But besides the idea of the infinite, I have yet universal and
immutable notions, which are the rule and standard of all my
judgments; insomuch that I cannot judge of anything but by
consulting them; nor am I free to judge contrary to what they
represent to me. My thoughts are so far from being able to correct
or form that rule, that they are themselves corrected, in spite of
myself, by that superior rule; and invincibly subjected to its
decision. Whatever effort my mind can make, I can never be brought,
as I observed before, to entertain a doubt whether two and two make
four; whether the whole is bigger than one of its parts; or whether
the centre of a perfect circle be equally distant from all the
points of the circumference. I am not free to deny those
propositions; and if I happen to deny those truths, or others much
like them, there is in me something above myself, which forces me to
return to the rule. That fixed and immutable rule is so inward and
intimate, that I am tempted to take it for myself. But it is above
me, since it corrects and rectifies me; gives me a distrust of
myself, and makes me sensible of my impotency. It is something that
inspires me every moment, provided I hearken to it, and I never err
or mistake except when I am not attentive to it. What inspires me
would for ever preserve me from error, if I were docile, and acted
without precipitation; for that inward inspiration would teach me to
judge aright of things within my reach, and about which I have
occasion to form a judgment. As for others, it would teach me not
to judge of them at all, which second lesson is no less important
than the first. That inward rule is what I call my reason; but I
speak of my reason without penetrating into the extent of those
words, as I speak of nature and instinct, without knowing what those
expressions mean.