S — Sensation

Oysters, we are told, have two senses, moles four, other animals, like human beings, five. Some people admit a sixth; but it is evident that the voluptuous sensation they mean comes down to the sense of touch, and that five senses are our lot. We cannot imagine or desire any beyond them.

On other globes there may be senses of which we have no idea; the number of senses may increase from globe to globe, and the being that has innumerable, perfect senses may be the ultimate limit of all beings.

But we, with our five organs—what power have we? We always feel despite ourselves, never because we wish to. When an object strikes us, it is impossible not to have the sensation our nature assigns us. Feeling is within us, but it cannot depend on us. We receive it; and how do we receive it? It is well known that there is no relation between the vibrating air and words sung to me, and the impression these words make in my brain.

We marvel at thought; but feeling is just as wonderful. A divine power shines in the sensation of the lowest insect as in Newton’s brain. Yet let a thousand animals die before your eyes: you are not anxious about what will become of their faculty of feeling, although this faculty is the work of the Being of beings. You regard them as machines of nature, born to perish and make room for others.

Why and how would their sensation survive when they no longer exist? What need would the author of all that is have to preserve properties whose subject has been destroyed? One might as well say that the power of the plant called the sensitive plant to draw its leaves back toward its branches survives when the plant is no more. You will doubtless ask how, if animals’ sensation perishes with them, human thought will not perish. I cannot answer that question; I do not know enough to resolve it. The eternal author of sensation and thought alone knows how he gives and preserves it.

All antiquity maintained that nothing is in our understanding that has not been in our senses. Descartes claimed in his romances that we had metaphysical ideas before knowing our nurse’s breast. A faculty of theology condemned this doctrine, not because it was an error, but because it was a novelty; it then adopted the error because it had been demolished by Locke, an English philosopher, and an Englishman simply had to be wrong. Finally, after changing its mind so often, it again condemned that ancient truth that the senses are the doors of the understanding. It behaved like debt-ridden governments, which sometimes give currency to certain notes and sometimes discredit them. But for a long time no one has wanted this faculty’s notes.

All the faculties in the world will never prevent philosophers from seeing that we begin by feeling, and that our memory is merely sensation continued. A man born deprived of his five senses would be deprived of every idea, if he could live. Metaphysical notions come only through the senses; for how can we measure a circle or a triangle if we have not seen or touched a circle and a triangle? How can we form an imperfect idea of infinity except by pushing back boundaries? And how can we remove boundaries without having seen or felt them?

“Sensation encompasses all our faculties,” says a great philosopher (page 128, volume 2, Treatise on Sensations).

What conclusion can be drawn from all this? You who read and think: draw it.

Oysters, we’re told, have two senses; moles have four. Other animals have five, like us. Some people recognize a sixth. But the sexual pleasure they mean clearly comes from touch. We’ve been given five senses. We can’t imagine any more, or wish for them.

Beings on other worlds may have senses we know nothing about. Perhaps each world has more senses than the last. Perhaps the being with countless, perfect senses is the highest of all beings.

But what power have we got with our five organs? We always have sensations whether we want them or not, never because we choose them. When an object acts on us, we can’t avoid the sensation our nature gives us. Sensation is in us, but it can’t be under our control. We receive it. How do we receive it? We know well enough there’s no connection between air being struck, words sung to me, and the impression those words make in my brain.

Thought amazes us, but sensation is just as wonderful. Divine power shows itself in the lowest insect’s sensation just as in Newton’s brain. Yet a thousand animals can die before your eyes without worrying you about their ability to feel. What will become of it? You don’t worry, though that ability is the work of the being of beings. You see them as nature’s machines, born to die and make room for others.

Why would their sensation last after they no longer exist? How would it? Why would the maker of everything preserve properties when the thing that had them is destroyed? You might as well say the sensitive plant’s power survives the plant itself. Its power is to draw its leaves back toward its branches. You’ll no doubt ask a question. If animals’ sensation dies with them, how can human thought avoid dying? I can’t answer. I don’t know enough to settle it. Only the eternal maker of sensation and thought knows how he gives it and preserves it.

Throughout the ancient world, people held that nothing reaches our understanding without first passing through our senses. In his fanciful stories, Descartes claimed we had metaphysical ideas before we knew our nurse’s breast. A theology faculty banned that teaching, not because it was wrong, but because it was new. Then it accepted the error because Locke, an English philosopher, had demolished it. An Englishman simply had to be wrong. After changing its mind so often, it finally went back to banning that ancient truth: the senses are the doors to understanding. It behaved like debt-ridden governments. Sometimes they let certain banknotes circulate; sometimes they declare them worthless. But nobody has wanted this faculty’s banknotes for a long time now.

All the faculties in the world can’t stop philosophers seeing that we start by sensing. Our memory is just sensation carried on. A man born without any of his five senses would have no ideas, if he could live at all. Metaphysical ideas only come through the senses. How could you measure a circle or triangle without seeing or touching a circle and a triangle? How could you form an imperfect idea of infinity except by pushing boundaries back? And how could you remove boundaries without ever seeing or feeling any?

“Sensation contains all our faculties,” says a great philosopher ( page 128. Volume 2. treatise on sensations. )

What follows from all this? You’re reading and thinking: draw your own conclusion.