ctly so.

Hence he proceeds to prove that those which he calls primary qualities
are indeed part of the essence of the body, and characteristic of it;
but that the two other kinds of qualities which together he calls
secondary, are neither of them more than _powers_ of producing on other
objects, or in us, certain effects and sensations. Now a power of
influence is always equally characteristic of two objects--the active
and passive; for it is as much necessary that there should be a power in
the object suffering to receive the impression, as in the object acting
to give the impression. (Compare Locke, Book ii. chap. 21, sect. 2.) For
supposing two people, as is frequently the case, perceive different
scents in the same flower, it is evident that the power in the flower
to give this or that depends on the nature of their nerves, as well as
on that of its own particles; and that we are as correct in saying it is
a power in us to perceive, as in the object to impress. Every power,
therefore, being characteristic of the nature of two bodies, is
imperfectly and incompletely characteristic of either separately; but
the primary qualities, being characteristic only of the body in which
they are inherent, are the most important truths connected with it. For
the question, what the thing _is_, must precede, and be of more
importance than the question, what can it do.

Sec. 3. Color is a secondary quality, therefore less important than form.

Now by Locke's definition above given, only bulk, figure, situation, and
motion or rest of solid parts, are primary qualities. Hence all truths
of color sink at once into the second rank. He, therefore, who has
neglected a truth of form for a truth of color, has neglected a greater
truth for a less one.

Sec. 4. Color no distinction between objects of the same species.

And that color is indeed a most unimportant characteristic of objects,
will be farther evident on the slightest consideration. The color of
plants is constantly changing with the season, and of everything with
the quality of light falling on it; but the nature and essence of the
thing are independent of these changes. An oak is an oak, whether green
with spring or red with winter; a dahlia is a dahlia, whether it be
yellow or crimson; and if some monster-hunting botanist should ever
frighten the flower blue, still it will be a dahlia; but let one curve
of the petals--one groove of the stamens be wanting, and the flower