The French academie Fully discoursed and finished in foure bookes. 1. Institution of manners and callings of all estates. 2. Concerning the soule and body of man. 3. A notable description of the whole world, &c. 4. Christian philosophie, instructing the true and onely meanes to eternall life. This fourth part neuer before published in English. All written by the first author, Peter de la Primaudaye, Esquire, Lord of Barre, Chauncellour, and Steward of the French Kings house.

Of the Habite of the soule in the matter of the affections, and of what force it is: of the cau∣ses why the affections are giuen to the soule with the vse of them: of the fountaine of vertues and vices. Chap. 42.

AMANA. If a man will learne an occupation, hee prooues not a workeman the first day, but learneth by little and little, and beginneth to labour therein: afterward by long continuance and custome he groweth more ready in his arte, and practiseth it with greater facilitie and ease. A painter waxeth expert in his science by often painting, and his hand wherewith he laboureth by long continuance becommeth more steady, more ready and able, so that he can handle his pensill with greater ease, & is far more expert therin then he was in the beginning. We may note the like in the soule, and in the chiefe powers & acti∣ons thereof. For there are some of them, which incontinently follow the nature of the facul∣ties of the soule, when they haue their iust times, & are come, as a man would say, vnto their ripenesse, as we may see by experience in the corporall senses. For not long after the childe is borne he seeth and heareth, the reason whereof is because the senses of seeing and hearing are by nature absolute and perfect. Therefore in such actions there needeth no exercise to cause them to performe that which they doe well, but onely a good vigour and strength, be∣cause in them nature is a great Mistres that hath all efficacy. But there are far more excellent actions, as science, arte, prudence, fidelity, & such like, which had need of vse and exercise to cause them to doe readily and well. This vse bringeth custome, which hath in it a faculty to worke, and a disposition tending therunto. And then such actions take the name of Habite, which is bred by the reiterating.

Thus the actions of the Wil and power of desire in the soule, of which we haue spoken be¦fore, when they are often reiterated, so that they grow to bee firme and stedfast, are called habits, because the Wil is so accustomed therunto, that it becommeth more constant either in desiring one certaine thing, or in eschewing the same. Therfore as the affections are more or lesse forward, more seldome or often vsed, more weake or strong, so they are called eyther inclinations or actions, or habits. But we are to note, that habits extend not themselues only to those things which we doe, but also to those which we suffer and abide, which dis∣please * 1.1 vs & are contrary to our nature. For custome diminisheth & moderateth by little and little the sense of that griefe & pain which they bring vs, wherof we haue trial in all diseases, which cōmonly seem not so grieuous & intolerable after we haue bin long accustomed vn∣to thē, as in the beginning of thē. And although pouerty be a heauy burthen, neuerthelesse custome maketh it familiar vnto vs, & familiarity causeth vs to think it lighter. Wherfore we * 1.2 ought not to maruel, if our God doth vsually send affliction to his children to acquaint thē therewith, as also to the ende they might obtaine the vertue of patience, which is learned by often suffering: insomuch that there remayneth a habite in men, which beeing nothing els but a common custome, causeth them mildly to beare and sustaine all euents. Whereas there are some that like furious and desperate men are carried away with great impatience, eyther because they neuer suffered much before, or if they did suffer, yet they neuer accusto∣med themselues to beare their afflictions patiently. Moreouer we know by experience, that although the way of vertue at our first entring thereinto, seeme vnto vs very difficult to tread in, yet afterward we finde it very easie, when we haue walked in it a certaine time. For * 1.3 there is no honest trade of life in which we finde not great difficulty. And the more excel∣ent it is, so much the more troublesome and tedious it will seeme to our flesh, whereas the path of pleasure will seeme to be very delectable and easie, because it is a great deale more naturall to our corrupt nature. But how hard soeuer it be to our flesh to follow after a ver∣tuous, honest, and sober life, yet custome will make it easie to ouerpasse, as likewise to for∣sake that which is contrary vnto it. Therefore it hath not without iust cause beene giuen out long since by wise and skilfull men, that it is very good and profitable to bee accusto∣med

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to good thinges, especially from ones infancy: that it skilleth much how euery one hath hath beene brought vp from his youth: that nothing is of greater force then cu∣stome, eyther to good or to euill, as that which seemeth to bee an other nature. Now vp∣on * 1.4 this speech of Habites wee are to note further, that as all other naturall thinges in the soule are giuen vnto it for the good thereof, so is this habite, which is no other thing but a custome rooted therein. For except continuance of time did confirme this power of the soule, I meane, that it ought not onely to doe a thing, but to doe it well and as it ought to be done, that is, to get a facultie therein through vse and exercise, to the ende it may doe the same thing afterward more freely and readily, and bee more willing to occupy it selfe about the same thing, and that after the same manner, I say, except this be so, many incon∣ueniences will ensue thereupon. The first is, that it should labour altogether in vaine. The second, that it should alwaies come rude and vnskilfull, as it were a newe prentice, to the exercising of these excellent actions and workes. VVhereof this would follow, that ha∣uing profited nothing with the time, it would not doe any thing perfectly. And this wee ought not onely to vnderstand of those things we doe willingly, but euen of that which wee suffer and endure mangre our willes: wherewith of all other things wee had neede to bee best acquainted. For seeing we are compassed about daily with so many miseries, seeing we must suffer and vndergoe so many sharpe and vnworthy assaults, how much grea∣ter will our miserie be, if long custome and an habite in suffering should affoord vs no ease and refreshing? But let vs come now to that which particularly concerneth the affections of the soule, that wee may be fully instructed in the nature and sundry kindes of them. First, wee will note, that we vnderstand by affection that naturall power in the soule, which ope∣neth * 1.5 it selfe towards Good, and withdraweth it selfe from euill, as wee haue already decla∣red, before. Now when the actions of an affection are growne to bee habites, then are they called either vertues or vices, according as they are well or ill done. And from hence proceede good or ill manners, of which morall Philosophy tooke that name, because it in∣treateth of them. For that sheweth what vertue and vice is, how many kindes there are of them, and what difference there is not onely betweene vertues and vices, but also be∣tweene the sundry sorts of them, as wee haue discoursed at large in our first Academicall as∣sembly. But let vs vnderstand this, that the knowledge of the soule and of the powers * 1.6 of it, about which we now labour, is the right spring-head and fountaine of that Moral Phi∣solophy and doctrine. This knowledge therefore is very profitable and necessary, to the end that by it wee may know the originall and beginning of all vertues and vices, of their whole generation, and their sundry kindes. For if wee bee well instructed in all the parts and powers of the soule, we know the causes of these actions: wee know how the minde iudgeth, how the wil chooseth & commandeth as we haue already spoken. And thus we see, that there are most sure and certaine principles of knowledge, which shine in the mind as it were a light, which are the rules whereby the soule squareth out her actions, and which discerne betweeene trueth and falsehood, good and euill, to the ende that all the ac∣tions thereof might agree with those rules, which are the beames of heauenly wisedome in ourselues. For it is an order which God hath so ordained and established. And forasmuch * 1.7 as the soule was to dwell in the body, God gaue vnto it this naturall power of the affections, that it might be wakened and stirred vp by them as it were with prickes, thereby to be kept from idlenes, and from being lulled asleepe and oppressed with the heauines of the body, and so neglect all care of good things, and of that which is very expedient & profitable for it selfe. For this cause the soule hath her affections, of which some serue for spurs to prick her hi∣ther and thither, and as often as neede requireth: others serue for a bridle to keepe her backe and to stay her from rushing vnto euill, and from following those things that are hurtful for her. And indeed we stand in need of such spurs and bridles: but herein we erre greatly in that we know not how to keepe a moderation betweene these twaine. For because wee make these spurres too sharpe, and pricke the horse too much which wee haue to guide, the bri∣dle on the other side is two grieuous vnto him, so that he lifteth vp and girdeth forward ouer furiously. And this commeth to passe because we doe not content ourselues with that which is requisite for the succouring of our naturall necessities, but we adde thereunto infi∣nite superfluities. For vpon some light necessitie that might soone be dispatched, we tor∣ment ourselues a great deale more then need is, because we perswade ourselues that our ne∣cessities are greater then they be, & so seeke after more remedies & help then is requisite. Of this we haue daily experience in that care which wee take for things necessary for this life,

which is the cause that we burne continually with insatiable couetousnesse, which is such a maruellous spur vnto vs, that we take very little rest for it. For if we would bee contented with enough, it would not put vs to that torment, which we daily suffer. But nothing suffi∣ceth * 1.8 vs: and therefore the affections are in our soule, as the windes vpon the sea. For some windes are very small, and mooue the water but a little: others are more vehement, & rayse vp certaine waues: and some againe are so tempestuous, and make such horrible storms and gustes, whereby the Sea is so mooued, that sea and sand and fish and all seeme to bee turned topsie turnie.

The like may bee sayde of the motions of the soule. For some are so light, that they seeme to be nothing else but smal beginnings of moouing. There are others stronger, which mooue it somewhat more. And some also are so violent, that they altogether trouble the soule, euen in such a vehement manner, that they driue her from the seate of iudgement. Therefore these two first kindes of motions are properly called affections, and the other that are so violent are termed Commotions and Perturbations. For they bring a kind of blind∣nesse * 1.9 with them, which is the cause that iudgement and reason see neuer a whit. Whereupon it followeth, seeing neither Reason nor Iudgement heare any more rule, that the Soule is as if shee had no more power ouer herselfe, but were subiect to the iurisdiction of some other. The Grecians terme such affections with a word that signifieth as much as if wee should say passions.

And in deede we commonly say, that a man is passionate, when he is tormented by such violent affections. For as the whole body suffereth when it is mooued, or thrust too and fro, and stricken on euery side: so is it with the Soule being violently mooued euery way. And as the moouing is more or lesse moderate, so she suffereth more or lesse: and if the motion be very violent, confusion followeth thereupon. Now for the sequele of this speech, let vs consider how the affections are more or lesse moderate, according to the disposition of the iudgement: and what is the spring and originall of so many sundry affections, as wee see in men. It belongeth then to thee ARAM, to handle this matter.

Notes

• * 1.1

  What a habite is.
• * 1.2

  Of the force of custome.
• * 1.3

  Sweat is Gen¦tleman vshe•• to vertue.
• * 1.4

  The cause and profit of an habite.
• * 1.5

  VVhat affe∣ction is, and from whence vertue and vice first spring.
• * 1.6

  The foun∣taine of Mo∣rall Philo∣sophy.
• * 1.7

  VVhy the affections are giuen to the soule.
• * 1.8

  The affectiōs compared to the windes.
• * 1.9

  Of commoti∣ons and per∣turbations.