1. SEVERAL years have now elapsed
since I first became aware that I had accepted, even from my youth, many false
opinions for true, and that consequently what I afterward based on such
principles was highly doubtful; and from that time I was convinced of the
necessity of undertaking once in my life to rid myself of all the opinions I
had adopted, and of commencing anew the work of building from the foundation,
if I desired to establish a firm and abiding superstructure in the sciences.
But as this enterprise appeared to me to be one of great magnitude, I waited
until I had attained an age so mature as to leave me no hope that at any stage
of life more advanced I should be better able to execute my design. On this
account, I have delayed so long that I should henceforth consider I was doing
wrong were I still to consume in deliberation any of the time that now remains
for action. To-day, then, since I have opportunely freed my mind from all cares
[and am happily disturbed by no passions], and since I am in the secure
possession of leisure in a peaceable retirement, I will at length apply myself
earnestly and freely to the general overthrow of all my former opinions.
2. But, to this end, it will not be
necessary for me to show that the whole of these are false--a point, perhaps,
which I shall never reach; but as even now my reason convinces me that I ought
not the less carefully to withhold belief from what is not entirely certain and
indubitable, than from what is manifestly false, it will be sufficient to
justify the rejection of the whole if I shall find in each some ground for
doubt. Nor for this purpose will it be necessary even to deal with each belief
individually, which would be truly an endless labor; but, as the removal from
below of the foundation necessarily involves the downfall of the whole edifice,
I will at once approach the criticism of the principles on which all my former beliefs
rested.
3. All that I have, up to this
moment, accepted as possessed of the highest truth and certainty, I received
either from or through the senses. I observed, however, that these sometimes
misled us; and it is the part of prudence not to place absolute confidence in
that by which we have even once been deceived.
4. But it may be said, perhaps,
that, although the senses occasionally mislead us respecting minute objects,
and such as are so far removed from us as to be beyond the reach of close observation,
there are yet many other of their informations (presentations), of the truth of
which it is manifestly impossible to doubt; as for example, that I am in this
place, seated by the fire, clothed in a winter dressing gown, that I hold in my
hands this piece of paper, with other intimations of the same nature. But how
could I deny that I possess these hands and this body, and withal escape being
classed with persons in a state of insanity, whose brains are so disordered and
clouded by dark bilious vapors as to cause them pertinaciously to assert that
they are monarchs when they are in the greatest poverty; or clothed [in gold]
and purple when destitute of any covering; or that their head is made of clay,
their body of glass, or that they are gourds? I should certainly be not less
insane than they, were I to regulate my procedure according to examples so
extravagant.[ L][
F]
5. Though this be true, I must
nevertheless here consider that I am a man, and that, consequently, I am in the
habit of sleeping, and representing to myself in dreams those same things, or
even sometimes others less probable, which the insane think are presented to
them in their waking moments. How often have I dreamt that I was in these
familiar circumstances, that I was dressed, and occupied this place by the
fire, when I was lying undressed in bed? At the present moment, however, I
certainly look upon this paper with eyes wide awake; the head which I now move
is not asleep; I extend this hand consciously and with express purpose, and I
perceive it; the occurrences in sleep are not so distinct as all this. But I
cannot forget that, at other times I have been deceived in sleep by similar
illusions; and, attentively considering those cases, I perceive so clearly that
there exist no certain marks by which the state of waking can ever be
distinguished from sleep, that I feel greatly astonished; and in amazement I
almost persuade myself that I am now dreaming.
6. Let us suppose, then, that we are
dreaming, and that all these particulars--namely, the opening of the eyes, the
motion of the head, the forth- putting of the hands--are merely illusions; and
even that we really possess neither an entire body nor hands such as we see.
Nevertheless it must be admitted at least that the objects which appear to us
in sleep are, as it were, painted representations which could not have been
formed unless in the likeness of realities; and, therefore, that those general
objects, at all events, namely, eyes, a head, hands, and an entire body, are
not simply imaginary, but really existent. For, in truth, painters themselves,
even when they study to represent sirens and satyrs by forms the most fantastic
and extraordinary, cannot bestow upon them natures absolutely new, but can only
make a certain medley of the members of different animals; or if they chance to
imagine something so novel that nothing at all similar has ever been seen
before, and such as is, therefore, purely fictitious and absolutely false, it
is at least certain that the colors of which this is composed are real. And on
the same principle, although these general objects, viz. [a body], eyes, a
head, hands, and the like, be imaginary, we are nevertheless absolutely necessitated
to admit the reality at least of some other objects still more simple and
universal than these, of which, just as of certain real colors, all those
images of things, whether true and real, or false and fantastic, that are found
in our consciousness (cogitatio),are formed.
7. To this class of objects seem to
belong corporeal nature in general and its extension; the figure of extended
things, their quantity or magnitude, and their number, as also the place in,
and the time during, which they exist, and other things of the same sort.
8. We will not, therefore, perhaps
reason illegitimately if we conclude from this that Physics, Astronomy,
Medicine, and all the other sciences that have for their end the consideration
of composite objects, are indeed of a doubtful character; but that Arithmetic,
Geometry, and the other sciences of the same class, which regard merely the
simplest and most general objects, and scarcely inquire whether or not these
are really existent, contain somewhat that is certain and indubitable: for
whether I am awake or dreaming, it remains true that two and three make five,
and that a square has but four sides; nor does it seem possible that truths so
apparent can ever fall under a suspicion of falsity [or incertitude].
9. Nevertheless, the belief that
there is a God who is all powerful, and who created me, such as I am, has, for
a long time, obtained steady possession of my mind. How, then, do I know that
he has not arranged that there should be neither earth, nor sky, nor any extended
thing, nor figure, nor magnitude, nor place, providing at the same time,
however, for [the rise in me of the perceptions of all these objects, and] the
persuasion that these do not exist otherwise than as I perceive them ? And
further, as I sometimes think that others are in error respecting matters of
which they believe themselves to possess a perfect knowledge, how do I know
that I am not also deceived each time I add together two and three, or number
the sides of a square, or form some judgment still more simple, if more simple
indeed can be imagined? But perhaps Deity has not been willing that I should be
thus deceived, for he is said to be supremely good. If, however, it were
repugnant to the goodness of Deity to have created me subject to constant
deception, it would seem likewise to be contrary to his goodness to allow me to
be occasionally deceived; and yet it is clear that this is permitted.
10. Some, indeed, might perhaps be
found who would be disposed rather to deny the existence of a Being so powerful
than to believe that there is nothing certain. But let us for the present
refrain from opposing this opinion, and grant that all which is here said of a
Deity is fabulous: nevertheless, in whatever way it be supposed that I reach
the state in which I exist, whether by fate, or chance, or by an endless series
of antecedents and consequents, or by any other means, it is clear (since to be
deceived and to err is a certain defect ) that the probability of my being so
imperfect as to be the constant victim of deception, will be increased exactly
in proportion as the power possessed by the cause, to which they assign my
origin, is lessened. To these reasonings I have assuredly nothing to reply, but
am constrained at last to avow that there is nothing of all that I formerly
believed to be true of which it is impossible to doubt, and that not through
thoughtlessness or levity, but from cogent and maturely considered reasons; so
that henceforward, if I desire to discover anything certain, I ought not the less
carefully to refrain from assenting to those same opinions than to what might
be shown to be manifestly false.
11. But it is not sufficient to have
made these observations; care must be taken likewise to keep them in
remembrance. For those old and customary opinions perpetually recur-- long and
familiar usage giving them the right of occupying my mind, even almost against
my will, and subduing my belief; nor will I lose the habit of deferring to them
and confiding in them so long as I shall consider them to be what in truth they
are, viz, opinions to some extent doubtful, as I have already shown, but still
highly probable, and such as it is much more reasonable to believe than deny.
It is for this reason I am persuaded that I shall not be doing wrong, if,
taking an opposite judgment of deliberate design, I become my own deceiver, by
supposing, for a time, that all those opinions are entirely false and
imaginary, until at length, having thus balanced my old by my new prejudices,
my judgment shall no longer be turned aside by perverted usage from the path
that may conduct to the perception of truth. For I am assured that, meanwhile,
there will arise neither peril nor error from this course, and that I cannot
for the present yield too much to distrust, since the end I now seek is not
action but knowledge.
12. I will suppose, then, not that
Deity, who is sovereignly good and the fountain of truth, but that some
malignant demon, who is at once exceedingly potent and deceitful, has employed
all his artifice to deceive me; I will suppose that the sky, the air, the
earth, colors, figures, sounds, and all external things, are nothing better
than the illusions of dreams, by means of which this being has laid snares for
my credulity; I will consider myself as without hands, eyes, flesh, blood, or
any of the senses, and as falsely believing that I am possessed of these; I
will continue resolutely fixed in this belief, and if indeed by this means it
be not in my power to arrive at the knowledge of truth, I shall at least do
what is in my power, viz, [ suspend my judgment ], and guard with settled
purpose against giving my assent to what is false, and being imposed upon by
this deceiver, whatever be his power and artifice. But this undertaking is
arduous, and a certain indolence insensibly leads me back to my ordinary course
of life; and just as the captive, who, perchance, was enjoying in his dreams an
imaginary liberty, when he begins to suspect that it is but a vision, dreads
awakening, and conspires with the agreeable illusions that the deception may be
prolonged; so I, of my own accord, fall back into the train of my former
beliefs, and fear to arouse myself from my slumber, lest the time of laborious
wakefulness that would succeed this quiet rest, in place of bringing any light
of day, should prove inadequate to dispel the darkness that will arise from the
difficulties that have now been raised.
1. The Meditation of yesterday has filled my mind with
so many doubts, that it is no longer in my power to forget them. Nor do I see,
meanwhile, any principle on which they can be resolved; and, just as if I had
fallen all of a sudden into very deep water, I am so greatly disconcerted as to
be unable either to plant my feet firmly on the bottom or sustain myself by
swimming on the surface. I will, nevertheless, make an effort, and try anew the
same path on which I had entered yesterday, that is, proceed by casting aside
all that admits of the slightest doubt, not less than if I had discovered it to
be absolutely false; and I will continue always in this track until I shall
find something that is certain, or at least, if I can do nothing more, until I
shall know with certainty that there is nothing certain. Archimedes, that he
might transport the entire globe from the place it occupied to another,
demanded only a point that was firm and immovable; so, also, I shall be
entitled to entertain the highest expectations, if I am fortunate enough to
discover only one thing that is certain and indubitable.[ L][
F]
2. I suppose, accordingly, that all the things which I
see are false (fictitious); I believe that none of those objects which my
fallacious memory represents ever existed; I suppose that I possess no senses;
I believe that body, figure, extension, motion, and place are merely fictions
of my mind. What is there, then, that can be esteemed true ? Perhaps this only,
that there is absolutely nothing certain.[ L][
F]
3. But how do I know that there is not something
different altogether from the objects I have now enumerated, of which it is
impossible to entertain the slightest doubt? Is there not a God, or some being,
by whatever name I may designate him, who causes these thoughts to arise in my
mind ? But why suppose such a being, for it may be I myself am capable of
producing them? Am I, then, at least not something? But I before denied that I
possessed senses or a body; I hesitate, however, for what follows from that? Am
I so dependent on the body and the senses that without these I cannot exist?
But I had the persuasion that there was absolutely nothing in the world, that
there was no sky and no earth, neither minds nor bodies; was I not, therefore,
at the same time, persuaded that I did not exist? Far from it; I assuredly
existed, since I was persuaded. But there is I know not what being, who is
possessed at once of the highest power and the deepest cunning, who is
constantly employing all his ingenuity in deceiving me. Doubtless, then, I
exist, since I am deceived; and, let him deceive me as he may, he can never
bring it about that I am nothing, so long as I shall be conscious that I am
something. So that it must, in fine, be maintained, all things being maturely
and carefully considered, that this proposition (pronunciatum ) I am, I
exist, is necessarily true each time it is expressed by me, or conceived in
my mind.[ L][
F]
4. But I do not yet know with sufficient clearness what
I am, though assured that I am; and hence, in the next place, I must take care,
lest perchance I inconsiderately substitute some other object in room of what
is properly myself, and thus wander from truth, even in that knowledge (
cognition ) which I hold to be of all others the most certain and evident. For
this reason, I will now consider anew what I formerly believed myself to be,
before I entered on the present train of thought; and of my previous opinion I
will retrench all that can in the least be invalidated by the grounds of doubt
I have adduced, in order that there may at length remain nothing but what is
certain and indubitable. [ L][
F]
5. What then did I formerly think I was ? Undoubtedly
I judged that I was a man. But what is a man ? Shall I say a rational animal ?
Assuredly not; for it would be necessary forthwith to inquire into what is
meant by animal, and what by rational, and thus, from a single question, I
should insensibly glide into others, and these more difficult than the first;
nor do I now possess enough of leisure to warrant me in wasting my time amid
subtleties of this sort. I prefer here to attend to the thoughts that sprung up
of themselves in my mind, and were inspired by my own nature alone, when I
applied myself to the consideration of what I was. In the first place, then, I
thought that I possessed a countenance, hands, arms, and all the fabric of
members that appears in a corpse, and which I called by the name of body. It
further occurred to me that I was nourished, that I walked, perceived, and
thought, and all those actions I referred to the soul; but what the soul itself
was I either did not stay to consider, or, if I did, I imagined that it was
something extremely rare and subtile, like wind, or flame, or ether, spread
through my grosser parts. As regarded the body, I did not even doubt of its
nature, but thought I distinctly knew it, and if I had wished to describe it
according to the notions I then entertained, I should have explained myself in
this manner: By body I understand all that can be terminated by a certain
figure; that can be comprised in a certain place, and so fill a certain space
as therefrom to exclude every other body; that can be perceived either by
touch, sight, hearing, taste, or smell; that can be moved in different ways,
not indeed of itself, but by something foreign to it by which it is touched
[and from which it receives the impression]; for the power of self-motion, as
likewise that of perceiving and thinking, I held as by no means pertaining to
the nature of body; on the contrary, I was somewhat astonished to find such
faculties existing in some bodies.[ L][
F]
6. But [as to myself, what can I now say that I am],
since I suppose there exists an extremely powerful, and, if I may so speak,
malignant being, whose whole endeavors are directed toward deceiving me ? Can I
affirm that I possess any one of all those attributes of which I have lately
spoken as belonging to the nature of body ? After attentively considering them
in my own mind, I find none of them that can properly be said to belong to
myself. To recount them were idle and tedious. Let us pass, then, to the
attributes of the soul. The first mentioned were the powers of nutrition and
walking; but, if it be true that I have no body, it is true likewise that I am
capable neither of walking nor of being nourished. Perception is another
attribute of the soul; but perception too is impossible without the body;
besides, I have frequently, during sleep, believed that I perceived objects
which I afterward observed I did not in reality perceive. Thinking is another
attribute of the soul; and here I discover what properly belongs to myself.
This alone is inseparable from me. I am--I exist: this is certain; but how
often? As often as I think; for perhaps it would even happen, if I should
wholly cease to think, that I should at the same time altogether cease to be. I
now admit nothing that is not necessarily true. I am therefore, precisely
speaking, only a thinking thing, that is, a mind (mens sive animus), understanding,
or reason, terms whose signification was before unknown to me. I am, however, a
real thing, and really existent; but what thing? The answer was, a thinking
thing. [ L][
F]
7. The question now arises, am I aught besides ? I
will stimulate my imagination with a view to discover whether I am not still
something more than a thinking being. Now it is plain I am not the assemblage
of members called the human body; I am not a thin and penetrating air diffused
through all these members, or wind, or flame, or vapor, or breath, or any of
all the things I can imagine; for I supposed that all these were not, and,
without changing the supposition, I find that I still feel assured of my
existence. But it is true, perhaps, that those very things which I suppose to
be non-existent, because they are unknown to me, are not in truth different
from myself whom I know. This is a point I cannot determine, and do not now
enter into any dispute regarding it. I can only judge of things that are known
to me: I am conscious that I exist, and I who know that I exist inquire into
what I am. It is, however, perfectly certain that the knowledge of my
existence, thus precisely taken, is not dependent on things, the existence of
which is as yet unknown to me: and consequently it is not dependent on any of
the things I can feign in imagination. Moreover, the phrase itself, I frame an
image (efffingo), reminds me of my error; for I should in truth frame
one if I were to imagine myself to be anything, since to imagine is nothing
more than to contemplate the figure or image of a corporeal thing; but I
already know that I exist, and that it is possible at the same time that all
those images, and in general all that relates to the nature of body, are merely
dreams [or chimeras]. From this I discover that it is not more reasonable to
say, I will excite my imagination that I may know more distinctly what I am,
than to express myself as follows: I am now awake, and perceive something real;
but because my perception is not sufficiently clear, I will of express purpose
go to sleep that my dreams may represent to me the object of my perception with
more truth and clearness. And, therefore, I know that nothing of all that I can
embrace in imagination belongs to the knowledge which I have of myself, and
that there is need to recall with the utmost care the mind from this mode of
thinking, that it may be able to know its own nature with perfect
distinctness.[ L][
F]
8. But what, then, am I ? A thinking thing, it has
been said. But what is a thinking thing? It is a thing that doubts,
understands, [conceives], affirms, denies, wills, refuses; that imagines also,
and perceives. [ L][
F]
9. Assuredly it is not little, if all these properties
belong to my nature. But why should they not belong to it ? Am I not that very
being who now doubts of almost everything; who, for all that, understands and
conceives certain things; who affirms one alone as true, and denies the others;
who desires to know more of them, and does not wish to be deceived; who
imagines many things, sometimes even despite his will; and is likewise
percipient of many, as if through the medium of the senses. Is there nothing of
all this as true as that I am, even although I should be always dreaming, and
although he who gave me being employed all his ingenuity to deceive me ? Is
there also any one of these attributes that can be properly distinguished from
my thought, or that can be said to be separate from myself ? For it is of
itself so evident that it is I who doubt, I who understand, and I who desire,
that it is here unnecessary to add anything by way of rendering it more clear.
And I am as certainly the same being who imagines; for although it may be (as I
before supposed) that nothing I imagine is true, still the power of imagination
does not cease really to exist in me and to form part of my thought. In fine, I
am the same being who perceives, that is, who apprehends certain objects as by
the organs of sense, since, in truth, I see light, hear a noise, and feel heat.
But it will be said that these presentations are false, and that I am dreaming.
Let it be so. At all events it is certain that I seem to see light, hear a
noise, and feel heat; this cannot be false, and this is what in me is properly
called perceiving (sentire), which is nothing else than thinking.[ L][
F]
10. From this I begin to know what I am with somewhat
greater clearness and distinctness than heretofore. But, nevertheless, it still
seems to me, and I cannot help believing, that corporeal things, whose images are
formed by thought [which fall under the senses], and are examined by the same,
are known with much greater distinctness than that I know not what part of
myself which is not imaginable; although, in truth, it may seem strange to say
that I know and comprehend with greater distinctness things whose existence
appears to me doubtful, that are unknown, and do not belong to me, than others
of whose reality I am persuaded, that are known to me, and appertain to my
proper nature; in a word, than myself. But I see clearly what is the state of
the case. My mind is apt to wander, and will not yet submit to be restrained
within the limits of truth. Let us therefore leave the mind to itself once
more, and, according to it every kind of liberty [permit it to consider the
objects that appear to it from without], in order that, having afterward
withdrawn it from these gently and opportunely [ and fixed it on the
consideration of its being and the properties it finds in itself], it may then
be the more easily controlled.[ L][
F]
11. Let us now accordingly consider the objects that
are commonly thought to be [the most easily, and likewise] the most distinctly
known, viz, the bodies we touch and see; not, indeed, bodies in general, for
these general notions are usually somewhat more confused, but one body in
particular. Take, for example, this piece of wax; it is quite fresh, having
been but recently taken from the beehive; it has not yet lost the sweetness of
the honey it contained; it still retains somewhat of the odor of the flowers
from which it was gathered; its color, figure, size, are apparent ( to the
sight ); it is hard, cold, easily handled; and sounds when struck upon with the
finger. In fine, all that contributes to make a body as distinctly known as
possible, is found in the one before us. But, while I am speaking, let it be
placed near the fire--what remained of the taste exhales, the smell evaporates,
the color changes, its figure is destroyed, its size increases, it becomes
liquid, it grows hot, it can hardly be handled, and, although struck upon, it
emits no sound. Does the same wax still remain after this change ? It must be
admitted that it does remain; no one doubts it, or judges otherwise. What,
then, was it I knew with so much distinctness in the piece of wax? Assuredly,
it could be nothing of all that I observed by means of the senses, since all
the things that fell under taste, smell, sight, touch, and hearing are changed,
and yet the same wax remains. [ L][
F]
12. It was perhaps what I now think, viz, that this
wax was neither the sweetness of honey, the pleasant odor of flowers, the whiteness,
the figure, nor the sound, but only a body that a little before appeared to me
conspicuous under these forms, and which is now perceived under others. But, to
speak precisely, what is it that I imagine when I think of it in this way? Let
it be attentively considered, and, retrenching all that does not belong to the
wax, let us see what remains. There certainly remains nothing, except something
extended, flexible, and movable. But what is meant by flexible and movable ? Is
it not that I imagine that the piece of wax, being round, is capable of
becoming square, or of passing from a square into a triangular figure ?
Assuredly such is not the case, because I conceive that it admits of an
infinity of similar changes; and I am, moreover, unable to compass this
infinity by imagination, and consequently this conception which I have of the
wax is not the product of the faculty of imagination. But what now is this
extension ? Is it not also unknown ? for it becomes greater when the wax is
melted, greater when it is boiled, and greater still when the heat increases;
and I should not conceive [clearly and] according to truth, the wax as it is,
if I did not suppose that the piece we are considering admitted even of a wider
variety of extension than I ever imagined, I must, therefore, admit that I
cannot even comprehend by imagination what the piece of wax is, and that it is
the mind alone ( mens, Lat., entendement, F.) which perceives it.
I speak of one piece in particular; for as to wax in general, this is still more
evident. But what is the piece of wax that can be perceived only by the
[understanding or] mind? It is certainly the same which I see, touch, imagine;
and, in fine, it is the same which, from the beginning, I believed it to be.
But (and this it is of moment to observe) the perception of it is neither an
act of sight, of touch, nor of imagination, and never was either of these,
though it might formerly seem so, but is simply an intuition (inspectio) of
the mind, which may be imperfect and confused, as it formerly was, or very
clear and distinct, as it is at present, according as the attention is more or
less directed to the elements which it contains, and of which it is composed.[ L][
F]
13. But, meanwhile, I feel greatly
astonished when I observe [the weakness of my mind, and] its proneness to
error. For although, without at all giving expression to what I think, I
consider all this in my own mind, words yet occasionally impede my progress,
and I am almost led into error by the terms of ordinary language. We say, for
example, that we see the same wax when it is before us, and not that we judge
it to be the same from its retaining the same color and figure: whence I should
forthwith be disposed to conclude that the wax is known by the act of sight,
and not by the intuition of the mind alone, were it not for the analogous
instance of human beings passing on in the street below, as observed from a
window. In this case I do not fail to say that I see the men themselves, just
as I say that I see the wax; and yet what do I see from the window beyond hats
and cloaks that might cover artificial machines, whose motions might be
determined by springs ? But I judge that there are human beings from these
appearances, and thus I comprehend, by the faculty of judgment alone which is
in the mind, what I believed I saw with my eyes.[ L][
F]
14. The man who makes it his aim to
rise to knowledge superior to the common, ought to be ashamed to seek occasions
of doubting from the vulgar forms of speech: instead, therefore, of doing this,
I shall proceed with the matter in hand, and inquire whether I had a clearer
and more perfect perception of the piece of wax when I first saw it, and when I
thought I knew it by means of the external sense itself, or, at all events, by
the common sense (sensus communis), as it is called, that is, by the
imaginative faculty; or whether I rather apprehend it more clearly at present,
after having examined with greater care, both what it is, and in what way it
can be known. It would certainly be ridiculous to entertain any doubt on this
point. For what, in that first perception, was there distinct ? What did I
perceive which any animal might not have perceived ? But when I distinguish the
wax from its exterior forms, and when, as if I had stripped it of its
vestments, I consider it quite naked, it is certain, although some error may still
be found in my judgment, that I cannot, nevertheless, thus apprehend it without
possessing a human mind.[ L][
F]
15. But finally, what shall I say
of the mind itself, that is, of myself ? for as yet I do not admit that I am
anything but mind. What, then! I who seem to possess so distinct an
apprehension of the piece of wax, do I not know myself, both with greater truth
and certitude, and also much more distinctly and clearly? For if I judge that
the wax exists because I see it, it assuredly follows, much more evidently,
that I myself am or exist, for the same reason: for it is possible that what I
see may not in truth be wax, and that I do not even possess eyes with which to
see anything; but it cannot be that when I see, or, which comes to the same
thing, when I think I see, I myself who think am nothing. So likewise, if I
judge that the wax exists because I touch it, it will still also follow that I
am; and if I determine that my imagination, or any other cause, whatever it be,
persuades me of the existence of the wax, I will still draw the same
conclusion. And what is here remarked of the piece of wax, is applicable to all
the other things that are external to me. And further, if the [notion or]
perception of wax appeared to me more precise and distinct, after that not only
sight and touch, but many other causes besides, rendered it manifest to my
apprehension, with how much greater distinctness must I now know myself, since
all the reasons that contribute to the knowledge of the nature of wax, or of
any body whatever, manifest still better the nature of my mind ? And there are
besides so many other things in the mind itself that contribute to the
illustration of its nature, that those dependent on the body, to which I have
here referred, scarcely merit to be taken into account.[ L][
F]
16. But, in conclusion, I find I have insensibly reverted to the point I desired; for, since it is now manifest to me that bodies themselves are not properly perceived by the senses nor by the faculty of imagination, but by the intellect alone; and since they are not perceived because they are seen and touched, but only because they are understood [ or rightly comprehended by thought ], I readily discover that there is nothing more easily or clearly apprehended than my own mind. But because it is difficult to rid one's self so promptly of an opinion to which one has been long accustomed, it will be desirable to tarry for some time at this stage, that, by long continued meditation, I may more deeply impress upon my memory this new knowledge.[ L][ F]