the debate was at the height, and the protesting lords in danger of the Tower, he begged the house to give him leave to put his name to that protest, and take his fortune with those lords, because his sickness had forced him out of the house, the day before; so that, not being at the question, he could not, by the rules of the house sign it. This vote against those twelve lords begat the next day the following protestation, signed by one and twenty:

“Whereas it is the undoubted privilege of each peer in parliament, when a question is past contrary to his vote and judgment, to enter his protestation against it; and that, in pursuance thereof, the bill, entitled, An act to prevent the dangers which may arise from persons disaffected to the government,” being conceived by some lords to be of so dangerous a nature, as that it was not fit to receive the countenance of a commitment; those lords did protest against the commitment of the said bill; and, the house having taken exceptions at some expressions in their protestation, those lords, who were present at the debate, did all of them severally and voluntarily declare, that they had no intention to reflect upon any member, much less upon the whole house; which, as is humbly conceived, was more than in strictness did consist with that absolute freedom of protesting, which is inseparable from every member of this house, and was done by them merely out of their great respect to the house, and their earnest desire to give all satisfaction concerning themselves, and the clearness of their intentions; yet the house, not satisfied with this their declaration, but proceeding to a vote, “That the reasons given in the said protestation do reflect upon the honour of the house, and are of dangerous consequence; which is, in our humble opinion, a great discountenancing of the very liberty of protesting; we, whose names are underwritten, conceive ourselves and the whole house of peers extremely concerned that this great wound should be given (as we humbly apprehend) to so essential a privilege of the whole peerage of this realm, as their liberty of protesting; do now (according to our unquestionable right) make use of the same liberty to enter this our dissent from, and protestation against, the said vote:

BUCKS

DENBIGH

WINTON

BERKS

BEDFORD

CLARENDON

DORSET

AILSBURY

SALISBURY

SHAFTSBURY

BRIDGEWATER

SAY and SEAL

HALLIFAX

MOHUN

AUDLEY

HOLLES

FITZWALTER

DE LA MER

EURE

GREY ROLL.”

WHARTON

After this bill being committed to a committee of the whole house, the first thing insisted upon by the lords, against the bill, was, that there ought to be passed some previous votes to secure the rights of peerage, and privilege of parliament, before they entered upon the debate or amendments of such a bill as this. And at last two previous votes were obtained, which I need not here set down, because the next protestation had them both in terminis;

“Whereas upon the debate on the bill, entitled, An act to prevent the dangers which may arise from persons disaffected to the government,” it was ordered by the house of peers, the 30th of April last, that no oath should be imposed, by any bill or otherwise, upon the peers, with a penalty, in case of refusal, to lose their places, or votes in parliament, or liberty to debate therein: and whereas also, upon debate of the same, it was ordered, the third of this instant May, that there shall be nothing in this bill, which shall extend to deprive either of the houses of parliament, or any of their members, of their just, ancient freedom and privilege of debating any matter or business, which shall be propounded or debated in either of the said houses, or at any conference or committee of both, or either of the said houses of parliament; or touching the repeal, or alteration of any old, or preparing any new laws; or the redressing any public grievance; but that the said members of either of the said houses, and the assistants of the house of peers, and every of them, shall have the same freedom of speech, and all other privileges whatsoever, as they had before the making of this act; both which orders were passed as previous directions, unto the committee of the whole house, to whom the said bill was committed, to the end that nothing should remain in the said bill, which might any ways tend towards the depriving of either of the houses of parliament, or any of their members, of their ancient freedom of debates, or votes, or other privileges whatsoever; yet the house being pleased, upon the report from the committee, to pass a vote, That all persons who have, or shall have right to sit and vote in either house of parliament, should be added to the first enacted clause in the said bill, whereby an oath is to be imposed upon them as members of either house; which vote, we whose names are underwritten, being peers of the realm, do humbly conceive, is not agreeable to the said two previous orders; and it having been humbly offered and insisted upon by divers of us, that the proviso in the late act, entitled, “An act for preventing dangers that may happen from popish recusants,” might be added to the bill depending, whereby the peerage of every peer of this realm, and all their privileges, might be preserved in this bill, as fully as in the said late act; yet the house not pleasing to admit of the said proviso, but proceeding to the passing of the said vote; we do humbly, upon the grounds aforesaid, and according to our undoubted right, enter this our dissent from, and protestation against, the same:

BUCKS

DENBIGH

BEDFORD

DORSET

WINTON

SHAFTSBURY

SALISBURY

WHARTON

BERKS

EURE

BRIDGEWATER

DE LA MER

STAMFORD

PAGITT

CLARENDON

MOHUN.”

This was their last protestation; for, after this, they altered their method, and reported not the votes of the committee, and parts of the bill to the house, as they passed them; but took the same order as is observed in other bills, not to report unto the house, until they had gone through with the bill, and so report all the amendments together. This they thought a way of more dispatch, and which did prevent all protestations, until it came to the house; for the votes of a committee, though of the whole house, are not thought of that weight, as that there should be allowed the entering a dissent of them, or protestation against them.

The bill being read over at the committee, the lord keeper objected against the form of it, and desired that he might put it in another method; which was easily allowed him, that being not the dispute. But it was observable the hand of God was upon them in this whole affair; their chariot wheels were taken off, they drew heavily; a bill so long designed, prepared, and of that moment to all their affairs, had hardly a sensible composure.

The first part of the bill that was fallen upon, was, “whether there should be an oath at all in the bill;” and this was the only part the court-party defended with reason. For, the whole bill being to enjoin an oath, the house might reject it, but the committee was not to destroy it. Yet the lord Halifax did with that quickness, learning, and elegance, which are inseparable from all his discourses, make appear, that as there really was no security to any state by oaths; so also no private person, much less statesman, would ever order his affairs as relying on it: no man would ever sleep with open doors, or unlockt-up treasure or plate, should all the town be sworn not to rob; so that the use of multiplying oaths had been most commonly to exclude or disturb some honest conscientious men, who would never have prejudiced the government. It was also insisted on by that lord and others, that the oath, imposed by the bill, contained three clauses; the two former assertory, and the last promissory; and that it was worthy the consideration of the bishops, whether assertory oaths, which were properly appointed to give testimony of a matter of fact, whereof a man is capable to be fully assured by the evidence of his senses, be lawful to be made use of to confirm or invalidate doctrinal propositions; and whether that legislative power, which imposes such an oath, does not necessarily assume to itself an infallibility? And as for promissory oaths, it was desired that those learned prelates would consider the opinion of Grotius, “De jure belli & pacis,” who seems to make it plain, that those kind of oaths are forbidden by our Saviour Christ, Matt. v. 34, 37; and whether it would not become the fathers of the church, when they have well weighed that and other places of the New Testament, to be more tender in multiplying oaths, than hitherto the great men of the church have been? But the bishops carried the point, and an oath was ordered by the major vote.

The next thing in consideration, was about the persons that should be enjoined to take this oath; and those were to be “all such as enjoyed any beneficial office or employment, ecclesiastical, civil or military;” and no farther went the debate for some hours, until at last the lord-keeper rises up, and with an eloquent oration, desires to add privy-counsellors, justices of the peace, and members of both houses; the two former particularly mentioned only to usher in the latter, which was so directly against the two previous votes; the first of which was enrolled amongst the standing orders of the house, that it wanted a man of no less assurance in his eloquence to propose it. And he was driven hard, when he was forced to tell the house, that they were masters of their own orders, and interpretation of them.

The next consideration, at the committee, was the oath itself; and it was desired by the country lords that it might be clearly known, whether it were meant all for an oath, or some of it for a declaration, and some an oath? If the latter, then it was desired it might be distinctly parted; and that the declaratory part should be subscribed by itself, and not sworn. There was no small pains taken by the lord-keeper and the bishops to prove that the two first parts were only a declaration, and not an oath. And though it was replied, that to declare upon one’s oath, or to abhor upon one’s oath, is the same thing with, I do swear; yet there was some difficulty to obtain the dividing of them, and that the declaratory part should be only subscribed, and the rest sworn to.

The persons being determined, and this division agreed to; the next thing was the parts of the declaration; wherein the first was “I A. B. do declare, that it is not lawful, upon any pretence whatsoever, to take up arms against the king.” This was liable to great objections; for it was said, it might introduce a great change of government, to oblige all the men in great trust in England to declare that exact boundary and extent of the oath of allegiance, and enforce some things to be stated, that are much better involved in generals, and peradventure are not capable of another way of expression, without great wrong on the one side or the other. There is a law of 25th Edward III. that “arms shall not be taken up against the king, and that it is treason to do so;” and it is a very just and reasonable law. But it is an idle question at best, to ask, “whether arms in any case can be taken up against a lawful prince;” because it necessarily brings in the debate, in every man’s mind, how there can be a distinction then left between absolute and bounded monarchies, if monarchs have only the fear of God, and no fear of human resistance to restrain them. And it was further urged, that if the chance of human affairs in future ages should give the French king a just title and investiture in the crown of England, and he should avowedly own a design by force to change the religion, and make his government here as absolute as in France, by the extirpation of the nobility, gentry, and principal citizens of the protestant party; whether in such, or like cases, this declaration will be a service to the government, as it is now established. Nay, and it was farther said, that they overthrow the government, that propose to place any part of it above the fear of man. For in our English government, and all bounded monarchies, where the prince is not absolute, there every individual subject is under the fear of the king and his people; either for breaking the peace, or disturbing the common interest that every man hath in it; for if he invades the person or right of his prince, he invades his whole people, who have bound up in him, and derive from him all their liberty, property, and safety; as also the prince himself is under the fear of breaking that golden chain and contexture between him and his people, by making his interest contrary to that they justly and rightly claim. And therefore neither our ancestors, nor any other country free like ours, whilst they preserved their liberties, did ever suffer any mercenary or standing guards to their prince; but took care that his safety should be in them, as theirs was in him.

Though these were the objections to this head, yet they were but lightly touched, and not fully insisted upon, until the debate of the second head, where the scope of the design was opened clearer, and more distinct to every man’s capacity.

The second was, “And that I do abhor that traitorous position of taking arms by his authority against his person.” To this was objected, that if by this be meant an explanation of the oath of allegiance, to leave men without pretence to oppose where the individual person of the king is; then it was to be considered that the position, as it is here set down, is universal, and yet, in most cases, the position is not to be abhorred by honest or wise men. For there is but one case, and that never like to happen again, where this position is in danger to be traitorous, which was the case of the Long-parliament, made perpetual by the king’s own act, by which the government was perfectly altered, and made inconsistent with itself; but it is to be supposed the crown hath sufficient warning, and full power to prevent the falling again into that danger. But the other cases are many, and such as may every day occur, wherein this position is so far from traitorous, that it would prove both necessary and our duty. The famous instance of Henry VI, who being a soft and weak prince, when taken prisoner by his cousin Edward IV, that pretended to the crown, and the great earl of Warwick, was carried in their armies; gave what orders and commissions they pleased; and yet all those, that were loyal to him, adhered to his wife and son; fought in a pitched battle against him in person; and retook him. This was directly, “taking up arms against his person, and against those that were commissioned by him:” and yet to this day no man hath ever blamed them, or thought but that, if they had done otherwise, they had betrayed their prince. The great case of Charles VI. of France, who being of a weak and crazy brain, yet governed by himself, or rather by his wife, a woman of a passionate and heady humour, that hated her son the dauphin, a vigorous and brave prince, and passionately loved her daughter; so that she easily (being pressed by the victory of Henry V. of England) complied to settle the crown of France upon him, to marry her daughter to him, and own his right, contrary to the Salique law. This was directly opposed with arms and force by the dauphin and all good Frenchmen, even in his father’s life-time. A third instance is that of king James of blessed memory; who, when he was a child, was seized and taken prisoner, by those, who were justly thought no friends to his crown or safety. And if the case should be put, that a future king of England, of the same temper with Henry VI. or Charles VI. of France, should be taken prisoner by Spaniards, Dutch, or French, whose overgrowing power should give them thoughts of vast empire, and should, with the person and commission of the king, invade England for a conquest; were it not suitable to our loyalty to join with the son of that king, for the defence of his father’s crown and dignity, even against his person and commission? In all these and the like cases, it was not justified, but that the strict letter of the law might be otherwise construed; and when wisely considered, fit it should be so, yet that it was not safe either for the kingdom, or person of the king and his crown, that it should be in express words sworn against; for if we shall forswear all distinctions, which ill men have made ill use of, either in rebellion or heresy, we must extend the oath to all the particulars of divinity and politics. To this the aged bishop of Winchester replied, to take up arms, in such cases, is “not against, but for the person of the king;” but his lordship was told, that he might then as well, nay much better, have left it upon the old oath of allegiance, than made such a wide gap in this new declaration.

The third and last part of the declaration was, “or against those that are commissioned by him.” Here the mask was plainly plucked off, and arbitrary government appeared bare-faced, and a standing army to be established by act of parliament. For it was said by several of the lords, that, if whatever is by the king’s commission be not opposed by the king’s authority, then a standing army is law, whenever the king pleases; and yet the king’s commission was never thought sufficient to protect, or justify any man, where it is against his authority, which is the law. This allowed, alters the whole law of England, in the most essential and fundamental parts of it; and makes the whole law of property to become arbitrary, and without effect whenever the king pleases.

For instance, if in suit with a great favourite, a man recovers house and lands, and by course of law be put into possession by the sheriff; and afterwards a warrant is obtained by the interest of the person to command some soldiers of the standing army to take the possession, and deliver it back; in such a case, the man in possession may justify to defend himself, and killing those, who shall violently endeavour to enter his house. The party, whose house is invaded, “takes up arms by the king’s authority against those who are commissioned by him.” And it is the same case, if the soldiers had been commissioned to defend the house against the sheriff, when he first endeavoured to take possession according to law. Neither could any order or commission of the king’s put a stop to the sheriff, if he had done his duty in raising the whole force of that county to put the law in execution; neither can the court, from whom that order proceeds, (if they observe their oaths and duty,) put any stop to the execution of the law in such a case, by any command or commission from the king whatsoever; nay, all the guards and standing forces in England cannot be secured by any commission from being a direct riot and unlawful assembly, unless in time of open war and rebellion. And it is not out of the way to suppose, that if any king hereafter shall, contrary to the Petition of Right, demand and levy money by privy seal, or otherwise, and cause soldiers to enter and distrain for such-like illegal taxes; that in such a case any man may by law defend his house against them; and yet this is of the same nature with the former, and against the words of the declaration. These instances may seem somewhat rough, and not with the usual reverence towards the crown; but they alleged, they were to be excused, when all was concerned; and without speaking thus plain, it is refused to be understood; and, however happy we are now, either in the present prince, or those we have in prospect, yet the suppositions are not extravagant, when we consider kings are but men, and compassed with more temptations than others: and as the earl of Salisbury, who stood like a rock of nobility, and English principles, excellently replied to the lord-keeper, who was pleased to term them remote instances; that they would not hereafter prove so, when this declaration had made the practice of them justifiable.

These arguments enforced the lords for the bill, to a change of this part of the declaration; so that they agreed the second and third parts of it should run thus, “And I do abhor that traitorous position of taking arms by his authority against his person, or against those that are commissioned by him according to law, in time of rebellion or war, acting in pursuance of such commission.” Which mends the matter very little; for if they mean the king’s authority, and his lawful commission, to be two things, and such as are capable of opposition; then it is as dangerous to the liberties of the nation, as when it ran in the former words, and we are only cheated by new phrasing of it. But if they understand them to be one and the same thing, as really and truly they are; then we are only to abhor the treason of the position of taking arms by the king’s authority against the king’s authority, because it is nonsense and not practicable. And so they had done little but confessed, that all the clergy, and many other persons, have been forced, by former acts of this present parliament, to make this declaration in other words, that now are found so far from being justifiable, that they are directly contrary to Magna Charta, our properties, and the established law and government of the nation.

The next thing in course was the oath itself, against which the objection lay so plain and so strong at the first entrance, viz. That there was no care taken of the doctrine, but only the discipline of the church. The papists need not scruple the taking this oath; for episcopacy remains in its greatest lustre, though the popish religion was introduced; but the king’s supremacy is justled aside by this oath, and makes better room for an ecclesiastical one. Insomuch that, with this and much more, they were enforced to change their oath, and the next day bring it in as followeth:

“I do swear, that I will not endeavour to alter the protestant religion, or the government either of church or state.”

By this they thought they had salved all, and now began to call their oath, “A security for the protestant religion, and the only good design to prevent popery,” if we should have a popish prince. But the country lords wondered at their confidence in this, since they had never thought of it before; and had been, but the last preceding day of the debate, by pure shame, compelled to this addition. For it was not unknown to them, that some of the bishops themselves had told some of the Roman catholic lords of the house, that “care had been taken that it might be such an oath as might not bear upon them.” But let it be whatever they would have it, yet the country lords thought the addition was unreasonable, and of as dangerous consequence as the rest of the oath. And it was not to be wondered at, if the addition of the best things, wanting the authority of an express divine institution, should make an oath not to endeavour to alter, just so much worse by the addition. For, as the earl of Shaftsbury very well urged, that it is a far different thing to believe, or to be fully persuaded of the truth of the doctrine of our church, and to swear never to endeavour to alter; which last must be utterly unlawful, unless you place an infallibility either in the church or yourself; you being otherwise obliged to alter, whenever a clearer or better light comes to you. And he desired leave to ask, where are the boundaries, or where shall we find how much is meant by the protestant religion?

The lord-keeper, thinking he had now got an advantage, with his usual eloquence, desires, “that it might not be told in Gath, nor published in the streets of Askalon,” that a lord of so great parts and eminence, and professing himself for the church of England, should not know what is meant by the protestant religion! This was seconded with great pleasantness by divers of the lords the bishops. But the bishop of Winchester, and some others of them, were pleased to condescend to instruct that lord, that the protestant religion was comprehended in XXXIX articles, the liturgy, the catechism, the homilies, and the canons.

To this the earl of Shaftsbury replied, that he begged so much charity of them to believe, that he knew the protestant religion so well, and was so confirmed in it, that he hoped he should burn for the witness of it, if providence should call him to it. But he might perhaps think some things not necessary, that they accounted essential; nay, he might think some things not true, or agreeable to the scripture, that they might call doctrines of the church. Besides, when he was to swear “never to endeavour to alter,” it was certainly necessary to know “how far the just extent of this oath was.” But since they had told him that the protestant religion was in those five tracts; he had still to ask, whether they meant those whole tracts were the protestant religion; or only that the protestant religion was contained in all those, but that every part of these was not the protestant religion?

If they meant the former of these, then he was extremely in the dark to find the doctrine of predestination, in the 17th and 18th articles, to be owned by so few great doctors of the church, and to find the 19th article to define the church directly, as the independents do. Besides, the 20th article, stating the authority of the church is very dark; and either contradicts itself, or says nothing, or what is contrary to the known laws of the land. Besides several other things in the XXXIX articles have been preached and writ against, by men of great favour, power, and preferment, in the church.

He humbly conceived the liturgy was not so sacred, being made by men the other day, and thought to be more differing from the dissenting protestants, and less easy to be complied with, upon the advantage of a pretence well known unto us all, of making alterations as might the better unite us; instead whereof, there is scarce one alteration but widens the breach. And no ordination allowed by it here, (as it now stands last reformed in the act of uniformity,) but what is episcopal; insomuch that a popish priest is capable, when converted, of any church preferment, without re-ordination; but no protestant minister not episcopally ordained but is required to be re-ordained; as much as in us lies unchurching all the foreign protestants that have not bishops; though the contrary was both allowed and practised, from the beginning of the reformation till the time of that act, and several bishops made of such as were never ordained priests by bishops. Moreover, the uncharitableness of it was so much against the interest of the crown and church of England, (casting off the dependency of the whole protestant party abroad,) that it would have been bought by the pope and the French king at a vast sum of money; and it is difficult to conceive so great an advantage fell to them merely by chance, and without their help. So that he thought to endeavour to alter and restore the liturgy to what it was in queen Elizabeth’s days, might consist with his being a very good protestant.

As to the catechism, he really thought it might be mended; and durst declare to them, it was not well that there was not a better made.

For the homilies, he thought there might be a better book made; and the third homily, of “repairing and keeping clean of churches,” might be omitted.

What is yet stranger than all this, the canons of our church are directly the old popish canons, which are still in force, and no other; which will appear, if you turn to the stat. 25 Henry VIII. ca. confirmed and received by 1 Eliz. where all those canons are established, until an alteration should be made by the king, in pursuance of that act; which thing was attempted by Edward VI. but not perfected, and let alone ever since; for what reasons, the lords the bishops could best tell. And it was very hard to be obliged by oath “not to endeavour to alter either the English common-prayer-book, or the canon of the mass.”

But if they meant the latter, that the protestant religion is contained in all those, but that every part of those is not the protestant religion; then he apprehended it might be in the bishops power to declare “ex post facto,” what is the protestant religion or not, or else they must leave it to every man to judge for himself, what parts of those books are or are not; and then their oath had been much better let alone.

Much of this nature was said by that lord and others; and the great officers and bishops were so hard put to it, that they seemed willing and convinced to admit of an expedient.

The lord Wharton, an old and expert parliament-man, of eminent piety and abilities, besides a great friend to the protestant religion, and interest of England, offered as a cure to the whole oath, and what might make it pass in all the three parts of it, without any farther debate; the addition of these words, at the latter end of the oath, viz. “as the same is, or shall be established by act of parliament.” But this was not endured at all; when the lord Grey of Rolston, a worthy and true English lord, offered another expedient; which was the addition of these words, “by force or fraud,” to the beginning of the oath; and then it would run thus, “I do swear not to endeavour, by force or fraud, to alter.” This was also a cure that would have passed the whole oath, and seemed as if it would have carried the whole house; the duke of York, and bishop of Rochester, both seconding it; but the lord-treasurer, who had privately before consented to it, speaking against it, gave the word and sign to that party; and it being put to the question, the major vote answered all arguments, and the lord Grey’s proposition was laid aside.

Having thus carried the question, relying upon their strength of votes, taking advantage that those expedients that had been offered, extended to the whole oath, though but one of the three clauses in the oath had been debated, the other two not mentioned at all; they attempted strongly, at nine of the clock at night, to have the whole oath put to the question; and though it was resolutely opposed by the lord Mohun, a lord of great courage and resolution in the public interest, and one whose own personal merits, as well as his father’s, gave him a just title to the best favours of the court; yet they were not diverted, but by as great a disorder as ever was seen in that house, proceeding from the rage those unreasonable proceedings had caused in the country lords; they standing up together, and crying out with so loud a continued voice, adjourn, that when silence was obtained, fear did what reason could not do, cause the question to be put only upon the first clause, concerning the protestant religion, to which the bishops desired might be added, “as it is now established. And one of the eminentest of those who were for the bill, added the words, “by law.” So that, as it was passed, it ran, “I A. B. do swear, that I will not endeavour to alter the protestant religion, now by law established in the church of England.”

And here observe the words, “by law,” do directly take in the canons, though the bishops had never mentioned them.

And now comes the consideration of the latter part of the oath, which comprehends these two clauses, viz. “nor the government either in church or state,” wherein the church came first to be considered. And it was objected by the lords against the bill, that it was not agreeable to the king’s crown and dignity, to have his subjects sworn to the government of the church equally as to himself; that for the kings of England to swear to maintain the church, was a different thing from enjoining all his officers, and both his houses of parliament, to swear to them; it would be well understood, before the bill passed, what the “government of the church” (we are to swear to) is, and what the boundaries of it; whether it derives no power nor authority, nor the exercise of any power, authority, or function, but from the king, as head of the church, and from God, as through him, as all his other officers do.

For no church or religion can justify itself to the government, but the state religion, that owes an entire dependency on, and is but a branch of it; or the independent congregations, whilst they claim no other power but the exclusion of their own members from their particular communion; and endeavour not to set up a kingdom of Christ to their own use, in this world, whilst our saviour hath told us, that “his kingdom is not of it.” For otherwise there should be, “imperium in imperio,” and two distinct supreme powers inconsistent with each other in the same place, and over the same persons. The bishops alleged that priesthood, and the powers thereof, and the authorities belonging thereunto, were derived immediately from Christ, but that the licence of exercising that authority and power in any country, is derived from the civil magistrate. To which was replied, that it was a dangerous thing to secure, by oath and act of parliament, those in the exercise of an authority and power in the king’s country, and over his subjects, which being received from Christ himself, cannot be altered, or limited, by the king’s laws; and that this was directly to set the mitre above the crown. And it was farther offered, that this oath was the greatest attempt that had been made against the king’s supremacy since the reformation; for the king, in parliament, may alter, diminish, enlarge, or take away, any bishopric; he may take any part of a diocese, or whole diocese, and put them under deans, or other persons. For if this be not lawful, but that episcopacy should be “jure divino,” the maintaining the government, as it is now, is unlawful; since the deans of Hereford and Salisbury have very large tracts under their jurisdiction; and several parsons of parishes have episcopal jurisdiction; so that at best that government wants alteration, that is so imperfectly settled. The bishop of Winchester affirmed in this debate, several times, that there was no christian church before Calvin, that had not bishops; to which he was answered, that the Albigenses, a very numerous people, and the only visible known church of true believers, of some ages, had no bishops. It is very true what the bishop of Winchester replied, that they had some amongst them who alone had power to ordain; but that was only to commit that power to the wisest and gravest men amongst them, and to secure ill and unfit men from being admitted into the ministry; but they exercised no jurisdiction over the others.

And it was said by divers of the lords that they thought episcopal government best for the church, and most suitable for the monarchy; but they must say, with the lord of Southampton, upon the occasion of this oath in the parliament of Oxford, “I will not be sworn not to take away episcopacy;” there being nothing that is not of divine precept, but such circumstances may come in human affairs, as may render it not eligible by the best of men. And it was also said, that if episcopacy be to be received as by divine precept, the king’s supremacy is over-thrown; and so is also the opinion of the parliaments both in Edward the VIth, and queen Elizabeth’s time; and the constitution of our church ought to be altered, as hath been showed. But the church of Rome itself hath contradicted that opinion, when she hath made such vast tracts of ground, and great numbers of men, exempt from episcopal jurisdiction.

The lord Wharton, upon the bishops’ claim to a divine right, asked a very hard question, viz. “whether they then did not claim withal a power of excommunicating their prince?” which they evading to answer, and being pressed by some other lords, said, “they never had done it.” Upon which the lord Hallifax told them, that that might well be; for since the reformation they had hitherto had too great a dependence on the crown, to venture on that or any other offence to it.

And so the debate passed on to the third clause, which had the same exceptions against it with the two former, of being unbounded, how far any man might meddle, and how far not; and is of that extent, that it overthrew all parliaments, aud left them capable of nothing but giving money. For what is the business of parliaments, but the alteration, either by adding, or taking away, some part of the government, either in church or state? And every new act of parliament is an alteration; and what kind of government in church or state must that be, which I must swear, upon no alteration of time, emergency of affairs, nor variation of human things, never to endeavour to alter? Would it not be requisite that such a government should be given by God himself; and that with all the ceremony of thunder and lightning, and visible appearance to the whole people, which God vouchsafed to the children of Israel at Mount Sinai? And yet you shall no-where read that they were sworn to it by any oath like this; nay, on the contrary, the princes and the rulers, even those recorded for the best of them, did make several variations.

The lord Stafford, a nobleman of great honour and candour, but who had been all along for the bill, yet was so far convinced with the debate, that he freely declared, there ought to be an addition to the oath, for preserving the freedon of debates in parliament. This was strongly urged by the never to be forgotten earl of Bridgewater, who gave reputation and strength to this cause of England; as did also those worthy earls, Denbigh, Clarendon, and Ailsbury, men of great worth and honour. To salve all that was said by these and the other lords, the lord-keeper and the bishops urged, that there was a proviso, which fully preserved the privileges of parliament; and, upon farther inquiry, there appearing no such, but only a previous vote, as is before mentioned, they allowed that that previous vote should be drawn into a proviso, and added to the bill; and then, in their opinion, the exception to the oath for this cause was perfectly removed. But on the other side it was offered, that a positive absolute oath being taken, a proviso in the act could not dispense with it, without some reference in the body of the oath unto that proviso. But this also was utterly denied, until the next day, the debate going on upon other matters; the lord treasurer, whose authority easily obtained with the major-vote, reassumed what was mentioned in the debates of the preceding days, and allowed a reference to the proviso; so that it then passed in these words:

“I A. B. do swear, that I will not endeavour to alter the protestant religion now by law established in the church of England; nor the government of this kingdom in church or state, as it is now by law established; and I do take this oath according to the meaning of this act, and the proviso contained in the same. So help me God.”

There was a passage of the greatest observation in the whole debate, and which with most clearness showed what the great men and bishops aimed at; and should in order have come in before, but that it deserved so particular a consideration, that I thought best to place it here by itself; which was, that upon passing of the proviso for preserving the rights and privileges of parliaments, made out of the previous votes, it was excellently observed by the earl of Bolingbroke, a man of great ability and learning in the laws of the land, and perfectly stedfast in all good English principles; that though that proviso did preserve the freedom of debates and votes in parliaments, yet the oath remained, notwithstanding that proviso, upon all men, that shall take it as a prohibition, either by speech or writing, or address, to “endeavour any alteration in religion, church, or state:” nay, also upon the members of both houses otherwise than as they speak and vote in open parliaments or committees. For this oath takes away all private converse upon any such affairs even with one another. This was seconded by the lord De la Mer, whose name is well known, as also his worth, piety, and learning; I should mention his merits too, but I know not whether that be lawful, they lying yet unrewarded.

The lord Shaftsbury presently drew up some words for preserving the same rights, privileges, and freedoms, which men now enjoy by the laws established; so that by a side-wind he might not be deprived of the great liberty we enjoy as Englishmen; and desired those words might be inserted in that proviso before it passed. This was seconded by many of the fore-mentioned lords; and pressed upon those terms, that they desired not to countenance, or make in the least degree any thing lawful, that was not already so; but that they might not be deprived, by this dark way of proceeding, of that liberty, which was necessary to them as men, and without which parliaments would be rendered useless.

Upon this all the great officers showed themselves; nay, the duke of Lauderdale himself, though under the load of two addresses, opened his mouth, and together with the lord-keeper, and the lord treasurer, told the committee in plain terms; that they intended, and designed to prevent caballing and conspiracies against the government; that they knew no reason why any of the king’s officers should consult with parliament-men about parliament-business; and particularly mentioned those of the army, treasury, and navy. And when it was objected to them, that the greatest part of the most knowing gentry were either justices of the peace, or of the militia; and that this took away all converse, or discourse of any alteration, which was in truth of any business, in parliament; and that the officers of the navy and treasury might be best able to advise what should be fit in many cases; and that withal none of their lordships did offer any thing to salve the inconvenience of parliament-men being deprived of discoursing one with another, upon the matters that were before them; besides it must be again remembered, that nothing was herein desired to be countenanced, or made lawful, but to preserve that which is already law, and avowedly justified by it; for, without this addition to the proviso, the oath rendered parliaments but a snare, not a security, to the people; yet to all this was answered, sometimes with passion and high words, sometimes with jests and raillery, (the best they had,) and at the last the major-vote answered all objections, and laid aside the addition tendered.

There was another thing before the finishing of the oath, which I shall here also mention, which was an additional oath, tendered by the marquis of Winchester; who ought to have been mentioned in the first and chiefest place, for his conduct and support in the whole debate, being an expert parliament-man, and one, whose quality, parts, and fortune, and owning of good principles, concur to give him one of the greatest places in the esteem of good men. The additional oath tendered was as followeth:

“I do swear that I will never by threats, injunctions, promises, advantages, or invitation, by or from any person whatsoever, nor from the hopes or prospect of any gift, place, office, or benefit whatsoever; give my vote other than according to my opinion and conscience, as I shall be truly and really persuaded upon the debate of any business in parliament. So help me God.”

This oath was offered upon the occasion of swearing members of parliament; and upon this score only, that if any new oath was thought fit (which that noble lord declared his own judgment perfectly against) this certainly was (all considerations and circumstances taken in) most necessary to be a part; and the nature of it was not so strange, if they considered the judge’s oath, which was not much different from this. To this the lord-keeper seemed very averse, and declared in a very fine speech that it was a useless oath; for all gifts, places, and offices, were likeliest to come from the king; and no member of parliament in either house could do too much for the king, or be too much of his side; and that men might lawfully and worthily have in their prospect such offices or benefits from him. With this the lords against the bill were in no terms satisfied, but plainly spoke out, that men had been, might, and were likely to be, in either house, too much for the king, as they called it; and that whoever did endeavour to give more power to the king than the law and constitution of the government had given, especially if it tended to the introducing an absolute and arbitrary government, might justly be said to do too much for the king, and to be corrupted in his judgment by the prospect of advantages and rewards; though, when it is considered that every deviation of the crown towards absolute power, lessens the king in the love and affection of his people, making him become less in their interest; a wise prince will not think it a service done him.

And now remains only the last part of the bill, which is the penalty, different according to the qualifications of the persons: “all that are, or shall be privy counsellors, justices of the peace, or possessors of any beneficial office, ecclesiastical, civil, or military; are to take the oath, when summoned, upon pain of 500l. and being made incapable of bearing office; the members of both houses are not made incapable, but liable to the penalty of 500l. if they take it not.” Upon all which, the considerations of the debate were, that those officers, and members of both houses, are, of all the nation, the most dangerous to be sworn into a mistake, or change of the government; and that, as to the members of both houses, the penalty of 500l. was directly against the latter of the two previous votes; and although they had not applied the penalty of incapacity unto the members of both houses, because of the first previous vote in the case of the lords; neither durst they admit of a proposition made by some of themselves, that those that did not come up, and sit as members, should be liable to the taking the oath, or penalty, until they did so; yet their ends were not to be compassed without invading the latter previous vote, and, contrary to the rights and privileges of parliament, enforce them to swear, or pay 500l. every parliament. And this they carried through with so strong a resolution, that having experienced their misfortunes in replies for several hours, not one of the party could be provoked to speak one word.

Though, besides the former arguments, it was strongly urged, that this oath ought not to be put upon officers with a heavier penalty than the test was in the act of the immediate preceding session against the papists; by which any man might sit down with the loss of his office, without being in the danger of the penalty of 500l. And also that this act had a direct retrospect, which ought never to be in penal laws: for this act punishes men for having an office without taking this oath; which office, before this law pass, they may lawfully enjoy without it. Yet notwithstanding it provides not a power, in many cases, for them to part with it, before this oath overtake them. For the clause, “whoever is in office the 1st of September,” will not relieve a justice of the peace, who being once sworn, is not in his own power to be left out of commission. And so might be instanced in several other cases. As also the members of the house of commons were not in their own power to be unchosen; and as to the lords they were subjected by it to the meanest condition of mankind, if they could not enjoy their birthright, without playing tricks suitable to the humour of every age, and be enforced to swear to every fancy of the present times. Three years ago it was all liberty and indulgence, and now it is strict and rigid conformity; and what it may be, in some short time hereafter, without the spirit of prophesying, might be shrewdly guessed by a considering man.

This being answered with silence, the duke of Buckingham, whose quality, admirable wit, and unusual pains that he took all along in the debate against this bill, makes me mention him in this place, as general of the party, and coming last out of the field; made a speech late at night of eloquent and well-placed nonsense; showing how excellently well he could do both ways, and hoping that might do, when sense (which he often before used with the highest advantage of wit and reason) would not. But the earl of Winchelsea, readily apprehending the dialect, in a short reply put an end to the debate; and the major-vote, “ultima, ratio senatuum & conciliorum,” carried the question as the court and bishops would have it.

This was the last act of this tragi-comedy, which had taken up sixteen or seventeen whole days debate; the house sitting many times till eight or nine of the clock at night, and sometimes till midnight; but the business of privilege between the two houses† gave such an interruption, that this bill was never reported from the committee to the house.

I have mentioned to you divers lords, that were speakers, as it fell in the debate; but I have not distributed the arguments of the debate to every particular lord. Now you know the speakers, your curiosity may be satisfied, and the lords I am sure will not quarrel about the division. I must not forget to mention those great lords, Bedford, Devonshire, and Burlington, for the countenance and support they gave to the English interest. The earl of Bedford was so brave in it, that he joined in three of the protests; so also did the earl of Dorset; and the earl of Stamford, a young nobleman of great hopes; the lord viscount Say and Seal and the lord Pagitt in two; the lord Audley and the lord Fitzwalter in the third; and the lord Peter, a nobleman of great estate, and always true to the maintenance of liberty and property, in the first. And I should not have omitted the earl of Dorset, lord Audley, and the lord Peter, amongst the speakers; for I will assure you they did their parts excellently well. The lord viscount Hereford was a steady man among the country lords; so also was the lord Townshend, a man justly of great esteem and power in his own country, and amongst all those that well know him. The earl of Carnarvon ought not to be mentioned in the last place; for he came out of the country on purpose to oppose the bill, stuck very fast to the country party, and spoke many excellent things against it. I dare not mention the Roman catholic lords, and some others, for fear I hurt them; but thus much I shall say of the Roman catholic peers, that if they were safe in their estates, and yet kept out of office, their votes in that house would not be the most unsafe to England of any sort of men in it. As for the absent lords, the earl of Rutland, lord Sandys, lord Herbert of Cherbury, lord North, and lord Crew, ought to be mentioned with honour; having taken care their votes should maintain their own interest and opinions. But the earls of Exeter and Chesterfield, that gave no proxies this session; the lord Montague of Boughton, that gave his to the treasurer; and the lord Roberts his to the earl of Northampton; are not easily to be understood. If you ask after the earl of Carlisle, the lord viscount Falconberg, and the lord Berkley of Berkley-Castle, because you find them not mentioned amongst all their old friends; all I have to say is, that the earl of Carlisle stepped aside to receive his pension; the lord Berkley to dine with the lord-treasurer; but the lord viscount Falconberg, like the nobleman in the gospel, went away sorrowful, for he had a great office at court. But I despair not of giving you a better account of them next session, for it is not possible, when they consider, that Cromwell’s major-general, son-in-law, and friend, should think to find their accounts amongst men that set up on such a bottom.

Thus, sir, you see the standard of the new party is not yet set up, but must be the work of another session; though it be admirable to me, how the king can be induced to venture his affairs upon such weak counsels, and of so fatal consequences. For I believe it is the first time in the world, that ever it was thought adviseable, after fifteen years of the highest peace, quiet, and obedience, that ever was in any country, that there should be a pretence taken up, and a reviving of former miscarriages, especially after so many promises and declarations, as well as acts of oblivion, and so much merit of the offending party, in being the instruments of the king’s happy return; besides the putting so vast a number of the king’s subjects in utter despair of having their crimes ever forgotten. And it must be a great mistake in counsels, or worse, that there should be so much pains taken by the court to debase and bring low the house of peers, if a military government be not intended by some. For the power of the peerage, and a standing army, are like two buckets, in the proportion that one goes down, the other exactly goes up. And I refer you to the consideration of all the histories of ours, or any of our neighbour northern monarchies; whether standing forces, military and arbitrary government, came not plainly in by the same steps that the nobility were lessened; and whether, whenever they were in power and greatness, they permitted the least shadow of any of them. Our own country is a clear instance of it; for though the white rose and the red changed fortunes often, to the ruin, slaughter, and beheading the great men of the other side; yet nothing could enforce them to secure themselves by a standing force. But I cannot believe that the king himself will ever design any such thing; for he is not of a temper robust and laborious enough to deal with such a sort of men, or reap the advantages, if there be any, of such a government. And I think he can hardly have forgot the treatment his father received from the officers of his army, both at Oxford and Newark; it was an hard, but almost an even choice, to be the parliament’s prisoner, or their slave; but I am sure the greatest prosperity of his arms could have brought him to no happier condition, than our king his son has before him, whenever he pleases. However, this may be said for the honour of this session, that there is no prince in Christendom hath, at a greater expence of money, maintained for two months space a nobler or more useful dispute of the politics, mystery, and secrets of government, both in church and state, than this hath been; of which noble design no part is owing to any of the country lords, for several of them begged, at the first entrance into the debate, that they might not be engaged in such disputes as would unavoidably produce divers things to be said, which they were willing to let alone. But I must bear them witness, and so will you, having read this; that they did their parts in it, when it came to it, and spoke plain, like old English lords.

I shall conclude with what, upon the whole matter, is most worthy your consideration, that the design is “to declare us first into another government more absolute and arbitrary than the oath of allegiance, or old law, knew;” and then “make us swear unto it,” as it is so established. And less than this the bishops could not offer in requital to the crown for parting with its supremacy, and suffering them to be sworn to be equal with itself. Archbishop Laud was the first founder of this device. In his canons of 1640, you shall find an oath very like this, and a declaratory canon preceding, “that monarchy is of divine righta;” which was also affirmed in this debate by our reverend prelates, and is owned in print by no less men than archbishop Usher, and bishop Sandersona; and I am afraid it is the avowed opinion of much the greater part of our dignified clergy. If so, I am sure they are the most dangerous sort of men alive to our English government; and it is the first thing ought to be looked into, and strictly examined by our parliaments. It is the leaven that corrupts the whole lump. For if that be true, I am sure monarchy is not to be bounded by human laws; and the 8th chapter of 1 Samuel will prove (as many of our divines would have it) the great charter of the royal prerogative; and our “Magna Charta;” that says, “Our kings may not take our fields, our vineyards, our corn, and our sheep,” is not in force, but void and null; because against divine institution. And you have the riddle out, why the clergy are so ready to take themselves, and to impose upon others, such kind of oaths as these. They have placed themselves and their possessions upon a better and surer bottom (as they think) than “Magna Charta”; and so have no more need of, or concern for it. Nay, what is worse, they have trucked away the rights and liberties of the people, in this and all other countries, wherever they have had opportunity; that they might be owned by the prince to be “jure divino,” maintained in that pretension by that absolute power and force they have contributed so much to put into his hands; and that priest and prince may, like Castor and Pollux, be worshipped together as divine, in the same temple, by us poor lay-subjects; and that sense and reason, law, properties, rights, and liberties, shall be understood, as the oracles of those deities shall interpret, or give signification to them; and never be made use of in the world to oppose the absolute and free will of either of them.

Sir, I have no more to say, but beg your pardon for this tedious trouble, and that you will be very careful to whom you communicate any of this.

REMARKS UPON SOME OF MR. NORRIS’S BOOKS,

Wherein he asserts P. Malebranche’s Opinion of our seeing all Things in God.

John Locke

1693

Oates

There are some, who think they have given an account of the nature of ideas, by telling us, “we see them in Goda,” as if we understood, what ideas in the understanding of God are, better than when they are in our own understandings; or their nature were better known, when it is said, that “the immediate object of our understandings are the divine ideas, the omniform essence of God, partially represented or exhibitedb.” So that this now has made the matter clear, there can be no difficulty left, when we are told that our ideas are the divine ideas; and the “divine ideas the omniform essence of God.” For what the divine ideas are, we know as plainly, as we know what 1, 2, and 3, is; and it is a satisfactory explication of what our ideas are to tell us, they are no other than the divine ideas; and the divine essence is more familiar, and level to our knowledge, than any thing we think of. Besides, there can be no difficulty in understanding how the “divine ideas are God’s essence.”

I am complained of for not having “given an account of, or defined the nature of our ideasa.” By “giving an account of the nature of ideas,” is not meant, that I should make known to men their ideas; for I think nobody can imagine that any articulate sounds of mine, or any body else, can make known to another what his ideas, that is, what his perceptions are, better than what he himself knows and perceives them to be; which is enough for affirmations, or negations about them. By the “nature of ideas,” therefore, is meant here their causes and manner of production in the mind, i. e. in what alteration of the mind this perception consists; and as to that, I answer, no man can tell; for which I not only appeal to experience, which were enough, but shall add this reason, viz. because no man can give any account of any alteration made in any simple substance whatsoever; all the alteration we can conceive, being only of the alteration of compounded substances; and that only by a transposition of parts. Our ideas, say these men, are the “divine ideas, or the omniform essence of God,” which the mind sometimes sees, and sometimes not. Now I ask these men, what alteration is made in the mind upon seeing? for there lies the difficulty, which occasions the inquiry.

For what difference a man finds in himself, when he sees a marygold, and sees not a marygold, has no difficulty, and needs not be inquired after: he has the idea now, which he had not before. The difficulty is, what alteration is made in his mind; what changes that has in itself, when it sees what it did not see before, either the divine idea in the understanding of God, or, as the ignorant think, the marygold in the garden. Either supposition, as to this matter, is all one; for they are both things extrinsical to the mind, till it has that perception; and when it has it, I desire them to explain to me, what the alteration in the mind is, besides saying, as we vulgar do, it is having a perception, which it had not the moment before; which is only the difference between perceiving and not perceiving; a difference in matter of fact agreed on all hands; which, wherein it consists, is, for aught I see, unknown to one side as well as the other; only the one have the ingenuity to confess their ignorance; and the other pretend to be knowing.

P. Malebranche says, “God does all things by the simplest and shortest ways,” i. e. as it is interpreted in Mr. Norris’s Reason and Religion, “God never does any thing in vaina.” This will easily be granted them; but how will they reconcile to this principle of theirs, on which their whole system is built, the curious structure of the eye and ear; not to mention the other parts of the body? For if the perception of colours and sounds depended on nothing but the presence of the object affording an occasional cause to God Almighty to exhibit to the mind the idea of figures, colours, and sounds; all that nice and curious structure of those organs is wholly in vain: since the sun by day, and the stars by night, and the visible objects that surround us, and the beating of a drum, the talk of people, and the change made in the air by thunder; are as much present to a blind and deaf man, as to those who have their eyes and ears in the greatest perfection. He that understands optics ever so little, must needs admire the wonderful make of the eye, not only for the variety and neatness of the parts; but as suited to the nature of refraction, so as to paint the image of the object in the retina; which these men must confess to be all lost labour, if it contributes nothing at all, in the ordinary way of causes and effects, to the producing that idea in the mind. But that only the presence of the object gave occasion to God to show to the mind that idea in himself, which certainly is as present to one that has a gutta serena, as to the quicksightedest man living. But we do not know how, by any natural operation, this can produce an idea in the mind; and therefore (a good conclusion!) God, the author of nature, cannot this way produce it. As if it were impossible for the Almighty to produce any thing, but by ways we must conceive, and are able to comprehend; when he that is best satisfied of his omniscient understanding, and knows so well how God perceives, and man thinks, cannot explain the cohesion of parts in the lowest degree of created beings, unorganised bodies.

The perception of universals also proves that all beings are present to our minds; and that can only be by the presence of God, because all “created things are individualsa.” Are not all things that exist individuals? If so, then say not, all created, but all existing things are individuals; and if so, then the having any general idea proves not that we have all objects present to our minds. But this is for want of considering wherein universality consists; which is only in representation, abstracting from particulars. An idea of a circle, of an inch diameter, will represent, where, or whensoever existing, all the circles of an inch diameter; and that by abstracting from time and place. And it will also represent all circles of any bigness, by abstracting also from that particular bigness, and by retaining only the relation of equidistance of the circumference from the centre, in all the parts of it.

We have a “distinct idea of Godb,” whereby we clearly enough distinguish him from the creatures; but I fear it would be presumption for us to say, we have a clear idea of him, as he is in himself.

The argument, that “we have the idea of infinite, before the idea of finite, because we conceive infinite being, barely by conceiving being, without considering, whether it be finite or infinitec;” I shall leave to be considered, whether it is not a mistake, of priority of nature, for priority of conception.

“God made all things for himselfa;” therefore, we “see all things in him.” This is called demonstration. As if all things were as well made for God, and mankind had not as much reason to magnify him, if their perception of things were any other way than such an one of seeing them in him; as shows not God more than the other, and wherein not one of a million takes more notice of him, than those who think they perceive things, where they are, by their senses.

If God should create a mind, and give it the sun, suppose, for its idea, “or immediate object of knowledge, God would then make that mind for the sun, and not for himselfb.” This supposes, that those that see things in God, see at the same time God also, and thereby show that their minds are made for God, having him for the “immediate object of their knowledge.” But for this I must appeal to common experience, whether every one, as often as he sees any thing else, sees and perceives God in the case; or whether it be not true of men, who see other things every moment, that God is not in all their thoughts? Yet, says he, “when the mind sees his works, it sees him in some mannerc.” This some manner, is no manner at all to the purpose of being made only for God, for his idea, or for his immediate object of knowledge. A man bred up in the obscurity of a dungeon, where, by a dim and almost no light, he perceives the objects about him; it is true, he owes this idea to the light of the sun; but having never heard, nor thought of the sun, can one say that the idea of the sun is “his immediate object of knowledge,” or that therefore “his mind was made for the sun?” This is the case of a great part of mankind; and how many can we imagine of those, who have got some notion of God, either from tradition or reason; have an idea of him present in their minds as often as they think of any thing else?

But if our being made for God necessarily demonstrates that we should “see all things in him;” this, at last, will demonstrate, that we are not half made for him, since it is confessed by our author, that we see no other ideas in God, but those of number, extension, and essences; which are not half the ideas that take up men’s minds.

“The simple essences of things are nothing else but the divine essence itself, considered with his connotation, as variously representative, or exhibitive of things, and as variously imitable or participable by thema;” and this he tells us are ideasb. The meaning, I take it, of all this, put into plain intelligible words, is this; God has always a power to produce any thing that involves not a contradiction. He also knows what we can do. But what is all this to ideas in him, as real beings visible by us? God knew, from eternity, he could produce a pebble, a mushroom, and a man. Were these, which are distinct ideas, part of his simple essence? It seems then we know very well the essence of God, and use the word simple, which comprehends all sorts of variety, in a very proper way. But God knew he could produce such creatures; therefore, where shall we place those ideas he saw of them, but in his own essence? There these ideas existed “eminenter;” and so they are the essence of God. There are things themselves existed too “eminenter,” and therefore all the creatures, as they really exist, are the essence of God. For if finite real beings of one kind, as ideas are said to be, are the essence of the infinite God; other finite beings, as the creatures, may be also the essence of God. But after this rate we must talk, when we will allow ourselves to be ignorant of nothing; but will know even the knowledge of God, and the way of his understanding!

The “essences of things, or ideas existing in Godc.” There are many of them that exist in God; and so the simple essence of God has actually existing in it as great a variety of ideas as there are of creatures; all of them real beings, and distinct one from another. If it be said, this means, God can, and knows he can produce them; what doth this say more than every one says? If it doth say more, and shows us not this infinite number of real distinct beings in God, so as to be his very essence; what is this better than what those say, who make God to be nothing but the universe; though it be covered under unintelligible expressions of simplicity and variety, at the same time, in the essence of God? But those who would not be thought ignorant of any thing to attain it, make God like themselves; or else they could not talk as they do, of “the mind of God, and the ideas in the mind of God, exhibitive of all the whole possibility of beinga.”

It is “in the divine nature that these universal natures, which are the proper objects of science, are to be found. And consequently it is in God that we know all the truth which we knowb.” Doth any universal nature therefore exist? Or can any thing that exists any-where, or any-how, be any other than singular? I think it cannot be denied that God, having a power to produce ideas in us, can give that power to another: or, to express it otherwise, make any idea the effect of any operation on our bodies. This has no contradiction in it, and therefore is possible. But you will say, you conceive not the way how this is done. If you stand to that rule, that it cannot be done, because you conceive not the manner how it is brought to pass; you must deny that God can do this, because you cannot conceive the manner how he produces any idea in us. If visible objects are seen only by God’s exhibiting their ideas to our minds, on occasion of the presence of these objects, what hinders the Almighty from exhibiting their ideas to a blind man, to whom, being set before his face, and as near his eyes, and in as good a light as to one not blind, they are, according to this supposition, as much the occasional cause to one as the other? But yet under this equality of occasional causes, one has the idea, and the other not; and this constantly; which would give one reason to suspect something more than a presential occasional cause in the object.

Farther, if light striking upon the eyes be but the occasional cause of seeing; God, in making the eyes of so curious a structure, operates not by the simplest ways; for God could have produced visible ideas upon the occasion of light upon the eye-lids or fore-head.

Outward objects are not, when present, always occasional causes. He that has long continued in a room perfumed with sweet odours, ceases to smell, though the room be filled with those flowers; though, as often as after a little absence he returns again, he smells them afresh. He that comes out of bright sunshine into a room where the curtains are drawn, at first sees nothing in the room; though those who have been there some time, see him and every thing plainly. It is hard to account for either of these phenomena, by God’s producing these ideas upon the account of occasional causes. But by the production of ideas in the mind, by the operation of the object on the organs of sense, this difference is easy to be explained.

Whether the ideas of light and colours come in by the eyes, or no; it is all one as if they did; for those who have no eyes, never have them. And whether, or no, God has appointed that a certain modified motion of the fibres, or spirits in the optic nerve, should excite or produce, or cause them in us; call it what you please: it is all one as if it did; since where there is no such motion, there is no such perception or idea. For I hope they will not deny God the privilege to give such a power to motion, if he pleases. Yes, say they, they be the occasional, but not the efficient cause; for that they cannot be, because that is in effect to say, he has given this motion in the optic nerve a power to operate on himself, but cannot give it a power to operate on the mind of man; it may by this appointment operate on himself, the impassible infinite spirit, and put him in mind when he is to operate on the mind of man, and exhibit to it the idea which is in himself of any colour. The infinite eternal God is certainly the cause of all things, the fountain of all being and power. But, because all being was from him, can there be nothing but God himself? or, because all power was originally in him, can there be nothing of it communicated to his creatures? This is to set very narrow bounds to the power of God, and, by pretending to extend it, takes it away. For which (I beseech you, as we can comprehend) is the perfectest power; to make a machine, a watch, for example, that when the watchmaker has withdrawn his hands, shall go and strike by the fit contrivance of the parts; or else requires that whenever the hand by pointing to the hours, minds him of it, he should strike twelve upon the bell? No machine of God’s making can go of itself. Why? because the creatures have no power; can neither move themselves, nor any thing else. How then comes about all that we see? Do they do nothing? Yes, they are the occasional causes to God, why he should produce certain thoughts and motions in them. The creatures cannot produce any idea, any thought in man. How then comes he to perceive or think? God upon the occasion of some motion in the optic nerve, exhibits the colour of a marygold or a rose to his mind. How came that motion in his optic nerve? On occasion of the motion of some particles of light striking on the retina, God producing it, and so on. And so whatever a man thinks God produces the thought; let it be infidelity, murmuring, or blasphemy. The mind doth nothing; his mind is only the mirrour that receives the ideas that God exhibits to it, and just as God exhibits them; the man is altogether passive in the whole business of thinking.

A man cannot move his arm or his tongue; he has no power; only upon occasion, the man willing it, God moves it. The man wills, he doth something; or else God, upon the occasion of something, which he himself did before, produced this will, and this action in him. This is the hypothesis that clears doubts, and brings us at last to the religion of Hobbes and Spinosa by resolving all, even the thoughts and will of men, into an irresistible fatal necessity. For whether the original of it be from the continued motion of eternal all-doing matter, or from an omnipotent immaterial being which, having begun matter, and motion, continues it by the direction of occasions which he himself has also made; as to religion and morality, it is just the same thing. But we must know how every thing is brought to pass, and thus we have it resolved, without leaving any difficulty to perplex us. But perhaps it would better become us to acknowledge our ignorance, than to talk such things boldly of the Holy One of Israel, and condemn others for not daring to be as unmannerly as ourselves.

Ideas may be real beings, though not substances; as motion is a real being, though not a substance; and it seems probable that, in us, ideas depend on, and are some way or other the effect of motion: since they are so fleeting; it being, as I have elsewhere observed, so hard, and almost impossible, to keep in our minds the same unvaried idea, long together, unless when the object that produces it is present to the senses; from which the same motion that first produced it being continued, the idea itself may continue.

This therefore may be a sufficient excuse of the ignorance I have owned of what our ideas are, any farther than as they are perceptions we experiment in ourselves; and the dull unphilosophical way I have taken of examining their production, only so far as experience and observation lead me; wherein my dim sight went not beyond sensation and reflection.

Trutha lies only in propositions. The foundation of this truth is the relation that is between our ideas. The knowledge of truth is that perception of the relation between our ideas to be as it is expressed.

The immutability of essences lies in the same sounds, supposed to stand for the same ideas. These things consider, would have saved this learned discourse.

Whatever exists, whether in God, or out of God, is singulara.

If no proposition should be made, there would be no truth nor falsehood; though the same relations still subsisting between the same ideas, is a foundation of the immutability of truthb in the same propositions, whenever made.

What wonder is it that the same ideac should always be the same idea? For if the word triangle be supposed to have the same signification always, that is all this amounts to.

“I desire to knowd what things they are that God has prepared for them that love him.” Therefore I have some knowledge of them already, though they be such as “eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor have entered into the heart of man to conceive.”

If I “have all things actually present to my mind;” why do I not know all things distinctly?

He that considerse the force of such ways of speaking as these, “I desire it, pray give it me, she was afraid of the snake, and ran away trembling;” will easily conceive how the meaning of the words “desire” and “fear,” and so all those which stand for intellectual notions, may be taught by words of sensible significations.

This, however otherwise in experience, should be so on this hypothesis; v. g. the uniformity of the ideas, that different men have when they use such words as these, “glory, worship, religion,” are clear proofs that, “God exhibited to their minds that part of the ideal world, as is signified by that sign.”

Strange! that truth being, in any question, but one; the more we discover of it, the more uniform our judgment should be about itf.

This argues that the ground of it is the always immutable relations of the same ideas. Several ideas that we have once got acquainted with, we can revive; and so they are present to us when we please. But the knowledge of their relations, so as to know what we may affirm or deny of them, is not always present to our minds; but we often miss truth, even after study. But in many, and possibly not the fewest, we have neither the ideas, nor the truth, constantly, or so much as at all, present to our minds.

And I think I may without any disparagement to the author, doubt whether he ever had, or, with all his application, ever would have, the ideas of truth present to the mind, that Mr. Newton had in writing his book.

This sectiong supposes we are better acquainted with God’s understanding than our own. But this pretty argument would perhaps look as smilingly thus: We are like God in our understandings: he sees what he sees, by ideas in his own mind; therefore we see what we see, by ideas that are in our own minds.

These textsh do not prove that we shall “hereafter see all things in God.” There will be objects in a future state, and we shall have bodies and senses.

Is he, whilst we see through the veil of our mortal flesh here, intimately present to our minds?

To think of any thingi is to contemplate that precise idea. The idea of Being, in general, is the idea of Being abstracted from whatever may limit or determine it to any inferior species; so that he that thinks always of being in general, thinks never of any particular species of being; unless he can think of it with and without precision at the same time. But if he means, that he thinks of being in general, whenever he thinks of this or that particular being, or sort of being; then it is certain he may always think of being in general, till he can find out a way of thinking on nothing.

Being in general, is beingk abstracted from wisdom, goodness, power, and any particular sort of duration; and I have as true an idea of being, when these are excluded out of it, as when extension, place, solidity, and mobility, are excluded out of my idea. And therefore, if being in general, and God, be the same, I have a true idea of God, when I exclude out of it power, goodness, wisdom, and eternity.

As if there was no differencel between “man’s being his own light,” and “not seeing things in God.” Man may be enlightened by God, though it be not by “seeing all things in God.”

The finishing of these hasty thoughts must be deferred to another season.

Oates,

John Locke.

SEVERAL LETTERS TO ANHT. COLLINS, ESQ. AND OTHER PERSONS.

John Locke

Mr. Oldenburgh

A LETTER FROM MR. LOCKE TO MR. OLDENBURGH, CONCERNING A POISONOUS FISH ABOUT THE BAHAMA ISLANDS.

Sir,

I HEREWITH send you an account, I lately received from New Providence, one of the Bahama Islands, concerning a fish there; which is as followeth:

“I have not met with any rarities here, worth your acceptance, though I have been diligent in inquiring after them. Of those, which I have heard of, this seems most remarkable to me. The fish, which are here, are many of them poisonous, bringing a great pain on their joints who eat them, and continue for some short time; and at last, with two or three days itching, the pain is rubbed off. Those of the same species, size, shape, colour, taste, are, one of them poison; the other not in the least hurtful: and those that are, only to some of the company, The distemper to men never proves mortal. Dogs and cats sometimes eat their last. Men, who have once had that disease, upon the eating of fish, though it be those which are wholesome, the poisonous ferment in their body is revived thereby, and their pain increased.”

Thus far the ingenious person, from whom I had this relation, who having been but a very little while upon the island, when he writ this, could not send so perfect an account of this odd observation, as one could wish, or as I expect to receive from him, in answer to some queries I lately sent him by a ship bound thither. When his answer comes to my hand, if there be any thing in it, which may gratify your curiosity, I shall be glad of that or any other occasion to assure you that I am,

SIR, Your most humble servant,

John Locke.

4 May, 1703

Oates

Anthony Collins

A LETTER TO ANTHONY COLLINS, ESQ.

Sir,

Oates,

4 May, 1703.

NONE of your concerns are of indifference to me. You may from thence conclude I take part in your late great loss. But I consider you as a philosopher, and a christian; aud so spare you the trouble of reading from me, what your own thoughts will much better suggest to you.

You have exceedingly obliged me, in the books of yours that you have sent me, and those of mine you have been at so much trouble about. I received but just now the packet, wherein they and your obliging letter were; that must be my excuse for so tardy a return of my thanks.

I am overjoyed with an intimation I have received also, that gives me hopes of seeing you here the next week. You are a charitable good friend, and are resolved to make the decays and dregs of my life the pleasantest part of it. For I know nothing calls me so much back to a pleasant sense of enjoyment, and makes my days so gay and lively, as your good company. Come then, and multiply happy minutes upon, and rejoice here in the good you do me. For I am, with a perfect esteem and respect,

SIR,

Your most humble and most obedient servant,

John Locke.

3 June, 1703

Oates

Anthony Collins

TO THE SAME.

Sir,

Oates,

3 June, 1703.

IT is not enough to have heard from my cousin Kingm that you got safe to town, or from others that you were since well there. I am too much concerned in it, not to inquire of yourself, how you do. Besides that I owe you my thanks, for the greatest favour I can receive, the confirmation of your friendship, by the visit I lately received from you. If you knew what satisfaction I feel spread over my mind by it, you would take this acknowledgment as coming from something beyond civility; my heart goes with it, and that you may be sure of; and so useless a thing as I am have nothing else to offer you.

As a mark that I think we are past ceremony, I here send you a new bookn in quires, with a desire you will get it bound by your binder. In the parts of good binding, besides folding, beating, and sewing, will I count strong pasteboards, and as large margins as the paper will possibly afford; and, for lettering, I desire it should be upon the same leather blacked, and barely the name of the author, as, in this case, Vossius.

Pardon this liberty, and believe me with perfect sincerity and respect, &c.

John Locke

18 June, 1703

Oates

Anthony Collins

TO THE SAME.

Sir,

Oates,

18 June, 1703.

IT would be strange, if after all those marks of friendship and esteem I have received from you, in the little time I have had the honour of your acquaintance, I should quarrel with you; and should repay the continuance of your good offices, employed even in things beneath you, with grumbling at you; and yet this I can hardly forbear to do. Do not, I beseech you, take this to be altogether ill-nature, but a due estimate of what I enjoy in you. And, since upon just measures I count it the great treasure of my life, I cannot with patience hear you talk of condescension in me, when I stick not to waste your time in looking after the binding of my books. If you please let us live upon fairer terms; and when you oblige me, give me leave to be sensible of it. And pray remember, that there is one Mr. Collins, with whom, if I desire to live upon equal terms, it is not that I forget how much he is superiour to me, in many things wherein he will always have the precedency; but I assume it upon the account of that friendship that is between us; friendship levelling all inequalities between those whom it joins, that it may leave nothing that may keep them at a distance, and hinder a perfect union and enjoyment.

This is what I would be at with you; and were I not in earnest in it, out of a sincere love of you, I would not be so foolish to rob myself of the only way wherein I might pretend to enter the lists with you. I am old and useless, and out of the way; all the real services are then like to be on your side. In words, expressions, and acknowledgment, there might have been perhaps some room to have made some offers of holding up to you. But I desire that nothing of the court guise may mix in our conversation. Put not, I beseech you, any thing into your letters to make me forget how much I am obliged to you by the liberty you allow me to tell you that I am, &c.

John Locke

24 June, 1703

Oates

Anthony Collins

TO THE SAME.

Sir,

Oates,

24 June, 1703.

MR. BOLDo, who leaves us to-day, intends to see you; and I cannot forbear going, as far as I can, to make the third in the company. Would my health second my desires, not only my name, and a few words of friendship, should go with him to you; but I myself would get to horse; and had I nothing else to do in town, I should think it worth a longer journey than it is thither, to see and enjoy you. But I must submit to the restraints of old age, and expect that happiness from your charity.

It is but six days since, that I writ to you; and see here another letter. You are like to be troubled with me. If it be so, why do you make yourself beloved? Why do you make yourself so necessary to me? I thought myself pretty loose from the world, but I feel you begin to fasten me to it again. For you make my life, since I have had your friendship, much more valuable to me than it was before.

You thanked me in your last, for the employment I gave you; I wish I do not make you repent it; for you are likely to have my custom. I desire you would do me the favour to get me Dr. Barrow’s English works, bound as Vossius’s Etymologicum was. I am in no manner of haste for them, and therefore you may get them from your bookseller in quires, when you go to his shop upon any other occasion; and put them to your binder at leisure. I have them for my own use already; these are to give away to a young lady here in the country. When they are bound, I desire your binder would pack them up carefully, and cover them with paper enough to keep their corners and edges from being hurt in the carriage. For carriers are a sort of brutes, and declared enemies to books. I am, &c.

John Locke

9 July, 1703

Oates

Anthony Collins

TO THE SAME.

Sir,

Oates,

9 July, 1703.

YOURS, of the 30th of June, I received just now, and cannot forbear a moment to tell you, that if there were any thing in my last letter, that gave you an occasion, after having mentioned disguise, to say, you “have made use of no way to show your esteem of me, but still your heart went with it,” I am very sorry for it. For, however I might think the expressions in your letter above what I could deserve, yet my blaming your excess of civility to me tended not to any doubt of the sincerity of your affection. Had I not been secure of that, I could not have talked to you with the same freedom I did, nor have endeavoured to persuade you, that you were lodged so near my heart as you are. Though my friendship be of very little value, or use; yet being the best thing I have to give, I shall not forwardly bestow it, where I do not think there is worth and sincerity; and therefore, pray, pardon me the forwardness wherewith I throw my arms about your neck; and holding you so, tell you, you must not hope, by any thing that looks like compliment, to keep me at a civiler, and more fashionable distance.

You comply with me, I see, by the rest of your letter; and you bear with my treating you with the familiarity of an established friendship. You pretend you have got the advantage by it. I wish it may be so; for I should be very glad there were any thing, wherein I could be useful to you. Find it out, I beseech you; and tell me of it, with as little ceremony and scruple, as you see I use with you.

The New Testament, you mentionp, I shall be glad to see, since Mr. Bold has told you how desirous I was to see it. I have expected one of them from Holland ever since they have been out; and so I hope to restore it to you again in a few days.

The other book, you mentionedq, I have seen; and am so well satisfied, by his 5th section, what a doughty ‘squire he is like to prove in the rest, that I think not to trouble myself to look farther into him. He has there argued very weakly against his adversary, but very strongly against himself.

But this will be better entertainment for you when we meet, than matter for a letter, wherein I make it my business to assure you, that I am, &c.

John Locke

10 September, 1703

Oates

Anthony Collins

TO THE SAME.

Sir,

Oates,

10 September, 1703.

YOURS of the 7th, which I just now received, is the only letter I have a long time wished for, and the welcomest that could come; for I longed to hear that you were well, that you were returned, and that I might have the opportunity to return you my thanks for the books you sent me, which came safe; and to acknowledge my great obligations to you for one of the most villainous books, that, I think, ever was printedr. It is a present that I highly value. I had heard something of it, when a young man in the university; but possibly should never have seen this quintessence of railing, but for your kindness. It ought to be kept as the pattern and standard of that sort of writing, as the man he spends it upon, for that of good temper, and clear and strong arguing. I am, &c.

John Locke

1 October, 1703

Oates

Anthony Collins

TO THE SAME.

Sir,

Oates,

1 October, 1703.

YOU are a good man, and one may depend upon your promise. This makes me pass my days in comfortable hopes, when I remember you are not far off. I have your word for it, and that is better than city-security. But for fear villainous business should impertinently step in again, between you and your kind purposes to us here; give me leave to beg the favour of you, that if you write again, before I have the happiness to see you, you will do me the favour to send me a note of what you have laid out for me, that I may pay you that part of the debt I am able, of what I owe you, and may not have so much to interrupt the advantages I am to reap from your conversation, when you honour me with your company, as an apology to be made, if I am not out of your debt before we meet.

Doth Mr. Le Clerc’s New Testament make any noise amongst the men of letters or divinity in your town? The divines of Brandenburg or Cleve have got the king of Prussia to prohibit it in his dominions; and the Walloon divines in Holland are soliciting the same at the Hague, but it is thought will not prevails. I have not yet heard what are the exceptions made in particular, either by the one, or the other. If there be need of authentic interpreters of the word of God, what is the way to find them out? That is worth your thinking of, unless you would have every one interpret for himself; and what work would that make? Betwixt these two, find something if you can; for the world is in want of peace, which is much better than everlasting Billingsgate.

I thought not to have troubled you with hard questions, or any thing that should have required a serious thought, any farther than what day you should pitch on to come hither. But everlasting wrangilng, and calling of names, is so odious a thing, that you will pardon me, if it puts me out of temper a little. But I think of you, and some few such as you in the world, and that reconciles me to it; or else it would not be worth staying in an hour. I am, &c.

John Locke

Yorkshire

Lady Calverley

A LETTER TO THE LADY CALVERLEY IN YORKSHIRE.

Madam,

WHATEVER reason you have to look on me, as one of the slow men of London, you have this time given me an excuse for being so; for you cannot expect a quick answer to a letter, which took me up a good deal of time to get to the beginning of it. I turned and turned it on every side; looked at it again and again, at the top of every page; but could not get into the sense and secret of it, till I applied myself to the middle.

You, madam, who are acquainted with all the skill and methods of the ancients, have not, I suppose, taken up with this hieroglyphical way of writing for nothing; and since you were going to put into your letter things that might be the reward of the highest merit, you would, by this mystical intimation, put me into the way of virtue, to deserve them.

But whatever your ladyship intended, this is certain, that, in the best words in the world, you gave me the greatest humiliation imaginable. Had I as much vanity as a pert citizen, that sets up for a wit in his parish, you have said enough in your letter to content me; and if I could be swoln that way, you have taken a great deal of pains to blow me up, and make me the finest gaudy bubble in the world, as I am painted by your colours. I know the emperors of the East suffer not strangers to appear before them, till they are dressed up out of their own wardrobes; is it so too in the empire of wit? and must you cover me with your own embroidery, that I may be a fit object for your thoughts and conversation? This, madam, may suit your greatness, but doth not at all satisfy my ambition. He, who has once flattered himself with the hopes of your friendship, knows not the true value of things, if he can content himself with these splendid ornaments.

As soon as I had read your letter, I looked in my glass, felt my pulse, and sighed; for I found, in neither of those, the promises of thirty years to come. For at the rate I have hitherto advanced, and at the distance, I see, by this complimental way of treatment, I still am, I shall not have time enough in this world to get to you. I do not mean to the place where you now see the pole elevated, as you say, 54 degrees. A post-horse, or a coach, would quickly carry me thither. But when shall we be acquainted at this rate? Is that happiness reserved to be completed by the gossiping bowl, at your grand-daughter’s lying-in?

If I were sure that, when you leave this dirty place, I should meet you in the same star where you are to shine next, and that you would then admit me to your conversation, I might perhaps have a little more patience. But, methinks, it is much better to be sure of something, than to be put off to expectations of so much uncertainty. If there be different elevations of the pole here, that keep you at so great a distance from those who languish in your absence; who knows but, in the other world, there are different elevations of persons? And you, perhaps, will be out of sight, among the seraphims, while we are left behind in some dull planet. This the high flights of your elevated genius give us just augury of, whilst you are here. But yet, pray take not your place there before your time; nor keep not us poor mortals at a greater distance than you need. When you have granted me all the nearness that acquaintance and friendship can give, you have other advantages enough still to make me see how much I am beneath you. This will be only an enlargement of your goodness, without lessening the adoration due to your other excellencies.

You seem to have some thoughts of the town again. If the parliament, or the term, which draw some by the name and appearance of business; or if company, and music meetings, and other such entertainments, which have the attractions of pleasure and delight, were of any consideration with you; you would not have much to say for Yorkshire, at this time of the year. But these are no arguments to you, who carry your own satisfaction, and I know not how many worlds always about you. I would be glad you would think of putting all these up in a coach, and bringing them this way. For though you should be never the better; yet there be a great many here that would, and amongst them

The humblest of your ladyship’s servants,

John Locke.

October 29, 1703

Oates

Anthony Collins

A LETTER TO ANTHONY COLLINS, ESQ.

Sir,

Oates,

October 29, 1703.

YOU, in yours of the 21st, say a great many very kind things: and I believe all that you say; and yet I am not very well satisfied with you. And how then is it possible to please you? will you be ready to say. Think that I am as much pleased with your company, as much obliged by your conversation, as you are by mine; and you set me at rest, and I am the most satisfied man in the world. You complain of a great many defects; and that very complaint is the highest recommendation I could desire, to make me love and esteem you, and desire your friendship. And if I were now setting out in the world, I should think it my great happiness to have such a companion as you, who had a true relish of truth, would in earnest seek it with me, from whom I might receive it undisguised, and to whom I might communicate what I thought true freely.

Believe it, my good friend, to love truth, for truth’s sake, is the principal part of human perfection in this world, and the seed-plot of all other virtues; and if I mistake not, you have as much of it as ever I met with in any body. What then is there wanting to make you equal to the best; a friend for any one to be proud of? Would you have me take upon me, because I have the start of you in the number of years, and be supercilious, conceited, for having in a long ramble travelled some countries, which a young voyager has not yet had time to see, and from whence one may be sure he will bring larger collections of solid knowledge?

In good earnest, Sir, when I consider how much of my life has been trifled away in beaten tracts, where I vamped on with others, only to follow those that went before us; I cannot but think I have just as much reason to be proud, as if I had travelled all England, and (if you will) France too, only to acquaint myself with the roads, and be able to tell how the highways lie, wherein those of equipage, and even the herd too, travel.

Now, methinks, (and these are often old men’s dreams,) I see openings to truth, and direct paths leading to it; wherein a little industry and application would settle one’s mind with satisfaction, even in those matters which you mention, and leave no darkness or doubt, even with the most scrupulous. But this is at the end of my day, when my sun is setting. And though the prospect it has given me be what I would not, for any thing, be without; there is so much irresistible truth, beauty, and consistency, in it; yet it is for one of your age, I think I ought to say for yourself, to set about it, as a work you would put into order, and oblige the world with.

You see whither my just thoughts of you have led me; and that I shall have no quarrel with you, if you will cease to set me, as you do, on the higher ground, and to think that I have not as much pleasure and satisfaction from your company as you have from mine. If I were able to live in your neighbourhood in town, I should quickly convince you of that; and you escape being haunted by me only by being out of my reach. A little better acquaintance will let you see that, in the communication of truth, between those who receive it in the love of it, he that answers, is no less obliged, than he who asks the question; and therefore you owe me not those mighty thanks you send me, for having the good luck to say something that pleased you. If it were good seed, I am sure it was soon in good ground, and may expect great increase.

I think you have a familiar, ready to dispatch what you undertake for your friends. How is it possible else, you should so soon procure for me Kircher’s Concordance? “Show me the man, and I will show you his cause;” will hold now-a-days almost in all other cases, as well as that of πϱοσϰυνεῖνt; and yet they must be all thought lovers and promoters of truth. But my letter is too long already, to enter into so copious a subject.

I am, &c.

John Locke

Nov. 16, 1703

Oates

Anthony Collins

TO THE SAME.

Sir,

Oates,

Nov. 16, 1703.

IF I ask you, how you do; it is because I am concerned for your health. If I ask you, whether you have sent me any books since you went to town; it is not that I am in haste for them, but to know how the carrier uses me. And if I ask, whether you are of Lincoln’s-Inn; it is to know of what place you write yourself, which I desire you to tell me in your next, and what good new books there are. I am, &c.

John Locke

Nov. 17, 1703

Oates

Anthony Collins

TO THE SAME.

Sir,

Oates,

Nov. 17, 1703.

THE books I received from you to-night, with the kind letter accompanying them, far more valuable than the books, give matter of enlarging myself this evening. The common offices of friendship, that I constantly receive from you, in a very obliging manner, give me scope enough, and afford me large matter of acknowledgment. But when I think of you, I feel something of nearer concernment that touches me; and that noble principle of the love of truth, which possesses you, makes me almost forget those other obligations, which I should be very thankful for to another.

In good earnest, sir, you cannot think what a comfort it is to me to ahve found out such a man; and not only so, but I have the satisfaction that he is my friend. This gives a gusto to all the good things you say to me, in your letter. For though I cannot attribute them to myself, (for I know my own defects too well,) yet I am ready to persuade myself you mean as you say; and to confess the truth to you, I almost loathe to undeceive you, so much do I value your good opinion.

But to set it upon the right ground, you must know that I am a poor ignorant man, and, if I have any thing to boast of, it is that I sincerely love and seek truth, with indifferency whom it pleases or displeases. I take you to be of the same school, and so embrace you. And if it please God to afford me so much life as to see you again, I shall communicate to you some of my thoughts tending that way.

You need not make any apology for any book that is not yet come. I thank you for those you have sent me; they are more, I think, than I shall use; for the indisposition of my health has beaten me almost quite out of the use of books; and the growing uneasiness of my distempera makes me good for nothing. I am, &c.

John Locke

January 24, 1703-4

Oates

Anthony Collins

TO THE SAME.

Sir,

Oates,

January 24, 1703-4.

TILL your confidence in my friendship, and freedom with me, can preserve you from thinking you have need to make apologies for your silence, whenever you omit a post or two, when in your kind way of reckoning, you judge a letter to be due; you know me not so well as I could wish; nor am I so little burthensome to you as I desire. I could be pleased to hear from you every day; because the very thoughts of you, every day, afford me pleasure and satisfaction. But I beseech you to believe, that I measure not your kindness by your opportunities of writing; nor do suspect that your friendship flattens, whenever your pen lies a little still. The sincerity you profess, and I am convinced of, has charms in it, against all the little phantoms of ceremony. If it be not so, that true friendship sets one free from a scrupulous observance of all those little circumstances, I shall be able to give but a very ill account of myself to my friends; to whom, when I have given possession of my heart, I am less punctual in making of legs, and kissing my hand, than to other people to whom that out-side civility is all that belongs.

I received the three books you sent me. That which the author sent mea deserves my acknowledgment more ways than one; and I must beg you to return it. His demonstrations are so plain, that, if this were an age that followed reason, I should not doubt but his would prevail. But to be rational is so glorious a thing, that two-legged creatures generally content themselves with the title; but will not debase so excellent a faculty, about the conduct of so trivial a thing, as they make themselves.

There never was a man better suited to your wishes than I am. You take a pleasure in being troubled with my commissions; and I have no other way of commerce with you, but by such importunities. I can only say, that, were the tables changed, I should, being in your place, have the same satisfaction; and therefore confidently make use of your kind offer. I therefore beg the favour of you to get me Mr. Le Clerc’s “Harmony of the Evangelists” in English, bound very finely in calf, gilt, and lettered on the back, and gilt on the leaves. So also I would have Moliere’s works (of the best edition you can get them) bound. These books are for ladies; and therefore I would have them fine, and the leaves gilt as well as the back. Moliere of the Paris edition, I think is the best, if it can be got in London in quires. You see the liberty I take. I should be glad you could find out something for me to do for you here. I am perfectly, &c.

John Locke

Feb. 7, 1703-4

Oates

Anthony Collins

TO THE SAME.

Sir,

Oates,

Feb. 7, 1703-4.

IT is with regret I consider you so long in Essex, without enjoying you any part of the time. Essex, methinks, (pardon the extravagancy, extraordinary passions and cases excuse it,) when you are to go into it, should all be Oates; and your journey be no whither, but thither. But land and tenements say other things, whilst we have carcases that must be clothed and fed; and books, you know, the fodder of our understandings. cannot be had without them. What think you? are not those spirits in a fine state that need none of all this luggage; that live without ploughing and sowing; travel as easy as we wish; and inform themselves, not by a tiresome rummaging in the mistakes and jargon of pretenders to knowledge, but by looking into things themselves?

Sir, I forgot you had an estate in the country, a library in town, friends every-where, amongst which you are to while away, as pleasantly, I hope, as any one of this our planet, a large number of years (if my wishes may prevail) yet to come; and am got, I know not how, into remote visions, that help us not in our present state, though they show us something of a better. To return therefore to myself and you, I conclude, by this time, you are got to town again, and then, in a little time, I shall hear from you. I am, &c.

John Locke

Feb. 21, 1703-4

Oates

Anthony Collins

TO THE SAME.

Sir,

Oates,

Feb. 21, 1703-4.

I MUST acknowledge it as an effect of your zeal to serve me, that you have sent me Le Clerc’s Harmony, and Moliere’s works, by the Bishop-Stortford coach; and I return you my thanks as much as if it exactly answered my purpose. I ought not to think it strange, that you in town, amidst a hurry of business, should not keep precisely in mind my little affairs; when I here, where I have nothing to disturb my thoughts, do so often forget. When I wrote to you to do me the favour to get these books for me carefully bound, I think I made it my request to you, I am sure I intended it, to write word when they were done, and then I would acquaint you how they were to be disposed of; for the truth is, they were to be disposed of in town. But whether I only meant this, and said nothing; or you forgot it; the matter is not much. I expect to receive the books to-morrow, and shall do well enough with them.

I should not have taken notice of this to you at all, did I not intend it for an excuse for an ill-mannered thing, very necessary in business, which perhaps you will find me use with you for the future; which is, to repeat the little circumstances of business which are apt to be forgotten in every letter till the danger be over. This, if you observe to do, will prevent many cross accidents in your affairs; I assure it you upon experience.

I desire you to stop your hand a little, and forbear putting to the press the two discourses you mentiona. They are very touchy subjects at this time; and that good man, who is the author, may, for aught I know, be crippled by those, who will be sure to be offended at him, right or wrong. Remember what you say, a little lower in your letter, in the case of another friend of yours, “that in the way of reason they are not to be dealt with.”

It will be a kindness to get a particular account of those proceedingsa; but therein must be contained the day, the names of those present, and the very words of the order or resolution; and to learn, if you can, from whence it had its rise. When these particulars are obtained, it will be fit to consider what use to make of them. In the mean time I take what has been done, as a recommendation of that book to the world, as you do; and I conclude, when you and I meet next, we shall be merry upon the subject. For this is certain, that because some men wink, or turn away their heads, and will not see, others will not consent to have their eyes put out. I am, &c.

John Locke

Feb. 24, 1703-4

Oates

Anthony Collins

TO THE SAME.

Sir,

Oates,

Feb. 24, 1703-4.

YOU know me not yet as you ought, if you do not think I live with you with the same confidence I do with myself, and with the same sincerity of affection too. This makes me talk to you with the same freedom I think; which though it has not all the ceremony of good breeding, yet it makes amends with something more substantial, and is of better relish in the stomach. Believe it, therefore, that you need not trouble yourself with apologies for having sent the books hither. You have obliged me as much by it, as you could by any thing of that nature, which I had desired; neither need you be concerned for the future. It is convenient to make it a rule not to let one’s friends forget little circumstances, whereby such cross purposes sometimes happen; but when they do happen between friends, they are to be made matter of mirth.

The gentleman that writ you the letter, which you sent to me, is an extraordinary man, and the fittest in the world to go on with that inquiry. Pray, let him, at any rate, get the precise time, the persons present, and the minutes of the register taken of their proceedings; and this without noise, or seeming concern to have them, as much as may be; and I would beg you not to talk of this matter, till we have got the whole matter of fact, which will be a pleasant story, and of good use.

I wish the books, you mentioneda, were not gone to the press, and that they might not be printed; for when they are printed, I am sure they will get abroad; and then it will be too late to wish it had not been so. However, if the fates will have it so, and their printing cannot be avoided; yet, at least, let care be taken to conceal his name. I doubt not of his reasoning right, and making good his points; but what will that boot, if he and his family should be disturbed or diseased?

I shall, as you desire, send Moliere, and Le Clerc, back to you, by the first opportunity. I am, with perfect sincerity and respect, &c.

John Locke

28 February, 1703-4

Oates

Anthony Collins

TO THE SAME.

Sir,

Oates,

28 February, 1703-4.

I SAW the packet was exactly well made up, and I knew the books in it were well bound; whereupon I let it alone, and was likely to have sent it back to you unopened; but my good genius would not suffer me to lose a letter of yours in it, which I value more than all the books it accompanied. Since my last therefore to you, I opened the packet, and therein found yours of the 16th instant, which makes me love and value you, if it were possible, more than I did before: you having therein, in short, so well described, wherein the happiness of a rational creature in this world consists; though there are very few that make any other use of their half employed and undervalued reason, but to bandy against it. It is well as you observe, that they agree as ill with one another as they do with common sense. For when, by the influence of some prevailing head, they all lean one way; truth is sure to be borne down, and there is nothing so dangerous, as to make any inquiry after her; and to own her, for her own sake, is a most unpardonable crime.

You ask me how I like the binding of Moliere, and Le Clerc. You will wonder to hear me say, not at all; but you must take the other part of my answer, which is, nor do I dislike it. It is probable, that this yet doth not satisfy you, after you have taken such especial care with your binder, that they should be exactly well done. Know then, that upon moving the first book, having luckily espied your letter, I only just looked into it to see the Paris print of Moliere; and without so much as taking it out of the paper it was wrapped up in, cast my eye upon the cover, which looked very fine, and curiously done, and so put it up again, hasting to your letter. This was examining more than enough, of books whose binding you had told me you had taken care of; and more than enough, for a man who had your letter in his hand unopened.

Pray send me word what you think or hear of Dr. Pitt’s last booka. For as for the first of the other authors you mentionb, by what I have seen of him already, I can easily think his arguments not worth your reciting. And as for the other, though he has parts, yet that is not all which I require in an author I am covetous of, and expect to find satisfaction in.

Pray, forget not to write to your friend in Oxford, to the purpose I mentioned in my last to you. I am, &c.

John Locke

6 March, 1703-4

Oates

Anthony Collins

TO THE SAME.

Sir,

Oates,

6 March, 1703-4.

WERE you of Oxenford itself, bred under those sharp heads, which were for damning my book, because of its discouraging the staple commodity of the place; which in my time was called hogs-shearing, (which is, as I hear, given out for the cause of their decree); you could not be a more subtle disputant than you are. You do every thing that I desire of you, with the utmost care and concern; and because I understand and accept it so, you contend that you are the party obliged. This, I think, requires some of the most refined logic to make good; and if you will have me believe it, you must forbid me too to read my own book, and oblige me to take to my help more learned and scholastic notions. But the mischief is, I am too old to go to school again; and too resty now to study arts, however authorized, or wherever taught, to impose upon my own understanding. Let me therefore, if you please, be sensible of your kindness; and I give you leave to please yourself, with my interpreting them as I ought, as much as you think fit. For it would be hard in me to deny you so small a satisfaction, where I receive so great and real advantage.

To convince you, that you are not like to lose what you so much value, and is all you can expect in our commerce, I put into your hands a fresh opportunity of doing something for me, which I shall have reason to take well. I have this day sent back the bundle of books. I have taken what care I can to secure them from any harm, that might threaten them in the carriage. For I should be extremely vexed that books, so curiously finished by your care, should be in the least injured, or lose any thing of their perfect beauty, till they came to the hands, for whom they are designed.

You have you see by your kind offer drawn upon yourself a farther trouble with them, which was designed for my cousin King. But he setting out for the circuit to-morrow morning, I must beg you that may be my excuse for taking this liberty with you. Moliere’s works are for the countess of Peterborough, which I desire you to present to her from me, with the enclosed for her, and my most humble service. I am in truth, &c.

John Locke

13 March, 1703-4

Oates

Anthony Collins

TO THE SAME.

Sir,

Oates,

13 March, 1703-4.

IF the disputers of this world were but half so good at doing as you, the mart of logic and syllogisms would no doubt be the only place for the young fry “ad capiendum ingenii cultum;” (pardon, I beseech you, this scrap of Latin, my thoughts were in a place that authorises it, and one cannot chop logic half so well in unlearned modern vulgar languages.) But the traders in subtilty have not your way of recommending it, by turning it into substantial solidity, whereby you prevail so much on me, that I can scarce avoid being persuaded by you, that when I send you of a jaunt beyond Piccadilly, you are the person obliged, and I ought to expect thanks of you for it. Excuse me, I entreat you, if, for decency’s sake, I stop a little short of that; and let it satisfy you, that I believe, nay such is the power of your logic, that I cannot help believing, that you spare no pains for your friends, and that you take a pleasure in doing me kindness. All that remains for me to ask of you, is to do me this right in your turn, to believe I am not insensible of your favours, and know how to value such a friend.

Though you saw not my lady, when you delivered Moliere and my letter at her house; yet had you no message from her? Or did you not go in, or stay, when you heard she was indisposed?

Mr. Le Clerc’s Harmony is for Mr. Secretary Johnston’s lady. The book sent to his lodgings, with a note to inform him, that it is for his lady from me, will do the business; so that for this errand, I am glad your servant is sufficient without sending you; for you must give me leave sometimes on such occasions to be a little stingy, and sparing of my favours.

I perceive, by the enclosed you did me the favour to send me, that those worthy heads are not yet grown up to perfect infallibility. I am sorry however that their mighty thoughts wanted utterance. However, I would very gladly know the true matter of fact, and what was really proposed, resolved, or done; this, if possible, I would be assured of, that I might not be mistaken in what gratitude I ought to have.

You baulked my having the bishop of St. Asaph’sa sermon, by telling my cousin King, that I care not for sermons; and, at the same time, you send my lady plays. This has raised a dispute between her ladyship and me, which of us two it is, you think best of. Methinks you are of opinion, that my lady is well enough satisfied with the unreformed stage; but that I should be glad, that some things were reformed in the pulpit itself. The result is, that my lady thinks it necessary for you to come, and appease these broils you have raised in the family. I am, &c.

John Locke

21 March, 1703-4

Oates

Anthony Collins

TO THE SAME.

Sir,

Oates,

21 March, 1703-4.

GIVE me leave to tell you, sir, that you are mistaken in me. I am not a young lady, a beauty, and a fortune. And unless you thought me all this, and designed your addresses to me; how is it possible you should be afraid you acquitted not yourself well in my commission beyond Piccadilly? Your waiting in the parlour a quarter of an hour was more than any reasonable man could demand of you; and if either of us ought to be troubled in the case, it is I, because you did so much; and not you, because you did so little. But the reality of your friendship has so blended our concerns into one, that you will not permit me to observe, whether I do, or receive the favour, in what passes between us; and I am almost persuaded by you to believe, that sitting here by the fire I trudge up and down for you in London. Give me leave however to thank you, as if you had delivered Mr. Le Clerc’s Harmony to Mr. Secretary Johnston for me, and sent me the two bibles, which I received.

As for the rummaging over Mr. Norris’s late booka, I will be sworn, it is not I have done that; for however I may be mistaken in what passes without me, I am infallible in what passes in my own mind; and I am sure, the ideas that are put together in your letter out of him, were never so in my thoughts, till I saw them there. What did I say, “put ideas together?” I ask your pardon, it is “put words together without ideas;” just as I should suspect I did, if I should say you disparaged a very good straight ruler I had, if you told me it would not enable me to write sense, though it were very good and useful, to show me whether I writ straight or no.

Men of Mr. Norris’s way seem to me to decree, rather than to argue. They, against all evidence of sense and reason, decree brutes to be machines, only because their hypothesis requires it; and then with a like authority, suppose, as you rightly observe, what they should prove: viz. that whatsoever thinks, is immaterial. Cogitation, says Mr. Norris, “is more excellent than motion, or vegetation; and therefore must belong to another substance than that of matter, in the idea whereof, motion and vegetation are contained.” This latter part, I think, would be hard for him to prove, viz. “that motion and vegetation are contained in the idea of the substance of matter.” But to let that pass at present; I ask, whether if this way of arguing be good, it will not turn upon him thus: “If the idea of a spirit does not comprehend motion and vegetation; then they must belong to another substance than a spirit: and therefore are more excellent than cogitation, or the affections of a spirit.” For if its greater excellency proves any mode or affection to “belong to another substance;” will not its “belonging to another substance,” by the same rule, prove it to be more excellent? But this is only to deal with these men of logic and subtilty, in their own way, who use the term “excellent,” to prove a material question by, without having, as you remark, a clear and determined idea of what they mean by more or less excellent.

But not to waste your time, in playing with the arguments of men, that examine not strictly the meaning of the words they use; I will show you the fallacy whereby they impose on themselves; for such talkers commonly cozen themselves, as well as others. Cogitation, say they, “is not comprehended in the idea of extension and solidity;” for that is it which they mean, when they say, the “idea of matter:” from whence they conclude right, that “cogitation belongs not to extension or solidity; or is not included in either of them, or both together;” but this is not the consequence that they draw, but infer a conclusion that is not contained in the premises, and is quite besides them; as Mr. Norris, if he would make use of syllogism to its proper purpose, might see. Extension, and solidity, we have the ideas of; and see, that cogitation has no necessary connexion with them, nor has any consequential result from them; and therefore is not a proper affection of extension and solidity, nor doth naturally belong to them; but how doth it follow from hence, that it may not be made an affection of, or be annexed to that substance, which is vested with solidity and extension? Of this substance we have no idea that excludes cogitation, any more than solidity. Their conclusion, therefore, should be the exclusion of cogitation from the substance of matter, and not from the other affections of that substance. But they either overlook this, which is the true state of that argument, or else avoid to set it in its clear light; lest it show too plainly, that their great argument either proves nothing, or, if it doth, it is against them.

What you say about my Essay of Human Understanding, that nothing can be advanced against it, but upon the principle of innate ideas, is certainly so; and therefore all who do not argue against it, from innate ideas, in the sense I speak of innate ideas; though they make a noise against me, yet at last they so draw and twist their improper ways of speaking, which have the appearance and sound of contradiction to me, that at last they state the question so, as to leave no contradiction in it to my Essay; as you have observed in Mr. Leea, Mr. Lowdeb, and Mr. Norris in his late treatise. It is reward enough for the writing my book, to have the approbation of one such a reader as you are. You have done me and my book a great honour, in having bestowed so much of your thoughts upon it. You have a comprehensive knowledge of it, and do not stick in the incidents: which I find many people do; which, whether true or false, make nothing to the main design of the Essay, that lies in a little compass; and yet I hope, may be of great use to those who see and follow that plain and easy method of nature, to carry them the shortest and clearest way to knowledge. Pardon me this vanity; it was with a design of inquiring into the nature and powers of the understanding, that I writ it; and nothing but the hope that it might do some service to truth and knowledge, could excuse the publishing of it.

I know not, whether I ever showed you an occasional sketch of mine, about “seeing all things in God.” If I did not, if it please God I live to see you here again, I will show it youa; and some other things. If you will let me know before-hand, when you design us that favour; it will be an addition to it. I beg your pardon for holding you so long from better employment. I do not, you see, willingly quit your conversation. If you were nearer me, you would see it more, for I am, &c.

John Locke

3 April, 1704

Oates

Anthony Collins

TO THE SAME.

Sir,

Oates,

3 April, 1704.

IN good sooth, sir, you are an obstinate lover; there is no help for it, you must carry your point. Only give me leave to tell you, that I do not like the puling fit you fall into, at the lower end of the page; where you tell me, “I have given you an argument against presuming so far again upon the liberty I allow you.” That is to say, you may give me books, you may buy books for me, you may get books bound for me, you may trudge up and down with them on my errand to ladies; but my book you may not presume to read, use your judgment about, and talk to me freely of; though I know nobody that understands it so well, nor can give me better light concerning it. Away with this squeamishness, I beseech you; and be assured, that among the many good offices you daily do for me in London, there is none whereby I shall reap so much profit and pleasure, as your studying for me; and let us both, without scruple or reserve, help one another the best we can, in the way to truth and knowledge. And whenever you find me presume, that I know all that belongs to the subject of my own book, and disdain to receive light and instruction from another, though of much lower form than you; conclude that I am an arrant coxcomb, and know nothing at all.

You will see by the enclosed, that I can find business for you at Oxford, as well as at London. I have left it open, that you may read it before you seal and deliver it. In it you will see what he writ to me, on that affair. He is well acquainted with them in the university; and if he has not, may be prevailed on by you to fish out the bottom of that matter, and inform you in all the particulars of it. But you must not take his conjectures for matter of fact; but know his authors, for any matter of fact he affirms to you. You will think I intend to engage you in a thousand disputes with him; quite the contrary. You may avoid all dispute with him; if you will but say after him; though you put him upon things that show you question all he says.

If Mr. Wynne of Jesus-College, who epitomised my booka, be in the university, it is like you will see him, and talk to him of the matter. Pray, give him my service. But be sure, forget me not, with all manner of respect, to Mr. Wright, for whom I have, as I ought, a very peculiar esteem.

I hope you will be pleased with me: for you see I have cut out work for you; and that is all that is left for me to do, to oblige you. I am, &c.

John Locke

19 May, 1704

Oates

Anthony Collins

TO THE SAME.

Dear Sir,

Oates,

19 May, 1704.

NOTHING works so steadily and effectually as friendship. Had I hired a man to have gone to town in my business, and paid him well, my commissions would not have been so soon, nor so well dispatched, as I find, by yours of the 16th, they have been by you. You speak of my affairs, and act in them with such an air of interest and satisfaction, that I can hardly avoid thinking, that I oblige you with employing you in them. It is no small advantage to me, to have found such a friend, at the last scene of my life; when I am good for nothing, and am grown so useless, that I cannot but be sure that, in every good office you do me, you can propose to yourself no other advantage but the pleasure of doing it.

Every one here finds himself obliged, by your late good company. As for myself, if you had not convinced me by a sensible experiment, I could not have believed I could have had so many happy days together. I shall always pray that yours may be multiplied. Could I, in the least, contribute any thing thereunto, I should think myself happy in this poor decaying state of my health; which, though it affords me little in this world to enjoy, yet I find the charms of your company make me not feel the want of strength, or breath, or any thing else.

The bishop of Glocester came hither the day you went from hence, and in no very good state of health. I find two groaning people make but an uncomfortable concert. He returned yesterday, and went away in somewhat a better state. I hope he got well to town.

Enjoy your health, and youth, whilst you have it, to all the advantages and improvements of an innocent and pleasant life; remembering that merciless old age is in pursuit of you, and when it overtakes you, will not fail, some way or other, to impair the enjoyments both of body and mind. You know how apt I am to preach. I believe it is one of the diseases of old age. But my friends will forgive me, when I have nothing to persuade them to, but that they should endeavour to be as happy as it is possible for them to be; and to you I have no more to say, but that you go on in the course you are in. I reflect often upon it, with a secret joy, that you promised I should, in a short time, see you again. You are very good, and I dare not press you. But I cannot but remember how well I passed my time, when you were here. I am, &c.

John Locke

25 May, 1704

Oates

Anthony Collins

TO THE SAME.

Dear Sir,

Oates,

25 May, 1704.

WHEN you come to my age, you will know that, with us old fellows, convenient always carries it before ornamental. And I would have as much of the free air when I go abroad in ita, as is possible. Only I ask whether those, which fall back, so as to give as free a prospect behind as before, be as easily managed, and brought over you again, in case of need, as in a shower; as one that falls back, upon two standing corner pillars? And next, whether that which falls back so well, doth, when it is drawn up over you, come so far over your head, when it is erected, as to shelter it from the dew, without shutting you up from the free open air? For I think sometimes in the evening of a warm day to sit abroad in it, to take the fresco; but would have a canopy over my head, to keep the dew off. If this be so, I am plainly, and without balancing, for that which falls flattest. One question more, and I have done. Pray what place is there for a footman in any of them? Most of my time being spent in sitting, I desire special care may be taken, in making the seat broad enough, and the two cushions soft, plump, and thick enough.

You know I have great liking to be canonical; but I little thought, that you, of all others, was the man to make me so. I shall love it the better for your sake; and wish that canonical were ready, that you might have the handselling of it hither speedily. If I did not take you for myself, as you have taught me to do, I should not be thus free with you. Count me in your turn all yourself, except my age and infirmities, those I desire to keep to myself; all the rest of me is yours.

John Locke

26 May, 1704

Oates

Anthony Collins

TO THE SAME.

Dear Sir,

Oates,

26 May, 1704.

MY letter yesterday went away without an answer to one of your demands; and that was, whether I would have any brass on the harness? To which, give me leave to tell you, that, in my whole life, I have been constantly against any thing that makes a show; no maxim being more agreeable to my condition and temper, than “qui bene latuit bene vixit.” I like to have things substantially good of their kind, and useful, and handsomely made, and fitly adapted to their uses; for, if either were necessary, I had rather be taken notice of for something that is fashionably gaudy, than ridiculously uncouth, or for its poorness and meanness remarkable. Therefore, if you please, let the harness, and all the whole accoutrements be of as good materials, and as handsomely made and put together as may be; but for ornaments of brass, or any such thing, I desire it may be spared.

One question more comes into my mind to ask you, and that is, whether the back of those, that fall down so flat, are so made that, when it is up, one may lean and loll against it at one’s ease, as in a coach or a chariot; for I am grown a very lazy fellow, and have now three easy chairs to lean and loll in, and would not be without that relief in my chaise.

You see I am as nice as a young fond girl, that is coming into the world, with a face and a fortune, as she presumes, to command it. Let not this, however, deter you; for I shall not be so hard to be pleased. For what you do will be as if I did it myself. I am, &c.

John Locke

29 May, 1704

Oates

Anthony Collins

TO THE SAME.

Dear Sir,

Oates,

29 May, 1704.

HOW should I value the chaise you take so much ains about, if I could hope I could have your company with me abroad in it, every two or three days. However, it wears the signature of your friendship, and so will always have something in it to please me.

I know not whether it be worth while to clog it with any thing, to make a place for a footman. That must, I suppose, make it bigger and heavier, which I would avoid; and I think, upon the whole matter, there will be no great need of it. But when I hear from you again, I shall know that. In the mean time, all the rest, I think, is resolved; for, I suppose of course, you will choose a cloth for the lining of a dust colour; that is the proper colour for such a priest as you mention in your letter.

If poor Psalmanassar be really a convert from paganism (which I would be glad to be assured of); he has very ill luck, not to herd any-where among the variety of sorts that are among us. But I think it so, that the parties are more for doing one another harm, than for doing any body good. I am, &c.

John Locke

9 June, 1704

Oates

Anthony Collins

TO THE SAME.

Dear Sir,

Oates,

9 June, 1704.

I MIGHT number my days (and it is a pleasant sort of almanac) by the kindnesses I receive from you. Your packet I received, and have reason to thank you for all the particulars in it; however, you thought fit to prepare me for being disappointed, in the binding my Greek Testament. There is nothing in it that offends me, but the running of his paring knife too deep into the margin; a knavish and intolerable fault in all our English book-binders.

Books seem to me to be pestilent things, and infect all that trade in them; that is, all but one sort of men, with something very perverse and brutal. Printers, binders, sellers, and others that make a trade and gain out of them; have universally so odd a turn and corruption of mind, that they have a way of dealing peculiar to themselves, and not conformed to the good of society, and that general fairness that cements mankind.

Whether it be, that these instruments of truth and knowledge will not bear being subjected to any thing but those noble ends, without revenging themselves on those who meddle with them to any other purpose, and prostitute them to mean and misbecoming designs; I will not inquire. The matter of fact, I think, you will find true; and there we will leave it to those who sully themselves with printer’s ink, till they wholly expunge all the candour that nature gives, and become the worst sort of black cattle.

John Locke

June 29, 1704

Oates

Anthony Collins

TO THE SAME.

Dear Sir,

Oates,

June 29, 1704.

IF the chaise you have had so much trouble about gives me as much satisfaction afterwards, as it will in the first service I shall receive from it; the conquerors of the world will not ride in their triumphant chariots with more pleasure, than I shall in my little tumbrel. It will bring me what I prefer to glory. For, methinks, he understands but little of the true sweetness of life, that doth not more relish the conversation of a worthy and ingenuous friend in retirement, than the noise and rout of the crowd in the streets, with all their acclamations and huzzas. I long, therefore, that the machine should be dispatched; and expect it as greedily as a hungry merchant doth a ship from the East-Indies, which is to bring him a rich cargo. I hope the coachmaker doth not live far from you; for if he be a slow man of London, I would have him quickened once a day, that he may make as much haste as if the satisfaction of two lovers depended on his dispatch. In the mean time, give me leave to desire you to bestow some of your spare hours on the epistles to the Corinthians, and to try whether you can find them intelligible or no. You will easily guess the reason of thisa; and when I have you here, I hope to convince you it will not be lost labour; only permit me to tell you, you must read them with something more than an ordinary application.

The samples you have sent meb, I must conclude, from the abilities of the author, to be very excellent. But what shall I be the better for the most exact and best proportioned picture that ever was drawn, if I have not eyes to see the correspondence of the parts? I confess the lines are too subtile for me, and my dull sight cannot perceive their connections. I am not envious, and therefore shall not be troubled, if others find themselves instructed with so extraordinary and sublime a way of reasoning. I am content with my own mediocrity. And though I call the thinking faculty in me, mind; yet I cannot, because of that name, equal it in any thing to that infinite and incomprehensible being, which, for want of right and distinct conceptions, is called mind also, or the eternal mind. I endeavour to make the best use I can of every thing; and therefore, though I am in despair to be the wiser for these learned instructions; yet I hope I shall be the merrier for them, when you and I take an air in the calash together. I am, &c.

John Locke

July 23, 1704

Oates

Anthony Collins

TO THE SAME.

Dear Sir,

Oates,

July 23, 1704.

THE gentlemen you speak of, have a great deal of reason to be pleased with the Discoursec you mention; there being nothing ever writ in their strain and way more perfectly than it is; and it may stand for a pattern to those that have a mind to excel in their admirable use of language and method of talking; if, at least, there be any need of a pattern to those, who so naturally, and by a peculiar genius of their own, fall into that, which the profane illiterate vulgar, poor wretches, are strangers to, and cannot imitate. But more of this to make us merry, when the chaise brings us together.

I now every moment wish the chaise done; not out of any impatience I am for the machine, but for the man; the man, I say, that is to come in it. A man, that has not his fellow; and, to all that, loves me. If I regret my old age, it is you that make me, and call me back to the world just as I was leaving it, and leaving it as a place that has very little valuable in it; but who would not be glad to spend some years with you? Make haste, therefore, and let me engross what of you I can. I am, &c.

John Locke

August 2, 1704

Oates

Anthony Collins

TO THE SAME.

Dear Sir,

Oates,

August 2, 1704.

THOUGH I cannot, by writing, make you a surer title to myself than you have already; yet I cannot forbear to acknowledge, under my hand and seal, the great sense I have of the late favour you did me. Whether that, or any thing else, will be able to add any duration to my mouldering carcase, I cannot say; but this I am sure, your company and kindness have added to the length of my life, which, in my way of measuring, doth not lie in counting of minutes, but tasting of enjoyments. I wish the continuance and increase of yours, without stint, and am, &c.

John Locke

August 11, 1704

Oates

Anthony Collins

TO THE SAME.

Dear Sir,

Oates,

August 11, 1704.

KIND and good-natured friends do, like you, bestow their favours, and thank those that receive them. I was never more obliged, nor better entertained, than by your company here; and you heap upon me your acknowledgments, as if I had made a journey to London for your sake, and there done you I know not how many courtesies. This, however, has the effect you could wish upon me. I believe all that you would have me. And since one naturally loves as well those that one has done good to, as those whom one has received good from; I leave it to you, to manage the account as you please. So the affection and good-will between us doth but increase, whose hands lay most fuel on the fire, that warms us both, I shall not be nicely solicitous; since I am sure you cannot impute to me more than I really wish, but at the same time know that wishing in me is all, for I can do just nothing. Make no apologies to me, I beseech you, for what you said to me about the digressiona. It is no more, but what I find other people agree with you in; and it would afford as much diversion as any hunting you could imagine, had I strength and breadth enough to pursue the chace.

But of this we may, perhaps, have better opportunity to talk, when I see you next. For this I tell you beforehand, I must not have you be under any restraint to speak to me, whatever you think fit for me to do; whether I am of the same mind or no. The use of a friend is to persuade us to the right, not to suppose always that we are in it. I am, &c.

John Locke

August 16, 1704

Oates

Anthony Collins

TO THE SAME.

Dear Sir,

Oates,

August 16, 1704.

WHICH way soever I turn myself, I meet on all sides your friendship, in all manner of shapes, and upon all sorts of occasions, besetting me. Were I as averse, as I am pleased, with my happiness in your kindness; I must, however, yield to so powerful and constant attacksa. But it is past that time of day. I have long since surrendered myself to you. And I am as certainly in your coach, as count Tallard in the duke of Marlborough’s, to be disposed as you please; only with this difference, that he was a prisoner of war against his will; I am your captive, by the soft, but stronger, force of your irresistible obligations, and with the consent and joy of my own mind.

Judge then, whether I am willing my shadow should be in possession of one with whom my heart is; and to whom all that I am, had I any thing besides my heart, worth the presenting, doth belong. Sir Godfrey, I doubt not, will make it very like. If it were possible for his pencil to make a speaking picture, it should tell you every day how much I love and esteem you; and how pleased I am to be, so much as in effigy, near a person with whom I should be glad to spend an age to come. I am, &c.

John Locke

September 11, 1704

Oates

Anthony Collins

TO THE SAME.

Dear Sir,

Oates,

September 11, 1704.

HE that has any thing to do with you, must own that friendship is the natural product of your constitution; and your soul, a noble soil, is enriched with the two most valuable qualities of human nature, truth and friendship. What a treasure have I then in such a friend, with whom I can converse, and be enlightened about the highest speculations! When one hears you upon the principles of knowledge, or the foundations of government, one would hardly imagine your thoughts ever descended to a brush, or a curry-comb, or other such trumpery of life; and yet, if one employ you but to get a pair of shoe-buckles, you are as ready and dexterous at it, as if the whole business of your life had been with nothing but shoe-buckles.

As to my lady’s picture, pray, in the first place, see it, and tell me how you like it. In the next place, pray get Sir Godfrey to write upon it, on the back-side, lady Masham, 1704; and on the back-side of mine, John Locke, 1704. This he did on Mr. Molyneux’s and mine, the last he drew; and this is necessary to be done, or else the pictures of private persons are lost in two or three generations; and so the picture loses of its value, it being not known whom it was made to represent.

John Locke

October 1, 1704

Oates

Anthony Collins

TO THE SAME.

Dear Sir,

Oates,

October 1, 1704.

TO complete the satisfaction I have lately had here, there has been nothing wanting but your company. The coming of his father-in-lawa, joined with the straitness of the lodging in this house, hindered me from having my cousin King and you together; and so cut off one part of the enjoyment, which you know is very valuable to me. I must leave it to your kindness and charity, to make up this loss to me. How far the good company I have had here has been able to raise me into a forgetfulness of the decays of age, and the uneasiness of my indisposition, my cousin King is judge. But this I believe he will assure you, that my infirmities prevail so fast on me, that, unless you make haste hither, I may lose the satisfaction of ever seeing again a man, that I value in the first rank of those that I leave behind meb.

John Locke

August 23, 1704

Oates

Anthony Collins

TO THE SAME. [DIRECTED THUS:]

For ANTHONY COLLINS, Esq.

To be delivered to him after my decease.

Dear Sir,

Oates,

August 23, 1704.

BY my will, you will see that I had some kindness for . And I knew no better way to take care of him, than to put him, and what I designed for him, into your hands and management. The knowledge I have of your virtue, of all kinds, secures the trust which, by your permission, I have placed in you; and the peculiar esteem and love I have observed in the young man for you, will dispose him to be ruled and influenced by you, so that of that I need say nothing.

But there is one thing, which it is necessary for me to recommend to your especial care and memory

May you live long and happy in the enjoyment of health, freedom, content, and all those blessings which providence has bestowed on you, and your virtue entitles you to. I know you loved me living, and will preserve my memory now I am dead. All the use to be made of it is, that this life is a scene of vanity, that soon passes away; and affords no solid satisfaction, but in the consciousness of doing well, and in the hopes of another life. This is what I can say upon experience; and what you will find to be true, when you come to make up the account. Adieu; I leave my best wishes with you.

John Locke.

July 23, 1703

Oates

Mr. Richard King

A LETTER TO THE REVEREND MR. RICHARD KING.

Sir,

Oates,

July 23, 1703.

I CANNOT but think myself beholden to any occasion that procures me the honour of a letter from you. I return my acknowledgments for those great expressions of civility, and marks of friendship, I received in yours of the 8th instant; and wish I had the opportunity to show the esteem I have of your merit, and the sense of your kindness to me, in any real service.

The desire of your friend, in the enclosed letter you sent me, is what of myself I am inclined to satisfy; and am only sorry, that so copious a subject has lost, in my bad memory, so much of what heretofore I could have said concerning that great and good man, of whom he inquiresa. Time, I daily find, blots out apace the little stock of my mind, and has disabled me from furnishing all that I would willingly contribute, to the memory of that learned man. But give me leave to assure you, that I have not known a fitter person than he, to be preserved as an example, and proposed to the imitation of men of letters. I therefore wish well to your friend’s design, though my mite be all I have been able to contribute to it.

I wish you all happiness, and am, with a very particular respect,

SIR,

Your most humble servant,

John Locke.

July 23, 1703

Oates

A LETTER TO

Sir,

Oates,

July 23, 1703.

I HAVE so great a veneration for the memory of that excellent man, whose life you tell me you are writingb, that when I set myself to recollect what memoirs I can (in answer to your desire) furnish you with; I am ashamed I have so little in particular to say, on a subject that afforded so much. For I conclude you so well acquainted with his learning and virtue, that I suppose it would be superfluous to trouble you on those heads. However, give me leave not to be wholly silent upon this occasion. So extraordinary an example, in so degenerate an age, deserves, for the rarity, and, as I was going to say, for the incredibility of it, the attestation of all that knew him, and considered his worth.

The christian world is a witness of his great learning, that the works he published would not suffer to be concealed. Nor could his devotion and piety lie hid, and be unobserved in a college; where his constant and regular assisting at the cathedral service, never interrupted by sharpness of weather, and scarce restrained by downright want of health, showed the temper and disposition of his mind.

But his other virtues and excellent qualities, had so strong and close a covering of modesty and unaffected humility; that, though they shone the brighter to those who had the opportunities to be more intimately acquainted with him, and eyes to discern and distinguish solidity from show, and esteem virtue that sought not reputation; yet they were the less taken notice, and talked of, by the generality of those to whom he was not wholly unknown. Not that he was at all close and reserved; but, on the contrary, the readiest to communicate to any one that consulted him.

Indeed he was not forward to talk, nor ever would be the leading man in the discourse, though it were on a subject that he understood better than any of the company; and would often content himself to sit still and hear others debate matters which he himself was more a master of. He had often the silence of a learner, where he had the knowledge of a master; and that not with a design, as is often, that the ignorance any one betrayed might give him the opportunity to display his own knowledge, with the more lustre and advantage, to their shame; or censure them when they were gone. For these arts of triumph and ostentation, frequently practised by men of skill and ability, were utterly unknown to him. It was very seldom that he contradicted any one; or if it were necessary at any time to inform any one better, who was in a mistake, it was in so soft and gentle a manner, that it had nothing of the air of dispute or correction, and seemed to have little of opposition in it. I never heard him say any thing that put any one that was present the least out of countenance; nor ever censure, or so much as speak diminishingly, of any one that was absent.

He was a man of no irregular appetites. If he indulged any one too much, it was that of study, which his wife would often complain of, (and, I think, not without reason,) that a due consideration of his age and health could not make him abate.

Though he was a man of the greatest temperance in himself, and the farthest from ostentation and vanity in his way of living; yet he was of a liberal mind, and given to hospitality; which considering the smallness of his preferments, and the numerous family of children he had to provide for, might be thought to have out-done those who made more noise and show.

His name, which was in great esteem beyond sea, and that deservedly, drew on him visits from all foreigners of learning, who came to Oxford, to see that university. They never failed to be highly satisfied with his great knowledge and civility, which was not always without expence.

Though at the restoration of king Charles, when preferment rained down upon some men’s heads, his merits were so overlooked or forgotten, that he was barely restored to what was his before, without receiving any new preferment then, or at any time after; yet I never heard him take any the least notice of it, or make the least complaint in a case that would have grated sorely on some men’s patience, and have filled their mouths with murmuring, and their lives with discontent. But he was always unaffectedly cheerful; no marks of any thing that lay heavy at his heart, for his being neglected, ever broke from him. He was so far from having any displeasure lie concealed there, that whenever any expressions of dissatisfaction, for what they thought hard usage, broke from others in his presence, he always diverted the discourse; and if it were any body with whom he thought he might take that liberty, he silenced it with visible marks of dislike.

Though he was not, as I said, a forward, much less an assuming talker; yet he was the farthest in the world from being sullen or morose. He would talk very freely, and very well, of all parts of learning, besides that wherein he was known to excel. But this was not all; he could discourse very well of other things. He was not unacquainted with the world, though he made no show of it.

His backwardness to meddle in other people’s matters, or to enter into debates, where names and persons were brought upon the stage, and judgments and censure were hardly avoided; concealed his abilities, in matters of business and conduct, from most people. But yet I can truly say, that I knew not any one in that university, whom I would more willingly consult, in any affair that required consideration, nor whose opinion I thought it better worth the hearing than his, if he could be drawn to enter into it, and give his advice.

Though in company he never used himself, nor willingly heard from others, any personal reflections on other men, though set off with a sharpness that usually tickles, and by most men is mistaken for the best, if not the only seasoning of pleasant conversation; yet he would often bear his part in innocent mirth, and, by some apposite and diverting story, continue and heighten the good-humour.

I shall give you an instance of it in a story of his, which on this occasion comes to my mind; and I tell it you not as belonging to his life, but that it may give you some part of his character; which, possibly, the very serious temper of this good man may be apt to make men oversee. The story was this: There was at Corpus Christi college, when he was a young man there, a proper fellow, with a long grey beard, that was porter of the college. A waggish fellow-commoner of the house would be often handling and stroking this grey beard, and jestingly told the porter, he would, one of these days, fetch it off. The porter, who took his beard for the great ornament that added grace and authority to his person, could scarce hear the mention, in jest, of his beard being cut off, with any patience. However, he could not escape the mortal agony that such a loss would cause him. The fatal hour came; and see what happened. The young gentleman, as the porter was standing at the college-gate, with other people about him, took hold of his beard with his left hand, and with a pair of scissars, which he had ready in his right, did that execution, that the porter and by-standers heard the cutting of scissars, and saw a handful of grey hairs fall to the ground. The porter, on that sight, in the utmost rage, ran immediately away to the president of the college; and there, with a loud and lamentable outcry, desired justice to be done on the gentleman-commoner, for the great indignity and injury he had received from him. The president demanding what harm the other had done, the porter replied, an affront never to be forgiven; he had cut off his beard. The president, not without laughing, told him that his barber was a bungler, and that therefore he would do him that justice, that he should have nothing for his pains, having done his work so negligently; for he had left him, for aught he could see, after all his cutting, the largest and most reverend beard in the town. The porter, scarce able to believe what he said, put up his hand to his chin, on which he found as full a grown beard as ever. Out of countenance for his complaint for want of a beard, he sneaked away, and would not show his face for some time after.

The contrivance of the young gentleman was innocent and ingenious. He had provided a handful of white horse-hair, which he cut, under the covert of the other’s beard, and so let it drop; which the testy fellow, without any farther examination, concluded to be of his own growth; and so, with open mouth, drew on himself every one’s laughter; which could not be refused to such sad complaints, and so reverend a beard.

Speaking of the expedite way of justice in Turkey, he told this pleasant story; whereof he was an eye-witness at Aleppo. A fellow, who was carrying about bread to sell, at the turn of a street spying the cadee coming towards him, set down his basket of bread, and betook himself to his heels. The cadee coming on, and finding the basket of bread in his way, bid some of his under officers weigh it; (for he always goes attended, for present execution of any fault he shall meet with;) who finding it as it should be, left it, and went on. The fellow watching, at the corner of the street, what would become of his bread; when he found all was safe, returned to his basket. The by-standers asked him why he ran away, his bread being weight? That was more than I knew, says he; for though it be not mine, but I sell it for another; yet if it had been less than weight, and taken upon me, I should have been drubbed.

Many things of this nature, worth notice, would often drop from him in conversation; which would inform the world of several particularities; concerning that country and people, among whom he spent several years. You will pardon me, if on the sudden my bad memory cannot, after such a distance of time, recollect more of them. Neither perhaps had this now occurred, had I not, on an occasion that revived it in my memory some time since by telling it to others, refreshed it in my own thoughts.

I know not whether you find amongst the papers of his, that are, as you say, put into your hands, any Arabic proverbs, translated by him. He has told me that he had a collection of 3000, as I remember; and that they were for the most part very good. He had, as he intimated, some thoughts of translating them, and adding some notes, where they were necessary to clear any obscurities; but whether he ever did any thing in it before he died, I have not heard. But to return to what I can call to mind, and recover of him.

I do not remember that, in all my conversation with him, I ever saw him once angry, or to be so far provoked as to change colour or countenance, or tone of voice. Displeasing actions and accidents would sometimes occur; there is no help for that; but nothing of that kind moved him, that I saw, to any passionate words; much less to chiding or clamour. His life appeared to me one constant calm.

How great his patience was in his long and dangerous lameness (wherein there were very terrible and painful operations) you have, no doubt, learnt from others. I happened to be absent from Oxford most of that time; but I have heard, and believed it, that it was suitable to the other parts of his life.

To conclude, I can say of him, what few men can say of any friend of theirs, nor I of any other of my acquaintance; that I do not remember I ever saw in him any one action that I did, or could in my own mind blame, or thought amiss in him.

Sir, if I had been put upon this task soon after his death, I might possibly have sent you a paper better furnished than this is, and with particularities fitter for your purpose, to fill up the character of so good and extraordinary a man, and so exemplary a life. The esteem and honour I have still for him would not suffer me to say nothing; though my decaying bad memory did ill second my desire to obey your commands. Pray accept this, as a mark of my willingness, and believe that I am

Your most humble servant,

John Locke.

25 Aug. 1703

Oates

Mr. Richard King

A LETTER TO THE REVEREND MR. RICHARD KING.

Sir,

Oates,

25 Aug. 1703.

YOURS of the 4th instant I received; and though I am conscious I do not deserve those advantageous things, which your civility says of me in it; yet give me leave to assure you, that the offers of my service to you, which you are pleased to take notice of, is that part, which I shall not fail to make good on all occasions.

You ask me, “what is the shortest and surest way, for a young gentleman to attain a true knowledge of the christian religion, in the full and just extent of it?” For so I understand your question; if I have mistaken in it, you must set me right. And to this I have a short and plain answer: “Let him study the holy scripture, especially the New Testament.” Therein are contained the words of eternal life. It has God for its author; salvation for its end; and truth, without any mixture of errour, for its matter. So that it is a wonder to me, how any one professing christianity, that would seriously set himself to know his religion, should be in doubt where to employ his search, and lay out his pains for his information; when he knows a book, where it is all contained, pure and entire; and whither, at last, every one must have recourse, to verify that of it, which he finds any-where else.

Your other question, which I think I may call two or three, will require a larger answer.

As to morality, which, I take it, is the first in those things you enquire after; that is best to be found in the book that I have already commended to you. But because you may perhaps think that the better to observe those rules, a little warning may not be inconvenient, and some method of ranging them be useful for the memory; I recommend to you the “Whole Duty of Man,” as a methodical system; and if you desire a larger view of the parts of morality, I know not where you will find them so well and distinctly explained, and so strongly enforced, as in the practical divines of the church of England. The sermons of Dr. Barrow, archbishop Tillotson, and Dr. Whichcote, are masterpieces in this kind; not to name abundance of others, who excel on that subject. If you have a mind to see how far human reason advanced in the discovery of morality, you will have a good specimen of it in “Tully’s offices;” unless you have a mind to look farther back into the source from whence he drew his rules; and then you must consult Aristotle, and the other Greek philosophers.

Though prudence be reckoned among the cardinal virtues, yet I do not remember any professed treatise of morality, where it is treated in its full extent, and with that accuracy that it ought. For which possibly this may be a reason, that every imprudent action does not make a man culpable “in foro conscientiæ.” The business of morality I look upon to be the avoiding of crimes; of prudence, inconveniencies, the foundation whereof lies in knowing men and manners. History teaches this best, next to experience; which is the only effectual way to get a knowledge of the world. As to the rules of prudence in the conduct of common life, though there be several that have employed their pens therein; yet those writers have their eyes so fixed on convenience, that they sometimes lose the sight of virtue; and do not take care to keep themselves always clear from the borders of dishonesty, whilst they are tracing out what they take to be, sometimes, the securest way to success; most of those that I have seen on this subject having, as it seemed to me, something of this defect. So that I know none that I can confidently recommend to your young gentleman, but the son of Sirach.

To “complete a man in the practice of human offices,” (for to that tend your inquiries,) there is one thing more required; which, though it be ordinarily considered, as distinct both from virtue and prudence, yet I think it so nearly allied to them, that he will scarce keep himself from slips in both, who is without it. That, which I mean, is good breeding. The school, for a young gentleman to learn it in, is the conversation of those who are well-bred.

As to the last part of your inquiry, which is after “books that will give an insight into the constitution of the government, and real interest of his country;” to proceed orderly in this, I think the foundation should be laid in inquiring into the ground and nature of civil society; and how it is formed into different models of government; and what are the several species of it. Aristotle is allowed a master in this science, and few enter upon the consideration of government, without reading his “Politics.” Hereunto should be added, true notions of laws in general; and property, the subject matter about which laws are made. He, that would acquaint himself with the former of these, should thoroughly study the judicious Hooker’s first book of “Ecclesiastical Polity.” And property I have nowhere found more clearly explained, than in a book intitled, “Two Treatises of Government.” But not to load your young gentleman with too many books on this subject, which require more meditation than reading; give me leave to recommend to him Puffendorf’s little Treatise, “De Officio Hominis & Civis.”

To get an insight into the particular constitution of the government of his own country, will require a little more reading; unless he will content himself with such a superficial knowledge of it as is contained in Chamberlayne’s “State of England:” or Smith “De Republica Anglicana.” Your inquiry manifestly looks farther than that; and to attain such a knowledge of it, as becomes a gentleman of England to have, to the purposes that you mention, I think he should read our ancient lawyers; such as Bracton, “Fleta,” “The Mirror of Justice,” &c. which our cousin Kinga can better direct you to, than I; joining with them the “History of England under the Normans,” and so continuing it down quite to our times; reading it always in those authors who lived nearest those times; their names you will find, and characters often, in Mr. Tyrrel’s “History of England.” To which if there be added a serious consideration of the laws made in each reign, and how far any of them influenced the constitution; all these together will give him a full insight into what you desire.

As to the interest of any country, that, it is manifest, lies in its prosperity and security. Plenty of well employed people, and riches within, and good alliances abroad, make its strength. But the ways of attaining these comprehend all the arts of peace and war; the management of trade; the employment of the poor; and all those other things that belong to the administration of the public; which are so many, so various, and so changeable, according to the mutable state of men, and things, in this world; that it is not strange, if a very small part of this consists in book-learning. He, that would know it, must have eyes open upon the present state of affairs; and from thence take his measures of what is good, or prejudicial, to the interest of his country.

You see how ready I am to obey your commands, though in matters wherein I am sensible of my own ignorance. I am so little acquainted with books, especially on these subjects relating to politics, that you must forgive, if perhaps I have not named to you the best in every kind. And you must take it as a mark of my readiness to serve you, that I have ventured so far out of what lay in my way of reading, in the days that I had leisure to converse with books. The knowledge of the bible and the business of his calling, is enough for an ordinary man; a gentleman ought to go farther.

Those of this place return their service and thanks, for the honour of your remembrance.

I am, &c.

John Locke

Mr. Richard King

TO THE SAME.

Dear Sir,

I AM sorry to find, that the question, which was the most material, and my mind was most upon, was answered so little to your satisfaction, that you are fain to ask it again. Since therefore you ask me a second time, “what is the best method to study religion?” I must ask you, “what religion you mean?” For if it be, as I understood you before, the “christian religion in its full extent and purity;” I can make you no other answer but what I did, viz. that “the only way to attain a certain knowledge of that, is the study of the holy scripture.” And my reason is, because the christian religion is a revelation from God Almighty, which is contained in the bible; and so all the knowledge we can have of it must be derived from thence. “But if you ask, which is the best way to get the knowledge of the Romish, Lutheran, or reformed religion, of this or that particular church, &c.” each whereof intitles itself to be the true christian religion, with some kind of exclusion or diminution to the rest; that will not be hard to tell you. But then it is plain that the books, that best teach you any one of these, do most remove you from all the rest; and in this way of studying, you pitch upon one as the right, before you know it to be so: whereas that choice should be the result of your study of the christian religion, in the sacred scriptures. And the method I have proposed would, I presume, bring you the surest way to that church, which, I imagine, you already think most conformable to the word of God.

I find the letter you last honoured me with contains a new question, and that a very material one, viz. “what is the best way of interpreting the sacred scripture?” Taking “interpreting” to mean “understanding,” I think the best way for understanding the scripture, or the New Testament, (for of that the question will here be in the first place,) is to read it assiduously and diligently; and, if it can be, in the original. I do not mean, to read every day some certain number of chapters, as is usual; but to read it so, as to study and consider, and not to leave till you are satisfied that you have got the true meaning.

To this purpose, it will be necessary to take the assistance of interpreters and commentators; such as are those called the critics, and Pool’s “Synopsis Criticorum;” Dr. Hammond on the New Testament, and Dr. Whitby, &c.

I should not think it convenient to multiply books of this kind, were there any one that I could direct you to, that was infallible. But you will not think it strange, if I tell you, that after all, you must make use of your own judgment; when you consider that it is and always will be, impossible to find any expositor, whom you can blind-fold rely upon, and cannot be mistaken in following. Such a resignation as that is due to the holy scriptures alone; which were dictated by the infallible spirit of God.

Such writings also as Mr. Mede’s and Dr. Lightfoot’s are very much conducing to lead us into a true sense of the sacred scriptures.

As to the method of reading them, order requires that the four Evangelists should, in the first place, be well studied, and thoroughly understood. They all treating of the same subject do give great light to one another; and, I think, may, with the greatest advantage, be read in harmony. To this purpose, Monsieur Le Clerc’s, or Mr. Whiston’s “Harmony of the four Evangelists,” will be of use, and save a great deal of time and trouble, in turning the bible. They are now both in English, and Le Clerc’s has a paraphrase. But if you would read the Evangelists in the original, Mr. Le Clerc’s edition of his “Harmony” in Greek and Latin will be the best.

If you find that, by this method, you advance in the knowledge of the gospel; when you have laid a foundation there to your satisfaction, it will not be hard to add what may help you forwards, in the study of other parts of the New Testament.

But I have troubled you too much already, for which I beg your pardon; and am, &c.

John Locke

20 January, 1703-4

Oates

Mr. Richard King

TO THE SAME.

Sir,

Oates,

20 January, 1703-4.

THE small acknowledgments I was able to make, for the honour of your visit, and enjoyment of your company here, left the debt on my side, and deserve not the notice you are pleased to take of them.

In your obliging letter of the 13th, you do me favours, and you thank me too. If you intend by this a perfect acquisition of so inconsiderable a thing as I am, your worth and virtue dispose me to be as much at your service as you please; I wish I found any thing in myself that might promise you any usefulness from me. That defect I shall endeavour to make up the best I can, with a perfect esteem, and a readiness of will; which must supply the want of abilities of doing.

I thank you for the printed paper you sent mea, and am very glad to see such a spirit raised, for the support and enlargement of religion. Protestants, I think, are as much concerned now, as ever, to be vigorous in their joint endeavours for the maintenance of the reformation. I wish all, that call themselves so, may be prevailed with by those, whom your paper intimates, to imitate the zeal, and pursue the principles of those great and pious men, who were instrumental to bring us out of Roman darkness and bondage. I heartily pray for good success on all such endeavours.

If I may guess at the intention of the society, by the only man you let me know of it, I may be confident that the glory of God, and the propagation of true religion, is the only aim of it. May God eminently prosper all endeavours that way, and increase the number of those who seriously lay it to heart.

Sir Francisb, my lady, and the rest of this family, return you their humble service. I am, &c.

RULES OF A SOCIETY.

Which met once a week, for their improvement in useful knowledge, and for the promoting of truth and christian charity.

THAT it begin at six in the evening, and end at eight; unless a majority of two thirds present are inclined to continue it longer.

That no person be admitted into this society, without the suffrage of two thirds of the parties present, after the person, desiring such admission, hath subscribed to the rules contained in this paper, and answered in the affirmative to the following questions;

That no person be admitted occasionally, without a good testimony from some of the society that knows him, and he answering in the affirmative to the above-mentioned questions.

That every member in his course, if he please, be moderator; (and the course here meant, is that of their sirnames, according to the alphabet;) whose care must be to keep good order, to propose the question to be debated, recite what may have been said to it already, briefly deliver the sense of the question, and keep the parties close to it; or, if he please, he may name one to be moderator for him. The question for the ensuing conference to be always agreed, before the company departs.

That no person or opinion be unhandsomely reflected on; but every member behave himself with all the temper, judgment, modesty, and discretion he is master of.

That every member place himself to the left hand of the moderator, in order, as he happens to come in; and in his turn speak as plainly, distinctly, and concisely as he can to the question proposed, directing his discourse to the moderator.

That no more than one person speak at once; and none object, till it come to his turn to speak.

That, the question having gone round, if the time will permit, and the company pleases, it may be discoursed again in the same order; and no weighty question to be quitted, till a majority of two-thirds be satisfied, and are willing to proceed to a new one. That when a controversy is not thought, by two-thirds of the company, likely to be ended in a convenient time; then those two-thirds may dismiss it, and, if they please, another question may be proposed. That two-thirds of the company may adjourn the ordinary subject in question, for good and sufficient reasons.

That no question be proposed, that is contrary to religion, civil government, or good manners; unless it be agreed to debate such question, merely and only the better to confute it.

We whose names are here under-written, proposing to ourselves an improvement in useful knowledge, and the promoting of truth and christian charity, by our becoming of this society, do hereby declare our approbation of, and consent to, the rules before written.

John Locke

30 Dec. 1702

Oates

Mrs. Cockburn

A LETTER TO MRS. COCKBURN.

Madam,

THERE was nothing more public than the obligation I received from you, nor any thing more concealed than the person I was obliged to. This is a generosity above the strain of this groveling age, and like that of superior spirits, who assist without showing themselves. I used my best endeavours to draw from you by your bookseller the confession of your name, for want whereof I could, whilst you kept yourself under that reserve, no more address myself directly to you with good manners, than I could have pulled off your mask by force, in a place where you were resolved to conceal yourself. Had not this been so, the bearer hereof would not the first time have come to you without a letter from me to acknowledge the favour you had done me. You not affording me an opportunity for that, I designed to make you some small acknowledgment, in a way that chance had opened to me, without your consent. But this gentleman transgressed my order in two main points of it. The one was in delaying it so long. The other was in naming me to you, and talking of matters which he had no commission from me to mention. What he deserves from you for it, must be left to your mercy. For I cannot in earnest be angry with him for procuring me, without any guilt of mine, an opportunity to own you for my protectress, which is the greatest honour my Essay could have procured me. Give me leave therefore to assure you, that as the rest of the world take notice of the strength and clearness of your reasoning, so I cannot but be extremely sensible that it was employed in my defence. You have herein not only vanquished my adversary, but reduced me also absolutely under your power, and left no desires more strong in me than those of meeting with some opportunity to assure you with what respect and submission I am, Madam,

Your most humble,

and most obedient servant,

Oates,

30 Dec. 1702.

J. Locke.

John Locke

16 May, 1699

Oates

Mr. Samuel Bold

A LETTER FROM MR. LOCKE TO MR. SAMUEL BOLD.

Sir,

Oates,

16 May, 1699.

YOURS of the 11th of April I received not till the last week. I suppose Mr. Churchill staid it till that discourse wherein you have been pleased to defend my Essay was printed, that they might come together, though neither of them need a companion to recommend it to me. Your reasonings are so strong and just, and your friendship to me so visible, that every thing must be welcome to me that comes from your pen, let it be of what kind soever. I promise myself that to all those who are willing to open their eyes and to enlarge their minds to a true knowledge of things, this little treatise of yours will be greatly acceptable and useful; and for those who will shut their eyes for fear they should see more than others have seen before them, or rather for fear they should make use of them, and not blindly and lazily follow the sayings of others; what can be done to them? They are to be let alone to join in the cry of the herd they have placed themselves in, and take that for applause which is nothing but the noise that of course they make to one another, which way ever they are going: so that the greatness of it is no manner of proof that they are in the right. — I say not this because it is a discourse wherein you favour any opinions of mine, (for I take care not to be deceived by the reasonings of my friends,) but I say it from those who are strangers to you, and who own themselves to have received light and conviction from the clearness and closeness of your reasonings, and that in a matter at first sight very abstruse and remote from ordinary conceptions. — There is nothing that would more rejoice me than to have you for my neighbour. The advantages that you promise yourself from mine, I should receive from your conversation. The impartial lovers and searchers of truth are a great deal fewer than one could wish or imagine. It is a rare thing to find any one to whom one can communicate one’s thoughts freely, and from whom one may expect a careful examination and impartial judgment of them. To be learned in the lump by other men’s thoughts, and to be in the right by saying after others, is the much easier and quicker way; but how a rational man that should inquire and know for himself, can content himself with a faith or religion taken upon trust, or with such a servile submission of his understanding, as to admit all and nothing else but what fashion makes at present passable amongst some men, is to me astonishing. I do not wonder that concerning many points you should have different apprehensions from what you meet with in authors; with a free mind, that unbiassedly pursues truth, it cannot be otherwise; 1st, because all authors did not write unbiassedly for truth’s sake; and, 2dly, because there are scarce any two men that have perfectly the same views of the same thing till they come with attention, and perhaps mutual assistance, to examine it. A consideration that makes conversation with the living much more desirable and useful than consulting the dead, would the living but be inquisitive after truth, apply their thoughts with attention to the gaining of it, and be indifferent with whom it was found, so they could but find it. The first requisite to the profiting by books is not to judge of opinions by the authority of the writers. None have the right of dictating but God himself, and that because he is truth itself. All others have a right to be followed as far as I have, and no farther, i. e. as far as the evidence of what they say convinces, and of that my own understanding alone must be judge for me, and nothing else. If we made our own eyes our own guides, admitted or rejected opinions only by the evidence of reason, we should neither embrace nor refuse any tenet, because we find it published by another, of what name or character soever he was.

You say you lose many things because they slip from you. I have had experience of that myself, but for that my lord Bacon has provided a sure remedy. For, as I remember, he advises somewhere never to go without pen and ink, or something to write with, and to be sure not to neglect to write down all thoughts of moment that come into the mind. I must own I have omitted it often, and often repented it. The thoughts that come often unsought, and, as it were, drop into the mind, are commonly the most valuable of any we have, and therefore should be secured, because they seldom return again.

You say also that you lose many things, because your own thoughts are not steady and strong enough to follow and pursue them to a just issue. Give me leave to think that herein you mistake yourself, and your own abilities. Write down your thoughts upon any point as far as you have at any time pursued them, and go on with them again some other time, when you find your mind disposed to it, and so till you have carried them as far as you can, and you will be convinced that, if you have lost any, it has not been for want of strength of mind to bring them to an issue, but for want of memory to retain a long train of reasonings which the mind, having once beat out, is loth to be at the pains to go over again, and so the connexion and train having slipped the memory, the pursuit stops, and the reasoning is neglected before it comes to the last conclusion. If you have not tried it, you cannot imagine the difference there is in studying with and without a pen in your hand. Your ideas, if the connexions of them that you have traced be set down, so that, without the pains of recollecting them in your memory, you can take an easy view of them again, will lead you farther than you could expect. Try, and tell me if it be not so. I say not this that I should not be glad to have any conversation with you, upon any points you shall employ your thoughts about. Propose what you have of this kind freely, and do not suspect it will interfere with any of my affairs. Know that besides the pleasure it is to converse with a thinking man, and a lover of truth, I shall profit by it more than you. This you would see by the frequency of my visits, if you were within the reach of them.

That which I think of Deut. xii. 15. is this, that the reason why it is said, as the roebuck and the hart, is, because, Lev. xvii. to prevent idolatry in offering the blood to other gods, they were commanded to kill all the cattle that they ate at the door of the Tabernacle, as a peace-offering, and sprinkle the blood on the altar. But wild beasts that were clean might be eaten, though their blood were not offered to God, ver. 13, because being commonly killed before they were taken, their blood could not be sprinkled on the altar, and therefore it sufficed in such cases to pour out their blood whereever they were killed, and cover it with dust, and for the same reason, when the camp was broken up, wherein the whole people was in the neighbourhood of the Tabernacle, during their 40 years passage from Egypt to Canaan, and the people were scattered in their habitations through all the Land of Promise, those who were too far off from the Temple were excused (Deut. xii. 21, 22.) from killing their tame cattle at Jerusalem and sprinkling their blood on the altar. No more was required of them than was required in killing a roebuck, or any other clean wild beast: they were only to pour out the blood, and cover it with dust, and so they might eat of the flesh.

These are my thoughts concerning that passage. What you say about critics and critical interpretations, particularly of the holy scriptures, is not only in my opinion very true, but of great use to be observed on reading learned commentators, who not seldom make it their business to show in what sense a word has been used by other authors; whereas the proper business of a commentator is barely to show in what sense it was used by the author in that place; which in the scripture we have reason to conclude was most commonly in the ordinary vulgar sense of that word or phrase known in that time, because the books were writ, as you justly observe, and adapted to the people. If the critics had observed this, we should have had in their works less ostentation, and more truth, and a great deal of the darkness and doubtfulness now spread upon the scriptures had been avoided. I have had a late proof of this in myself, who have lately found in some large passages of scripture a sense quite different from what I understood it in before, and from what I find in commentators; and yet it appears so clear to me, that when I see you next I shall dare to appeal to you in it. But I read the word of God without prepossession or bias, and come to it with a resolution to take my sense from it, and not with a design to bring it to the sense of my system. How much that had made men wind and twist and pull the text in all the several sects of christians, I need not tell you. I desire to take my religion from the scriptures, and then whether it suits or suits not any other denomination, I am not much concerned; for I think at the last day it will not be inquired whether I were of the church of England, or church of Geneva, but whether I sought and embraced the truth in the love of it. The proofs I have set down in my book, of one infinite, independent, eternal Being, satisfied me; and the gentleman that desired others, and pretended that the next proposition to that of the existence of a self-sufficient, independent Being, should be this, that such a Being is but one, and that he could prove it antecedent to his attributes, v. g. of infinity, omnipotence, &c. I am pretty well satisfied, pretended to what he had not, and therefore trouble not myself any farther about that matter. As to what you say upon this occasion, I agree with you, that the ideas of the modes and actions of substances are usually in our minds before the idea of substance itself; but in this I differ from you, that I do not think the ideas of the operations of things are antecedent to the ideas of their existence, for they must exist before they can any way affect us, or make us sensible of their operations, and we must suppose them to be before they operate. My essay is going to be printed again: I wish you were near me, that I might shew you the several alterations and additions I have made, before they go to the press.

The warm weather that begins now with us makes me hope I shall now speedily get to town; if any business draws you thither this summer, I hope you will order it so that I may have a good share of your company. Nobody values it more than I do; and I have a great many things to talk with you. I am, Sir,

Your most affectionate,

and most humble Servant,

For Mr. Samuel Bold, at Steeple.

J. Locke.

John Locke

April 24, 1696

Oates

Dear Coll,

Oates,

April 24, 1696.

I SEE by the temper the country is in, (and I doubt not but there are those who will blow the coal,) that if London does not set them a good example, the act will be broken through, and clipping will be continued upon us. — I am sure the trade goes on as brisk as ever; a company was lately taken at or about Ware. Somebody ready, as soon as the day comes, to arrest a goldsmith that refused to pay money according to the law, would spoil the trick, especially if several of them were made examples. — If clipped money once get but currency in London amongst those blades, but for the first week after the 4th of May, I look upon it as irretrievable, but if it be stopped there, the rest of the kingdom will fall into it, especially if receiving clipped money by weight be introduced. These are at present my thoughts, which I trouble those with who I know are able to make use of them, if they may be of any. Duty and service from all here.

I am, dear Col, &c.

J. Locke.

John Locke

Dec. 8, 1670

Dr. Fell

LORD ASHLEY TO DR. FELL.

Sir,

Dec. 8, 1670.

YOU are well acquainted with the kindnesse I have great reason to have to Mr. Locke, in whose behalf I had prevailed with the duke of Ormond for his assistance towards the attaining his doctor’s degree, at the reception of the prince of Aurange; and I am apt to think the instance of your chancellor, and the relation he has to me, would not have been denied by the university. But Mr. Locke understanding the provost of Eaton declared himself, and you, dissatisfied with it, has importuned me to give him leave to decline it, which, upon conference with my worthy friend the bishop of Rochester, I have donne, and returned his grace’s letter, though my lord bishop of Rochester can tell you I could not but complain to him, that your chapter had not been so kinde to me, in Mr. Locke’s affairs, as I thought I might justly expect, considering him a member of their house, having done both my life and family that service I owne from him, and I being of that quality I am under his Majestie, under which title only I pretend to any favour from them. All that I request now, of you and them, is, that since he will not allow me to doe him this kindnesse, you will give me leave to bespeake your favour for the next faculty place, and that a more powerful hand may not take it from him. I rely very much on my lord Rochester’s mediation, and your own kindnesse to me, that may induce you to believe, that an obligation will not be absolutely cast away on,

SIR,

Your affectionate friend and servant.

John Locke

Dec. 9, 1704

Temple

My Lord,

I DOUBT not but your lordship hath before this time heard of the death of Mr. Locke, who was in the full possession of his reason and understanding to the last minute of his life; he hath made me his executor, by means whereof his writings are come to my hands, amongst which I find three or four sheets of memoirs of your grandfather’s life, with an epitaph on your grandfather. Mr. Locke designed, if he had lived longer, to have gone on farther with those memoirs. I beg your lordship’s pardon that I have not acquainted your lordship herewith sooner; but Mr. Locke happening to dye in the term, I had not leisure to look into his concerns, beyond what was absolutely necessary, till within these few days. These papers properly belong to your lordship, and I thought it my duty to acquaint your lordship therewith, and shall dispose of them as your lordship shall direct.

I am, with all sincerity,

Your Lordship’s most dutiful,

and affectionate servant,

Peter King.

Inner Temple,

Dec. 9, 1704.

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