meditations on first philosophy-第7章
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n order to know more distinctly what I am；〃 than if I were to say； 〃I am now awake； and I perceive somewhat that is real and true： but because I do not yet perceive it distinctly enough； I shall go to sleep of express purpose； so that my dreams may represent the perception with greatest truth and evidence。〃 And； thus； I know for certain that nothing of all that I can understand by means of my imagination belongs to this knowledge which I have of myself； and that it is necessary to recall the mind from this mode of thought with the utmost diligence in order that it may be able to know its own nature with perfect distinctness。 But what then am I？ A thing which thinks。 What is a thing which thinks？ It is a thing which doubts； understands； ＇conceives＇； affirms； denies； wills； refuses； which also imagines and feels。 Certainly it is no small matter if all these things pertain to my nature。 But why should they not so pertain？ Am I not that being who now doubts nearly everything； who nevertheless understands certain things； who affirms that one only is true； who denies all the others； who desires to know more； is averse from being deceived； who imagines many things； sometimes indeed despite his will； and who perceives many likewise； as by the intervention of the bodily organs？ Is there nothing in all this which is as true as it is certain that I exist； even though I should always sleep and though he who has given me being employed all his ingenuity in deceiving me？ Is there likewise any one of these attributes which can be distinguished from my thought； or which might be said to be separated from myself？ For it is so evident of itself that it is I who doubts； who understands； and who desires； that there is no reason here to add anything to explain it。 And I have certainly the power of imagining likewise； for although it may happen （as I formerly supposed） that none of the things which I imagine are true； nevertheless this power of imagining does not cease to be really in use； and it forms part of my thought。 Finally； I am the same who feels； that is to say； who perceives certain things； as by the organs of sense； since it truth I see light； I hear noise； I feel heat。 But it will be said that these phenomena are false and that I am dreaming。 Let it be so； still it is at least quite certain that it seems to me that I see light； that I hear noise and that I feel heat。 That cannot be false； properly speaking it is what is in me called feeling；11 and used in this precise sense that is no other thing than thinking。 From this time I begin to know what I am with a little more clearness and distinction than before； but nevertheless it still seems to me； and I cannot prevent myself from thinking； that corporeal things； whose images are framed by thought； which are tested by the senses； are much more distinctly known than that obscure part of me which does not come under the imagination。 Although really it is very strange to say that I know and understand more distinctly these things whose existence seems to me dubious； which are unknown to me； and which do not belong to me； than others of the truth of which I am convinced； which are known to me and which pertain to my real nature； in a word； than myself。 But I see clearly how the case stands： my mind loves to wander； and cannot yet suffer itself to be retained within the just limits of truth。 Very good； let us once more give it the freest rein； so that； when afterwards we seize the proper occasion for pulling up； it may the more easily be regulated and controlled。 Let us begin by considering the commonest matters； those which we believe to be the most distinctly comprehended； to wit； the bodies which we touch and see； not indeed bodies in general； for these general ideas are usually a little more confused； but let us consider one body in particular。 Let us take； for example； this piece of wax： it has been taken quite freshly from the hive； and it has not yet lost the sweetness of the honey which it contains； it still retains somewhat of the odour of the flowers from which it has been culled； its colour； its figure； its size are apparent； it is hard； cold； easily handled； and if you strike it with the finger； it will emit a sound。 Finally all the things which are requisite to cause us distinctly to recognise a body； are met with in it。 But notice that while I speak and approach the fire what remained of the taste is exhaled； the smell evaporates； the colour alters； the figure is destroyed； the size increases； it becomes liquid； it heats； scarcely can one handle it； and when one strikes it； now sound is emitted。 Does the same wax remain after this change？ We must confess that it remains； none would judge otherwise。 What then did I know so distinctly in this piece of wax？ It could certainly be nothing of all that the senses brought to my notice； since all these things which fall under taste； smell； sight； touch； and hearing； are found to be changed； and yet the same wax remains。 Perhaps it was what I now think； viz。 that this wax was not that sweetness of honey； nor that agreeable scent of flowers； nor that particular whiteness； nor that figure； nor that sound； but simply a body which a little while before appeared tome as perceptible under these forms； and which is now perceptible under others。 But what； precisely； is it that I imagine when I form such conceptions？ Let us attentively consider this； and； abstracting from all that does not belong to the wax； let us see what remains。 Certainly nothing remains excepting a certain extended thing which is flexible and movable。 But what is the meaning of flexible and movable？ Is it not that I imagine that this piece of wax being round is capable of becoming square and of passing from a square to a triangular figure？ No； certainly it is not that； since I imagine it admits of an infinitude of similar changes； and I nevertheless do not know how to compass the infinitude by my imagination； and consequently this conception which I have of the wax is not brought about by the faculty of imagination。 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＇ according to truth what wax is； if I did not think that even this piece that we are considering is capable of receiving more variations in extension than I have ever imagined。 We must then grant that I could not even understand through the imagination what this piece of wax is； and that it is my mind12 alone which perceives it。 I say this piece of wax in particular； for as to wax in general it is yet clearer。 But what is this piece of wax which cannot be understood excepting by the ＇understanding or＇ mind？ It is certainly the same that I see； touch； imagine； and finally it is the same which I have always believed it to be from the beginning。 But what must particularly be observed is that its perception is neither an act of vision； nor of touch； nor of imagination； and has never been such although it may have appeared formerly to be so； but only an intuition13 of the mind； which may be imperfect and confused as it was formerly； or clear and distinct as it is at present； according as my attention is more or less directed to the elements which are found in it； and of which it is composed。 Yet in the meantime I am greatly astonished when I consider ＇the great feebleness of mind＇ and its proneness to fall ＇insensibly＇ into error； for although without giving expression to my thought I consider all this in my own mind； words often impede me and I am almost deceived by the terms of ordinary language。 For we say that we see the same wax； if it is present； and not that we simply judge that it is the same from its having the same colour and figure。 From this I should conclude that I knew the wax by means of vision and not simply by the intuition of the mind； unless by chance I remember that； when looking from a window and saying I see men who pass in the street； I really do not see them； but infer that what I see is men； just as I say that I see wax。 And yet what do I see from the window but hats and coats which
