A general collection of discourses of the virtuosi of France, upon questions of all sorts of philosophy, and other natural knowledg made in the assembly of the Beaux Esprits at Paris, by the most ingenious persons of that nation / render'd into English by G. Havers, Gent.

THE First Conference.

I. Of Method. II. Of Entity.

I. Of Method.

EVery one being seated in the great Hall of the Bu∣reau, Report was made, That the Resolve of the last Conference was, to Print the Matters which should be propos'd henceforward, and the Disquisitions upon them which deserv'd it; As also that for the bringing in of all the most excellent Subjects that are found in the Sciences, and for the doing it orderly, the Method requisite to be observ'd therein should this day be taken into considera∣tion: The practice of which Method was likewise thought fit to be begun upon the most Universal Subject, which is, Entity. Wherefore every one was intreated to set cheerfully about opening the way in this so pleasant and profitable an Enterprize.

The first Speaker defin'd Method [The succinct order of things which are to be handled in Arts and Sciences] and said that it is of two sorts; One, of Composition, which proceedeth from the Parts to the Whole, and is observ'd in Speculative Disciplines; The other, of Resolution, which descendeth from the whole to the parts, and hath place in Practical disciplines. He said also, that hereunto might be added the Method of Definition, which is a way of defining a thing first, and then explicating the parts of its definition: but it participateth of both the former.

The second said, That besides those two general Methods, there is a particular one, which is observ'd when some particular Subject is handled; according to which it behoveth to begin with the Name (or Word;) Distinguish the same by its divers acceptati∣ons; then give the Definition, assign its Principles and Causes, deduce its Proprieties, and end with its Species or Parts.

After this some dilated upon the Method of Cabalists, which they begin with the Archetypal World, or Divine Idea; thence descend to the World Intellectual, or Intelligences; and lastly, to the Elementary, which is, Physicks, or Natural Philosophy.

That of Raymond Lullie follow'd next. And here the Differ∣ence of humane judgements came to be wonder'd at. Most other Nations could never fancy this Art which he calls Great and Wonderful, and yet the Spaniards profess it publickly at Majorca, in a manner ingrossing it from all other places. He maketh the same to consist in thirteen Parts. The first of which he calleth

the Alphabet, from B to K; to each of whose Letters he assign∣eth, 1. a Transcendent after his mode, 2. a Comparison, 3. a Question, 4. a Substance, 5. a Virtue; and 6. a Vice; as to B 1. Goodness, 2. Difference, 3. Whether a thing is? 4. Deity, 5. Justice, 6. Co∣vetousness. To C, 1. Greatness, 2. Agreement, 3. What it is. 4. Angel, 5. Prudence, 6. Gluttony, and so of the rest. The Second Part containes 4. Figures; The Third Definitions. Then follow Rules, Tables, containing the several combinations of Letters: The Evacuation, Multiplication, and mixture of Figures; The 9. Subjects; The Application; The Questions; The custome and manner of teaching; which I should deduce more largely unto you, but that they require at least a whole Conference. In brief, such it is, that he promiseth his disciples that they shall be thereby enabled to answer ex tempore (yet pertinently) to all questions propounded unto them.

The fifth said, That there was no need of recurring to other means then those of the Ordinary Philosophy, which maketh two sorts of Order, namely, one of Invention, and another of Disposition or Doctrine, which latter is the same thing with the Method above defined. And as for the Order of Invention, it is observed when some Science is invented, in which we proceed from Singulars to Universals: As, after many experiences that the Earth interpos'd between the Sun and the Moon caus'd a Lunar Eclipse, this Ʋniversal Conclusion hath been framed, That every Lunar Eclipse is made by the interposition of the Earth between the Sun and the Moon.

An other alledg'd that Method might well be call'd a Fourth Operation of the Mind. For, the First is the bare knowledge of things, without affirmation or negation; The Second is a Con∣nexion of those naked Notices with Affirmation or Negation. The Third is a right disposing of those Propositions and their Conse∣quence; which if it be necessary, it is call'd Demonstration. And the Fourth is the Series of those Demonstrations, in such man∣ner that those on which others depend are the first: as it is seen in the Elements of Euclide.

Also the Lord Montagne's Method was alledg'd, who learnt the Latine Tongue from the Cradle, no person speaking to him but in that Tongue. So was the Cyropaedia of Xenophon, where the Lessons are the Practice of Political and Military Vertues, which serve more to form the Judgement of Children then the Memory.

II. Of Entity.

The First Hour being spent in these Remarks, the Second was imploy'd in discoursing concerning Entity, which was ex∣plicated by this Series, so much the more agreeably to the Company, for that they observ'd such a Contrivance of it that the end of the preceding Period is the beginning of the ensuing.

All Power requires to be reduc'd into Act;

Act is a Perfection;

Perfection is the accomplishment of that which is wanting;

There is wanting to Man Felicity;

Felicity is, to be united to his Principle;

He is united to his Principle when he is made like unto it;

He is made like unto it by Science;

Science is acquir'd by Demonstration;

Demonstration is the knowledge of a thing by its cause;

To know a cause, it is requisite to seek it.

It is sought when we admire it.

We admire that of which we are ignorant.

We are ignorant because of difficulty.

Difficulty, among other causes, ariseth from Disproportion.

Disproportion procedeth from hence, that our Mind is one and finite, and the things which it ought to know are various, yea infinite. Wherefore it ought to reduce all things to one general, which is Entity, called by the Latines Ens; Which being known and subdivided im∣parteth to us the distinct knowledge of all things which depend thereon.

The second added, That Entity is that which is. For the knowing of it, 'tis requisite to consider its Principles, its Proprie∣ties, and its Species. Principles are of two sorts, viz. Either of Cognition; or of the Thing. A Principle of Cognition is, That which causeth us to know a thing; As, That the Whole is greater then it's Part. The Principle of a thing is that which constitutes it; as the Rational Soul, and the Humane Body, are the Principles of Man. The Principle of the Cognition of Entity (which is the sole Principle in Metaphysicks) is this; It is impossible for one and the same thing to be and not to be at the same time. The Princi∣ples of the Thing are Essence and Existence. Essence is that which causeth a Thing to be that which it is; As, Reasonable, Animal, (or Living-creature) is the Essence of Man, because it causeth a Man to be a Man. Existence effecteth that a Thing exists forth of its causes.

The Proprieties of Entity are Three; One, True, and Good. One, that which is not divided in it self, but is different from every Thing else. True, is that which falleth under knowledge. Good, that which is convenient or sutable to each thing.

Entity is divided into Real and Imaginary.

Real Entity is either actually, or in power.

Actual Entity is either Increated or Created.

Created Entity is either Substance or Accident.

Substance is that which subsisteth by it self.

Accident that which cannot be naturally, but in another.

Substance is either Incomplete, which is but a part; or, Com∣plete, which is a Whole.

The Incomplete are the Matter and the Form; The Complete, that which is compounded thereof.

As the deduction of each of the above-mention'd points was

going to be made, it was Remonstrated, That these Matters being not easie to be apprehended, nor otherwise express'd then in Scholastick termes, (which we would avoid) it seem'd meet to pass to things more pleasant, running over the rest as lightly as possible; And yet to pursue both the Methods above mention'd. The Company therefore concluded to treat Of Principles, and Of the End of all things, in general, at the next Conference.

At the hour of Inventions one presented himself and made this overture. I offer to cause any one whatsoever, Man or Woman, of competent age, to comprehend in eight hours, (viz. one hour a day, for avoiding the ryring of the Mind) a perfect Logick, wherein shall be contained all the Precepts of well Defining, Divi∣ding, and Arguing; All the kinds of Arguments, and the places from whence they are drawn; Namely, the Definitions and Divisions of the Ʋniversals, of the Causes, of the Opposites, of the Whole, &c. Their Axiomes, and the limitations of the same, with an Abridge∣ment of Categories. I offer likewise to teach perfectly the Sphere, and all the Principles of Geophraphy, in two hours; so that after∣wards the person shall be able to make use of Maps and Books for knowing the Circles, Zones, and Climates; besides the Parallels and Meridians for finding the degrees of Longitude and Latitude, and other things pertaining to Geography. I will also teach Moral Philosophy in twelve hours; Metaphysicks in ten; but for Na∣tural Philosophy, I ask four times as much time.

Another said, That to let pass these Undertakings (which he judg'd very daring) there is a great difference between VVisedom and Knowledge; Memory principally contributing to the Latter, as Judgement to the Former. That he propos'd a Method to instruct a Child in Wisedom, the Guide and Sterne of Humane Actions.

That all things in the World are either Necessary or Contingent: The former are immutable, the Rules concerning them few, the seeds of them within our breasts, consequently soon learnt and easie to retain: Provided the unconstant and irregular multitude of contingent things come not to interrupt the Production and Growth thereof; As it happens by the thornes of Sciences which Solomon, for this reason, saith were invented to serve for a vain Labour to Men. Sciences, in which there is alwayes room for disputing; because if you except their Principles which they borrow from that Wisedom, all the rest in them is but probable and problematical. I conceive therefore that the true Method of Instructing a Child is to begin by informing his Judgement with the Rules of things Necessary. For which purpose, he must be taken void of all bad impressions; between six and seven years is a fit Age. In the smooth Table of this Mind is to be writ∣ten, in good order, the service of God and the King, Honour, Justice, Temperance, and the other Virtues. When this Mind hath been educated in the Maximes appertaining to each of those Heads; As, That nothing is hidden from God; That 'tis better to

dye then to revolt from the service of the King; That after Honour there is no more loss; It will be requisite to draw for him out of History Examples of such as have been rewarded for perform∣ing the same, and punish'd for failing therein. In the mean time, care must be taken that no evil or dishonest thing be spoken or done before him; if it happen otherwise, chastisement and blame ought to follow the Offenders. This being done, then onely when the precepts which were necessary to his educa∣tion shall have taken such deep root in his Mind as not to be stifled by the multitude of others; My Method proceeds to fur∣nish him with those of the Liberal Sciences. But with this order again, that (for the same reason) the Rules be not confounded to him with Exceptions; but that these latter be then onely taught him after he ha's well comprehended the former.

For conclusion, there was an overture of a Way to teach by Playing, from the A B C to the sublimest Sciences. The Propo∣sers reason was, that the best Method of Sciences is that which takes away Difficulties, the principal of which is, The tedi∣ousness of Study. That there is nothing less tedious then Play, for the sake of which both great and small oftentimes lose their rest and food. That 'twas the intention of the first Authors, that Children should learn as it were playing, instead of the great rigors which cause them to study against their inclination, with the loss of time, and other inconveniences observ'd therein. That hence the Place of Learning retains still in Latine the name of the Play of Letters, and the Regents Masters of the Play.* 1.1 Then he desired of the Company of Commissioners to receive their Judgement upon the Book which he had made upon this Subject; and the same was deliver'd into their hands for them to make their report thereof, that day seven night. After which all were desired that they would please to report there at the following Conferences the Inventions which they conceiv'd likely to profit the publick, with assurance that the honour and benefit thereof should be secur'd to themselves: and so the Company was dis∣miss'd.

CONFERENCE II.

I. Of Principles. II. Of the End of all Things.

I. Of Principles

THese five several acceptions of Principle were first considered.

I. As it is taken for a Cause, especially the Efficient, even that of all Things, and which hath no Beginning, namely, God; who also being the End of all, is upon that account called Alpha and Omega.

II. For the beginning of quantity; as a point is the beginning of a Line.

III. For the beginning of some Action; as the first step is the beginning of the race.

IV. For that which is not made of it self, nor any other; but of which all things are made.

V. For that of which a thing is made, is compos'd, and is known. Which definition comprehendeth the Principles of Generation, Composition, and Cognition. For according to the Order of Nature a thing is made before it is and it is before it is known.

The Second said, That the Principles of Entity and Cognition are the same. For in that they constitute the thing, they are called the Principles of Entity; and inasmuch as Conclusions are drawn from them, they are called Principles of Cognition; Nevertheless deriving their original the one from the other: As from this Principle of Cognition, Nothing is made out of nothing, it is concluded, That then there must be a First Matter.

The Third said, That that distinction of the Three Principles of Generation, viz. Privation, Matter, and Form, (whereof the first and the last are contraries, two onely of Composition, viz. the two last) do's not signifie that there are three Principles of the thing which is made; Seeing that in the instant that a thing is made, to be making (fieri) and to be made (factum esse) are the same. Since then the thing made hath but two Principles, that which is in making hath no more: Privation being but a Con∣dition requisite to Generation, as the Agent, the End, and some other External Principles are.

The Fourth said, That our Mind alone doth not make distin∣ction between those three Principles, but they differ in reality. Those who say Privation is more a Principle of Generation then the rest are mistaken, in that they make Generation partici∣pate more of Non-entity then of Entity. But it is not, seeing it ariseth out of the former to tend to the latter, being in truth nei∣ther the one nor the other. He added, that the Principle of Cognition is either First, or Second. The First proves all, and is prov'd by none; 'tis the basis of all Sciences, and hath two con∣ditions; namely, that it can neither be deny'd nor prov'd. As it cannot be deny'd, That of two Contradictories one is true, and the other false. Neither can the same be prov'd, because there is nothing beyond it, or more clear and evident. The Second Principles are those of the Sciences, which they prove, as them∣selves are prov'd by the first Principle. For example, That Principle of Physick, Contraries are cured by their Contraries, proves this, Evacuation cureth the diseases caused by plenitude; and it self is proved by that other Principle of Natural Philoso∣phy, to which it is subordinate, that Action is onely between Contra∣ries; which is again prov'd by this, That Action tendeth to render the Patient like to the Agent. Which if it be deny'd, 'tis answer'd that if the Agent do not render the Patient like to it self, then this latter would not be altered, and so not be a Patient: Which

cannot be, by the first Principle of Knowledge; That a thing cannot be, and not be, at the same time.

The Fift divided Principles into those of Logick, which constitute a Definition, viz. The Genus and the Difference; into those of Physicks, which constitute corporeal things, viz. Matter and Form; into those of Metaphysicks, which are Act and Power, Essence and Existence, and the Nature and Inherence in all Accidents; And lastly, into Principles Mathematical, which are a point in continu'd quantities, and an Ʋnite in Numbers.

The sixth fram'd this Question, Since every thing that hath a Beginning hath also an End, how is Number, which hath a Unite for its Beginning, Infinite? It was answer'd by another, That that infinity of Number is not in Act, as its Beginning is, but onely in Power. For when 'tis said, That there is no Number so great, but may be made greater to infinity, this ought not to be accounted more strange then that other Proposition, which is also true, viz. That a Quantity which hath a Beginning may be divided without End; There being no Body so small but may be divided again into a less: For that some thing cannot be resolv'd into nothing, as of nothing cannot be made some thing naturally.

This matter was ended with another division of Principles into General and Particular. The General (said they) are some times, but indiscreetly, confounded with Causes and Elements. For every Principle is not a Cause, nor every Cause an Element, nor any Element a Principle: Although every Element be a Cause, and every Cause be a Principle, External or Internal. That every Principle is not a Cause, appears by Privation, which is a Principle (notwithstanding what hath been otherwise argu'd) by the Maxim above alledg'd; That Action is onely between Contraries. Principles then must be such. Now the Matter is not contrary to the Form; Therefore Privation must. That every Cause is not an Element, is clear by the Final and the Efficient, both of them being extrinsical to the Thing; And neverthe∣less an Element is the least part of the Thing in which it is in Act or in Power. It is also manifest that an Element is not a Principle, for it is compounded, and corporeal; which a Princi∣ple is not. Particular Principles are as various as there are seve∣ral things in the world. So the Principle of Divinity is the Faith; Of Physick, to preserve the Man and destroy the disease; Of Law, that which is according to Nature, Reason, and Custome: The Principle of Understanding is Natural Evidence; those of Oeconomy, lawful acquisition and use of Goods; Of Politicks, Policy, Prudence applyed to right Government; Of Prudence, that which is expedient to do or avoid, The Principles of Ma∣thematicks are its Axiomes; As if, of two equal tfiings, you take away from one as much as from the other, the remainder shall be equal.

The Principles of History are Experience and Humane Faith: Of other Arts and Disciplines, their Rules and Precepts. The

Principles of Man as Man, are the Body and the Soul; as a mixt Substance, the Four Elements; as a Natural, the Liver; as Vital, the Heart; as an Animal or Sensitive, the Brain; as Reasonable, the Intellect. The Principles of an Argument are the Major and the Minor. The End is the Principle of rational Actions; as the Matter in things Natural, and the Idea in Artificial.

II. Of the End of all Things..

The Second Hour was imploy'd in discourse touching the End; concerning which it was said, First, that End may be taken as many wayes as Beginning; Improperly, for the corruption of some thing (therefore, saith Aristotle, Death is not an End, but a terme) Properly, 'tis the Good whereunto all things tend; and 'tis either first (as, to make a medicine) or last (as to cure.) Things which can tend to this End are divided into four Classes. Some are furnish'd with Reason, but not with Sense; as the Angels or Intelligences: Others have Reason and Sense, as Man: Others have Sense without Reason, as Brutes: Others have neither Sense nor Reason, as all the rest of the Creatures. Onely the two former Agents, namely, Angel and Man, act formally for some End; because they alone have the four conditions requi∣site for so doing; viz. 1. Knowledge of the End; 2. Knowledge of the Means which conduce thereunto; 3. A Will to attain it; And 4. Election or Choice of those Means. Others act indeed for it, but improperly; as the Spider and the Swallow, though they frame onely by a natural Instinct, the one its Web, the other its Neast, yet attain their End; and the Stone is carried by its own weight to its Centre, which is its Good; but with∣out the above-mention'd conditions.

The Second went about to prove that some of those Animals, which we account void of Reason, Act formally for their End. For, said he, not to mention the Elephant, recorded by Plutarch, who divided his Oates in his Master's presence, as to shew him that he had but half his allowance usually given him; or that other who carried his Kettle to the River, and fill'd it with wa∣ter, to try whether it had not a hole in it; Nor the Ox, who never went beyond the number of buckets of water which he was wont to draw; Nor the Fox, which layes his Ear to the Ice to listen whether the water moves still underneath, before he trust himself upon it; Nor the Hart of Crete, which runs to the Dittany, and, as they say, with that herb draws the Arrow out of his flesh: Is it not for the good of its young that the Swallow distills into their Eyes the juice of Celandine, with which she re∣covers their sight? From whence Men have learnt to make use of that herb against the filme of the Eye. Have we not Horses which let themselves blood? Ha's not the Dog election of all the wayes, whereof he chooses onely that which his Master went, who (with all the goodly prerogatives that he ascribes to him∣self above him) cannot do so much as his Dog? And though the Example be familiar, do we not see Domestick Animals

whom the Apprehension of beating keeps often from doing the mischief to which their natural inclination leads them: Which is, not onely to know an End, but amongst many to choose the best.

The Third reply'd, That these Examples evidence the dexte∣rity of Man's wit; who knows how to apply them to his own purposes: But, in reality, it belongs not to a Brute, what ever advantage it may get by commerce with Man, to know its End as an End: Because the End is that which measures the Means; a Mean (Medium) being not the better for that it is greater, but for that it is fitter proportion'd to its End. So when Hippocrates cures the Cramp with cold water, the Cure is not less excellent then if he did it with potable Gold. Now this Comparing and Measuring is a work of the Understanding.

The Fourth said, As all other Lights disappear at the Sun's, so all the other Ends must give place to the Last, which is the Supreme Good, or, Felicity: Which being either Natural or Su∣pernatural, and this latter inexpressible; It seems that the pre∣sent Exercise ought to terminate in the former, namely, Natu∣ral Felicity. This Beatitude, in what ever thing it is found, (for Saint Augustine reckons above eight hundred Opinions about it, and yet more may be added to the number) consists in the most excellent Action of Man, which cannot depend but upon the no∣blest Faculties, the Understanding and the Will. The Action of the former is to Ʋnderstand; That of the Latter is to Will. The Felicity then of Man consists in Ʋnderstanding well, and in Willing well, or Loving; For the pleasure of Enjoyment is but the relishing of this Felicity, not the Felicity it self, as some have thought, with Epicurus, who is to be blam'd onely in this regard: For it is neither true, nor credible, that a Philosopher could so much forget himself as the vulgar imputes to him, to place the Supreme Good in Pleasures, even the foulest and grossest.

The Fifth maintain'd, That it was unprofitable to speak of a Thing which is not; Meaning, that pretended worldly Felicity which Men onely fancy; and to that Induction which Solomon makes of all the things in which Men seek their contentment in vain, he added Authorities holy and profane; to shew that there is nothing happy on all sides; and that Solon had reason to say, That Felicity is not to be found in this Life.* 1.2

The Sixth reply'd, That what is said of the Miseries of this corruptible Life, compar'd with the beatitude of the other eter∣nal, ought not to be confounded and taken absolutely. That the contentments of the one cannot be too much vilifi'd, in re∣spect to the ravishments of the other; of which the Pagans themselves had knowledge enough (though under several names) by the sole Light of Nature, to cause them to make the Fiction of the Elizian Fields; in comparison of which they held that there was nothing but unpleasantness in this world. But as the barbarousness of some Ages past is not to be compar'd with

the Politeness and Learning of this (and yet there was alwayes some or other amongst them that pass'd for an accomplish'd Man) so because there is a great Felicity in Heaven, it is not to be infer'd that there is none at all upon Earth. Besides, we might (contrary to the receiv'd Maxime) accuse Nature of ha∣ving made some thing in vain, by Imprinting in Man that de∣sire of becoming happy in this world, if he cannot be so.

The Seventh said, That a Man is not happy by possessing some Excellent Thing, but by the satiating of his desire. And therefore if (which is impossible) a happy Man should desire some greater Good, he were no longer happy. As on the contrary, he who can satisfie himself with the least Good, is nevertheless happy. For 'tis the correspondence or sutableness which makes a Good to be e∣stemed such. A Good may content the Appetite without reflecti∣on; but ifthe conditions of the Enjoyment be reflected upon, it will suffice for the rendring it perfect, that the Imagination ex∣empt it from all imperfection, and attribute all the Prerogatives to it which the Will desires in it; although it deceive it self.

The Eight defined, The Supreme Good, (after Aristotle) The Action of the most perfect Virtue, (which is Wisedom and Pru∣dence) in a perfect Age and a long Life, accompani'd with the Goods of the Body and of Fortune, viz. Health, Beauty, Nobility, Riches, and Godly Children. Not that the Felicity which is call'd Formal consists in these Goods; but they serve for instruments and orna∣ments unto it, as 'tis hard for a sick Man to become Learned, and for a poor to exercise the Virtues of Liberality and Magnisicence.

The Ninth said, That in Morality the General Propositions are easier to be assented to, then the Particular; Yea, that there are many to which all the world assents in general termes; As, That Virtue ought to be Loved. For then we willingly em∣brace it wholly naked. But by reason of the difficulties which ac∣company it, Opinions become divided. The Prudent, who knows how to moderate his Passions, willeth it; The Inconti∣nent, who pleaseth to let himself be hurried by the torrent, willeth it not; And denying in the retail what he before approv'd in the gross, contradicts himself. Another willeth and willeth it not, because he willeth it too faintly, or doth not sufficiently avoid the occasions which lead to Vice. Thus all the world agrees, That it behoveth to render to every one that which belongs to him; but in the Application, the honest Man doth so, the dishonest doth the contrary. There is not the Man but confesseth, That the End ought to be prefer'd before the Means which conduce to that End; But one takes for an End that which another takes for a Means. The Covetous (and indeed most Men) take Riches for the End, and Virtue for the Means. On the contra∣ry, the Good Man takes Riches for the Means, and Virtue for his End. In my Judgement, the true Felicity of Man in this world comprehendeth the Goods of the Mind, as the End; the Goods of the Body and Fortune onely as the Means.

There was none in the Company but seem'd to have a Mind to speak something to this great Question; of which, out of this Conference, even every particular Man daily passeth Judge∣ment without speaking. For he who forgets all things else, for the acquiring of Honour or Riches, or for the taking of his Pleasure, doth he not imply that he maketh the same his Supreme Good? He that entreth into a Religious Order, doth he not seek the same in Religion? And so of others. But for that the Second Hour was slipt away, the Company proceeded to deter∣mine the matter to be treated of at the next Conference; which was, for the First Hour, Of Causes in General. And because there is observ'd in some, even the most equitable, an ardour in maintain∣ing their Judgements, though every one was sufficiently warn'd that this place is to have no disputings, and that none is oblig'd to uphold what he hath said with new Reasons, (our sentiments here being all free;) It was propos'd, for the second point, to be particularly inquir'd, Why every one desires to have his own Judge∣ment follow'd, though he have no interest therein.

The Hour design'd for Inventions began with the Report made by the Commissioners nominated at the last Conference for examining the Book containing the Method of Teaching the Liberal Disciplines by Playing; The Report was, That the Author seem'd very capable of performing it, the Discourse being written in a good stile; That he evidently prov'd that the thing is Practicable; as well in respect of the Method it self, which seemes feasable, as the Masters of the Play, and the Disciplines. But for that he discover'd his meaning onely in the Art of Teaching to read and write, and not in the other Disci∣plines, they could not give their Judgements upon more then what appear'd to them; and so much they lik'd and approv'd.

Then an Other presented a Latine Poem, Entitl'd, Fulmen in Aquilam, containing, in Twelve Books, Twelve Thousand Heroick Verses, in which was compriz'd the Life, Atchievments, and Death of the King of Sweden; Having first Remonstrated to the Company that the great reputation of these Conferences brought him from his own Country to this City, that he might correct, refine, and polish his work, by the censure of so many great Wits as met there; Conceiving there is no better way to write things for lasting, then to pass them under the Judgements of many. Whereupon Commissioners were assigned to him for that end, into whose hands he deliver'd his Work.

After which, to shew that something has a Beginning, and yet no End; Another offer'd to make appear the Experiment of a Perpetual Motion, if the matter could be kept from decaying.

A Third answer'd, That making it of Glass, the matter would be Eternal, Glass being the last Product of Nature; And that thence the Conjecture is probable that the Earth will be vitrifi'd by the last Conflagration, and by that means become diaphanous and resplendent. And thus ended this Conference.

CONFERENCE III.

I. Of Causes in General. II. Whence it is that every one is zealous for his own Opinion, though it be of no importance to him.

I. Of Causes in General.

HE who spoke first, said, That the word Cause must not be confounded with that of Reason, though it seemes so in our manner of Speech; because an Effect serves sometime for a Reason to prove its Cause. As when I am ask'd the reason by which I know that Fire is Light; I Answer, By its ascending upwards; which is the Effect of Fire, and the proof but not the Cause of its lightness. Cause also differs from Principle, because every Cause is real, and imparts a being different from its own; which Pri∣vation (being a Principle) hath not: And so every Cause is a Principle, but every Principle is not a Cause. Now a Cause is That which produceth an Effect. There are Four; Matter, Form, the Agent, and its End. Which Number is not drawn from any real distinction between them; Seeing many times one and the same Thing is Form, Agent, and End, in several respects. So the Rational Soul is the Form of Man, the Efficient Cause of his Ratiocination, and the next End of the Creation. But it is drawn from the four wayes of being a Cause, which are call'd Causalities; whereof one susteineth the Forms, to wit, the Matter, An Other informeth that Matter, and is the Form; A Third produceth that Form, and uniteth it to the Matter, and is the Agent, or Efficient Cause; The Fourth by its goodness exciteth the Agent to act, and is the Final Cause.

The Second said, That the Causes are handled diversly, ac∣cording to the diversity of Sciences. The Logician speaks of them so far as he draws from them his Demonstrations, Definitions, and Probable Arguments: The Natural Philosopher, inasmuch as they are the Principles of all kind of Alterations hapning in na∣tural bodies: The Metaphysitian, as Cause is a Species of Entity, which is generally divided into Cause and Effect: In which consi∣deration Supernatural Things have also some Causes, but not all. Wherefore, in my Judgement, said he, Cause taken in general cannot be divided into the Four Species above men∣tion'd; because Spirits have no Material Cause: but it ought to be first divided, in reference to Immaterial things, into Efficient and Final; and into the four abovesaid, in respect of Material. That Efficient Cause is the first principle of Motion and Rest, and is of two sorts; viz. Ʋniversal or Equivocal, and Particular or Ʋnivocal. The former can produce several effects of different Species, whether it depend not on any other, as God, and is then call'd the First Cause; or depend on some other, and is call'd a Second Cause; As the Sun, which together with Man generates

Man. The Particular (otherwise, Univocal) Cause is that which produceth one sort of effect alone; As Man generateth Man. The Material Cause is that of which something is made. The Formal Cause is that which causeth the Thing to be that which it is, whether Essentially, as the Soul makes the Man; or Accidentally, as a round form makes a Bowle. The Final is that which incites the Agent to act: as Gain doth the Merchant to Traffick.

The Third said, Matter and Form being parts of the whole cannot be Causes thereof; because then they would be Causes of themselves; which is absurd. Neither is the End a Cause, but onely the term and rest of the Cause; Besides, there are some Ends which are impossible to obtain, and are nothing of reality, such as a Cause ought to be; as when Heliogabalus propounded to himself to become a Woman, others to fly, to become invi∣sible, and the like absurdities. So that there is but the Efficient Sole Cause of all Things, which is the Internal Idea in God, which is nothing else but that Fiat which created the World. 'Tis that very Cause which produceth all things in all different times and places, and acts upon Art, Nature, and Nothing; whence it is that All Entity, conformable to that Increated Exemplar, beareth those three Characters, Truth, Goodness, and Ʋnity, which all things are bound to represent, under the Penalty of be∣coming Nothing, out of which they were produced. 'Tis a Circle (according to Trismegist) whose Centre is every where, and Circumference no where; which possibly mov'd Galen to term Man the Centre of Mixt Bodies; and all Antiquity, a Little World; and made Saint Thomas say, that Man hath been united hypostatically to God the Son, who is the Idea of the Father, for the rejoyning of all the productions of the world to their first Principle. Here he fell into Divinity, but he was admonish'd to observe the Rules appointed by this Assembly, to keep as far off as possible from such Matters; and so he ended, when he had mention'd the order that is observ'd in the actions of that Idea, (which said he) acteth first upon the Intelligences as nearest approaching to its pure Nature; they upon the Heavens, these upon the Elements, and these upon mixt bodies.

The Fourth added, That that Idea is a Cause not onely in Na∣tural Things, but also in Artificial. As in the building of a House, the Idea which the Architect hath in his Mind excited his Will, and this commands the Motive-faculty of the Members, or those of his Laborours, to dispose the Stones, Timber, and Morter; which entring into the Composition of the Building, cannot (for the Reason above-mention'd) be Causes of it, as neither can the proportion and form.

An Other said, That if the Idea be a Cause, (which cannot be but in Artificial Things) it must be the Formal, and not the Effi∣cient; since it is nothing else but an Original, in imitation of which the Artificer labours; and since the work derives its form from that Idea which is the Copy.

It was added by a Sixth, That the Idea is not Cause, but the true Essence of Things, and the first objective Verity which precedes all Knowledge Humane, but not Divine; and is onely hereby distinct from Nothing, in that it is known by God: which suteth not with Nothing, from which any thing cannot be distin∣guish'd; but it must be, if not in Act, at least in Power.

The Seventh, amplifying touching Ideas, said, That upon the Knowledge of them depend all Sciences and Arts, but especially all what Men call Inventions, which are nothing less then such; because 'tis no more possible to invent some thing new, then to create some substance, and make some thing of nothing. But as all things are made by Transmutation, so no Novelty is produc'd by Imitation, either of things which are really existent, or which our Mind frames and connects; as of a Mountain and Gold, it makes a Golden Mountain. Thus the four most Excellent Inventions of the Modern Ages; The Compass, the Gun, Printing, and Perspective-glasses; the two former were de∣riv'd from Experiments of the Load-stone, from the effect of shooting Trunks and Fire. As for Printing, what is the Matrice wherein the Founders cast their Characters, or those Characters compos'd in a flat Form, as also Copper-cuts, but a perfect Ex∣emplar and Idea, which is communicated fully to all its in∣dividuals? And Perspective-glasses are nothing but ordinary ones multiply'd.

Another said, That Causes cannot be known at all; whence it comes to pass that we have no certain Knowledge; Now to know, is to know a thing by its Causes. For the Ʋniversal Efficient Cause is above us, and surpasseth the capacity of our Under∣standing; and hence all the other inferiour and subordinate ones are unknown, because their Cause is not known. The Final is not in our power, and being not so cannot be known, because knowing presupposeth being. Formes and Specifical Differences are hidden to us. The Matter is so unknown, and so little a thing, that even Aristotle could not define it, saving by what it is not, or by Analogy and Proportion to other things; But since Propor∣tion cannot be but between two things equally known, and the First Matter being not so, (so much as the Wax, to which, for Example, it is compar'd) our Mind cannot comprehend that Analogy.

The Ninth said, That the Elements (which he held to be the First Matter) are ingenerable and incorruptible; Mixt Bodies be∣ing nothing else but those Elements united in sundry fashions. That this Harmonical Ʋnion and Symmetry is the form of Mixts, which is nothing but a certain Mode or Fashion of Being: Whence in all kind of Generation, there being no Substantial Mutation, but onely a Conjunction and Separation of the Elements, there is no other Cause but their Matter. Which is thus prov'd to be the First; because if there be a second granted, then as Brass, being the Matter of a Statue, that Brass must have another

Matter, and this is a Third, and so to Infinity; unless one First be acknowledg'd.

The Tenth said, That if a Material Cause be admitted, the Three other must be admitted also. For Matter naturally desir∣ing Formes, it is alter'd from one into another, and that Altera∣tion cannot arise from it self: For Nothing is altered by it self but by an other. It comes then from some Agent which moves that Matter, and which is the Efficient Cause; which cannot do any thing in vain, but for some End, and this is the Final Cause. This End is in Natural Things the same with the Form, and dif∣fers not from it but according to our manner of Understanding. For the End of Generation is the Form of the Thing generated; and that very Formis the End of Generation. Wherefore, admit∣ting the Matter, the other Three cannot be excluded.

II. Whence it is that we are zealous for out own Opinions.

Here they pass'd to the Second Point design'd for this Confe∣rence, upon which many Opinions of divers Authors were al∣ledged; Some attributing the Zeal for our own Judgements to the Antipathy which is found in contrary Humours, caus'd by the diversity of Temper, and these by the opposition of the Heavenly Bodies: Especially when Saturn, that obstinate and melancholly Planet is predominant there. Others refer'd it to Ambition, following the conceit of those who think there is a Heap of Honour in the world, to which every one hath his right, and of which there is less left to others when some are suffer'd to take a great deal. One ascrib'd it to the subtilty of the Mind, which seeks to sport it self in new conceits, and having produc'd them will not seem to want means to defend them. And he observ'd that this Cantharides of Opinastry adheres usually to the goodliest flowers, there being otherwise nothing more necessary to the evidencing of Truth then contest in which we propose to our selves to find it.

After this, One explicated that which gave occasion to the Question, in this manner. Men desire nothing but Good, di∣stinguish'd into Honour, Profit, and Pleasure. None of which Three are gotten by obstinacy in an erronious conceit, especially when it is known for such; But, on the contrary, there is shame in it, one loseth his credit by it many times, but alwayes the time, and renders himself unacceptable to the hearers, as 'tis seen in Scholastick Disputes. Whence it comes to pass that a Scholar brought up in these wranglings never begins to be esteem'd in company till he has laid aside that ill quality of Never∣yielding. Whereas, on the contrary, the more Ingenuous decline those Asperities by words of yieldance even in things wherein they have apparently most of Reason on their side. And whon they are mistaken, as a metled Horse rather rids himself out of the Plough then stayes there; So 'tis proper to a strong Mind to betake to a better Sentiment then its own, without sticking at the fear which the weaker are possess'd with, lest they should be

blam'd for having been subject to err either in fact or in right: Remembring that 'tis incident to Humanity to err, but Diabo∣lical to persevere in a fault. Hippocrates hath freely told his own. St. Augustin hath made a Book purposely of his Retractations, and after him Cardan, and many other great personages. Every one knows this, every one commends it rather then Opiniastry; but when it comes to the effect, very few people practise it. Which might be excus'd by the strong Passion for particular interests, if Men gave their Opinions in a Matter which concern'd their or their Friend's Estate, &c. But I account it strange in a Question which imports no benefit at all to any person, as in that about the Idea's which we were newly speaking of.

The next found some scruple in the Thesis: for that it seem'd impossible to him for a Man not be concern'd for his Good; Now his Good is that his judgement be alwayes esteemed. Nor matters it that he may be mistaken in his conceit of that Good; for it sufficeth that he judge it such: Objects of the Will being to the Understanding, as Colours are to Light; this doth not give them their Essence of Colour, but they hold that from their own Principle; but it imparts the being visible, or visibility, to them: So the Understanding gives not to the Objects of the Will that sutableness wherein the Nature of Good consists, they have that from their own stock and Nature; but it gives them Amability or Appetibility, or, to speak better, the being amiable or desirable. For knowing such convenience or suta∣bleness, it judgeth the sutable thing amiable; So that as soon as 'tis judg'd such, 'tis desired as a Good. Now Man judging it a Good to have his Opinion follow'd, willeth it as such; and as a thing wherein he hath the highest interest. For Man, as Man, hath no Good more Eminent then to Know, Judge, and give his Sentence of Things; 'tis his utmost Natural End. Moreover, Truth which is the Result of that Good, is defin'd a Measure, Adequateness, and Correspondence of our Under∣standing and the Thing known, attributing to it nothing Extrin∣sical, and abstracting from it nothing that is its own. Now a Man that hath judg'd and given his advice, at least according to his Apprehension, seeing that advice rejected, falls into a double interest; One arising from the charitable inclination which he hath for the good of him that consults him, whom he seeth likely to miscarry by not following his advice; The other being his own proper interest, for that the sleighting his advice is a ta∣cite accusing him of failing in a Thing Essential to his End, and calling him a Monster, or Fault of Nature. For as a Monster is call'd a Fault of Nature, because the Agents producing it have slipt and gone awry out of the way which she had prescrib'd and scored out to them: So Man not judging as he ought, deviates out of the way which leadeth to his End. This is it which makes him so sensible of the sleighting of his advice, which sleighting seems to conclude that he hath ill judged, and is a Lyar in his Know∣ledge.

And hence it is said that our French cannot endure a Lye, by which a Man is imply'd to have no Understanding nor ability to judge; seeing a Lye is opposite to that Truth which I spoke of. For the same Reason a Man is ossended with being called Fool, that is, stupid and unable to judge; in Revenge of which Injury, and to render the like, he often gives a Cuff, which stricketh upon the Seat of Wisedom, the Face; for accord∣ing to Solomon, the Wisedom of a Man shineth in his Counte∣nance: Therefore our Lord saith in the Gospel, that he who calleth his Brother Fool is liable to Hell, for that he impeacheth the goodly lustre of Gods Image, which consisteth in Judge∣ment and Knowledge; which he who calleth Fool, obscureth and bringeth in doubt.

The Third said, That the Reason why we are so zealous for our Opinions, is, For that we love all that proceedeth from our selves, and particularly our Children, in whom we see pour∣tray'd somewhat of our own Images; So our Opinions and Conceptions being the fruits of our Mind, we love them with Passion. Whence also Men are more lovers of the wealth which they have acquir'd themselves, then of that which they inherit. But the Reason why we are so zealous of our opinions, though we know they are false, is, That the more false Things are, the more they are their own. For a true Opinion is ours indeed, but not altogether, for it is also in the Thing; Whereas that which is false is onely ours, since it hath no foundation in the Thing, but meerly in our Mind which imagines it to be, though it be not. Whence it is that there is no Religion nor Heresie so false, but have had their Authors and followers, Yea, 'tis chiefly in this kind of Judgement that we will not be controll'd; But Authorities, Reasons, Experiences, and also punishments being ineffectual, cause it to be conjectur'd that there is something more then Humane therein. For our Mind, which of it self is pleas'd with sublime Things, such as they are which concern Religion, is the more zealous of them the more false they are, as being alto∣gether our own.

The following Speakers refer'd the Cause to the difficulty of defacing that which is engraven in our Understanding; To our being grounded in Different Principles, to the habit which some have of contradicting all proposals of others; like the Woman of whom Poggio the Florentine speaks, who being drowned, her Husband went to seek her up the stream, because she fell into the River far below; and to those who advertis'd him to seek her downwards, he answer'd; That they did not know his wives Humour: For since others floated down according to the cur∣rent of the River, she would infallibly ascend against the stream of the water.

The Third Hour was spent in the Report of the Poem deli∣ver'd to be examin'd in the preceeding Conference; the Author of which was the more commended for so great a Performance,

in that there hath not appeared in our Age so long-winded a Poem: Whereof the fault was attributed to the niceness of the Witts of these Times, impatient of long reading, and the too exact manner of writing wholly turn'd into points, the continua∣tion of which is next to impossible.

Amongst other Inventions, was offer'd that of an Instrument which so magnifieth a species, that a Flea appears in it of the big∣ness and form of a Rat, and the little wormes which are found in all kinds of good Vinegar, of the bigness of Eeles.

For that One had spoken otherwise of the First Matter then they do in the Schools, and there had not been sufficient Infor∣mation of the Proposal made in the last Conference touching a Perpetual Motion, they were appointed for the Subjects of the next.

CONFERENCE IV.

I. Of the First Matter. II. Of Perpetual Motion.

I. Of the First Matter.

THe Entrance into the former of these Subjects was made in this manner. We should be too sensual Philosophers, if we believ'd nothing but what we see; though also we see the First Matter; but 'tis as the Ancients said Proteus was seen, name∣ly, in so many formes that there was not one of them his own, and yet he was never destitute. So I see the First Matter under the form of a Man, a Horse, a Tree, a stone, and yet the stone, Tree, Horse, Man, are not the Form of that First Matter, for it hath none: Otherwise, if I conceive it cloth'd with one single Form, 'tis then call'd Second Matter. Nevertheless they differ not really one from the other; no more then a Man naked, and afterwards clothed. The First is the common Subject of Substan∣tial Formes, and remaineth both before and after Corruption.

The Second said, That as God is Incomprehensible, by rea∣son of his exceeding Grandeur; so is this First Matter, by reason of its baseness and lowness; which makes it of all Things of the world neerest to Nothing, conceivable by its obscurity alone, as the night which we begin to see when we no longer see any thing else. Whence it followes that we cannot say what it is, but onely what it is not.

The Third said, That as Inachus, Father of Io, seeking his Daughter, found her Name written every where: For being turn'd into a Heifer, whose Foot is cloven, with the Pastern she grav'd an O, and with the cleft an I, and so form'd Io. Ne∣vertheless her Father knew her not; for she was under a form which cover'd and hid the shapes and lines of her visage: Just so is the First Matter found written every where. For of it (bet∣ter then of Jupiter) we may say that it is whatsoever thou seest,

and whatsoever is mov'd is Matter:* 1.3 But being cover'd with a form, and involv'd with the attires that follow it, it cannot be seen in the pure and naked Nature of First Matter. And just as in a loaf of Bread, the Leven which fermented it is there, though kneaded and temper'd in the mass of Meal, in which it seemeth lost: For being dissolv'd it turnes to it self, and into its own Nature, the whole Mass wherein it is incorporated: And as in Cheese, the Rennet (though dissolv'd and mixt in the Milk) ceases not to be there; yea, draws to its Nature the substance into which it was liquifi'd: So the First Matter, though it seem to have lost its being by entring into the Compound, retaines the same notwithstanding, and also draws all to it self, rendring material what ever it is joyn'd to. And although it be not visi∣ble or perceptible when 'tis alone, yet it is real in the Compound, in which it puts off the Name of First, and takes that of Second. We prove this First Matter from the Necessity of a Common Sub∣ject in all Mutations, out of which the Agents, which destroy the formes opposite to their own, may draw forth those which they will produce; which is the term of their Action: Other∣wise Things must become nothing, to pass from one being to another; which would presuppose Creation, and destroy those Two Maximes, That a Thing cannot be reduc'd into Nothing; and Of Nothing is not made something. It is defin'd An Imperfect and Incomplete Substance, the First Subject of Natural Things, which are compos'd of it as an Internal and Essential part, not by acci∣dent. Its quality is to be a pure Passive Power, which is nothing distinct from it self, but is taken for a Thing begun and not per∣fected; yet design'd to be finished by the Supervening of the Form, and the interposing of Agents, who by their activities drawing the Form out of the bosome of it, perfect and accomplish it. It serves for two purposes: First, To give durance and Consist∣ence to all Things, which last so much the longer as their Matter is less compounded; That is to say, less alienated from its naked and pure Nature of First Matter: As it appears in the Heavens and the Elements, which I conceive are not changed one into another. In the Second place it serves Agents for to act, and Patients to resist. Whence it comes to pass, that the more com∣pact and close their Matter is, the more powerfully they resist: As appears in a hot Iron which burnes more then common flame; in Water which moistens more then aire, though it be less humid; and in Steel, which resists more then Lead.

The Fourth said, That to know what this First Matter is, it behoveth to proceed thereunto by the way of the Senses, and then examine whether Reason can correct what they have dictat∣ed to us. Now our Senses tell us that most part of mixt Bodies are resolved into Salt, Sulphur, and Mercury; And the Chymists af∣firm, that these Three Bodies cannot be reduced into any other Matter by any Artifice. But Reason correcting Sense teacheth us, that though these Three Bodies are Chymical Sensible

Principles, yet they are not First Principles, nor the true First Matter; for that all Bodies are not made of them (as 'tis seen in the Coelestial) and they may yet be reduc'd into another Matter, viz. into the Elements. For in Sulphur there is Fire, seeing it is inflamable; And it hath also some Aqueous or Terrestrial Sub∣stance which makes visible that Fire. Likewise there is Fire in Salt, seeing it is tart and biting, and according to the Chymists, the subject of natural heat: There is Water too, for it melteth, and it extinguisheth Fire: There is also Earth in it, for it is dry, fixt, compact, and weighty. Wherefore Reason leading us as far as the Elements, it remaineth to consider whether we must stop there, or go yet further, to find out a Matter into which these are reduc'd. But not finding any, I conceive they must be the First Matter.

The Fifth reply'd, That the Elements being complete Substan∣ces, and consequently compounded of Matter and Form, we must not stop there, but go further in search of that first and ultimate subject of all Natural Mutations; it being inconsistent, that a Compound of Matter and Form should be but one of those Two.

The sixth held, That Water is the First Matter, if not the Elementary, at least the Aethereal Water, which was for that purpose created first: The Holy Scripture witnessing, that In the beginning God created the Heaven and the Earth: Where the Hebrew word that is render'd Heaven signifie The Waters; and 'tis added That the Spirit of God moved upon the Waters. More∣over, our Life consisteth solely in Humidity; which failing, Death ensueth.

The Seventh said, That the First Matter being a Thing most imperfect, and least active, such as the Earth is too, she ought rather to bear that Name then any of the Elements. To shew further that the Elements are the First Matter, it was alledg'd that they are not transmuted one into another, but are ingenerable and incorruptible; that consequently in every kind of Generation or Corruption there is not made any Substantial Mutation, but only an Ʋnion or Separation of the Elements; And therefore it is not needful to recur to ano∣ther First Matter that may be Permanent under all Mutations, since Entities are not to be multiply'd without necessity. For as to the former, They are not transmuted one into another, because, before the Transmutation, or Substantial Generation of a Thing, Alteration is requisite, that is, the Introduction of Quality and Dispositions sutable to the Form which is to be pro∣duc'd. For Example, before Fire be turn'd into Water, Air, or Earth, it must first receive Cold, Moisture, and Gravity, which are the Qualities sutable to those Formes which it is to re∣ceive; but this is impossible: For Fire, while it is Fire, cannot be Cold, Moist, and Heavy. As for the Second, viz. That the Elements are ingenerable and incorruptible, he shew'd it by this other Example. From Wood that burnes proceed the Four

Elements, or Four different Natures correspondent to them, viz. Flame, Smoke, Liquor, and Ashes, but they were in it before; because they could not be produc'd out of Nothing; And in the Conflagration of this Wood there is onely the Fire that Acts, which being Hot, Light, and Dry, cannot produce such Things as are contrary to it self.

Here Experience was alledg'd against him; which evidenceth that Water upon the Fire is turn'd into Vapour, and then into Air, that Air is turnd into Fire; and so of the other Elements. But he reply'd, That the Water is not turn'd into Vapour, or into Air; but the Fire insinuating and joyning it self with the Water, frames that Vapour, composed Actually of Water and Fire. Whence when you put a Cover upon a Dish of hot Viands, the Particles of Fire which are in those Vapours, being subtle, pass through the Pores of the Cover, and sever themselves from those of the Water; which being unable to pass through too, by reason of their grosness, they adhere to the upper part of it. In like manner, said he, when the Air seemes set on fire, 'tis not chang'd or turn'd into Fire, but onely the Particles of Fire which were dispers'd here and there in the Air, become collected and united together. And when the Fire disappears, it proceeds from its Particles being diffus'd amongst the other Particles of Air, Water, and Earth.

The Last strengthned this Opinion, saying, That the pure Elements have the same Proprieties that are attributed to the First Matter; and (amongst the rest) fall not under the percep∣tion of Sense. Yea, that 'tis as hard to see a pure Element, as to see the First Matter. For the Elementary Fire (ex gr.) cannot be expos'd to the Air, nor the Air to the Water, nor the Water to the Earth, (and much less those which are contrary to one another) without being alter'd by their mutual contract, that is to say, with∣out losing their Nature of Element; which, moreover, cannot be known by the Senses, unless by its Second Qualities; which arising from the mixture of the First, it follows that the Ele∣ments which have no other cannot be the object of our Senses. For the First Qualities would not be perceptible by our Senses, if they lodg'd in a Simple Element. As it appears by the flame of Aqua Vitae, which burnes not by reason of the thinness of its Matter; By Ashes, which while it is making, is more Light then heavy; By the Aire, which dryes instead of moistning, and yet is call'd the First Humid Body; And by Water, which following the qualities of the Neighbouring Bodies, shews that it cannot be term'd of it self either hot or cold.

II. Of Perpetual Motion.

At the Second Hour it was said, That the Perpetual Motion to which this Hour was design'd, is not meant of Motion to Sub∣stance, which is Generation and Corruption, by reason of which Compounded Bodies are in Perpetual Motion; For in Corrupti∣ble Things, every Moment is a degree of Corruption. Nor is it

meant of Motion to Quantity, which is Augmentation and Di∣minution; nor of that which is made to Quality, which is Altera∣tion, but of Local Motion. And again, the Inquiry is not about the possibility of Local Motion in Animals, nor about running-water, or Fire, to whom it is natural; as appears in Mills which are upon Rivers, and Turn-spits, or Engines, which the Smoke causeth to turn about. Wherefore his Invention who exactly fastned a Girdle to his skin, which rising and falling as he took his breath, serv'd for a perpetual spring to a Watch that hung at it, (which by that means needed not winding up) was not the Perpetual Motion which we mean. No more was that which proceeded from the wings of a little Wind-mill, plac'd at the mouth of a Cave, which the Vapour continually issuing forth, caus'd alwayes to move. But it must be in a subject natu∣rally unmoveable, made by Art to continue its Motion: And this is prov'd possible, I. Because, as Hermes saith, That which is below is as that which is above;* 1.4 Now we see above the Perpetual Motion of the Heavenly Bodies, by example of which it is cer∣tain that this Motion must be Circular. In the Second place, Nature hath not given us a desire of Things impossible. Now, an infinite number of good wits shew by their search the desire which they have of it. Thirdly, it is held that Archimedes had it, whence it was feign'd that Jupiter was jealous of him. In the Fourth place, it seems that if a very uniform Circle could be put ex∣actly upon a Pivot or Spindle, and were set in Motion, it would never stop any more then the Heavens, because it doth not poise or gravitate upon its Centre, so long as it is turning, (as it appears by a Stone, which poiseth not in the Circle made on high in turning it round) and so nothing resisting the external Agent, the Motion must last as long as the impression lasteth; and the impression must last alwayes, because nothing resists it; but on the contrary, the Agitation continues it. Thus of all the Models of Engines, contriv'd to move perpetually, we see not one that makes so much as one turn; Whereas a plain wheel makes above a thousand, though it be not exactly plac'd upon its Centre, and the Poles be not two simple points as they ought to be, if that Art could come to perfection; in which Case the effect of Perpetual Motion would follow.

The Second said, That he held it for impossible, for that it is repugnant, not onely as to the Efficient Cause, which being limited and finite cannot produce an infinite Effect; but also as to the very form of that Motion, which must be either Direct, Circular, or Mixt. If it be Direct, it will be made from one term to another, in the one of which its Motion ending, it cannot be perpetual. And because the most certain Principle of this Direct Motion cometh from Gravity, which tendeth from high down∣wards; when it shall be arriv'd there, nothing will be able to mount it up again, Gravity having found its Centre and place; or if the Motion be violent, the impression being ended, it can∣not

re-produce it self of its own accord in the Engine; (other∣wise, it would be animated) and therefore it will cease from Motion. If the Motion be Circular, (as in this effect it would be the most proper in imitation of that of the Heavens) this moving Circle shall be in all parts either of equal, or different weight. If it be equal throughout, it shall not turn at all of it self, one part having no advantage over another; If it be unequal, and there be put (for example) four pound to raise up three, it will happen that when the greatest weight hath gotten the lowest place, the lighter parts will not be able to raise up the heavier; and so the Motion will have an End. Now if the Direct and Circular Moti∣on are incapable of this perpetuity, the mixt or compounded of both shall be so too. So that it seemeth impossible, by reason of the gravity of the matter (not to mention its corruptibility) to compose a Machine or Engine that moves alwayes. And were there any ground to think of it, some have conceiv'd it might be done with the Load-stone, which hath a Virtue of attracting to it self on one side, and driving away on the other, and so by continuing this little Motion (which would be of no great bene∣fit) it might render the same perpetual. But you ordinarily see that they who make these inquiries, onely find rest in their En∣gines and Motion in their brains, whereas they hop'd the contrary.

The Third said, That it appears by that which they call the Roman Balance, that the same weight hang'd neer the Centre, weighes less then when it is more distant from it. Consequently that disposing the weights which shall be round a wheel, so as to be neer the Centre about one half thereof, and distant from it the other half, you shall have a Perpetual Motion, which ought not to be accounted the less such, though the Matter should last but a year, yea but a day; it sufficing for a night to that name, that it lasts as long as its Matter; as 'tis seen in the Vice of Archi∣medes, termed without End, though it be made but of wood; not by reason of its lasting, but because the Vice being apply'd upon an indented wheel, instead of entring into a screw, there is no raising or letting it down, as is practis'd in those of Presses.

He prov'd it further, For that it is seen that by the help of that Vice without End, by the instrument term'd Polyspaston, and others of the like Nature, a Child may easily lift up a weight of 10000 pounds; Yea, even to Infinity, could the strength of the Cordage and the Instruments bear it. For it follows that if a less weight can lift up a greater, this greater will lift up a less; which will be the Perpetual Motion which we inquire after.

The Fourth reply'd, That this Motion seemed to him impos∣sible to find, not for its being unprofitable (for it would be one of the greatest helps that Art could afford Man, to ease him in his labours) but because there is in all Arts some thing of impos∣sibility; as the Quadrature of the Circle in Geometry, in Rheto∣rick the perfect Orator, the Philosophers Stone in Chymistry,

the Common-wealth of Plato in Polity, and in the Mechanicks Perpetual Motion. And whereas it is said that a less weight or less strength can lift up a greater, this is to be understood in more time: So that what is gotten in strength is lost in time; which comes all to one. For Example, one Man, or one hundred weight, shall raise as high in one hour, as much weight as four Men or 400. weights shall raise in a quarter of an hour by any Mechan∣ick Invention whatsoever.

The Last Hour was imployed in the mentioning of some En∣gines which had some likelihood of moving themselves endlesly; And amongst others, it was propos'd, That a Wind-mill ha∣ving a large wing, which the wind should alwayes drive behind, as it doth weather-cocks, and by that means alwayes present its four ordinary sails to the wind, might lift up so weighty a burthen whilst the wind blows, that the same burden coming to descend while the wind ceaseth, would cause a Motion of Con∣tinual Duration. Which also may be more easily practis'd in a Perpetual Fountain, by help of a Great Reservor which should be fill'd by help of the wind, and be emptying it self all the time that it bloweth not.

One Demanded, Whence it cometh that some are inclin'd to Mechanicks, others onely to Contemplation and Literature. It was answer'd, that this proceeds from the Resemblance which their Mind hath with the Things which they affect. The time being past for this Conference, this Question afforded the Sub∣ject to the next, for the first point concerning Resemblance, and chiefly that of kinred one to another; And for the Second, Whe∣ther Letters ought to be joyn'd with Armes.

CONFERENCE V.

I. Of Resemblance. II. Whether it behoveth to joyn Armes to Letters.

I. Of Resem∣blance.

UPon the First, It was said, That there are Three Sorts of Resemblance, viz. Of Species, of Sex, and of Aspect. The Resemblance of Species comes from the Univocal Cause deter∣mined to produce an Effect like to it self. That of Sex comes from the Predominancy either of the Masculine or Feminine Geniture, or from the weakness of both: The End of Nature being alwayes to make a perfect work, viz. a Male; to which if she cannot attain, she maketh a Female. The Resemblance of Aspect, (or individual) which is that we are speaking of, comes from the Formative Virtue inherent in the Geniture, which being like a Quintessence or Extract not onely of all the parts which contribute to its Generation, but also of the Spirits which accom∣pany, move and inform it in some manner; it is not to be won∣der'd

if what is produc'd thereof bear their image and likeness, as the Visible Species representeth the luminous or coloured Thing from whence it proceedeth. To which if the Imagination also concur, it sends still to the Faetus more Spirits then there were before; which being the Principal Artificers in Formation, imprint a shape or figure upon it like the Body from whence they streamed, and of which themselves partake in some sort; As the Water which issueth out of Pipes, though it spout far, retaineth the form thereof. The strength of which Imagination is too great to doubt of; being such as it is able to change the colour of a Child, and to cause some to be born all hairy, by the sight of the like Objects: Of which the marks which are imprint∣ed on the Bodies of Infants in the womb of their Mothers, through some such Imagination are sufficient proofs, and that in Brutes too.

The Second said, That indeed this is an Effect of the Imagina∣tion, seeing Galen having caus'd the picture of a white Child to be hang'd at the beds-feet of a Moor-Lady, she brought forth a Child of the same colour. And besides the Example of La∣han's sheep, which brought forth streaked young, by reason of the Rods of that colour plac'd in their drinking-troughs; Ex∣perience of Hens, who bring forth white Chickens if they be co∣ver'd with Linnen while they brood, verifieth the same. The way that that Faculty produceth such an Effect is thus. The Animal Spirits which reside in the Brain slide thence into the whole Body, but especially into the Matrice, by reason of the near Sympathy which is between them by the Nerves of the Sixth Conjugation which unite them, and render Women sub∣ject to so many several accidents, whereof the field of Nature is too fertile. The Spirits then imprinting their qualities into that solid part, it serves as a mould for the forming of the tender Embryo. Which is not to be understood of Simple Imagination, but of those upon which the Mind maketh a vehement and con∣stant reflexion.

The Third said, That if the Imagination contributed any Thing to the Resemblance, we should see no unhandsome Children. For could a Man beget what he would, he would alwayes make it resemble some fair Idea in his Imagination. Besides, this Faculty can have no influence, saving at the mo∣ment of the Act, or during the bearing. Not in the former, for nothing acts upon that which is not. Now the Parts exist not yet during that Act. Not the latter, for the parts are then already form'd. It will then be demanded in what time of the bearing this Imagination hath power. If it be said in the former part, it is held that the parts expos'd to our view are not then form'd, and yet 'tis in those that Resemblance is ob∣serv'd: But in those first dayes onely the Principal pars, viz. The Liver, the Heart, and the Brain are form'd. If you will have it to be in the latter dayes, the Soul being by that time introduc'd,

which is its true form, and imprints upon the body the traces of the Inclinations, it cannot thence forward be susceptible of alterati∣ons by a meer fancy. Now that the manners of the Soul follow the External Form of the Body, appears by Physiogmony wholly founded upon that Principle.

The Fourth argued that the Geniture is the superfluous ali∣ment of the Third Concoction, which proceeding from all the parts of the Body retaines the Characters of the same, and imprints them upon the Body of the Embryo; And hence come hereditary diseases, as also the usual Resemblance of Twins: And such is the Law of Nature, that Children resemble their Fathers and Mothers just as Plants do the Plants which produce them. As for the unlikness, it comes usually from the diver∣sity of the Genitures of Father and Mother, which make a Third Temperament; as of the colours yellow and blew mingled to∣gether is made a green.

The Fifth attributed the Cause to the divers Constellations; because seeing all the alterations which happen here below can∣not, said he, proceed but from Heaven or the Elements, there is no probability in attributing them to these latter; otherwise they would be both Agents and Patients together: And besides, if the Elements were the Efficient Cause of the Mutations which come to pass in Nature, there would be nothing regular, by rea∣son of their continual Generation and Corruption. Wherefore 'tis to the Heavens that it ought to be ascrib'd: And as the same Let∣ters put together in the same order make alwayes the same word; So, as often as the principal Planets meet in the same Aspect, and the same Coelestial Configuration, the Men that are born under such Constellations, are found alike. Nor is it material to say, (though 'tis true) that the Heavenly Bodies are never twice in the same scituation; because if this should happen, it would not be Resemblance longer, but Identity, such as Plato promised in his great Revolution after six and forty thousand years. Besides, there is no one so like to another, but there is alwayes found more difference then conformity.

The Sixth affirm'd, That the same Cause which produceth the likeness of Bodies is also that which rendreth the inclinations of Souls alike, seeing the one is the Index of the other. Thus we see oftimes the manners of Children so expresly imitate those of their Parents of both Sexes, that the same may be more right∣fully alledged for an Argument of their Legitimacy, then the External Resemblance alone, which consists onely in colour and figure. This makes it doubtful whether we may attribute that Resemblance to the Formative Virtue: Otherwise, being con∣nex'd as they are, it would be to assign an Immaterial Effect (as all the operations of the Rational Soul are) to a Material Cause.

The Seventh ascrib'd it to the sole vigour or weakness of the Formative Virtue, which is nothing else but the Spirits inherent

in the Geniture, and constituting the more pure part of it; The rest serving those Spirits for Matter, upon which they act for the organizing it, and framing a Body thereof. Now every Individual proposing to himself to make his like, he arrives to his End when the Matter is suted and possess'd with an Active Virtue sufficiently vigorous; and then this likeness will be not onely according to the Specifical Nature and the Essence, but also according to the Individual Nature, and the Accidents which accompany the same. This seems, perhaps, manifest enough in that First Degree of Children to Fathers; but the difficulty is not small, how a later Son that hath no Features of his Fathers Countenance comes to resemble his Grand-father or Great Grand-father. The Cause, in my Judgement, may be assign'd thus. Though the Geniture of the Ancestor was provided with sufficient Spirits to form a Son like himself, yet it met with a Feminine Geniture abounding with qualities contrary to its own, which infring'd its formative vertue, and check'd the Action thereof, hindring the Exuberance of its Spirits from attaining to frame such lineaments of the Countenance as Nature intended: or else it met with a Matrice out of due temper by some casual cold, though otherwise both the Genitures were laudably elaborated. For when those Spirits, or Formative Virtue, become chil'd and num'd, they shrink and retire into their mass; as he that is cold to his bed; and wanting heat, in which their Activity consists, they remain in a manner buried, and without Action, in reference to this Resemblance: And nevertheless there is left enough to make a Male like to the Father, as to the species. This Son thus form'd comes to Age to Generate, and meeting with a Feminine Geniture proportion'd to his own in vigour and strength, and a Matrice proper to receive them, those Spirits of his Father, which till then lay dormant, are awaken'd to Action; and con∣curring from all parts of the Body suddenly impregnate the Ge∣niture of the Immediate Father, having by their long residence in the corporeal mass been recruited, refined, and elaborated: And as old Wine surpasseth new in strength and vigour of Spirits, because it hath less Phlegme; so those Spirits of the Grand-father having digested all the superfluous Phlegm wherewith those of the Father abound, are more strong then they, and win posses∣sion in the Geniture, for the forming and organizing of it ac∣cording to the shape of the Body from whence they first issued.

The Eighth said, That he was very backward to believe that any Thing of our Great Grand-fathers remaineth in us, seeing it is doubted, upon probable grounds, whether there remaineth in our Old Age any thing of our Child-hood; and that the Body of Man, by the continual deperdition of its Three-fold Sub∣stance, Spirits, Humours, and solid parts, is like the ship Argo, which by the successive addition of new matter was the same, and not the same. That he conceiv'd not yet how the Geniture can proceed from all the parts; seeing Anatomy teacheth us,

that the Spermatick Veines derive it immediately from the Trunk of the Hollow Vein (Vena Cava) and the Emulgent; and the Arteries from the great Artery, (Aorta) conveying it to be elaborated in the Glandules call'd Prostatae; from whence it is set on work by Nature. The solid Parts can have no Influence upon it; for what humour or juice is brought to them for their nourishment goeth not away naturally but by sweat, insensible transpiration, and the production of hair. The Spirits are too subtle and dissipable to preserve in themselves a Character, and imprint the same upon any Subject. That Resemblance, in my Judgement, proceedeth from the natural heat which elaborateth and delineateth the Body of the Geniture, and by it the Em∣bryo; First with the general Idea of its species, and then with the accidents which it hath, and which it borroweth from the Matrice, from the menstruous blood, and the other Circumstan∣ces requisite to Generation; and when chance pleaseth, there is found a likeness to the Father, Mother, or others. Which Cir∣cumstances being alike in the Formation of Twinns, cause them to resemble one another; unless when the Particles of the Geni∣ture (which is sufficient for two) are of unlike Natures, and are unequally sever'd by the natural heat: So that (for Example) the milder and more temperate Particles are shar'd on one side; and on the other, the more rough and bilious; As it hapned in Jacob and Esau, the former of whom was of a sweet, and the other of a savage humour, and then Bodies as different as their Man∣ners. One the contrary, many resemble one another in Coun∣tenance, who are nothing at all related; as Augustus and that young Man, who being ask'd by the Emperour whether his Mother had never been at Rome, answer'd, No, but his Father had; And the true and false Martin Guerre, who put a Parlia∣ment, their Wife, and all their kinred, to a hard task to distinguish them.

II. Whether Let∣ters ought to be joyned with Armes.

The Second Hour, design'd for treating of the Conjunction of Armes and Letters, began with this discourse. That Armes seem not onely unprofitable, but contrary to humanity, since their End is the destruction of Man. That among the rest, the Gun, invented by a Monk nam'd Bertol, in the year 1380. hath caus'd the death of too many persons, not to be in horrour to the living; from which the most valiant cannot secure himself: And if they be compar'd to the studies of humanity, they are so far distant from them, that the Beginning of the one is the End of the other; The clashing of Armes, as Sylla said, hindring atten∣ion to Lawes. And comparing them together, that French Her∣cules who drew men to him with chains of Gold, subdu'd them much better, winning their Bodies and their Hearts, then that other subduer of Monsters whose victory extended but to the one half. That Archimedes defending Syracuse by his skill against the Army of Marcellus, seemes to void the Question. But on

the other side, since the point of Wit wins not the Victory now a dayes, unless it be joyn'd with that of the Sword; And that, on the contrary, Armes command over all; it is certain that a City full of Philosophers, that knew not how to help themselves with Armes, would be taken by a Regiment of Souldiers igno∣rant of Letters; and that of all the Lawes there is none more peremptory then the Gun: Which is signifi'd by that Devise which our Cannons of the new casting have graven upon them, Ratio ultima Regum. Moreover, we see that the Turks (whose Political Maximes are as good for the preservation and increa∣sing of their Empire, as their Religion is bad for the attaining to that of Heaven) excepting what little needs to instruct the few Fryers they have in their Mosquees, and less the Judges in their Tribunals, scorn all Learning, and teach their people no other Science but Obedience and Contempt of Death. While the Greeks and the Romans did the same each of them got and kept a Monarchy: As on the contrary, their declining hapned when their skilfulness in all Sciences was risen to the highest point: Having ceas'd to do well, when they addicted themselves too much to speak well. So greatly doth Literature intenerate and soften Hearts, effeminating those that apply themselves thereto; whether by their Charm, or by the too great dissipa∣tion of Spirits requir'd by the assiduity of Study and Contempla∣tion; which almost draws the Soul out of the Body, and nota∣bly weakneth its ordinary functions. Whence it comes to pass that studious Men have not onely their Sight and all other Senses, but also the Members of their Body, more weak, how good soever their natural temper be; which is strengthened by the exercise to which they are oblig'd who practise other Arts, and especially that of War, an Enemy to Sedentary Life. Nevertheless coming to consider the Advantages which Alexander drew from the pre∣cepts of Aristotle; Caesar from his own Eloquence and the Mathe∣maticks, for the making of Speeches to his Souldiers, building of Bridges, and besieging of places; That without Astrology, which inabled Christopher Columbus to foresee an Eclipse of the Moon, in the year 1492. whereof he made use to frighten the Americans extremely, his Enterprize had perish'd: In brief, that that brave King of Sweden, Conquerour during his Life and after his Death, so happily joyned Letters to Armes; I con∣clude for their Conjunction, authoriz'd by that excellent Sen∣tence, That the Nations are happy whose Philosophers are Kings, or whose Kings are Philosophers; and confirm'd by the Example which the admirable Government of this Kingdom affordeth.

The Next said, That if it behoveth to marry the Sciences to Armes, it must be because Learning maketh the Souldier either more honest, or more valiant and couragious, or more dextrous and warlike. Now they have none of these Effects; not the former; For, on the contrary, the most favourable Sentence that can be pass'd upon Learning, is, to say that it is neither good

nor bad of it self, but leaves the Will of the possessor in the same posture that it found it. The most moderate Detractors alledge that Knowledge puffeth up; Now Presumption conduceth not much to the Amendment of Life. Others go so far as to main∣tain, That Simplicity and sweetness of Manners is not found usually with great Learning; according to that Sentence which the Company will permit me to alledge in its own Language, Postquam docti prodierunt boni desunt. Moreover S. Paul dis∣swades us as much as possible from Philosophy, which he calls vain, adding that such as would know too much must be re∣jected from the Church: And as the Shoo-makers are commonly the worst shod, and the richest the most covetous; so they that know the most good are willing to do the least. Now if this be true in persons of the highest form, is it to be hop'd that a Souldier whose inclinations are usually not too devout, should become an honester Man after he has studied? But besides, he will become as little valiant and couragious thereby; Reason requiring, that the more a Man knows dangers and inconveni∣ences, the more shy and backward he is to venture amongst them; And Experience shewing that the softness of studies is incompatible with the warlike ardour and martial humour. Of which Marius, and other Roman Captains, not ignorant (no more then those at present) did not go to the Schooles to choose their Souldiers, but into the Shops and Villages: Which caus'd Licinius and Valentinian, Emperours of Rome, to say, That their State had no Poyson more dangerous then Learning. The Greeks by being too much addicted thereunto, were easily sub∣du'd by the Goths, who understood nothing but to kill and burn; and yet were not so ignorant as to take from the Greeks, overcome by them, the use of Learning: for fear lest coming to themselves they might easily shake off their yoke. They left them their Libraries entire, to continue their exercise therein peaceably. So long as the Spartans flourish'd, they had no other Academies but of Valour, Prudence, and Justice. The Persians had no other Schooles but the practice of Vertue, whereof onely the name and definition is known in ours, which afford nothing but unprofitable tattle. Lastly, Study, as 'tis vulgarly practis'd at this day, instead of rendring a Man better behav'd, imprints upon him the manners of the Colledge, insupportable to all the world, and rendring the name of Scholar odious. Few people have less discretion then they; most beggars ask Almes in Latine; and this Language is more common to Bedlam then to any other place.

The multitude and earnestness of those who vigorously main∣tain'd the Cause of Learning, hindred the distinct Recollection of all their Reasons; but they may be reduc'd to these. Armes de∣stitute of Letters, have more of the Brute then of the Man: the ignorance of danger not deserving the Name of Valour, but that onely which sees the danger, and despises it in comparison of the

honour which it expects from victory. What a glory would be ad∣ded to the Gown, if, in imitation of those brave Roman Consuls and Senatours, a President or Counsellor were seen carrying the Flower de Luce beyond our Frontiers in the head of an Army, and the other Officers by their Example? Armes making Laws respected, and Laws polishing Armes.

The Inventions were very different, yea, diametrically oppo∣site; one amongst the rest propounding a way to build an impreg∣nable Fortress, another an Engine to which nothing could re∣sist: And the Matters of the next Conference were the Ʋniver∣sal Spirit and Fire.

CONFERENCE VI.

I. Of Fire. II. Of the Ʋniversal Spirit.

I. Of Fire.

UPon the First Subject it was said, That there is no Elemen∣tary Fire, and that this Opinion doth not destroy the Four First Qualities; Seeing Heat may be without that Fire, as in the Sun. Moreover, that supposed Elementary Fire cannot be under the Moon. For if it were, the Refraction, or Parallax caused by it, would cause the Stars to be seen in another place then they are, and of different Magnitudes; As the Opticks clearly demonstrate to us, and justifie by the experiment of a piece of Money put into a Basin, which we behold not, by reason of the interposition of its sides; and yet it appears when you put water into the Vessel: Because the Vi∣sual Ray is alwayes broken, and makes an Angle when it passeth through a Medium of differing thickness, as the Air and the Water are; and as the Air and the Fire would be, through which the Stars must be seen; and consequently we should not see them in their true place, when they are out of our Zenith; in which alone the Visual Ray is not broken. But this the Pre∣diction of Eclipses to a set moment, convinceth to be false. In the Third Place, That Fire, being but an Accident cannot be an Element. That it is but an Accident, appears by a combustible Body; in which, for the kindling of Fire, there is nothing else introduc'd but a great heat. In the Fourth Place, This same Fire being produc'd by an Accident, as by the Motion of some Body, cannot be a Substance; For Accidents do not produce Substances. Lastly, we are compos'd of the same Things by which we are conserv'd, and yet there is no Animal that lives of Fire, as of the other Elements; that which is said of the Flies called Pyraustae being but a Fable. Besides, 'Tis hard to conceive how Fire being in that High Region could concur to all kinds of Generation. And therefore, if there be any Fire that enters into the Composition of mixt Bodies, 'tis

onely the heat of the Sun which quickens and animates all things.

As for our common Fire, they say it is light and dry. But for the former, as they do not prove it but by the Sight, which beholds it ascend; so the same Sight sees it descend in a Candle, in Wood, and other Matters, which the Fire consumes from the top to the bottom: And therefore of it self it is indifferent to all Motion, and follows its Aliment upwards, when it mounts thither by its rarefaction, and downwards when the same is detain'd there by the gravity of its Matter. And though it should ascend above the Air, yet would it not follow from thence that it is light, but onely less ponderous then the Air which thrust it out of its place; as the Earth doth the Water, and the Water the Air. Besides, whereas the Fire imparteth ponderosity, as is seen in Calcined Lead, it cannot be said to be Light. Next, to say that Fire is dry, I account not less strange. For it cannot have Siccity, since it introduceth it not actually into Bodies; but when it drieth any humid Body it doth nothing else but take away its humidity, which being separated from that Body, it remains in the Siccity which was there before, (but appeared not by reason of the predominancy of its humidity;) and consequently is not introduc'd anew by the Fire. Besides, by the definition which Aristotle gives of Humid, (viz. That it is that which is easily con∣taind'n in an other, but hardly in it self,) the Fire should be more humid then the Air, yea, then water it self.

The Second said, That Fire is neither Element nor Substance. For Qualities are perceiv'd by every Thing's manifesting those of the Element predominant in it, and whereof it is compos'd. Terrestrial Bodies, as Stones, Metals, and Minerals, are actually cold and dry to the touch. Aquatick, as Fish and Fruits, are cold and moist. Aerial, as Oyle and Wood, indifferent, some∣times hot, sometimes cold, according to the disposition of the place where they are. Animals alone are actually hot, but they derive that heat solely from the Soul. We see nothing in the World actually hot of its own Nature. Why then should we establish an Element, of which we can have no tidings? As we have of the other Elements, of which some would make it a com∣panion; contrary to the Maxime, which alloweth not, That Entities be multiply'd in Nature without Necessity. 'Tis of no va∣lidity to object the actual heat of Mineral Waters. For the least Curious know the cause thereof to be this; that those Waters passing through Mines of Sulphur or Bitumen, imbibe the Spirits thereof; which by the Motion of the Water are heated acci∣dentally: As appears in that being taken out of their own place, they presently lose that heat; which shews that this heat is no part of them, but is derived elsewhere. Moreover that Sublu∣nary Fire would be to no purpose. For either it would descend to enter into the composition of Things with the rest, or not. If it descend, that is against its Nature, which is (as they com∣monly say) light, and alwayes tending upwards; besides

it would consume all by its great Activity. If it de∣scend not, it would be unprofitable to the World, and so not Element. For neither Man, nor the other mixt Substances which are generated, go to seek it in the Circle of the Moon. Besides, Generations are made without it by the heat of the Sun. For, in the First Place, Humidity is requisite thereto, for the uniting and binding together of the Matter, which otherwise would be dust; and that Humidity the Air or the Water afford∣eth. In the Second Place, such Matter, united by Humidity, is made close, firm, and compact, by the coldness of Water, the propriety of which is to congeal. In the Third Place, the driness which the Earth contributes gives it a consistence and permanent hardness; And, lastly, the heat alone of the Sun digests all this together, and unites it very perfectly with∣out need of any other Fire. I confess, indeed, that we have Fire, but it never enters into the composition of Natural Things; nor ever was it a Substance, because Two Substantial Formes cannot be in the same Subject; and yet the true form of Fire is in a hot Iron, together with the Substantial Form of the Iron: Which shews that Fire is but an Accidental Form, which is consistent with the Substantial, as the Servant with her Mistress. Moreo∣ver (according to Aristotle, l. 2. Of Generation and Corruption.) Fire is nothing else but an execess of heat, which is a meer Acci∣dent, as well in its little degrees, as in its excesses; More and less making no change in the species. Our Fire then is an exces∣sive heat, which adheres to Things that have some crass and olea∣ginous humour in them, and continues there by a continual ef∣flux and successive Generation, without any permanence, like the Water of a River; which Heat lasts so long till that humour be consumed. If it be said that it ascends upwards seeking its own place, I answer, that 'tis the Exhalation that carries it up; yea, that it descends too; as we see in a Candle blown out, and still smoaking, if it be held beneath another burning one, the flame descendeth along the smoak, and lighteth it again▪ So that the Fire is indifferent of it self where it goes, for it lets it self be govern'd and carry'd by the Exhalation. And it appears further, That Fire is less subtile then Air; for flame is not transpa∣rent, and it engendreth soot, which is very gross.

The Third added, That indeed Fire cannot be a Substance, because it hath a Contrary, viz. The Water. Besides, every Substantial Form preserves its own Matter, and acts not against it; but Fire destroyes its own. Moreover, a certain degree of some Quality is never necessary to a Substantial Form; as the Earth ceaseth not to be Earth, though it be less cold or dry; and so of the rest: But Fire cannot be Fire, unless the supreme degree of heat be in it. Add hereunto, that Fire may be produc'd in a Substance without corrupting it, as we see in a Flint, or a burning Bullet: Now a Substantial Form is not produc'd in a Subject, till the preceding be destroy'd; the Generation of the

one being the corruption of the other. Lastly, Every sub∣stance produceth, by way of Generation, an indivisible substantial Form; But Fire produceth a divisible Quality: For that which was cold becometh first warm, then hot, and by degrees be∣cometh Fire; which cannot be with a mixture of cold, non consist therewith, unless as degrees of qualities.

The Fourth said, That Fire is a most perfect Element, hot and dry; according to Aristotle, of the most perfect form and activity of all the Elements; according to Plato, the principal in∣strument of Nature; according to Empedocles, the Father of Things. Whence it was that the Assyrians ador'd it. The Persians carry'd it out of Honour before their Kings, and at the head of their Armies. The Romans made so great account of it, that they assign'd it to the care of certain Virgins to be kept immortal. Pythagoras believ'd it to be an Animal, because it is nourish'd as Animals, and for want of Aliment dyes; And be∣cause a lighted Torch being cast into the Water, the Fire extin∣guishing, sendeth forth such a noyse as Animals do at the gasps of Death. But he esteemed its natural place to be the Centre of the Subterranean World. Whence it is (said he) that we see so many Volcanoes, and other Fires issue out of the entrals of the Earth; as those of Monte Vesuvio, in the Kingdom of Naples, Monte Gibello, (formerly Aetna) in Sicily, and Monte Hecla in Ise∣land, and so many other burning Mountains.

The Fifth said, That as the Sea is the Principle from whence all the Waters come, and the end whether they return; So the Sun is the Element of Fire, from whence all other Fires come, and whether at length they reascend as to their Source. 1. For that all Effects, Qualities, and Properties of Fire, agree particu∣larly to the Sun; seeing he heats, burnes, dryes, and is the cause of all the Generations that are made here below. 2. Be∣cause the Elements stay in their natural places. Now the Fire not onely ascendeth from the Subterraneous places where it is detain'd, by reason of a sulphureous and bituminous Matter which serves it for food, but it passeth also beyond the Heavens of the Moon, Mercury and Venus, as appears by Comets which are igneous, and particularly by that which appear'd in the year 1618. acknowledg'd by all the Astronomers, upon the reasons of Opticks, to have been above the said places.

The Sixth denyed, That the Sun can be the Element of Fire. 1. Because 'tis a Coelestial and Incorruptible Body, and by consequence not Igneous or Elementary. 2. If all Fires come from the Sun, it will follow that all his rayes are Igneous Bodies; for there cannot be imagin'd other Fires to come from the Sun hither, but his beams. Now the Sun-beams are neither Bodies nor Igneous. Not Bodies, since Illumination and Eradiation being made in an instant, it will follow that a Body cometh from Heaven to Earth in a Moment: Which is absurd, because No Motion is made in an instant. Besides, being those Rayes penetrate

Glass, and such other solid and diaphanous Bodies, there would be a penetration of Dimensions, which is impossible. Nor are they Igneous, seeing Fire being of its own nature light, descendeth not; but the beams of the Sun descend down hither. Moreover, Fire is actually hot, but the Sun-beams are onely so in power, viz. when they are reflected by an opake body; as appears in the Middle Region of the Air, where it is colder then upon the Earth, though its beams are nearer. Wherefore it is more reasonable to hold to the common opinion, which placeth the Fire immediately under the Heaven of the Moon. For there is no fear, that that Fire, how great soever, can burn the World, its hear being allay'd and dull'd by the extreme humidity of the Air its Neighbour, and by the great coldness of the same Air, which is in the Middle Region; and counter-checketh that heat, which on one side hath already lost its violence and acrimony by its natural Rarity. Nor is there any trouble to be taken for its nourishment; for being in its own Centre and Empire it hath no enemies nor con∣traries, and needeth no food for its support, as our common Fire doth. What if we behold it not? 'Tis not because there is none, but because it is so rare and so pure that it cannot fall within the perception of our Senses: As there is such a thing as Air, though we see it not. How many Colours, Odours, Sapours, and Sounds are there which we never knew? And as for what is ob∣serv'd in a Candle newly put out, it is clear that the Fire descend∣eth not to it, but inflameth the unctuous Matter which it touch∣eth, and this the next, even to the Candle from whence that Matter proceedeth.

II Of the Ʋni∣versal Spirit.

Upon the Second Point, it was said, That it must First be known what is meant by Universal Spirit. 2. Whether there be one. 3. What it is. As for the First, By the word Univer∣sal Spirit, is understood some universal cause and principle of all the actions and motions which are made in Generation. Just as they assign one same First Matter, for the Subject of all Formes, so they speak of an Ʋniversal Form, which containes all the rest in it self, and causes them to act and move in the Matter rightly dispos'd.

As for the Second, Like as they argue, that the world is finite, round, and corruptible, because its parts are so; So also it may be said that the world hath a Spirit which enlivens it, since all its principal parts have a particular one for their Conservation, Action, and Motion; the parts being of the same Nature with the whole. This Universal Spirit is prov'd by the impotency of the Matter, which of it self having no activity or principle of Life and Motion, needeth some other to animate and quicken it. Now particular Forms cannot do that, for then they would be principles of that Virtue, that is to say, principles of them∣selves, which is impossible. Wherefore there must be some Superiour Form, which is the Universal Spirit, the principle of

Action and Motion, the Uniter of the Matter and the Form, the Life of all Nature, and the Universal Soul of the World. Whence it may confidently be affirm'd, that the World is animated; but with what Soul or Spirit is the difficulty. For if we prove by Local Motion, or by that of Generation, that a Plant or Animal are animated, why may we not say the same of all the World, since its more noble and principal parts afford evi∣dence thereof? As for the Heaven and the Stars, they are in continual Motion, which the more ••ober Opinion at this day confesseth to produce from their Internal Form, rather then from the Intelligences which some would have fastned to the Spheres, as a Potter to his wheel. The Sun, besides his own Motion, which some call in controversie, gives Life to all things by his heat and influences. The Air, Water, and Earth, afford also instances of this Life in the production and nourishing of Plants and Animals. Thus the principal parts being animated, this sufficeth for the Denomination of the whole; seeing even in Man there are found some parts not animated, as the Hair and the Nails.

As for the Last Point, which is to know what this Universal Soul is, there are many Opinions. The Rabbins and Cabalists say that it is the RƲAH ELOHIM, that is, the Spirit of God which moved upon Waters. Trismegistus saith, that it is a Corpo∣real Spirit, or a Spiritual Body; and elsewhere calleth it the Blessed GreenWood, or the Green Lyon, which causeth all things to grow. Plato affirmeth it to be the Ideas; The Peripateticks, a certain Quintessence above the Four Elements. Heraclitus, and after him the Chymists, that it is a certain Aethereal Fire. For my part, I conceive, that if by this Spirit they mean a thing which gives Life, and Spirit, and Motion to all, which is found every where, and on which all depends, there is no doubt but 'tis the Spirit of God; or rather God himself, in whom and through whom we live and move. But if we will seek another in created Nature, we must not seek it elsewhere then in that corporeal creature which hath most resemblance with the Deity; The Sun, who more lively represents the same then any other, by his Light, Heat, Figure, and Power. And therefore the Sun is that Spirit of the World, which causeth to move and act here below all that hath Life and Motion.

The Second said, That that Soul is a certain common Form diffus'd through all things which are moved by it; as the wind of the Bellows maketh the Organs to play, applying them to that whereunto they are proper, and according to their natural con∣dition. So this Spirit with the Matter of Fire maketh Fire, with that of Air maketh Air, and so of the rest. Some give it the name of Love, for that it serves as a link or tye between all Bo∣dies, into which it insinuates it self with incredible Subtility; which Opinion will not be rejected by the Poets and the Amorous, who attribute so great power to it.

The Third said, That the Soul being the First Act of an Or∣ganical Body, and the word Life being taken onely for Vegeta∣tion, Sensation, and Ratiocination, the world cannot be ani∣mated; since the Heavens, the Elements, and the greatest part of Mixed Bodies want such a Soul and such Life. That the Stoicks never attributed a Soul to this world, but onely a Body, which by reason of its Subtility is called Spirit; and for that it is expanded through all the parts of the world, is termed Ʋniver∣sal, which is the cause of all Motions, and is the same thing with what the Ancients call'd Nature, which they defined the Princi∣ple of Motion. The reason of the Stoicks, for this Universal Spirit, is drawn from the Rarefaction and Condensation of Bodies. For if Rarefaction be made by the insinuation of an other subtile Body, and Condensation by its pressing out, it follows that since all the Elements and mixt Bodies are rarifi'd and condens'd, there is some Body more subtile then those Elements and mixts, which in∣sinuating it self into the parts rarifies them and makes them take up greater space; and going forth is the Cause that they close together, and take up less. Now Rarefaction is alwayes made by the entrance of a more subtile Body, and Condensation by its going out. This is seen in a very thick Vessel of Iron or Brass, which being fill'd with hot Water, or heated Air, and being well stop'd, if you set it into the cold, it will condense what is contain'd therein, which by that means must fill less space then before: Now either there must be a Vacuum in the Vessel, which Nature abhorreth, or some subtile Body must enter into it, which comes out of the Air or the Water which fills that space; Which Body also must be more subtile then the Elements which cannot penetrate through the thickness of the Vessel. There is also seen an Instance of this in the Sun-beams, which penetrate the most solid Bodies, if they be never so little diapha∣nous, which yet are impenetrable by any Element how subtile soever.

And because a great part of the Hour design'd for Inventions was found to have slip'd away, during the Reciprocation of other reasons brought for and against this opinion; some curiosities were onely mention'd, and the examination of them referr'd to the next Conference. In which it was determin'd, first to treat of the Air, and then to debate that Question, Whether it is expedient in a State to have Slaves.

CONFERENCE VII.

I. Of the Air. II. Whether it be best for a State to have Slaves.

I. Of the Air.

THe First said, That he thought fit to step aside a little out of the ordinary way, not so much to impugne the Maximes of the School, as to clear them; and that for this end he propros'd, That the Air is not distinguish'd from the Water, because they are chang'd one into the other. For what else are those Vapours which are drawn up from the Water by the power of the Sun, and those which arise in an Alembic, or from boyling Water, if we do not call them Air? Now those Vapours are nothing but Water rarifi'd and subtiliz'd by heat; as also when they are reduc'd into Water by condensation, this Water is nothing but Air condens'd: And so Air and Water differ not but by Rarefaction and Condensation, which are but Acci∣dent; and consequently cannot make different species of Ele∣ment. Both the one and the other may be seen in the Aeolipila of Vitruvius, out of which the heat of Fire causeth the Water which is therein to issue in the form of Air and an impetuous wind; which is the very Image of that which Nature ordinarily doth. I conceive also that the Air is neither hot, nor moist, nor light, as Philosophers commonly hold. For as to the First, the Air is much more cold then hot, and for one torrid Zone there are two cold. Besides, Heat is but Accidental to it, being caus'd by the incidence and reflections of the rayes of the Sun; So that this cause failing in the night, when the Sun shines not; or in Winter when its rayes are very oblique, and their reflection weak; or in the Middle Region, whether the Reflection reach∣eth not, the Air becometh cold, and consequently in its natu∣ral quality, since there is no External Cause that produceth that coldness. As for the Second, The Air dryeth more then it moistneth; and if it moistneth, it is when it is cold and conden∣sed, and consequently mix'd with many particles of Water; and when it dryeth, it is by its own heat. For the Definition which Aristotle giveth of Humid and Moist, is onely proper to every thing which is fluid and not stable, and in this respect agrees to the Air which is fluid, and gives way to all sorts of Bodies. As for the Last, which is its levity, the harmony of the world by which all things conspire to union, and so to one common Centre, seemeth to contradict it. For if the Air hath its Motion from the Centre, the parts of the world might be disunited; For the Air would escape away, there being no restraint upon it by any External Surface. Moreover, if we judge the Air light because we see it mount above water, we must also say that Wax and Oyle are light, since we observe the same in them. But

that which they do is not mounting above the Water, but be∣ing repell'd by the Water: And so the principal of Motion being External, the same is violent and not natural. Whereas when the Air descends into the Well, it descends thither naturally, there being no External Cause of that descent. For Vacuum, not ex∣isting in Nature, cannot produce this Effect; Since, according to the received Maxime, Of a Thing which is not there can be no Actions. Besides it would be it self-cause of its own destruction, and do contrary to its own intention, preserving Nature by this Action; whereas it is an Enemy to it, and seeketh the ruine there∣of. Lastly, Since many Particles of Air being condens'd and press'd together, give ponderosity to a thing, as is seen in a Baloon or foot-ball, it must needs be ponderous it self; for many light Bodies joyn'd together are more light.

The Second said, That the difference between Water and Air is as clear as either of those Elements; For that the Vapours which arise from the Water by means of the Suns heat, and the wind which issueth out of the abovesaid Vessel full of Water, and placed upon the Fire, cannot be call'd Air, saving abusively: But they are mixts, actually compos'd of Water and Fire. For the rayes of the Sun entring into the Water, raise it into Vapour; And the Fire infinuating it self by the Pores of the Vessel into the Water which it containeth, causeth the same to come forth in the form of wind, which is compos'd of Fire and Water; Of Fire, because the property of Fire being to mount on high, it lifts up that subtiliz'd Water with it self; Of Water, because this Vapour hath some coldness and humidity; whence meeting with a solid Body it is resolv'd into Water, because the Fire alone passeth through the Pores of that Body. Besides, Water being moist, and Air on the contrary dry, as the precedent opinion importeth, they cannot be the same thing. And since all Alte∣ration is made between two different things, Water and Air, transmuting one into another, as it hath been said, cannot be the same. Lastly, as there are two Elements, whereof one is ab∣solutely light, as the Fire, the other absolutely heavy, as the Earth; So there are two which are such, but in comparison with the rest. The Water compar'd with the Earth is light, because it floateth above it: The Air in comparison of the Water is light too, because it is above it. So that when it descendeth lower then the Water into the Caverns of the Earth, 'tis Nature that obligeth it to renounce its proper and particular interest for preserving the general one, which is destroy'd by the Vacuum; not that the Vacuum is the Cause thereof, for it hath no existence. And the Air wherewith the Baloon is fill'd rendreth the same more heavy, because it is impure and mixt with gross Vapours; Which it would not do, were it pure and Elementary, such as is that of which we are speaking, which is not to be found in our Region. The Common Opinion hath also more probability, which holdeth that the Air is hot and moist; Hot, because it is

rare and light, which are effects of heat; Moist because it is dif∣ficultly contain'd within its own bounds, and easily within those of another; Thence it is that the more Bodies partake of Air, the more they have of those qualities; As we see in Oyl, which is hot, being easily set on flame; And Moist, in that it greatly humecteth, and easily expandeth it self on all sides. But if the Air seemes sometimes to be cold, 'tis by accident, by reason of the cold vapours wherewith it is fill'd at that time.

The Third said, That he conceiv'd that contrarily the Air is cold and dry. 1. Because it freezeth the Earth and Water in Winter, and therefore is colder in either of them. 2. Because it refresheth the Lungs, and by its coolness tempereth the ex∣treme heat of the Heart and of the other parts: which it could not do if it were hot. 3. Inasmuch as hot things expos'd to the Air are cooled, which they would not be, but at least pre∣serve their heat being in a place of the same Nature. 4. The more it is agitated the more it refresheth (as we see by Fans) because then the unessential things being seperated from it, it is more close and united; quite contrary to the other Elements, which grow hot by being agitated. 5. In the night time, the more pure and serene and void of mixtures the Air is, the colder it is. 6. Thence it is that flame burnes less then boyling water or hot Iron, because in flame there is a great deal of Air, which being colder then Water and Iron represseth more the strength of the Fire. Lastly, since, according to Aristotle, Air doth not putrifie, (what is said of its corruption, being taken improperly) it is for that it is cold and dry; both these qualities being Ene∣mies to putrefication; As, on the contrary, Hot and Moist are friends to it, and the usual wayes that lead thereunto. Where∣fore, if the Air were hot and moist, it would putrifie incessantly. Besides it would be easily inflam'd being so near Neighbour to the Elementary Fire, which could have no food more proper then it.

The Fourth said, 'Tis true, all Antiquity believ'd the Air supremely, moist and moderately hot. 1. For salving the Har∣mony of the Universe, the Air becoming symbolical with the Fire by its heat, and with the water by its moisture. 2. Because we see Heat produceth Air, which thence must have affinity of Nature with its progenitor. 3. It is light, and by consequence hot. 4. Experience sheweth us this in Winter time in subterra∣neous places, where the Air is hot; because the external cold, stopping the pores of the Earth, hinders the spirits of the inclosed Air from evaporating, and so it remains hot. But to the First Reason it is answered, That the Air, without being hot, sufficiently maketh good its party in the Harmony of the Uni∣verse; for by its humidity alone it symbolizeth with the Water and the Coelestial Heat, as is seen in Animals, wherein Moist and Hot make so useful a Mass. To the Second, That Heat produ∣ceth vapour too, which is cold. To the Third, That this cold

vapour is light as well as a hot exhalation. To the Fourth, Experience is oppos'd to Experience. For in Summer the Air is cold in the Cavities of the Earth, as well as hot there in the Winter: Which proceedeth not from the Air, but from the sense; which whereas it ought to be void of the qualities of the object, is here preposses'd therewith. The Moderns affirm with more probability that the Air is cold. 1. Because in the Middle Region (where it is left in its proper Nature) it is such. 2. In the Northern parts remote from the Sun, its rigor hath such ef∣fect as to freeze the Sea, and even in our Countries we are sensi∣ble in Winter of the Sun, and yet in clear weather of great Frosts; To which it is answer'd: 1. That the Middle Region of the Air is not so cold of its own Nature, but by reason of the vapours which refrigerate it uniformly every where, though those vapours ascend not equally from the Water, but more in one place then in an other; just as the heat of the Fire which is directly under the middle of the bottome of a great Caldron, yet heats it on all sides equally and uniformly. Also the coldness of the Air in the Northern parts, and in our Countrie, must neces∣sarily be ascrib'd to a Constellation which is made when some Star exerteth a cold influence, and is not repress'd by the Sun, who then emits his rayes slopingly, and hath not reverberation strong enough from the Earth. This is prov'd by the Thaw, which is from the influence, (not of the Sun, for he is too weak; and it sometimes happens when he is less elevated above our Horizon, but) of some hot Star, which gaineth the ascendant over the cold. And indeed we see a Frost and a Thaw happen without any fore∣going mutation in the Air, at least, that is sensible. I conceive then that the Air is neither hot nor cold, but indifferent to both. What it hath actual is its humidity, from whence it deriveth its great mobility. The reason is, for that the Air is the Universal Medium of all natural Actions, and the general interposer in all the transactions of Agents and Patients; for which office it ought not to be an Enemy to any of them. Now of Agents the most powerful are Heat and Cold. When Heat acts it con∣signes its impression to the Air to transfer the same by Propaga∣tion to the subject upon which it acts. But if the Air were Cold, instead of faithfully keeping and delivering the impression of Heat, it would abate and destroy it. On the contrary, if it were Hot, it would destroy the Cold Body which acteth, instead of assisting it in its action: Just as the Crystalline humour which serves as a Medium to the sight, hath naturally no colour, lest otherwise the Case would be the same as in colour'd glass, through which all objects that are seen borrow its colour; Or as in the Tongue, whose Taste being deprav'd, it judgeth all things bitter. But the Air being onely Humid, is the common friend of both parties; For Moist symbolizing both with Hot and Cold, fights against neither. The Air then is that Humid Sub∣stance which taketh no other figure, bounds, or inclosure, then

that of the Bodies which environ it; for the becoming most obedient, to which it hath an incomparable Mobility, Fluidity, and Flexibility; Which being consistent onely in a Humid Sub∣stance, it is by Humidity alone as its essential propriety actuated and informed.

II. Whether it is best for a State to have Slaves.

Upon the Second Point it was said, That Servitude is opposite to Dominion, which is of Two sorts; Despoti••al or Sovereign, and Political or Civil. The former is absolute, and with pure and full Authority commands without being liable to be ask'd a reason; For the pleasure of the Commander is one. The Latter oft times receives check in its course by the right which inferiours have to remonstrate, and also in certain Cases to declare to the Command. Such is that of a Master over a workman, or a hired domestick that is voluntarily subject for certain wages and time; and of this the Question now is not. The former is contrary to natural Law, introduc'd onely by that of Nations: For all Men being equal by Nature, there is no Natural Reason for ren∣dring one person slave to an other. Nevertheless Servitude may be term'd Natural, being founded upon the inequality of the sufficiencies and abilities of Men; Some being born with Organs so nimble and pliant, that their Mind acts almost Di∣vinely; Others are so dull, that the Soul seemes mir'd in a slough. Moreover such as are made to obey have usually robust Bodies; And others born to command have weak and tender, as more sutable and fit for the functions of the Mind.

This being premis'd, There is furthermore an Absolute Good, and a Relative. The Absolute is such in it self, and of its own essence, without borrowing elsewhere the reason of its goodness. The other is Derivative, and hath nothing but by relation to some other. Extreme Servitude or Slavery cannot be an Abso∣lute Good, since it is contrary to Natural Right. But it is a Relative Good, in the first place, to the Slaves: For 'tis an ex∣change, made by the Conquerours Clemency, of Death into Ser∣vitude, to the benefit of the Captives; whose condition is bet∣ter in living Servants then in dying Free-men. 2. 'Tis a Good to the Common-wealth; For as God draws Good out of Evil, so doth the Publick Service from those whom it might have put to death, and would not. 3. Their Example, and the terrible prospect of their condition, holds such in duty as Vice would otherwise drive on to the perpetration of mischief.

An other said, That Slavery is an Institution of the law of nati∣ons, by which one is, contrary to Nature, subjected to the Domi∣nion of another; Which Dominion, before the Emperour Antoni∣nus Pius, extended to Life and Death; But since that power hath been restrain'd, so that he that grievously outraged his Slave was forc'd to sell him. But if he kill'd him he incurr'd the same penalty as if he had slain the Servant of another: It being for the good of the Common-wealth, that none abuse even what

belongeth to himself. Since that time the Master had absolute Power over his Slave, to employ him in all kind of work, as he pleased, to hire him forth and draw profit by him; and in case of non-obedience to chastise him more or less according to the at∣trocity of his crime; Provided that there follow'd not thereby mutilation of Members. He hath also Power to alienate him, and that Power is extended likewise to the Children which hap∣pen to be begotten by him during the servitude. The Slave also cannot acquire any thing, but it is his Master's. Nor can he com∣plain of his master, or forsake him for having been lightly punish'd: But he may for mortal Hunger, or grievous Contumely; as if the Master offer to force his Slave, in which case the Slave [of either Sex] running to the Temples, Sepulchres, and Statues, which serv'd them for Sanctuary, ought to be sold, and his price paid to the Master. Now there are Four sorts of Slaves: The First and most ancient are such as have been taken in war, who of Free-men, (as they were before) being conquer'd become in the power of the Conquerours. The Second are those who having deserved Death are condemned to the punishment of the Gallies, Common-shores, and publick works, and anciently to the Mines and Mills: (in which Mines the Spaniards at this day employ the Americans) And they are called Forcats, or Slaves of pu∣nishment. The Third are those who being unable to satisfie their Creditors by reason of their poverty, are sold with their own consent, and pay the price of their liberty to be acquitted by them, that so they may avoid the cruelty of the said Creditors, who had to dismember them. These three sorts of Servants be∣came such, having before been free-men. But the Fourth sort is of those that are such by Nature, and are born Servants, being descended from a Slave. Now, in my Judgement, 'tis fitting to introduce and retain these four sorts of Servitude in a State, since they are very natural and reasonable. For besides that there are Men who are born to command, others to obey; It seemes that Servitude having been from the Beginning of the World, and presently after the Deluge, when Noah cursing Canaan his younger Son, pronounc'd him Servant of the Servants of his Brethren: And being as ancient, yea ancienter then the founda∣tion of States and Empires; and having been approv'd by an∣cient Law-givers and wise Politicians, and by God himself, it cannot be esteemed but reasonable and natural. For in the First Place, What is so just and so sutable to the Law of Nature, [The First, containing onely Marriages, Procreation, and Edu∣cation of Children] as to give life to him whom you may justly deprive thereof, to feed him and cloath him; And in exchange for so many benefits to make use of him and of all that he can earn, and to make him return to his duty by some moderate punish∣ments in case he recede from it? Which is the advice of Aristotle in his Oeconomicks, where he saith, That a good Father of a Family ought to give Three Things to his Servants, viz.

Work, Food, and Discipline. I conceive it also less unsutable to Nature, yea to Christianity, to make use of Criminals then to put them to death; If Example, for which principally they are punish'd, will permit: And also instead of sending so many stout men to the Gallows for common crimes, or putting them to the Sword (as they do in War) to put them to the chain for the service of the publick, either for labouring in Buildings, Cloy∣sters, and Fortificatlons of Cities, repairing of wayes, cleansing of Streets, Towing of Boots, drawing of Charriots, labouring in High-wayes, Mines, and other publick works, after the Gal∣lies are furnish'd them. Possibly too, it would not be unmeet that he who is so endebted that he cannot satisfie his Credi∣tors, should instead of suffering himself to lie rotting in Goal, pay with the Service of his Body what he cannot in Money: But it would be fit to use a difference therein. And as for those that are born of Slaves, is there any thing more ours then such fruits grown within our walls and sprung from our own stock?

The Last opposed, that it is difficult for an Absolute Dominion to keep any measure. Witness Quintus Flaminius, a Roman Senator, who kill'd his Slave to content the curiosity which a Bardash of his had to see what aspect a Man hath when he is dying. Besides, if there be any place where Liberty ought to carry the Cause, (were not Christian Brother-hood alone suffi∣cient,) it is France, of which the priviledge is such, that the Slaves of any part of the world, onely setting their foot therein, obtain their freedom immediately.

The Inventions propounded were the Experiment of Vitru∣vius's Aeolipila, that of walking under the Water; and the Sub∣jects of the next Conference; The First, Water; the Second, Wine, and Whether it be necessary in War.

CONFERENCE VIII.

I. Of Water. II. Of Wine, and whether it be necessary for Souldiers.

I. Of Water.

THe Discourse upon the First Point began with the division of the qualities of Water into First and Second; alledging that the First, viz. Cold and Moist, are so manifest that it is dif∣ficult to deny them: Cold, because Water being heated returns presently to its natural coldness; Moist, because it moistneth more then any other Element, and is not contained within its own bounds. But its Second, and the proprieties resulting from them, are so numerous, that they justly administer ground to the doubt which is raised; Whence proceedeth the cause of so many Varieties in Colour, Taste, Odour, and the other Objects

of the Senses. Possibly one may assign the cause of the Waters Whiteness to the Mines of Plaster; Of its Blackness to those of Iron or Stones of the same colour; The Red, to those of Cinnabar; The Green, to those of Copper; The Blew, to those of Silver; The Yellow, to those of Orpiment; The Hot, to Sulphur; The Acid, to Vitriol; The Stinking, to Bitumen. But that some parts of the Sea and Rivers abound with Fish, and that with certain kinds, and others not; That the Water of some Springs is converted into Stone, and all that is cast thereinto; Others, (as they say) make Women fruitful or barren; Some, as it is reported of the Fortunate Islands, cause weeping; Others, dy∣ing with laughter: That some pass through others without mix∣ing therewith; That others are so ponderous, that no Body whatsoever can sink to the bottome; Some, on the contrary, are so light, that nothing can swim upon them; and infinite other such proprieties: 'Tis that which seemes to surpass ordinary Ra∣tiocination. Of this kind is that which is said of a certain River in Sicily, the Water whereof cannot be brought to mingle with Wine, unless it be drawn by a chaste and continent Woman. To which was added, for a conclusion, that if the Water of Seine had this property, we should be many times in danger of drinking our Wine unmixt.

The Second said, That nothing could be more natural and methodical then to treat of Water after Air. For as in the Composition of a Mixt Body, the moisture which is predominant in the Air unites and knits the matters which are to be mixed; So the Cold which predominates in the Water closes them and gives them consistence. And as in Drawing and Painting, the Embroiderer and Painter passeth not from one light colour to a∣nother without some intermediate one, but he loseth the same insensibly in another more duskish; out of which the bright breaketh forth again by little and little to the middle of his ground: So Nature doth not pass immediately from the extreme humidity which is in the Air, to the extreme coldness which is in the Water; but causeth that the moisture of the former abateth its great vigour at the approach of the moisture which is in the Water in a weak and remiss degree, before it meet with the Cold of the Water whereunto it is to be joyned; Without which hu∣midity of the Water in a weak and remiss degree, the Cold could not compact the parts which the moisture united. So that this humidity is found in two Subjects, one subtile, which is the Air, the other more gross, which is the Water. As it happens also in the Fire, which is partly in a rare Subject, namely the fat and unctuous vapour, whereby it flameth, and (partly) in another solid and gross, which is Wood, Iron, or Coal. As Flame, it is more apt to shine and burn, penetrating the pores of the wood to find its Aliment there, which is the interior Oyle; As Coal it acts more powerfully, and is more durable. So if there were in the Mixt Body no other humidity but that of the Air, the

same inconvenience would befall it that doth a Conquerour, who having subdu'd a Country reserveth no place of Retreat for the keeping thereof; For at the first opposition which he meeteth he is constrain'd to let go his hold: So if moisture were not in the Air, it would indeed penetrate the Compounded Bodies still, as it doth as readily; but it would, suddenly dislodge again, if it had not its refuge in the Water which is more proper to preserve it.

The Third said, That Water cannot be cold in the highest degree. First, because if it were so, it could generate nothing; Cold being an Enemy to all Generation, because it locketh up the particles within; As, on the contrary, Heat is the Proximate Cause thereof, by the extension and attraction which it causeth outwards. Nevertheless, we see Plants and Animals in the Waters. Secondly, If it were so cold, being moist too, it would be alwayes frozen; since according to Aristotle, Ice is nothing but an excess of coldness with moisture. Thirdly, Those qualities which are attributed to Water are common to many other things besides; As to the Air, when it is cold: and do not necessarily belong to it, but may be separated from it; since, remaining Water still, it may become hot by the Fire, and frozen by the Air, and so be found destitute of its fluidity and humidity. If it be said, That it loseth not its qualities but by accident, and that of its own Nature it is cold; I answer, That the Natural and Necessary Proprieties of Things, proceding immediately from their Essence, (such as those of Water are held to be) cannot be taken from them but by Miracle: And on the contrary, That it is not cold but by the vicinity of the cold Air which encompasseth it, and not of its own Nature; Whence the surface of the Water is cold in Winter, and some∣times frozen, the bottome remaining warm. And therefore the Fish do not come much to the upper part of the Water in Winter, but stay below, where it is in its own Nature, and is not so easily alter'd with forrein qualities. Moreover, since we know the Qualities of a Thing by its Effects, the Effect of Wa∣ter being, even in the Judgement of Sense, to moisten more then any of the Elements, it ought to be held the Chief or First Humid Body. If it be said that it moistneth more then the Air, because it is more gross and compact (as hot Iron burneth more then flame;) I answer, That although it may owe that humidity to the thickness of its Matter, yet the same is not the less essential to it, since Matter is one part of the Element; And besides, it proceedeth from the Form too, since it can never be separated from it; Water alwayes necessarily moistning whilst it is Water. Which cannot be said of its coldness: for when it is warm it doth not lose its name of Water, though it be no longer cold; but it is alwayes moist.

The Fourth said, That, to speak properly Water, is never hot in it self; but 'tis the Fire insinuating and mingling it self

with the little Particles of the Water that we feel hot; and accordingly that Fire being evaporated, the Water not onely returneth to its natural quality, but also the Fire leaving its pores more open renders them more accessible to the Air, which freezes the same in Winter sooner then it would do otherwise. And this is no more then as Salt and Sulphureous Waters are made such by the Salt and Sulphur mingled therewith; Which being separated from them, they lose also the taste thereof. And as Wine mingled with Water is still truly Wine, and hath the same Virtue as before, though its activity be repress'd by the power of the Water; So Water mingled with Salt, Sulphur, and Fire, is true Water, and hath intrinfecally the same qualities as before that mixture; though indeed its action be retarded, and its qualities be checked and rebated by the other contraries which are more powerful. In like manner, Water is not cold of it self, but by the absence of Fire; As it happens in Winter, that the igneous beams of the Sun not staying upon the Water, it persisteth cold, and so that coldness is but a privation of heat; As appears in the shivering of an Ague, which proceedeth from the retiring of the natural heat inwards, and deserting the external parts. But if there happen a total privation of those igneous parts, which are infus'd into it mediately or immediately by the Sun, then it becometh frozen: And because those fiery Particles occupied some space in its Body, it is now straitned, and takes less room then before. Whence Water freezing in Vessels well stopp'd, the same break for the avoidance of Vacuum. Moreover, Humidity is not one of its essential proprieties, because it may be separated from it, as we see in frozen water, which is less humid then when it was cold. It followes then, that Second Qualities being Tokens of the First, and the goodness of Water requiring that it have the least weight that can be, as also that it have neither Taste nor Smell; the most pure, (i. e. the Elemen∣tary, of which we are speaking) is without First Qualities; ha∣ving been created by God onely to be the band or tye of the other parts of a mixt body.

The Fifth said, That the Scripture divideth the Waters into those which are above the Heavens, and those upon the Earth; as if to teach us that Water is the Centre, the Middle, and the end of the Universe. Which agrees with the opinion of those who establish it for the Sole Principle of all things. Those Su∣percoelestial Waters are prov'd by the Etymology of the word for Heavens, Schamaim, which signifies in Hebrew, There are Waters: Because 'tis said that God divided the Waters from the Waters, and placed them above the Firmament: Which Super∣coelestial Waters are also invited by the Psalmist to bless the Lord: And lastly, because it is said that at the time of the De∣luge the windows of Heaven were opened.

The Sixth said, That the gravity of those Supercoelestial Wa∣ters would not suffer them to remain long out of the place desti∣nated

to that Element, which is below the Air; And therefore it were better to take the word Heaven in those places for the Air, as 'tis elsewhere in the Scripture, which mentioneth the Dew, and the Birds of Heaven: Since also the Hebrew word, which there signifies Firmament, is also taken for the Expansion of the Air, and those Supercoelestial Waters for Rain.

II. Of Wine, and whether it be necessa∣ry for Soul∣diers.

Upon the Second Point it was said, That if we speak of Wine moderately taken, the Sacred Text voids the Question, saying, that it rejoyceth the Heart. Which it performeth by supplying ample matter to the Influent Spirits, which the Heart by the Ar∣teries transmitteth to all the parts; and which joyning themselves to the private Spirits, strengthen them, and labour in common with them; And so the Souldier, entring into fight with a cheerful Heart, is half victorious. Yea, the greatest exploits of War are atchieved by the Spirits; which constitute Courage, the Blood heated by them over-powring the coldness of Me∣lancholy and Phlegme, which cause backwardness and slow∣ness of Action. For it is with the Virtues as with Medicines, which become not active▪ and pass not from power into act, but by help of the natural faculties; So the Virtues do not produce their effects but by the Spirits. But Wine taken in excess is wholly prejudicial to the Valour of a Souldier; who hath need of a double strength; One of Mind, to lead him on valiantly to dangers, and keep him undaunted at dreadful occurrences; The other of Body, to undergo the long toiles of War, and not draw back in fight. Now Wine destroyes both of these. For as for the former, Valour or Fortitude is a Moral Virtue, which, as all other Virtues its companions, acteth under the conduct of Prudence, which alone ruleth and employeth them, and know∣eth where and how they ought to act; So that what assists Pru∣dence assists Valour too; and that which hureth the one hurt∣eth the other also. Now excessive Wine hurteth the former very much. For by its immoderate heat it causeth a tumult and disor∣der in the humours, it maketh the Brain boyle and work, and consequently embroyleth and confoundeth the Phantasines which are imprinted in it, (as it happeneth in sleep or in the Phrensie) and by its gross vapour it obstructeth all its passages. So that the Understanding cannot take its Survey there, having no free access to come and form its judgements and conclusions upon the Ideas and Phantasmes; And although it should have its Avenues free, yet the Phantasmes being in confusion, like Images in stirred waters, it would be impossible for it to judge aright, and prudently to discern what fear or what eagerness ought to be check'd and repel'd. For all Fear is not to be rejected, no more then 'tis to be follow'd; nor is the bridle to be let loose at all ad∣ventures, nor alwayes restrain'd. The strength of the Body is also impaird by Wine. For though Galen and others will have it Hot and Dry, yet it being so but potentially, 'tis as subject to

deceive us, as that Dutchman was, who hearing that Cresses were hot, commanded his Man to fill his Boots therewith, to warm him. For the truth is, Wine is moist and vapourous, and that to such a degree, that by reason of its extreme humidity it cannot be corrupted with a total corruption; For this happeneth when the external heat hath wholly drawn out the moisture of the corrupted Body, and so dissolved the Union of all the dry parts which moisture keeps together; So that the Elements fly∣ing away, there remains nothing to be seen but Earth alone. Which cannot come to pass in Wine, by reason of the little dry substance in it, and of its great humidity, which cannot be wholly separated: In which regard it is never corrupted but in part, viz. when the external heat draws away the more pure substance, and the better Spirits; as we see when it grows sour, thick, or turbid. Being then humid to such a degree, and our parts partaking of the nature of their food, if Souldiers nourish their Bodies excessively with Wine, they must retain the quali∣ties thereof, viz. softness and weakness which follow humidity. Whence possibly came the word Dissolute, for such as addict them∣selves to this debauchery, and the other which follow it. There∣fore the Souldier would be more robust if he never drank Wine; because he would eat the more, and produce the more solid sub∣stance, which would make him more vigorous, less subject to diseases, and more fit to indure in sight, and undergo the other toils of War.

The Second said, That it belongs to the prudent States-man to weigh the benefit and the mischief which may arise from his orders; So that he alwayes propose to himself that he hath to do with imperfect men, and who incline rather to the abuse, then the right use of things. This holds principally in War, Souldiers willingly aiming at nothing else but pleasure and profit: Even in this Age, wherein we are past the Apprentisage of War, except some constant Regiments: Souldiers are tumultuously chosen al∣most alwayes out of the dregs of the people; of whom to require the exercise of Temperance in the use of that which ordinarily costs them nothing, were to seek an impossibility. Such is Wine, that though it makes the Souldier sturdy, yet it makes him unfit to govern himself, much less others; Whereunto notwithstand∣ing he oftentimes becomes oblig'd by the various contingencies of War, when the Leaders miscarrying, or being elsewhere employ'd, the Souldier must supply the place of Captain to his Companions and himself. This hath mov'd almost all the Orien∣tal Nations, and particularly the Turks to abstain from Wine, though they also adjoyn reasons for it drawn from their false Religion, to confirm their Minds more in conformity to this piece of Policy. Therefore Mahomet, to induce them to it by their own experience, invited the principal Persons of his Army to a Feast, where he caus'd them to be served with the most ex∣quisite Wines. First they all agreed upon the Excellency of

Wine; but having taken too much of it, there arose such a tu∣mult amongst them, that he took occasion thence, the next morn∣ing, to represent to them that Wine was nothing else but the Blood of the first Serpent, whose colour it also beareth; as the stock of the Vine which produceth it retaineth the crooked form of that vile Animal, and the rage whereinto it putteth those that use it, doth testifie. And to content them that still lov'd the taste of it, he promis'd them that they should drink no∣nothing else in their Paradise, where their Bodies would be proof against its violence. Which Prohibition hath been the most apparent cause of the amplification of his Empire, and pro∣pagation of his Sect; not onely because Wine was by its acrimo∣ny dangerous to the most part of his Subjects of Africa and Arabia, where such as are addicted to it are subject to the Leprosie; and that his people who cultivated Vines might employ themselves more profitably in tilling the Earth, but principally it hath been more easie for him and his successors to keep 200000 men of War in the field without the use of Wine, then for another Prince as potent as he to keep 50000 with the use of Wine; which be∣sides is difficult to transport, and incumbreth the place of Am∣munition which is absolutely necessary.

The Third said, That Mahomet was not the first that prohi∣bited Wine; for before him Zaleucus forbad the Locrians to drink it upon pain of Death. The Lacedemoniaus and the Carthagini∣ans, as Aristotle reporteth, had an express Law by which they forbad the use of it to all people that belong'd to War. And the wise man counselleth onely the afflicted to drink it, to the end to forget their miseries. But for all this he conceiv'd that it ought not to be prohibited now to our Souldiers, since it aug∣menteth Courage, envigorateth strength, and taketh away the fear of danger; though indeed it is fit to forbid them the excess thereof, if it be possible.

In Conclusion, It was maintain'd that Wine ought to be for∣bidden not onely to Souldiers, but to all such as are of hot and dry tempers, and use violent exercises; because it hurts them, as much as it profits weak persons. Wherefore Saint Paul coun∣selleth Timothy to use it for the weakness of his stomack. But God inhibited it to the Nazarens, and to those which enter'd in∣to his Tabernacle, under pain of death. Moreover, you see that Noah, who us'd it first, abus'd it. And anciently it was to be had onely in the shops of Apothecaries; because 'tis an Antidote and most excellent Cordial, provided its continual use render not its virtue ineffectual; our Bodies receiving no considerable impres∣sion from accustomed things. Therefore Augustus gave ear to all the other complaints which the Romans made to him; but when they mention'd the dearness of Wine, he derided them; telling them that his Son in Law Agrippa having brought Aquaeducts to the City, had taken care that they should not dye of Thirst.

At the Hour of Inventions, amongst many others, these two were propos'd. The first to prepare common Water so that it shall dissolve Gold without the addition of any other Body, &c. The second, to make a Waggon capable to transport by the help of one Man who shall be in it, the burdens of ordinary Waggons in the accustomed time: of which the Inventers deliver'd their Memories, and offer'd to make the experiments at their own charges.

These Subjects were propounded to be treated of at the next Conference. First, The Earth. Secondly, What it is that makes a Man wise.

CONFERENCE IX.

I. Of the Earth. II. What it is that makes a Man wise.

I. Of the Earth.

UPon the first Point it was said, That the Earth is a simple Body, cold and dry, the Basis of Nature. For since there is a Hot and Moist, it is requisite for the intire perfection of Mixts, that there be a Cold and a Dry to bound them, and give them shape. This Earth then upon which we tread is not Elemen∣tary; for it is almost every where moist, and being opened afford∣eth water: which was necessary to it, not onely for the union of its parts, which without moisture would be nothing but Dust; but also in regard of its gravity, which I conceive cometh from humidity; because as the lightest things are the hottest and driest, so the heaviest are usually the coldest and moistest. Be∣sides, gravity proceeding from compactedness and compactedness from moisture, it seemeth that moisture is the cause of gravity. Which is prov'd again by the dissolution of mixt Bodies, whereby we may judge of their composition. For the heaviest Bodies which are easily dissolvable, are those from which most Water is drawn; whence it is that there is more drawn from one pound of Ebeny, then from twenty of Cork. From this gravity of the Earth its roundness necessarily follows. For since 'tis the na∣ture of heavy things to tend all to one Centre, and approach thereto as much as they can, it follows that they must make a Body round and spherical, whereof all the parts are equally distant from the Centre. For if they made any other Figure, for Example, a Pyramide or a Cube, there would be some parts not in their natural place, i. e. the nearest their Centre that might be. Moreover, in the beginning the Earth was perfectly spheri∣cal, and the Waters encompassed it on all sides, as themselves were again encompassed by the Air. But afterwards, these Waters, to make place for Man, retiring into the hollows and concavities made for that purpose in the Earth, it could not be but that those parts of the Earth which came out of those cavi∣ties

must make those tumours which are the Mountains and Hills for the convenience of Man. And nevertheless it ceaseth not to be Physically round, although it be not so Mathematically; As a bowle of Pumice is round as to the whole, though the parts are uneven and rough. They prove this roundness, 1. By the shadow of the Earth; which appearing round in the Eclipses of the Moon, argueth that the Body whence it proceedeth is also round. 2. Because they who travel both by Sea and by Land sooner discern the tops of Mountains and the spires of Steeples then the bottome; which would be seen at the same time if the Earth were flat. 3. Because, according as we approach, or go farther from the Poles, we see the same more or less elevated. 4. Because the Sun is seen daily to rise and set sooner in one place then in another. Lastly, it is prov'd by the conveniency of habitation. For as of all Isoperimeter Figures the Circle is most capacious, so the Sphere containeth more then any other Body; and there∣fore if the Earth were not round, every part of it would not have its Antipodes. So that I wonder at the opinion of Lactanti∣us and Saint Augustine, who denyed them: For as for that story, that in the year 745. by the relation of Aventinus, Virgilius a German Bishop was deprived of his Bishoprick, and condemned as an Heretick by Pope Zachary, it was not onely for maintaining this truth, which experience hath since confirm'd, but because he drew conclusions from it prejudicial to Religion. Now whereas it may be doubted, whether as there are uneven parts in the Earth some higher then other, so there be not also Seas, some of whose waters too, are more elevated then the rest; I affirm, that since all the Seas (except the Caspian) have com∣munication amongst themselves, they are all level, and no higher one then another. And had they no such communication, yet the Water being of its Nature fluid and heavy, flowing into the lowest place, would equal its surface with the rest, and so make a perfect Sphere. Whence it follows that they were mistaken who disswaded Sesostris King of Aegypt from joyning the Red Sea with the Mediterranean, for fear lest the former, which they judg'd the higher, should come to drown Greece and part of Asia. For want of which demonstration several Learned Men have been mistaken, and no less then the Angelical Doctor.

The Second said, That the Earth is very dry, not for that it dispelleth moisture as Fire doth, but for that it receiveth and im∣bibeth it into it self. But it cannot be cold of its own Nature; if it were it could produce nothing. It is cold onely by the Air, as 'tis sometimes moist by the Water, and hot by the Fire which insinuateth into its cavities. It is also very heavy, since it holdeth the lowest place in the world, and hath its motion from the circumference to the Centre; which is the progression that A∣ristotle attributeth to heavy Bodies. Whence for being the lowest stage, it is called the Foot-stool of God. But this heaviness seemeth to me not to proceed from humidity, as was urged. For though

the Water and Earth joyn'd together seem to weigh more then Earth alone; 'tis not that they weigh more indeed, but this Earth which was imagined to be alone is fill'd with a quantity of Air; and the Water coming to succeed in its place, it appear∣eth more heavy. For Earth and Water joyn'd together weigh more then Earth and Air so joyn'd in like quantity; because Water is heavier then Air. And to justifie that Earth is heavier then Water, a bucket fill'd with sand, weighes more then an other fill'd with Water. For, that sand is Water congealed is as hard to prove, as that Earth is Water.

The Third said, That Earth composeth a Mixt Body by a double action, viz. from its coldness, and of its driness. As for the former, it secondeth the Water, compacting by its coldness the parts which are to be mix'd, and which moisture hath united. For the Second, it giveth hardness and consistence, imbibing and sucking up the superfluous moisture after the due union of the parts made thereby. It cannot but be cold; for as good Politi∣tians willingly reconcile two great Families at Enmity by their mutual alliances so all the strength of the mixture consisting onely in the union of Dry and Moist, and its destruction com∣ing from their disunion, and the Dry and Moist being wholly Enemies and contraries in the highest degree, Nature reconciles them together, and brings them into union by the mediation of Water. For this being ally'd to Air by the moisture which it hath in a remiss degree; and Earth being ally'd to Water by the coldness which it hath in a less degree, it becometh ally'd to the Air and its humidity: Since according to the maxime, Things which agree in the same third agree among themselves. Thus you see coldness is necessary to the Earth, to cause a lasting composition amongst them. Earth hath also this advantage by its siccity, that as the same is less active then heat, and yieldeth thereunto in vigour of action, so heat yieldeth to it in resistance. For the dryness inducing hardness resisteth division more power∣fully, and consequently better preserveth the mixt Body in being, resisting the Agents which are contrary to it. Whereto its gravi∣ty serveth not a little, it rendring the Earth less managable by the agitations of the agents its Enemies; So that gravity by this means assisteth the hardness and consistence of the dryness; like two Kinsmen uniting together to keep off the affronts of their Enemies.

The Fourth said, That the gravity of the Earth, and of every other Body, yea that of Gold too, the heaviest of all mixt Bodies, dependeth onely upon its Figure; since not onely a Vessel con∣vex on the side toward the Water sinketh not, but also a single leaf of Gold swimeth upon it. Which is seen likewise in Tera Lem∣nia, or Sigillata, which sinketh not in the Water; so that there is no probility in that decuple proportion of the Elements; ac∣cording to which, Earth ought to weigh ten times more then Water, and Water onely ten times more then Air; and supposing

one were in the Region of Fire, and there weigh'd the Air, as we do here the Water, he would find it likewise ten times heavier then the Fire. This is more certain, that the proportion of the weight of Earth to that of Sea-water, is as 93. to 90; that of Sea-water to fresh, as 92. to 74. But that which makes more for those who hold Water more heavy then Earth, is, that the proportion of Earth to Salt is found to be as 92. to 106.

In fine, It was remark'd that though the Earth is consider'd by Astronomers but as a point in respect of the vast extent of the Coelestial Orbs; yet no Man encompas'd it round before the year 1420. when Jean de Betancourt, a Norman Gentleman, by the discovery of the Canaries trac'd out the way to the Spani∣ards, who attributed the honour thereof to themselves; though they began not till above fourscore years after. Moreover, it is 15000. leagues in circumference, of which there is not much less Land uncover'd then there is cover'd by the Water. But if you compare their greatness together, there is far less Earth then Water. For 'tis held that there is no Sea that hath a league in depth, there is little without bottom, many to which the Anchors reach, yea several places not capable of great vessels for want of Water. On the other side, There are Mountains upon which you still ascend upwards for many dayes journey; others inaccessible even to the sight: In a word, where ever there is Sea there is Land, but not on the contrary. So that taking the sixt part of the compass of the Terrestrial Globe for its Semidia∣metre, according to the ordinary proportion of the circle to its ray, the Earth will be found several times greater then the Wa∣ter; the Springs that are found in opening it, being not con∣siderable in comparison of the rest of its bulk.

II. What it is that makes a Man wise.

He that spake first upon the second point, said, that he wonder'd not that Wisedom was taken for a Subject to be treated of in so good company, since 'tis the point which all desire most, not onely in themselves, but also in others with whom they are to con∣verse. But it behoveth to distinguish the same according to its several acceptions. For anciently Wisedom was taken for the knowledge of things Divine and Humane, before Pythagoras call'd it Philosophy. At present it is confounded with Prudence, and is either infused or acquired. The former, which springeth from the knowledge and fear of God joyn'd with a good life, is ob∣tain'd by begging it of God, and rendring one's self worthy to re∣ceive it: Such was that of Solomon, which brought to him all other goods. The latter, of which we now speak, is obtain'd by Precepts, Experience, or both. Whereunto Travel is con∣ceiv'd greatly to conduce, according to the testimony of Homer, who calls his wise Ʋlysses a Visitor of Cities; and according to the opinion of the ancient French Gentry, who would not have had a good opinion of their Children, unless they had seen Italy and other forreign Countries. It is also divided according to

Sex, Conditions, and Age. For there is difference in the Wisedom of a Woman, of a Child, of a Man grown, and of an Old Man; and so there is in that of a Father of a Family, of his Domestick, of a Captain, of a Souldier, of a Magistrate, of a Citizen, of a Master, of a Varlet, and of infinite others, who may become wise by several, yea, sometimes by contrary means. For Example, a wise Souldier ought to expose himself to all dangers and events of War; quite the contrary to a wise Captain, who ought to preserve himself the most he can. A Prince, a Magi∣strate, a Master, a Father, are wise, if they command as is fitting: Whereas a Subject, a Burgess, a Servant, and a Child, are esteemed such in obeying them. Besides Precepts and Experience, Example serves much to the acquiring of Wisedom; whether the same be drawn from the reading of Books, or from converse and conference with wise persons; or sometimes too from the sight of undecent things: As of old the Lacedemonians taught their Children Sobriety, by shewing their Helots drunk. The Example of Animals is not useless thereunto; and therefore Solomon sends the sluggard to the Pismire; and Lycurgus taught the same Lacedemonians, that Education alone made the difference between Men, by shewing them two Dogs of the same litter run, one after a Hare, the other to his Meat. Fables likewise have many times their use. But true it is, that Nature layeth the great Foundations: Whence Cold and Dry Tempers, such as the Melancholly, have a natural restraint which participateth much of Wisedom; Whereas the Sanguine, by reason of their jollity, and the Cholerick, in regard of their hastiness, have greater difficulty to attain the same, as Socrates confessed of himself.

The Second said, That the true Moral Wisedom of a Man, con∣sider'd alone, consisteth in taming his Passions, and subjecting them to the Command of Reason; which alone serveth for a Rule and Square to all the Actions of Life; whereas the com∣mon sort leave themselves to be govern'd by the Laws: And the ancient Philosophy had no other aim but that Apathy. That of a Master of a Family consisteth in the management of the same: That of a Polititian in the Administration of the State, punishing the evil-doers, and recompencing the good, establish∣ing wholesome Laws, and maintaining Trade.

The Third said, That He alone deserves to wear the name of Wise, who seeketh and embraceth the means whereby to be in fa∣vour with him who is the Chief Wisedom. Those means are two. First, That his Understanding be duely inform'd of what he ought to know, and what he ought to be ignorant of. Se∣condly, That his Will be dispos'd to what he ought, either to love or hate. As for the first, he must be ignorant of Humane Sciences, since they shake and undermine the foundations of true Wisedom; their Principles being for the most part opposite to the Articles of our Faith. For of the ancient Philosophers, the

Pythagoreans are full of Magical superstitions. The Platonists hold a Matter coeternal to God. Democritus and all the Epicu∣reans have thought the same of their Atomes, not to mention their Voluptuous End. The Stoicks have made their Sage equal, and sometimes superiour to God, whom they subjected to their celebrated Destiny or Fate. The Pyrrhonians have doubted of every thing, and consequently of the truth of Religion. The Cynicks publickly made Virtue of Vice. The Peripateticks are as much to be fear'd as the former, with their Eternity of the World, which destroyeth all Religion, and gave occasion to Saint Ambrose, to say in his Offices, That the Lycaeum was much more dangerous then the gardens of Epicurus. Moreover, the Principles of the Sciences do not accord with those of Faith: And Saint Thomas said with good right, that Humane Reason greatly diminisheth it. And that happens oft times to those who busie themselves about those goodly principles which the Poets relate fabulously of Bellerophon, who attempting to fly up to Heaven, Jupiter angry at him, sent onely a Fly, which overturn∣ed the winged Horse-man; So those vain-glorious wits puff'd up with some Humane Knowledge, venturing to hoise themselves into Heaven, and penetrate into the secret Cabinets of the Divine Providence; it gives them up to a thousand dubious Controver∣sies, which precipitate them into the darkness of Confusion and Errour. Moreover Solomon, the pattern of Wisedom, saith, that after having lead his Mind through all Nature, he perceiv'd that all was nothing but vanity and vexation of spirit; And Saint Paul saith, that Knowledge puffeth up and swelleth with Pride; that this Humane Wisedom is nought but Folly before God; by which he admonisheth us to beware of being deceived; and that if any one will be wise, let him profess Ignorance, and be∣come a fool, since the Folly and Ignorance of the world is the true Wisedom and Knowledge in the sight of God, who loveth the poor of spirit, that is, the simple, ideots, and ignorant. As for what our Understanding ought to know, for becoming wise, 'tis, To know that Chief Wisedom, and the Christian Doctrine, by the example of the same Saint Paul, who would not know any thing besides Jesus and him crucisi'd. For the Se∣cond means, which regardeth the Will of Man, it will be dis∣posed to that which is to be lov'd or hated, when it hath sub∣mitted it self entirely to the Will of God, who is its Supreme Good; who saith to it, Eschew Evil, and Follow Good.

The Fourth said, That by the word Wisedom, is generally un∣derstood all that which contributes to perfectionate a Man ac∣cording to the rational part; as by the word Faith we understand Christianity, and a Summary of all the Christian Virtues. Now it is hard to prescribe a way to such Wisedom, seeing it requireth two points, namely, The Knowledge of Things, and Moral Habits, both which are infinite. For all which is Sensible is the Object of our Senses, and enters not by one, but by all; That which is

Intelligible, is the Object of our Understanding. Moreover, all the Good in the world is under the notion of Convenience (or sutableness) which gives it Amability, the Object of our Sensi∣tive appetite, which is guided in this acquitst by the knowledge of the Senses; If it is Spiritual, it is the Object of the Will which pursues it by the light of the Understanding. And for the eschew∣ing of Errour in the search of those Goods Prudence inter∣venes, which hath at its service an infinite of habits of the Mind; yea the whole troop of Moral Virtues, in the exercise of which there is always something to be got, as there is always to be learnt in the knowledge of things. Therefore every Man being fully furnish'd with what is needful to be wise, he is not excusable if he become not so. For he hath the seeds of Wisedom in as many manners as there are wayes to obtain it. In the Under∣standing he hath, from the Cradle, Intelligence, which is the Habit of first Principles, and Maximes, which he knoweth by the Induction of the Senses; by the help of which he attaineth Sci∣ence. In the Will he hath the Synteresis or Conscience, which is an Habitual Cognition of the Principles of Moral Actions, by which he easily proceedeth to the exercise of Virtues, and to the acquisition of them. And further, these pure Natural Princi∣ples may be assisted and reliev'd by good Instructions; and espe∣cially, if they who learn have Organs well dispos'd, and a temper proper for becoming wise.

At the Hour of Inventions, one undertook the proof of Archi∣medes's Proposition, To move the Earth from its Centre, if he had assign'd elsewhere a solid space, and instruments proporti∣on'd thereto in greatness and strength. And it was prov'd, that the Centre of Magnitude is different from that of gravity, by many Mechanical Experiments.

After which it was resolv'd to treat, at the next Conference. First, Of the Motion, or rest of the Earth. Secondly, Of two monstrous Brethren living in one Body, to be seen at present in this City.

CONFERENCE X.

I. Of the Motion, or Rest of the Earth. II. Of Two Monstrous Brethren, living in the same Body, which are to be seen in this City.

I. Of the Mo∣tion, or Rest of the Earth.

HE that spake first to this Point, Said this Question had been in debate for more then two thousand years; and the rea∣sons brought on either side seem'd to him so strong, that he knew not which to embrace. That the most common opinion was that of Aristotle, Ptolomy, Tycho Brahe, and the greatest part of

Philosophers, namely; That the Earth is unmoveable, and plac'd in the midst of the World. Which Scituation is prov'd, I. Be∣cause the Decorum and Symmetry of the Universe requires that every thing be plac'd according to its dignity. But the Earth be∣ing the ignoblest and meanest of the Elements, all which yield in point of dignity to the Heavens, it ought consequently to be in the lowest place, which is the Centre of the World. II. The Gravity of the Earth inferreth both the one and the other; namely, its being in the Centre, and its Immobility; The former, because the heaviest things tend toward the lowest place; and the latter, because by reason of their gravity they are less apt for motion then for rest, whereunto the lowest place also contributeth. For in a Circle the Centre remains unmoveable, whilst the other parts thereof are mov'd. III. In whatsoever place of the Earth we are, we can alwayes discover one half of the Heaven, and the opposite signes of the Zodiack; as also ex∣perience witnesseth, that when the Moon is at the Full, we be∣hold her rise just at the same time that the Sun sets. Whence it followeth that the Earth is at the Centre, and as it were a point in comparison to the Firmament. IV. We alwayes see the Stars of the same magnitude, both when they are directly over our heads, and on the edge of the Horizon, unless there be some hindrance by the refraction of Vapours and Clouds. All which things would not be thus, unless the Earth were in the midst of the World. Now they have concluded the Rest and Immobility of the Earth from the following Reasons I. It is the nature of Simple Bodies to have but one Sole and Simple Mo∣tion. For if two contrary Motions were in the same Subject, the one would hinder the other. Wherefore the Earth having, by reason of its gravity, a Direct perpendicular Motion of its own, cannot have also a Circular: and by reason of the same gravity it must needs be firm and stable, not moveable. II. If the Earth were mov'd, then a stone or other heavy thing cast upwards, would never fall down at the foot of the caster, but at distance from him; for during the short interval of its being in the Air, the Earth will have made a great progress; as it hap∣pens when one in a boat that passeth swiftly upon the Water, casteth any thing upwards, the same falleth a far off, instead of falling into the boat. III. If the Earth turn'd round, then a Bullet discharg'd out of a Cannon from the West towards the East, would not fly so far from the piece, as one discharg'd from the East towards the West; because the Earth will in the mean time by its Motion have carried the Cannon forwards to the former Bullet, and remov'd it backwards from the latter. IV. We should never see the Clouds unmov'd, nor going to∣wards the East; but as for them that move Westward, they would seem to fly as swift as lightning. V. Cities and all kind of buidings would be shatter'd, the Surface of the Earth would be disunited, and all its parts dissipated; being not so firmly

link'd together, as to endure such a Motion. Lastly, did the Earth turn round, and the Air with it (as is alledg'd in answer to the former reasons) the Air would have been so heated since its Motion with that swiftness, that the Earth would have been uninhabitable▪ and all Animals suffocated; Besides that the vio∣lence of that could Motion not have been supported by Men so long time; for it is acknowledg'd that Daemons themselves can∣not carry a Man from one Climate to another remote one, within that short time, that some Magicians have phanci'd; because he would not be able to resist the violence of the agitation of the Air.

The Second confirm'd this Opinion, alledging, That such Motion would be violent in respect of the Earth; which for that it naturally tendeth downwards cannot be hois'd towards Heaven, but against its own Nature; and no violent thing is durable. He added also the testimony of the Scripture, which saith, God hath establish'd the Earth that it shall not be moved; that it is firm or stable for ever; that the Sun riseth and setteth, passing by the South toward the North: And lastly, it relateth the standing still of the Sun at Joshuah's word, as one of the greatest Miracles.

On the other side, it was affirm'd, That the Opinion of Coper∣nicus is the more probable, which Orpheus, Thales, Aristarchus, and Philolaus held of old, and hath been follow'd by Kepler, Longomontanus, Origanus, and divers others of our times, viz. That the Earth is mov'd about the Sun, who remaineth un∣moveable in the Centre of the World. Their Reasons are, I. The middle, being the most noble place, is therefore due to the most noble Body of the World, which is the Sun. II. It is not more necessary that the Heart be seated in the midst of Man, then that the Sun be plac'd in the midst of the Universe, quickning and heating the greater, as that doth the lesser World. Nor do we place the Candle in a corner, but in the midst of the Room. III. The circular Motion of the Planets round about the Sun seemes to argue that the Earth doth the same. IV. It is more reasonable that the Earth which hath need of Light, Heat, and Influence, go to seek the same, then that the Sun go to seek that which he needeth not; Just as the Fire doth not turn before the Roast-meat, but the Roast-meat before the Fire. V. Rest and Immobility is a nobler condition then Motion, and ought to belong to the visible Image of the Deity, viz. the Sun, who in that regard hath been adored by sundry Nations. VI. We see heavy things kept up in the Air onely by virture of Motion; For instance, a stone plac'd in a sling, and turn'd round about. VII. They who deny the Motion of the Earth, by the same means deny its aequilibrium, which is absurd to do. For if a grain of Wheat laid upon a Sphere exactly pendulous upon its Poles causeth the same to move, the like ought to come to pass in the Terrestrial Globe when any heavy Body is trans∣ported

upon it from one place to another: Seeing the greater a circle is, the less force is needful to move it; and there is no impediment from the Air, much less from its Centre, which is but a point. The same comes to pass when a Bullet is shot out of a Cannon against a Wall. VIII. If both the Direct and the Circular Motion be found in the Load-stone, which tendeth by its gravity to the Centre, and mov'd circular∣ly by its magnetick virtue, the same cannot be conceiv'd impos∣sible in the Earth. IX. By this Simple Motion a multitude of imaginary Orbs in the Heavens, without which their Motion cannot be understood, is wholly sav'd; and Nature alwayes acts by the most compendious way. X. It is much more likely that the Earth moves about five leagues in a minute, then that the eight Sphere in the same time moves above forty Millions, yea infinitely more, if it be true that the extent of the Heavens is infinite, and that beyond them there is neither time nor place: So that to have all the Heavens move round in four and twenty Hours, were to measure an infinite thing by a finite.

II. Of two Mon∣strous Bre∣thren living in the same Body.

He who spoke first to the Second Point, said, That in his judge∣ment the Anger of God is the true cause of Monsters, since the Scripture threatens to cause the Wives of those whom God in∣tends to punish, to bring forth Monsters. The same is the uni∣versal conceipt of the vulgar, who are terrifi'd at the sight of such prodigies, which are termed Monsters; not so much be∣cause the people shews them with the finger, as for that they de∣monstrate the Divine Anger; whereof they are always taken for infallible arguments. Upon which account the Pagans were wont to make expiation for them with sacrifices. And most Writers be∣gin or end their Histories with such presages.

The Second said, That as it is impious not to ascribe the Na∣tural Actions on Earth to Heaven, so it seem'd to him superstitious to attribute the same to the Supreme Author, without seeking out the means whereby he produceth them: For though they may be very extraordinary in regard of their seldomness, yet they have their true causes as well as ordinary events. Which doth not diminish the Omnipotence of the Divine Majesty, but, on the contrary, renders it more visible and palpable to our Senses: As the Ministers, Ambassadors, and military people employ'd by a great King for the putting of his command in execution, are no disparagement to his Grandeur. That he conceiv'd the cause of such Monsters was the quantity of the Geniture, being too much for the making of one Child, and too little for the finishing of two, which the Formative Virtue designed to pro∣duce; as also the incapacity of the Womb, which could not re∣ceive its usual extension, and that by reason of some fall or blow hapned when the parts of the Embryo's began to be di∣stinguish'd, and separated one from the other; whence an Abor∣tion

would have follow'd, had not there been a great vigour in the two faetus, which was sufficient to retain their internal formes, namely, their Souls; but could not repair the defects of the external formes, at least in that wherein the matter hath been most deficient: As the Founder, how excellent an Artist soever he be, makes an imperfect Image, when his material is defective.

The Third said, That for the passing of a certain Judgement upon the present subject, he conceiv'd fitting to make this descrip∣tion of it. The greater of this two-fold body is called Lazarus, and the other John Baptista, Son of John Baptista Coloreto, and Peri∣grine his Wife, of the Parish of Saint Bartholomew, on the Coast of the Seigniory of Genua. They were born in the year, 1617. between the eleventh and twelfth of March, about mid-night; and baptiz'd by Julio Codonio, Curé of the place by direction of the Abbot Tasty, Vicar general of the Archbishop of Genua; and three moneths after confirm'd by Pope Paul V. Their Mother dy'd three years after their birth. The first is of low stature, considering his age of more then sixteen years; of temper very melancholly and lean: Both the one and the other have brown chestnut hair. They are united together by the belly four fingers above the Navel, the skin of the one being continu'd to the other; and yet their feeling and motion are so distinct, that the one being prick'd, the other feeleth nothing. The first (saving this conjunction) is well proportion'd, and furnish'd with all his Members. The other who came into the world with a head much less then his Brother, hath one at the present twice as big; which greatness seemes to proceed from an Oedema or Inflation, occasion'd by the posture of his head, which is alwayes pendulous and supine; and this defluxion of humours, joyn'd with his Brother's negligence, hath caus'd some sores upon him. He hath the countenance of a Man, but a most dreadful, one by the disproportion of all its parts; He is deaf, blind, dumb, ha∣ving great teeth in his mouth, by which he casts forth spittle, and breathes very strongly, rather then by the nose, which is close stop'd within. His mouth is otherwise useless, having never drunk nor eaten; nor hath he any place for evacuation of excre∣ments. His eyes are alwayes shut, and there appears no pupil in them. He hath but one thigh, one leg, and one foot, ex∣tremely ill shap'd, and not reaching to the knee of the other. But he hath two armes, very lean and disproportionate to the rest of the body; and at the end of each of them, instead of hands, a thumb and two fingers, very deformed too. At the bottome of his belly there is a little membranous appendix without a passage. His pulse is manifest in either arm, as also the beating of his heart, though the external figure of his breast, and the divarication of his jugular veines have very little of the ordinary structure and situation. Whereby it appears that each of them hath a brain, heart, and lungs distinct; but they have

both but one liver, one stomack, and one set of Intestines. For one of them sleepes sometimes while the other is awake; one hath been sick while the other hath been in health. The greater hath been blooded above twenty times in three grievous dis∣eases; but no Physitian hath ventur'd to purge him, lest the purgative medicament passing through those unusual windings should produce unusual effects to his prejudice. He lives after the common manner, exercising all his rational, vital, and natu∣ral faculties in perfection. And they who have been to see him in this City, (as almost every one runs to see this Wonder of Nature) may judge of his management and conduct of his affairs. Yet the negligence of the greater in supporting the less, and holding him in a convenient posture, is not to be pass'd over without notice; for though he breathes, as I said above, yet he alwayes keeps his head cover'd with a double linnen cloth, and his cloak; and although by his great weight he continually stretches the skin of his belly, yet he endeavours not to ease ei∣ther his Brother or himself. Yea, the custome of carrying this load hath render'd it so light to him, that he performes all ordi∣nary exercises, and playes at Tennis, like another Man. All which consider'd, it seemes this Monster is one of the most nota∣ble Errours of Nature that hath appear'd in this Age, and per∣haps in any preceding. Besides the causes alledg'd above, some extraordinary conjunction of the Stars happening at the time of his conception, may have had some influence in this irregular production. Moreover, it appears that the less draweth nour∣ishment from the greater by the Anastomosis, (or Insertion) of his Vessels with those of his Brother, as the Child sucks the Ma∣ternal Blood by the Ʋmbilical Vein; there being in both but one principle of sanguification. But it is otherwise as to Life, Motion, and Feeling, which being distinct in them, cannot pro∣ceed from one and the same principle.

The Fourth said, That it may be doubted whether this be a Monster or no, their union being not sufficient for that deno∣mination. For we frequently see two trees grow together in the middle; and otherwise separate. Nor is the deficiency of parts in the one any more monstrous, then if one single man should be born without Armes and Legs. Moreover he inhe∣rited the same from his Father, which doth not come to pass in Monsters.

The Fifth said, That according to Plato, the case is the same with Nature as with Virtue: All that exceeds their ordinary rules is called monstrous. As deformity of the Mind is Vice, so is also that of Nature; That the cause of this instance is like that of an Egg with a double yelk, out of which, the pellicles being broken that separated them, are produc'd two Chickens joyn'd together, or else one with four wings, four feet, or other such irregularities. So these Twins having been divided in the Womb at the place where they co-here, either by the acri∣mony

of humours or some other violent cause, Nature which loves nothing so much as Union, forthwith assembled its spirits and humours to unite that which was separated. Which design of Nature is apparent in the cure of wounds and burnes, the fingers and other parts uniting together one to the other, contra∣ry to its first intention, the figure, and use of the same parts. But the difficulty is, whether there be two Souls in these two Bodies. For my part, considering that they have two Brains, (wherein the Soul is held to reside) and the external humane shape, they may be rightly call'd two Men, who consequently have two Souls. Now if that which is in the less doth not ex∣ercise its functions, the reason is, because the Organs are not fitly dispos'd and proportion'd, no more then those of little Children, Ideots, and Mad men, and through this Nature's having been hinder'd by the rebellion of the Matter to receive such dis∣positions from the Agents, which are Heat and the Spirits: which also being too languishing, have not been able to impart to their subject all the degrees of necessary perfection.

The Sixth said, That he compar'd the framing of this Monster to the Workmanship of a piece of Tapistry, upon which two persons are imploy'd. The more diligent of the two finishes his task first; the more slothful finding all the material spent, is constrain'd to leave his business imperfect, and fasten it to the other as well as he can. So the spirits being in too great abun∣dance to attend the fabricating of one single Child, undertook two, and began each from the Head: The more vigorous had done first, and the other finding no more stuff made but half a Man, who by reason of the continuity of the Matter, became connected to the first. Now whereas it may be said that the Definition of Monsters brought by the Civilians doth not ap∣pertain to it, the answer is, That the same thing may be a Mon∣ster Physically, inasmuch as it deflecteth from the Laws of Na∣ture, as this doth, though it be not one Politically, in that it is capable to make a Will, Inherit, Contract, and to do all other Actions civil.

The Hour of Inventions was spent in Replies and Comparisons of other Monsters, particularly that of mention'd by Buchanan in the fifteenth Book of his History, born in Northumberland with two heads, four armes, two breasts, and onely two leggs; It was instructed in Musick, so that each head sung its part melo∣diously, and discours'd together pertinently. They dy'd, one fifteen dayes before the other, the latter by the putrefaction of his inseparable Companion. At length these two points were chosen. First, Of the Hairy Girl seen in this City. Secondly, Whether it be more difficult to resist Pleasure then Pain.

CONFERENCE XI.

I. Of the little Hairy Girl lately seen in this City. II. Whether it is more easie to resist Pleasure then Pain.

I. Of the Hairy Girl.

THe First said, That this German Girl, born at Ausperg, called Barbara Ʋrsine, (the Name and Sir-name very well suting to the person, if they were not invented purposely) is no Monster. For a Monster is desin'd, a Natural Effect, de∣generating from the right and usual frame or perfection essential to its species. But the same holdeth not in this person, who is onely an extraordinary effect of Nature, whereof two causes may be assign'd. First, the prevalence of internal heat, which more powerfully drives outwards the steames (or exhalations) that serve for the matter of Hair, and is also the cause that Children are sometimes born with Teeth. Whence it comes to pass, that Hair grows in more places, and more plentifully in those which are hot and dry. In like manner it hath been observ'd, that some notable Warriours and Pirats have had their Hearts hairy. The Second Cause is the strong Imagination of the Mother du∣ring her conceiving, or in the dayes near it; when the Embryo being like soft wax, is capable of every impression never so little proportionate to its subject; yea, sometimes it is so extravagant, that the effect cannot be attributed to any other cause. Such was that young Girl mention'd by Marcus Damascenus, and presented to the Emperour Charles IV. which, besides that she was all hairy like this, had the feet of a Camel; her Mother having too wistly consider'd the Image of Saint John Baptist clothed in Camel's hair: And this consideration satisfi'd the Fa∣ther, who at first disown'd her. The same was the Opinion of Hippocrates, when he sav'd the Honour and Life of a Princess who had brought forth an Aethiopian, through the too attentive minding of the picture of a Moor hanging at her beds-feet. Which mov'd Galen to advise such Ladies as would have fair Children, to behold those that are such frequently, at least in picture.

The Second said, That this Hair being an Effect against the Intention as well of Ʋniversal Nature, which could not de∣sign any profit from a bearded Woman, as of the particular Agents, which designed to produce an Individual like to one of themselves, according to the ordinary course; it follows that the Girl must be termed a Monster. The Cause whereof can∣not be the indisposition of the Matter, nor its too great quantity or deficience; since all the parts of this Child being well propor∣tioned, and her colour native, conclude and argue the same as to the humours of her Body. Yet it may well proceed from

some exorbitance in quality, not caus'd by the formative virtue, but by the Imagination of the Mother. For that of the Father con∣tributes nothing hereunto. That the Formative Virtue doth not the business, is prov'd, because the Hair is a fuliginous va∣pour arising from the more dry and earthy parts of the residue and excrement of the third Concoction, which is made in the parts, and the Expulsive Faculty casteth forth as useless and unsu∣table; the same arriving at the skin is imprison'd thereby the Cuticle; And Nature, which hath no further need of it, hinders its return. Now this Matter is forc'd to abide thus, till it make it self way through the Pores fram'd by its heat rarifying the skin. During its stay there it is concocted, incrassated, hard∣ened, and puts on the figure of the Pore through which it issu∣eth; As the soft Matter of Glass is incrassated by the heat, and takes the form of the mould in which it is formed. Hence it is, that they whose skin is tender have very soft Hair. For their skin being by reason of its great rarity unable to resist the least heat, easily opens its Pores, which thereby become very small to give the vapour passage; which vapour because it stay'd not long enough to be concocted and hardned, produceth very soft, gentle, and loose Hair. On the other, side in those whose skin is hard and dry, the resistance of the same causeth the inclosed heat to act more vehemently, and consequently to make greater Pores; through the which those vapours passing after a longer inclosure produce a Hair thicker, dryer, and harder, as having been more parched and adur'd. For the vapour is by this means thickned and hardned, like the smoak which is condens'd into soot in the Chimney. Now the Formative Virtue cannot be the cause of this production of Hair in all parts of the Body of this person. First, because heat, the cause efficient, is at that time too weak, through defect of which we see that a dozen or fifteen years after the birth, Hair is not produc'd even in Males. Se∣condly, the Matter of this little Body is too soft to furnish stuff dry enough for the making of that fuliginous vapour. It remain∣eth therefore that it be ascrib'd to the Imagination of the Mother; who being a Superior Agent, many times hinders the Formative Virtue from doing what it designeth. That she is Superior, it is true. For the Formative Virtue belongeth to the Vegetative Life; Man begetting onely as he is Vegetative (God alone begetteth by the Ʋnderstanding) but the Imagination is a Faculty of the Sensitive Life, and so subjecteth the less to it self; as the Agent which operateth by the Understanding makes use of that which operateth by Nature. So the Smith, though a mean Ar∣tisan, yet makes use of Fire, the most noble Elementary Agent, as a Slave. Now the Imagination acteth in this manner: It presents to the Woman some pleasing object, this object excites her Appetite; the Appetite by its dominion and command moves the Motive Faculty the performer of its pleasure. This Motive Faculty discharging its Office by the Spirits, which it sets in Motion, and

sends forth as it lists; And these Spirits having their Source and Original in the Brain, upon which the Phantasmes of the Ima∣gination are imprinted, it comes to pass that when a Child-bear∣ing Woman hath a lively representation or Imagination of the thing which she desires; those Spirits upon which the Image is imprinted, coming to be sent forth by the Motive Faculty, and separating from the rest of their troop which is in the Brain, carry along with them the said Image or Effigies. The same hapning in the Brain that doth in a Looking-glass, which being intire sheweth but one Object, but broken into a hundred pieces, every piece representeth the same whole. For the Nature of Species is of it self indivisible, and is not divided but because of the subject in which they are. So the Phantasme being in the Brain representeth but one and the same thing, but a part of the Spirits (upon which it is engraven) separating from thence carry the same along with them; And arriving with the blood and humours at the faetus, which incessantly draws them from the Mothers Bo∣dy by the Umbilical Veins, engrave upon it the Image configur'd to them.

The Third said, That he could not ascribe this Effect to the Imagination, no more then all other Monsters (because the Girl resembling neither Father nor Mother, seem'd to him by this uncouth and strange hairiness, to deserve the name of a Monster.) For:

First, The Imagination cannot produce any real Effect, the Intentions of Men produce nothing such; this belongs onely to the Deity.

Secondly, All the Animal Faculties being almost inter∣cepted in Generation, how can the Formative Faculty, which, according to Erastus, is the sole Agent, conceive and appre∣hend those Images and Representations? For there is little appearance that the formes of the Imagination are engraven upon Aerial Spirits in the same manner, that these of the Formative Faculty of the Heavens, or Ʋniversal Spirit, are imprinted in the Air, for the production of Mixt Bodies. For if it were so, then Children would have upon their Bodies marks or tokens of every thing that their Mothers had ardently desir'd and imagin'd, (and in their Imagination and desires they have no commenda∣tion for Constancy) by reason of the continual Agitation of their blood, which is incessantly attracted by the Foetus. So that we should see strange portraits of the Mothers Phancies upon the Infants Body; whereby would be sav'd much of the pains that Baptista Porta, takes in his Natural Magick, to teach how to pro∣duce Monsters. Moreover, as the Common Sense judgeth of the difference of Objects which it carrieth to the Imagination; so the Imagination retaineth not those Species, saving to present them to Reason, which judgeth and determineth upon them. Wherefore, if, for example, the Common Sense represents to the Imagnation a Centaur, or some other Monster, and the

Imagination represent the same to Reason, this Reason of ours will never allow or consent that the Formative Faculty attempt to bring it to effect.

The Fourth said, That he did not think this Girl ought to be termed a Monster, unless in the large signification of the word, as it comprehends every thing that is contrary to the intention of the agent, or is extraordinary. Thus Aristotle calls a Woman a Mon∣ster, and a fault of Nature, which always designes the making of a Male as the more perfect; which being unable to do, either in re∣gard of the disposition of the Agent, or of the Matter, she makes a Woman. And for the same reason he calls a Child, which doth not resemble its Father, a Monster, because the Father design'd to beget a Man like himself. But this person is not truly such, since she is faulty onely in the excess of superfluities or excrements, not of any part that varies the species: As one that voideth more ex∣crements then others, or hath greater Nails then usual, cannot be stil'd a Monster. Besides, what we account monstrous in this person, we have the same our selves. For were our Sight acute enough, we might see that there is no part of the Body but is cover'd with Hair, and perhaps not so fair and soft as hers; in which we find nothing extraordinary but in the length. For whereas she hath a light-colour'd beard of four or five fingers length, the cause thereof is, because the Hair is carefully shav'd off the rest of her countenance, which otherwise would be all of the same length. This Hair proceedeth from extreme Moisture, and Moderate Coldness; the former supplyeth the mat∣ter for its Generation, and the latter helpeth the Action of Heat, by the occlusion of the Pores which it causeth. So that if among Children, which (according to Hippocrates) are more humid then those who have attain'd to Adolescence, there be found any who have such a degree of Coldness as is able to support the root of the Hair by condensing the skin, it will grow in all parts of the Body, though unequally, according to the difference of humour.

The Fifth said, That besides the Imagination already alledg'd, (which caus'd Perfina Queen of Ethiopia to bring forth a white Daughter, and a Woman in our time to bring forth a Child like a Frog, by having held a Frog in her hand for some disease) this Hair proceeds from a certain temper proper for producing the same; which temper is found in this little person, as it is in other persons in some places onely, and at a certain Age. This temper seemes to be cold; for we see that Men and other Crea∣tures are most hairy in the coldest Countries, and cold hath a great influence upon Hair; some persons having in one night had their Hair extremely grown and chang'd through an excess of fear, and consequently of cold; for fear causeth all the heat of the external parts to retire inwards. As it hapned to a Gentleman of twenty eight years old, who being condemned to death for an Adultery committed in the Palace of Charles V.

the next morning was found all white in the Prison; whereupon the Emperour granted him his pardon: As the Grandfather of the same Emperour did formerly upon the same account to a Spaniard nam'd Osorio. The like hapned to an other in shorter time, who found the rope begin to break by which he was let down by the side of a steep rock to get an airy of Hawks. Now this great abundance of Hair cannot proceed from extreme Humidity; for then it must either be radical, and consequently mild, and no sit Matter for Hair; or else adventitious, sharp, and corroding, which would destroy their root. Besides, it is not credible that so little a Body as this can afford so much excrementitious matter. Nor can it proceed from excess of Heat; for we see heat makes Hair to shed in those that have a burning Fever or a Hectick, and the Hair and Nails grow in dead bodies which have no natural heat.

II. Whether it be harder to resist Pleasure then Pain.

Upon the Second Point, it was said, That if Pleasure be consider'd as a Good, and Pain as an Evil, it is not to be doubted but that the latter is as insupportable to our Nature, as the former is agreeable to it. But there are two sorts of Good and Evil, of Pain and Pleasure: One of the Mind, and another of the Body; and many times the pains and sufferings of the Body are the joyes of the Mind; and the pleasures and the gratifications of the flesh, the crosses and torments of the Spirit. Now there are scarce any pure and unmixt pleasures or pains in the world, but they are usually mingled one with the other: And if they could be separated, Pain would turn the scale, as being the more heavy and difficult to be supported. In reference to which mix∣ture, the Greek Poet judiciously feigned, that there are two vessels at the entrance of Heaven, one full of Honey and sweet∣ness, the other of Gall and bitterness. Of which two Liquors mingled together Jupiter makes all men to drink, and tempers with them every thing that he pours down here below. So that the Pains and Pleasures of the Mind or the Body, being mo∣derate and indifferently temper'd with each of those Liquors may be supported by Men; Pleasure and Good, (as the more natural) much more easily then Evil and Pain, which are destru∣ctive to Nature. But when both of them are extreme, and the sweetness of Pleasures and contentments is not abated by some little gall, nor the bitterness of displeasures sweetned by some little Honey, then Men cannot rellish this Potion; because they are not accustom'd to things pure and sincere, but to confusion and mixture; and cannot bear the excess of Grief or Joy, the ex∣tremities of which are found to be fatal. As first, for Grief, Licinius finding himself condemn'd for the crime of Cheating the pub∣lick, dy'd with regret; Q. Fabius, because he was cited before the Tribunes of the People for violating the Law of Nations: Julia, Caesar's Daughter, at the sight of the bloody garments of her Husband Pompey; And in the last Age, one of the Sons of

Gilbert Duke of Montpensier, going into Italy, dy'd with resent∣ment at Puzzole, upon the Sepulchre of his Father, whom he went thither to see. Then for Joy, Diagoras Rhodius, seeing his three Sons victorious in one day at the Olympick Games, dy'd with Joy. The same Fate befell Chilo the Lacedemonian, upon the same victory of one of his Sons. Dionysius the Tyrant of Sicily, and the Poet Sophocles, having heard that they had won the bayes for Tragedies, dy'd both immediately; And so did the Poet Philippides upon winning that for Comedies. The Painter Zeuxis having made the portraiture of an old woman very odly, dy'd with laughing at it. To which Paulus Jovins produces two like examples of later date; one of Sinas, Gene∣ral of the Turk's Gallies, upon the recovery of his onely Son whom he accounted lost, and the other of Leo X. upon the taking of Milain, which he had passionately desir'd; both of which dy'd for Joy. Thus each of these Passions have great resemblance in their excesses. They equally transport a Man beyond the bounds of Reason; The one by its pleasingness makes him for∣get himself, the other by its bitterness leads him to despair. Grief destroyes Life, either by the violent agitation of the Spirits, or by their condensation, which stopping the passages hinders respiration; From whence follows suffocation and death. Pleasure and Joy produce the same effect by contrary causes, namely by too great a dilatation of the Spirits, which causes weakness, and that weakness death. It may be doub∣ted under which rank they ought to be plac'd who dye for Love: But the sweetness of this kind of death is too much ex∣toll'd by the Poets, that being to choose (said he) I should prefer it before the others.

The Second said, They who dye for Joy are of a soft temper and rare contexture, and their Hearts being too easily dilated and expanded by it, the Spirits evaporating leave the same destitute of strength; and so the Ventricles close together, and they perish under this Passion. On the contrary, they who dye with grief and sadness have the Pores more closed, but are of a very hot temper, which requires room and freedom for the dilatation of the Heart, which becoming compress'd by sadness, (which, like Fear, stops and refrigerates, and renders the Spirits too much throng'd ad condens'd among themselves) the Spirits having their avenues obstructed, and their commerce with the Air hindred, stifle the Heart. That nevertheless the Passions of Joy are much less then those of Grief, because Evil more vehe∣mently moves the Appetite then Good. For Grief destroyes the simple and absolute Existence of a thing. Pleasure brings onely a transient and casual effect, and is but a redundancy or surplus¦age. An Animal hath its perfect essence without it, but Grief puts its Being into evident danger, and changes it essentially. II. The preservation of an Animal, for which Nature endu'd it with the Passion of Grief, is the highest internal end; whereunto

also Pleasure is ordain'd as a means; the pleasure of the Taste for the preservation of the Individual; that of the Touch, for the preservation of the species. In fine, Delectation is a Female Passion, or rather but half a Passion; for when its Object is present, it is languid and asswag'd, and hath no more but a bare union with the Object, that is, the present Good, which is rather a Rest then a Motion of the Sensitive Appetite: Whereas Grief, which respects a present Evil, is not onely redoubled by the presence of the same, but summons all the other Passions to its Relief, Anger, Audacity, Courage, and all the Faculties to revenge it self.

The Third said, That if we consider these two Passions, as streams running within their ordinary channels, and do not re∣spect their inundations, then Grief seemes to be more powerful then Joy; for it causeth us to break through all difficulties that might stop us, it rallies the Forces of Nature (when there needs any extraordinary performance) gives Armes to extremities, and renders Necessity the Mistress of Fortune. On the contrary, Pleasure and Joy abate the greatness of the Courage, enfeeble a Man by exhausting his Spirits, and emptying his Heart too much thereof.

The Fourth said, Pleasure and Grief are two Passions of the Concupiscible Appetite, the former of which is the perception of an agreeable Object, the latter of a displeasing one. For all Sen∣sation is made by a Mutation, and that either from Good to Evil, (whence ariseth Grief, and if it persisteth, Sadness;) or from Evil to Good, whence springeth Pleasure, which if it be lasting, causeth Joy: which are to be carefully distinguish'd. They easily succeed, set off, and give conspicuousness one to the other. Socrates would never have found pleasure in scratching the place where his fetters fastned his Legs, if he had not borne those shackles a long time in Prison. Their vehemence hath commonly reference to the Temper. Pleasure hath more dominion over the Sanguine. The Melancholy Man makes more reflexion upon Grief. But considering them absolutely, it seemes to me more difficult to support Ease then Disease, Joy then Sadness, Pleasure then Grief. First, because Hope, the harbinger of good and contentment, hath greater effects then Fear which fore-runs Evil, and causeth to undertake greater things; for all glorious and Heroical Actions have Hope for their impulsive cause; whereras, commonly, Fear produceth none but servile Actions. Secondly, a Passion is term'd strong or violent, when by the impression of the species of the Object first upon the Senses, and then upon the Phancy, it becometh so much Mistress of Reason that it hinders the Man from freely exercising the functions of knowing aright and doing aright. Now Pleasures and Content∣ments cause Men not to know themselves, but to forget God, and run into Vices; whereas Grief and Afflictions usually retain them within their duty, in the Fear of God, and in the exercise of the

Virtues of Patience, Obedience, and Humility. Many persons have bravely and couragiously resisted torments, and yet yield∣ed to Pleasure. And that Emperour of whom Saint Hierome speaks in his Epistles, desiring at any rate to make a young Christian sin, that he might afterwards avert him from the true Religion; and finding that he had to no purpose employ'd tor∣tures and other cruelties upon him, at length shook him by the allurements of two immodest Women; whose embraces he be∣ing unable longer to resist or fly from, because he was bound with soft fetters, he had recourse to grief, biting his Tongue in two with his Teeth, which were alone at liberty, to mode∣rate the excess of pleasure by that pain. In fine, as Enemies hid under the mask of Friends are more to be fear'd then open Ene∣mies; So Grief, though a manifest Enemy to our Nature, yet is not so much to be dreaded as Pleasure, which under a false mask and pretext of kindness, insinuates its sweet poyson into us; And (as of old the Psylli poyson'd Men by commending them) becomes Mistress of the Man, and blindes his Reason. Wherefore Aristotle considering the power of Pleasure, counsels him that would resist it, not to behold its fore-part as it presents it self to us, but the hinder-part when it parts from us, and for all recompence leaves us nought but a sad repentance.

At the Hour of Inventions many wayes were spoken of condu∣cing to the production or hindrance of Hair, as also to the chang∣ing of its colour; and some of the chief stupifyers were menti∣on'd that serve to asswage Grief or Pain. After which these two Points were chosen for that day seven-night. First, Of three Suns appearing at the same time. Secondly, Whether it be possible to love without interest, and without making reflection upon one's self.

CONFERENCE XII.

I. Of Three Suns. II. Whether an Affection can be without Interest.

I. Of three Suns.

HE that spake first, said, That the occasion of this Discourse of three Suns, was the report that in August last, upon the day of our Ladies Assumption, there appeared three in a Village within two Leagues of Vernevil in Normandy. But lest any should attribute the cause thereof to what Virgil saith made two Suns, and two Cities of Thebes appear to Pentheus; we read in the first book of the fifth Decade of Titus Livius's History, that there appear'd three Suns of Rome, during the War against Per∣seus King of Macedonia, and the night following many burning torches, (Faces Ardentes, a kind of Meteor) fell down in the

territory of Rome, which was then afflicted with a raging Pesti∣lence. The same hapned again when Cassius and Brutus were overthrown, when the Civil Wars were between Augustus and Antonius; and under the Emperor Claudius. But the most re∣markable were those two which appear'd under the Empire of Vitellius; one in the East, and the other in the West. I come now to inquire into the Causes. For if it be true that Man alone was created with a Countenance erected towards Heaven, on purpose to contemplate its Wonders; I conceive there are none more admirable then Meteors, so nam'd by reason of the ele∣vated aspect of Men when they admire them: and amongst those Meteors there is none more excellent then that Triple Sun, if the Copies resemble their Original, the most admirable of all the Coelestial Bodies. Nevertheless, Reason given Man by God to render the most strange things familiar to him, finds more fa∣cility in the knowledge of these, then of many other things which are at our feet; and that by Induction, which it draws from Examples. The Sun, as every other Body, fills the Air with its Images or Species, which pass quite through the same, unless they be reflected by some Body smooth and resplendent in its sur∣face, but opake at the bottome; Such are Looking-glasses, and Water, whether it be upon the Earth or in the Clouds. Now when a smooth Cloud that is ready to fall down in rain, happens to be opposite against the Sun, (being terminated either by its own profundity, or some other opake body) it represents the figure or image of the Sun; and if there happen to be another opposite to this first, it reflecteth the figure in the same manner; As a Looking-glass opposite to that wherein we look receives the species from the former, and represents the same; And if we be∣lieve Seneca, there is nothing less worthy of admiration: For if no body wonders to see the representation of the Sun here below in clear Water, or any other resplendent body, it ought to be no greater marvel that the same Sun imprints his image as well on high as below, not in one Cloud, or two onely, but also in many, as Pliny affirms that himself beheld. This multiplicity of Suns (which are call'd Parhelij) happens usually but either at the rising or at the setting of the Sun. First, because the Refraction, which is necessary for seeing them, is not so well made to our eyes, which is more remote when the Sun is in the Meridian. Secondly, because when the Sun is in the Meridian he is more hot, and allows not the Cloud time to stay, but dis∣solves it as soon as it becomes opposite to him; which he doth not at his rising or setting, being then more weak. The same Cause that shews us three Suns hath also represented three Moons under the Consulship of Cn: Domitius, and C. Faminus; as also three other which appear'd in the year 1314. after the death of S. Lewis, three moneths together. Which impression is called Paraselene, and cannot be made but at full Moon.

The Second said, That Parhelij do not onely appear upon the

Clouds, or at Sun-rise and Sun-set, as the common opinion im∣porteth; for in the year 1629. on the twentieth of March, the day of the Vernal Equinox, four Parhelij appear'd at Rome,* 1.5 about the true Sun, between Noon and one a clock, the Heaven being clear and the Sun encompass'd with a double Crown, of a deeper colour then those which are seen sometimes about the Moon, and are found in the circumference of a Rain-bow whose Circle is perfect. Two of those false Suns occupi'd the intersections of the Solary Crown and the Iris, and two others were opposite to the former in the same circumference of the Iris. Yet, in my judgement, this cause may be rendred of these five Suns. As in the Night, when the Air appears serene, we many times see that the Moon radiating upon the Air of the lower Region, which is more thick then the superior, by reason of va∣pours and exhalations, formes about it self a great bright Crown of about forty five degrees diametre; which space is fit for the reflecting and uniting of the Lunar rayes to the Eye, and by such reflection and union to cause the appearance of that Crown: So also when the lower Region is full of vapours and exhalations, which have not been dissipated by the Sun, either because of their great quantity or viscosity, or else of the coldness of the Air, they render the Air more dense, though serene in appearance, and so more proper to receive the like impressions of the Sun. In the same manner were the Crown and the Iris produc'd; for they were form'd by a reflection and refraction of the Solar rayes, and consequently at the intersection of the Iris, and the Crown, there was a double reflection and refraction. Whence at the the said intersection appear'd two false Suns sufficiently bright, by the new reflection of which upon the same circumference of the Iris, were formed two other Suns of less brightness.

The Third said, That this plurality of Suns ought to be at∣tributed to a reflection of the species of the true Sun receiv'd in some Stars so oppos'd to him that they send back his light and species, and the concurse of those reflected rayes, causes those mas∣ses of light to appear in the centres of concave bodies that reflect them; which cannot be Clouds, because they are neither smooth nor opake, nor void of colour; the three accidents necessary for reflection. Moreover, the Clouds cannot receive his species up∣on their uppermost surface, for then they could not reflect it; nor upon their lowermost or interior surface; for this cannot receive it, unless it be reflected from the Water, and then we should not see those Suns in the Air, but in the Water: Nor lastly, upon one side, because then the Spectator must not be upon the Earth, but in a line perpendicular to the diametre of the side of the Cloud; according to the doctrine of the Catoptricks.

The Fourth said, That the Clouds being polite or smooth when they are turn'd into Water, and their profundity serving instead of opacity (as we see in deep Waters, which our sight is unable to penetrate) they remit the species presented to them;

And the same may happen in the Air when it is condens'd. Whence, as Aristotle reports, many have seen their own Images in the Air; and some affirm, that they have seen whole Cities so, particularly Avignon.

The Fifth said, That the Viscosity into which the aqueousness of those Clouds had degenerated when those four Parhelij ap∣pear'd at Rome, was the cause not onely of their appearance, but also of their subsistence at mid-day. To the which also, more concocted and condens'd, must those three Suns ascrib'd which were observ'd in Spain, Anno 753. for the space of three years; and the three others that appear'd over the City of Theo∣dosia, on the twenty ninth of October, 1596. from Sun-rise to Sun-set.

The Sixt said, That all these difficulties inclin'd him to attri∣bute Parhelij to one or more Clouds round and resplendent like the Sun. For what unlikelihood is there that an unctuous ex∣halation may be elevated in the Air in a round figure, which be∣ing inflam'd on all sides, equally may represent by its light that of the Sun; seeing Nature is much more ingenious then Art, which represents him at pleasure by artificial fires; and we be∣hold even from the surface of the Earth, up to the Orbes of the Planets igneous bodies of all figures and colours, and those of very long continuance.

II. Whether any Love be without self interest.

Upon the Second Point, the First said, That 'tis not without a mystery that Plato in his Convivium, makes two Cupids; one the Son of Venus Coelestial, the other the Son of the common or Terrestrial Venus; intimating thereby that there are two sorts of Love; one vile and abject, which is that of Concupiscence, whereby a Man loves that which is agreeable to him for his own interest, the other divine and perfect, wherewith we love a thing for it self: which kind is very rare. And therefore Hesiod makes it to be born of the Chaos and the Earth, to intimate that it is difficult to meet any that is pure and without any interest. The Ancients have also made two Loves; one of Plenty, Abun∣dance, by which the Perfect loves the Imperfect, to communi∣cate thereunto what it wanteth; the other of Indigence, which the Defective hath towards the Perfect, that it may be made perfect by it. The former is that of God towards his Creatures; the latter, that of Creatures towards God. And as for that which is found between Creatures, it is more or less excellent ac∣cording as it partaketh of the one or the other. But to speak ge∣nerally, it is more noble to be lov'd then to love, as it is more ex∣cellent to be sought to then to seek to another, to give then to receive.

The Second said, That there are two sorts of Love, the one of Friendship, the other of Desire. The former causeth us to love things, because they are worthy of it; the latter, because they are convenient for us. The first is not onely possible, but

more natural then the second. For the Love of Friendship is direct, that of Concupiscence is onely by reflection. Now that which is direct is in the date of Nature before the reflected, the stroke is before the rebound, the voice before the Echo, and the Ray before the reverberation. For Reflection is a re-plica∣tion or re-doubling of a thing. That the Love of Desire is such, I manifest. It is with our Knowledge as with our Love. A Man knows himself less easily then he doth others, because he knows all things else by a direct action, and himself by reflection. He sees every thing directly, but he cannot see himself saving in a Looking-glass. And for that nothing enters into him but pas∣seth through the Senses, it is requisite that that which is in him come forth to re-enter again by the Senses, and pass into the Mind. For all Knowledge is by Assimilation; as, that I may see, the pupil of my Eye must have the Image of the thing which I would see, and so become like to it. Now all resemblance is between things that are distinct. So that if the Mind of Man is to know any thing of it self, that thing must be abstracted and se∣ver'd from him, that it may be made like to him, and consequent∣ly cannot enter into his Knowledge but by reflection, in which the species loseth of its virtue; as we see in the Echo, which is never so natural as the voice which it imitates, nor the Object in the Looking-glass as the first Object. The case is the same in Love: For by it we love things before we desire them. Which is evident both in respect to the Object, and also to the Act of Love. Its Object, Good, includeth two things; First, its Na∣ture of Good, which is an Entity consider'd in it as conducing to the perfection of the thing wherein it is; And Secondly, its communicability, or relation to other things capable of receiving its diffusion. The former is the foundation and efficient emana∣tive cause of the other, which is onely a Propriety, and conse∣quently less natural; because posterior and subservient to the former. Moreover, Love taken as an act of the Will hath the same effect; according to which it is defin'd an adequateness, conformity and correspondence of our heart to the thing, and an approbation and complacency in the goodness which is in the Object; which our Mind judging good in this manner; First, Loves it in it self with a Love of Friendship, and then afterwards judging it amiable, applies it to it self and desires it. So that there is a two-fold convenience or agreableness in every thing that is lov'd, even with the Love of Concupiscence. First, the convenience of the Good with its proper subject: And Secondly, the convenience of the same Good with the thing or person whereunto it is desired. The first convenience excites the Love of Friendship: The second that of Concupiscence. Wherefore it is more natural to Love without Interest, then for it. Besides, Love follows Knowledge, and we know things simply and in themselves, sooner then such as are compounded and refer'd to another. Lastly, the Love of Friendship is the end of the mo∣tions

of our Hearts which acquiesce and stop there. The Love of Concupiscence is for the means which are posterior in the in∣tention of Nature, and as servants employ'd for the End.

The Third said, That Love being one of the most noble acts of the Will, or rather of the Soul, which is created after the Image of God, it hath some lineaments of that Divine Love. Now God loves all things for his own sake. In like manner we see all rea∣sonable Creatures have an instinct and sympathy to such as are convenient to themselves, and an abhorrence or antipathy to their contraries. Moreover, the Nature of Good, which is the Object of Love, shews that Love always precisely regards him that loves; there being no Absolute Good, but all is with conveni∣ence or relation, without which it would not move us to affect it. For no Love can be assign'd, how perfect soever, in which the person that loves hath not some interest. Q. Curtius deliver'd Rome from an infection of the Pestilence, by plunging himself into a great Vorago in the Earth; but it was with a desire of glory, and to be talk'd of. A Father loves his Children, but it is that he may perpetuate himself in them. We love Virtue for the sweetness and delectation which it brings with it; yea, even Martyrs offer themselves couragiously to death, that they may live eternally with him for whose sake they suffer. And if seeing two Men play at Tennis, both of them alike unknown unto me, I yet wish that one may win rather then the other; this proceeds from some convenience or agreeableness between us two, though the reason of it be not then manifest to me.

The Fourth said, That Disinterested Love, which is the true, intirely terminates in the thing lov'd purely and simply for the natural and supernatural goodness which is in it. But that which reflects upon the person who loves for his Honour, Profit, or Pleasure, is false and vicious. Now although since the depra∣vation of our Nature by sin the former sort of Love be very difficult, yet is it not impossible. For since there is a Relative Love, there must also be an Absolute, which serves for a contra∣ry to the other. It is much more hard to love an Enemy (a thing commanded by God) then to love another with a Disinteressed Love. And though it be true that Pleasure is so essential to Love that it is inseparable from it, (whence one may infer that such Pleasure is an interest) yet provided he who loves doth it not with reflection to his Pleasure, or for the Pleasure which he takes in loving, his Love is pure and simple, and void of all interest. So, though he who loves, goes out of himself to be united to the thing lov'd, (which is the property of Love) and becomes a part of the whole which results from that union, and conse∣quently interessed for the preservation of the same: Neverthe∣less, provided he do not reflect upon himself, as he is a part of that whole, his love is always without interest.

The fifth said, That as Reflex Knowledge is more excellent and perfect then direct; So reflected Love, which is produc'd

by knowledge of the merits and perfections of the thing lov'd, is more noble and judicious then that which is without any re∣flection and interest. Gods Love towards Men ought to serve them for a rule. Therefore Plato saith, that when God design'd to create the World, he transform'd himself into Love, which is so much interessed, that he hath made all things for his own Glory.

The Sixth said, That true Love is (like Virtue) contented with it self; and he that loves any thing for his particular inter∣est doth not properly love that thing, but himself, to whom he judgeth it sutable. In which respect Saint Bernard calls such kind of Love mercenary and illegitimate; because true and pure Love is contented simply with loving; and though it deserves re∣ward, yet that is not its motive, but the sole consideration of the excellence and goodness of the thing lov'd. Nor is this true Love so rare as is imagin'd, there being examples of it found in all conditions of Men. Cleomenes King of Lacedaemon disguis'd himself on purpose to be slain, as accordingly he was; thereby to expiate to the Fate which was destinated to the loss either of the Chiestain or his Army. Gracchus dy'd that his Wife Cornelia might live. The Wife of Paetus slew her self for company, to sweeten death to her Husband. Histories are full of Fathers and Mothers that have prefer'd their own death before that of their Children.

At the Hour of Inventions, One offering to speak of Amulets, Philtres, and other means to procure Love, and mentioning the Hippomanes, or flesh which is found in the fore-head of a young Colt (whereof Virgil speaks) he was interrupted by this inti∣mation; That the two most effectual means for causing Love were the graces of the Body and the Mind, and to love those by whom we would be lov'd. And these two points were propound∣ed. First, Whether Melancholy persons are the most ingenious. Se∣condly, Which is most necessary in a State, Reward or Punishment.

CONFERENCE XIII.

I. Whether Melancholy Persons are the most ingeni∣ous or prudent. II. Which is most necessa∣ry in a State, Reward or Punishment.

I. Whether Me∣lancholy Men are the most ingenious.

THe First said, That (according to Galen,) Humane Actions (to speak naturally) depend on the complexion or com∣position of the Humours. Which Opinion hath so far prevail'd, that in common Speech, the words Nature, Temper, and Humour, signifie not onely the Inclination, but the Aptitude and Disposition of persons to any thing. So we say Alexander the Great was of

an Ambitious and Martial Nature, Mark Anthony of an Amorous Temper, Cato of a severe Humour. Of the Humours, Melan∣choly (whereof we are to speak) is divided into the Natural, wherewith the Spleen is nourish'd, and that which is Preterna∣tural, called Atrabilis, or black choler. The one is like to a Lee or Sediment, the other to the same Lee burnt, and is caus'd by the adustion of all the Humours, whereof the worst is that which is made of choler. Again, it is either innate, or acquir'd, by abuse of the six things which we call Non-natural, as Im∣prisonment, solitary and gloomy places, immoderate watchings, Agitations and Motions of Body and Mind, especially Sadness and Fear, immoderate fasting, the use of base and black Wines, gross food, as Pulse, Coleworts, Beef, especially salted, and Animals that have black hair, such as are the Stag, the Hare, and all Water fowle. Aristotle conceiv'd that this Natural Melan∣choly was the fittest humour to make Men ingenious; as he treats at large in his Problemes, and shews that the greatest persons that have excell'd in Philosophy, Policy, Poetry, and other Arts, have partaken most of it; yea, of the atribilarious Humour, as Hercules, Ajax, and Bellerophon. And before him Hippocrates, in his Book De Flatibus, saith, That nothing contri∣butes more to Prudence then the blood in a good consistence, as the Melancholy Humour is. Galen will have Dexterity to proceed from Choler, Integrity and Constancy from Melan∣choly. The first reasons are taken from the similitude which Melancholy hath with Wine I. First, as Wine is stronger upon its Lee, and keeps longer; so is the blood upon Melancholy. II. The Spirit which is drawn from Wine mingled with its Lee, is far better then that which is drawn from Wine alone. So the Spirits which proceed from blood joyn'd with Melancholy, are much more vigorous thereby. III. As it easier to leap on high when one hath his foot upon firm ground, then in a fluid place; So Melancholy being more firm then the other Humours makes the Spirits bound the higher, and they are also better reflected; as the rayes of the Sun are better reflected by the Earth then by the Water. IV. Melancholy persons have a stronger Imagination, and so more proper for the Sciences; because Knowledge is acquir'd by the reception of Phantasines into the Imagination. V. Old Men, who are prudent, are Melancholy. Whence came that saying, The prudent Mind is in a dry Body. And the blood of studious and contemplative persons becomes dry and Melancholy by study. Therefore Plato said, That the Mind begins to flourish when the Body is pass'd its flower. In fine, the Melancholy are very patient, and are not discourag'd by any obstacles which they meet with: And as they are very slow in taking resolutions, so when they are once taken, they perform them notwithstanding what ever difficulties they en∣counter therein.

The Second said, He could not conceive how this Humour

which causeth the greatest diseases in the Spleen, and in the Veins, the Hypochondriacal Dotage, and the Quartan Ague; in any part the Scirrhus and the Cancer; and in the whole Body the Leprosie and other incurable diseases, should increase Wit and contribute to Prudence. For considering it even in its natural constitution, it renders those in whom it predominates, of a leaden colour, pensive, solitary, slow in motion, sad and timerous; and causes them to have a small Pulse, which is an argment of the weakness of their Spirits. On the contrary, the Sanguine Humour, opposite to it, hath none but commendable signes and effects; a rosey colour, a cheerful aspect; a sociable humour, an active promptitude; In brief, all actions in perfection. Whence it fol∣lows that the Humours of a well temper'd Man being more ex∣quisite, the Spirits which proceed from purer blood must be al∣so more more refin'd.

The Third Said, That to know whether the Melancholy Temper be most proper for Prudence, it behoveth to con∣sider the nature both of Prudence and of Melancholy, and see how they agree together. Prudence is the Habit of acting accord∣ing to Reason: Whereunto is requisite a clear Knowledge of the End of Man and of his actions, as also of the Means which con∣duce to that end, together with an integrity and firmness of Mind to guide a Man in the election and practice of those means. Wherefore it is not without good reason that Prudence is ac∣counted the Queen and Rule of all Virtues, and that all of them are but species or kinds of Prudence: Whence he that hath all the Virtues, and hath not Prudence, cannot be said to have any Virtue. For indeed it is to Action, what Sapience or Wisedom is to Contemplation. Melancholy not-natural, which becometh such by adustion of the natural, of the Blood, Choler, and salt Flegme, is easily inflam'd, and being inflam'd renders Men furi∣ous; and so is very contrary to Prudence, which requires a great tranquillity and moderation of Mind, for right judging of the End of things, and of the Means to attain thereunto. Choler indeed makes good Wits capable of well judging of the End and the Means; yea, it gives Courage for the execution: But the bi∣lious Spirits are usually fickle, and want constancy in resolutions, and patience in executions; which defects are very remote from Prudence. The Flegmatick have, as we say, (ny bouche ny esperon) neither counsel nor dispatch: They are dull both of Body and Mind, and incapable of understanding and performing well. The Sanguine have Wit good enough, and gentle qualities; but they they are too sensual and tender, by reason of the softness and mildness of the numour, which ought to be moderated in a Prudent Man. But Natural Melancholy gives a solid Judgement, Gravity, Constancy, Patience and Temperance, which are the principal pillars of Prudence. So then, the Melancholy Temper alone is proper for it, and of the rest that which nearest approach∣eth it, namely the Sanguine. Now every Temper being com∣pounded

of the Four Humours, that in which Blood and Natural Melancholy predominate, will be the most proper of all for Prudence. For these two Humours make a very perspicacious Wit, and a profound and solid Judgement. Melancholy when mo∣derately heated by the Blood and Choler, carries a Man to under∣take and execute boldly and confidently, because it is with know∣ledge of the End and Means. Thus I have given you the Common Opinion. But I esteem it absurd to believe that the Elementary Qualities cause such noble Effects as the Inclinations to Prudence, Magnanimity, Justice, and other Virtues. For they are caus'd by the Influence of the Stars, as is found most evidently in Na∣tivities, by which, without seeing the person or his temper, one may tell his Inclinations. But because in every Generation the superior and inferior causes concur together, and the temper al∣most alwayes corresponds to the Influences; thence Aristotle and Galen (who understood not the true Science of Coelestial Pow∣ers) have affirm'd, (the former in his Physiognomy) That the Manners of Man follow his Temper; And the latter, That the Temperament is by it self the first and true efficient cause of all the actions of the mixt Body, and consequently of the Manners of a Man: Whereby they ascribe that to the Temper which ought to be attributed onely to the Influences. And indeed, the Hermetick Philosophy assignes to the Elementary Qualities no other Virtues, but of heating, cooling, moistning, drying, con∣densing, and rarifying. Now according to Astrologers, Pru∣dence is from the influence of Saturn and Jupiter, (who preside over Melancholly and Blood) according as those Planets reign, or favourably regard all the points of the Ascendant and the Middle of Heaven in the Nativity; which are the principal significators of the inclinations and actions of a Man.

The Fourth said, That to attribute that property and Virtue to the Humours to make Men wise and intelligent, is to prejudice the Rational Soul, which being immaterial needeth no material instrument for the performing of its actions; but as it is wholly Divine and the Image of God, it is perfectly intelligent of its own Nature, and by Reason the noblest of its Faculties, of it self knows what ever is most hidden in Nature. For if the actions of Knowledge and Prudence depend on the Temper of the Humours, then that which now produceth ratiocination in me should have been the food which I took yesterday: And so those things, which, whilst they were alive, had no other actions but vegetative or sensitive, should, when they are dead, produce intellectual. The Spirits alone put our Humours in motion and action; and when those fail, these remain without any Virtue. Nevertheless those Spirits (onely the vehicles of the Rational Soul) are not the Cause either of Knowledge or Prudence, but onely of Life: much less can those excellent Qualities be attri∣buted to the Humours.

II. Whether is more neces∣sary in a State Re∣ward or Pu∣nishment.

Upon the Second Point, the First said, That Reward and Punishment are the two pillars of a State; one for the satisfying of Merit, and encouraging Men to Virtue; the other for re∣straining Malefactors, and turning them from Vice. That con∣sequently they are both necessary, and almost inseparable. Never∣theless Reward seemes to have some degree of necessity above the other; because though Punishment, with its eight species, (which are Fine, Imprisonment, Stripes, Retaliation, Ignominy, Banishment, Servitude, and Death,) serves for Example and for satisfaction to Distributive Justice, (whose end is to extinguish Crimes and reform them) and secure the Good against the Bad; (whence the Wise-man commandeth Magistrates to break off Iniquity, and govern with a rod of Iron) yet is it not good in all times, nor in all places. And Sylla did prudently in not punishing his Souldiers, who slew the Praetor Albinus in a Sedi∣tion. On the contrary, Reward is alwayes necessary, and every where welcome, being the wages of Virtue, as the other is of Vice. 'Tis for that the Labourer cultivates the Earth, that the Souldier goes to the War, and that good Wits employ their time in excellent and profitable inventions. Darius preserv'd his Kingdom by having rewarded Zopyrus; And on the contrary, Philip lost the City of Damas for want of gratifying Milesius, by whose means he had won it. So that it is with good reason that Pliny saith, in his Panegyrick, That the recompences of good and bad deeds make Men good or bad.

The Second said, That in the beginning of the World, when our Nature was created in the perfection of a lust Aequilibrium, we had on the one side the inferior part of the Soul wholly sub∣ject to the superior; and on the other this superior Soul abso∣lutely submissive to the Divine Will. But the first Man having broken that Aequilibrium by his sin, and turn'd the balance to∣wards the side of Evil; this Counterpoise, which like infectious Leven is left in the flesh of Adam, hath given us all a tendency and inclination to Evil. Hence it is that Men are lead into all sorts of Vices; and because 'tis the property of sin to blind the Mind, and cloud the Memory with the Reason; they have also forgotten the way which they ought to keep, that they might live like reasonable Men. For remedy whereof, not onely God, who from all Eternity purposed our Reparation, but also Men most vers'd in the knowledge of Good and Evil have esta∣blish'd Laws, to restore Man to his Aequilibrium, and contain him in his duty both towards God and Humane Society. But because Original Sin powerfully inclines us to Evil from our Nativitie, and it is very rare, if not impossible, to find any one that erres and perseveres so wilfully without fear or hope; there∣fore God and Kings have appointed two powerful counterpoises, Rewards and Punishments; the former, for good and virtuous actions, the latter, for the Transgression of their Laws. Since

then Punishment is onely for Transgression of Laws, and Reward for those who besides observing them, proceed further to virtuous actions and such as are profitable to the publick; It is certain, the former of the two is most necessary in a State, as that to which Men are most prone. For it is most true, that Men are naturally more inclin'd to Evil then to Good, because they are corrupted by Original Sin; and we know the most part would willingly desire to grow great by the loss of others, and to plunge themselves in Pleasures and Riches, if they were not restrain'd by the rigor of Laws. This is further confirmed, because the Laws of Men are better observed then the Divine Laws; not but that Men are as ready to infringe those, as these of God, who forbears and is patient after the sin of Man; but because the penalties of Humane Laws are appointed for this Life, and we behold Criminals publickly executed. Wherefore Punishment is the most necessary in a State. Nevertheless Re∣ward is not unprofitable, because it serves to excite to well doing, and is frequently propos'd in the Divine Laws; the corruption of our Nature not permitting us to be lead to do good, for the sake of good alone. Moreover, our own necessity constrains us to seek the support of our Life by our Labours, and to eat our Bread in the sweat of our Countenances, as our Sentence im∣porteth. But to determine whether it be alwayes fit to reward or punish, when there is occasion, this depends upon many circumstances of Times, Places, and Persons: wherein a good part of the skill of a States-man consists. Yet when Reward or Punishment tends to the good of the publick, or the honour of the Prince; neither the one nor the other ought to be omitted, in my opinion, so far as is possible.

The Third said, That the Distick which imports, That the good hate sin out of the love of Virtue, and the wicked out of the fear of Punishment, voids the question. For since the good have nothing to do with any other Reward but what they find in their own satisfaction, knowing otherwise that they are oblig'd to do well; and the wicked need no other salary but the Punishment due to their Crimes; it seemes Punishment is not onely necessary, but alone necessary in a State. Not but that Reward serves for ornament, and for its better being, as Sauces do to raise the languishing Appetite; But in reference to absolute necessity, no person can say that they are to be compar'd together. For although Plato calls Reward and Punishment the two grand Daemons of Humane Society, yet it is not thence to be infer'd that the one ought to be parallel'd with the other, which is better understood by experience. For compare an Inter-regnum, wherein Crimes are not punish'd, with a con∣juncture wherein no persons are rewarded; this latter indeed will discontent those that have a good opinion of their own me∣rit; but the former will be so destructive that no Man can be se∣cure of his Goods, Honour, or Life. On the contrary, phancy

a State willing to reward all that do well, it cannot be done by Honours, but the same will be vilifi'd by their multitude; nor by money, without ruining some to enrich others. Wherefore Reward is much less necessary then Punishment. Which I affirm in behalf of truth, and not in complyance with my particular opinion, being no more void of Appetite then others; but the experience of the ancient Greeks and Romans, and of the Spa∣niards and Portugals, (the former of which had all the spoils of other Nations, and the latter all the Gold discover'd in the Indies) shews us that Reward doth not hinder discontents and revolts: Yea, it is found that the Reward given to one (unless it be accounted just by all the world, which is a rare thing) con∣tents less, and for a less time him that receives it, then it excites discontents in all others that cannot get as much: Like a Mistress, who for one favourite makes a thousand jealous and desperate. Whereas the Punishment of one single person serves for an ex∣ample and powerful lesson to all others. Add hereunto, that Reward being the sweetest when it is least expected, good people who alone deserve it, are forward to believe and to publish that they meant none at all.

CONFERENCE XIV.

I. Of the Seat of Folly. II. Whether a Man or Woman be most inclin'd to Love.

I. Of the Seat of Folly.

HE that began upon the first point said, That this Question is not unprofitable, because it concernes the original and place of the greatest evil that can befall the more noble part of Man: The decision of which will teach us to avoid the assaults of this Enemy the more easily, when we know where it is lodg'd. Nor is it new; for the Abderites having sent for Hippocrates to cure Democritus of the Folly which they impertinently conceiv'd him guilty of, sound him busier after this inquiry by the dissection of many Animals. But it is very difficult to comprehend, for a thing ought to be introduc'd into our Phancy that we may reason upon it, and Folly is a perversion of that Ratiocination. Now Folly is taken either relatively or absolutely. In the first accep∣tion, he that doth any thing contrary to the common opinion is call'd a fool. So 'tis proverbially said, Chacun à sa marotte, Every one hath his bable. One is accounted foolish for being too much addicted to meddals, another to Pictures, Flowers, or some such thing, of more curiosity then benefit. Yea one and the same person will sometimes say, I am a great fool for having done this or that. That which seemes Wisedom to one, is often∣times Folly to others. Thus ought that to be understood which S. Paul saith, The Wisedom of Men is Folly before God. Absolute

Folly is Absurdness, consisting in the privation and depravation of the action of reasoning. So that me-thinks it may be answer'd to the present Question touching the seat of Folly, that the laesion or abolition of any action being in the same organ in which it is ex∣ercis'd well, (as blindness in that part wherewith we see) the seat of Folly must be the same with that of Reason; which is there∣fore to be inquired by us. But because Ratiocination cannot injure it self, (for the Intellect useth no Corporeal Organ to un∣derstand, but onely the Memory, the Imagination, and the Com∣mon Sense, without which it cannot apprehend, nor they with∣out the Corporeal Organs which are in the Brain) some have held that the Soul performeth not its reasoning with one single Organ, but with many together. Others have ventur'd to as∣sign some particular place thereunto. The former opinion is founded: I. Upon the Maxime, That the whole Soul is in the whole Body, and the whole Soul is in every part, and conse∣quently she perform es her actions in the whole Body. II. That 'tis the temperature of the Humours which are throughout the whole Body, that serves for an instrument to the Soul. III. That the animal spirits are made of the natural and the vital; and so all the parts together contribute to Ratiocination, and not the Ani∣mal alone. Consequently, also, the whole Body, and not the Brain alone. IV. That the Brain in other Animals is perfectly like in structure to that of Man, having the same membranes and medullous substance, the same sinuosities, ventricles and veins; yet he differs from a Beast in the whole form and figure; and therefore must be consider'd intire, and not in one part alone. Lastly, that as God is most eminently in Heaven, yet acts no less upon Earth; So Reason, which is his image, discovers it self best in the Brain, yet ceaseth not to display it self in the Heart and other parts, which are not moved, and perform not most of their actions but by Reason, and the Will which is subject to it. The Second Opinion is, That the Judgement is made in one of the four ventricles of the Brain, which most account to be the third, as the fourth is attributed to Memory, and the two first or interior to the Imagination: Whence it is that we scratch the hinder part of the head, as if to chafe it, when we would re∣member any thing: that we lift up the head when we are about to imagine, and hold it in a middle situation when we reason. Which is further confirmed, for that they are wounded or hurt in those places, respectively have those faculties impaired or abo∣lish'd. Now to find the causes of such Laesion of the faculties, we must consider what is necessary for the exercising of them. Three things are so, the Agent, the Organ, and the Object. The Soul which is the Agent, admitting (neither magis nor minus) no degrees, being immortal and in no wise susceptible of alteration, cannot be hurt. The Brain, which is the Organ, being well or ill dispos'd, either by distemper, or ill conformation, or solution of continuity, may help or hinder the Memory and the Imagi∣nation.

The Object also may be fallacious, and represent to us that which is not.

The Second said, Folly comes either from the Nativity, as some are born deaf and dumb, or after the birth. From the Nativity, when the natural heat is deficient; as in small heads, which have too little quantity of Brain, or those that are flat∣headed, or of some other bad figure containing less then the round, and discomposing the Organs; Or on the contrary, in great heads which are said to have little Wit, because the Spirits are too much dispers'd and humid, as we see in Children. After the Birth, as it happens to decripet Old Men, to such as live in a thick Air, or through watchings, fastings, excessive afflictions, diseases, falls or blows, especially if an Impostume follow. For in such cases there are instances of great forgetfulness or Folly, as Gaza forgot even his own Name: It is divided into Deliration, Phrensie, Melancholy, and Madness. Though the word Deliration be taken for all sorts of Folly, yet it more strictly signifies that which is caus'd by rising of the hot humours and vapours to the Brain, and frequently accompanies Fevers and Inflamma∣tions of the internal parts. Phrensie is an Inflammation of the membranes of the Brain, caus'd by the bilious blood or humour, usually with a Fever, and a languid Pulfe, in regard such phrenc∣tick persons are intent upon other things, whereby their respi∣ration is less frequent. Melancholy (both the Ideopathical, which is in the Vessels of the Brain; and the Sympathetical, or Hypo∣chondrical, which ariseth from the Liver, the Spleen, and the Mesentery) ariseth from that humour troubling the Brain; and by its blackness making the patients sad and timerous; or as Averroes will have it, by its coldness, because Heat emboldens, and Cold makes fearful, as we see in Women. As this humour causeth Prudence and Wisedom when it is in its natural quality, so when it is corrupted it produceth Folly; there being as little distance between the one and the other, as between the string of a Lute stretch'd up to the highest pitch, and the same when it is broken: Which made Montaigne say, That there is but one turn of a peg between Wisedom and Folly. If this Melancholy hu∣mour be moveable and bilious, it will cause imaginations of va∣rious absurd things, like to those of Dreams. Wherefore Ari∣stotle compares the fame to waters in motion, which alwayes re∣present objects ill. If it be more fix'd, it causeth insuperable Opiniastry. As is observ'd in those who phancy themselves Pitchers, Cocks, Geese, Hens, Glass, Criminals, Dead, Damned, and so in infinitum, according to the diversity of Phancies, Con∣ditions, and Inclinations. The Folly of Love is of this kind, which hath caus'd desperation and death to many. Lastly, Ma∣nia, or Madness, is an alienation of the Mind, not mingled with fear and sadness, as Melancholy is, but with boldness and fury, caus'd by the igneous and boyling Spirits of the other Choler, which possessing the Brain, and at times the whole Body,

by their immoderate heat render Men foolish, furious, and daring. Such a heat, that they are insensible of cold in mid Winter, though stark naked; sometimes so excessive that it degenerates into Lycanthropy, rage, and many other furious diseases. By the induction of all which species of Folly, it appears, that whence soever the matter which causeth Folly ariseth, it makes its im∣pression in the Brain. For though the Soul be as much in the heel as the head, yet it is improper to place Wisedom in the heel, but it may reasonably be assign'd to the Brain. Yet to circum∣scribe it to a certain place, excluding any other, me-thinks ought no more to be done, then to assign some particular corner of a Chamber to an Intelligence, of the Nature of which the Soul participates.

The Third said, Melancholy is the cause of Prudence onely by accident, hindring by its dryness the too great mobility of the Blood, and by its coldness checking the too impetuous sallies of the Spirits; but it is by it self the cause of Folly, and also of the two other Syncopies, Eclipses, and Alienations of the Judgement which are observ'd in the Apoplexy and the Epilepsie, or Fal∣ling-sickness. If Melancholy abound in the Brain, it either possesses its ventricles, or predominates over its temper. If it be in the ventricles, it either molests them by its malignity and acrimony, and causeth the Epilepsie; or else it fills them, and causeth the Apoplexy. For as we put Oyl upon a piece of Wine that is prone to decay and sowre; which Oyl being aerious, and consequently humid, by its subtile and unctuous humidity keeps its particles so united, that the Spirits of the Wine cannot pene∣trate through it; and so being cover'd by it, they are restrain'd and tarry in the Wine: In like manner Melancholy by its tena∣cious and glutinous viscosity, like black shining pitch, keeps its particles so conjoyn'd, that the Spirit contain'd in the ventricles, cannot issue forth into the Nerves to serve for voluntary motion and the functions of sense; whence followes their cessation. But if the Melancholy Humour presseth the ventricles by its trouble∣some weight, then they retire, and by their retiring cause that universal contraction of the Nerves. If this Humour prevail over its temper, then it causeth deliration or Dotage, and that in two manners. For if it exceed in dryness, which is a quality that admits degrees, then by that dryness (which is symbolical and a kin to heat) it attracts the Spirits to it self, as it were to make them revolt from their Prince, and to debauch them from their duty; employes them to fury and rage, and causes madness, making them follow its own motions, which are wholly opposite to Nature. For being cold, dry, black, gloomy, an enemy to light, society and peace, it aims at nothing but what is destru∣ctive to Man. But if the cold in this humour exceed the dry, then it will cause the disease called Melancholly, which is pure Folly, and makes the timerous, trembling sad fools; for cold not onely compresseth and incloseth the Spirits in the Brain, and

stupifies them so as to become unactive, but hath also a back blow upon the Heart, the reflux of its infection exhaling even to that seat of life, and streightning it into it self, whereby its Spirits be∣come half mortifi'd. Moreover, this Humour sometimes piercing through the Brain comes about with a circumference, and lodges amongst the Humours of the Eye, placing it self before the pupil, and the Crystalline, under the Tunicles which cover it: by which means the Melancholy persons seem to behold dreadful Objects abroad, but it is within his Eye that he sees them. As for the same reason they who have the beginning of a suffusion imagine that flyes, flocks of wool, or little hairs, be∣cause of the Humour contain'd there; which if it be Blood, they seem red; if Choler, yellow; if Melancholy, black. But in all the cases hitherto alledg'd, me-thinks, the Seat of Folly is the same with that of Imagination, which is the Brain, and not any of the ventricles in particular: for since the Intellect acteth upon the phantasmes of the Imagination, this upon the report of the Common Sense, and this upon the information of the External Senses, which are diffus'd throughout all the Brain, and each possesseth a part of it, the whole Brain must necessarily contribute to Ratiocination.

II. Whether Wo∣men or Men are more in∣clin'd to Love.

Upon the Second Point, the First said, Women are of a more amorous complexion then Men. For the Spirits of Women be∣ing more subtile, (according to Aristotle's Maxime, That such as have more tender flesh have more subtile Spirits) they are carri'd with more violence to amiable Objects. And Love being, ac∣cording to Plato, the off-spring of Plenty and Indigence; that of Women arising from Indigence and Necessity, moves them more powerfully to obtain what they need, then that of Men, which proceedeth from Plenty and a desire to communicate. And therefore the Philosopher saith, the Woman desires the Man, in the same manner that the first Matter doth new forms, where∣with it is insatiable. The little knowledge they have of the goodness of what they affect causeth them also to love with greater ardour. Moreover, the Restraint which they ought to observe, with shame and fear, makes the inward motion more violent, and the inquietudes greater; And, like Fire cover'd with ashes, they preserve their Love under a honest modesty much longer then Men, who discover theirs undiscretely. The Hysterical Fits, Jaundies, Green-sicknesses, and other dangerous symptomes which Love produces in them, even to Erratical Fury, evidence that this Passion is much more violent in them then in Men, since it is able so notably to alter their natural constitution. Wherefore if we believe the Sooth-sayer Tiresias, Nature has in requital advantag'd them above Men in the enjoyment of the fruits of that Love.

The Second said, That the Woman is more inclin'd to Love, and also loves more constantly then the Man, because of the

weakness of Knowledge. For proof of which it must be ob∣serv'd that Knowledge gives the condition to Good, which is the Object of the Will, and the reason of Amability. Good hath from it self and its own principles the nature of goodness, which consists in a two-fold convenience; the one absolute, in reference to the thing which it accomplishes and perfectionates; the other relative, in regard to other things to which that Good may be refer'd, and by which it may be participated under the notion of Honour, Profit, or Pleasure. But the being amiable, it derives from the Knowledge. As Colours have from their own princi∣ples, (which are the four First Qualities blended in the Mixt Body) their being of Colour, but not their being visible, which they derive from the Light; without which Scarlet is indeed, in the night, Scarlet, but not visible. So the being amiable is de∣riv'd to the Object by the light of our Knowledge. Whence we see, that many times evil is lov'd, because it is judg'd good. This being premiz'd, it followes, that Man who knows more clearly loves more sleightly. He knows better, because he hath more heat, and consequently a more quick Imagination, and so a stronger Knowledge. For Minds are equal, and differ not but by reason of the Phantasmes. Moreover, he is more dry, which hinders his Knowledge from being obscur'd with the clouds of Humidity. On the contrary, the Woman being colder hath less vigour in her Imagination; and being more moist, hath her Phantasmes more thick by the vapour and inundation of humidity; and consequently hath a weaker reflection. For the driness in Man is that which occasions the reflection of his Know∣ledge; because it doth not so easily obey the motion of heat, and follow it, as humidity doth; and so the heat being active is con∣strain'd to reflect to take and carry along with it the driness which remains behind; and thus being forc'd to stay, and being inca∣pable of idleness, it employes it self upon the Phantasm already form'd, and contemplates it better then before. On the contra∣ry, the Woman pursues her point and goes forward, because her moisture follows what heat she hath. Thence it is that her first thoughts prevail over her second. For having but few re∣flections, the vigour of their Knowledge, being almost alwayes direct, languisheth in a little time. Moreover, the Man being more perspicacious, knoweth better then the Woman that all visible Good is frail and inconsiderable, and mingled with much impurity and imperfection. Which the Woman cannot judge so well. Yea, I say, 'tis a sign of a very good Spirit to be incon∣stant in Love. For Good▪ in general, being the Object of the Will, every particular good is but a parcel of it. The strong Mind hath no sooner tasted one Sensual Good but it despises it, as not containing the amplitude of its Object, and therefore goes to seek others.

The Third said, That indeed the less we know imperfect things, the more we love them. Whence they who are short∣sighted

are soonest taken with the first Objects: But, on the contrary, perfections the greater they are, the more exactly they require to be known; as the work of an excellent Painter can∣not meet with Eyes too piercing, nor persons too skilful, to make known its excellence. But the Knowledge alone of what is lovely is not enough to excite us to love it; for Eunuchs and impotent Old Men want not Knowledge, but that inward ar∣dour is excited by the abundance of Spirits that kindle Love; which their coldness is no longer fit to produce. Which being granted, Men will then have more Love then Women for Objects, which deserve it, because they have more Knowledge; and also they will have more for those which do not deserve it, because they abound more with those Spirits.

CONFERENCE XV.

I. How long a Man may continue without eating. II. Of the Echo.

I. How long a Man may be without Eating.

UPon the First Point all agreed, though in several words, That if Definitions are dangerous in Law, they are no less in Physick; and the more a Man knows, the more he finds him∣self deterr'd from establishing Maximes: which is principally true in the present Subject, the great diversity of circumstances not permitting a limitation of the time. For the understanding whereof, it is to be observ'd that our Body is like a Lamp, to which the natural heat is instead of Fire, and the radical moisture of Oyl. An Embnyo would be as soon dead as form'd, if the Blood of the Mother who gave him life did not serve for Oyl and Matter to entertain the natural heat which consumeth part thereof, concocteth and disi••••••teth the rest, and by little and little extendeth what the genitures have contributed into Bones, Nerves, Veins, Arteries, Muscles, and Skin; till the House becoming too little for the Inhabitant, and he a greater Lord then at his first entrance, and too burthensome to his Land∣lady, his Harbingers take up a lodging for him elsewhere. And whereas before he liv'd in common, and with the life of his Mother, he thenceforth begins to keep his ordinary apart, yet so regular, that he needs no more for day and night but his two bottles. Now if we speak of these, it is certain that a new-born Child hath been frequently seen two or three dayes without sucking, and continually to reject the Milk which the Nurse offer'd to distil into his Mouth: The nourishment which he had drawn by the Navel in too great abundance supplying that de∣fect, as the yelk of the Egg doth in the Body of the Chicken newly hatch'd. But when he begins to suck, the fluidity of

Milk doth not afford him nourishment solid enough to serve all that time. And therefore the Cynick Cratippus was ridiculous when he writ a Letter to his Son's Nurse to make him fast, that he might be accustom'd to abstinence betimes; that Age being no more capable of a Habit then of Discipline. Do Children use more solid food? Hippocrates saith, they bear fasting more uneasily then grown Men, and these then Old Men, because they abound more with natural heat, especially they, saith he, who have the best Wits. Moreover, Tempers, Seasons, Countries, different exercises, diversity of Food, Custome, and the disposition of Health, and the Organs, make a notable differ∣ence herein. Of Tempers, the Cholcrick is the most impatient of fasting. They cannot sleep unless their Belly be full, and by its mild vapours temper the acrimonious exhalations of their Choler; which otherwise causeth the exasperated Spirits to move in the Arteries and in the Organs of the Senses; instead of filling them with the benigne vapours which cause sleep. Hence the Proverb, Choler and Hunger make a Man fretful; and, the Hungry Belly hath no Ears. Likewise the Sanguine is not very fit for long abstinence. The Melancholy bears it better, but above all, the pituitous and Flegmatick. To these one day's fasting is no more trouble then to the others to want a Break-fast. Yea, should no other consideration lead them to fasting, they would be sick unless they sometimes debar'd themselves from a meal or two a day. Examples of fasting are afforded by Bears, Sea-calves, Dormice, Snailes, Serpents, and other Insects, which remain for several Moneths hid in their Cavernes using rest instead of food; their natural heat being then so weak, that the fat or viscous flegme wherewith they are provided, suffices to support them all that time. Of the Seasons, Winter causes such as fast to think the dayes longer then the Sun makes them; because the natural is then most vigorous. Next Winter, Autumne is least proper, for the same reason; and because the Spirits need reparation of the loss caus'd to them by the Summer. The Spring is more fit, in regard of the plenty of Blood which then boyles in us. But Summer most of all, because there needs less fewel for a less fire, as our internal heat is at that time. Of Re∣gions, the cold and Northern are less compatible with abstinence, the hot and Southern more, but the temperate most of all. Whence we see that the Orientals fast more easily for many dayes together, then we one single day. Of Exerises, as the more violent disturb the digestions, (as we see in those that ride post) the moderate promote them, and make room for Aliments; so they who use little or none at all, need the less food. Solid Victnals are longer before they be subdu'd in the Stomack then liquid; the fat and of oiley, afford most nourishment. There∣fore Bread hath a great stroke in digestion, as being all Oyle. As is seen in the correction of some Medicaments which is done with burnt Bread; for a piece of Bread as big as ones thumb

being set on flame will burn as long as the same weight of Oyl. Whence Abstinence is more supportable after such kind of food, then after broth or potch'd eggs. But Custome is so considerable in this matter, that those who are us'd to make four meals a day, are no less troubled with intermitting them, then others are one of their two ordinary repasts. And experience shews, that if you take up an ill custome of drinking at bed-time without necessity, you must use violence to your self to break it off. Yet the disposition of the Body is the main matter, whether we con∣sider the diversity of Organs destinated for nutrition; whence those that have large stomacks and Livers sooner yield to hun∣ger, or whether we divide Bodies into such as are healthy, (which dispense with less eating) and such as are distemper'd with diseases, the actions whereof are depraved. Amongst which we should speed ill if we look'd for abstinence in those who have a Boulimie, or Canine Hunger, proceeding either from the too great suction of the Mesaraick Veins, of which the Stomack is made sensible by the Nerves of the sixth Conjugation; or be∣cause the Melancholy humour design'd to stimulate the stomack, and provoke Appetite by its acrimony, continually flows thither, and not after the concoction is perfected: The cure of which Malady consists in eating, and chiefly in drinking pure Wine, which is distributed more speedily then any nourishment. But when those Mesaraick Veins suck no more Chyle, either because their passages are stop'd, or for that the above mentioned acide liquor is diverted elsewhere, then ariseth a disease call'd Ano∣rexie, or Nausea, whereunto the abstinence of those must be re∣ferr'd who have continu'd some weeks, yea moneths, and years, without eating and drinking. For we may well wonder at that Hydropick Person, to whom his Physitian having forbidden drink, he went to him at the years end to ask him whether it were time to drink. But we may wonder more at what we find in Histories, (even of our own time) which are full of relations of persons of either sex, that lived some years without taking any Aliment. M. Cytoys (Physitian to the Cardinal Duke of Richelieu, a Learned Man, and who needs no other Elogium but the choice of such a Master) publish'd a very ingenious treatise above twenty years since, concerning a young Maid of Confoulans in Poictou, which liv'd many years in that manner. And lately there was such another in the Province of Berry. Some have conceiv'd such persons to be nourish'd with thick Air by the Lungs, taking that for a Maxime which is not agreed upon, That Inanimate things (and much less the Elements) can nourish. Some ascribe the cause to the relaxation of the Nerves, which hinders the stomack from being sensible of the suction of the Mesaraick Veins. But in my conceit, the reason is, because their Bodies are almost indissoluble, and so compact that nothing exhales from them. Whereunto adding a viscous and tenacious flegme, a very small heat, and no exercise, the case will be the

same as 'tis in a fire-brand of Juniper. So we see fire lasts not so long in fifty faggots of straw as in an Arm-full of Match. Yea, not to detract from Miracles, whereby God so reserves to himself the doing what he pleaseth, that he doth not forbid our inquiring into Natural Causes; since it is held that there have been found sempiternal lamps and other lights, the oily humidi∣ty not exhaling out of the vessel, the same may seem more possible in the proportion of our natural heat with its radical moisture: For besides those Examples, we have that of some Animals, and Butter-flies flie, engender, and live a long time without nourish∣ment. Which is also seen more particularly in Silk-worms, the most exquisite Emblem of the Resurrection that is in Nature. From which disproportion, which appears so great between those who cannot bear one day's fasting, and others who pass years without eating; we may easily conclude (to the end where I began) that there is no limited time as to the question propos'd. For though it be ordinarily bounded within seven days, yet a certain person having been cur'd by a fast of that duration, it cannot be said that all dye of that wherewith some are cur'd.

II. Of the Echo.

Upon the Second Point it was said, The Echo is a reflected, multiply'd, and reciprocal sound, or a repercussion of sound made by hollow rocks or edisices; by the windings of which it comes to be redoubled, as the visible species is reflected in the Mirror. It is made when the sound diffus'd in the Air is driven into some hollow, smooth, and solid Body, which hinders it from dissipating or passing further, but sends it back to the place from whence it came, as the wall makes the ball rebound towards him that struck the same against it. According as the sound is violent, and the space little or great, it returns sooner or slower, and makes an Echo more or less articulate. It may be hence gather'd, whether Sound is produc'd by the Air or some other Body, since fish have the use of their Ears in the Water, and the voice passeth from one end of a Pike to the other, without resounding in the Air. And which is more strange, strike as softly as you please with your singer upon the end of a Mast lay'd along, he that layes his Ear to the other end, shall hear it better then your self; and a third that doth the like at the middle, shall hear nothing at all. In the Church de la Dorade, at Tholouze, he that whispers at one end of the wall, is heard, at the other by reason of its smoothness. On the con∣trary, it is reported that in Scotland there is a stone call'd the Deaf-stone, because they which are on one side of it hear not the noise, no not of Trumpets sounding on the other, the stone suck∣ing up the sound as a sponge doth Water.

The Second said, That the Image which we see of our selves in a Looking-glass, being as it were alive and yet dumb, is less admirable then the Echo which we hear not, and yet hear, com∣plain, sing, and talk with us, without Body and without under∣standing.

This Echo is not onely a resilition or reflexion of the sound or voice, or rather the voice it self so reflected and sent back by the opposition of some solid Body, which makes it return whence it came, and stops its course and flux. For then it would follow, that as often as we speak we should hear Echoes; seeing we never speak but there is made some resilition of our voice, by means of the opposition of solid Bodies near us, and encom∣passing us on every side. And yet we seldom hear any thing but our bare voice or some confus'd murmur; as it happens in new houses, in Churches, under a vault, before a wall, and other such places, in which we ought to hear a very articulate Echo, since the voice is reflected better there then elsewhere. I think therefore then the Echo is made in the same manner as the refle∣ction of the Sun's light; or of the rayes of any other fire whatso∣ever, by hollow mirrors, which unite that light and those rayes, and so produce another fire. For as fire cannot be produc'd by plain or convex mirrors, which reflect but one ray in one and the same place, and all sorts of concave or hollow mirrors cannot be proper for it, because it is necessary that the cavity be di∣spos'd and made in such manner that it may be able to reflect a sufficient quantity of rayes in one and the same place; which being conjoyn'd and united together, excite again and re-kindle that fire from which they issu'd, which seem'd vanish'd by reason of the dissipation of its heat and rayes: So the Echo, (which is no∣thing but the same voice reanimated and reproduc'd by the con∣course and reunion of several of its rayes dissipated, and afterwards reflected into one and the same place, where they are united and recollected together, and so become audible a second time) cannot be produc'd by bare walls and vaults, which do not reflect and recollect a sufficient quantity of those rayes into one and the same place, but onely resemble many of them near one another, whence ariseth a murmuring or inarticulate Echo. Now as Art imitates Nature, and sometimes surpasses her, so we find there are Burning Mirrors which re-unite the rayes of fire; and in like manner there may be made Artificial Echoes without comparison more perfect then those wherewith chance and the natural situation of places have hitherto acquainted us. Whereunto, beside what I have already mention'd, the Hyperbole, the Parabole, and chiefly the Oval greatly conduce, with some other means which are treated of in the Cataptricks.

The Third said, The Echo, the Daughter of Solitude, and Secretary of weak Minds, (who without distrusting her loqua∣city, fruitlesly acquaint her with their secret thoughts) teaches us not to declare our secrets to any person, since even stones and rocks cannot conceal them, but she especially affords enter∣tainment to Lovers; possibly because she ownes the same Father with Love, namely, Chance. For as no Love is more ardent then that which arises from the unlook'd for glances of two Eyes; from the collision of which issues a spark, little in the beginning,

but which blown up by the violence of desires, grows at length into a great flame; so though Art studies to imitate the natural Echo, and the pretty conceits of that Nymph, yet it never equals her graces which she borrows onely from the casual occur∣rence of certain sinuosities of Rocks and Caverns in which she re∣sides; the rest of her inveiglements remain unknown to Men; The Cause why Antiquity made her a Goddess. All which we can truly say of her, is to define her a reflection of the voice made by an angle equal to that of incidence: Which is prov'd, because the Echoes in narrow turnings are heard very near him that sings. 2. Nature always works by the shortest way, which is the streight; therefore Reflection is made by the same. 3. When the voice is receiv'd in a streight line it formes no distinct Echo, because it is united with the same direct line whereby it was carry'd, which by that means it dissipateth and scattereth. The same happens in a convex line. But if the Body which receives it be concave, it will recollect it from the perpendicular of the speakers mouth towards that Body, and 'tis by the concourse of the voice reflected in that line that the Echo is form'd. 4. The Body which receives the voice must be sonorous, which none is except it be hollow. From which four propositions I conceive, the way may be deriv'd to imitate the Echo, and tame that wood-Nymph in some manner.

The Fourth said, Vitruvius was not ignorant of this Artifice, having very dextrously imitated the Nature of the Echo, by the convenient situation of some earthen vessels, partly empty, and observing a proportion of plenitude to vacuity; almost like that which some Musicians make use of to represent their six voices. And that which hath been made in the Tuilleries justi∣fies him. Yet Art finds a greater facility in this matter, near Lakes, Hills, and Woods, naturally dispos'd for such a re-per∣cussion. But which increases the wonder of the Echo, is its re∣duplication, which is multiply'd in some places seven times and more; the reason whereof seemes to be the same with that of multiplication of Images in Mirrors. For as there are Mirrors which not onely receive the species on their surface so plainly as our Eye beholds, but cannot see the same in the Air, though they are no less there then in the Mirror; so there are some that cast forth the species into the Air, so that stretching out your arm, you see another arm as it were coming out of the Mirror to meet yours. In like manner it is with the voice. And as a second and a third Mirror rightly situated, double and trebble the same species; so other Angles and Concavities, opposite to the first, cause the voice to bound, and by their sending it from one to another multiply it as many times as there are several Angles; but indeed, weaker in the end then in the beginning, because all Reaction is less then the First Action.

CONFERENCE XVI.

I. How Spirits act upon Bodies. II. Whether is more powerful, Love or Hatred.

I. How Spirits act upon Bodies.

IT is requisite to understand the Nature of ordinary and sen∣sible actions, that we may judge of others; as in all Sciences a known Term is laid down to serve for a rule to those which are inquir'd. So Architects have a Level and a Square, whereby to discern perpendicular Lines and Angles. Now in Natural Actions between two Bodies there is an Agent, a Patient, a Con∣tact, (either Physical or Mathematical, or compounded of both) a Proportion of Nature and Place, and a Reaction. Moreover, Action is onely between Contraries; so that Substances and Bodies having no contraries, act not one against the other, saving by their qualities: Which, nevertheless, inhering in the subjects which support them, cause Philosophers to say, that Actions proceed from Supposita. Now that which causeth the difficulty in the Question, is not that which results from the Agent; for the Spi∣rit is not onely a perpetual Agent, but also a pure Act; nor that which proceedeth from the Patient; for Matter which predomi∣nates in Bodies, is of its own Nature, purely Passive. But 'tis from the want of Contact. For it seemeth not possible for a Physical Contact to be between any but two complete substances. And if we speak of the Soul which informes the Body, it is not complete; because it hath an essence ordinated and relative to the Body. If we speak of Angels or Daemons, there is no pro∣portion of Nature between them and Bodies, and much less re∣semblance as to the manner of being in a place. For Angels are in a place onely definitively, and Bodies are circumscrib'd with the internal surface of their place: How then can they act one upon the other? Nor can there be reaction between them. For Spirits cannot part from Bodies. But on the other side, since Action is onely between Contraries, and Contraries are under the same next Genus, and Substance is divided into Spiritual and Corporeal, there ought to be no more true Action then be∣tween the Soul and the Body, both Contraries; not onely ac∣cording to the acception of Divines who constantly oppose the Body to the Spirit, and make them fight one with the other; but speaking naturally, it is evident that the proprieties of the one being diametrically opposite to those of the other, cause a per∣petual conflict with them; which is the same that we call Action. Contact is no more necessary between the Soul and the Body to infer their action, then it is between the Iron and the Load-stone which attracts it. What Proportion can be found greater then between Act and Power, the Form and the Matter, the Soul and the Body, which are in the same place. As for Reaction,

supposing it to be necessary (whereof yet we see no effect in the Sun, nor the other Coelestial Bodies, which no Man will say suffer any thing from our Eye, upon which nevertheless they act, making themselves seen by us: And Lovers are not wholly without rea∣son when they say a subject makes them suffer, remaining it self unmoveable.) It is certain that our Soul suffers little less then our Body, as is seen in griefs and corporal maladies, which alter the free functions of the Mind, caus'd by the influence of the Soul upon the Body through Anger, Fear, Hope, and the other Passions. The Soul then acts upon the Body, over which it is accustom'd to exercise Dominion from the time of our Forma∣tion in our Mothers womb, it governs and inures it to obey; in the same manner as a good Rider doth a Horse whom he hath manag'd from his youth, and rides upon every day. Their com∣mon contentment facilitates this obedience; the instruments the Soul makes use of are the Spirits, which are of a middle nature be∣tween it and the Body. Not that I fancy them half spiritual and half corporeal, as some would suppose, but by reason they are of so▪ subtile a Nature that they vanish together with the Soul: So that the Arteries, Ventricles, and other parts which contain them, are found wholly empty immediately after death.

The Second said, That if we would judge aright what ways the Soul takes to act upon the Body, we need onely seek what the Body takes to act upon the Soul. For the lines drawn from the centre to the circumference are equal to those from the cir∣cumference to the centre. Now the course which it holds to∣wards the Soul is thus. The Objects imprint their species in the Organ of the outward Sense; this carries the same to the Com∣mon Sense, and this to the Phancy: The Memory at the same time presents to the Judgement the fore-past Experiences which she hath kept in her Treasury; The Judgement by comparing them with the knowledge newly arriv'd to it by its Phantasmes, to∣gether with its natural habit of first principles, draws from the same a conclusion which the Will approves as soon as Reason acquiesseth therein. According to the same order the Will con∣signes the Phantasmes in the Memory and the Phancy, this to the Common Sense, and this to the Organs of the Senses. For Example, as soon as my Judgement hath approv'd the discourse which I make to you, and my Will hath agreed thereunto, she consign'd the species to my Memory, that it might remember to reduce them into this order, according to which my Memory distributed them to my Imagination, this to my Common Sense; this to the Nerves appointed for the Motion of my Tongue, and the other Organs of Speech, to recite the same, and now into those of my hand, to write them down to you.

The Third said, That the clearing of the Question propound∣ed depended upon two others. First, what link or union there may be between a Spiritual and a Corporeal thing. Se∣condly, (supposing that of the six sorts of Motion the Spirits

can act onely by the Local, how they can touch a Body to remove it locally; since there is no Contact but between Bodies. To the first I answer, that there is no need of union, such as that which joynes the Soul to the Body, for joyning the Act with its true Power; if there be any in us, it must be that which we see is ne∣cessary for the communion of Action. For when Actions cannot be exercis'd but by two parties of different Nature, there is found an Union between those different Natures, which is very natural, and founded upon the necessity of such Action. Where∣fore I am so far from thinking the union of the Soul with the Body a strange thing, that I should wonder more if there were none. For the better understanding whereof, it is to be observ'd that our Soul hath two sorts of Actions; one peculiar to it self, as to Will, and to understand; the other common with the Body, as to See, Hear, Feel, &c. These latter are as much natural as the former. And as, if it were in a State in which it could not exercise the former, that State would be violent to it, and contrary to its Nature; so it is equally troublesome to her while she cannot exercise the latter. Since therefore it is a part of the Nature of the Soul to be able to exercise its functions, it is con∣sequently natural to it to be united to the Body; seeing with∣out such union it cannot exercise those functions. Now I am no more solicitous to know what this union is, then to understand what that is which unites one part of an essence with the other; since the Body is in some manner the essence of the Soul, making one suppositum and individual with it, and the Soul hath not its Nature intire, saving when it is united with the Body. I pass to the Second, and say, that, supposing two sorts of Contact, one of a suppositum, the other of Virtue; the Spirits touch the Body, which they move locally, by a Contact of Virtue; by impressing the force of their motive faculty upon the Body which they will move; as my hand impresseth its motive virtue upon the ball which I fling; which virtue, though extrinsecal, persists in the ball as long as it moves, even when it is distant from my hand. And although there is some disparity, inasmuch as the hand and the ball are both corporeal, which a Spirit and a Body are not; yet since our Soul applyes its motive virtue to the Body which it animates, it is probable there are many qua∣lities common both to Spiritual and Corporeal Substances; as is the power of acquiring habits. And it is also likely that the power of moving from one place to another, which is in a Spirit, is not different in specie from that which is in a Horse, although their Subjects differ. If therefore the motive faculty of Bodies is that of the same species with that of Spirits, why should we account it strange that that of a Spirit should be communicated to a Body?

The Fourth said, That the Example of our Lord carried by the Devil to the top of a Mountain and of a pinnacle of a Temple, shews sufficiently that Daemons can act upon Bodies,

and that all natural things falling under the cognisance of Sense are moveable in their activity; yet not at once, and in gross, but one thing after another. For an Angel not being an Informing Form, ty'd and connected to any particular sensible Nature (as the Rational Soul is) but an Assisting Form, that is, an External Agent which moves and agitates it to pleasure, it is indifferent, and can determine, to move what Body, it pleases. But sensible things are not subject to Spirits, saving so far as Local Motion. For the Devil acts either upon the Body, or upon the Soul, as it is in its Organs. If upon the Body, he either doth it alone, or by the intervention of another Agent. If the latter, then there must be a Local Motion to apply the same to the Body upon which he causeth it to act for the tormenting or moving of it. If he doth it by himself immediately, and causeth pain in the parts, it is either by solution of continuity, or by distention of those parts, or by compression of them. All which is no more but dislocating them, and moving them out of their right situation. If he causes a Fever, it is either by collecting the humours from all the parts; For Example, Choler, which congregated toge∣ther in too great quantity, distempers the Body; or else by re∣straining the perspiration of the fuliginous vapour, which is the excrement of the third Concoction; and being with-held within causeth the putrefaction of the humours: and all this is local moti∣on too. By which also he produceth all the diseases which he is able to cause, inspiring a putrid Air, which like Leven sowers and cor∣rupts the humours. If he acts upon the Senses and the Passions, he doth it either outwardly, by some mutation of the Object, or inwardly, by some alteration of the Faculty. If the former, it is because by a Local Motion he formes a Body, heaping together, uniting and adjusting the materials necessary thereunto; as the Air, an aqueous vapour, a terrene and unctuous exhalation, and the heat of the Sun, or some other, which he employes artificially (according to the experience which he hath acquired through∣out so many Ages) till he make them correspond to the Idea of the Body which he designes to form. All the Actions of Men are perform'd in like manner, by putting together, conjoyning, or retrenching, or separating things: In one word, by apposition or separation. If he acts internally upon the Faculty, 'tis either upon the Phancy, or the Appetite, or the External Sense. Upon the Phancy, either by compounding one Phantasm of many, as it happens in sleeping, or else by acting upon a single one, to make it appear more handsome or ugly; More handsome, by the concourse of many pure, clear, refin'd Spirits, which enliven and embellish that Phantasm; as we see a thing appear more hand∣some in the Sun; More ugly, by the arrival of certain gloomy and dark Spirits, which usually arise from the humour of Me∣lancholy In the Appetite, if he excites Love there, 'tis by the motion of dilatation expanding the Spirits, and making them take up more room; If Hatred or Sadness, it is coarcting the

same Spirits by compression. He can also cause a subtile muta∣tion in the outward Senses internally, especially upon the sight. As we see those that have a suffusion beginning, imagine that they see Pismires and Flyes, which others besides themselves behold not. Moreover, Melancholy persons often terrifi'd with various frightful representations; the cause whereof is an humour extravasated between the Tunicles of the Eye under the Cornea, before the Crystalline which disturbs the sight with various shapes by reason of its mobility; as the Clouds appear to us of several figures. Thus and more easily can the Devil trasfer the humours, and, managing them at his pleasure, make them put on what figure he will, to cause delusion. In fine, all this is perform'd by the Local Motion of the parts, humours, or Spirits.

The Fifth said, That the foundation of doubting, is, that there is requir'd proportion between the Agent and the Patient. Which is prov'd, because it is requisite that the patient which is in Power be determin'd by the form receiv'd; and it seemeth that a spi∣ritual thing cannot produce a form that may determine a mate∣rial thing. That it produceth nothing material, is evident, because the action and the product are of the same Nature. Now the action of a Spiritual Entity cannot be material, to speak na∣turally. Yet it is certain that God acts in corporeal things, though he is a pure Spirit. But it may be answered, That an Infinite Power is not oblig'd to the Rules of Creatures; Besides, that his Ubiquitary Presence sufficeth to impart Motion to all; as also that he containing all things eminently is able to produce all things. But if to contain eminently is to have a more perfect Being, capable to do what the lesser cannot; this is not satis∣factory. For the Question is, How that more perfect Immate∣rial Being can produce that which Material Beings produce. To which, the saying that it is a more perfect Being, doth not satisfie. For then an Angel should be naturally able to produce all the perfections which are inferior to him; which is absurd. It fol∣lowes therefore, that the Cause must contain the Effect, that it may be able to produce it; and that, since a spiritual Being doth not contain material things, either those which we call Immate∣rial, are not so at all; or else God immediately produceth in them the effects which we attribute to them. For I see not how immateriality is infer'd from immortality, since there may be an incorruptible matter, such as that of the Heavens is. Which nevertheless is spoken rather to make way for some better thought, then that I hold it as my own.

The Sixth said, That there may be some Medium serving for the union between the Body and the Soul, beside the Animal, Vital, and Natural Spirits; to which Medium, the many won∣derful effects which we are constrain'd to ascribe to Occult Qua∣lities ought to be referd'd. For as they who know not that the Ring which Juglers make to skip upon a Table, according to the motion of their fingers, is fasten'd to them by the long Hair

of a Woman, attribute that Motion to the Devil: So they who cannot comprehend the subtility of the Medium, uniting not one∣ly the Body with the Soul which informes it, but also the other Spirits with the Body which they agitate, find no proportion therein, and are constrain'd to let experience cross their reason. Now to understand the Nature of this uniting Medium, I con∣ceive is as difficult as to give an account of the Sympathies and Antipathies of things.

II. Which is more power∣full Love or Hatred.

Upon the Second Point, the First said, That E••pedocles had reason to constitute Love and Hatred for the two Principles of Nature: which though Aristotle endeavours to confute, yet is he constrain'd to acknowledge the same thing, though disguis'd under other words. For when he saith, that two of his Princi∣ples are contraries and enemies, namely, Form and Privation; and nevertheless that they are united in one common Subject which is the Matter; what is it else but to confess that all things are made and compos'd by the means of Love and Hatred? They who own no other Principles but the Four Elements, are of the same opinion, when they say that all Mixt Bodies are made with a discording concord, and a concording discord. For as the Elements united together will never compose an Animal, unless they be reduc'd to a just proportion, and animated, by rebate∣ment of some little of the vigor of their active qualities; so if there be no kind of War and Amity between them, if the Hot act not against the Humid, the Animal will never live: since Life is nothing but the action of Heat upon Humidity. However, Amity hath something more noble, and excites greater effects then Enmity. For the former is the cause of the Generation and Preservation of Mixt Bodies, and the latter of their dissolution and corruption. Now it is much more noble to give and pre∣serve Being, then to destroy it. Whence God himself found such perfection in his Creation, and was so pleas'd with his Di∣vine Work, that though it frequently deserves by its crimes to be annihilated, yet his Punishments have not hitherto proceeded so far. This is no less true in Spiritual and Intellectual Substances then in Natural. Gods Love hath more noble effects then his Hatred. For (to leave to Divines the consideration of that Love which had the power to draw the Second Person of the Trinity from Heaven, with that which produces the Third▪ as also to leave them to proclaim that God loves Good Actions, and that the effect of this Love is Eternal Bliss▪ that he hates Sins, and that the effects of this hatred are the punishments of Hell; that it is manifest that the glory of Paradise is much greater then of those Chastisements; since what ever penalties God inflicts upon Man for his mis-deeds, he renders Justice to him, and do's not reduce him into a state inferior to or against his Nature; but when he rewards with Eternal Glory, he exalts our Nature infinitely higher then it could aspire;) let us consider

Love and Hatred in Men, and particularly as Passions, (accord∣ing as the Question propounded seemes principally to be under∣stood,) and no doubt Love will be found more violent then Hatred. To judge the better whereof, we must not consider them nakedly and simply, as Love is nothing else but an inclina∣tion towards Good, and Hatred an Aversion from Evil; nor yet as such Good or Evil is present: For in these two manners they have no violence, nor any Motions, since according to the receiv'd Maxime; When the End is present, all Motion and Action ceaseth. But to know which of these two passions acts with most force and violence for the attaining of its end, we must contemplate them with all the train and attendance of the other Passions which ac∣company them; not as the one is an inclination to Good, and the other an Aversion from Evil, present; For in this sense, no doubt, a Present Evil which causeth Grief, is more sensible and violent then a Present Good which causeth Pleasure; but as the one is a Desire of the Absent Good which is propos'd, and the other a Flight from an Absent Evil which is fear'd; I conceive the Passions excited by an Absent Evil have no great violence, but rather partake of heaviness and stupidity, as Fear and Sadness; which render us rather unmoveable and insensible, then active and violent in our Motions. The Passions which lead towards an Absent Good are otherwise: For Hope, which is, by the testimony of Aristotle, a species of Love, contemnes and surmounts all difficulties which hinder its attaining to its Good.

Here one objecting, That Anger, which arises from Hatred and inward Grief hath more violent effects then Hope and the other Passions; It was answer'd, that Anger consists of a mix∣ture of Love and Hatred; therefore Homer sayes, that to be angry is a thing more sweet then Honey. For Anger tends to Revenge, and ceaseth when we are reveng'd for the wrong we apprehend done to us. Now Revenge seemes a Good and de∣lectable thing to the person that seeks it; and therefore all the great Ebullitions and Commotions observ'd in Anger ought to be referr'd to the Love and Desire of Revenge. Besides, the Motions which attend Hatred are Motions of Flight, as those which accompany Love are Motions of Pursuit; and Anger be∣ing rather a Pursuit and seeking of Revenge, then a Flight from any evil, it is more reasonably to be rank'd under Love then under Hatred. Again, we see amorous persons are more easily put into heat, then even those which are drawn up in battalia, and ready to kill one another. In fine, if Hatred and all the Passions attending it, have any force and violence, Love is the prime cause thereof; we hate no thing but because we love some thing, and that more or less, proportionably as we love. Wherefore the Philosophers who would introduce an Apathy, and banish all the Passions, should have done well rather to ex∣tinguish Love. For he who loves no thing, hates no thing; and when we have lost any thing, our sadness and resentment is pro∣portionable

to the Love we had for it. He that loves no thing, fears no thing; and if it be possible, that he do's not love his own life, he do's not fear death. It is not therefore to be inquir'd, which excites the greatest Commotions, Love or Hatred; since even those which Hatred excites proceed from Love.

The Third said, That the Acts or Motions of the Appetite are called Passions, because they make the Body suffer, and cause an alteration in the Heart and Pulse. Such as aim at Pleasure ener∣vate the Motion of Contraction; because they dilate the Spi∣rits, and augment that of Dilatation. Whereas, on the contrary, those which belong to Sadness diminish the Motion of Dilatation, because they further that of Contraction. We may consider the Passions either materially or formally; the former consideration denotes the Impression which they make upon the Body; the latter, the relation to their Object. So Anger consider'd mate∣rially is defin'd, An Ebullition and Fervour of the Blood about the Heart; and formally, A Desire of Revenge. This being premiz'd, I affirm, That Hatred is much more powerful then Love; if we consider them materially, not as alone, but as leaders of a party, viz. Love with all the train of Passions that follow the same towards Good, and Hatred, with all its adherents, in reference to Evil. For either of them taken apart, and by it self, make very little impression and alteration in the Heart. Love is a bare acknowledgement of, and complacency in good, and goeth no further as Love. Hatred is nothing else but a bare rejection, disavowing, and aversion of Evil. In verification of which conception of the Nature of those Passions, it is evi∣dent that the Effects ascrib'd to Love, as Extasie, Languishing, are the Effects not of Love, but of Hope, weary and fainting through its own duration. Now these Passions being thus taken, Love causeth less alteration upon the Body then Hatred. For its highest pitch is Delight, which is materially an expansion of the Spirits of the Heart towards the parts of the whole Body; where∣in appeareth rather a cessation from Action, then any violence. But Hatred which terminates in Anger makes a furious havock. It dauseth the Blood to boyle about the Heart, and calls to its aid the same Passions that are subservient to Love, as Hope and Boldness, conceiving it a Good to be reveng'd on the present Evil. The Case is the same also, if they be consider'd according to their formality. For the Object of Love is a Good, not ab∣solute but according to some consideration; seeing the good of an Animal is its preservation, to which that kind which is called Delectable Good, or the Good of Delight, is ordain'd as a means to the end. But the Object of Hatred is the Evil which destroyes an Absolute and Essential being of an Animal. For which reason it moves more powerfully then Good.

The Fourth said, That for the better judging of the Question, we must suppose that these two Passions are two Agents, which tend each to their different End. For the end of Love is a good

Being; That of Hatred, which repels what destroyes our Being, is the preservation of Being simply. Now Being is much more perfect naturally then better being, though morally it is not so perfect: and the preservation of Being is of the same dignity with Being. On the other side, it is true that Love is the cause of Hatred, and that we hate nothing but because we love. Yet it doth not follow that Hatred is not more powerful then Love; seeing many times the Daughter is more strong and fair then the Mother. Now if they are brutish Passions, they must be measur'd by the standard of Brutes. But we see a Dog leave his Meat to follow a Beast, against which he hath a natural animosity. And Antipathies are more powerful then Sympathies; for the former kill, and the latter never give life. Nevertheless, some∣times Love prevailes over Hatred. For a Man that loves the Daughter passionately, and hates the Father as much, will not cease to do good to the Father for the Daughters sake.

The shortness of the dayes, and the enlargements upon this Subject, having in this and some of the former Conferences, left no room for Inventions; every one was entrealed to prepare him∣self for the future; and these two Points were chosen for the next day seven-night.

CONFERENCE XVII.

I. Of the several fashions of wearing Mourning, and why Black is us'd to that purpose rather than any other colour. II. Why people are pleas'd with Musick.

I. Of the seve∣rall fashions of wearing Mourning, and why Black is us'd to that pur∣pose rather then any other colour.

THe First said, That the greatest part of Man-kind, except∣ing some Barbarians, lamented the death of their friends, and express'd their sadness by external Mourning, which is no∣thing but the change of Habit. Now they are observ'd to be of six sorts. The Violet is for Princes. The weeds of Virgins are white in reference to purity. Sky-colour is in use with the people of Syria, Cappadocia and Armenia, to denote the place which they wish to the dead, namely, Heaven. The Yellow, or Feuille-morte, among those of Aegypt, to shew (say they) that as Herbs being faded become yellow; so Death is the end of Humane Hope. The Grey is worne by the Aethiopians, because it denotes the colour of the Earth, which receives the dead, and into which they return. But the most common, and us'd throughout all Europe, is Black, which also was always worne by the Romans when they went into Mourning, except during sixty years that they wore white. The wearing of Mourning continu'd ten moneths at Rome; the Athenians wore it but one

moneth; the Spartans no more but eleven dayes. The reason why they have all chosen Black for denoting Sadness, is, be∣cause Black is the privation of White, and proceedeth from the defect of Light; so Death is the privation of Life and Light. Possibly too, the reason why the Cypress Tree was esteem'd a Funeral Tree, was, because the leaves were of a dark Green, and the Nutts tincture Black, and being cut it never puts forth again; as also Beans were, in regard of the blackness which ap∣pears in them and their flowers.

The Second said, That Experience shews us sufficiently that the Black colour doth not onely put us in Mind of our griefs and sadnesses pass'd, but also is apt excite new. This is known to the Senses, and unknown to Reason, by a certain Divine Ap∣pointment, which hath caus'd that what is manifest to the one, is hidden to the other. As appears, for that nothing is so na∣tural to the Sense of Seeing as Light and Colours. But yet there is nothing in which our Mind sooner finds its weakness, then in the enquiry into the Nature and properties of Colours and Light. Now there are two sorts of blackness, the one Internal, when the Soul turning it self towards the Images, upon report of which a judgement is made, if that Image is Black and de∣form'd, the Soul must conceive that the Objects represented by it, are so also, and thence ariseth horror and sadness; the other external, for the explicating of which, I must crave leave to de∣flect a little from the ordinary opinion touching the Nature of Colours. I affirm, that Colour and Light are one and the same thing, and differ onely in regard of the Subject; so that the lustre of a simple Body is Light, but the lustre of a mixt Body is call'd Colour. By which account, Light is the Colour of a simple Body, and Colour is the Light of a mixt Body. Whence Mixts approaching nearest to the simplicity of the Element pre∣dominant in them, are all Luminous; as precious stones, which are a simple Earth, and without mixture of other Element; and rotten Wood, which having lost the little Air and Fire it had, its humidity also being absum'd by the putrefaction, and there remaining nothing almost but Earth, you see how it keeps its splendour amidst the darkness of the night. And this, in my conceit, is the meaning of what Moses saith, when he saith, that God created the Light before the Sun. For God having cre∣ated the Elements in their natural purity, they were sometimes in that state before mixture; the Earth appeared not, but the Water cover'd its whole Surface. Every Element was in its own place, and the purity of its Nature: for which reason they had then their first Colour, which is splendour. But as soon as God had mingled them for the forming of Mixts, their Light became clouded and chang'd into Colour. And hence it was necessary to form a Sun in Heaven, far from all sort of mixture and composition; to the end he might alwayes preserve his Light, and enlighten the world therewith. The Fire preserves

it self the most of all in its purity, by reason of its great activity which consumes what ever approaches near it. The other Ele∣ments would do so too, if they could preserve themselves in their purity as well as the Fire. But because they would be un∣profitable should they remain such, it is necessary that they be mingled one with another, as well to serve for the production of Compounds, as for their Aliment, and several uses. Hence their Light becomes chang'd into Colour, which is nothing else but a Light extinguish'd more or less; and, accordingly, we see some Colours more luminous then others. The White is still wholly luminous, the Red wholly resplendent, the Green less, and the Brown begins to grow dark. Lastly, the Black is nothing but Light wholly extinct, and a kind of darkness, and consequently hath nothing of reality, but is a pure Privation which our Eyes perceive not. As our Ear discerneth or perceiveth not silence, but onely by not hearing any sound; so neither doth the Sight behold Black and darkness, but when it sees neither Colour nor Light. So that to hear Silence, and see darkness, is (to speak properly) a vain attempt of the Soul, which would fain exert its action of seeing and hearing, and cannot. Hence ariseth the sadness and terror which a deep silence, and the sight of extreme blackness and darkness excites in the Soul. For the Soul knows well, that Life is nothing else but Exercise of its Faculties, of which as soon as any thing is depriv'd, there remains nothing to be expected but death. She would fain exert her action and cannot; she distinguishes not whether it be through default of the Object, or whether her Faculty be lost, but she finds a pri∣vation of her actions, and represents to her self to be in the state of Death; whence ariseth Sadness and Fear. For as our Soul dreadeth nothing so much as Death, so the least suspition, the least sign and umbrage of Death, is apt to put her into great de∣jection. And this makes way for the Second Reason, why the Soul becomes sad at the sight of a black Colour, namely, because it never appears in the Body, but Death is at hand. For this Colour is produc'd by the mortification and extinction of the Spirits, as a Gangrene, which is either caus'd by Adustion, (whereby Coals become black) or by extreme coldness; thus Old Men are of a leaden Colour tending to blackness. Now the excess of heat and coldness is equally contrary to Life. Where∣fore as often as the Soul perceives blackness, either in her own Body or in another, she remembers the Qualities which produc'd it, and are contrary to Life which she loves; hence ariseth sad∣ness. And hence also it is that we naturally love a Countenance well proportion'd with an agreeable Colour, wherein there is found a redness mingled with whiteness, bright and lively with Spirits; which is nothing else but an effect of the Love which our Soul bears to Life. For knowing this to be the Colour of Health, it affects the same even in another, as, on the other side, it abhorreth Death. Look upon a living Body, it is full of

brightness; but a dead one is gloomy and dismal; and at the instant that the Soul parts from the Body, a dark shade seemes as it were to veil the Countenance. Now that the Soul may under∣stand, it must become like to its Object. Whence Aristotle said, that the Intellect is potentially all things, forasmuch as it can form it self into as many shapes as there are Objects. So then, it will perceive blackness, it must become conformable to Black, which it cannot be without great resentment of grief and sadness; since its natural Colour is its brightness; and to deprive the Soul of brightness and splendor is to deprive it of Life.

II. Why Men love Musick.

Upon the Second Point the First said, That if Musick be not natural to the Heavens, considering the regularity of their Motions, which the custome of alwayes hearing hinders us from perceiving; yet it is so to Man, since he takes such Pleasure therein, that Nurses quiet the frowardness of their Children in the Cradle by their Songs; the Devotion of grown persons is in∣creased by singing of Psalmes; the Pipe and the Drum animate the Souldier to War, and even Horses become more courageous by the sound of the Trumpet; Not to mention David's Harp, which drave away the evil Spirit from Saul, nor the cure which Hoboys effect in those that are stung with the Tarantula, causing them to dance till they sweat, by which means they are cur'd of what otherwise would be mortal. All which seemes more to be admir'd then explicated.

The Second said, That the Solution of the present Question depends upon this other; namely, why certain Objects excite Pleasure, and others Grief? The truth is, Nature hath joyn'd Grief with Hurtful Objects, and Pleasure with profitable. For otherwise having plac'd Living Creatures amidst Life and Death, it might have hapned that through want of knowledge, or else through intemperance, some Creature might neglect the things which are profitable to it, or made use of such as are hurt∣full. It is not to be fear'd that an Ox will eat Worm-wood, or that an Animal will not pluck its leg out of the fire: For Pain admonisheth both the one and the other to abstain from those Objects, as on the other side Pleasure attracts us to those which preserve our Nature. This Pleasure is not onely in the Object as it is suitable to our Nature, but also in the Action it self. As it is a very sweet thing to live, so it is a great pleasure to exercise the Actions of life, more or less, according as the same are noble or necessary. Whence it is that Nature hath placed more Pleasure in the Action which tends to preserving the species of Men, then in that which preserves every individual in particular, and yet more in this latter, then in that of Seeing, Tasting, and the rest; because that which regards the preservation of the individual, namely, Eating and Drinking, is considerable in reference to Life and Being which it preserves; but the rest are onely for well-being. But in the Sense of Hearing there is not observ'd

any Pleasure or Pain arriving by reason of the Object; because in Hearing, as well as in Seeing, the Objects act onely intention∣ally not really and corruptibly. Now Pain and Pleasure are not excited on the part of the Objects, but by real Actions, which cause alteration in their subject. But the Hearing is capable thereof, because it is a Natural Action, and every Natural Action is perform'd with Pleasure. Whence then cometh the Pain which our Ear receiveth with the sound? It must be ob∣serv'd that the Sense of Touching is diffus'd through all the Body, and every sensible part admits Pain, which is an Accident of Touching. Upon which account the Ear is endew'd with Two Senses; it receives not onely sounds, but the Tactile qua∣lities. Sounds of themselves excite neither Pain nor Pleasure; but if together with sound the Air enters into the Organ, and strike it too vehemently, or stretches the Membrane more then its Nature is able to bear, Pain is excited in the Ear, not as it is the Instrument of Hearing, but as it is endew'd with the Sense of Touching. Moreover, Pain may be excited in the Sense of Hearing, another way. For the understanding whereof, it is to be noted, that it is not sufficient that the word of him that speaks be formed and articulated in his Mouth by the help of the Teeth and the Tongue; but the Ear must form it anew that you may hear it. For which end it is contriv'd in form of a Snail-shell, at the bottome whereof is plac'd a Drum, an Anvil, and a Ham∣mer, for the formation of sounds anew. Now as we see the Organs which form words one after another, are troubled and discompos'd when they are to form certain sounds which have any Cacophonia or uncouth sound amongst them; as when I say, il alla à Alenson, I feel a certain unaptness in my Organs of speech; and the reason of this unaptness is, because the sequel or coherence of those sounds together, doth not well sute with the manner of the Organs operation; in regard it is natural to shut the Mouth after wide opening it; as we do in the pronun∣tiation of A. Now if another A must be pronounc'd immedi∣ately after, there is need of more force, which is troublesome, or else time must be allow'd between both, to shut the Mouth without speaking a word; which is also tedious to the Organ of speech, which hastens as much as he can to pronounce the words intended. So when the Ear comes to form the sounds anew, (as I said it doth) if two or more happen together, which require to be formed at once, as they do which have the same tone, or which gives not the Organ leisure to rest from one end to the other, it resents the same unaptness and inconvenience. Hence certain Concords in Musick please the Ear, and others displease it. This is seen ordinarily, that it is displeasing to the Ear to form many sounds at a time, as when two persons speak together; or if it happen that the two sounds presented together to be form∣ed are wholly opposite one to the other, as one grave, and the other sharp; the Organ cannot form them both at once, because

they require two different wayes of operation, to which the Ear cannot attend at the same time. For it operates otherwise in forming a sharp sound then a grave, and they both strike the Organ and rend, it each after its own mode. Whereby it is con∣strain'd to form them; but as it is by force, so it is not without Pain. But when those two sounds, the grave and the sharp, are united in one proportion, so that the sharp serves as it were for salt to the other, and they are blended together; this conjunction makes them consider'd but as one sound, which the Ear finds very agreeable, because it formes the same not onely without difficulty, but also with Pleasure. Hence the good Concord of Musick delights our Ears so much.

The Third said, We have suffer'd under the Tyranny of the Peripateticks too long, whereas the other Philosophers afford us excellent reasons. Plato and Pythagoras will have all things to be Number, or at least a participation and similitude of Numbers. Aristotle agrees too, that Musick is Number. Now the perfect Number, according to Pythagoras, is that of Ten; seeing all other Numbers are but repetitions of the first Ten. Of these Numbers the first pair is Female and imperfect; and so is a second in Mu∣sick. Three is the first Male, and the first degree of perfection; hence a Third is agreeable to the Ear. The Fourth is so likewise, because it makes up the Ten. Add 1, 2, 3, and 4, and you have the grand Number of Ten, the Father of all others. Also a Fifth pleases the Ear wonderfully, because it is an Abridgement of the grand Number, and the marriage of the Male and the first Female. The other Numbers are useless, except the Eighth, because Musitians call it Identity, or Unity, which is a Divine Number, or rather no Number; nor is the Eighth as delightful as it is, accounted by Musitians amongst their Concords.

The Fourth said, That the Reason why some Notes are agree∣able, and other unpleasing, in Musick, is, because the former move the Faculty of the Soul after a manner sutable to it, and the latter do not; as we see an Example of it in Ballads and Dances, where when the Violin or Minstrel hath sounded a braul which goes well to the cadence, not onely the Members of the Dancers comply therewith and follow the same readily, but also the Souls seemes to dance with the Bodies; so great Sympathy have they with that Harmony. But if, on the con∣trary, the power of the Soul be otherwise agitated at the same time, that Harmony, how regular soever, will displease us. Witness the displeasure taken at cheerful aires by those who are in Mourning, to whom doleful notes better agree, which, on the other side, are disagreeable to such as are merrily dispos'd. Add hereunto the humour of the Phancy, which hath an aver∣sion to some sounds, as well as to some smells. For as for Dis∣cords, janglings, and other troublesome sounds, no other cause of their general inacceptableness ought to be sought, then that disproportion and deformity which is sound in things Natural

and Artificial, the former being more intollerable then the latter; because the Eye is not struck with the visible species, as the Ear is with sound, and can turn away from the Object which dis∣pleaseth it, which the Ear cannot, and is clos'd with much more difficulty.

CONFERENCE XVIII.

I. Of the Original of Winds. II. Why none are contented with their Condition.

I. Of the Origi∣nal of Winds

THere is more resemblance then one would imagine between these two poynts, The Wind of the Air, and that of Am∣bition, to which the discontent of Men with their condition is commonly ascribed. As for the First, Some have held that all Wind, even that which blows upon the Sea, comes from the Earth; and that the first conjecture which was entertain'd of the Region of the West Indies, was taken from the Wind perceiv'd to come from that quarter. But the History of Christopher Co∣lumbus, attributing the discovery to Chance thereof, cannot consist with that opinion. There is no Meteor whose effects have more of Miracle, which is defin'd, An Effect whereof no Na∣tural Cause is seen. For even the Lightning is seen by the bright∣ness of the fire which accompanies it. But the effects of this aim at the highest things, which it overthrows, and you neither see the Agent nor understand it. Yet the Sagacity of Humane Wit is admirable. Sins have serv'd to clear Cases of Conscience. Arsenick, Sublimate, and other poysons, are converted by Physick into Cauteries and other profitable remedies. The Civil Law hath by occasion of evil manners receiv'd addition of good Laws. The Winds, which drown Ships, are so managed by the Art of Navigation (which divides them first into four principal, North, East, South, West, and then into eight, by the addition of four half points, and hath at length subdivided them into 32.) that by their help Men sail upon the main Sea, and provide for∣reign remedies for Physick; Sugar and spices for Kitchins, and employments for many other professions.

The Second said, That though many causes may agitate the Air, yet all of them are not sufficient to raise a Wind; but the Air must be agitated by some Fume which is raised either from the Earth, and is called an Exhalation, or from the Water, and is called a Vapour; either of which partakes of the Nature of the Element from whence it proceeds. A Vapour is moist, an Exhalation dry. An extrinsecal Heat which predominates in them gives them all their motions, and makes them mount on high. And because it is the property of Heat alwayes to move and act, therefore these Fumes are so long in action as the Heat

lasts. They arise in company together, and are carry'd upwards; but are presently separated. For the moisture of the Vapour quencheth the Heat which animated it; so that the sole absence of the Sun, or the occurse of the least Cold, depriving the Vapour of the little Heat which was left in it, and made it still ascend upwards, it becomes more condens'd, and falls down in Rain. But an Exhalation hath a greater degree of Heat, which is ren∣der'd more active by the driness and tenacity of the matter. Therefore it ascends till it meets with the Air of the Middle Region, which is thick and congeal'd, by which being hinder'd ••o pass further, it seeks a passage on one side or the other. Many times when it strives to rise higher, it becomes engag'd among Clouds which inclose it on all sides. Being thus inclos'd and straitned, it becomes united together, and thereupon be∣ing inflam'd, breaks the Clouds, and causes Thunder; or if it ••ind less resistance towards the Earth, it descends with violence to the place from whence it arose, and makes Whirl-winds. But if such Exhalation have not time enough to mount as far as the Middle Region (as it happens most frequently) but as soon as it is drawn up be hinder'd and inclos'd by the Vapour turn'd into thick and cold Air in the Lower Region of the Air, then Winds are produc'd in this manner. This Exhalation being unable to mount upwards, because the whole Region is full of thick Air which resists it, it must go either on one side or other; wherefore it tends that way where it meets least resistance. And whereas there are certain seasons wherein the Air is sometimes less thick towards the South; others, wherein it is so towards the North, and the other quarters of Heaven; thence it is that the Winds blow there most usually. Moreover, the reason why the Wind hath a kind of whistling, is, because the Exhalation clasheth with violence against that thick Air. Hence also it is, that Winds are more ordinary in the Night, and about Evening; because in those times the Vapour looseth its Heat through the Suns absence; and so being become a thick Air, better incloseth the Exhalation, and resisteth the same with more force. But as the Air which issueth out of our Lungs is hot; yet if it be sent forth with some little violence it becometh cold: So though the Ex∣halation which causeth Wind be never without Heat, yet we ne∣ver feel the Wind hot. Not that the Air loseth its Heat by motion, as Cardan conceiveth: (For, on the contrary, all things become Hot by motion; the Lead upon Arrows is melted, and the Wood fired, Water becomes thinner and hotter.) But the cause thereof is, for that a strong Wind or Hot Air driven vio∣lently draws all the neighbouring Air after it, which Air is Cold, and we feel the coldness thereof. Whence all strong Winds are alwayes cold.

The Third said, We ought not to seek other causes of Natu∣ral Winds then those we find in Artificial Wind; because Art imitates Nature. Artificial Winds (such as those of our Bel∣lows,

the most common instruments thereof, are caus'd by a compression of the Air made by two more solid Bodies then themselves, which thrust the same thorow a narrower place then that of their residence. For the Bellows having suck'd in a great quantity of Air, when its two sides draw together they drive out the same again with violence; And this is that which they call Wind. In like manner, I conceive, two or more Clouds falling upon, and pressing one another impetuously, drive away the Air which is between them. So we blow with our Mouths, by pressing the Air inclos'd in the Palate, and shutting the Lips to streighten its eruption. Hereunto they agree who desine Wind to be Air stirr'd, mov'd or agitated. But if it be objected that the Clouds are not solid enough to make such a compression, the contrary appears by the noise they make in Thunder∣claps.

The Fourth alledg'd, That Winds are produc'd in the World as they are in Man; namely, by a Heat sufficient to elevate, but too weak to dissipate Exhalations; whether that Heat proceed∣eth from Coelestial Bodies, or from Subterranean Fires. Where∣fore as Hot Medicaments dissipate flatuosities, so the great Heat of the Sun dissipates Winds.

The Fifth added, It is hard to determine the Original of Winds, after what our Lord hath said thereof, That we know not whence they come, nor whither they go, and what David af∣firmeth, That the Lord draweth them out of his Treasures. Ne∣vertheIess, I conceive, that different causes ought to be assign'd of them according to their different kinds. For although Winds borrow the qualities of the places through which they pass; (whence the Southern and Eastern are moist and contagious, because of the great quantity of Vapours wherewith they are laden by coming over the Mediterranean Sea and the Ocean) yet some Winds are of their own Nature Hot and Dry, making the Air pure and serene; being caus'd by an Exhalation of the like qualities. Others are so moist that they darken the Air, because they are produc'd of Vapours. Some places situated near Mountains and Rivers, have particular Winds. But as for those which blow at certain Periods, either every year, or every second year, or every fourth year, (as one that blows in Provence) I refer them to the Conjunction of certain Plants which reign at that time.

The Sixth said, That Air hath a natural motion of its own, as the Heavens have, otherwise it would corrupt; but meeting some streights, and finding it self pen'd up, it rallies and re∣unites its forces to get forth, (as it doth) with violence, and set it self at Liberty; And this with so much the more vehemence as the places through which it passeth are streighter. Whence it is that we alwayes perceive a Wind near a Door or Window half open (or the mouth of a Cave) which ceaseth when they are set wide open.

The Seventh continu'd, That which is most difficult to con∣ceive, in reference to the Wind, is its violence, which I hold to proceed from the Rarefaction of a matter formerly condens'd, and from the opposition of a contrary. For the place of the Generation of Wind being either the Cavernes of the Earth, or the Clouds, the vaporous matter becoming rarifi'd so suddenly that it cannot find room enough to lodge in, breaks forth im∣petuously; as we see the Bullet is by the same reason violently driven forth by the Air enflamed in the Cannon. Some think that Winds arise also from the Sea, because a Wave is alwayes seen, upon the changing of the Wind, to rise on that side from whence it is next to blow.

The Eighth said, That their motion is a direct line, because it is the shortest way, but not from below upwards; by reason of the resistance they meet with in the coldness and thickness of the Middle Region of the Air, whence the same thing happens to them that doth to smoak or flame; which arriving at a ceiling or vault, is constrain'd by the resistance it finds thereby to de∣cline on one side. Also their violence is increas'd by the adjunction of new Exhalations, as Rivers augment theirs by the access of new streams.

II. Why none are contenteà with their own condi∣tion.

Upon the Second Point it was said, That since the inferior World follows the course of the superior and Coelestial, it is not to be wonder'd if the latter being in continual motion and agi∣tation; the former, whereof Man makes the noblest part, can∣not be at rest. For the Starrs, according to their several Positions, Aspects, or Conjunctions, move and carry us to desire sometimes one thing, sometimes another. The Ambition and Ignorance of Man are of the party too. The former makes him alwayes desire to have the advantage above others, to pursue Honours and Dignities, and to think that to acknowledge a greater then himself, is to own fetters and servility. The latter represents things to him otherwise then they are, and so causes him to de∣sire them the more, by how much he less understands their im∣perfections. Whence many times, by changing, he becomes in as ill a case as Aesop's Ass, who was never contented with his con∣dition. But the true Cause, in my opinion, is, because we can∣not find in this World a supreme temporal Good, whereunto a concurrence of all outward and inward goods is requisite; and were a Man possess'd thereof, yet he could have no assurance that he shall enjoy it to the end of his Life; whence, living in fear of losing it, we should be prone to desire something that might confirm it. The Dignity of the Soul furnisheth me with another reason of our discontentment. For she being deriv'd from Heaven, and knowing that this is not her abiding City, she may taste of terrene things, but findeth them not season'd to her gust, as knowing that frail and mortal things are not wor∣thy of her, nor sutable to her eternity; And as a sick person that

turns himself first on one side, then on the other, to take rest; so the Soul finds her repose in motion. And as morsels swallow'd down have no more savour, so the present goods which our Soul possesseth give her no pleasure; but like a Hunter she quits the game which she hath taken, to pursue another.

The Second said, Though, by a wise Providence of Nature, every one loves his own condition as much or more then ano∣ther doth, yet there being alwayes some evil mix'd with, and adhering to, the most happy state in the world, that evil is the cause that we are never contented therewith. I add further, If it were possible to heap all the goods of the world into one condition, and all kind of evils were banish'd from the same; yet could it not fill the Appetite of our Soul, which being capable of an infinite Good, if she receive any thing below infinite she is not fill'd nor contented therewith. Nevertheless, this dissatis∣faction doth not proceed from the infirmity and ignorance of the Humane Soul, but rather from her great perfection and knowledge, whereby she judging all the goods of the world less then her self, the goods intermingled with miseries serve her for so many admonitions that she ought not to stay there, but aspire to other goods more pure and solid. Besides these, I have two natural reasons thereof. First, Every Good being of it self de∣sirable, every one in particular may desire all the goods which all Men together possess: Yet it is not possible for him to obtain them; wherefore every one may desire more then he can pos∣sess: Whence there must alwayes be frustrated desires and dis∣contents. Secondly, The Desires of Men cannot be contented but by giving them the enjoyment of what they desire. Now they cannot be dealt withall butas a bad Physitian doth with his Patients, in whom for one disease that he cures he causeth three more dangerous. For satisfie one Desire, and you raise many others. The poor hungry person asketh onely Bread; give it him, and then he is thirsty; and when he is provided for the present, he is sollicitous for the future. If he hath money, he is troubled both how to keep it, and how to spend it: Which caus'd Solomon after he had deny'd his Soul nothing that it de∣sir'd to pronounce, That All is vanity and vexation of Spirit.

The Third conceiv'd, That the Cause of this Dissatisfaction is, for that the conditions of others seem more suitable to us, and for that our Election dependeth on the Imagination, which in∣cessantly proposeth new Objects to the Soul, which she behold∣ing afar off, esteemes highly; afterwards considering them nearer, sees (as the Fable saith) that what she accounted a treasure is but a bottle of Hay.

The Fourth said, That because every thing which we possess gives us some ground of disgust, and we do not yet perceive the inconvenience of the thing we desire; therefore we are weary of the present, and hope to find less in the future: Whence we despise the one, and desire the other.

The Fifth added, That Man being compos'd of two parts, Body and Soul, which love change, it is necessary that he love it too. Choose the best posture, and the best food you will, it will weary you in a little time. Let the most Eloquent Orator entertain you with the most excellent Subject, suppose God himself, you will count his Sermon too long if it exceed two hours, or perhaps less. Is it a wonder then, if the Whole be of the same Nature with the Parts?

The Sixth attributed the Cause of this Discontent to the comparison which every one makes of his own State with that of others. For as a Man of middle stature seemes low near a Gy∣ant; so a Man of moderate fortune, comparing his own with the greater of another, becomes discontented therewith. Where∣fore as long as there are different conditions, they of the lowest will always endeavour to rise to the greatest; and for the taking away of this Displeasure, Lycurgus's Law must be introduc'd, who made all the people of Sparta of equal condition. If it be re∣ply'd, that nevertheless they of the highest condition will be contented; I answer, that our Mind being infinite, will rather fancy to it self Epicurus's plurality of worlds, as Alexander did, then be contented with the possession of a single one, and so 'twill be sufficient to discontent us, not that there is, but that there may be, some more contented then our selves.

The Seventh said, That the Cause hereof is the desire of at∣taining perfection, which in Bodies is Light, (whence they are alwayes chang'd till they become transparent as Glass) and in Spirits, their satisfaction, which is impossible. For Man ha∣ving two principles of his Actions, which alone are capable of being contented, namely, the Ʋnderstanding and the Will; he cannot satiate either of them. One truth known makes him de∣sire another. The sign of a moderate Mind is, to be contented with it self; whereas that of a great Mind is, to have alwayes an insatiable appetite of knowing; Whence proceedeth this? It is for that it knows that God created every thing in the world for it, and that it cannot make use thereof unless it have an exact and particular knowledge of the virtues and properties of all things. It knows also, that it self was created for God, and the knowledge of the Creatures is nothing but a means to guide it to that of God. So that if it take those means which lead it to the end for the end it self, it deceives it self and finds not the con∣tentment which it seeks, and will never find the same till it be u∣nited to its First Principle, which is God, who alone can content the Ʋnderstanding. His Will is also hard to be satifi'd. The more goods it hath, the more it desires. It can love nothing but what is perfect: It finds nothing absolutely perfect but good∣ness it self. For the Light and knowledge wherewith the Under∣standing supplieth it, discover to it so many imperfections and impurities in the particular goods it possesseth, that it distasts and despises them, as unworthy to have entertainment in it.

Wherefore it is not to be wonder'd, if Man can never be con∣tented in this world, since he cannot attain his utmost End in it, either for Body or Soul.

CONFERENCE XIX.

I. Of the Flowing and Ebbing of the Sea. II. Of the Point of Honour.

I. Of the Flux of the Sea.

THe First said, That if there be any other cause of this Flux then the heaping together of the Waters from the begin∣ning, under the Aequinoctial, by Gods Command, whence they de∣scend again by their natural gravity, and are again driven thither by the obedience which they owe to that Command; (which is so evident, that they who sail under the Aequator, perceive them selves lifted up so high by the currents that are usually there, that they are many times terrifi'd thereat) there is none more probable then the Moon, which hath dominon overall moist Bodies, and augments or diminishes this Flux according as she is in the increase or the wane.

The Second said, That the Moon indeed makes the Flux and Reflux of the Sea greater or less, yea, she governes and rules it; because being at the Full she causeth a Rarefaction of its Waters. But this doth not argue that she is the Efficient Cause of the said Flux. The Sea rises at the shore, when the Moon riseth in the Heaven, and retires again when the Moon is going down, their motions are indeed correspondent one to the other; yet I know not how that of the Moon is cause of that of the Sea: For if it were, then, when the Moon is longest above our Horizon, as in long dayes, the ebbing and flowing would be greatest; but it is equal and regular, as well when the Moon is below the Horizon as above it. And why also doth not she move the other Seas, and all sorts of Waters, as well as the Ocean?

The Third said, That there are two sorts of Water in the Sea, one terrene, thick, and viscous, which contains the Salt; the other thin, sweet, and vaporous, such as that which Aristotle saith enters through the Pores of a vessel of wax, exactly stop'd and plung'd to the bottome of the Sea. This thin Water being heated is rarifi'd and turn'd into vapours, which consequently require more room then before. They seek for it, but being restrain'd and inclos'd in the thick and viscous Water can find no issue; and therefore make the Water of the Sea to swell and rise, till that Exhalation be disengag'd from those thick Waters, and then the Sea returnes to its natural state, by falling flat, and becoming level. This is abundantly confirm'd by the Tydes; which are alwayes greater in March and August, then at other seasons; because at that time more abundance of vapours is

drawn up. But why have not Lakes also an Ebbing and Flowing? Because their Water being more thin lets pass those vapours which the Sun hath stirr'd; and so not being hinder'd from going away, as those of the Sea are, they do not make the Water rise and swell. So Heat having subtiliz'd and converted into vapours the most tenuious parts of the Milk upon the Fire, the thicker parts of the same coming to enclose them, are the cause that it swells and rises up: But when it is remov'd from the fire, or its vapours have gotten passage by agitation, it takes up no more roome then it did at first. But it is not so with Water plac'd upon the Fire, the rarity of its Body giving free issue to the va∣pours which the Heat excites in it. The Jewish Sea is bitumi∣nous, and therefore no more inflated then pitch; possibly be∣cause the parts thereof being Homogeneous, cannot be subtiliz'd apart. For as for the Mediterranean Seas, having no Flux and Reflux, I conceive it is hindred by another motion, from North to South; because the Septentrional parts being higher then the Austral, all Waters by their natural gravity tend that way.

The Fourth said, I acknowledge, with Aristotle, that 'tis partly the Sun that causes the Flux and Reflux of the Sea; be∣cause 'tis he that raises most of the Exhalations and Winds, which beating upon the Sea make it swell and so cause the Flux; and soon after failing, the Sea falls again, which is the Reflux. Nevertheless, because this cause is not sufficient, and cannot be apply'd to all kinds of Flux and Reflux, which we see differ al∣most in all Seas; I add another thereunto, Subterranean Fires, which sending forth continually abundance of Exhalations or subtile Spirits, and these Spirits seeking issue, drive the Water of the Sea which they meet, till it overflows; and thus it con∣tinues till being deliver'd from those Spirits it falls back into its channel, till it be agitated anew by other Exhalations, which successively follow one another; and that more or less, according to the greater or lesser quantity of those Spirits. The Tydes which happen every two hours are an evidence of great quan∣tity; those which happen every four hours of less, and those which happen every six, of least of all. So there is made in our Bodies a Flux and Reflux of Spirits by the motion of Reci∣procation, call'd the Pulse, consisting of a Diastole and a Systole, (or Dilatation and Contraction) caus'd by the Vital Faculty of the Heart, the Fountain of Heat. Moreover, as the Pulse is ordinarily perceiv'd better in the Arms, and other extreme parts, then in the rest of the Body; So the Flux and Reflux is more evident at the shores then in the main Sea. Therefore Aristotle proposing the Question why, if some solid Body, as an Anchor, be cast into the Sea when it swells, it instantly becomes calm, answers; That the solid Body cast into the Sea makes a sepa∣ration in the surface thereof; and thereby gives passage to the Spirits which were the cause of that Commotion. Now if it be demanded, Why such motion is not so manifest in the Mediter∣ranean

Sea, and some others, as in the Ocean, it is answer'd, that the reasons thereof are: 1. Because Nature having given sluces to the Mediterranean higher then to the Ocean, it hath not room wherein to extend it self so commodiously. 2. Because the Subterranean Fires, being united and continually vented forth by the Out-lets, which they have in Aetna, Vesuvius, and other Mountains within or near that Sea, there remains less then is needful to make a rising of the Waters.

The Fifth said, I conceive there is as little cause and reason to be sought of the Flux and Reflux of the Sea, as of all other motions proceeding from Forms informing or assisting the Bodies which they move. As it would be impertinent to ask what is the cause of the motion of a Horse, seeing the most ignorant confess that it is from his Soul, which is his Form: So there is more likelihood of truth in attributing the motion of the Sea to its Form then to any other thing. Yet because they who assign a Soul to the World and all its parts cannot make out such a proportion therein as is requisite to the parts of an Ani∣mal; I think more fit to affirm, that the Sea hath a Form and In∣telligence assisting to it, which was assign'd to it by God from the beginning, to move it in the same manner as the Intelligences, according to Aristotle, are assistant to the Coelestial Orbes, and continue their motion.

II. Of the Point of Honour.

It was said, upon the Second Point, That since Contraries give light to one another, we may better understand what Honour is, by considering the Nature of Dishonour. For where ever there is Blame, there is also Honour opposite to it. Now there is no Man that sees a vile action, (as amongst Souldiers, Murder, or Cowardice, Collusion, or Perfidiousness in Justice) but he blames the same, and judges the Author thereof worthy of Dishonour. On the conrary, a brave Exploit and a Courageous Action is esteemed by Enemies themselves: The incorruptible Integrity of a Judge is oftentimes commended by him that ••oses his Suit; and the Courageous Fidelity of an Advocate, in well defending his Client, receives Praise even from the Adver∣sary; so odious is Vice, and so commendable is Virtue. Where∣fore every one abhorring Blame and Dishonour, doth so vehe∣mently hate the memory and reproach of any thing that may bring it upon him, that many imitate what the Fable telleth of Jupiter, who going to shake off the ordure which the Beetle had laid upon the skirt of his garment, by that means shook out the Eggs which the Eagle had laid in his lap; that is, by thinking to repel a small Blame, they incur a greater, and oftentimes with the prejudice of another: As it is manifest in the rage and wild∣ness of Duels, when for the repelling of a small injury, a Man engages the life of a Second, who usually becomes involv'd in the same destruction with himself. It is not my purpose to de∣claim further here against that Madness; for the Folly of Men is

come to such excess, that they who go most unwillingly to the field, considering that they are going possibly to destroy both their Bodies and their Souls, yet dare not seem to obey the in∣junctions and prohibitions against the same by the Laws both of God and Men. A brutishness worthy of Admiration, as it would be of Pity, were it not voluntary among those who value them∣selves above others. But to leave them to themselves, let us onely consider what a strange Power the Point of Honour hath, which is able to carry before it all the torrent of Arguments and Reasons which disswade a furious Resolution. Now it is as va∣rious, as the Humours and Conditions of Men. Not that I think it imaginary, but as there are actions of themselves honest or dishonest, which are the real foundation of this Point of Honour; so it is of the same Nature. And although Diogenes accounted nothing dishonest (i.e. unbecoming) which is law∣full; yet it cannot be believ'd by any but a Diogenes. So that the Ingenuous Youth, upon whose shoulder that Cynick laid a flitch of Bacon, and lead him about the City in that equipage, to accustome him to put off all shame, obey'd Reason and not his Caprichio, when he cast the same down and ran away. When the Executioner causeth a Criminal to make an honourable amends, (by which understand a most ignominious punishment inflicted upon an extreme Offender, who must go through the streets bare-foot and bare-headed, with a burning link in his hand, unto the seat of Justice, or some such publick place, and there confess his Offence, and ask forgiveness of the party he hath wrong'd) he many times endures no other evil but that of shame; and yet I would not blame him that should prefer a na∣tural death before such a dishonour. It may be said that the Point of Honour reacheth not so far, but is onely an image and shadow, since words are but the images of things; and that a Man will fight a Duel when another hath reproach'd him for a fault, either of his own, or of some other for whom he is concern'd. But I answer, that Men fight oftner for actions and bad offices, then for words. And although they commonly reflect thus, what will people say of me, if I put up this? Yet the truth is, 'tis out of fear lest one contempt making way for another, might give occasion to effects not onely prejudicial to our Reputation, but also to our Fortune; which we know in these dayes depends upon our Reputation. A Captain known for a Coward will be cashier'd. A Souldier that doth not defend himself will be beaten. A Gentleman that doth not swagger when he is affronted, he will be abus'd not onely in his Honour, but also in his goods, by all his Neighbours. So that the Point of Honour is not so little real as it is imagin'd, since it hath an influence not onely upon a Mans Honour, but likewise upon his goods and life. In brief, we may consult those who deny the Point of Honour to be a real thing, by all this Honour∣able Assembly, and especially by the many excellent Wits, who

are excited by Honour to appear therein, and acquire (what they may justly expect) the commendation which is due to their merits.

The Second said, That he found some difference between be∣ing an Honest Man, and a Man of Honour; for that, to be an Honest Man, it is requisite onely to possess the Honest Good (Bonum Honestum) which is Virtue: But to be a Man of Honour, besides that, the world must know that we possess the same, and give us the reputation of being virtuous. For 'tis stupidity, not to care what opinion Men have of us. Which caus'd the Wise-man to pronounce a Curse against those who neglect a good Fame; which is so natural, and so neerly alli'd to Virtue, that she seems not to have her utmost perfection when she is sepa∣rated from it; and a Prudent Man desires equally to be virtuous, and to be esteemed such: Now if Honour consist in the posses∣sion of Virtue thus accompani'd, the Point of Honour will be the Point of Virtue, that is, the perfection thereof; or rather, Virtue most perfect, accompani'd with a compleat Reputation. This perfection, in my Judgement, is the War-like Virtue, call'd by the Greeks, by way of excellence, The Virtue of Man; and so esteemed by all the world, that no people, however other∣wise barbarous, ever deny'd it the Title of Nobleness. It is not then to be wonder'd if Men of Courage think that the Point of Honour consists in preserving to themselves the Reputation of being Valiant, and endeavour by all means to make it appear to every one that they are endew'd with this War-like Virtue. Whence most Quarrels are occasion'd by Mens accusing one ano∣ther of want of Courage, or other appurtenances of that Virtue.

The Third said, That which we call the Point of Honour, is nothing else, in my Judgement, but the desire of being esteem'd more honest persons then we are. For Man being the greatest dissembler of all Creatures, endeavours to make himself thought what he is not; because it being essential to him to desire Good, and his perverse Inclination not leading him to the true, therefore at least he desires the apparent. This is seen in all his actions, which aim onely at three kinds of Good; namely, the Honest, the Profitable, and the Delightful. Now of these three, onely the Honest is called the Good of Man; because the two latter usually corrupt him, the former preserves him. And nevertheless, many addict themselves to Pleasures, more run after Profit, but very few, comparatively, follow the Honest Good for its own sake, unless it be joyn'd with one of the other. In the mean time there is none but would perswade others that he is passionately in love with the latter, and not anxious for Honour. But, I conceive, we may know persons of Honour, by the little account they make of injuries which seem to tend to their disparagement, especially when they think the same do not belong unto them; and they who are worthy of Honour seek it least, and are not troubled

so much as others at the injury which any one thinks he doth them. So we see a Prince will not be so sollicitous to employ his qualities in a publick act, as a Man of low condition newly exalted. An Honest Woman will not be so much troubled at an injury offer'd to her Honour, as she that is of an evil Life; be∣cause the former hath true Honour, which the latter hath not: As we see paltry Pedlars, that have all their shop in a pack hang∣ing about their necks, make ten times more noise then the best whole-sale Trades-men, whose store-houses are fill'd with all sort of wares. And amongst all Nations, they who lie most, are most offended with the Lie. They who drink most, are most offended with the name of Drunkard. Wherefore since, ac∣cording to Aristotle, 'tis the truth and not the number or quali∣ty of the honourers, which constitutes the true Honour, which they arrogate most in whom the substance is least found; it follows that what we call the Point of Honour is nothing but the appearance or shadow thereof.

The Fourth said, The Point of Honour is nothing but a Desire we have to make our selves esteem'd such as we are. Wherefore when a quality which belongs not to us is taken from us, we are far from being so much concern'd, as if it pertain'd to us. So a Gentleman who makes profession of Valour will be offended if he be called Poltron; but a Capuchin will not, knowing well that that Virtue is not necessary to Christian Per∣fection.

The Fifth said, That Honour, according to the common opi∣nion, being the testimony which Men give us of our virtuous actions, the Point of Honour is that conceit which our Mind pro∣poses and formes to it self of that opinion. Whence it follows that the Point of Honour thus taken, being an Abstract which our Mind draws from things, and not the things themselves, there is nothing of reality in it, but it is a pure Imagination, which alters according to the diversity of times, places, and persons. Such a thing was anciently honest (i. e. laudable and becomming) which is not so at present: Whereof the Modes and Customs of the times past, compar'd with those at this day, are a sufficient evi∣dence. It was honourable at Rome to burn dead Bodies, and shameful to all others, (saving to the single family of the Cor∣nelii) to bury them. At this day to inter them is honourable, but to burn them the most infamous of punishments. It was in Lacedaemon an honourable thing to steal dextrously; and now the reward of the craftiest Cut-purse is a Halter. One thing is honest, (i. e. seemly) in one age (as for Children to blush) which is dishonest (i. e. unseemly) in another, (as for old Men to do so.) Yea, one Man will sometimes construe a thing within the Point of Honour, which another will not. And we sometimes conceive our selves interessed in one and the same thing, and sometimes not. Moreover, though the Point of Honour should not admit all these mutations, yet depending

upon the imagination of another, there can be nothing of reality in it. And therefore the true Point of Honour consists not in the opinion which others have of us, but in the exercise of honest and virtuous actions, whether acknowledg'd for such, or not; yea, though they be despis'd or punish'd, it is sufficient to ren∣der such actions honourable, that the Conscience alone judge of their goodness.

CONFERENCE XX.

I. Of the Original of Fountains. II. Whether there be a commendable Ambition.

I. Of the Origi∣nal of Foun∣tains.

THe First said, That Springs and Rivers come from the Sea, otherwise it would receive a great augmentation by the daily addition of their streams, if it should not suffer an equal di∣minution by their derivation from it. Therefore the Wise-man saith, All Rivers go into the Sea, and the Sea is not increased thereby; and afterwards they return to the place from whence they came, that they may go forth again. Yea, it would be a perpetual Miracle, if after about six thousand years since the Creation of the World the Sea were not grown bigger by all the great Ri∣vers it receives, seeing the Danubius alone, were it stop'd but during one year, would be sufficient to drown all Europe. But how can the Water, of its own nature heavy and unactive, espe∣cially that of the Sea, be carried up to the highest Mountains? As we see the L' Isere, and the Durance, and other Rivers, descend from the tops of the Alps, upon which there are Lakes and Springs in great number, as in Mont-Cenis, Saint Bernard, and Saint Godart. This proceeds from the gravity of the Earth, which alwayes inclining towards its own centre, bears upon the Sea, and so pressing upon the Water, causeth it to rise up into the veins and passages of the Earth; (a resemblance whereof is seen in Pumps) by which passages it is strain'd and depriv'd of its saltness. Which quality is easily separable from Sea-water; for upon the shores of Africa there are pits of fresh Water, which cannot come from elsewhere. And if Water mingled with Wine be separated from the same by a cup made of Ivy wood, why not the saltness of the Water too? Thence also it is that Springs retain the qualities of the places through which they pass, having put off those which they deriv'd from their Original.

The Second said, That the Waters are carried upwards by the virtue of the Coelestial Bodies, which attract the same without any violence; it being in a manner natural to Inferior Bodies to obey the Superior, and follow the motion which they impress upon them. Unless we had rather ascribe this effect to God,

who having for the common good of all the world caus'd the Water in the beginning to ascend to the highest places, it hath alwayes follow'd that same motion by natural consecution and the fear of that Vacuity. And of this we have a small instance in the experiment of Syphons.

The Third said, He conceiv'd, with Aristotle, that Springs are generated in cavities and large spaces of the Middle Region of the Earth, which Nature (who abhorreth Vacuity) fills with Air, insinuated thereinto by the pores and chinks, and condens∣ed afterwards by the coldness of the Earth: Which coldness is so much the greater as that Region is remote from all external agents which might alter it. This condensed Air is resolv'd into drops of Water, and these drops soon after descending by their own weight into one and the same place, glide along till they meet with others like themselves, and so give beginning to a Spring. For as of many Springs uniting their streams a great River is made, so of many drops of Water is made a Spring. Hence it comes to pass that we ordinarily find Springs in Moun∣tains and high places, as being most hollow and full of Air, which becomes condens'd and resolv'd into Water so much the more easily as the Mountains are nearer the Middle Region of the Air, apt by its vapourous quality to be turn'd into Water, as well in those Gavities as in the Clouds; or else because they are most expos'd to the coldest Winds, and usually cover'd with Snow.

The Fourth said, That there is no transformation of Ele∣ments, and therefore Air cannot be turn'd into Water. For whereas we see drops of Water fall from the surface of Marble or Glass, 'tis not that the Air is turn'd into Water, but this moist Air is full of damp vapours, which are nothing but Water rarifi'd, and which meeting with those cold and solid Bodies, are condens'd and return'd to their first Nature. Wherefore the Air is so far from being the cause of so many Springs and Rivers which water the Earth, that on the contrary, all the Air in the world (provided it be not mixt with Water) cannot make so much as one drop. It is more probable that in the beginning of the world, when God divided the Elements and the Waters from the Waters which cover'd the whole surface of the Earth, he gather'd the grossest and most unprofitable water into one mass▪ which he called Sea, and dispersed through the rest of the Earth the fresh Water, more clear and pure, to serve for the necessities of the Earth, Plants, and living Creatures. Moreover, the Scripture makes mention of four great Rivers issuing out of the terrestrial Paradise, and a Fountain in the middle of it, which water'd the whole surface of the Earth from the Creation. In not being possible that Air resolv'd into Water could make so great a quantity of waters in so little time.

The Fifth added. That those Waters would soon be dry'd up without a new production, for which Nature hath provided

by Rain, which falling upon the Earth is gather'd together in Subterraneous Cavernes; which are as so many Reservers for Springs, according to Seneca's opinion. This is prov'd, 1. Be∣cause in places where it rains not, as in the Desarts of Arabia and Aethiopia, there is scarce any Springs; on the other side, they are very frequent in Europe which aboundeth with rain. 2. Wa∣ters are very low in Summer when it rains but little; and in Winter so high that they overflow their banks, because the season is pluvious. 3. Hence it is that most Rivers and Springs break forth at the foot of Mountains, as being but the rain water descended thither from their tops.

The Sixth said, That it is true that Rivers are increased by Rain, but yet have not their original from it. For were it so, then in great droughts our Rivers would be dry'd up as well as the Brooks. As for Springs, they are not so much as increas'd by Rain; for we see by experience, that it goes no deeper into the earth then seven or eight feet. On the contrary, the deeper you dig, the more Springs you meet with. Nor is the Air, in my judge∣ment, the cause thereof, there being no probability that there is under the earth cavernes so spacious and full of Air sufficient to make so great a quantity of Water; since there needs ten times as much Air as Water to produce it. Neither can the Sea be the cause of Springs; since, according to the Maxime of Hy∣draulick, Water cannot ascend higher the place of its original, but if Springs were from the Sea, then they could not be higher then the level thereof; and we should see none upon the tops of Mountains. Now that the Sea lies lower then Springs and Rivers, is apparent, because they descend all thitherwards.

The Seventh said, That Waters coming from the Sea, and gli∣ding in the bowels of the Earth, meet with Subterranean Fires, which are there in great quantity, whereby they are heated and resolv'd into Vapours. These Vapours compos'd of Water and Fire, mounting upwards, meet some Rocks or other solid Bodies, against which they stick and are return'd into Water; the Fire which was in them escaping through the Pores of those Bodies, the Water trickles forth by the clefts and crevisses of the Rocks, or other sloping places.

The Eighth said, That as Art can draw forth Water by De∣stillation, Expression, and other wayes taught by Chymistrie; so by stronger reason Nature cannot want wayes to do the same, and possibly in divers sorts, according to the various disposition of places, and of the matter which she employes to that use.

II. Whether there is any Ambition commendable.

Upon the Second Subject it was said, That there is some cor∣respondence between the two Questions; for as Water serves for a Medium of Union in natural Composition; so Ambition serves to familiarise pains and dangers in great enterprizes. For it makes Children strive to get credit in little exercises; and Men think nothing so high but may be soar'd to by the wings of Am∣bitior.

Juvenal indeed gives Wings to necessity, when he saith, A Hungry Greek will fly up to Heaven if they command him; and Virgil saith, Fear adds Wings to the heels of the terrifi'd; but those of Ambition are much more frequent in our Language. 'Tis true, Ambition may many times beat and stretch forth its Wings, but can no more exalt it self into the Air then the Estrich. Some∣times it soars too high, as Icarus did, and so near the light that it is burnt therein like Flyes. For the ambitious usually mounts up with might and main, but thinks not how he shall come down again. This Passion is so envious, that it makes those possess'd therewith hate all like themselves, and justle them to put them behind. Yea, it is so eager that it meets few obstacles which yield not to its exorbitant pertinacy; insomuch that it causeth Men to do contrary to do what they pretend, and shamefully to obey some, that they may get the command over others. The importunateness of Ambition is proof against all check or denyal; and the ambitious is like the Clot-burr, which once fastned upon the clothes is not easily shaken off. When he is once near the Court, neither affronts nor other rubs can readily repell him thence. And because his Essence consists in appearance, he many times wears his Lands upon his back; and if he cannot at once pride himself in his Table, his Clothes, and his Train, yet he will rather shew the body of a Spaniard, then the belly of a Swiss. At his coming abroad, he oftentimes picks his teeth while his gutts grumble, he feeds upon aiery viands. When he ha's been so lucky as to snap some office, before he ha's warm'd the place, his desires are gaping after another: He looks upon the first but as a step to a second, and thinks himself still to low, if he be not upon the highest round of the ladder; where he needs a good Brain lest he lose his judgement, and where it is as hard to stand, as 'tis impossible to ascend, and shameful to descend. Others observing, That Honour is like a shadow, which flyes from its pursuers, and follows those that flie it, have indeed no less Ambition then the former, (for I know no condition, how private soever, that is free from it) but they artificially conceal it; like those who carry a dark Lanthorn in the night, they have no less fire then others, but they hide it better. They are like Thieves that shooe their Horses the wrong way, that they may seem by their steps to come from the place whither they are going; or else like those who hunt the Hyena. This Beast loves the voice of Man so much that she trusts in it; and (say the Historians) she understands it so well, that when the Hunters would take her, they must cry, I will not have her, I will not have her. But when once they have obtain'd the Honour at which they thus aim'd, by contrary pretensions, they shew suffici∣ently that they desir'd it.

The Second said, That Ambition is a desire of exalting our selves, and over-topping the common sort. The Object of it is Honour, in the pursuite of which three things are consider'd;

namely, the Mediocrity, the Excess, and the Defect. The Medi∣ocrity is call'd Magnanimity, or greatness of Courage, by which we seek the great Honours which we merit. The Excess is called Vanity, when we pursue great dignities which we deserve not. The Defect is called Pusillanimity, when a Man hath so little Spi∣rit that he deprives himself of Honours, though he is worthy of them. Now as Liberality answers to Magnificence, so to Magna∣nimity answers another Virtue which hath no name in Aristotle, and differs from it but in degree. For that hath regard to great Honours, and this to moderate; and, as all other Virtues, it hath its two vicious Extremes, its Excess, which is call'd Ambition, and its Defect, which is want of Ambition. Moreover, there are two kinds of Ambition. One which is bounded within the limits of each condition, whereby every one desires to become perfect in his Art, and to excell others of the same condition; which is very laudable, and argues that he whom it possesses hath some∣thing more excellent in him then the vulgar. The Other is that which carries us to Honours, which greatly exceed the bounds of our condition, and are not due to us. This is very blameable and dangerous, because it causes great confusion in Mens Minds, and consequently in States. For what is more absurd, then for a Citizen to act a Gentleman, or a Gentleman a Prince? Yea, even this last ought to set bounds to his Ambition.

The Third added, That things are to be judg'd of by their Effects; and we see most of the mischiefs which come to pass now in the World are caus'd by the Ambition of those who weary of their condition, in which if they continu'd they would be happy, by all means seek after others which seem higher: Am∣bition making them prefer before the good which they know an evil which they know not; because this Passion represents the same to them under the semblance of a greater good. Where∣fore the Julian Law was introduc'd with good reason, to check and moderate this exorbitant appetite of Honours.

The Fourth said, That indeed extreme and immoderate Am∣bition is a perpetual rack and torture to the Soul, and begets an Hydropick Thirst in it, which all the waters of the World cannot allay. But that which is moderate, in my judgement, is not onely unblameable, but very praise-worthy; since it is a desire of perfection, and never any person was ambitious in this man∣ner, but he was either virtuous, or in the way to be so. For this Ambition proceeds from a desire of glory, and being accounted better greater, and wiser then others; and it is grounded upon the knowledge we have, and would derive to others of our peculiar merit. And though the Man be not virtuous, yet there is no∣thing more proper to render him so then such Ambition; one of the most powerful spurs to encourage a well-temper'd Soul to Virtue. 'Tis an Instrument that smooths all its rough paths. 'Tis a flame that enkindles generous purposes in the Soul to sur∣mount all kinds of obstacles. Would you see its excellence?

Compare this Ambition, from whence sprang those brave thoughts which brought so great glory to Alexander, Caesar, and all those other Heroes of Antiquity, with the shameful sloth of the infamous Sardanapalus, Heliogabalus, and other Epicures buried in the ordures of their vices, for want of this noble desire of glory. But it is most remarkable, in reference to Ambition, that they who blame it are themselves ambitious; for they do so, onely to ostentate themselves; and they who have written Books against Vain-glory, have yet set their Names in the frontis-piece; and wherefore, but to be talk'd of?

The Fifth said, That the Goodness or Badness of all Actions, depending onely upon their good or bad End, it must be affirmed likewise, concerning Ambition, that it is blameable or commend∣able; according as he who seeketh Honours hath an honest or dishonest End, and pursues the same by lawful or oblique courses.

The Sixth said, It is so true that there is a laudable Ambition, that not ouely all that is rare in Arts and Sciences, but also all the bravest Heroick Actions owe their being to it. 'Tis one of the most commendable Virtues naturall to Man, and inseparable from a gallant Spirit; It is so much the more excellent, in that it hath for its Object the most excellent of all external Goods, namely, Honour, which Men offer to God, as the most precious thing they have, and which Legislators (finding nothing more valuable) propose for the guerdon of Virtre. This may serve to explain what is commonly said, That Virtue is a reward to it self: Legislators having determin'd that Virtuous Men should find the recompence of their brave Actions, in that noble desire of the glory which they deserve. So that he is no less blameable who deserving Honours and Dignities, and being able to sup∣port and exercise them worthily and profitably to the publick, doth not seek them, then he that strives for them and is un∣worthy thereof. Yea, the former seems to me much more blame-worthy then the latter, whose Ambition, though immo∣derate, denotes greatness of Spirit; whereas the former, too much distrusting himself, and not daring to attain or reach forth his hand to what appertains by right unto him, shews abundantly the lowness of his Mind, or the little account he makes of Virtue, by sleighting Honour which is the shadow and reward of it, and depriving himself of the means to perform Virtuous Actions, which he may better exercise in Offices and Dignities then in a private life: And which is more, he sets a pernicious example to his fellow-citizens to neglect that Recompence of Virtue, which costs the State less then any other.

CONFERENCE XXI.

I. Of Dreams. II. Why Men are rather inclin'd to Vice then Virtue.

I. Of Dreams.

IT is no wonder that Men seek the interpretation of Dreams. For having from all times bent their Minds to foresee the Fu∣ture, (as the Desire of becoming like God by the Faculty of Di∣vining hath been transmitted from the First Man to all his Po∣sterity) it seems the Images of things presented to them in the night are unprofitable to any other end besides this. And truly since the highest pitch of every Faculty consists in Divination, and the Holy Scripture hath nothing so wonderful as its Prophe∣cies; Physick, nothing so admirable as the Prognostication of dis∣eases; Civil Law, then the Resolution of the good or bad success of an Affair; Yea, since the in extinguishable thirst after the Fu∣ture hath induc'd all Ethnick Antiquity to feed Fowls for Au∣gury, to immolate Sacrifices for presaging their good or bad Fortune; there is some ground to pardon them and all others who seek some glimmerings of the future in Dreams. I conceive, the most Incredulous, reading in the Scripture that seven lean kine devouring so many fat ones presag'd seven years Famine which consum'd all the store of seven other fertile years; and moreover, the truth confirm'd by the event of the Dreams of so many others, cannot but have them in some reverence. But on the other side, when every one considers how many Phancies come into our heads in sleep, both sick and well, the truth where∣of is so rare that it may be compar'd to that of Almanacks, which setting down all sorts of weather, sometimes happen right upon one; or to those bad Archers, who shooting all day long, glory if they once hit the mark; he presently concludes that credit is not lightly to be given to them. Wherefore I think after explication how Dreams are caused, it will be fit to examine whether there be any connexion or affinity between the things which we dream and those which are to come to pass, as there was between the Aegyptian Hieroglyphicks which the things sig∣nifi'd by them, and as there is at this day in the Characters of China, and in the Signatures observ'd by some Physitians between some Plants and the Parts or Diseases to which they are proper. For it is not without some hidden reason, that Experience hath caus'd so many persons to take notice, that as (for example) Death and Marriage make a great stir and alteration in the house where they happen, so the one is usually the indicatour of the other; that because the Hen makes a cry when she layes her Eggs, from whence is produc'd a Chicken that cryes too, there∣fore Eggs signifie brawls or quarrels; that Pearls signifie Tears, because they resemble them; that as the Serpent is alwayes mis∣chievous,

and moves along with little noise, so he denotes secret Enemies; and the cutting off his head, the getting the better of one's Enemies; that as our Teeth are not pluck'd out without pain, so to dream that they fall out, prefigures the death of a Relation; and other such things which cannot be number'd but by a Calepine, much less the interpretation thereof un∣folded.

The Second said That Dreams are caus'd by the rising of vapours from the Stomack to the Brain, by whose coldness they are condens'd; and then falling like a gentle dew upon the Nerves, and stopping the passages by which the Animal Spirits issue to the outward senses, the species of objects which we re∣ceiv'd awake, and were then confus'd and agitated by heat, settle by little and little, and become as clearly discern'd as when we were awake: Or else, our Imagination, which (as Aristotle saith) is like a Painter who makes a mixture of divers colours) joyning several of those species together, formes chi∣mera's and other strange images which have no antitype in Na∣ture. Just as a Child drawing accidentally certain Letters out of a heap mingled together, joynes them and formes words of them which have no sense. And as dirty or stirred waters doth not represent any Image, or very badly; so the Imagina∣tion being embroil'd and agitated by the gross fumes of the meat which arise after the first sleep, represents ill, or not at all, the ima∣ges of things which it hath in it self. Hence it is that Drunkards and Children dream little or not at all, and that the Dreams of the first part of the night are turbulent, and those of the morning more tranquil and quiet, to which alone therefore credit is to be given. So that Interpreters of Dreams account the same nearer or farther from their Effect, according as they more or less ap∣proach the day-break.

The Third said, That Dreams are different according to the different Causes whence they proceed; which are either within us or without us. That which is within us is either Natural, or Animal, or Moral; from which arise three different kinds of Dreams. The Natural are usually suitable to the complexion of the Body, and constitution of Humours. Thus the Bilious or Cholerick, dreams of fire and slaughter: The Pituitous, or Flegmatick dreams that he is swimming, fishing, or falling: The Melancholy sees sad and dismal things in his sleep: The San∣guine hath pleasures and jollities in his Phancy. The Animal proceed from our ordinary employments, and cause the actions on thoughts of the day to be represented again to the Imaginati∣on in the night. The Moral follow the good or bad inclinations of every one. Thus the Voluptuous person dreams of Delights, and the Ambitious of Honours. The external cause of Dreams is either God or Angels, and these either good or bad; and they either imprint new species upon the Phancy, or dispose those which are in it before, so as thereby to advertise us of things

which concern us. These alone, in my opinion, are those that are to be taken notice of.

The Fourth said, That besides these causes of Dreams, there are also some corporeal causes, as the temper of the Air, or the constitution of the Heavens, and the nature of places; to which is to be refer'd the relation of Ammianus Marcellinus, That the Atlantick people have no Dreams; as also the common report, that they who lay Lawrel-leaves under their heads when they go to sleep have true Dreams; together with the Observation of Aristotle, that if a Candle cast the least glimpse before the Eyes of such as are a sleep, or a little noise be made near them, they will dream that they see Lightning and hear Thunder; it being proper to the Soul when we are a sleep to make an Ele∣phant of a Flie.

The Fifth said, That the chief inquiry in this matter, is, How any Dreams can signifie that which is Future, and what connexion there is between the figures which Dreams represent to us, and the thing signifi'd to us by them. For it is certain, in the first place, that Dreams have some affinity and conformity with our Temper; This with our Manners; our Manners with our Actions; and finally, our Actions with the Accidents which betide us. Whence it appears, that according to this series, Dreams have some great correspondence with those Accidents. For the Soul, which knows our Temper, and by necessary sequel our Manners and Actions, beholds in those three together the Accidents of our Life; which are annex'd, represented, and contained potentially in them, as Fruits and Trees are in Flowers and Seeds. But as Flowers and Seeds are very different in Figure from the Fruits and Trees which they produce; so the Characters of the Acci∣dents of our Life being contained, or rather produced by our Temper, our Manners and Actions are represented to the Soul under the various species of things which are to befall us; be∣cause being linked by a streight bond to this corporeal mass, it cannot judge before-hand of things to come, nor admonish us thereof but by the representation of certain Images which we have some resemblance and agreement with those Accidents. These Images are different in all Men, according to their several Sympathies and Antipathies, Aversions and Complacencies, or according to the different beliefs which we have taken up by a strong Imagination, or by hear-say, that such or such Figures represented in a Dream signifie such or such things. For in this case, the Soul conjecturing by those impressions which are found in our Temper, is constrain'd to represent the same to us by the Images which our Imagination first admitted and apprehended either as unfortunate, or lucky and of good Augury. But if there be any Dreams which presage to us Accidents purely for∣tuitous, and wholly remote from our Temper, Manners, and Actions, they depend upon another Cause.

The Sixth said, That as during sleep the Animal and inferior

part of Man performs its office best, concocting the nourishment more succesfully; so his superior part being then (according as Trismegistus saith) more loose and unlinked from the Body, acts more perfectly then during the time we are awake. For being freed and loosned from the senses and corporeal affections, it hath more particular converse with God and Angels, and re∣ceives from all parts intelligence of things in agitation. And, ac∣cording to Anaxagoras, all things bear the Image one of ano∣ther; whence, if there be any effect in Nature which is known in its cause, as a tempest in the Sea, a Murder in the Woods, a Robbery or other accident upon the High-way; the Power, which is to be the original thereof, sends a Copy and Image of the same into the Soul.

The Seventh said, That he as little believ'd that the Species and Images of things come to the Soul, as that the Soul goes forth to seek them during sleep, roving and wandring about the world, as it is reported of the Soul of Hermotimus the Clazome∣nian. Aristotle indeed saith, that there are some subtile natures which seem to have some pre-science of what is to come; but I think it surpasseth the reach of the Humane Soul, which being unable to know why a Tree produceth rather such a Fruit then another, can much less know why those species are determin'd, rather to signifie one thing then another.

The Eighth said, He could not commend the superstitious curiosity of those who seek the explication of Dreams, since God forbids expresly in the Law to observe them; and the Wise-man assures us, that they have caus'd many to stumble and fall. And why should the things which we fancy in the right have more signification then if we imagin'd them in the day? For Example, If one dream in the night that he flyes, is there any more reason to conjecture from thence that he shall arise to greatness, then if the thought of flying had come into his Mind in the day time; with which in the dayes of our Fathers an Italian had so ill success, having broken his neck by attempt∣ing to flie from the top of the Tower De Nesse in this City; a fair Example not to mount so high.

II. Why Men are rather in∣clin'd to Vice then to Virtue

Upon the Second Point, it was said, That our Inclinations tend rather to Vice then to Virtue, because Delight is alwayes concomitant to Vice, as Honesty is to Virtue. Now Delight being more facile, and honesty more laborious, therefore we follow rather the former then the latter. Moreover, the Present hath more power to move our Inclinations, because it is nearer then the Future, which as yet is nothing. Now Delight is accounted as present in a Vicious Action, and the reward of Virtue is look'd upon as a far off and in futurity. Whence Vice bears a greater stroke with us then Virtue. If it be objected that a Virtuous Action hath alwayes its reward inseparable, be∣cause Virtue is a Recompence to it self; I answer, that this is

not found true, but by a reflection and ratiocination of the Mind, which hath little correspondence with our gross senses; and therefore this recompence, which is onely in the Mind, doth not gratifie us so much as the pleasures of the Body, which have a per∣fect correspondence with our corporeal senses by whom the same are gusted in their full latitude. But why doth Vice seem so agree∣able to us, being of its own nature so deformed? I answer, that it was necessary that it should be accompani'd and sweetned with Pleasure; otherwise the eschewing of Evil, ond the pursu∣ing of Virtue, would not have been meritorious, because there would have been no difficulty therein. Moreover, Nature hath been forc'd to season the Actions of Life with Pleasure, lest they should become indifferent and neglected by us. Now Vice is onely an Excessive or Exorbitant exercising of the Actions of Life which are agreeable to us; And Virtues are the Rules and Moderators of the same Actions. But why are not we contented with a Mediocrity of those Actions? 'Tis because Life consists in Action, which is the more such, when it is extended to the whole length and breadth of its activity, and ownes no bounds to re∣strain its liberty.

The Second said, All would be more inclin'd to Virtue then to Vice, were it considerd in it self, there being no Man so deprav'd but desires to be virtuous. The covetous had rather be virtuous and have wealth, then be rich without Virtue. But its difficulty, the companion of all excellent things, is the cause that we decline it. And we judge this difficulty the greater, for that our Passions carry the natural and laudable in∣clinations of our Soul to Vice, which is much more familiar and facile to them then Virtue. Wherefore Aristotle saith, all Men admit this General Proposition, That Virtue ought to be follow'd; But they fail altogether in the particulars of it. Besides, Man is able to do nothing without the Ministry of his Senses; and when, in spight of difficulties, he raises himself to some Virtuous Action, presently the Sensitive Appetite repugnes against it; and as many inferior Faculties as he hath, they are so many rebellious and mutinous Subjects, who refuse to obey the Command of their Sovereign. This Intestine Warr was brought upon Man as a punishment for his first sin; ever since which, Reason, which absolutely rul'd over the Sensitive Appetite, hath been counter∣check'd and mast'red by it.

The Third said, As there are a thousand wayes of straying and erring from the mark, and but one, and that a strait, line to attain it; so it is possible to exceed or be deficient in Virtue infinite wayes, but there is onely one point to acquire its Me∣diocrity.

The Fourth affirmed, That the way of Vice being more spa∣cious then that of Virtue, yea, Evil (according to Pythagoras) infinite, and Good bounded; it follows that there are infinite∣ly more Vices then Virtues; and therefore is not to be won∣dered

if there be more vicious persons then virtuous.

The Fifth said, We are not to seek the cause of our vicious inclinations other where then within our selves; it being de∣riv'd from the structure and composition of our Bodies. For he who hath not what to eat, and wherewith to defend himself from cold, or who fears distress, finds the seeds of theft in his na∣tural inclination of self-preservation. The same Fear makes him become covetous. When any thing obstructs the accom∣plishing of his wishes, if he be weak, he becomes sad thereupon; if strong, he falls into Choler. This Passion leads him to re∣venge, the height of whose violence is Murther. If the enjoy∣ment thereof be free to him, the pleasure which he takes therein produceth Luxury and debaucheries; and thus 'tis with all Vices. On the contrary, poor Virtue meets with nothing in us but opposition: The Stomack, the Intestines, and all the natural parts revolt against Temperance and Continence: The Chole∣rick Humour fights against Clemency: Covetousness inciteth to Injustice; the Comparison of our condition with that of our betters, to Ambition and Envy; with that of our Inferi∣ors, to Pride and Disdain. In brief, Virtue finds nothing in us that makes for her interest, which seems to me the reason why it is less familiar to us then Vice.

The Sixth said, No person is either vicious or virtuous of his own nature, but he becomes so by Instruction and Custome. Instruction is so powerful, that it makes even Beasts capable of Discipline. Custome is of such influence, that it is rightly term'd an other nature. Wherefore our being rather vicious then virtuons, is not from any natural inclination. For, on the contrary, we have the seeds and sparks of Virtue within us; and I almost believe, with Plato, that when Men become vicious, it is by force and against their nature. But the fault proceeds from our bad Education and corrupt Customes, which become yet worse by the conversation of vicious persons, who are very numerous.

The Seventh said, Though we consent more easily to Virtue then to Vice, yet the number of the good and virtuous being less then that of the wicked and vicious, hath caus'd the contrary to be believ'd. The reason whereof is not the difficulty of doing well; but because Vices are esteem'd and rewarded instead of being punish'd, and Virtue instead of Recompence receives no∣thing but Contempt: So the Exorbitancy of Clothes, instead of being punish'd, causeth him to be honoured who is unworthy to be so. Wherefore if there were a State in which Reward and Punishment were duly dispens'd from the Cradle, it would be a rarer thing to see a wicked man there then a black Swan; because the good which we love, and the evil which we hate, would be inseparably joyn'd together, the one with Virtue, and the other with Vice.

CONFERENCE XXII.

I. Of Judiciary Astrology. II. Which is least blameable, Covetousness or Prodigality.

I. Of Judiciary Astrology.

THe weakness of our reasoning is a strong argument to abate the presumption of our being able to judge of the power of the Stars. For if we are ignorant of the nature of the least Herb we tread upon, we must be more so of that of the Celoestial Bodies which are so remote from us and our knowledge, that the greatest masters of this Art dispute still, whether every Star be a several world, whether they are solid or not, what quali∣ties they have, and which are the true places. Besides, the lo∣cal motion of Animals may wholly frustrate the effect of their influences. And if Xanthus hindred the Sun from making his head ake when he walk'd abroad, and the Moon doth not chill those that are in the house, certainly the effects of less active and remoter Stars may be declin'd by the same wayes; since Fire, the most active thing in nature, doth not burn if the hand be mov'd swiftly over it. And what more was to be fear'd by Americus Vesputius, Ferdinand Magellan, and others, who sail'd round the Earth one way, whil'st the Heaven turn'd the other? Why should we seek in Heaven the Causes of Accidents which befall us, if we find them on Earth? And why should we look so far for what is so near? Is it not more fit to refer the cause of Knowledge to study; of Riches and Honour, to Birth, Merit, or Favour; of Victory, to the dexterity and diligence of the General, who cast his contrivance well to surprize his Enemy, then to attribute these Events to the Planets? If experience be alledg'd to manifest the effect of many Predictions; I answer,▪ that as the Animal which is said to have made a letter by chance with its Hoof in the dust, was no Scribe for all that; so though amongst a thousand false predictions, one by chance proves true, yet is not the Art ever the more certain. Yea, I will urge it against themselves; for it is not credible that we should see so many un∣fortunate Astrologers, if they could fore-see their own infelicity; or else they must acknowledge themselves fools; since they grant that the Wise-man rules over the Stars.

The Second said, That every thing here below suffers muta∣tion, and nothing is able to change it self; whence it follows that that which is the cause of Alteration must it self be exempt from the same. Whence consequently the Heavens which are the sole Body that suffer no change, must be the cause of all mu∣tation. For the Elements are the material cause thereof, and therefore cannot be the Efficient. And as the Stars are the thickest and onely visible part of Heaven, so they have most light and influence, by which (assisted with their motions) they com∣municate

their qualities to the Air, the Air to the Bodies which it toucheth, especially to the humours in Man, over which it hath such power, that its diversity diversifyes all the com∣plexions of Man-kind. Now our Humours model our Manners, and these our most particular Actions. They may talk that the Wise-man over-rules the Stars, but Experience shews that the Stars guide the Will, not by compelling it, but by inclining it in such a manner that it cannot resist; because they subminister to it the means determined to the End whereunto they incline it; whence it is as hard (yea, impossible) for it to draw back, as for a Drunkard to forbear drinking when he is very thirsty and hath the bottle at his command. The Impostures which are af∣firm'd of the Casters of Nativities, can no more prejudice or disparage Judiciary Astrology, then Mountebanks do Physick. Yea, though the state of Heaven be never twice the same, yet is it not so in the subjects of all other Disciplines. Never were two diseases found altogether alike in Physick; nor in Law two Cases alike in all their circumstances; yet the Precepts of thse Sciences are nevertheless true; because it sufficeth that the prin∣cipal conditions concur, as it is also sufficient that the same prin∣cipal aspects and situations of the Stars be found in Heaven, for the making of Rules in Judiciary Astrology.

The Third said, Every Effect followeth the Nature of its Cause, and therefore the Actions and Inclinations of the Soul cannot be ascrib'd to a corporeal cause, such as the Stars are; For if all were govern'd by their influences, we should see nothing but what were good, as being regulated by so good causes. I ac∣knowledge but two virtues in the Heavens, Motion and Light, by which alone, and not by any influences of occult qualities, they produce corporeal effects. Thus ought Aristotle to be un∣derstood, when he referreth the cause of the continual Generation of Inferior things, to the diversity of the Motions of the First Moveable and the Zodiack; And Hippocrates, when he fore∣telleth the events of Diseases by the several Houses of the Moon.

The Fourth said, It is impossible to make an Art of predicting by the Celoestial Motions, for five reasons, besides the dominion which our Will hath over Effects; without which it were free. 1. The Connexion that is between the Celoestial Bodies and the Sublunary is unknown to Men. 2. The diversity of the Celoestial Motions causeth that the Heaven is never in the same posture as it ought to be, for the making of a sure and certain Art grounded upon many repeated Experiments; according to which, like Effects are to be referr'd to like Causes. 3. The extreme rapid and violent turning about of the Heavens doth not afford to find the precise minute of a Nativity, for drawing the Theme or Figure of the true state of Heaven, which they say is necessary. 4. As of sixteen Consonants joyn'd with five Vowels are made words without number; so of a thousand

and twenty two Stars and more, with seven Planets, may be made Conjunctions and Combinations to infinity, which surpass the comprehension of humane wit; there being no Art of things infinite. 5. Two persons, or more, born at the same time under the same Elevation of the Pole, and disposition of the Heavens; (as they speak) yea, two Twins, as Jacob and Esau, are found oftentimes different in visage, complexion, inclination, condition, and end. But is it probable that a hundred Pioneers stifled in the same Mine, or ten thousand Men dying at the same battle have one and the same influence?

The Fifth said, God having from all eternlty numbred the hairs of our Heads, that is to say, foreseen even the least Acci∣dents which ought or may befall Men, he hath establish'd an order for them in the Heavens, disposing the course, aspects, and vari∣ous influences of the Stars, to draw out of Nothing those accidents at the time that they are to happen to Men, whom they incline to meet the same; yet so as to leave it in the power of their Free∣will to avoid or expose themselves unto them without any con∣straint. This truth is sufficiently confirm'd by the exact and ad∣mirable correspondence which is found between the most signal accidents of our lives, and the hour of our Nativities; so that Astrologers not onely conjecture by the time of the Nativity what is to come to pass, but they also come to the knowledge of the true minute of the Nativity, by the time at which acci∣dents arrive, and take this course to correct Horoscopes, and Figures ill drawn. And although long Experience may attest the certainty of this Art, yet I confess, since the faculties and qualities of the Stars are not perfectly known to us, and we can∣not alwayes precisely know the disposition of Heaven▪ much less all the combinations of the Stars; Astrology, in respect of us, is very uncertain and difficult, but not therefore the less true and admirable in it self. It is like a great Book printed in He∣brew Letters without points, which is cast aside and sleighted by the ignorant, and admir'd by the more intelligent. So the Heavens being enamel'd by Gods Hand with Stars and Planets as with bright Characters, which by their Combinations figure the various accidents which are to befall Men, are never con∣sider'd by the ignorant, to dive into their Mysteries, but onely by the Learned; who themselves many times commit mistakes when they go about to read them, because those shining Chara∣cters have no other Vowels, or rather no other voice, but that of God, who is the true Intelligence thereof.

The Sixth said, Three sorts of persons err touching the credit which is to be given to Astrological Predictions. Some believe them not at all, others believe them too little, and others too much. As for the first, since they cannot deny that the Stars are u∣niversal causes of sublunary effects; that such causes are of differ∣ent natures and virtues, and that their action and virtue is dispens'd by the motion which is successive and known; they

must of necessity confess, that knowing the disposition of sublu∣nary subjects, the nature of the Stars, and their motion, many natural effects may be fore-seen and fore-told from them. The Devil himself knows no future things certainly, but by fore∣seeing the effects of particular causes in their universal causes, which are the Stars. They who believe too little confess that the Stars act upon the Elements and mixt Bodies; for very Pea∣sants know thus much, besides many particular effects of the Moon. But as for Man, whose Soul of it self is not dependent upon any natural cause, but free, and Mistress of its own actions, they cannot, or for Religion's sake, dare not affirm that it is sub∣ject to Coelestial Influences, at least, in reference to manners. Yet it is no greater absurdity to say, that the Soul is subject to the Stars, then to say with Aristotle and Galen, that it is subject to the Temperament of the Body, which also is caus'd by the Starrs; from the influence and action whereof the Soul cannot exempt its Body, nor the Temperament thereof by which she acts. Lastly, they who give too much credit to the Stars hold that all things are guided by a fatal and irrevocable order of Nature; contrary to Reason, which admits the Author to be the Master of his own work; and to Experience, which assures us of the standing still of the Sun for Joshuah, of his going backward for Hezechiah, and of his Eclipse at full Moon during the Passion. The Fourth Opinion is certain, that there is truth in Astrologi∣cal Predictions; but it behoveth to believe them onely in a due measure, since the Science of it self is but conjectural.

II. Whether is less blame∣able, Avarice or Prodiga∣lity.

Upon the Second Point it was said, That Avarice is less blame∣able then Prodigality. For the latter is more fertile in bad actions then the former, which though otherwise vicious, yet refrains from the pleasures and debaucheries in which the Pro∣digal usually swims. The Holy Scripture intending to set forth an example of Infinite Mercy, relates that of the Prodigal Son, who obtain'd pardon of the sin which is least worthy of it. Moreover, Prodigality doth far less good then Covetousness, for this always looks at its own profit, and takes care for its own benefit, and the preservation of its dependents; so that it exerciseth at least the first fundamental of Charity, which is, to do well to those who are nearest us. On the contrary, Prodigality ruines and perverts the Laws of Nature, leading a Man to the destruction of his relatives, and the undoing of himself; like Saturn and Time, it devours its own issue, and consumes it self, to the dam∣age of the Common-wealth, whose interest it is that every Man use well what belongs to him. Therefore all Laws have enacted penalties against Prodigals, depriving them of the administration of their own Estates; and the most Sacred Edicts of our Kings aim at the correcting of the Luxury of Prodigality. But never were any Laws, Punishments, or inflictions ordained against Co∣vetousness, because Prodigality causeth the down-fall and de∣struction

of the most Illustrious Houses; which cannot be attri∣buted to Covetousness, for this seemes rather to have built them.

The Second said, That, according to Aristotle, amongst all the virtuous, none wins more Love then the Liberal, because there is alwayes something to be gotten by him; as amongst all the vicious none is more hated and shun'd by all the world then the covetous, who doth not onely not give any thing, but draws to himself the most he can from every one and from the publick, in which he accounts himself so little concern'd, that he considers it no farther then how he may make his profit of it. He is so loath to part with his treasures when he dyes, that he would gladly be his own Heir (as Hermocrates appointed himself by his Testament) or else he would swallow down his Crowns (as that other Miser did, whom Athenaeus mentions.) But the Prodigal (free from that self-interest, which causes so great troubles in the world) gives all to the publick, and keeps nothing for him∣self. Whence, according to Aristotle, the Prodigal is not so remote from Virtue as the Covetous, it being easier to make the former Liberal then the latter.

The Third said, These two Vices are equally oppos'd to Li∣berality, and consequently one as distant from it as the other. For as the Covetous is Vicious in that he receives too much and gives nothing; so is the Prodigal in that he gives too much and receives nothing at all, or receives onely to give. But Covet∣ousness hath this priviledge, that it finds a Virtue from which it is very little distant, namely, Frugality, or Parsimony, to which Prodigality is diametrically oppos'd. Nor is it of little advantage to it, that it is ordinarily found in Old Men, whom we account wiser then others; for having learn't by the experi∣ence of many years, that all friends have fail'd them in time of need, and that their surest refuge hath been their own Purse; they do not willingly part with what they have taken pains to gather together, which is another reason in favour of Covet∣ousness. For Virtue and Difficulty seem in a manner reciprocal. But Prodigality is very easie and usual to foolish Youth, which, thinking never to find the bottome of the barrel, draws forth incessantly, and gives so freely, that being over-taken with ne∣cessity, it is constraind to have recourse to Covetousness, which sets it upon its leggs again. Nor ever was there a Father that counsel'd his Son to be prodigal, but rather to be thrifty and close-handed. And yet the Gospel and Experience shew, that Fathers give and advise what is most expedient to their Children.

The Fourth said, As Rashness is much less blameable then Cowardice, so is Prodigality then Avarice. For the Prodigal holding it ignominious to receive, and glorious alwayes to give, likes rather to deprive and devest himself of his goods, then to deny any one whatsoever. On the other side, the Covetous

doth nothing but receive on all hands; and never gives any thing but with hope to receive more. Now it is much more noble to give then to receive; for Giving supposes Having. The Prodi∣gal knowing well that goods and riches are given by God, onely to serve for necessary instruments to the living more commodi∣ously, and that they are not riches if they be not made use of, employes them, and accommodates himself and others therewith; but the Covetous doth not so much as make use of them for him∣self, and so destroyes their end.

The Fifth said, If the Question did not oblige us to compare these two Vices together, I should follow Demosthenes's sentence which he gave in the quarrel of two Thieves that accus'd one another, which was, that the one should be banish'd Athens, and the other should run after him. I should no less drive out of a well-policy'd State the Covetous and the Prodigal. The first is Aesop's Dogg, who keeps the Ox from eating the hay, whereof himself tasts not; like the Bears who hinder Men from approaching Mines of Gold, and yet make no use there∣of. The other is like those Fruit-trees which grow in Precipices, of which onely Crows and Birds of prey eat the Fruit; vicious persons alone ordinarily get benefit by them. But yet this latter Vice seemes to me more pernicious then the other. For whether you consider them in particular, The Covetous raises an Estate which many times serves to educate and support better Men then himself: But Prodigality is the certain ruine of their Fortunes who are addicted to it, and carries them further to all other Vices, to which Necessity serves more truly for a cause then reasonably for an excuse; or whether you consider them in ge∣neral, 'tis the most ordinary overthrow of States. And possibly he that should seek the true cause of publick Inconveniences, would sooner find it in Luxury and Prodigality, then in any thing else. Therefore Solons's Law declar'd Prodigals infamous, and gave power to their Creditors to dis-member them and cut them in pieces. Our Ordinances, in imitation of the Roman Law, which ranks them under the predicament of Mad-men, forbids and deprives them of the administration of their own goods, as not knowing how to use them.

The Sixth said, Avarice is like those Gulfes that swallow up Ships, and never disgorge them again; and Prodigality like a Rock that causes shipwracks, the ruines whereof are cast upon the coasts of Barbarians; and therefore both of them ought to be banish'd, and I have no Vote for either. Yet Prodigality seemes to me more fair, and Covetousness more severe.

CONFERENCE XXIII.

I. Of Physiognomy. II. Of Artificial Memory.

I. Of Physiog∣nomy.

THeophrastus accusing Nature for not having made a window to the Heart, perhaps meant; to the Soul. For though the Heart were seen naked, yet would not the intentions be vi∣sible; they reside in another apartment. The Countenance, and amongst its other parts, the Eye seemes to be the most faith∣full messenger thereof. It doth not onely intimate sickness and health, it shews also hatred and love, anger and fear, joy and sadness. In short, 'tis the true mirror of the Body and the Soul, unless when the Visage puts on the mask of Hypocrisie, against which we read indeed some experiences; as when Ʋlysses dis∣cover'd the dissimulation of Achilles, disguis'd in the dress of a Damsel, by the gracefullness wherewith he saw him wield a sword; but there are no rules or maximes against it, and never less then in this Age of counterseits; in which he that is not de∣ceiv'd, well deserves the name of Master. For security from it, some ingenious persons have invented Rules whereby the in∣clinations of every one may be discern'd; as Masons applying the Rule, Square, and Level upon a stone, judge whether it incline more to one side then the other. For you see there are many different species of Animals, every one whereof is again subdivided into many others, as is observ'd in Doggs and Horses; but there are more different sorts of Men. Whence the Philosophers of old took up the opinion of Metempsychoses, or Transanimations, imagining there could not but be (for ex∣ample) the Soul of a Fox in those whom they found very crafty; and that the Soul which delighted to plunge it self in filthiness and impurity must needs have been heretofore in the Body of a swine. And though the outward shape of Man puts a vail upon all those differences, yet they are visible through the same to those who have a good sight; as we may distinguish Ladies through the Cypress with which they vail themselves at this day, it we take good heed, otherwise we may be mistaken. We must therefore inquire, here, whether through the external figure common to all Men, what every one hath peculiar be not the sign of his inclinations; either as the Effect, or as the Cause of the same: As redness of the Cheeks is usually an argument of the disposition of the Lungs. Nor is it material to know why it is a sign, it sufficeth to me to know that it is so. To which the variety of Bodies, and especially of Faces, affords great probability, be∣cause Nature hath made nothing in vain; and why this variety, unless to serve for a sign, since it serves to distinguish them?

The Second said, Physiognomy is the knowledge of the inside by the outside, that is, of the affections and inclinations of the Mind by external and sensible signes, as colour and Figure. It

is grounded upon the correspondence of the Soul with the Body, which is such that they manifestly participate the affecti∣ons one of the other. If the Body be sick, the Soul is alter'd in its operations, as we see in high Fevers. On the contrary, let the Soul be sad or joyful, the Body is so too. Therefore the Sophisters of old purg'd themselves with Hellebor when they would dispute best. For though in its essence the Soul depends not on the corporeal Organs, yet it depends upon the same in its operations, which are different according to the divers stru∣cture of the Organs; which, if they were alike dispos'd, their actions would be alike in all, and at all times. Whence, (saith Aristotle) an old man would see as clear as a young man, if he had the Eyes of a young man.

The Third said, To make a certain judgement upon external signes, heed must be taken that they be natural. For 'tis possible for one of a Sanguine Constitution to have a pale and whitish colour, either through fear, sickness, study, or some other acci∣dent. The Phlegmatick when he hath drunk to excess, been at a good fire, is in anger, or asham'd of something, will have a red Face. And yet he that should argue from these signes would be mistaken.

The Fourth said, Since Physiognomists grant that their Rules are not to be apply'd but to Men void of all Passions, which so change the Body that it seemes another from it self; I conceive, this Art is altogether impossible. For I would know in what moment we are to be taken without Sadness, Joy, Hatred, Love, Anger; in short, without any of those Passions so inseparable from our Life, that Xanthus found no better way to be reveng'd on Aesop, then to ask him for a Man that car'd for nothing; such as he would be that should have no Passions. What then will become of the goodly Rules of Physiognomy, after that Edu∣cation of Youth hath corrected perverse inclinations, that Philo∣sophy hath given the lie to the Physiognomists of this Age, as it did heretofore to Zopyrus, when he pronounc'd his opinion upon Socrates; or that Piety, as is seen in so many holy personages, hath reform'd the Will, evil habits, and Nature it self?

The Fifth said, As there is nothing more wonderful then to judge of a Man's manners at the first sight, so there is nothing more difficult. It is endeavour'd four wayes. First, By the structure of each part of the Body. So the great Head and square Fore-head, denote Prudence and good judgement; the small Head shews that there is little brain, and narrow room for the exercise of the internal senses; the sharp Head denotes impudence. The Second way, is, by the Temperament. So the ruddy coun∣tenance, yellow hair, and other signes of the Sanguine Humour, shew an indifferent Spirit, pleasant, and inclin'd to Love. A pale complexion, fat Body, clear voice, slow gate, which are the cha∣racters of Phlegme, denote cowardice and sloth. Soft and tender flesh is a token of subtlety of the Senses, and consequently of the

wit; hard flesh, of dulness. Whence Man, the wisest of all Animals, hath a more delicate flesh then any of them. The Third way, is, by comparing the external signes of every one with those which are observ'd in Men when they are in Passion. So because he that is in Choler hath sparkling Eyes, hoarse voice, and the jugular veins turgid; we conclude that he who hath all these signes naturally, is naturally inclin'd to that Passion. But as for the Fourth and last, which is, by comparing Man with other Animals, heed must be taken how we credit such a sign alone. For as a single letter doth not make a discourse, so an external similitude alone with an Animal doth not infer the resemblance of our Nature to that of that Animal. There must be a concur∣rence of many of these signes together. As if I see a Man with a neck moderately fleshy, a large breast, and the other parts in proportion, as the Lyon hath; harsh hair, as the Bear; a strong sight, as the Eagle; I shall conclude that this Man is strong and courageous.

The Sixth said, That the reason why Physiognomists choose irrational creatures, to signifie the inclinations and manners of Men rather then Men themselves, is, because Man is a variable Animal, and most commonly useth dissimulation in his actions; Whereas Animals, void of Reason, less conceal from us the in∣clinations of their Nature, by which they permit themselves to be guided. So we see the same person will sometimes do an act of Courage, sometime another of Cowardice; sometimes he will be merciful, at another time cruel. But other Animals are uni∣form in all their actions. The Lyon is alwayes generous, the Hare ever cowardly; the Tyger, cruel; the Fox, crafty; the Sheep, harmless. So that a certain judgement may be pass'd upon these, but not upon Men.

The Seventh said, That as the accidents superven'd to our Bo∣dies after our Birth afford no certain judgement, but onely the signes which we bring from our Mothers Womb; so the natural inclinations and habits may be well judg'd of by exact inspection into the constitution on which they depend; but not those which are acquisitious, whereof no certain judgement is to be had. Yet this inspection of the Temperament is very uncertain too, by reason it is extremely difficult to understand the constitution of every one; so that Galen confesses, that after fifty years study in Physick, he could not attain a perfect knowledge thereof.

The Eighth said, It is a groundless thing to make our manners depend upon the colour which the Excrementitious Humours produce in the skin; much less do they depend upon the shape of the Muscles, which alters when a Man grows fat or lean, and followes the conformation of the Bones; and yet less upon the Lineaments, which have nothing to do with our internal dispo∣sition; what ever Experiences Spigelius alledgeth, of having ob∣serv'd in his dissections, that all those who were executed for

Crimes prepens'd long before, had the two lines which are upon the uppermost part of the Nose, crossing one the other when they knit their brows.

II. Of Artificial Memory.

Upon the Second Point it was said, That the Art of Memory invented (as 'tis reported) by Simonides, is a company of Rules, by help of which the species of things dispos'd in the treasure of the Memory are reviv'd. And the action of this Faculty consisting in a certain temper of the Brain, which may be preserv'd and amended by the right use of external things; they deny the sensible effects of Physick, who question, whether the Memory may be perfected, and consequently, whether there may be an Art of it. Raymond Lullie hath compriz'd his in a Categorical or mystical Order; Rombertio, in his memorable Reductions; Gesualdo the Neapolitan, in certain Characters; all, in Places, Images, and Order. First for Places, as in passing near a place, it puts you in mind of what you have seen or done there; so taking a certain place so well known to you that it cannot escape you, as your lodging, or the four walls of your Chamber; it will faithfully return to you the things that you shall consigne to it. Secondly, for Images; as it is impossible but I must remember my friend when I see his picture; so when I look upon certain Images which shall signifie to me the things whereof I am to treat, (with which consequently they must have correspondence) I easily remember those things. These Images must either be without us, as Statues or Hangings of Tapistry are to a Preacher; or else within us, and so effectual and known that they alwayes come into our Minds, as the red and pimpled Face of a known person doth, to signifie Choler and Drunkenness; a pale face, for fear; and so of the other points of the discourse. Thirdly, for Order, it is by consent of all term'd the parent and guardian of Memory.

The Second said, That to question the benefit of the Art of Memory, which makes Rules for the same, is, to be an Enemy to Order. And because we cannot judge better of one contrary then by the other; the good thereof is best apprehended by considering the evils which arise from confusion. For as we know nothing but what we have in our Memory, whence the words of knowing and being mindful are very fitly taken by the vulgar for the same thing: So as Man may have abundance of motions, yet if he know not how to use them in a ••itting occasion, or if his knowledge be confus'd, he deserves rather the name of a shufler then of a knowing man; and this for want of the Order which the Art of Memory teacheth us. For all things have some con∣nexion among themselves, either Natural or Artificial. The former is found in Tree of Substance and Accidents. Plants have their rank, Animals theirs; and amongst Men, Time, Place, Dignity, and some circumstances supply the like to them. As Cyrus was before Alexander, he before Caesar; and again, he

before Cicero in dignity, and Cicero before Roscius. But the Memory is chiefly troubled to retain the artificial connexion of things and words, assign'd to them by our own disposal, especially when the same is remote from the natural. 'Tis here that the wonders of this Art are particularly discover'd; by help whereof Seneca, in his Declamations, glories that he learnt the names of two thousand persons, and repeated them in the same order wherein they were pronounc'd to him. Cardan confesses that he ow'd all he knew to this Art. And Cardinal Perron knew how to use it so well before Henry III. that he caus'd himself to be taken for the Author of an Heroick Poem, which he repeated, word for word, after hearing it once read.

The Third said, That seeing Memory hath oftentimes fail'd great personages at need, as Demosthenes before Philip, Budaeus before Charles V. and many others; it is as profitable to strengthen it, as the Rules are difficult which conduce thereunto. Some phancy to themselves five chambers, in each corner whereof, they place a Man of their acquaintance, and in their Minds apply to his Head the first word or thing which they would remem∣ber; upon his right arm, the second; the third, upon his left arm; the fourth, upon the right foot; and the fifth, upon the left; (the number five seeming to them the most easie for Multi∣plication) If the thing be not corporeal, they conceive it under some species representing the sound of the word; or else of two they make one, or divide it; proceeding thus from corner to corner, and from chamber to chamber, and adding five more to the former, if need require. Others compose a word of the first letters or syllables of the names which they would repeat; as if I would speak first of Augustus, then of the Emperours Ro∣dolphus, Matthias, Valentinian, and lastly, of Solon; I take the word Armus, in which I find their first letters, which guide me to the rest. The same they do at the beginning of periods, which some others make to begin where the preceding end.

The Fourth said, Memory is an Internal Sense, which (as the other two, Phancy and Common Sense) depends onely upon Na∣ture. And as the fabulous Salmoneus was struck with Lightning for having imitated Lightning; so they who go about to alter by their artifice this Divine Workmanship, find themselves re∣warded with the utter loss of their natural Memory. Moreover, the softness of the Brain is the cause of a good Memory, and the hardness thereof of its weakness; whence Children have better Memories then grown persons. Now we cannot change the consist∣ence of the Brain, and they who have us'd Balm-water and other remedies for that purpose, have found that they more weakned their Judgements then strengthened their Memories. From whence ariseth another reason to shew that those two Faculties being for the most part equally balanc'd, it is no easier for him that hath a bad Memory to make it better, then to procure a good Judgement in him which wants it.

The Fifth saith, He conceiv'd it no less difficult to remember the Places, Images, and odd precepts of this Art, and apply them to the subject, then to learn by heart at first the things themselves, or their words; which also when learnt by this Art are soon lost, as being found upon chimeraes, of which the Mind cannot alwayes so thorowly clear it self but there will be left some Idea thereof; more apt to trouble the Memory then to as∣sist it alwayes. However, I had rather learn a little, labouronsly, with the profit and impression ordinarily accompanying my pains, then feed upon those vain pictures. Wherefore I am prone to think, that either there is no Art of Memory, or else that it is unprofitable or mischievous, and as such to be rejected by all the world.

The Sixth said, Since where ever there is defect, there is need of some Art to correct the same, and remove from the Faculties the obstacles which they meet with in the exercise of their Offices; why should Memory alone be destitute of this succour? Considering it hath wayes so various, that not onely words which signifie something, but those which signifie nothing are of use to the Memory. Therefore Aristotle saith, He who would remember must make barbarismes. And to six a name or word in the Mind, a Man will utter many which come near it. But as this Art is not to be despis'd, so neither is it alwayes to be made use of, much less in things which have some order of themselves; as, Anatomy, Geography, Chronology, and History; or in which a good natural Memory can contrive any. They who have this Faculty vigorous from their birth, or made it such by exercise, wrong themselves in employing the precepts of this Art for that purpose; as a Man of five and twenty years old should do if he made use of spectacles; having no need thereof. But it is onely fit for those who having a weak Memory would remember many barbarous names or some coats and numbers, the variety whereof many times breeds confusion; for the re∣collecting of which, this Art teaches to remember certain shapes, figures, or species, sometimes the most uncouth that can be ex∣cogitated, to the end the Phancy may be more effectually moved by the same.

CONFERENCE XXIV.

I. Which of the Five Senses is the most noble. II. Of Laughter.

I. Which of the five Senses is the most Noble.

AS he who hath the present sense of any Disease, accounts that the greatest; so they who exercise some one of their Senses more then the rest, who get profit by it, or are delighted in it, willingly award the preceedence to the same. Take the judge∣ment

of a Perfumer, he values nothing but Odors and the smell, which judgeth thereof. He will tell you, that if we had the perfect knowledge of Aromatical Compositions, they would ravish all our Senses; that Perfume must needs have something Divine in it, because God so lov'd it, that he particularly reserv'd it to himself, and forbad all others to use a certain Composition, under pain of death. The same is also argu'd from the offence we take at the evil scent of any stinking thing, that so the very name of it passing onely through our ears displeases us in such sort, as to disparage the truth of the Proverb, that Words do not stink; as, on the contrary, the name alone of the Rose, Violet and Jasmin, seemes to recreate the smelling by the Ear. Poets and Lovers will be for the Eyes and the Touch. They who under∣stand Opticks will hold that 'tis the seeing which affordeth the greatest wonders; Whence Comical Representations move so powerfully, and Sight hath more influence upon us then Hear∣say. If you will take the judgement of Musitians, the Hearing shall carry the Bell from the other senses; and this Position is back'd with the experience of Melody, Perswasion, and the Art of Oratory; which caus'd Antiquity to feign two sorts of Her∣cules, the one who subdu'd monsters with the blows of his club, and the other who captivated his Auditors with chains of Gold, reaching from his Tongue to their Ears. Philoxenus, who wish'd a Crane's neck, and they who live onely to drink and eat, (whereas we drink and eat to live) will give the preheminence to the Taste. Wherefore, in my Opinion, this Question is hard to be decided, because it requires impartial Judges, whose num∣ber is very small.

The Second said, That for the right judging of the Cause, all parties ought to be heard. As for the Sight, the fabrick of its Organ, so artificially compos'd of Humours and Tunicles, and guarded with Eye-lids and Brows, as so many ramparts for its preservation, sufficiently plead its excellence. But that, of the six Couple of Nerves, (for so many onely there are) in the Brain, the first and the second are peculiarly destinated to the Eyes; this shews how highly Nature tenders them above all other parts. Moreover, Vision is perform'd in an Instant, and makes present to us those things which are as remote from us, as Heaven is from Earth, and this by spiritual qualities; (for the Actions of Bodies are not expedited but in Time) this is an other argu∣ment of its Excellence. Further, since nothing is more goodly then Light, it seemes to follow that nothing is more excellent then the Sight, whose Object it is. Whence some Philosophers conceiv'd the Soul to have chosen the Eyes for its Mansion. Next then for Hearing; this Sense seemes to feed the Soul, or rather to give it birth. For if the Soul be consider'd naturally, its food and life is to understand, reason, and discourse; to which pur∣poses the Hearing alone is serviceable, being for this cause term'd the Sense of Discipline. If the Soul be consider'd as it enjoyes a

life more noble then the natural, namely, that of Grace; the Sense of Hearing seemes the Author of this Life. For, the Just lives by Faith, saith the Holy Scripture. Now this Faith comes from Hearing, as the Apostle testifies, and not from See∣ing; For it is the evidence of things not seen; and where we see, there is no longer Faith. As for the Smelling; indeed good Odors recreate the Brain, repair the Animal Spirits, purifie and fit them to assist the Soul when it exerciseth its most noble ope∣rations; but the weak Title of this Sense seemes to need a better Advocate then all the rest. The Senses of Tasting and Touching remain, but both in the same degree, because one proceeds from the other; Gustation being a sort of Contact. In considering of these two Senses, me-thinks, I hear them complain of the in∣gratitude of Men for placing them in the lowest form, notwith∣standing their great service in the birth of Mankind, by Genera∣tion, which is a kind of Touching, and in the subsequent pre∣servation thereof incessantly by the Sense of Tasting. And yet since all the commendation of an Instrument is to be measur'd by its end and benefit, (as the praise of a Knife is to cut well) therefore of the Senses, which are the Instruments of the Body and the Soul, the most beneficial (as the Touch and Taste are) must be the most noble: For they are absolutely necessary to our Being, but the other three onely to our Well-being, and that we may live more pleasantly. Moreover, Nature hath so highly esteemed the Sense of Touching and its actions, that she hath found none of them bad or useless, as there is in the other Senses. Pain it self, which seemes the chief Enemy of it, is so necessary, that without the same, Animals (as Aristotle testifies) would perish like Plants; for it is like a Sentinel, taking heed that no mis∣chief befall them.

The Third stood up for the Hearing. Sounds (said he) are of that efficacy and power, that amongst the Objects of the Senses, they alone make the Soul take as many different postures as themselves are various. The sound of the Trumpet, or a warlike Song, animates and puts us into fury; change the Tune, and you make the weapons fall out of the hands of the most outragi∣ous. Devotion is enkindled by it, Mirth increas'd; briefly, nothing is impossible to it. Its action is so noble, that by it we receive the notices of all things; in which regard the Ear is par∣ticularly dedicated to the Memory: Hence also speech is more efficacious, and makes greater impression upon the Mind, then converse onely with dumb Masters, or the contemplation of things by help of the Sight. And the structure of its Organ, both internal and external, contriv'd with so many Labyrinths, a Drumb, a Stirrup, an Anvil, a Hammer, Membranes, Arteries, and Nerves, and so many other parts fortifi'd with strong battle∣ments of Bones, is a sufficient evidence of its nobleness.

The Fourth fell into commendation of the Eyes, which are the windows at which the Soul most manifestly shews her self,

and is made most to admire her Creator; but he added, that many times they serve for an in-let, at which the Devil steals the Soul; which a great person complains that he lost by his Eyes. I should therefore attribute (said he) the preeminence to the Touch, as more exquisite in Man then in any Animal, and con∣sequently most noble, because found in the most noble substance. For 'tis probable Nature gave Man, by way of preeminence, the most noble Faculties not onely in the Soul, but also in the Body. Now other Animals excell us in the other Senses; the Dog, in Smelling; the Ape, in Tasting; the Hart, in Hearing; and the Eagle, in Seeing.

The Fifth argu'd, in favour of Hearing, alledging that a Man may attain Knowledge without Sight; and that upon observation, Blind people have better Memories and Judgements then others, because their Souls being less taken up with external actions, become more vigorous in internal operations, for that their Spirits are less dissipated. Upon which consideration, a certain Philosopher thought fit to pull out his own Eyes, that so he might be more free for contemplation, and the study of Wisedom. But without the Hearing, it is impossible to have the least degree of Knowledge in the world, not even so much as that of talking familiarly to little Children. For one deaf by Nature is likewise dumb, and by consequence altogether useless to humane society; yea, if we take Aristotle's word for it, he is less then Man. For Man (saith he) deserves not that name but inasmuch as he is sociable; and such he is not, if he be unable to express his con∣ceptions, which cannot be done without speech. Of which speech the Hearing being the cause, the same is also the cause that he is capable of the denomination of Man. And being thereby differenced from Brutes, it follows that it is the most noble piece of his accoutrements.

The Sixth said, If Nobility be taken for Antiquity, the Touch will be the noblest of the Senses; because it appears the first and the last in an Animal. Moreover, it is design'd for the noblest End, to wit, Propagation, by which the individual makes it self eternal; and which is more, it comprehends under it the Taste, the Hearing and the Smelling: For we cannot Taste, Hear, or Smell, unless the species actually touch the Tongue, the Drum of the Ear, and the Mammillary Processes. Add hereunto, that Utility being the Note of Excellency, as is seen in State Policy, and the Art Military, the Touch must be the most excellent; since it serves for Eyes not onely to the Blind who guide themselves by groping, but also to some Animals, as Snails, Moles, and also all Insects, who make use of their hornes and feet as dextrously as others of their Eyes.

II. Of Laughter.

Upon the Second Point it was said, We here wanted some Priests of that God of Laughter, to whom, as Apulieus (in his Golden Ass) relates, the Inhabitants of the City of Hypate cele∣brated

yearly a Feast, at which himself was made a Victim. There are few but have read what Laughter he caus'd, when defend∣ing himself against the charge of Murther he found that the three Men whom he thought he had slain were three leathern bottles; and for his reward he receiv'd this promise, That all should succeed to his advantage. Indeed Fortune seems to favour Laughers; whereas here accusers and male-contents readily find new causes of dissatisfaction and complaint. Whence possibly arose the Proverb, which saith, That when things go well with a Man, He hath the Laughers on his side. This Goddess For∣tune seems to be of the Humour of Women, (in whose shape she is pourtray'd) who rather love merry persons then severe. Yea, generally, all prefer a jolly Humour, and a smilling Face, before the solemness and wrinkled brow of the Melancholy; which you may daily observe from Children, who avoid the lat∣ter, and readily run to the former, as it were by instinct of Nature. The Latin Distick saith, That the Spleen causeth Laughter;* 1.6 possibly because it serves for the receptacle of Melancholy which hinders it; just as white Wine, having more lee or sediment at the bottome then Claret, retaineth less thereof in its substance, and is consequently more diuretical.

The second said, That the first rise of laughter is in the Phancy, which figuring to it selfsome species not well according together, represents a disproportion to the Intellect, not wholly disagree∣able, for then it would displease, but absurd, new, and unor∣dinary. Then the Judgement coming to conjoyn those dispro∣portionate species, makes a compound thereof; which not agree∣ing with what was expected from them, the Judgement cannot wholly approve of the same by reason of the disproportion, nor yet wholly reject it, by reason of something which pleases it within. From this contest ariseth a sally of the Faculty, which during this contrariety, causeth contraction of the Nerves. Which if it be but small, it produceth onely smiling; but if it be violent, then by the confluence of the Spirits it causeth loud laughter. Now that Laughter is seated in the Imagination ap∣pears hence, that if we have heard or seen some ridiculous thing, we many times laugh at it, though the Object be not present. 'Tis also Disproportion that makes us laugh, for we do not so when we behold a great Beauty; but we do so when we look upon some odd ill-contriv'd countenance, or when we find little sutableness between the Objects which are represented to us; as an Old-man making Love, a huge Hat upon a small Head, one intending to make a graceful Reverence, or cut a fine caper and falling all along; in brief, every thing that is said or done incon∣gruously besides our expectation; especially if no other more violent Passion interpose, as Fear, Respect, and Pity, which suppress Laughter. We laugh at a Man that falls down, but should he break his neck with the fall, our Laughter would give place to Compassion. In fine, it appears that there is made a re∣traction

of the Nerves during Laughter; for we see a Convul∣sion causeth the same motion of the Muscles of the Face that Laughter doth; whence cometh that malady which is called Risus Sardonicus, in which, by the retraction of the Nerves to∣wards their Original, the Patient seemes to laugh as he dyes.

The Third said, He knew not whether of the two had most reason, Democritus the Laugher, or Heraclitus the Weeper. For though the Faculty of Laughing be peculiar to Man, and inse∣parable from Reason, yet immoderate Laughter is as unaccepta∣ble as continual Tears. And whereas we read in the Holy Scripture that our Lord sometimes wept, but not that he ever laught; this may be resolv'd, That nothing was new to him: The same being recorded of Heathens, so stay'd and reserv'd that they were never seen to laugh; as Crassus, Cato the Censor, Phocion, and some others. There is more difficulty in stating the Cause of Laughter. Aristotle attributes it to the Diaphragme which is dilated by heat. But seeing we laugh less in a Fever when the Diaphragme is most heated, it is certain, either that every heat of the Diaphragme doth not produce this effect, or some other cause must be joyned with it. Which I conceive to be an impression made in our Senses, and by them in our Phancy, of some agreeable, unusual, and un-foreseen Object, when the same slips into it unawares. Which Object, exciting Joy in us by the Dilatation of the Spirits, which is made first in the Arteries of the Brain, and thereby insinuated into these of the Heart which opens to that Joy; those dilated Spirits swell the Blood in the Veins which accompanies them; so that not being containable in their own place, the Veins and Arteries swell till they make a reflux in the Brain, Diaphragme, Lungs, Face, and all the parts of the Body, where they cause the concussion and agitation ob∣serv'd in excessive Laughter, and sometimes Tears, by the com∣pression of the Brain; whilst it is not possible for any to check the eruption, what ever respect be presented to them; yea, sometimes the Spirits are so rarifi'd that they evaporate, whence follows sudden death; as it befell Chrysippus of old, who seeing an Ass eat figgs at the end of his table, fell into so vehement Laughter that he dy'd immediately.

The Fourth said, Laughter is a motion of the Body which follows that of the Soul. Its Object is a sudden Joy surprizing us, as a pleasant word after a serious discourse. The scorn we make of any one causeth Laughter likewise; because Contempt is a kind of Anger made up of Pleasure and Grief. When the Pleasure happens to be greater then the Grief, (as it happens when our Enemy is so weak that we can be reveng'd on him when we list) this contentment causeth us to laugh. And hence it is that Sleighting is more offensive then Hatred alone. Joubertus thinks, Laughter is excited when Pleasure expands the Heart, which by that dilatation gives motion to the Diaphragme, and this consequently draws the Muscles of the Lipps. Aristotle saith,

that by tickling a motion is caused in the Spirits, which go and come to the place where the Man feels the Pleasure; which Spirits passing and repassing light upon the Nerves, who being too sensible and sollicited by the continual motion and agitation thereof, endeavour to drive the same away; and to that pur∣pose contract themselves, and draw unto themselves the parts into which they are inserted. Hence, in a great Laughter, a Man is forc'd to compress himself, and the sides ake with much laugh∣ing, by reason of the tension of the Muscles and Nerves, which are most agitated in that place. Wherefore, in my judgement, Laughter is caus'd in this sort. The sudden Pleasure or Titilla∣tion excites a motion of the Spirits, which being very subtile are easily carry'd up to the Head; there their agitation and mo∣tion importunes the Nerves and the Brain, so that in the midst of this Pleasure there is caus'd a kind of Convulsive Motion. And for that this agitation is chiefly inward, therefore the in∣ternal parts first feel the effects of that gentle Convulsion: the Diaphragme being more pliant, and receiving more Nerves of the sixth Conjugation, is agitated the most vehemently. In profuse Laughter the Nerves of the whole Body sympathize with this disposition of the Brain, their Common Original; which being importun'd by those Spirits, (who, though but natural, are yet able to incommode the same by their too great agitation) it contracts it self to be discharged of them, attracting the Nerves to it self as much as it can; whence proceeds this kind of Con∣vulsion.

The Fifth said, That the cause of Laughter is two-fold, namely, its Object which is of great latitude, as good news, un∣expected joy, which it is impossible to receive without laughing; and its Subject, which is indeed the Diaphragme; for they who are wounded in that part seem to dye laughing, as Hippocrates, in the seventh of his Epidemicks, observes to have befallen one Plychon for the same cause: And this is no otherwise then as a certain kind of Ranunculus, (an Herb, we call Crowfoot) being eaten causeth loss of the Spirits, and by the contraction of the Lips represents the Convulsion which is made during Laughter.

CONFERENCE XXV.

I. Of the Diversity of Countenances. II. Whether Man or Woman be the more noble.

I. Of the Di∣versity of Countenances▪

IDentity is so disagreeable, that in all the objects of the Senses it displeases us. Our Taste is glutted with alwayes eating the same Bread. The most excellent Odour, at length, causeth the Head-ake. To look too wistly upon the same object, or to be too long together beheld by the same Eye fixed upon us, is

troublesome. The Ear is tyr'd with twice hearing the same Tune, and being continually struck upon by one and the same discourse, how excellent soever it be. The Touch, the grossest of all the Senses, is weary of one and the same temper of Air; whence is drawn a certain consequence, That the people under the Equinoctial, or other Climate alwayes like to it self, are sooner weary of living, then others who have not leasure to be tyr'd with one season because another soon succeeds it. On the contrary, we see variety of Food raiseth the languishing Appe∣tite; the diversity of Odors which succeed one another, delight the Smelling. Nothing is more acceptable to the Sight then a Meadow checker'd with several colours, or a garden variegated with Tulips and other Flowers, of all sorts and hues which the Spring discloses. Harmony proceeds from the variety of Notes; and the Orator who would move his Auditors must not speak too long upon the same thing in the same words; he must alter his gesture and voice, and the pauses which distinguish his action are very serviceable to that purpose. But as there is nothing more swift then the Sight, so no Sense is sooner weary with the sem∣blance of its objects. The reason whereof is this, being a most active sense, its operation doth not make it self perceiv'd by the Eye, but by the changing of the object. So that when it be∣holds alwayes the same thing, it seemes to it self as if it beheld nothing. Look upon the Earth all cover'd with Snow, or a Chamber wholly hung with Black, or some other single colour, the Sight is offended therewith: If Green offends us less, it is because it is compounded of Yellow and Blew, and the best blended of all the Colours, and as such reunites the visual rayes between its two extremes; yet it affordeth nothing near the de∣lightfulness that ariseth from the variety of Tapistry. I conceive therefore that the chief end of the diversity of Countenances, is Distinction, and lest the same thing should betide Women that did Alcmena, in Plautus, who suffer'd Jupiter to quarter with her, because she took him for her Husband Amphitryo. But the sub∣ordinate end is the Contentment which Man finds in this variety. As for other causes, the Efficient indeed doth something; for Children commonly resemble their Fathers and Mothers: But the Material contributes very much hereunto; so that they who (for example) are begotten of a Masculine and Feminine Geniture, wherein the sanguine temper is equally prevalent, resemble one another, and have a ruddy and well shap'd Countenance. But because 'tis next to impossible, that the said temper should be equally found in two different subjects, thence ariseth the variety of Complexions and Lineaments.

The Second said, There is as great variety in all natural things as in Faces, though it be not so remarkable to us. For we see Birds and Beasts distinguish one another very well. Now the Final Cause of this Diversity seemes to me to be the ornament of the World,* 1.7 which otherwise would have nothing less then the

importance of its name. Musick and Painting receive graces from things which in reality are nothing, namely, Pauses, which are onely privations of Notes; and shadows, which are defects of light. This diversity of Visages, which ariseth from that of the persons and their inclinations, is as well contributary to the splendour and beauty of a state as of nature. For if all things were alike, there would be a confus'd identity and general disorder, not much different from the ancient Chaos. Nothing would be acted in Nature; for action is not between things like, but be∣tween things contrary. Nor would there be Beauty in the Countenance, if there were not diversity in the parts; but all the Face were Eye or Nose. For Beauty ariseth from Proportion, and this from the correspondence of many different parts. Very little would there be amongst Men, if all were alike; there be∣ing no Beauty when there is no deformity whereunto it may be compar'd; and who so takes away Beauty takes away Love, of which it is the foundation. This divine link of humane so∣ciety would be destroy'd; for Love is a desire to obtain what we want, and another possesseth; and therefore it cannot exist but between persons unlike. Nor could a State consist longer; be∣cause all Men being externally alike, would be so internally too; all would be of the same profession, and no longer seek to sup∣ply one anothers mutual necessities. Now this diversity of per∣sons proceeds from the divers mixture of the four Humours; which being never found twice temper'd in the same sort, (each one having his peculiar constitution, which the Physitians call Idiosyncrasie) they never produce the same person twice, nor consequently one and the same surface, or external shape, alike. If the Matter design'd to constitute and nourish the bones be in too great quantity, the Man is born robust, large, and bony; if it be defective, he becomes a dwarf and a weakling. Again, this Matter, according as it carried to every bone in particular, gives a differing conformation to the same, which is also derived to the Muscles spread over those bones from which they borrow the external figure which they communicate to the skin.

The Third said, He found two Causes of the Diversity of Countenances: One in Heaven; The other in the Heads of Wo∣men, namely, in their Imaginations. Heaven is never found twice in the same posture, by reason of the manifold Motions and Conjunctions of the Planets, and yet 'tis the Sun and Man that generate a Man; and what is said of the Sun, ought likewise to be understood of the other Coelestial Bodies. It is necessary then that this variety in the Cause produce also variety in the Effect. Hence it is, that Twins have so great resemblance to∣gether, as having been conceiv'd and born under the same Con∣stellation. As for the Imagination, 'tis certain, that of the Mother which intervenes at the time of Conception, more powerfully determines the shape and colour of the Foetus then any other Cause; as appears by the marks which Infants bring with them

from their Mothers Womb; who well remember that such things were in their Phancy, and that they had a vehement ap∣prehension of the same. So that as many different Imaginations as Women have when they conceive, make so many Countenan∣ces and other parts of the Body different.

II. Whether is the more noble, Man or Woman.

Upon the Second Point it was said, That in times of old there was found at Rome a Widower that had buried two and twenty Wives, and at the same time a Widow that survived her two and twentieth Husband; these two the people of Rome constrain'd to marry together, after which, both Men and Women awaited which of the two would dye first; at length the Woman dy'd first, and all the Men, even to the little Boyes, went to her in∣terment, every one with a branch of Lawrel in his Hand, as ha∣ving obtaind the victory over that Sex. This Question of the no∣bleness and dignity of the one above the other, is of greater conse∣quence then that other, in which not onely Women very fre∣quently get the better, there being more old women then old men, through the sundry dangers whereunto men are expos'd, and from which women are exempted; but also Stags and Ra∣vens, which live hundreds of years, much surpass either of them. But one of the greatest difficulties arising in the discussion of this Controversie, is, that there is no Judge found but is interessed in the Cause: Do not think that the determination of this Point is of little importance. For we should have none of those dis∣mal feuds both in high and mean families, did not women go about to command over men instead of obeying them. Now whether the business be fairly arbitrated, or whether it be yielded, out of complacency to that Sex, which loves to be com∣manded, and out of pity its frugality and weakness; upon ex∣amination of the reasons of either side, I find it safer to suspend my judgement, that I may neither betray my own party, nor incense the other; which, they say, is not so easily reconciled as it is offended.

The Second said, That the courtship and suing which Men use to Women, is a tacite but sufficient argument of the esteem wherein they hold them; for we do not seek after a thing which we under-value. But the praecellence of Women above Men is principally argu'd from the Place, the Matter, and the Order of their Creation. For Man had not the advantage to be created in the Terrestrial Paradise, as Woman had, who also was pro∣duc'd out of a more noble matter then he; for he was made out of the Earth, and she out of one of the Man's ribbs. And as for the Order of the Creation, God, in the production of Mixt Bodies, begun with the meanest things, and ended with the noblest. He first made the Earth and the Sea, then Plants, Fishes, and the other Brutes. After which, he created Man, as the Master of all things; and lastly, Woman, as the Master-piece of Nature, and the Model of all Perfections, Mistress of Man, stronger

then he, as the Scripture saith; and consequently Mistress of all the Creatures. Moreover, there is no sort of Goods but are found in a higher degree in Woman then in Man. For as for the Goods of the Body, the chief whereof is Beauty, Men have therein utterly lost the cause; which they will be as little able to carry in reference to the Goods of the Mind: For the same are found more vigorous, and attain sooner to maturity in Women, who, upon that account, are by the Laws adjudg'd Puberes at twelve years of age, and Boyes not till fourteen. They com∣monly perform more actions of Virtue then Men; and indeed they have more need thereof, to with-stand the assaults conti∣nually made upon their Chastity, which is not too often found in the other Sex. They are acknowledg'd by all, to be more merciful, faithful, and charitable then Men; so Devout, that the Church (which cannot err) termes them by no other name; and so patient, that God hath judg'd them alone worthy to carry their Children nine moneths in their bellies; no doubt, because Men had not Virtue and Resolution enough for that office. The Poets never feign'd but one Jupiter, that was able to bear an Infant in his Body, though it were but for a few moneths. In fine, there is no Science or Art in which Women have not ex∣cell'd; witness the two Virgins, Desroches, and de Gournai, the Vicountess of Auchi, and Juliana Morel, a Sister Jacobine of Avignon, who understands fourteen Languages; and, at Lyons, maintain'd Theses in Philosophy at the age of thirteen years; so also of old, Diotima and Aspacia were so excellent in Philosophy, that Socrates was not asham'd to go to their publick Lectures; in Astrology, Hipatia of Alexandria, the Wife of Isidore the Philosopher; in Oratory, Tullia, the Daughter, and doubly heiress of Cicero; and Cornelia, who taught Eloquence to the Gracchi her Sons; in Poetry, Sappho, the inventress of Saphick Verses; and the three Corynnae, of whom the first overcame Pindar, the Prince of Lyrick Poets, five times; and in Painture, Irene and Calypso, in the dayes of Varro. If there have been Prophets, there have also been Prophetesses and Sybils; yea, they were Virgins, of old, that render'd the Oracles at Delphos. In brief, if there have been war-like Men, there have been Amazons too, who have shew'd that Valour is not solely Mascu∣line. And, in our dayes, there have been found Maidens that have fought very courageously, whose Sex was not known till they were stript after they had been slain in battle. But these Feminine Virtues are not so much celebrated as those of Men, by reason of the Envy which they bear to the Sex, having sub∣jected the same to such a pass, that they are enforc'd to support all our defects. Though indeed, Women may say to Men as the Lyon did to a Man, who shew'd him the picture of a Man killing a Lyon; If Lyons (said he) were addicted to painting, you would see more Men kill'd by Lyons, then Lyons by Men. If Women had had the making of Laws and Histories, you would see more Virtues exercis'd by Women then by Men.

The Third said, That although none but Men are at the ven∣tilating of this Controversie, yet Women ought not to alledge that it is easie to commend the Athenians in the City of Athens; since God himself hath pass'd a Decree upon them in these words, The Woman shall be subject to the Man. And 'tis to no purpose to say, that it was otherwise before the first sin▪ and that subjection was impos'd upon the Woman for a punishment; seeing the punishment of the Serpent, That he should creep upon the Earth, doth not presuppose that he had feet before he caus'd Man to sin by the intervention of his Wife; but indeed, God converted that into a penalty which before was natural unto him. The same ought to be said concerning the Woman, who was no less subject to the Man before then after his sin. Moreover, after God had taken the Woman out of Adam's side, (whence, they say, it comes that their heads are so hard) he did not say that she was good, as he had pronounc'd all the rest of his Creatures. And to get Adam to marry her, there was no other expedient found but to cast him into a sleep; no doubt, because, had he been awake, he would have been very much puzzl'd to resolve upon it. So that they who considering, on one side, the usefulness of that Sex for the preservation of the species of Men, and on the other, the mischiefs whereof it is the cause, have not ill determin'd when they term'd Woman a Necessary Evil; to which Men are addicted, by natural instinct, for the ge∣neral good, and to the prejudice of the particular; just as Water ascends upwards, contrary to its own nature, for the eschewing of Vacuity. Woman is an imperfect Animall, whom Plato doubted whether he should not rank amongst the irrational, and whom Aristotle termes a Monster; they who treat her most gently, stile her a simple Error of Nature; which through the deficiency of natural heat, could not attain to the making of a Male. Women big with Female Children, are more discolour'd, have their taste deprav'd, and usually lift up their left leg first, as it were for an evidence of that sinister conception. In the Old Testament they who were deliver'd of a Female were unclean for sixty dayes; but if of a Male, but thirty. The Male is fully form'd in thirty dayes, but the Female onely in forty two. The Males have life at the seventh moneth, but Females not till the ninth; as if Nature hid her fault as long as she could. The Females have less vigour in all their actions, because less heat; which appears in that they are never ambi∣dextrous, as Men oftentimes are. Now, if in some species of Animals, the Females have the advantage above Males, as Ty∣gresses, Lyonesses, and She-wolves, it is in fierceness; and therein we also yield to Women. But what more competent Judge amongst Men can they find, then he who try'd so many, Solomon, who inquires, Who can find a Wise Woman? And who, after he had compar'd them to the bottomeless pit, concludes that all wickedness is supportable, provided it be not the wick∣edness

of a Woman; yea, that the wickedness of a Man is bet∣ter then the goodness of a Woman.* 1.8

The Fourth said, Every thing is esteemed according to its Author, Structure, and Composition, the means it makes use of, the manner how it employes the same, and its end. Now Man and Woman having the same Author, namely, God; and being compos'd almost of the same parts, it remains to inquire what means both the one and the other makes use of for attaining their end, which is Happiness. It is certain that the being either Man or Woman doth not make either of them good or bad, handsome or deform'd, noble or infamous, happy or unhappy. There are found of both sorts in either Sex. As, to begin in Pa∣radise, the eleven thousand Virgins alone shew that the Femi∣nine Sex hath as good a share therein as Men. In Thrones, Semiramis, Thomiris, many Queens and Emperesses have ma∣nifested, that Women as well know how to command as Men. Judith cutting off the Head of Holofernes; and the Maid of Orleans, in the dayes of our Fore-fathers; have shewn that Men alone were not courageous, and fit for Martial Atchievements. In brief, there is no kind of performances, in which examples are not to be found both of Men and Women, that have acquitted themselves happily therein. In Oeconomy, or the management of a Family, if some Men are the Masters, there are found Women too that have the supremacy, and that in such sort, that the Men dare not complain. Wherefore they who seek the cause of the nobleness or abjectness of Man and Woman in the Sex, seek a cause where it is not. 'Tis not the being a Man or a Woman that makes noble or ignoble; 'tis the being an excellent Man, or an excellent Woman. For as they are mistaken who impute some Vice or Virtue to a whole Province, because to be vicious or virtuous are personal things; the same ought to be said con∣cerning Man or Woman, who are Citizens of the whole world; either of whom taken in general hath nothing in themselves but what is very decorous, Good and perfect, and consequently very noble; as proceeding from an Author who communicated to them what perfection and nobleness was respectively requisite. If there be any defect, it proceeds from the individual person, and ought no more to be attributed to the Sex then to the Species.

CONFERENCE XXVI.

I. Whether it be lawful for one to commend himself. II. Of Beauty.

I. Whether it be lawful for a Man to commend himself.

IF things could speak, or if Men spoke alwayes of them as is fitting, the Question would be needless; but for that neither the one nor the other are to be expected, it is reasonably de∣manded, whether ever it be lawful to supply this default our selves. Three sorts of persons there are, each of a different opinion touching this Subject. The first prize and respect them∣selves so highly, that as one of the great Wits of these times said to a certain Author, who would have had more praise had he given himself less; They catch cold with too much speaking to themselves bare-headed. The Second, having heard that Glory is a shadow that follows those that flie it, affect blame with so palpable design, that it is plainly seen that they fall down onely to be lifted up; like those brides who would not hide them∣selves, if they knew that they should not certainly be found out. The Third observing how odious self-praise is to all the world, never attribute any to themselves, and cannot so much as endure to hear themselves commended, accounting it no other then flattery. The first maintain, that they who say that a Man must not praise himself, establish a Maxime, to which none obey. Do not great Captains, say they, succesfully animate their Souldiers by their own commendations? Doth not the expert Physitian preserve his own good reputation together with the health of his Patient? Do not they who make Pane∣gyricks for others, find their own in the same? Doth not the Ex∣cellent Preacher preach his own Doctrine and Eloquence toge∣ther with the Gospel? Doth not the acute Advocate argue as well for his own reputation, as for the carrying of his Clients Cause? Then for Arts and Trades, we see he is accounted the best Trades-man that ha's the nimblest Tongue in commending his own wares. Moreover, he that asks an Almes by a sign, asks it no less then if he spoke; and consequently as many wayes as there are to signifie any thing, the same are as so many words; and although the one are vocal, and the other mute, yet they equally signifie: Whence it follows that a Man is as little to blame in speaking well as in doing well. He that hangs a bush at his door doth no less say, I have Wine to sell, then if he pro∣claim'd it. A fair Woman who exposes her self to the view of every one, and a Painter who hangs forth his pieces to sell to passengers, prize and commend themselves more then if they spoke; and yet neither is censur'd for so doing. In brief, as we may blame our selves without speaking, by doing some evil action; so Men, in effect, commend themselves by performing

virtuous actions. The Second, who contemn themselves in∣cessantly, that they may be the more esteem'd by others, find nothing that more removes the mask of their Hypocrisie, then the assent of others to what they say; and indeed they are no less unacceptable and tedious then the former. But the last please much more; justifying their Principle by the enumerati∣on of all Professions, in which all that excell abhor this vanity, which is odious to all the world. War requires great deeds and few words. Humility, the prime Virtue in Divinity, can∣not consist with boasting. A good Physitian cannot hear the re∣lation of his great cures without blushing; and 'tis the property of a Mountebank to publish his own Atchievements in that kind. Plutarch, in an express Treatise, renders the reasons hereof. 1. Because a Man must be impudent that can commend himself, instead of being asham'd to hear his own praises. 2. Because it is injustice for a Man to give that to himself, which ought to be expected from others. And, 3. Because self-praise exercises a kind of Tyranny over the hearer, and is without effect, not ob∣liging him to belief.

The Second said, Two things displease us in the praise that any one gives himself. First, the seeing a Man prefer'd before, or at least equaliz'd to, our selves, whom we alwayes account most worthy of praise. And Secondly, the seeing a Man make himself judge in his own cause. And hence arose a common Proverb, Praise hath an ill savour in a Mans own mouth. And when the Comoedian would decypher the two most ridiculous personages of his Scene, Chremes and Thraso, he makes them weary the hearers with repetitions of their own commendation; which ought to have no other end but the Reward of him to whom it is given, or the exciting of others to Virtue by his ex∣ample. Now it is depriv'd of both these effects, when it pro∣ceeds from our selves. For that which comes from our selves cannot be call'd Reward, and consequently others can draw no example from it which may excite them to Virtue. If Poets praise themselves, they are excus'd by the Poetical Licence which gives them permission, as well as Painters, to feign and attempt what ever they please; and yet the Prince of Poets, Virgil, never commended himself. It was not by the praise which he gave himself that Cicero acquir'd the title of Father of Eloquence; on the contrary, his Consulship, so often depre∣dicated in his writings, is with some reason term'd the Spot or Blemish of his works. In brief, they who commend them∣selves seem to fore-judge that they look not for commendation from others; either for that they deserve none, or else for that they accuse the rest of Men of ingratitude towards them. And in either case, 'tis no wonder if they be sleighted and ill will'd by others.

The Third said, That he who commends himself is not to blame, provided he say nothing but what is true; because words

being the images of actions, it is unjust to require a man to make the original, and then forbid him to draw copies of it, such as are the commendations which typisie vertuous actions. And it seems to be the property of the vicious to bear envy against them thereupon, because they cannot attain to the same perfection; as an old woman beholds with jealousie the exqui∣site portraict of some young Beauty. True it is, as Alexander said, it was a great happiness for Achilles to find a Homer to com∣mend him. But when the unhappiness or ingratitude is such, that a goodly action falls into oblivion unless it be recounted by its author, who knows it better then any other; it is not rea∣sonable for virtue to be depriv'd, through such defect, of its on∣ly guerdon and aliment, which is praise. So a Father wonder∣fully extimulates his children to virtue by representing to them his own brave actions past. Yea it seems, that being his chil∣dren have an interest in his reputation, he cannot omit the re∣cital of what he hath done praise-worthy, without wronging them.

The fourth upheld the same Opinion, by alledging that a wise man may commend himself without blame, since he is so impar∣tial that he doth not consider himself as himself, but as he would do another man, whom he could not without injustice deprive of the commendation merited by him. And this is agreeable to a percept of nature, which enjoyns the rendring to every one what appertains to him.

The Fifth said, to commend one's self meerly for the sake of self-praise is a vicious extremity; but sometiemes to commend one's self in another, or to make use of the relation of our own commendable actions, as an Apology to oppose to the contempt, or detraction of our enemies, is a thing not only allowable, but also practis'd by the most eminent and holy personages. so S. Paul finding himself despis'd, boasted that he was noble, and a Citizen of Rome, that he had studied much, and that God had imparted to him his highest mysteries. For in this case we are in a manner oblig'd to praise our selves, by the Law of Nature, which renders our defence just. Therefore as he were a fool that should fence all alone in the open street, and a coward that should not defend himself when provok'd; so he that defends himself well when he is assaulted, doth not only provide for his own safety, but gets the reputation of a man of courage, as he also doth who commends himself when he is despis'd. Yet I would require thus much moderation in the praise which an in∣jury extorts from our own lips, that it extend no further then what is needful for the repelling the offer'd outrage. I would by no means have it affected, as it uses to be by some men, who are glad when they are blam'd, for that they may take occasion to expatiate upon their own praises. For the equitable hearer is indeed on our side, yet he is tacitely disgusted with our vaunt∣ings; because men are naturally addicted to contradiction,

whence their belief (the freest of all the mind's actions) is al∣ways less carried thither whither it is endeavour'd to be carri'd with most eagerness and violence. So an honest woman shall by a grave deportment, and a single gesture of slighting, sooner quash an injurious word then another can do by a long Apology of her whole life past. Saving in this case and manner, our pro∣per commendations are no less unacceptable then the blame which we attribute to our selves. He that praises himself is like a painted Face set out to the sight of every one; and he that blames himself resembles a sick person that takes pride in his in∣firmities true or imaginary, with which himself ought to be concern'd enough, not to trouble others who have nothing to do therewith.

II. Of Beauty.

Upon the second Point, it was said that Beauty may, with as much reason, be placld among the Transcendents, as (besides Goodness and Verity) Greatness, Duration, Power, Vertue, Knowledge, the Will, and Glory, are plac'd in that rank by Lul∣lius and his Disciples. For speaking of accidents, we say a fair largeness, a goodly quality, a handsome resemblance, a grace∣ful action, a becoming endurance or sufferance; and so of the other Categories, which result from Place, Time, and Habit. But it is particularly attributed to Substance. The Angels, Heavens, Elements and mixt Bodies, have all beauty, and so much the more as they are more perfectly mixt; as appears in Gold, Pearls and Jewels, in Flowers, Animals, and principally in Man; who again participates thereof variously according to Sex and Age. For the beauty of a man is other then that of a woman; of a child and a young man then that of an old man. Artificial things have likewise their share therein, when our eyes and judgements are pleas'd with their proportion, or find them conformable to the Model which the Workman pro∣pounded to himself. And as in most Sciences and Arts men have phancied to themselves Prototypes and Parallels, to serve in∣stead of patterns and models; in Policy, an accomplish'd Com∣monwealth, such as Plato, Sir Thomas More, and some others have delineated; in Physick, a Temperament most perfect and exquisite to a grain [call'd temperamentum ad pondus] in Elo∣quence, a perfect Orator: so they who have undertaken to speak of Beauty have imagin'd a perfect one, which (leaving women to set down the conditions which they require in hand∣some men) we will make to consist, as to them, in thirty one particulars, which go to the making up of a handsome woman. The 1. of those Points is Youth, which renders even the coursest animals agreeable. The 2. is a Stature neither too large nor too small. 3. A middle size of corpulency; because too fat or too lean are counted amongst imperfections. 4. Symetrie and proportion of all the parts. 5. Long, fair, and fine hair. 6. A skin soft and smooth, through which appear small veins. 7. A

lively whiteness of Lillies blended with Roses. 8. A smooth forehead, pleasingly arched, and always serene. 9. Temples not hollow. 10. Two black lines arch-wise, in stead of Eye∣brows. Two blew eyes well set in the head, well open'd and fix'd with a sweet glance. 12. A nose well shap'd and rightly set on. 13. Cheeks a little rounded, making a dimple. 14. A graceful smile. 15. Two lips of Coral. 16. A little mouth. 17. Small Pearls smooth and well ajusted in stead of teeth. 18. A sweet breath. 19. A well tun'd voice. 20. A chin dimpled, somewhat round and fleshy. 21. Ears small, ruddy, and well joyn'd to the head. 22. A neck of Ivory. 23. A bosome of Alabaster. 24. Two snow-balls. 25. A hand white, some∣thing long and plump. 26. Fingers ending by little in a Pyra∣mide. 27. Nails of mother of Pearl turn'd into an oval. 28. A gesture free and not affected. 29. Soft and smooth flesh. 30. A modest gate. The last point may be more easily imagin'd then honestly nam'd.

The second said, that Beauty hath no more but an imaginary Being, or, at least, is more in the phansie then in Nature. Which they acknowledge who set conditions for it never to be found in any subject whatever. Moreover, every real Entity, if it fall under the cognisance of the Senses, is conceiv'd in the same manner by all people in the earth, when the Organ is not hurt, the medium alike, and the distance equal, and all other circum∣stances are found the same. Thus Honey is every where ac∣knowledg'd by the same sweetness, and the Sun by the same light. But one and the same Beauty is not conceiv'd in the same fashion, nor esteemed such by all the people of the world; for the judgements thereof are found different, not only according to the diversity of Nations, but also in reference to the same people, yea the same person, at several times. Our ancient Gaules wore large foreheads, because in those days they ac∣counted the same handsomest, and we see also to this day old Pi∣ctures representing handsome women in that sort; whence arose the reproachful word, Effrons, Frontless, denoting one that hath no forehead or shame. At this day women think they can∣not have too little, they take so much pains to hide the same with their head-tire, and men, after their example. Much hair is at present recommendable in many places, especially in France. The handsomest of the Pagan Deities was call'd Inton∣sus Apollo: And the Scripture principally sets forth the beauty of women by their long hair, without which the comeliest would be terrible. Nevertheless, in the latter ages in France, 'twas a shameful thing for men to have much hair. In New France, the greatest past of the people wear no hair but on one side. The women of Camboya cut off theirs close to their ears. The Per∣usians have none but a lock on the top of the head; and the Ro∣mans of old ador'd Venus Calva: Our Ladies shape their Eye∣brows into arches. The Africans paint theirs into the figure of

a Triangle. Some, like an Aquiline and rising Nose; yet the flattest are counted most graceful amongst the Abyssines. Here eyes pretty prominent and of a middle size are esteem'd; in China little eyes are most priz'd. The Lybians love a large mouth, and lips turn'd backwards; here little ones are the most commendable. 'Tis one of the most agreeable parts that our Ladies shew; and yet the Arabians, esteeming the same inde∣corous, cover it as carefully as their backside. The Japonnois black their teeth; and every where else the whitest are most valued. Our Virgins streighten their bosomes the most they can; on the contrary, the Aethiopian women account those the most graceful breasts which they can cast over their shoulders. Youth is elsewhere lov'd; yet in the West Indies the oldest wo∣men are the handsomest. In Aethiopia and many other places the blackest are counted the handsomest; and in painting a De∣vil they make him all white, as we do black. In brief, there is not one of the assigned Characters of Beauty which is not con∣troverted by some Nation; and therefore there is no reali∣ty in it, but it depends upon our Phancie, as Fashions do. What is beauty then? 'Tis (in my judgements) what pleases us. For whatever deformity or defect there be in the thing we love, yet we account it handsome: Et quae Balbinum delectat Poly∣pus Agnae.

The third said, 'Tis too great a disparagement to the Goods of Nature, to say that Beauty, which is the most excellent of them, is only imaginary; its admirable effects being such that it per∣swades whatever it pleases; 'tis the surest commendatory Let∣ter, and hath influence not only upon rational souls, but even Elephants are transported with joy (as Aelian saith) when they meet a fair woman. And reason tells us that every thing which is goodly is good; because it is desirable, which is the essential qualification of good things. The beauty of the body is not only the token of that of the soul, which seems to be ill lodg'd, when it is found in an ugly body, but 'tis also a sign of the bo∣dy's health and good constitution. Yea the very beholding of Beauty conduceth to health, and continues it; whence it is that handsome Nurses and Governesses are assigned to Children; because the soul even from the cradle (being a Forreigner and retaining in it self the idea of its Creator's beauty) is marvellous∣ly pleas'd at the sight of every thing that approaches that beauty and harmony, and rejoyces at its meeting, acknowledging it her kindred and alley. Moreover, Plato saith, that Beauty is produc'd when the Forme predominates over the Matter, which is of it self foul and deformed. Which he affirmeth to have place also in the beauty of the soul; which he makes to consist in the advantage of the Intellectual part, which holdeth the place of Forme in man, over the Sensitive, which correspondeth to Matter. Aristotle will not allow it possible for Felicity to be perfect without the beauty of the Body, which hath sometimes

conferr'd the Scepter in elective Kingdoms. And our Saviour, amidst all the infirmities of our nature, caus'd to shine in him∣self the most perfect beauty that ever was in the rest of mankind. Now several beautiful things gratifie variously. White is esteem'd amongst Northern Nations, because there issues out of white bodies a certain brightness or light agreeable to the eyes of those people. But the same colour loseth that pre-eminence proportionably to a nearer approach toward the South.

CONFERENCE XXVII.

I. Whether the World grows old. II. Of Jealousie.

I. Whether the World grows old.

WEre we in those Commonwealths where the voice of the people is admitted, this Question would be very easie to resolve; there being no body but proclaims that the world is declining, and thinks that we are now in the very dregs of Time. 'Tis the ordinary discourse of old men. But possibly herein they resemble the old woman, who when she was grown blind, said the Sky was overcast; or those who sailing from the shore think that the earth retreats back, while 'tis themselves that are in motion. These good people no longer finding the same gust and pleasure in the delights of the world, that they found in their youth, lay the fault upon the world instead of imputing the same to themselves. Indeed their accusation is too old to be receivable, having been from all time, which made Horace say, that to represent an old man right, he must be introduc'd praising the time past. Yet we may give their rea∣sons the hearing. They affirm that every thing which hath had a beginning, and must have an end, grows old. That since all the parts of the world are variously corrupted, the same ought to be believ'd of the whole. That as for the Heavens, all the observations of Ptolomy are found at this day false, unless they be rectifi'd by the addition of certain motions of Trepidation which cause all the rest to vary. In the Air, the inconstancy of it, and the irregularity of the Seasons makes us not know when we are sure of any; the Spring sometimes appearing in Winter (as at present) and Winter in Autumn. In the Sea, you see it dismembers Provinces, gains and loses whole Countries by its inundations and recessions. And as for the Earth, it is very probably shown that in time it must naturally return to its first state in which it was all cover'd with water, and consequently void of men and most part of animals and plants, which make the three noblest parts of the Universe. For they who endea∣vour the raising of low grounds know that the same is accom∣plish'd

by giving entrance to the slime which the water brings thi∣ther, and which gathers together at the bottom; whence it comes to pass that Valleys through which torrents and brooks of rain-water pass, grow hollower daily; the impetuousness of the water sweeping the surface of the earth into rivers, and thence into the Sea. Wherefore though the world should not end by Conflagration, as it must do; since all the rain-waters, those of rivers and brooks go into the Sea, and carry thither with them the upper parts of the Earth, which is that that makes the waters so troubled and muddy, it is necessary that this earth in time fill up the cavities of the Sea, and reduce it to exact roundness; and then the water having no longer any channel must as necessarily cover the whole surface of the earth, except∣ing perhaps some points of rocks, which will decay and fall down in time, as about fifteen years ago a mountain in Suizzer∣land by its fall crush'd under its ruines the Town of Pleurs,* 1.9 which by that means made good the importance of its name. And although this may not come to pass till after divers thou∣sands of years if the world should last so long, yet it is not the less feasible, since it is a doing at the present, though by little and little.

The second said, That since the end of the world is to be su∣pernatural, it shall not proceed from old age; that though the earth were all cover'd over with waters, yet the world would not perish for all that, since the Elements would subsist; yea the same earth and the winds by succession of time would come to imbibe and dry up those waters, and so again discover the face of the earth. That if one of the Elements be diminish'd, another increases; if the water evaporate, the air is augment∣ed; if the air be condens'd, it addes to the water, and so the world cannot fail by all the alterations and changes which hap∣pen in simple and mixt bodies. For its order consists in the al∣ternative succession of various dispositions (and not in one sole disposition) like a circle which being finite in its parts is infinite in its whole. Moreover, if the world perish, it must be either by the annihilation of its whole, or of its parts; or else by their transmutation into some matter which cannot be part of the world. Not the first; for there needs no less a miracle to anni∣hilate then to create; and therefore nothing is annihilated. Not the second; for mixt bodies cannot be chang'd but either into other mixt bodies or into the Elements; now these are transmuted one into another; wherefore in either case they are still parts of the world. The most active of the Elements, Fire, without the miracle of the last conflagration, if you consider it in the Sphere which some have assign'd to it, it cannot burn the rest; for should it act in its own Sphere, which it doth not, it would at length be extinguish'd for want of air, into which con∣sequently part of it would be converted: or if you place it in the subterranean parts, the vapours and the exhalations which it

would raise from the Sea and the Earth, being resolv'd into water and air, would always preserve the being of those Elements. More∣over, the world would not serve at the day of judgement (as Philo the Jew saith) for a Holocaust to its author, if it were then found defective in any of its parts.

The third said, If you take the world for all the inferiour bo∣dies contain'd under the concave of the Moon, it is certain that it changeth. For the Heavens are not alter'd according to their substance, though they be according to their places. But it is impossible that the Elements acting so powerfully one against another by their contrary qualities be not at length weakned, and their activities refracted and impair'd, and particularly the earth wherein those subterranean fires do the same thing that na∣tural heat doth in animals when by the consumption of their radical humidity it makes them grow dry and old. External Agents (as the Air, and the Celestial Bodies, which in time un∣dermine Palaces of Marble, Brass and other bodies) contribute greatly to this alteration of the earth, which is the mark and but of actions of the superiour bodies, by whom it suffers in∣cessantly. This declination is observ'd in Plants, which had greater vertues in times past then they have at the present (as it is found, amongst others, in that Antidote made of tops of Rue, a Nut and a Fig, wherewith Mithridates preserv'd himself from all poysons, and which is now out of credit) but much more in man then other animals. For besides the diminution which befalls him as a mixt body, because he draws his nourish∣ment from the substance of plants and animals, he hath besides in himself a double ground of this decay of his strength, every thing partaking of nature and its food. Hence it is that we are much more short-liv'd then our fathers of old, who in the flower of the world's age (to speak with Plato, who makes it an animal) liv'd almost a thousand years; and since the Deluge by the cor∣ruption which its waters overflowing the earth caus'd in the whole Universe, they liv'd six hundred years, but at present few attain to eighty: Nor do we see any Gyants now a days, though they were very frequent in old time. Men's minds likewise have a great share of this deterioration, in the exercise of ver∣tues and arts. Besides, that there was never so great a multi∣tude of Laws and Ordinances, which are certain evidence of the depravation of manners.

The fourth said, Besides that 'tis dubious whether the years of our first Fathers were of equal length with ours, the cause of their long life may be attributed to a special priviledge of God, to the end they might by their long experience invent Arts and Sciences, and people the world. Moreover, 'tis above 4000 years since the term of 70 and 80 years became the common standard of humane life. Our age is not more corrupted then the first, made infamous by Fratricides, Sodomites, Incests, Treasons, and such other enormous sins, so much the more de∣testable

in that they had no example of them, as their posterity hath had since. And as for the inferior bodies, since their acti∣ons are at present altogether the same with what they perform'd in the beginning of the world; the Fire (for example) not burning less, nor the Water cooling less, then in Adam's time; it must be concluded that they are not chang'd, but remain al∣ways in the same state.

The Fifth said, That as in the Microcosme we may judge of the corruption of the Body by the least alteration of its parts, and fore-tell its death by the disorder observ'd in the most noble; so we may make the like Judgement in the Maerocosme, in which we see no Mixt Bodies, but what are corruptible. For things are no longer then they act, action being the measure of their being. And therefore seeing nothing can act perpetually, be∣cause the virtue of every thing is bounded and finite, nothing can be perpetual. As Knives, and the like instruments, are blunted with much cutting; so the qualities incessantly acting must of necessity be weakned, and at length become impotent. But the surest sign of the worlds corruption is the annihilation of corporeal formes, the noblest parts of the universe. For as for spiritual formes, when they are separated from the Body they are no longer consider'd as parts of the world.

The Sixth confirm'd this opinion by the abundance of new diseases sprang up in these last Ages, and unknown to the preced∣ing; as the Neapolitane Malady, the Scurvy, and sundry others, which cannot proceed but from the corruption of Humours and Tempers, and this from that of the Elements.

The Seventh said, That the world is so far from growing worse, that on the contrary it becomes more perfect; as 'tis pro∣per to things created from a small beginning, to increase, and at length attain their perfection; which the world having attain'd doth not decline, because it is not an organiz'd body, whose pro∣perty it is to do so after it hath attain'd its State. This is visible in Metals, and particularly in Gold, which the longer they re∣main in the Earth the more concoction and perfection they ac∣quire. Moreover, the Wits of Men are more refin'd then ever. For what could be more ignorant then the Age of our first Pa∣rents, for whom God himself was fain to make Clothes; those of their own making being onely fig-leaves. In the Ages follow∣ing, you see nothing so gross as what was then accounted the highest degree of subtlety, as the Learning of the Rabbins among the Jews, and the Druids among the Gauls; the best skill'd of whom might come to school to our Batchelors. But their gross ignorance in Handy-crafts appears, amongst others, in our Flowers de Luce, the figure whereof, stamp'd on their Coin, resembles any thing rather then a Flower de Luce.

II. Of Jealousie.

Upon the Second Point it was said, That Jealousie is very hard to be defin'd. If you rank it under the Genius of Fear, how

comes it to make Rivals so venturous in attempting and execut∣ing? If 'tis a sort of Anger and Indignation, whence do's it make them so pale? If you assign this Passion to Man alone, how do's it metamorphose them into beasts? taking from them all ex∣ercise of reason. If you admit it in beasts too, how do's it render Men so ingenious? I think they should speak best who should term it a Rage, since the most Tragical Histories are fullest of its actions. Yet you shall meet with some that make a laughter of it; and if a Mistress changes them, they also change their Mi∣stress; who when they are marry'd alwayes knock at the door though it be wide open, for fear of finding what they do not seek: Whereas others are jealous even of the sheets of their own bed. Let us therefore rank it amongst the caprichious Passions; or rather let us do like the Physitians, who having given names to all the Veins and Bones, term some (which they know not how to call otherwise) Innominate and sine pari. So this Passion shall be the nameless and peerless Passion.

The Second said, This Passion seem'd to depend on the Climates, Northern people being very little subject to it; where∣as they of the South cannot hear Mass or Sermon, unless there be a wall between the Men and the Women. And Bodin saith, 'twas one of the things which Mendoza (Gondamor) the Spanish Ambassador wonder'd at most in France and England, why Men went with Women into Churches. Likewise, Caesar saith of the English, that twelve of them were contented with one Woman, and agreed peaceably; whereas the Indians and Africans have troops of Wives; and yet Puna King of the Indians did not think his secure amongst his Eunuchs, till he had disfigur'd them, and cut off their Arms.

The Third said, that Jealousie may be compar'd to the Syrian Cow, of whom the Proverb saith, that indeed she fill'd the pail with her Milk, but presently overturn'd it with a kick. It gives Love, and it gives Ruine. And yet this Passion is so insepara∣ble, and so necessarily a companion of Love, that it do's the same office to it which the bellows do to the furnace which it kindles. For imagine a friendship in which there is no fear of Rivals, it will soon be extinguish'd, because the possession is accounted sure; and our affection is not carry'd violently, but where it finds resistance.

The Fourth said, Jealousie is a fear lest another injoy the Good which we challenge or possess. 'Tis the more dangerous in that it puts on the mask of Love, whereof nevertheless it par∣takes but little. The Poets represent Love to us like a Child full of joy and liberty; whereas Jealousie resembles an old, sullen, and distrustful Woman. Love proceeds from knowledge, (for we desire not things unknown) on the contrary, Jealousie, being a distrust either of our selves or the thing lov'd, or of both, pre∣supposes a deficiency of knowledge, and consequently of Love. Whence Women having less knowledge then Men, are likewise

more ready to entertain this Passion; and sometimes to such a degree, that those of the Isle of Lemnos kill'd all their Husbands upon it, excepting one.

The Fifth said, Jealousie is a sort of Indignation against one who intrencheth upon the honour which we account particularly due to our selves, or some other whom we love. Thus God is jealous of his glory, and good people likewise of the same. Brethren are jealous of their Father's Love. Those who seek the same office are jealous one of another. Rivals are so of the favours of their Mistresses. The first kind of Jealousie proceeds from the good opinion which every one hath of himself, of be∣ing more capable then any other, and better answering to the merits of the thing belov'd. And although it presupposeth Love, yet many times 'tis changed into Hatred, as Choler into Me∣lancholy. In its beginning it makes use of Anger and Revenge; if it continue, of Sadness and Discontent; and afterwards of Fear, which sometimes tends to Despair.

The Sixth said, That this Passion was a Grief for that another invades what is ours. For Grief, as the other Passions, changes its name according as it is determin'd and restrain'd to a particu∣lar object. It serves to preserve and increase Love, and there∣fore is not absolutely to be decry'd. It enkindles in us a desire to please, for fear the person lov'd prefer another, in whom ap∣pears more perfection, before us. In some cases a Man shall de∣serve the name of Paltron if he shews not Jealousie; since Justice allows not that what belongs to one should be common; for what is every bodie's is no bodie's. Wherefore onely exces∣sive Jealousie is blameable, being a mixture of many Passions, and the strongest and most violent affection that can seize upon the Mind, which it leaves no longer master of it self. It infuses di∣strusts and suspitions, and consequently to these, most inquiet∣ing curiosities to know the truth of what it seeks, but would not find; and which being found produces insupportable torments. The ill opinion which the Jealous hath of the person whom he pretends to Love causes him to misinterpret its best actions. Thus disturb'd Waters never represent well the species of Objects which they receive; and Eyes distemper'd with a suffusion judge things to be of the same colour wherewith themselves are tinctur'd.

The Seventh said, That Love is not of the nature of those Goods which the more they are communicated the more excel∣lent they are; But 'tis a Union of Wills, and so loses its name when divided; as the Sun-beams being dispers'd are weak, but burn when re-united by a Burning-glass. Jealousie, which is the fear of dis-union, springs from the merits of the thing belov'd, and from a suspition lest its perfection attract others be∣sides our selves, to love it; especially when we acknowledge less of merit in our selves then in our Rivals, knowing that the most perfect things are most lov'd.

CONFERENCE XXVIII.

I. What is the greatest Delight of Man. II. Of Cuckoldry.

I. What is the greatest De∣light of Man.

THe Rejoicings of this Season seem to have been appointed at the end of Winter, and entrance of Lent, two times equally sad, though upon different accounts; the one Natural, and the other Canonical. Because Joy is destinated to dilate the Trees, which Sadness shuts up. 'Tis caus'd several wayes. For nothing is pleasing but according to the correspondence which it hath to our Phancy; as Pictures and Musick delight not but by the proportion which they have with the Sight and Hearing. Whence of the two Painters who contended together about the excellence of their skill, he carry'd the prize who before he set to his work took heed to the place from whence it was to be seen. Now the phancies and opinions of Men being so differ∣ent, it is hard to know what is the greatest Joy, considering that the same thing may have correspondence to the Imagination of one, and repugnance to that of another. If a Musitian de∣lights you, you should but ill requite him if you took his instru∣ment and play'd him a lesson; 'tis Money which rejoyces him. He who could not drink his Wine, how excellent soever, unless it were carry'd to him to the Tavern, would have accounted all other delight empty without it. They who at present enjoy their Liberty in the Sea-ports, shew sufficiently what pleasure they take in play. In brief, as many different humours and inclinations as there are, so different will the judgements be upon this question: For even amongst those who place delight in Meats, you will scarce find three together whose Appetites agree. Besides, that who so would judge aright in the case must have tasted of all sorts of delights; yea, of each in its full extent, and with all its conditions requisite.

The Second said, Delight seemes to be the repeated sense of some joy, such as is seen in publick and solemn jollities; as here∣tofore in the Lupercalia and Saturnalia of the Romans, and now in our Carnival. Now Joy is a Passion so lov'd and cherish'd by Man, that we may thereby judge of its value. For as some Men are curious of rarities in Ebeny, others of Sea-shells, some of Antiquities of Marble, Flowers and Pictures, but all gene∣rally desire Gold, and like it well; so you see some valiant; others, studious; others, amorous; many, Sons of the bottle; briefly, this addicted to one action, and he to another; but you see none but loves Joy, what ever shew they make; and those pretended Cato's, each wrinckle of whose Faces is an obelisk, every word a censure, yet become tickled within themselves at the occurrence of pleasant objects, notwithstanding the blame

which they seem to lay upon them: Like those Stoicks who durst not sit down to Dinner, for fear it should be believ'd that they took Pleasure in it, and nevertheless lik'd the Wine as well as others. Observe how Children, even from the cradle, caresse with their Head and Hands those that make Mirth, and decline the sower and severe. Nor is the fear of Correction sufficient to keep them from running after all pleasant objects, which they will invent among themselves rather then want. Old men, as they most need, so they receive the greatest benefit from it; in this (perhaps) more unhappy then others, that having more knowledge by experience of what is pass'd, it is harder to delight them; Pleasure most easily arising from novelty. Since there∣fore all sorts of conditions and ages sacrifice to Joy, and Philo∣sophers have judg'd nothing more proper to Man then Laughter; I conceive, 'tis a kind of inhumanity to forbid commerce to this inseparable companion of Man; and although some may abuse it, yet it would be worse to interdict it, then to take away the use of Wine under pretext that some people sometimes take too much of it.

The Third said, Some contentments belong to the Mind, others to the Body. Not that the Body is capable of any Passion with∣out the Minds help; nor that the Soul, while it informes the Body, can apprehend any without its corporeal organs: but they borrow their name from the part which they chiefly affect. Thus, I can neither love nor hate, without having seen or heard the subject of my hatred or love; and yet 'tis the Soul, not the Body, which loves or hates: The Body can neither drink nor eat without the Soul, and nevertheless 'tis not the Soul that drinks or eats, 'tis the Body. This suppos'd, me-thinks, the greatest delight of the humane Mind consists in being lov'd, and this is the end of all its actions. Whence those words, Let Men hate me, provided they fear me,* 1.10 were taken to be rather the voice of a savage beast then of a Man. This appears, because all from the highest to the lowest, endeavour to gain the good∣will of every one. 'Tis this which makes Men so desirous of Praise, because the same renders them amiable; one for the excellence of his Mind, another for the beauty of his Body. Moreover, compare the misery of a Timon hated by all the world, with the contentment of a Titus, Vespatians Son, surnamed the De∣light of Mankind; and you will see that to be lov'd surpasses all the Pleasures of the world, as much, as 'tis unpleasing to be hated. For the love which is borne towards us supposes some perfection in us, which being known, esteem'd, and prefer'd above that of others, produces the great contentments which we find therein. But as for those of the Body, Pani and all Greece too well found the ill consequence of adjudging the golden apple to the Goddess, whom Luxury made him prefer before the others, to encourage us to follow his example. Demosthenes had reason when he refus'd to buy at too dear a rate the repen∣tance

which ordinarily follows this Pleasure; the corners which it seeks, and the shame which accompanies it, together with its little duration, allow it not to be equall'd with other Passions compatible with Honour, and practis'd in the sight of all the world; as feasts, dances, shews, sports, merry words, and the like, all which, I conceive, ought to be added together to make per∣fect Delight. But since 'tis requisite to prefer one, and punctu∣ally satisfie the question, I shall affirm, according to the liberty allow'd in this company, that nothing seemes to me more capa∣ble to delight a Man then Good Cheer; there's no better friend∣ship then that which is acquir'd by cracking the glass; friend∣ships proceeding from sympathy of humours, and this from the same viands. And, in brief, if this receipt did not serve better to exhilarate Men then any other, you should not see it so dili∣gently practis'd in these dayes by all the world. Alexander the Great, and the Famous Marius, took no greater pleasure then in drinking great draughts. And the tediously-severe humour of the Catoes was not sweetned but at the table, where they ordina∣rily continu'd seven or eight hours. Moreover, Old-age, which we ought to follow for its great experience, after having pass'd through all the pleasures of life, fixes at last upon that of the Table, as the surest and most lasting; others sliding away so fast, that they give not our Senses time to taste them, (which word testifies that 'tis the Taste which ought to judge.) And if it be said that their bodies are not capable of other contentments, I answer, that the Organs of all the faculties are in them equally debilitated.

II. Of Cuckoldry

Upon the Second Point, it was said, That to judge well of it, it is requisite to understand all the cases which make Men Cuckolds. Some are so, and know nothing of it. Some think they are, but are not; and these are more miserable then if they were, and knew it not. If we believe Histories, some are so without their Wives fault, who have mistaken others for their own Husbands. Some are so, and half see it, yet believe nothing of it, by reason of the good opinion which they have of their Wives. Further, some know they are so, but do all they can to hinder it. Such was P. Cornelius, and Corn. Tacitus. In fine, some know it and suffer it, not being able to hinder it; And I ac∣count these alone infamous.

The Second said, That the word Cuckold, deriv'd from Cuckow, is Ironically us'd; for this Bird layes her eggs in the neast of others; or else, because they who frequent other Mens Wives are oftentimes serv'd in the same manner; or else for the reason upon which Pliny saith Vine-dressers were anciently called Cuckows, (that is to say, slothful) who deferr'd cutting their Vines till the Cuckow began to sing, which was a fortnight later then the right time: And thus the same name may have been given to those who by their negligence or sloth give their

Wives so much liberty that they abuse it. Unless we had rather say, that this Bird, being (as Aristotle saith) cold and moist of its own nature, and yet so prudent, as knowing it self unable to defend and feed its own young, it puts them into the neasts of other Birds, who nourish them as if they were their own; thus timerous, soft and weak Men, have been call'd Cuckolds, because not being able to support their own families, they cause the same to be maintain'd by others with the loss of their credit. They who derive it from the Greek word Coccyx, which signifies the rump, are not much out of the way. In brief, some go so far as to derive it from the Latine word Coquus, because those people lodging and feeding their Wives, and taking care of their Children, do like Cooks who trust out victuals to others.

The Third said, That Cuckoldry was but an imaginary thing; that the unchastity of the Wife could not dishonour the Husband, considering that what is out of us and our power do's not any wayes concern us; and it being impossible for the wisest Man in the world, by the consent of all, to hinder the lu∣bricity of an incontinent Woman. Now no body is oblig'd to what is impossible; and as a vicious action ought to be onely imputed to its author, so ought the shame and dishonour which follows it; and 'tis as absurd to reflect it upon him who contri∣buted not at all to the crime, as 'tis to ascribe the glory of a vir∣tuous action to him who not onely did nothing towards it, but with-stood it as much as he could. The Lawyers hold that a Contract made in secret, and without calling all the parties who have interest in it, cannot prejudice them; so neither can what Wives do without privity of their Husbands be any thing to their prejudice. Besides, if the dishonour were real, it would be so every where, and to all Men; but there are whole Nations who account not themselves dishonour'd by the business. The Abyssines take it not ill that their High Priest lyes with their Wives on the marriage-night, to purifie them. The people of the East Indies permit the injoyment of their Wives to those who give them an Elephant, being proud of having a Wife valu'd at so high a price. The Romans, though the most honourable of their time, were so little sollicitous what their Wives did in their absence, that returning out of the Country, they alwayes us'd to send some body to advertise them of their arrival; so afraid they were to surprize them. And indeed, Pompey, Caesar, Au∣gustus, Lucullus, Cato, and many other great personages, were not the less esteem'd for having the Bulls feather given them by their Wives.

The Fourth said, Horns are not alwayes imaginary, since Histories assures us that they have really gor'd some persons, as M. Benutius Cippus, Praetor of Rome; the Ignominy likewise of them is real, and to say otherwise, is to go against the common opi∣nion. For since Honour is in him who honours, not in him who is

honour'd; (the reason of contraries being alike) dishonour shall consequently come from him who dishonours. Now 'tis cer∣tain, most agree in this that Cuckolds are derided, though they know nothing of it. For as true honour may be given to one who deserves it not; so may he be really dishonour'd who deserves nothing less. A good man publickly punish'd is truly dishonour'd, though he be innocent; for 'tis requisite that the Sovereign Courts take away the infamy which he has incurr'd. A Virgin unwillingly deflower'd is yet dishonour'd by it; and the vicious deportments and ignominious deaths of men derive shame to their relations. Much more, therefore, shall the shame attending the disgraceful lightness of a wife reflect upon her hus∣band; for being two in one flesh, that which touches one touches the other also, the innocence of the husbands (who are also usually styl'd good) remaining intire. So that one may be dishonour'd and yet be vertuous; as also a Cuckold and an ho∣nest man together.

5. The Fifth said, That he counted it strange that Horns were the sign of infamy and ignominy in Marriage; consider∣ing that otherwise they were always badges of grandeur and power. When one dreams that Horns are upon his forehead, 'tis always a presage of dignity. Thus, at the birth of Cl. Albi∣nus, a Cow of his Father's having brought forth a Calfe with two red Horns, the Augurs foretold the Empire to him; which accordingly came to pass. And to honour those horns which had been the omen of his grandeur, he caus'd them to be hung up in Apollo's Temple. The Majesty of Jupiter Hammon, Bac∣chus and Pan, is represented by horns. Plenty also is signifi'd by a horn fill'd with all sort of fruits.

The Sixth said, Though every one's honesty and vertue de∣pend on himself and not on the actions of another; yet the point of his honour and esteem is drawn from divers circumstance and conditions of things neerly pertaining to him; which the tyran∣ny of common or rather phantastick opinion have establish'd as marks either to raise or blemish the lustre of his reputation. Hence we value those most who are descended of an illustrious Family, though they have no other mark of it but the name. Because, to speak after the common rate, our happiness or infe∣licity, and the compleat degree of our reputation, are the ef∣fects or consequents of what we call ours. Now our Kindred are not only ours, but are accounted to be our own blood, and our other selves; and wives are not only so much to their hus∣bands, or part of them, but they are the half of whatever they are. But if a part resent alteration by the affection of a part, 'tis impossible but the one half must be infected with the ignomini∣ous impudicity wherewith the other is contaminated. 'Tis true, all crimes ought to be personal; but because men have mista∣kingly plac'd their happiness in external things (instead of estab∣lishing it in vertue which they ought to have in themselves) 'tis

not to be wonder'd if having made the principal of the accessory, they bear the punishment of so doing. Besides, for chastise∣ment of this folly, their felicity is never perfect, because they constitute it in that which is without their own power. Let it not be said, that since women derive all their lustre and splendor from their husbands, they cannot either increase or diminish the same; for the Moon receives all its light from the Sun, neverthe∣less when she is ill dispos'd, or looks with a bad aspect, or is in conjunction with him in the Nodes, and especially when she is apply'd to some infortunate Planet, she covers his face with darkness and clouds, at least to our view, though indeed he loses nothing of his clearness or light. A comparison the more sutable to a woman of bad life, in that the one and the other shine and rejoyce most at distance from him of whom they re∣ceive their light, and in that they do not approach neer him but to make horns; and lastly, in that they are never so sad as when they are with him. In brief, a Cuckold cannot avoid blame, either of defect of judgement in having made so bad a choice, or of indiscretion, weakness and want of authority, in not being able to regulate the deportment of his inferior; or else of little wit in not discovering her artifices to remedy the same. And should he always avoid them, yet he will still have the name of unhappy; and in the Age we now live in, unhappiness or misery draw shame and contempt along with them.

CONFERENCE XXIX.

I. Whence the saltness of the Sea proceeds? II. Which is the best Food, Flesh or Fish.

I. Whence the Saltness of the Sea pro∣ceeds.

ALthough the water and other Elements were in the begin∣ning created in their natural purity, and without mixture of any forreign quality, such as saltness is to the water, which covering the whole surface of the earth would have made the same as barren as the Sea shores, yet it seems that in the separa∣tion of things, every one going its several way, God assign'd its peculiar qualities not only for its own preservation, but for the general benefit. Thus the water being retir'd into the Ocean receiv'd saltness, lest that great humid body, coming to be heat∣ed by the Sun, might putrifie (its flux and reflx, and its motion much slower then that of rivers, not being sufficient alone to hin∣der it) if the salt did not preserve it from corruption, as it doth all other things; and to the end that its waters being salt, and by that means more terrene and thick, might bear not onely Whales and other Fishes of enormous bignes, but also the great Ships necessary for the commerce of distant Climates, and the

mutual transportation of commodities wherewith each Country abounds; whereby the life of men is render'd far more delight∣ful. For experience teaches that an egge will swim in a Vessel of water sufficiently salted, but sink in fresh. And the Chirur∣gions have no surer way then this, to know whether the Lixivi∣um (or Lee) wherewith they make their potential Cauteries, be strong enough. Now the Ocean imparts its saltness to all Seas which have communication with it. Whence the Caspian Sea is fresh, because 'tis separated from it. And 'tis no more strange that saltness is natural to the Sea, then that many other bodies, amongst Plants and Minerals, have a measure of it. The earth is almost every where salt, as appears by Salt-peter, Vitriol, Alum, and other kinds of Salt, which are drawn out of pits little deep∣er then the surface and crust of the earth, which is incessantly wash'd and temper'd with water. And amongst Plants, Sage, Fearn, and many other, taste of salt, which being augmented turns into the bitterness and acrimony which is found in Worm∣wood, Spurge, and many other Herbs: all which, yea every other body, partake thereof more or less, as Chymical opera∣tions manifest.

The Second said, Being we are not to recur to supernatural causes unless natural fail us, methinks 'tis more fit to refer the Sea's saltness to some natural cause then to the first creation, or to the will of the Creator. I conceive, therefore, that the cause of this Saltness is the Sun, who burning the surface of the earth leaves, as 'twere, hot and dry ashes upon it, which by rain are carried into the rivers, and thence into the Sea. Besides, the Sun elevating continually from the Sea by its heat the fresh∣est parts of it, as being the lightest and neerest the nature of air, the more terrestrial and salt remain in the bottom: or else the Sea-waters gliding through the bowels of the earth, to maintain springs, leave thicker parts, as those dry and acid ashes behind, which by their mixture produce this saltness and bitterness in the Sea. Nor is it to be wonder'd that the heavenly bodies draw so great a quantity of waters out of the Sea; for though the Vessel be very large, yet is the heat of the Sun able to heat it, since it reaches so deep as to concoct Metals in the entrails of the earth. And if it were not thus, all the rivers disgorging themselves into the sea, it would long ago have overflown the earth. But to know how nature makes the saltness of the Sea, let us see by what artifice Salt is made in our Pits. 'Tis made by the same activity of the Sun which draws up the sweet parts of the water and condenseth the salt. Whereby it appears that it is but a further progress of the first action of the same Sun, who dispos'd the Sea-water to become the matter of such Salt.

The Third said, A thing may become salt two ways; either by separation of the sweetest and subtilest parts, and leaving only the earthy, which come neer the nature of salt; or else by mix∣ture of some other body, either actually or potentially salt.

The Sea acquires saltness by both these ways. For (first) it hath two sorts of water, the one subtile and light, the other thick and terrestrial; after the Sun hath drawn up in vapour the more subtile of these waters, and by its continual heat con∣cocted the thick and terrene remainder, which having not been able to ascend by reason of its ponderosity, remains on the up∣per part of the water, and gives it that saltness; which is again remov'd when the sea-water being strain'd and filtr'd through the earth, or by other ways (formerly mention'd in this Com∣pany, in discourse concerning the original of waters) comes forth in springs and rivers; which no longer retain the nature of their source, because they bring not along with them the earthy part, in which the saltness consists. Now that the salt part is more gross then the fresh, appeares, in that the former becomes thick, and the latter not. Thus, the freshest things become salt by the fire, whose heat separates the subtile parts from the thick. As for the second way, as the waters carry with them the quali∣ties of places through which they pass (whence they are mineral, or metallick) and as in a Lixivium, fresh water passing through ashes becomes salt; so the sea-waters acquire and increase their saltness by mixture of salt bodies, such as are the Hills of salt (as Cardan holds) which are produc'd anew, like Sulphur and Bitu∣men in burning Mountains. Now this saltness is caus'd either by rains full of mineral spirits which abound in acrimony; or by the cinereous parts of the earth scorch'd by the Sun; or lastly, as things pass'd through the fire taste always of an Empyreuma (or turning-to) so the subterranean fires, likely to be as well in the bottom as in the middle and borders of the Sea (as they are ordinarily) impart bitterness and saltness to it. For as for those who say 'tis nothing else but the sweat of the earth, they speak (saith Aristotle) more like Poets then Philosophers. And this metaphor is more proper to explain the thing then shew its true cause.

The Fourth said, That all secrets consisting in the salt (if we believe the Chymists) 'tis not to be wonder'd if it be difficult to find the cause of it; it being the property of secrets to be hid. And to practise the Rule which injoyns to credit every expert person in his own Art, I shall for this time be contented with this reason, drawn from their Art: They hold the Salt to be the balsam of nature, the connecter of the body with the spirit (for they alot spirits to all bodies) so that every body lasts more or less according to the salt which it hath, and the salt in like manner remains longer or shorter according as it is fix'd or vola∣tile. This being premis'd, I should think that this great com∣pounded body, the World, needing a great quantity of Salt, answerable to its vast bulk, Nature could not find any other suf∣ficient receptacle for it but the Ocean.

II. Whether is the better Flesh or Fish.

Upon the second Point, it was said, The word Best is taken, at the table and amongst food, with reference to the Taste: in Physick, for most healthful or wholsome: In Divinity, for, most conducible to salvation, and proper to the soul: In Policy, for, most commodious to the publick. For as the word good is a Transcendent, passing through all the Categories of substances and accidents, its comparatives also do the like. Leaving to Di∣vines the considerations which pertain to them in this matters, in which they are much puzzled to apply a Rule to so many diffe∣rent Climates, Seasons and Persons; we may here make compa∣rison of Flesh and Fish in the other three Cases; In regard of the state, of Physick, and the Table. All which have this common, That it cannot be pronounc'd, as to one of them, which of the two is best, Flesh or Fish; because 'tis requisite to have regard to places and persons. To begin with Policy. 'Tis true, a time must be left to fowls to lay their egges, hatch and bring up their young; to other animals, to suckle theirs; other∣wise the earth and the air would soon be depopulated; which time is usually the spring. But being this season and all others follow the course of the Sun in the Zodiack, which renders it various according to the diversity of Climates, we cannot find a time equally and universally proper for that release of Animals. Besides, there are Countries, as England and Holland, so abound∣ing with fish and persons addicted to fishing, that nature offering them fish of her own accord, and their land not producing enough of other food for its inhabitants, the meaner people could not live of their industry, unless they were oblig'd by po∣litical Rule to live a certain time with Fish, and abstain from Flesh. As on the contrary, there's such a defect of fish in the middle parts of Spain, that they keep fast with the least nutri∣tive parts of Animals, Feet and Entrails. Wherefore a general political rule cannot be establish'd; but, as in most other things of the world, we must make use of a leaden Rule, and conform it to the stone. Secondly, for Physick; the Case is much the same. For by reason of the variety of Tempers, fish will not only be wholsome, but also appointed by the Physitians to some persons, as to the Cholerick, whose stomacks need refreshment. True it is, there are found more to whom Fish do's hurt, then otherwise. But this proceeds from satiety and too great repleti∣on, which would not be so frequent if we liv'd in the ancient Frugality: For we see, they who eat no supper receive less hurt from fish then others do. But 'tis always true that fish can∣not be absolutely pronounc'd wholesome or unwholsome. As for the goodness of Taste, that is yet more controverted, as de∣pending on the several phancies of men.

The Second said, That to judge this Question well, the same conditions are to be observ'd as in Juridical Sentences; in which alliances or friendships are allowable causes of exception, and credit is not given to those whose converse and particular

inclination to one of the Parties renders their judgements suspected.

No doubt, he who had been fed with Stock-fish from his youth, and lov'd it so much that being arriv'd to the Pontifical Dignity, even then made his most delicious fare of it, would have concluded for fish. On the contrary, most others, whose stomacks agree not so well with fish, will give the advantage to flesh. 'Tis true, If it be here as 'tis in petty Courts, where he who cries loudest carries the Cause, then fish, to whom nature has deny'd the use of voice, must lose it, unless we maturely weigh their reasons. 1. The value and delicacy of Meats is usually rated according to their rarity and the scarcity of get∣ting them; and therefore Heliogabalus never ate flesh but on the main Sea, nor fish but when he was very distant from it. Now Nature has separated fish from the habitation of men, and divi∣ded the one from the other as much as the water is from the Earth. 2. There's no kind of taste upon land which is not found in the water; nor any terrestrial animal but hath its like in the Sea. But we cannot say the same of Fishes, that there are terrestrial animals which have all their several tastes; and this proceeds from the almost infinite number of Fishes good to eat: whereas the Kinds of land-animals serviceable for man's food are very few. To that we may answer such as ask whether there be more delicacy in Flesh or Fish, as those who should ask whether Table is more delicious, that of a Citizen cover'd only with his ordinary fare, or that of Lucullus abounding besides with all imaginable rarities. You have some fishes who have nothing of fish but the name, having the consistence, colour, smell and taste of flesh; and the Hashes and Bisques made of them differ not from others. But you have no flesh which hath the taste of fish. 3. Animals more subject to infirmities and diseases ought less to delight our taste, and make us more afraid of them. Now land-animals are more sickly then fish, whose healthiness occasion'd the Proverb, As sound as a Fish. 4. Our taste is chiefly delighted in variety. Now there is not only in∣comparably more sorts of Fishes then of other Animals, but each of them is prepar'd after many more fashions then Flesh; there being some Fish which is dress'd five several ways: whereas when you have roasted a Partrich, or made a hash, Capilotade, or the Cook is at the end of his skill. 5. That which cloyes most is less delicate, as we see the most delicious things are those which whet instead of satiating the Appetite presently. Now Fish fills less then Flesh. 6. 'Tis a more friable food, and easier to be grownd by the teeth then the flesh of land-animals; and conse∣quently more delicate.

3. The Third said, There's no flesh, how delicate soever, which comes neer the odour and savour of the little Pulpe, the fish Spaga taken in Sicily, the Tunny and Atolle of Phrygia, of those little fishes call'd Cappes found in the stones in Marca

d' Ancona, and infinite others so esteem'd by the ancients, that they reckon'd amongst their greatest Delights, Ponds and Con∣servatories of Fish, which they nourish'd even with the bodies of their Slaves, to the end they might be more tender and deli∣cate: as 'tis reported of Lucullus and Pollio who caus'd theirs to be devour'd by Lampreys. Nor is fish less nutritive then flesh, see∣ing there are whole Nations, as the Ichthyophagi, which have no other bread but fish, of which dry'd in the Sun and reduc'd into powder they make a bread as nourishing as ours. By which means Fish serves both for bread and for meat; which Flesh can∣not be made to do.

The Fourth said, That the more affinity food hath with our nature, the more agreeable it is to us, it being the property of aliment to be like the thing nourish'd. Now 'tis certain, there's more resemblance between our bodies and those of land∣animals, then those of fish; considering that the former breathe the same air with us, and are nourish'd with the same things. Besides, aliment, the more concocted and digested, is also the more delicate: raw flesh is not so delicate as dress'd, nor boil'd as roast, upon which the Fire acts more: and the parts of ani∣mals neerest the heart or which are most stirr'd, as in Sheep the breast and shoulder, are the most savoury. Now Fish have much less heat then terrestrial animals, as appears in that 'tis scarce perceivable; and consequently are less concoct and savoury, but fuller of excrementitious and superfluous humidity, which renders them more flat and insipid then the flesh of animals, call'd Meat by way of excelience. Whence also all hunted flesh or Venison are more delicate then domestick food, because wild animals dissipate, by the continual motion wherewith they are chafed, the superfluous humours, which domestick acquire by rest. But experience alone and the Church's command are reasons sufficiently strong to establish this truth. For experience (the mistress of things, always causing the most to seek the best) shews us that more people eat flesh then fish. And the Church doth not forbid us flesh, and injoyn fish, but to mortifie us.

The fifth said, That the Flesh of Animals is the rule of the goodness of Fish, which is the better the nearer it comes to Flesh; whence arose the Proverb, Young Flesh, and old Fish; because in time it acquires the consistence of Flesh. Now that which serves for a rule must needs excell the thing to be judged of by it. Nor doth the variety of sauces wherewith Fish is prepar'd make more to its advantage, then the goodness of the heaft doth to prove that a knife is very sharp.

CONFERENCE XXX.

I. Of the Terrestrial Paradise. II. Of Em∣balmings and Mummies.

I. Of the Ter∣restrial Para∣dise.

THe existence of the Terrestrial Paradise cannot without im∣piety be doubted, since the Scripture assures us that it was in the Eastern parts towards Eden, which place Cain inhabited afterwards, and is design'd by Ezechiel, cap. 27. neer Coran in Mesopotamia. But though 'tis not easie to know its true place, yet I am of their mind who hold that it was in the Mountain Paliedo in Armenia, the four Rivers mention'd to water Paradise issuing out of that Mountain; to wit, Lareze and Araxes, Tigris and Euphrates. Lareze running towards the West falls into Palus Maeotis, or the Mar del Zabac. Araxes going towards the East discharges it self into the Caspian Sea, or Mar de Sala. Tigris and Euphrates run into the Mar de Messedin, or Persian Gulph. And so Lareze and Araxes will be the Pison and Gihon mentioned in Scripture, not the Nile and Ganges, as some have thought; for the head of Nile being distant from that of Ganges 70 degrees, which make 1800 Leagues, how can they come from the same place? Nor is it to be wonder'd if those Rivers have chang'd their names, it being ordinary, not only to Rivers, but to Seas, Cities, and Provinces. Thus the River Tanais is now call'd Don; Ister is nam'd Danubius; Eridanus, Padus, or the Poe; Pactolus, Tagus; and almost all others.

The second said, 'Tis with this delicious place as with Illustri∣ous Persons, whose Country being unknown, every one chal∣lenges for theirs. Thus after Homer's death seven Cities fell into debate about his birth, every one pretending to the glory of it. And thus the place of terrestrial Paradise being unknown to men, many have assign'd it to their own Country; but especi∣ally the Orientals have right to appropriate the same to them∣selves, having a title for it. Some have conceiv'd, That before the Deluge it took up the most fertile Regions of the East, name∣ly, Syria, Damascus, Arabia, Aegypt, and the adjacent Provinces; but the Waters having by their inundation disfigured the whole surface of the earth, and chang'd the course of the four Rivers, there remains not any trace or foot-step of it. Many believe that it was in Palestine, and that the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil was planted upon Mount Calvary, where our Lord was Crucified, to the end the sin of our first Father might be ex∣piated in the same place where it was committed: For they who place it under the Equinoctial Line may find some reason for it as to the Heaven, but not as to the Earth: But they who as∣sign it to the concave of the Moon had need establish new Prin∣ciples, to keep themselves from being ridiculous. They best ex∣cuse

our ignorance who say, That 'tis indeed in some place upon the Earth, but Seas, or Rocks, or intemperateness of Climate, hinder access to it: Whereunto others add, That when God punish'd the sin of man with the Flood, his Justice left the place where the first was committed still cover'd with waters.

The third said, What is commonly alledg'd, That the way to Paradise is not easie, though meant of the Coelestial, may al∣so be applied to the Terrestrial; for it is amongst us, and yet the way which leads to it cannot be found. The diversity of opinions touching its true place hath given ground to some Fa∣thers to take this History in a mystical sence, and say, That this Paradise was the Universal Church; That the four Rivers which watered it and all the Earth were the four Evangdlists, their Gospels (which at first were written for the benefit of the faith∣ful) having resounded through all the corners of the Earth; That the Trees laden with good Fruits are the good Works of the many holy Personages; the Tree of Life, our Lord Christ; the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, our Free-will; Adam, our Soul; Eve, our Senses; the Serpent, Temptation; the banishment of Adam out of Paradise, the loss of Grace; the Cherubim wielding his flaming Sword, the Divine Anger and Vengeance; and the leaves of the Fig-tree, the vain excuses of our first Parents. But some Geographers having taken notice of a place not far from Babylon where the Rivers Euphrates and Ti∣gris joyn together, and afterwards are divided again, and change their names, one of the Arms (which descends into the Persian Sea) being call'd Phasis, which is Pison; the other (which is Gi∣hon) passing through Arabia Deserta, and Aethiopia, which is neer it, have conceiv'd that the Terrestrial Paradise was at the place of the Conjunction of those four Rivers between the Caspian, Persian, and Mediterranean Seas, towards Mesopotamia and Ara∣bia. And consequently it seems best to take this History accord∣ing to the Letter, there being a place still which agrees with the truth of that description. Nevertheless the Objection, [That the small portion of Land which appears between those Rivers would not have suffic'd to lodg and feed Adam and his Posterity, as would have been necessary in case he had not finn'd.] makes me rather incline to their opinion who think that the Terrestrial Paradise was all the habitable Earth, such as it was before sin; the four Rivers, the four Seasons of the Year, or the four Cardinal Winds, or the four Elements; which is manifested in that the Scripture doth not set down that Adam went to Travel into any other Land after he was driven out of Paradise. 'Twas enough for him that this Earth was no longer a Paradise to him, but pro∣duc'd nothing but thorns and thistles, instead of the fruits and flowers which it afforded before God had curs'd it, and so inse∣parably connected man's labour with those fruits, that now a days to express a hundred acres of Land we commonly say, A hundred acres of Labour. And as a place ceases to be the Court when

the King is no longer in it, so the Divine Benediction withdrawn from the Earth, it ceas'd to be Paradise: Yea, Adam having ceas'd to be King of it, and by his sin lost the Dominion which he had over all, even the fiercest Creatures, the Earth became no longer a Paradise to him. But if I be requir'd to assign a parti∣cular place to this Paradise, leaving the description of places which I never saw to the belief of Geographers, I find none more fit for it then France: Its Climate is temperate, especially towards the East and South: It hath four Rivers, which bring into it Gold, and all the other Commodities attributed unto Pa∣radise by the first Historian: It so abounds with all sorts of flow∣ers that it hath taken three Lillies for its Arms; And with fruits, that it hath for it self and its Neighbours; yea, above any other, it produces every Tree fair to look upon, and good for food (to use the Scripture-words). One interpos'd, That he should think 'twas Normandie, so fruitful of goodly Apples, were it not that no Vines grow there, whose fruit is so pleasant to behold.

The fourth said, As there is no great certainty in the conse∣quences drawn from Allegories, so neither are Allegories very successfully drawn from Histories, and substituted in their places. I know not what History is, if that of our first Father be not; nor where to stop, if people will subtilize upon the first circum∣stance of his Creation, and what he did afterwards. But if we find difficulty in according the Geographical Tables of the pre∣sent time with the truth of that, why do not we likewise make Allegories of the Creation, and all its sequels, which are so ma∣ny Miracles? If we see no Angel that guards the access to it, no more did Balaam see that which stood in his way, though visible to his Asse. And being the space of the Garden of Eden is not determinately set down, nothing hinders but that it might be of very vast extent; and this takes away the scruple of those who object the distance which is between all those great Rivers. Be∣sides, being Enoch and Elias were since Adam's fall transported into this Paradise, where they must be till the coming of Anti∣christ, 'tis a certain Argument of its real subsistence.

II. Of Embalm∣ings and Mummies.

Upon the second point it was said, That the Ancients were much more careful then we, not only to preserve the Images of their Fore-fathers, but also to keep their Bodies, which they variously embalmed. The Grecians wash'd them in Wine min∣gled with warm Water, and then put them them into oyl of Olives, Honey, or Wax. The Aethyopians first salted them, and then put them into Vessels of Glass. In the Canary Islands they season them in the Sea, and afterwards dry them in the Sun. The Scythians place them upon Mountains cover'd with snow, or in the coolest Caves. Indeed every one knows there is a Cave at Tholouze which hath a particular virtue to preserve carkasses from corruption, and in which is seen at this day the entire body of the fair Saint Baume, and many others, dead

above 200 years ago. The Indians cover'd them with ashes. The Aegyptians conceiving that bodies corrupted rose not again, and that the Soul was sensible of the Bodies corruption, did not yield to any people in curiosity of preserving them; they fill'd with Myrrhe, Cinamon and other Spices, or with Oyl of Ce∣dar; then they salted them with Nitre, whose aerimony con∣sumes all the superfluous humidities which cause putrifaction. 'Tis from these bodies that we have that excellent Mummie, whose admirable effects I ascribe to sympathy. But concerning what is affirm'd, that being transported by Sea they cause tempests and strange agitations in the Ship; 'tis an effect which is to be attributed to a more occult cause.

The Second said, Man is so admirable an Edifice, that even his Ruines have their use. His Fat is one of the most excellent Ano∣dynes. His Skull serves against the Epilepsic. This liquor which is drawn from his Tomb hath several vertues: and the reasons of the great and admirable effects imputed to it, as the healing of inwards Ulcers; and Contusions of Blood arriving to such as have fallen from on high, seem to me imputable to three Causes; a Spiritual, a Celestial, and an Elementary. The first ariseth hence, that so perfect a Form as the reasonable Soul, having in∣form'd part of this Compositum, which by the mixture of some Ingredients, as Myrrhe and Aloes, hath been preserv'd from cor∣ruption, the same thing arrives to it which the Chymists say doth to their white Gold when they have extracted its Sulphur and Tincture. For being re-joyn'd to other Gold, it easily re∣sumes the same form, and is sooner and more inseparably com∣bin'd with it then any other thing, as having been of the same species. So when you put Mummie into a body of the same spe∣cies, it takes part with the nature whence it proceeded, and sid∣ing with it incounters the disease and its symptomes: like Suc∣cour coming to relieve a besieged City with provisions and am∣munition. The Celestial cause is drawn from the Heavens; for that the light and influence of superiour bodies act upon all the sublunary; but, by the consent of all, none is so susceptible of their actions as man; and if his soul be not subject thereunto, yet his body is, undoubtedly; to each part of which each part of Heaven not only answers, as some hold, but the whole to all. Whence is seen the diversity of disposition, inclinations and man∣ners, such and so great, that 'tis a palpable mistake to attribute the same to the meer mixture of the Elements. Now Mummie, having receiv'd, not only while it was animated▪ but afterwards, all the influences whereof the humane body is susceptible, it be∣comes, as it were, the abstract of all the Celestial powers; and better then Talismanical figures, communicates the same to him that uses it. The last reason, drawn from the mixture of the Elements and their qualities, might suffice alone without the preceding. For Man being the abridgement of the world, ought also to contain all the faculties of it; and his Mummie

being inanimate, but having liv'd the life of a plant, an animal and a man, it contains all these natures eminently.

The Third said, That Man affecting nothing so much as im∣mortality, because he fears nothing more then death; and being unable to secure himself from it, do's all that he can to perpetu∣ate himself in some fashion, since he cannot wholly. The de∣sire of supporting his Individual person, and defending it from all inconveniences which may abridge his life, makes him count nothing difficult. In Propagation he seeks the eternity of his species. And though he is assur'd, by Reason, of his soul's im∣mortality; and by faith, of his body's resurrection, yet he seeks all ways he can imagine to render the memory of all his actions perpetual. 'Tis this desire of getting a death-less fame, which causes us sometimes to dye immaturely by watchings and study, and so cheerfully undergo hazards, to eternize the memory of our names. Anciently this desire of perpetuation was most vi∣sible in the care to keep the life-less body, even amongst the vul∣gar; and hence the Mummies of the Egyptians and other Nati∣ons remain to this day, after three or four thousand years. At present, through the ignorance of Times, this care is practis'd only amongst great persons; and yet the effect answers very lit∣tle to their intention. For the Chirurgions do not Embalm a man now a days, but only the bones and skin, after they have taken away his principal parts, the heart, liver and brain, which constituted him a man, and not the rest; the cause whereof must be attributed to defect of Invention and means fit to dry up the superfluous humidity which causes the corruption of body; for that alone will keep them which can dry them with the moderation requisite to the preserving of their Colour and Figure.

The Fourth said, There's a resemblance of these Mummies in bodies struck with thunder, which are free from corruption; the Sulphur consuming the humidity, and introducing dry∣ness to resist putrifaction, as Fire, Salt, Vitriol, Nitre, Chalk, Alum, Vinegar, and Aqua-vitae, do by their desiccative and astringing virtue. Some poysons also do the same. As Placen∣tinus reports of a Venetian Lady, who having been poyson'd, her body became so stiff, that it seem'd to be petrifi'd. But the particular temper of every place is of great moment. They who inhabit the Southern Countries are so dry that their bo∣dies keep intire eight days after death. And they have so little humidity, that 'tis no less a shame amongst them, then of old amongst the Lacedemonians, to spit or blow the Nose.

The Fifth said, That the same natural inclination of men to preserve themselves the longest they can, which heretofore in∣stigated them to erect proud Mausolaeum's, Pyramids and Mar∣bles, for eternizing their memory; put them also upon the in∣vention of Embalming their bodies; which is a refuge after ship∣wreck, a little way after death. But as 'tis a general law that

all things which took their being by generation must lose it by corruption; indeed by some artifice we may retard dissolution for a time; but perfectly to hinder it, is impossible. For Heat determin'd to a certain degree by Cold, is the Agent which mixes the Humid with the Dry, and retains them in that mix∣ture as long as it self remains intire and strong. But if this Heat receive any diminution, either being suffocated and inclos'd, or or else drawn out by a greater Heat of the Air encompassing us, (the less Heat alwayes yielding and serving for Aliment to the greater) this natural Heat being thus weakned, presently the Humidity leaves the Dryness, and carries away with it self that little Heat which remain'd; whence this Humidity is heated it self, and excites a stink, and at last vanishing away, the re∣mainder turnes to powder. Wherefore the moistest bodies are most easie to corrupt, excessive humidity more easily ex∣tinguishing the Heat which retain'd it in its duty. And the most solid bodies, as Gold and Silver, corrupt difficultly, because they have very little Humidity; and that little which they have is greatly incorporated and united with the Dryness. But there are two sorts of Humidity; One, excrementitious and also ali∣mentous, which by the least defect of Heat is easily turn'd into putrefaction, because it is not yet united and assimilated to the Body wherein it is found; whence it is that foul Bodies, Trees cut at Full Moon, being full of their sap, and Fruits gather'd be∣fore their maturity, very easily corrupt. The other is an Hu∣midity already assimilated, which links all the parts together; and being substantial, is not so easily corrupted as the other. Wherefore they who would embalm Bodies well, having two Humidities to repress, must make use of several means. The former Humidity must be absum'd by Hot Drugs, amongst which, Wormwood and Scordium hold the first place; experience manifesting the one, and Galen observing that the Bodies of the Graecians slain in a battel, which touch'd Scordium, were found intire many dayes after. The latter Humidity must be preserv'd by Balsames Cold, Dry and penetrating, which may preserve the figure, colour, and consistence in the dead body.

CONFERENCE XXXI.

I. Whether the Life of Man may be prolong'd by Art. II. Whether 'tis better to be without Passion then to moderate them.

I. Whether the Life of a Man may be prolong'd by Art.

THe duration of a motion or action cannot be known, unless the measure of it be known; nor can they be measur'd unless they have known bounds. Whence neither can it be

known whether the Life may be prolong'd, without knowing before-hand how long it lasts. Now 'tis impossible to know this duration. For, not to mention the long lives of the Fathers in the two first thousand years of the world, God told Noah, that the age of Man should be no more then but sixscore years. Moses and David restrain it to seventy or eighty. And yet as there are at this day some who come near a hundred, so there are a hun∣dred times as many who do not attain thirty. And whereas no body can speak of Death by experience, because they who speak of it have not felt it, and they who have felt it cannot speak of it more; the case is the same concerning Life. Let a Man, by good order, or the use of remedies, live as long as he will, it will not be believ'd that his life ha's been prolong'd; but, on the contrary, that his hour was not yet come. Nevertheless 'tis no less consistent with reason, to say, that he who would infallibly have dy'd of a Gangrene which invaded his Legg, and thereby the rest of his Body, hath had his life prolong'd by cut∣ting off his Legg; or that he who was wounded in the crural vein, at which all his blood would have soon issu'd forth, ha's been secur'd from death by the Chirurgion, who stop'd the blood; then to believe, as we do, that a Rope-maker lengthens his rope by adding new stuff to that which was ended; that a Gold-smith makes a chain of Gold longer by fastning new links to it; that a Smith causes his fire to last more by putting fresh coals to it. And as, in all this, there is nothing which crosses our Reason; so if a sick man, who is visibly going to dye, receives help, and escapes, do's he not owe the more glory to God for having not onely cur'd him by the hands of the Physitian, or by spiritual Physick alone, but also prolong'd his Life, as he did to King Hezekias, whose Life was lengthened fifteen years, and of which our age wants not example? If it be objected that this may hold in violent deaths, whereof the causes may be avoided, but that 'tis not credible that a decrepit old man, who hath spun out his Life to the last, can continue it; the nature and Etymology of the radical moisture not admitting a possibility of restauration; I answer, that reasons taken from the original of words, are not the strongest; and that besides there are roots which endure more, and others less, according as they are well or ill cultivated. And if the reason drawn from contraries be considerable, being many poysons are so quick that they corrupt the radical moisture in an instant, ought we to conceive Nature so much a step-dame as that she hath not produc'd something proper to restore it? And that Humane Industry is so dull and little industrious in the thing which Man desires most, which is long Life, that it cannot reach to prepare some matter for the support, yea, for the restauration of that Original Humidity? Considering that we are not reduc'd to live onely by what is about us, as Plants and Plant-animals do, but all the world is open and accessible to our search of Aliments and Medicines.

Moreover, we have examples not onely of a Nestor who liv'd three ages; of an Artephius who liv'd as many, and many more; and the Herb Moly, the Nectar and Ambrosia of the Poets, which kept their gods from growing old, may well be taken for a figure of the Tree of Life, which was design'd for separation of this Humidity, but also of compositions proper to produce that effect. Yea, were it not actually so, yet 'tis not less possible; and God hath not in vain promis'd as a Reward to such as honour their Superiors, to prolong their dayes upon the earth.

The Second said, If Medaea found Herbs, as the Poets say, to lengthen the Life of Aeson the Father of Jason, the Daughters of Aelias miscarried of their purpose. Indeed every thing that lives needs Heat for exercising its Actions, and Humidity to sustain that Heat; the duration of this Heat in the Humidity is Life, which lasts as long as the one is maintain'd by the other; like the lighted wiek in a Lamp. Now Nature dispenses to every one from the Birth as much of this Heat and Moisture as she pleases, to one for fifty, to another for sixty, seventy, eighty years or more; which ended, the stock is spent. Physick may husband it well, but cannot produce it anew; Aliments never repair it perfectly, no more then Water doth Wine, which it increases indeed, but weakens too, when mingled there∣with.

The Third back'd this Suffrage with the opinion of Pythagoras, who held that our Life is a strait line; that the accidents which disturb it, and at length bring Death, constitute another; and accordingly (saith he) as these two lines incline less or much towards one another, Life is long or short; because the Angle of their incidence, and at which they cut, which is our Death, happens sooner or later; and it would never happen, if these two lines were parallel. Now the meeting of these two lines can∣not be deferr'd or put off.

The Fourth said, 'Twere a strange thing if Humane Art could repair all other defects of the Body and Mind, excepting that whereof there is most need, and all Ages have complain'd, Brevity of Life. For our Understanding hath much less need of an Art of Reasoning, our tongue of an Art of speaking, our legs of dancing, then our Life of being continu'd, since 'tis the foundation of all the rest. Besides, Physick would seem useless without this. For though it serv'd only to asswage the pains of diseases, (which is a ridiculous opinion) yet it would thereby protract the time of Death, to which pain is the way.

The Fifth said, That for the preservation of Life, 'tis requi∣site to continue the marriage of Heat and moisture, Death al∣wayes hapning immediately upon their disjunction, and leaving the contrary qualities in their room, Cold and Dryness. Now to know how Heat must be preserv'd, we must observe how 'tis destroy'd. And that is four wayes I. By Cold, which being moderate, fights with it; but violent, wholly destroyes it.

II. By suffocation, or smothering, when the Pores are stop'd, and the issue of fuliginous vapours hindred: Thus Fire dyes for want of Air. III. By its dissipation, which is caus'd by hot medicaments, violent exercise, and immoderate heat of the Sun or Fire: Whence proceeds a Syncope or Deliquium of the Heart. IV. By want of Aliment, without which it can no more last a moment, then Fire without wood or other combustible matter. All agree that the three first Causes may be avoided, or at least remedied. And as for the Fourth, which is doubled of, I see nothing that hinders but that as the spirits of our bodies are per∣fectly repair'd by the Air we incessantly breathe; so Aliments, or some Specificks, as, as amongst others, Gold dissolv'd in some water not corrosive, may in some manner restore the fewel of our Heat. And seeing there are found burning Mountains, in which the Fire cannot consume so much matter apt for burn∣ing, but it alwayes affords it selfother new, which makes it sub∣sist for many Ages: Why may not a matter be prepar'd for our Natural Heat, which though not neer so perfect as that which it consum'd, (for were it so, an Animal would be immortal) yet may be more excellent then ordinary Aliments, and by this means prolong our Lives. And this must be sought after, not judg'd impossible.

The Sixth said, That Life consisting in the Harmony and pro∣portion of the four first qualities, and in the contemperation of the four Humours; there's no more requir'd for the prolonging of Life, but to continue this Harmony. Which may be done, not onely by a good natural temper, but also by the right use of external things; as pure Air, places healthful and exposed to the Eastern winds, Aliments of good juice, sleep sufficiently long, exercises not violent, passions well rul'd, and the other things; whose due administration must prolong Life by the same reason that their abuse or indiscreet usage diminishes it.

The Seventh said, That Life consists in the salt which con∣tains the Spirit that quickens it, and is the preservative Balsame of all compounds. The vivifying Spirit of Man is inclos'd in a very volatile Armoniack Salt, which exhales easily by Heat, and therefore needs incessant reparation by Aliments. Now to pre∣serve Life long, it is requsite to fix this volatile salt; which is done by means of another salt extracted by Chymistry, which is not onely fix'd, but also capable to fix the most volatile. For the Chymists represent this salt incorruptible in it self, and com∣municating its virtue to other bodies: Upon which account they stile it Quintessence, Aethereal Body, Elixir, and Radical Balsame, which hath a propriety to preserve not onely living bodies many Ages, but dead, from corruption.

II. Whether 'tis better to be without Passions then to moderate them.

Upon the Second Point, it was said, Tranquility of Mind, the scope and end of Moral Philosophy, is of three sorts. The I. is call'd Alaraxic, and is in the Understanding, whose judgement it

suspends, and is not mov'd with any thing; which was the end of the Scepticks. The II. is in the Reason, which regulates the Passions of the Sensitive Appetite, and is term'd Metriopathy, or moderation of the Passions. The III. is the Apathy of the Sto∣icks, in which they constituted their supreme Good; which is an Insensibility, Indolence, and want of Passions, attributed by the envious to a Melancholy Humour, or to Ambition and Cyni∣call Hypocrisie. For the Melancholy Man seeking solitude as the Aliment of his Phancy, and the Element of his black Hu∣mour, (which is the step-dame of Virtues) by thinking to avoid external Passions, remains under the Tyranny of internal, which he dares not vent, but covers like Fire under ashes. This mask'd Sect shuts the fore-door indeed to the Passions, but opens the postern. They passionately desire to shew themselves with∣out Passion. And their vanity appears in that they affect to ap∣pear unlike the rest of Men, by casting off humane sentiments and affections, as Charity and Compassion, which they account vitious. But instead of raising themselves above Men, they degrade themselves below beasts, by depriving themselves of the indifferent actions which are common to us with them: Actions which Reason ought to regulate indeed, but not wholly reject. And as the supreme Region of the Air receives Exhalations to inflame them, and make shining Comets, but is free from Hail, Thunder, Winds, Rains, and other Meteors which are made in the Middle Region; so Reason ought to receive the notices of the Sensitive Appetite which are called Passions, to make use of them; but 'tis to moderate them, and hinder the disorder caus'd by them in the Sensitive Appetite, which is the Middle Faculty of the Soul. In fine, as Eagles and Dolphins, which are in the tempests of the Winds and Sea, are yet more to be esteem'd then Moles, Wormes, and other creeping things which live in holes; so he who is agitated with Passions much surpas∣ses him who hath none at all. Nor is there any body but desires rather to be froward then stupid and insensible. And if Insensi∣bility be a Virtue, then stocks and stones and inanimate bodies would be more happy then we.

The Second said, Since Passion is an irregular motion of the Sensitive Appetite, call'd therefore Perturbation, it alters the state of the Soul: Whence Anger and Fear hinder us from per∣ceiving what is visible, and Hatred or Love pervert the Judge∣ment; for which reason we desire that a good Judge be without Passion. What a disease is to the Body, whose actions it hurt∣eth, that are the Passions to the Soul. Wherefore to ask whe∣ther the Soul is happiest without Passion, is to question whether the Body is most at ease without sickness; and, to moderate in∣stead of extirpating them, is to palliate a disease instead of cu∣ring it; and to inquire of a Pilot whether a Tempest be more proper for Navigation then a Calm. Moreover, the happiest condition of Man is that which comes nearest Eternal Bliss, in

which we shall have no Passions; the superior and rational part having subdu'd the inferior or sensitive. And Aristotle holds, that the Heroes or Demi-gods are exempted from them.

The Third said, 'Tis to derogate from our Senses, to say, with the Stoicks, that the Passions which we feele proceed onely from the depravation of our judgements. For what they call diseases of the Mind, is meant of those which are inordi∣nate, and not of those which are moderate and fram'd by the level of Reason. 'Tis therefore expedient to moderate, them, but not wholly extinguish them, though it were possible. Now that it is impossible, appears, because they are appurtenances of our Nature, and the actions of the Sensitive Faculty, which is part of our selves. And our Lord not having renounc'd these appendances of our Humanity, hath thereby manifested that they are not vicious. Besides, the first motions are not in our power, and therefore 'tis impossible totally to extirpate them. But though we could, we ought not, because they are altogether necessary; as appears in that, I. Without the Passions there would be no Virtues, for the Passions are the Objects of Virtues; Thus Temperance moderates Pleasure and Pain, Fortitude re∣gulates Boldness and Fear. II. They sharpen them. Thus Anger serves to heighten Courage, and Fear augments Pru∣dence. III. They preserve an Animal. Thus Pleasure incites Animals to feed and generate, and Grief makes them avoid what is noxious, and recur to remedies, even in spiritual di∣stempers; in which to be insensible of Grief is to be desperate.

The Fourth said, If Men were void of Passions, they might be lead to Virtue with much more success and less trouble. For they would not be averted from it by the contrary motions of their Passions, which hurry them with so great violence, that all that the most virtuous endeavour to do, is, to swim against the Torrent, and repress its impetuous course: Upon which they unfruitfully spend their time, which might be farr better employ'd in performing virtuous actions, when the rebated Passions (introducing an agreeable evenness in their Humours, with a firm Constancy in their Manners, accompany'd with a laud∣able indifference in their Desires) would allow reason more means to incite them to the exercise of Virtues. For Men having their Eyes unvail'd of the sundry affections which blind them, would more perfectly know the True Good, and consequently pursue it by a shorter and surer way. And though they were not lead to Sensible Good with so much ardour, nor decline Evil with so much horrour, yet they would do both with more reason. So that, what Men do now by a motion of the Sensitive Appetite, they would do then by a principle of Virtue. For the difficulty found in attaining a total privation of Passions seemes indeed to surpass our strength, yet thereby sets forth the excellence of the Atchievement.

The Fifth said, He that were exempt from all Passions, would

be as unhappy as he that should always endeavour to bridle them. But the former is impossible, and the latter no less diffi∣cult then to walk upon a rope, where the least false step pro∣cures a dangerous fall. For we quit our passions, but they quit not us; as the thought of young maidens follow'd a good fa∣ther even into his Hermitage. And he that goes about to tame them, is the true Sisyphus, upon whom the stone which he thrusts away incessantly revolves. The first would be without joy, without which nevertheless a man cannot be happy. The second would be without rest, because he would be in perpetu∣al combat and inquietude, wherewith felicity cannot consist. I conceive therefore (morally speaking) there's more felicity in gently giving the bridle to one's passions, and following his in∣clinations: although this opinion may well consist with Christi∣an Philosophy in good-natur'd persons, or such as have acquir'd a good temper by good examples, who may innocently follow their inclination, because it will lead them only to vertuous, or, at least, indifferent things. And for the vicious, 'tis cer∣tain the evil which they do not by reason of the repugnance which they have to it, and the fear of punishment, cannot be imputed to them for vertue, nor consequently make them happy.

CONFERENCE XXXII.

I. Sympathie and Antipathy. II. Whether Love descending is stronger then ascending.

I. Of Sympathy and Antipa∣thy.

WHat a Father once said, That the first, second, and third Point of Christian Philosophy was humility (meaning that it all referr'd thereunto) the same may be said of Sympathy and Antipathy, which is the Similitude or Contrariety of Af∣fections. For the generation and corruption of all things is to be referr'd to them. The sympathy of the simple qualities, and the Elements wherein they are found, are causes of the temperament of mixt bodies, as the antipathy is of their disso∣lution. 'Tis they who unite and dis-unite those compound bo∣dies, and by approximating or removing them one from ano∣ther cause all their motions and actions. When these causes are apparent to us, and may be probably imputed to qualities, we recur to them as the most easie, general and common. But when we find bodies, whose qualities seem alike to us, and ne∣vertheless they have very different effects, we are then con∣strain'd to seek the cause thereof elsewhere; and finding none, we call it an Occult Propriety, whose two daughters are Sym∣pathy and Antipathy. For Man, being a reasonable creature, is

desirous to know the reason of every thing; and when he can∣not attain to it he becomes as much tormented as a Judge whose Jurisdiction is retrench'd: and this through want of ap∣prehending that what he knows hath no other proportion to what he ignores, then finite, yea very little, hath to infinite. And being unable to find the true reason of an infinite number of effects which ravish him with admiration, yet resolving to have some one, he feigns one under these names of Sympathy and Antipathy; those two Hocus Pocus's, to which he refers the cause why Corral stays bleeding, Amber draws straw, the Load∣stone Iron, which the Theamede rejects; why the Star-stone moves in Vinegar, the Cole-wort is an enemy to the Vines, Garlick a friend to the Rose and Lilly, increasing one the others' odour; why a man's fasting-spittle kills the Viper, why Eeles drown'd in Wine make the drinker thenceforward hate it; why Betony strengthens the Brain, Succhory is proper to the Liver, Bezoar a friend to the Heart; and infinite others. But because general causes do not satisfie us no more then De∣finitions whose Genuses are remote, and the Differences com∣mon, it seems we are oblig'd to a particular inquisition of their causes.

The Second said, The Subjects in which Sympathies and Antipathies are found must be distinguish'd, in order to assign their true causes. For in things alike, we may refer their effects to the similitude of their substances and accidents. Thus the Lungs of a Fox are useful to such as are Phthisical; the inte∣stine of a Wolf is good for the Colick; Eye-bright for the Eye, Solomons's-Seal for the Rupture, the black decoction of Sena for Melancholy, yellow Rhubarb for choler, white Agaric for Flegm. Yet 'tis not requisite that this resemblance be total; for then a man's Lungs should rather be serviceable to the Phthi∣sical, then that of a Fox, and the Load-stone should rather draw a Load-then Iron, which yet do's not hold, because there's no action between things perfectly alike. Antipathy also arises from the contrariety of Forms, their qualities and other acci∣dents. Now we are much puzzl'd to assign the causes of this Sympathy and Antipathy in things which have nothing either of likeness or contrariety: as when I see two unknown men play at Tennis, the one with as good a grace as the other, I have a kind of desire that one may rather win then the other. Is it not rather chance which causes this? Our will, though free, be∣ing always oblig'd to tend this way or that way, and cannot chuse the worst; or else, all things being made by weight, num∣ber and measure, those affect one another most who have the same proportion in their composition; or who had the same configuration of heaven at their birth. Or every thing natur∣ally affecting to become perfect seeks this perfection in all the subjects which it meets; and when the same disposition is found in two several bodies or minds, if they would arrive at that per∣fection

by one and the same way, this meeting serves for the means of union, which is our sympathy; and their different dis∣position or way, the contrary.

The Third, amongst sundry examples of Antipathy, said, That if we believe Apuleius, the Look-glassing us'd by an inconti∣nent woman spoils the visage of a chast; that it is manifest be∣tween the horse and the Camel, the Elephant and the Swine, the Lyon and the Cock, the Bull and the Fig-tree, the Adder and a naked man, the Ape and the Tortois, the Serpent and the shadow of the Ash. For that which is observ'd amongst Animals who devour and serve for food to one another, as the Wolf and the Sheep, the Kite and the Chicken; or amongst those who always offend and hurt one the other, as Man and the Serpent, deserve rather the name of Enmity, whereof the causes are manifest. But, to speak truth, all these effects are no more known to us then their causes are unknown. He who endu'd them with Formes having annex'd Proprieties thereunto, both the one and the other, impenetrable to hu∣mane wit.

The Fourth said, That for a lasting order amongst the crea∣tures, it was requisite that every one were naturally lead to its own preservation by adhering to what was conducible thereun∣to, and eschewing the contrary. Now, to do this, they needed instruments whereby to act, which are their qualities, either manifest (which proceed from the Temperament, and are either First, or Second, or else occult (which proceed from every form and substance) to which the Sympathies and Antipathies, cor∣respondences and contrarieties of all natural, Bodies ought to be referr'd, from whence issue some spirits bearing the character and idea of the form from which they flow. These spirits be∣ing carried through the air (just as odours are) if their forces and vertues be contrary, they destroy one another: which is call'd Antipathy. If the same be friendly, they unite and joyn together, the stronger attracting the weaker. Hence Iron doth not attract the Load-stone, but the Load-stone Iron. So when a Wolf sees a man first, the man loses his voyce, or, at least, be∣comes hoarse; because venomous spirits issue out the Wolfe's eyes, which being contrary to those which issue out of the man, inclose the same, and by hindring them to flow forth hinder them from forming the voyce. But when the man spies the Wolf first, his effluvia being foreseen hurt less, and have less power upon him, because the man encourages himself against them.

The Fifth said, 'Tis more fit to admire these secret motions, (which depend only on the good pleasure of Nature, who alone knows wherein consists the proportion & correspondence which makes bodies symbolize one with another) then to seek the true cause of them unprofitably. And Aristotle himself confesses that he knew not whereunto to refer the Antipathy which is be∣tween

the Wolf and the Sheep, so strange, that even after their deaths, the strings of Instruments made of their guts never agree together: as the feathers of the Eagle consume those of other Birds. Likewise, the subtile Scaliger, after much time unprofitably spent, acknowledges that he understands it not. They who go about to give reasons of it are not less ignorant, but more vain then others.

The Sixth said, Words are frequently abus'd; as for exam∣ple, when 'tis attributed to Antipathy, that the Dog runs after the Hare; whereas 'tis for the pleasure that he takes in his smel∣ling, which is an effect of Sympathy. But they who refer al∣most every thing to Occult Proprieties are like the Country∣man, who not seeing the springs of a Watch thinks it moves by an occult vertue; or who being ask'd, why it thunders, answers, simply, because it pleases God. Wherefore instead of imitating the ignorant vulgar (who are contented to admire an Eclipse, without seeking the cause) the difficulty ought to inflame our desire; as we use more care and diligence to discover a hidden treasure; nothing seeming impossible to the Sagacious wits of these times.

The Seventh said, That, according to Plato, the reason of Sympathies and Antipathies is taken from the correspondence and congruity, or from the disproportion which inferior bodies have with the superiour, which according as they are more or less in terrestrial bodies, and according to the various manner of their being so, the same have more or less sympathy. For as in∣ferior things take their source from above, so they have one to the other here below the same correspondence which is common to them with the celestial bodies: according to the Axiom, that things which agree in one third, agree also among themselves. Thus, amongst stones, those which are call'd Helites and Selenites (Sun-stone, and Moon-stone) are luminous, because they par∣take of the rayes of those Luminaries; and the Helioselene imi∣tates by its figure the Conjunction of the Sun and Moon. Amongst Plants, the Lote or Nettle-tree, the Mari-gold and the Heliotrope or Sun-flower, follow the motion of the Sun. Amongst Solar Animals, the Cock and the Lyon are the most noble; and the Cock more then the Lyon; he alwayes gives applauses to the Sun when he perceives him approach¦ing our Horizon or Zenith. Whereupon the Lyon fears and respects him: because things which are inferior to others in one and the same degree, yield to them, though they surpass them in strength and bigness; as the arms which fury hath put into the hands of a mutinous multitude, fall out of them at the presence of some man of respect and authority, though they be a thousand against one.

II. Whether Love descen∣ding be stronger then ascending.

Upon the second Point it was said, Although this be a com∣mon saying, and it seems that Love ought rather to descend

then ascend, yea that Fathers are oblig'd to love their children even with the hatred of themselves; yet I conceive that the love of children towards their fathers surpasses that of fathers to∣wards their children; inasmuch as the latter proceeds from the love which the fathers bear to themselves, being desirous to have support and assistance from those whom they bring into the world, and in them to perpetuate their names, honours, estates, and part of themselves. But the love of children to Fathers is pure and dis-interested; as may be observ'd in many who, ha∣ving no hope of a patrimony, love and honour their parents with most respectful kindness. Moreover, the supream autho∣rity and absolute power of life and death, which the Ro∣mans and our ancient Gaules frequently us'd against their chil∣dren, shows their little affection. For, not to speak of those Nations who sacrific'd theirs to false gods, nor of Manlius, Mi∣thridates, Philip II. King of Spain, and infinite others, who put them to death; Fathers anciently held them of worse conditi∣on then their slaves. For a slave once sold never return'd more into the Seller's power; whereas a son sold and set at liberty re∣turn'd thrice into the power of his Father. As also at this day, in Moscovia, Russia, and particularly in Cyprus, Rhodes, and Can∣dia, where 'tis an ordinary thing for fathers to sell their sons to marry their daughter, which made Augustus say, having heard that Herod had kill'd his own son, that it was better to be the Swine then son of a Jew. But Patricide was unknown to anci∣ent Legislators; and Lycurgus never ordain'd any punishment against such criminals, not imagining that such a crime could come into the mind of a lawful child, whom the Persians con∣ceiv'd to declare himself a bastard by such an action. For that foolish custom which reign'd some time at Rome of precipitating men of sixty years old from the bridge into Tyber, is no sign of the cruelty of children towards their fathers, since they imagin'd that they did an act of piety and religion therein, by delivering them from the miseries of this life.

The Second said, None can know how great a love a father bears his children, but he that hath been a Father. Paternal tenderness is so vehement that all the passions and affections of the soul give place to it. Prudence and Philosophy may preach to us restraint and moderation; but a father's love, admitting no rule, caus'd a King of Sparta to run with a stick between his legs, a Grand Cosmo to whip a top, and the wisest of all the Grecians to play at Cob-nut, to make pastime to their children: experiences sufficient to gain the cause to paternal love, though it were not back'd by these reasons. 1. That love being the is∣sue of knowledge, the more there is of knowledge the more there is of love. Therefore fathers having more knowledge then their children, have also more love. 2. As man desires nothing so much as immortality, so he loves that thing especi∣ally which procures the same to him; and hating death more

then any thing in the world, extreamly loves what seems to keep him from dying, as his children do, in whom he seems to revive. Whence also the Pelican feeds its young at the expence of its own blood. On the contrary, Man being the most am∣bitious of all creatures, hates nothing so much as to see himself subjected to another. Wherefore children, that the benefits which they receive from their fathers may oblige them to grati∣tude and subjections they perform the same indeed, but with much less love then their fathers. 3. God ha's given no com∣mandment to fathers to love their children, knowing that they lov'd them but too much; but he hath to children, to love and honour their fathers, as having need to be invited thereunto even by promise of reward. 4. We naturally love that which proceeds from us, be it the most imperfect in the world. The Workman loves his work more then that loves him; as the Creator loves his creature better then he is lov'd by it. More∣over, we find in Scripture fathers who desir'd and obtain'd the raising of their children from the dead, but no child that pray'd God to raise his father; yea, one that desir'd leave to go and bury his. To conclude, our will is carri'd to an object by the opinion, true or false, which it conceives of it; and accord∣ingly we see that a man's only believing himself to be a father in∣spires this paternal love into him, though he be not.

The Third said, In this sweet debate between fathers and children, I conceive the former ought to yield to the latter, as in all other cases the latter to the former. And as the whole goes not to seek its part, but the part its whole; so the child, who is part of his father, loves him more tenderly, and is more willingly lead towards him then the father towards his child. If fathers love their children because they resemble them, the re∣semblance is common to both, and so children shall love them as much for the same reason. And the being which fathers give their children is as much an effect of the love which they bear to themselves as of that which they bear to their children. In∣deed, if love be a fire (as the Poets say) it must, according to its natural motion, rather ascend then descend; and if, in hu∣mane love, the lover is less perfect then the loved, the child who hath less perfection then the father, must be the lover, and the father the subject of his love. And this the examples of Fi∣lial love sufficiently manifest. For not to speak of Aeneas who sav'd his father from the fire and sack of Troy, nor of Amphino∣mus and Anapias who went to draw theirs out of the midst of Aetna's flames; nor of Cimon the son of Miltiades who sold his liberty to redeem the dead body of his father (which was re∣tain'd for debts) and to give it an honourable burial; nor of Athamanes King of Crete, who voluntarily brought death upon himself that he might prolong his fathers life, according to the answer of the Oracle; Appius alone decides the question. He had the choice of leaving either his father or his own family in

evident danger, he chose rather to be a good son then a good father and husband, abandoning his wife and children to the proscription of the Triumvirate, that he might secure his father from it.

The Fourth said, It seems that Filial love is rather a payment of a debt, an acknowledgement of a benefit, and shunning of ingratitude, then a free and natural affection, such as that of the father is. Besides, he who gives loves more then he who receives. Yea it seems that he who began to do good is oblig'd to continue it, that his work be not imperfect. Now fathers give not only being, which nevertheless is the foundation of well-being, but also usually education, and their riches acquir'd by their labours; induc'd so to do by the sole consideration of honesty, upon which their love being grounded is much more noble and admirable then that of children, which is common∣ly establish'd upon the profit which they receive from their fathers.

The Fifth said, 'Tis not so much the being a father or a son that causes the amity, as the being a good father or good son: otherwise all fathers should love their children in the same man∣ner, and all children their fathers; which do's not hold. Na∣ture casts the seeds of it, co-habitation cultivates it, custom cherishes it, example fashions it, but above all, compassion en∣forces it. Thus fathers, seeing the weakness of their children ha's need of their aid, love them the more. And for this rea∣son Grand-fathers love their Nephews more tenderly then their own children. And when fathers through sicknesses or decrepit age become objects of compassion to their children, their kind∣ness is redoubled; bur 'tis not usually so strong as that of fathers towards them.

CONFERENCE XXXIII.

I. Of those that walk in their sleep. II. Which is the most excellent Moral Virtue.

I. Of those that walk in sleep.

SLeep-walkers, call'd by the Greeks Hypnobatae, are such, as, rising out of their beds in the night, walk about in their sleep, and do the same things as if they were awake; then re∣turn to bed again, and think not that they were out of it unless in a dream. This affection is rank'd under the symptomes of the animal faculty, and particularly of the common sense; and though it be not a disease, yet it seems in some sort to be against nature. For since men sleep for the resting of their senses and motion, and wake to exercise the same, whatever hinders and alters the one or the other, as to move when we should rest, is

against nature. And if it be strange persons remain stupid when they are awake, as Exstaticks do, 'tis no less to see a man in sleep do as much, or more then if he were awake. I ascribe the natural causes hereof, 1. To the Imagination which receives the impression of objects, no less during sleep then waking; yea it represents them to it self much greater then they are; as it hap∣ned to him whose leg being become paralytical in his sleep, he dream'd that he had a leg of stone. Now these species being strong act so powerfully upon the Imagination of the Hypno∣batae, that they constrain them to move and go towards the things represented therein. For though sense be hindred in sleep, yet motion is not, as appears by Respiration, which is al∣ways free; and by infants who stir in their mothers belly though they sleep continually. For the hinder part of the head, desti∣nated to motion, is full of abundance of spirits, especially at the beginning of the Spinal Marrow, where there is a very appa∣rent Cavity which cannot be stop'd by vapours, as the anterior part of the head is, in which the organs of the senses are, which being stop'd by vapours can have no perception during sleep. Wherefore 'tis groundless to say, with Aristotle, that sleep-walkers see as well as if they were awake; for 'tis impossible for one not awake to see, because visible objects make a more lively impres∣sion in their organ then any other; and a man asleep is not distin∣guish'd from another but by cessation of the sense of seeing. For one may Hear, Taste, Smell and Touch, without waking, but not See. 2. The thick and tenacious vapours seising upon the brain, and obstructing its out-lets, contribute much to this effect. For since the smoak of Tobacco is sometimes kept in our bodies two whole days, the same may happen to the gross and viscous vapours rais'd from the humours or aliments▪ 3. The particular constitution of their bodies is of some moment towards it, as an active, hot, dry and robust temper, a great quantity of subtile and brisk spirits, quickness of wit, a habit & custom of doing some acti∣on; as the Postilion who sadled, bridled, and rid his horse, asleep, and after making some careers brought him back to the Stable.

The Second said, Though, according to, Aristotle in the 5. Book of the Generation of Animals, there is some difference between a dream and this affection which causes men to walk in their sleep; because (saith he) a dream is when the sleeper takes that for true which is presented to him, though it be not so. But when one dreams that he is in a place, and is there indeed, and doth really that which he imagines; 'tis rather a vision then a dream. Nevertheless methinks their extraordinary motions may as well be referr'd to dreams as any other motions which are made in sleep, considering that they come from the same cause, are made by the same organs, and differ not but in degree. The one being made by a bare representation of the species, and the other by a strong impression. So that 'tis no more wonder to see a man rise out of his bed, walk, get upon

the ridge of a house, climb a tree, and do other like things without waking; then 'tis so see another dreamer speak in his sleep, laugh, cry, stir his arms and legs; both of them being led thereunto by the same means.

The Third said, He wonder'd not so much to see a man walk in his sleep, considering that 'tis ordinary enough to those which travel, provided they walk in a plain and even way; as Galen records to have hapned to himself, he having gone almost a league in that manner, and not waking till he stumbled at the foot of a tree. But he wonder'd (indeed) how they perform'd their actions better in the night then in the day, and with more courage, and wake not during those violent motions and stir∣rings. The cause whereof is, as I conceive, that being awake they have a Reason which contradicts their Imagination and Appetite, and which having an eye over all their actions, the same are not so sure because they are less free in sleep, at which time the faculties of the Understanding being, as 'twere, con∣sopited, the others are carried towards their objects with more certainty then when they are controll'd and restrain'd by that superior faculty; as we see servants are more brisk in their mo∣tions when they are out of their masters presence. They act al∣so with more boldness, because having no knowledge of the present dangers they do not apprehend the same. Which is ob∣serv'd in fools and children, who do themselves less hurt in dan∣gers because they apprehend them less. Lastly, the cause why they wake not during those great motions, although they swim over rivers, proceeds from the great quantity of those thick and glutinous vapours which stop the pores serving to the commerce of the spirits during the long time that they are dissipating; ac∣cording as 'tis observ'd in drunkards or those that have taken somniferous medicaments, who by reason of the excessive va∣pours of the wine or drugs awake not, whatever be done to them. Whence the melancholy temper is most prone to this affection; because black choler which hath the consistence of pitch, sends its gross vapours up to the brain, and they are the most difficult to be resolv'd.

The Fourth said, If men left themselves to be conducted by their natural inclination without making so many reviews and reflections upon what they do, their actions would be much bet∣ter and surer. For as where two Masters are, neither is obey'd; so both the superior and inferior appetite striving to command in man, neither the one nor the other is perfectly master. Be∣sides, 'tis an establish'd order of nature, that things which have most proprieties and faculties have less certainty; those which have most certainty have fewest proprieties. Thus the Swallow makes its nest with more certainty then the Architect doth a house. The Vine more assuredly makes the Grape then the Swallow its nest; the stone more infallibly descends towards its centre then the Vine-makes the Grape; because a stone hath

only the first step of being; the Vine besides hath a Vegetative being, and the Swallow a Sensitive; but Man, who besides all these degrees hath Reason, endeavours to make use of all these several Utensils, and consequently makes use of none imper∣fection; as he who is skill'd in sundry Crafts discharges not any so well as he who addicts himself but to one. Now whilst a man is awake, the variety of objects and of the powers which are mov'd in him hinder him from performing so perfect an acti∣on; as when all the other faculties are bound up by sleep, the sensitive alone remains mistress.

The Fifth said, As there is but one straight line, and infinite crooked, so there is but one right manner of acting, and infinite oblique. The right line is, that a man perform all his animal functions only awake, the vital and natural as well asleep as awake. Deviation from this rule happens a thousand several ways. One is asleep when he should wake, another is unquiet when he should sleep. In a third, inquietudes are only in the spirits, the body remaining asleep. In some both the spirits and the body are agitated, only the judgement and reason are bound up. Some Morbifick causes go so far as to inflame the spirits, whence comes the Ephemera; others more vehement alter and corrupt the humours, whence the diversity of Fevers, and amongst them, Phrensies, in which you see bodies scarce able to turn in the bed, cast themselves out at a window, run through the streets, and hard to be restrain'd by the strongest. So great a force hath the soul when she gets the head of Reason, which serv'd as Bit and Cavesson to her. Indeed if Naturalists say true, that a spirit is able to move not only a Celestial Sphere, but the whole world it self, were it not restrain'd by a greater power; 'tis no wonder if the same spirit have a great power over a body which it informs, when it hath shaken off the do∣minion of Reason, as it happens in sleep-walkers.

The Sixth said, 'Tis probable that the more causes contribute to one and the same effect, the more perfectly it is done. Man being awake, hath not only the action of all his parts, but that of all his senses strengthned by the concourse of spirits renders his parts much more strong and vigorous then when his is asleep. Reason assisted by daily experience avoucheth that he acts bet∣ter waking then sleeping: and yet we see the contrary in the persons under consideration. Wherefore their agitation cannot be attributed to the soul alone which informs the body, but to some spirit good or bad, whether such as they call aerial Hob-go∣blins, or others; which insinuating into the body, as into a ship whose Pilot is asleep, governs and guides it at pleasure; and as a thing abandon'd to the first occupant, carries it where it lists, and then returns it to its former place. Witness the man mention'd by Levinus Lemnius, who walk'd with his feet against the Rafters, and his head downward, in his sleep: the cause of which cannot, with likelihood, be attributed to our spirits how light and aerial soever they may be.

II. Which is the most excellent Moral Virtue

Upon the Second Point it was said, That they who speak best in all professions, do not act alwayes so; saying and doing seem to be so balanc'd, that the one cannot be lifted high without depressing the other. Which was the cause that the Architect who spoke wonders was pass'd by, and he chosen who onely said that he would do what the other had spoken. Hence it is we so often desire that things could speak of themselves. Justice would come in another garb then as she is painted, blind-fold, with her scales and sword. Fortitude would display other effects then that pillar which she is made to carry upon her shoulder; and Temperance other examples then that of pouring Wa∣ter into her Wine. Prudence would have other attire and al∣lurements then those which her Looking-glasse represents. In brief, the whole train and Court of the four Cardinal Virtues, Magnificence, Liberality, Patience, Humility, Obedience, Friendship, and all the other Moral Virtues, would set forth all their attractives, and make it confess'd that they are all charm∣ing and so link'd together, that who so would be happy must be possess'd of them all. But since I am oblig'd to give the prehe∣minence to one, I shall prefer Liberality, which wears the Epithete of Royal, and is the aptest to win the hearts of all the world.

The Second said, All the Virtues here in question touching their preheminences, accepting you for Judges of their Contro∣versie, in hope you will do them Justice, seem already to con∣demn themselves, by giving their voice implicitely to Justice, whom they implore as their Sovereign. Moreover, in the Scrip∣ture the name alone of Justice comprehends all the other Virtues, and he is term'd Just who is possess'd of them all. Aristotle stiles it, All Virtue, and saith, with his Master Plato, that 'tis more bright and admirable then the Day-star. Tis the more excellent, for that it especially considers the good of others, and not its own particular. For 'tis defin'd, and a constant stedfast will of rendring to every one that which belongs to him; not that 'tis the Will, which is a Faculty, and being capable of contraries, can do well and ill; but because 'tis the noblest habit of this Faculty, there∣fore it retains its name. So the most excellent habit of the Un∣derstanding, whereby to know the first Principles, is call'd Intel∣lect. Pythagoras compares Justice to the number of Eight. For as this is the most perfect number, and hath most equality, all its parts being equal; so Justice is the perfectest of all Virtues, because it gives them their equality and measure in which their perfection consists. And like as the most perfect state of our Health consists in the perfect equality of our Humours, which for this reason is call'd, the temperament according to Justice; so the most perfect state of the Soul consists in this habit which gives equality and mediocrity to all our virtuous actions. But though Justice be the ornament of Virtues, yet it is parti∣cularly

so of Kings, and therefore ours, among all the Virtues whereof he hath taken possession, ha's particularly reserv'd to himself the title of JƲST.

The Third said, I account Prudence not onely the most ex∣cellent but the sole Virtue; yea, the condition without which all other Virtues lose their name. The Philosophers were not contented to establish it for one of the Cardinal Virtues, they make it the salt which preserves and gives taste to all the rest, without which they would be disagreeable, yea, odious to all the world. For too exact Justice carries the name of highest Injustice; Fortitude becomes Violence, and Temperance ap∣plies it self ill, without Prudence. Hence it hath chosen for its Object Reason alone, which it divides to the other Virtues. So that a Man who do's all his actions, having Reason alone for his guide, shall be call'd prudent; but other Virtues do not regard reason further then as it leads them to a particular thing. Now when Reason renders to every one what pertains to him, this Prudence is call'd Justice: When the same Reason moderates the Passions, this Prudence is called Temperance; and when it passes above all dangers, 'tis called Fortitude. So that the Ob∣jects of the three other Virtues being good, onely as they par∣take of that of Prudence, this must be without compari∣son the most excellent. The Ancients for this purpose re∣presented it by an Eye, to shew that this Virtue hath the same preheminence over the rest, which the Eye hath among the parts of the Body.

The Fourth said, If place makes any thing for the nobleness of Virtues, Prudence will have the advantage, since it resides in the noblest Faculty of Man, the Understanding. But if we regard the end of Moral Virtues, which is civil felicity, and from whence alone their nobleness is to be measur'd, as the means by their end; tis certain that an honest Friendship founded upon Virtue is the most noble, because more proper then any other to procure that felicity, yea, alone sufficient to obtain it. For if all were perfect Friends, Justice would not be needful, none denying to another what belong'd to him; and if all were just, there would be no necessity of using force. Moreover, of all the Virtues, there's none but Amity alone which hath no Excess; this shews that it is wholly excellent. How much ought we to love? infinitely if it be possible. Justice hath an excess, which is severity; but because it follows it in dignity, 'tis no Vice. Pru∣dence, Temperance, and the other Virtues which come after, have their vicious excesses. This Virtue of Friendship is the most rare, being found onely amongst good people, who are so few, that all Antiquity scarce affords ten couple of perfect Friends. A scarcity which attests its value. For we must beware of com∣prizing under the name of this Friendship the Passion of Love, or profitable and delightful Friendship, which have nothing of it besides the name. Because true Friendship considers onely

another, but the other virtues have onely self-reflections, though they make shew otherwise.

CONFERENCE XXXIV.

I. Of Lycanthropy. II. Of the way to acquire Nobility.

I. Of Lycan∣thropy.

THere is a sort of Wolves call'd by the Greeks Monolyci, and by Aristotle, Monopiri, that is to say, solitary, never preying but alone, great lovers of Man's Blood; we call them Garoux, possibly because they wander and roame about the fields, as the Greeks name those Lycanthropi who are possess'd with that kind of Madness which makes them do the same as if they were Wolves indeed. Such is that people of Livonia, which, as Olaus in his Northern History relates, change themselves into Wolves, and on Christ-mass day exercise many cruelties even upon little children; and those who, in our time, confess that they have put on the shapes of Wolves, Lyons, Dogs, and other Animals, that they might exercise their cruelty upon Men with impunity. For I am not of their mind who think such transforma∣tion is made by natural causes. To which neither can that be at∣tributed, which the Scripture relates of Nebuchadonozor K. of Baby∣lon, who became an Ox, and ate the grass of the field for the space of nine years, and afterwards resum'd his former shape; that the rods of the Aegyptian Magicians were turn'd into Serpents, as well as that of Moses; that Lot's Wife was chang'd into a Statue of Salt; no more then the most fabulous metamorphoses of Niobe into stone, Lycaon, Demarchus, and Moeris, into Wolves; the companions of Ʋlysses into sundry Animals by the Enchan∣tress Circe, those of Diomedes into Birds, Apuleius into an Ass; that an Aegyptian Lady became a Mare, and was restor'd into her former shape by S. Macarius the Hermite, as the Historian Vincent reports in his 18. Book. Seeing a Rational Soul can not naturally animate the Body of a Wolf. The least distemper of our Brain suffices to hinder the Soul from exercising its fun∣ctions, and can it exercise them in that of a Beast? 'Tis more credible that some evil Spirit supplies the place, and acts the part of the Sorcerer who is soundly asleep in his Bed, or in some other place apart from the commerce of Men. As it happen'd to the Father of Praestantius, mention'd by St. Augustine in his Book, De Civitate Dei, who awaking out of a long and deep sleep, imagin'd himself to have been turn'd into a Horse, and carry'd provisions upon his back to Soulders; which he obsti∣nately believ'd, though his Son assur'd him that he had not stirr'd out of bed. Nevertheless the thing was verifi'd by witnesses; but it was done by an evil Spirit, who on the one side personated

him abroad, and on the other so strongly impressed those species upon his Phancy, that he could not be disswaded from the error. For otherwise, how should the Sorcerer reduce his Body into so small a volumn as the form of a Rat, Mouse, Toad, and other such Animals into which it sometimes is turn'd. Now if it happens that the wound which the Devil receives under that form, is found upon the same part of the Sorcerers Body; this may be attributed to the action of the same evil Spirit, who can easily leave his blow upon such part as he pleases of the Body which he possesses. For want of which possession, all his designes upon those whom he would injure become ineffectual not∣withstanding the imposture of all their waxen Images. But if 'tis the Sorcerer himself that hath the form of a Wolf, either he clothes himself in a Wolf's skin, or else the Devil frames a like Body of Vapours and Exhalations, and other materials (which he knows how to choose and can gather together) with which he in∣volves the Sorcerer's Body, and fits the same in such manner, that the Eye of the Beast answers to that of the Man; and so the other parts, according to the measure requisite to represent a Wolf. Or else that subtile Spirit deludes our Eyes.

The Second said, If the Proverb be true, That one Man is oftentimes a Wolf to another, we need not recur to extraordi∣nary causes to find Men-wolves. Now the word Wolf is here taken for mischievous, because the wealth of the first Ages consisting in Cattle, they fear'd nothing so much as the Wolf. As for the causes of this brutish malady, whereby a Man imagines himself a Wolf, or is so indeed, they are of three sorts; the biting of a mad Wolf, the atrabilarious humour, or the Imagi∣nation perverted. It seemes at first very strange, that a drop of foam entring into the flesh of a Man at an orifice made by the point of a tooth, should have the power to convert all the humours into its own nature. But seeing the stroke of a Scorpion which is not perceivable to the sight, kills the strongest person, that admiration ceases at the comparison of a thing no less mar∣vellous. For 'tis no more wonder that the humour which issues from an Animal imprints its Image other where, then that it kills an other. When the foam drop'd from a mad Wolf produces its like with its furious spirits, it doth nothing but what other animate bodies with other circumstances, do. Thus the kernel of the Pear or Apple, which subverts our Senses, (call'd therefore malum insanum) so well containes in power the Pear or Apple-tree which produc'd it, that it reproduces another wholly alike; yea, the salt of Sage, Marjoram, Baum, and some others being sown, produces the like Plants without slip or seed. The atrabilarious humour sending up black and gluti∣nous fumes into the brains of melancholy people, not onely make them to believe that the species represented thereby to them are as true as what they see indeed, but impresse an invincible ob∣stinacy in their Minds; which is proof against all reasons to the

contrary, because Reason finds the Organs no longer rightly dispos'd to receive its dictates. And if he who sees a stick bow'd in the water can hardly rectifie that crooked species in his Com∣mon Sense, by reasons drawn from the Opticks, which tell him that the visual ray seemes crooked by reason of the diversity of the medium; how can he whose Reason is not free be unde∣ceiv'd, and believe that he is not a Wolf, according to the spe∣cies which are in his Phancy? But can the Phancy alone do all this? He who feign'd, and frequently pretended that he was one-ey'd, by the power of Imagination became so indeed; and many others whom Phancy alone makes sick, and the fear of dying kills, sufficiently shew its power, which causes that these distracted people perswading themselves that they are Wolves, do the actions of Wolves, tearing Men and Beasts, and roaming about chiefly in the night, which symbolizes with their Humours. Not but that a fourth cause, (namely, evil spirits) interposes some∣times with those natural causes, and particularly with that gloomy black Humuor, which for that reason Saint Jerome calls Satan's bath.

The Third said, That besides those causes, the food taken from some parts of Aliments contributes much to hurt the Imagination of Men in such sort, that they account themselves really brutes. Thus a Maid of Breslaw in Silesia having eaten the brain of a Cat, so strongly conceited her self a Cat, that she ran after every Mouse that appear'd before her. A Spaniard having eaten the brain of a Bear, thought himself to be one. Another that had very often drunk Goats milk, fed upon grass like that Animal. Another who had liv'd long upon Swines blood, rowl'd him∣self in the mire as if he had been truly a Hogg. And 'tis held, that especially the arterial blood of Animals, as containing the purest of their Spirits, produces such an effect. But to believe that these changes can be real, is repugnant to Reason, and the order which God hath establish'd in Nature; in which being nothing can act beyond its bounds, 'tis impossible for Devils to have the power to make a transmutation of substances. For though they have some power upon natural bodies, and even upon Men, to try the good, and punish the wicked; yet the same is so limited that as they cannot create a Hand-worm, so much less can they change substances and transform them into others, which were to annihilate and create both together. Be∣sides, 'tis repugnant in regard of the Form, which cannot inform and actuate any matter but that which is prepar'd and dispos'd for it. Wherefore these transformations are either to be attri∣buted to the Phancy alone, which being perverted makes some conceit themselves not only beasts, but glass, earth, & other absurd things; or else they are to be deduc'd from the depravation of manners. For, as in the Heroical State Men approach'd the Deity, so in that of ferity they come near to the nature of beasts, differ∣ing therein according to each Vice. In regard of their voluptu∣ousness

the Companions of Ʋlysses were accounted Swine; for his Cruelty, one Lycaon a Wolf; for their voices and thieveries, the Companions of Diomedes transform'd into Birds; the Learned taking that metaphorically which the vulgar doth literally.

II. Of the means to acquire Nobility.

Upon the Second Point it was said, There are as many wayes of acquiring Nobility as there are several kinds of it. That which comes by descent, and is called Civil, is not acquir'd, but onely preserv'd and upheld by the resemblance and correspondence of our laudable actions with those of our Fore-fathers: It begins in him who is ennobled, encreases in the Children, is perfected in the Nephews, and lyes in the common opinion, that the ge∣nerous beget a generous off-spring. That which comes from Riches is acquir'd by industry and good husbandry. That which attends Ecclesiastical Dignities comes from Learning, Piety, and Favour. Thus the Cardinals are Princes, and the Nephews of Popes are Sovereigns, in Italy. The Doctoral, which extends to Physitians and Lawyers, the Body of whom the Emperours call the Seminary of Dignities, (declaring them Counts, that is, Counsellors and Assessors of Kings) after exercising their charge twenty years, comes from study, knowledge, and experi∣ence. The Military, from Courage and Valour. That which is obtain'd by the grace or favour of a Prince, whether it be by granting a Fief or Mannor, which alone ennobles its possessor, or not, is acquir'd by merit, and the services done to him. They who desist from all mechanick and sordid action may become noble by virtue of the Prince's Letters. That which comes from the Custome of places is obtain'd by administration of the chief Magistracies in a City, to which the Officers are ad∣mitted by Election, as the Capitouls or Sheriffs at Tholouse, and at Poictiers, and Maires; and Scabins were ennobled by the pri∣viledge of King Charles V. where we must not confound the ancient Chevalry, which are the Gentlemen, with the newly ennobled, who may indeed be call'd Nobles, but not Gentle∣men.

The Second said, The Sacred History gives the first Nobi∣lity to Hunters, when it saith that Nimrod, who was the first King upon Earth, was a mighty Hunter. Aristotle gives it to such as excell in any Art or Exercise, whom he saith are so many Kings in their profession. Many, to the Inventors of things profitable to Humane Society; and indeed Antiquity plac'd such in the number of the gods. Experience causes us to add a fourth sort of persons, whose Bodies, or Minds, or both, are endu'd with such gentle and winning perfections, that in what ever condition they be, even the meanest, that they discover a connatural Nobility through it, and differ as much from the vulgar, as precious stones from others; (to use Ronsard's com∣parison) who saith, that when Deucalion and Pyrrha repair'd

mankind they threw precious stones to make the Nobility, and common stones, to re-people the world with the vulgar.

The Fifth said, That true Nobility cannot be acquir'd but by arms, which are the only original of ancient Nobility. For since more hazards are to be undergone in war then in time of peace, it was necessary to sweeten the toil of arms by annexing Nobility more inseparably to them then to any other exercise: to the end, that the life of Warriors being usually shorter then that of others, by reason of the dangers whereto it is subject, they may, in recompence, live with more honour. Otherwise there's none but would prefer the shadow and ease of Cities be∣fore the travels and hardships of the Campaigne: whereas the most desirous of honour prefer above any thing that guerdon of warlike vertue which is in the hand of Sovereigns, who, as Solon saith, hold the life, honour, and estates of men, of whom they make some Deniers, others Millions, according as they dis∣pose the same.

The Fourth said, There's no true Nobility besides that of extraction, this being unanimously receiv'd in all States, yea amongst the most barbarous Nations. 'Tis for this reason de∣sin'd by the Civilians, an Illustriousness of Lineage, and splendor of Ancestors, with succession of Coat-Armour and Images, con∣fer'd upon some person, and through him to his Family, by the Prince, Law or Custom, in reward of Vertues which are service∣able to the State and humane Society. And although such vertues are proper and particular to their Possessor; yet as the dishonour and infamy which follow Vices and Crimes reflect up∣on Descendants: so the Nobility which follows those vertuous actions, and is nothing else but the honour and reward which ac∣companies them, is diffus'd also to Posterity, and like the streams of Springs (less considerable in their original) is increas'd by time; and the more remote it is, the more it is esteem'd; the highliest priz'd being that which is like Nilus, whose rise is unknown. Thus, the Athenians glory'd that they were Au∣tocthones, or sprung from the Earth; because their Nobility was so ancient, that they affirm'd it impossible to assign the first Author of it: for which reason they wore golden Cockle-shells at their hair, because these Insects never relinquish the place of earth whence they took birth. As the Arcadian Nobles wore Moons in their Hats, and the Romans Crescents upon their shooes, but for several ends; the former intimating thereby that they were a people as old as the Moon, and the latter de∣noting, by this figure of the changeable Moon, the inconstancy of Woman, which sometimes abases the most illustrious, and raises the most abject Families.

The Fifth said, That Nobility depends not only on opinion, as they seem to conclude who have no other ground of it; but it hath its foundation in a solid and real cause, namely, in the proper merit and peculiar actions of every one. So that, to

speak accurately, 'tis no more in the power of any one what∣ever to ennoble an unworthy and undeserving person, then to make a Heroe illustrious in vertue of a vicious man, or a wise man of a fool. Nor doth it arise from riches, which though the or∣nament yet are not the cause of Nobility. For whereas a rich Yeoman is admitted to publick Offices rather then a poor Gen∣tleman; 'tis because the former having more to lose then the latter, hath also more interest in the preservation of the com∣mon good, and consequently is presum'd more careful that all go well with it. Ease and occupation are of no more moment. For our first Father, from whom we derive our Nobility, and his Children, were Labourers; Noah was a Vine-dresser; Saul and David Kings of Israel, Shepherds; and at Venice, Florence, Genua, Luca, and other places of Italy, the Nobles are for the most part Merchants; though in other Countries that imploy∣ment is derogatory to Nobility. For as 'tis not in our power to be born either of noble or mean Parents; so ought not either be imputed to us as commendable or blame-worthy; since praise and dishonour are rightly attributed to us only for what lyes in our ability, as our good or evil actions do. For being 'tis no advantage to a blind man to have quick-sighted parents, or to a gouty son to have a father of sound limbs, why should it be any to a wicked son to have an honest man to his father? on the contrary, it ought to turn to his reproach, that he hath not follow'd the way which he found already beaten. For as good wheat is oftentimes chang'd into Darnel, so the children of illu∣strious men are ordinarily lewd slip-strings; witness the children of Cicero, Aesop, Cimon, Socrates and Alcibiades. On the con∣trary, many times the greatest personages are the issues of the most infamous and abject. Wherefore the seeds of Nobility (namely our actions) being in our selves, the most certain way of acquiring is to do such as are good and vertuous. True it is, those of war are most in esteem, because most persons are capa∣ble of them. Yet excellent civil actions ought to be accompa∣ni'd with the good hap which may make them known and re∣commendable to the Prince; otherwise they are as a light hid under a bushel. But if all these conditions meet in any one whom the vertue of his Ancestors hath dignifi'd to be of an illu∣strious Family; this excellency of descent renders his vertue more acceptable; and this Gentleman's condition is like that of a child upon a Gyant's shoulders, who sees all that the Gyant sees, and also over his head. He hath all the Nobility of his Fore-fathers, and besides, that which is properly his own. To conclude, if the blood of our Ancestors is the body of Nobility, our vertue is the soul of it.

CONFERENCE XXXV.

I. Of feigned Diseases. II. Of regulating the Poor.

I. Of feign'd Diseases.

AS man is the most wilie of all creatures; so he best knows how to dissemble and represent another personage then what he is indeed. But external signs accompany and follow their effects as necessarily as they are preceded by their causes; he cannot so artificially cover his duplicity but it will appear, and his retentions betray themselves. It is as difficult to him to dissemble fear, anger, hatred, envy, and the other passions, when they are real, as to counterfeit them when they are not. The same may be said of Diseases as of the passions of the body. As 'tis almost impossible to dissemble a true Gout or a Fever; so 'tis very hard to feign a Disease when one is in perfect health. They who counterfeit the same are of two sorts. People of quality, and Beggars. Of the first order are many Generals of Armies, who have feign'd themselves sick, that they might sur∣prize their enemies who supposed them in bed; and such as co∣ver with malady that of cowardize; or do it to avoid being present at Assemblies. Thus Demosthenes pretended a Quinzy, that he might not plead against one accus'd of Defrauding the State, by whom he was corrupted with presents. Of the se∣cond sort are they who to avoid the labour common to others, or to cause themselves to be pitied, make semblance of having, one a Leprosie, another the Falling-sickness, a third the Jaundies, and infinite other maladies which they have not, or having some light ones amplifie and continue the same. Such was the inven∣tion of an Italian Souldier of late years, who feign'd himself troubled with certain fits caus'd by the biting of a Tarantula, crying out of extraordinary pain, except when the Musitians play'd; for then he fell to dancing after the same manner as he had heard those use to do who have been hurt by that creature. Physick, to which alone pertains the discerning of these feign'd Diseases, imploys, to that end, this maxime of Geometry, that a right line serves for a measure not only of straight things, but also of oblique. So the perfect knowledge of real Diseases enables us to find out counterfeit. 'Twas by this means Galen discover'd the imposture of a Slave, who to excuse himself from following his Master in a long Voyage, because he was loath to leave his Mistress who was at Rome, made his cheeks swell with the root of Thapsia, and pale with the fume of Cummin. For Ga∣len seeing no other signs agree with these two, cur'd him only with a Refrigerative, whereas a true defluxion requir'd other remedies.

The Second said, Maladies of body or mind are feign'd

by people, to decline some burdensome charge and commission, or some evident danger. Thus Ʋlysses counterfeited himself foolish, to avoid going to the Trojan war; and David being pursu'd by Saul made himself appear distracted to King Achish. The young wife mention'd by Martial, being married to an old man, counterfeited the Hysterical Passions which she found a way to deceive her jealous husband. Such pretences are some∣times us'd to retard an execution of death, or else in a civil mat∣ter to be freed from prison; and many times those things which afford signs to the Physitians are so exquisitely order'd, that the most subtle are over-reached. One makes his Urine black with Ink, or red with Oker, or yellow with Saffron; another applies the root of Ranunculus to his groyn, or some other Emun∣ctory, to counterfeit a Carbuncle; another provokes vomiting by some Emetick, which by that means will cause extraordinary agitation in his Pulse, and give appearences of a pestilential Fe∣ver; or else make so streight a ligature on the upper part of his arm that his Pulse will not beat at all; as Matthiolus reports an ancient Physitian serv'd to confirm the fraud of a Mountebank who us'd that trick to make people believe that being almost dead he was revived by his Antidote. But the most ordinary impostures of this kind are those of Beggars; some of whom fume their faces with Brimstone that they may appear pale. Others rub themselves with the flower of Broom, or the seed of Carthamus, to seem yellow; or else black themselves with Oyl and Soot, to appear struck with Lightning. Which disguisements are easily discover'd by rubbing them with Sope; for it takes off all the superficial colours, and leaves none but the natural caus'd by the humours. Others get some body to make a hole neer their ears, or some other place, and blow strongly there∣into between the flesh and the skin, that so being pussed up they may be taken to have a Dropsie. One of the hardest cheats to be discover'd was that of a Jugler of Flanders, who every morning, having first stopp'd his fundament very exact∣ly, swallow'd down half a pound of Butter and some Quick∣silver after it: which put him into such hideous motions and gestures, that every one judg'd him possest. At night he un∣stop'd himself, and voided his Devil backwards.

The Third said, That a Fever may be caus'd by rubbing the Pulse with Oyle in which the horned Beetle hath been boil'd, or by applying Garlick to the fundament. And that the Herbs, Spear-Crowfoot, Bryony, Turbith, the juice of Tithymal or Spurge, Yew, and many other caustick simples, serv'd them to make Ulcers, which are easily discernable to be artificial. But of all feign'd maladies, the hardest to be known, and the easiest to counterfeit, is Folly, like that of Solon, Brutus and many others; for the most incurable folly is that which imprints fewest signs upon the body; and there are stark fools who have inter∣vals, during which their minds are as clear and serene as the wisest.

The Fourth said, 'Tis usual for those who complain of one another, after a scuffle, to pretend themselves not only more in∣jur'd then they really were, but also wounded when they are not; but especially women big with child are apt to be guilty in this kind. He said, that a certain lewd fellow having out∣rag'd one of his companious almost unto death, yet so that there appear'd no wound or impression of cudgel or other wea∣pon upon his body; for that he had beaten him with a long sack fill'd with gravel; which not making the contusions suddenly apparent, he caus'd him to be visited and search'd immediately, and himself made greater complaints then he. So that had it not been for the wile of the Surgeon who silene'd this bawler by threatning to trepan his head for the easing of these pains where∣of he complain'd, the Judges were hugely at a loss whom to charge with the wrong. Which shews how difficult it is to di∣stinguish true maladies from feigned.

II. Of regula∣ting the Poor.

Upon the second point, it was said, That there are three sorts of poor, some really are, and so call themselves; others call themselves so but are not; and others who though they are so yet do not speak of it. The first are the poor, become infirm through disease, age, or other inconvenience; for whose relief and support Hospitals are design'd. The second are the strong, who cannot be term'd poor so long as they have arms to gain their livings. The third are the bashful poor. Their disorder is general; but that of the strong hath most dangerous effects. And inasmuch as an evil must be known before remedied, it may be said that these Beggars are the most dangerous pest of States; whether they be consider'd in reference to God, us, or themselves. They speak not of God but to blaspheme him; they abuse his Sacraments, and are profess'd breakers of his Command∣ments. For God said to man, Thou shalt eat thy bread in the sweat of thy countenance; but they devour the bread of others without doing any work. There shall be no Beggar amongst you, saith God; but they make a trade of it, and come even to the Altars, to interrupt people's devotions. In respect of us, they are the ordinary Seminary of the Plague, by their nastiness and infections, which they bring even to our doors; of war too, it being always easie, upon the least discontent, to list such peo∣ple, who are ready to do any thing you will put them upon, without fear of punishment, from which poverty is exempted; of Famine also, these idle bellies, and unprofitable burthens of the earth, being as unapt to cultivate it and other arts which bring good things to men, as they are insatiable in devouring them. Yet they do less hurt to others then to themselves, lead∣ing a dead life, yea a thousand times worse then death, through the miseries into which their idleness involves them. Now it imports the publick no less to remedy their slothfulness, then it doth the humane body to suffer a paralytical member, under pre∣text

that it is less noble then the rest. I conceive therefore that 'tis fit to constrain sturdy Beggars to work, by keeping them close, and chastising them; yea, to send them to the Gallies, ac∣cording to the Ordinance of Francis I. rather then suffer their disorders.

The Second said, That Hospitality towards the poor hath been ever in so great esteem, that Pagan antiquity made a prin∣cipal title of it to the greatest of their Gods; and conceiv'd them parallel crimes, to cast the Altar out off the Temple, and to remove mercy out of man's breast, it being so proper to him that it is therefore term'd Humanity; as inseparable as his very being. Nor is there any thing in the world but invites us thereunto by its example. The Guardian Angels and Celestial Intelligences take care of men; the soul immediately sends an affluence of blood and spirits to a wounded part; the principles of nature, how incompleat soever they be, cannot endure pri∣vation, which is the image of Poverty: and the Celestial bodies include in their circumference, warm by their motion, enliven by their light, and adorn by their influences, all the inferior bo∣dies. The Principal amongst them, the Sun, the poor-man's fire, and the type of charity, communicates his light and his heat indifferently to all the world. The Elements use violence, and destroy themselves, rather then endure a vacuity in nature. Me∣tals, the richer they are, the more they are dilatable. Plants which cannot uphold themselves are propt up by others more robust. In brief, all Beasts are frighted at the sight of those of their kind, if they be dead or in any misery. Suidas tells us that there is a bird called Cyncle, which being unable to build a nest by reason of its weakness, is welcome into those of others. But though every thing should not preach this doctrine to us, yet seeing men, how different soever in their belief, all agree in ha∣ving care of the poor; that Charity is to out-live all other Christian vertues; and that our Lord in his sentence of eternal life and death was pleas'd to use no other reason then this of having given or deny'd alms to the poor, whom he calls himself; all this would sufficiently manifest that no greater care ought to be had in any case then in this.

The Third said, that the point in hand was not so much to commend as to determine Charity, and to know whether of the two sorts of Alms (mention'd by S. Austin) Bread, or Disci∣pline, is to be given to every poor person, the latter being of∣times more profitable for them then the former, which, as a Lacedemonian told Diogenes, frequently do's hurt in stead of good; for the giving to a stout Beggar encourages him to accu∣stomed laziness. But on the other side, being Charity is not suspicious, it seems that it ought to be little material to the giver of an Alms, whether the receiver be worthy of it or no, provided he give it with a good intention, according to his power, and without vanity, so highly blamed by our Saviour.

The Fourth said, That the poor ought to be left as they are; and 'tis enough for us that we relieve them with our Alms, ac∣cording to our ability. Experience shews that it has been a fruitless attempt in our days to confine and discipline them; whatever care could be us'd by such as were intrusted therein. But since Poverty is no vice, why should it be punish'd with imprisonment? Besides, our Lord having told us that we shall always have the poor with us, implies that there will always be poor. Zea, were the thing possible, yet it ought not to be put in execution, since charity will become extinguish'd by losing its object. For present objects have most power upon us in all cases, and 'tis not credible that he who scarce feels himself touch'd with compassion at the sight of a wretch languish at his door, would think of the poor when they no longer occurr'd to his view.

The Fifth said, That although we are always to have the poor with us, yet 'tis not thence to be inferr'd that Begging ought not to be restrain'd, should the one include the other, as it doth not; no more then 'tis a good consequence that because scandal must necessarily come to pass, therefore 'tis not lawful to hinder it; or that because the good designs of pious persons which have labour'd in this godly work, have not succeeded in one time, therefore they cannot at another. But to shew how easie it is to take order for the regulation of the poor, 'tis ma∣nifest that almost all forreign Countries have made provision therein; many whereof, when they come to fetch away our corn, justly wonder how we suffer such a multitude of Beggars, considering what order they take with them in their publick penury. Yea, the City of Lyons, whose territory is none of the most fertile of France, and by its example divers other Ci∣ties, have already made provision for them. I conceive, there∣fore, that 'tis easie not only for this populous City of Paris, but for this whole Kingdom, to do the same. Now that may be ap∣ply'd to this regulation which Aesop said to those with whom Xanthus laid a wager, that he would drink up the whole Sea; namely, that he could not do it, unless they first stop'd the course of all the rivers which empty themselves thereinto: so neither is it possible ever to regulate the flux and reflux of poor which come by shoals from all parts of France into this gulph, or rather Parision sea, without prohibiting them entrance into the same; which cannot be done Christianly, nor indeed politickly, without taking care for redress of their miseries, in those places which they abandon. To effect which, we must imitate Phy∣sitians, asswage the most urgent symptomes, and remove the concomitant cause, yet not forgetting the antecedent, nor the general remedies; since, as Aristotle saith, he that would purge the eye must purge the head. The robust poor must eve∣ry one be sent to the place of his birth, if he knows it, or will tell it: by which means the burden will become lighter being

divided: there they must be distinguish'd according to sex, age, conditions, ability of body and mind, capacity and industry, that so they may be distributed into the several imployments whereof they shall be found capable; with absolute prohibiti∣on not to beg or wander from one place to another without per∣mission in writing from him who hath the charge of them, un∣der the penalty of the whip; as also the people being forbid∣den, under a fine, to give Alms elsewhere then at the places ap∣pointed for that purpose. The children of either sex must be put out for some certain number of years to Masters and Mi∣stresses that will take charge of them. Likewise such fellows as understand any Mystery or Craft shall be dispos'd of to Masters; to whom, upon that account, and to all those who shall have the care of such poor, shall be granted the most priviledges and im∣munities, both Royal and Civil, and of Communities, that the rest of the inhabitants of the place can allow. Out of the bo∣dy of which inhabitants shall be chosen, from time to time, the most considerable persons to govern them, who shall not be ad∣mitted to the highest Offices without having first pass'd through this. Such as are able to do nothing else shall be imploy'd in publick works, repairing of Bridges, Banks, Causeys, or Build∣ings, at the charge of the Proprietors. And, to the end, that all these poor may find a livelihood, they shall buy all their Victuals one of another, and have certain Counters instead of money peculiarly current amongst themselves. Aged persons incapable of labour shall have the care of the little children. Such as are fit to travel shall be sent to the Plantations of New France. But all this with such restrictions and modifications as the circum∣stances of each place shall require. This design will be much further'd by new inventions, by working at Mills, by combing old wool and stuffs; by cleansing the streets by night, and many other occupations.

CONFERENCE XXXVI.

I. Of the tying of the Point. II. Which is the greatest of all Vices.

I. Of the tying of the Point.

THis obstacle, proceeding from the jealousie of Corrivals, or Covetousness of Parents, is a Ligature, by which, with certain words pronounc'd during the nuptial benediction, a man becomes incapable of rendring to his wife the legitimate duty of Marriage. This kind of enchantment is, as all others, of the De∣vil's invention, who bearing an irreconcilable hatred to man, en∣deavours all he can to hinder the fruit of generation and of the Sacrament of marriage, by which man acquires that immortality in his species and his successors, which that evil spirit caus'd him

to lose in his individual. 'Tis one of his old impostures. Virgil speaks of it in his eighth Eclogue, where he makes mention of three knots made with three ribbands of different colours, and of certain words of enchantment. S. Augustine, in the second Book, and twentieth Chapter, of Christian Doctrine, declaims against these Sorceries. Our Salick Law, tit. 22. sect. 4. makes mention of some Sorcerers who hinder issue by ligatures. In our time this kind of Maleficium hath been so common that it would be ridiculous to call the experience of it in question. But since the author of it is the spirit of darkness, 'tis no wonder that we see not a whit in the inquiry of its causes.

The Second said, That he could not attribute this impedi∣ment of generation to charms and enchantments, but rather to the power of the Imagination, which is of great moment in this case; as we see also in Love or Hatred, which, though by several ways, render a man incapable of this action. For if one be sol∣licited by a woman whom he thinks unhandsome and hates, he cannot satisfie her, because sadness makes his spirits to retire. Another being surpriz'd with the enjoyment of some rare beau∣ty, becomes alike impotent, because joy dissipates the same spirits. The desire of doing well, and the fear of failing, are also frequently obstacles to it; witness the impotence of Ovid, Regnier, the man mention'd in Petronius, the Count spoken of by Montague, and many others. Now these passions making an impression in the Phancie, disturb and hinder it from moving the Appetite, and consequently the motive faculties, de∣priving them by this means of their ordinary functions.

The Third said, There are two sorts of Impotence, one na∣tural, and the other supernatural. The first happens two ways; either through want of matter, which is the geniture and spirits, or through defect of emission. The former (not to mention the parts serving to generation) happens through the extinction of virility, and that by reason of old age, sickness, violent ex∣ercises, aliments or medicaments cold and dry, and generally by all causes which dissolve the strength, and dissipate the spirits and flatuosities, as Rue, according to Aristotle. The second defect proceeds from the obstruction of the Vessels, or from a Resolution or Palsie befalling the foresaid parts. That which is supernatural is acknowledg'd according to the Canon by the practise of the Church, which ordains the two parties to be unmarried, if at the end of three years they cannot undo this Gordian knot in the presence of seven witnesses. It is made by Sorceries and charms; which indeed have no action of them∣selves; yet when men make use of them, the Devil (according to a compact either tacite or express) acts with them imploying to that end the natural things whereof he hath perfect knowledge, and hinders generation in two manners; either by disturbing the phancie with some images and species of hatred and aversion; or else by suspending the generative faculty by the dissipation

of flatuosities, retention of spirits, and concretion of the geni∣ture. Now natural impotence is discern'd from supernatural, because the first is alwayes alike towards all sort of persons, but the second is onely in reference to some particular Woman, the Man being well enough dispos'd for all others. But change is to no purpose, when the impotence is natural.

The Fourth said, That Ligature is a subverting of the order establish'd in order, by which all things are destinated to some particular action, and are lead to what is sutable for them. 'Tis an impediment whereby the actions of agents as it were repress'd and restrain'd, and 'tis either Physical or Magical. The former proceeds from a particular Antipathy between two Agents, the stronger whereof by some occult contrary property, extinguishes and mortifies the virtue of the weaker. Thus Garlick or a Dia∣mond hinder the Loadstone from attracting Iron; Oyle keeps Amber from drawing straw, and the spirits of the Basilisk fix those of a Man. The second, of which kind is the tying of the Point, is done by Magick, which thereunto employes certain words, images, circles, characters, rings, sounds, numbers, oint∣ments, philtres, charmes, imprecations, sacrifices, points, and other such diabolical inventions; but especially barbarous names without signification, yea, sometimes to that degree of impiety as to make use of sacred things, as the divine appellations, prayers, and verses taken out of the Holy Scripture, which it prophanes in its charmes and fascinations. Because, as Saint Augustine saith, the Devils cannot deceive Christians, and therefore cover their poyson with a little honey, to the end that the bitterness being disguis'd by the sweetness, it may be the more easily swallow'd, to their ruine. These Magical Ligatures, if we may credit those who treat of them, are almost infinite. For there are some parti∣cularly against Thieves, restraining them from carrying away any thing out of the house; others that hinder Merchants from buying or selling in certain Faires, and retain ships in the Port so that they cannot get out to sea either by wind or oars; or keep a mill from grinding, the fire from burning, the water from wetting, the Earth from producing fruits and upholding build∣ings, swords and all sorts of weapons, and even lightning it self from doing mischief, dogs from biting or barking, the most swift and savage beasts from stirring or committing hurt, and the blood of a wound from flowing. Yea, if we believe Virgil, there are some which draw down the Moon to the Earth, and effect other like wonders, by means, for the most part, ridiculous, or pro∣phane. Which nevertheless, I conceive, are to be referr'd either to natural causes, or to the credulity of those who make use of them, or to the illusions of the Devil, or to the hidden pleasure of God, sometimes permitting such impostures to deceive our senses, for the punishing of the over-great curiosity of Men, and chastising of the wicked. For I see not what power of action there is in a number even or odd, a barbarous word pronounc'd

lowdly or softly, and in a certain order, a figure square or tri∣angular, and such other things, which being onely quantities have not any virtue, power, or action; for these belong onely to Qualities.

The Fifth said, That we ought not to do as the vulgar do, who refer almost every thing to supernatural causes. If they behold a Tempest, or Lightning fall down upon any place, they cry the Devil is broke loose. As for effects which are attributed to Occult Properties, 'tis Sorcery, as they say, to doubt that the same are other then the works of Sorcerers. But we must rather imitate true Philosophers, who never recurr to Occult Properties but where reasons fail them; much less to superna∣tural causes, so long as they can find any in nature, how abstruse soever they may be. Those of this knot or impotence, are of three sorts. Some proceed from the want of due Temper, as from too great cold or heat, either of the whole constitution, or of the parts serving to generation. For a good Temperature being requisite to this action, which is the most perfect of any Animal, immoderate heat prejudices the same as much as cold, because it dries the Body, and instead of producing consumes the Spirits. The Second Cause is in the Mind; for the Body is of it self im∣moveable, unless it be agitated by the Soul which doth the same office to it that a Piper doth to his instrument, which speaks not a jot if he blow not into it. Now the Phancy may be carri'd away else where, or prepossess'd with fear, or some other predo∣minant passion: Whence, he that imagines himself impotent, and becomes so indeed; and the first fault serves for a preparatory to the second. Hereupon ariseth, first, displeasure, then despi∣fing of the Women, and so their common hatred augments the evil, and makes it last, till the conceit which produc'd it be cur'd by a contrary one. So Amasis King of Egypt being unsatisfactory to the fair Laodice his Wife, was restor'd in Nature by sacrifices offer'd to Venus. And he of whom Galen speaks, having his whole Body rub'd with Oyle of Sesamum, in which the gall of a Crow had been boyl'd, was cur'd of his impotence. And indeed those untyers of poynts make use of extravagant and uncouth things, affording the Mind more ground of admiration then ratioci∣nation; As they advise the Man to make water through a wed∣ding ring, to be smoak'd with the burnt Tooth of a dead Man, to pass over the threshold of a door, or to sleep upon a pillow under which is plac'd a quill or hazle stick fill'd with quicksilver, and steep'd with new wax, to eat a Bird call'd a Wood-pecker, to be unwarry'd and marry'd again to the same Woman; and other such trifles. Now every thing that can trouble the Phancy, can also bind it and make the Man impotent; as every thing that can content and rectifie it, may again unbind it; there being examples of many, who though ignorant of this wickedness have really bound it, because the Husband onely saw them use the same gestures as those do who intend it; as also of others who

without any skill have unbound it. But when a Man is rightly dispos'd in all his parts, and his Imagination not perverted, and yet he finds himself impotent; then, and in no other case, may we attribute the cause thereof to damnable Sorceries; which, as we must not alwayes credit, so neither can we sometimes question.

The Sixth said, That indeed the near commerce of the Mind with the Body causeth that the one communicates its passions to the other. The Cholerick is easie to be displeas'd; and he who is froward oftentimes acquires much Choler into his temper. Sadness increases the Melancholy Humour, and this again causeth sadness. The Patients good opinion of his Phy∣sitian, and of the success of his malady, helps to cure him; as the fear of Death oftentimes brings it, and the apprehension of the Pestilence hath produc'd it. And in this case the indocility and the obedience of this Part (which seemes a Province dis∣joyn'd from the State, constituted by the three principal parts of the individual) is less to be wonder'd at then the repugnance of his other members; inasmuch as this concerns onely the species, and denyes its use to Man during one part of his Life, namely, from his birth to his puberty, and ordinarily in the latter years of his old age. But Fear hath oftentimes ty'd the Tongues of the ablest Men at such times as they have had most need of them. Yet this reason holds onely in such as are afraid of the tying of the point; and many are found impotent who distrust nothing less; and therefore all that can be said, is, that perhaps some other passions supply its room.

II. Which is the greatest Vice.

Upon the Second Point it was said, There is but one goodness absolutely such, namely, God. All other things are term'd good by the participation and respect which they have to the di∣vine goodness, or by the comparison made of one with another, and according to the different estates and professions of Men. Thus, amongst Divines, he is call'd a good Man who hath most Piety; amongst Merchants, he who hath most credit. But when a Captain bids his Souldiers behave themselves like gens de bien, good Men, his meaning is, that they defeat the Enemy, and not give ground. Even the lowest rank of actions have their kind of goodness. So we call him a good Man who leaves his Wife to do all. Since therefore Evil or Vice is nothing else but the privation of goodness and Virtue, the reason of either is the same, and the word Great, in the question, shews that 'tis onely com∣parison intended in it; nothing being great but in comparison of something less. Wherefore this question ought to be resolv'd se∣verally in each profession, and according to the different estate of persons. Thus taking the word Vice lagely for Evil, the greatest in Divinity is Atheisme; and the next, Heresie; the first rendring a Man a beast, the second making him shake off the yoke of the Church. The greatest Vice of a States-man is

Imprudence; of a Souldier, Cowardice; of a Friend, Treachery; of a Physitian, playing the Mountebank or Cheat; of a Lawyer or Procurator, Prevarication, and when he sells the Cause of his Country; of a Judge, Injustice; of a Mer∣chant, false Weights and Measures; of a Notary, Falsification or Forgery; of a Labourer, purloining the Seed; of a Father, forgetfulness of his Family; of a Wife, Adultery; of a Child, Disobedience; of a Servant, Domestick Thieft.

The Second said, That the different inclination and judgement of Nations is solely of consideration herein. 'Twas no Vice at Sparta to be a subtle Thief, nor at present among those roamers who take upon them the name of Egyptians; but amongst peo∣ple of Honour, 'tis one of the most ignominious. And as for Drunkenness, the Northern Nations and we do not agree about it. Yet if Vices be consider'd in general, some one may be assign'd greater then all the rest in Humane Society. For of corporeal things which we call great, there are some which are so onely in comparisons of individual of the same species; so the same size which denominates a Dog great, denominates a Horse small. But some are greater then all others, namely, the highest of the Heavens. So likewise there are some Vices greater, and some less, compar'd one with another; as Theft with Sacri∣ledge. But there is also some one greater then all others, which I conceive to be Pride, not onely in comparison of Humility, its contrary, the foundation of all Christian and Moral Virtues, but also because all Vices take their original from it. 'Tis that which caus'd the fall of Angels and the first Man, which hath caus'd and continu'd all the mischiefs which befall us. Yea, 'tis not onely the greatest, but also the most odious. As is prov'd, in that if you see a Prodigal, a Miser, a debauch'd person, a Thief, or a very Murtherer pass by, you are not mov'd to so much hatred against them, as against some proud fool; who beholding others disdainfully, knows not in what posture to put himself.

Of those which spoke afterwards, One said that he di∣stinguish'd Vice from Sin, and Malice, or Enormity. The first being an habitude to evil, the second the act thereof, and the third the deformity which follows them both. Another held Atheisme to be the greatest Vice. Others said, it was the sin against Nature. One assign'd Philautie, or the inordinate love of ones self, as being the impulsive cause of all other Vices, to Ingratitude, Covetousness and Idleness; each maintaining the same to be the root of all other evils. Injustice was also instanc'd to comprehend all Vices, as Justice contains in it self all Virtues. For he who is proud, covetous, prodigal, or a Murtherer, would not be so if he were not unjust, whilst he attributes more to him∣self, and less to others, then is due. And for conclusion it was said, That as of the diseases of the Body, those are term'd the greatest which invade the most noble part, or have the most

dangerous symptomes; (as the prick of a pin in the heart is more mortal then the cutting off of an arm, and the same puncture is more perillous when Convulsions thereupon befall the whole bo∣dy, then a wound with a sword in some fleshy part without any accidents;) so Ignorance and Imprudence are the greatest vices, because they possess the most noble Faculty of man, the Under∣standing, and produce all the rest.

At the hour of Inventions, a Proposition was reported to draw Smith's-coal out of the lands of this Kingdom, and in so doing to cut channels for the draining of Marshes, and making rivers Navigable, in order to the conveniency of transportation, sacilitation of commerce, feeding of Cattel, and preservation of Forests. This Invention, besides the advantage it will bring to the meaner sort of people, in reference to their domestick fuel, is of much benefit for the making of Brick, Tile and Lime; as much of which may be made thereby in three days as is made in eight or nine with wood, which is the ordinary fashion. It will be a matter of great saving to the whole Kingdom, especi∣ally to the abovesaid Artists, who are here in great number, and are forc'd to buy such Coal from England at dear rates. The Proposer offer'd to continue the experience which he had made thereof, at his own charges, for satisfaction of the curious.

CONFERENCE XXXVII.

I. Of the Cabala. II. Whether the truth ought always to be spoken.

I. Of the Ca∣bala.

THat which hath hapned to many other words, as Tyrant and Magician, which at their first institution were taken in a good sense, but have abusively degenerated into odious sig∣nifications, is found likewise in the word Cabala, which (ac∣cording to its genuine importance) signifies nothing else but Tradition, and comes from the Verb Cabal, denoting with the Hebrews to give or receive. 'Tis a mystical doctrine concerning God and the creatures, which the Jews receiv'd by tradition from Father to Son. If we may give credit to them, it Began in Adam, who had a perfect knowledge not only of the whole na∣ture and property of things corporeal; but also of the Divine nature, of the mysteries of Religion, and of the redemption of mankind, which his Angel Raziel assur'd him was to come to pass by means of a just man whose name should consist of four letters [which is the cause, say they, that most part of the Hebrew names are of four letters in their language, wherein the vowels are no letters] Adam taught these mysteries to his

children; they to their successors until Abraham and the Patri∣archs. But, they say, Moses learn'd it anew from the mouth of God during the forty days that he was in the Mount, where he receiv'd two Laws, one written with the hand of God, com∣priz'd in the two Tables of stone; the other not written and more mysterious: the former for all in general, the latter for the learned and skill'd in mysteries of Religion: which is that which Moses taught the seventy Elders of the People, chosen by himself according to the counsel of Jethro his Father-in-law; and they transfer'd the same to the Prophets, Doctors of the Law, Scribes, Pharisees, Rabbines, and Cabalists.

The Second said, That in order to judge of the Cabala, 'tis requisite to know what the Philosophy of the Jews was; as the Stoicks, Peripateticks, Pyrrhonians, and other Philosophers, had their peculiar Sects. 'Tis divided commonly into that of things, and that of words or names. The first is call'd by the Rabbines Bereschit, the second Mercana. That which treats of things, by the Cabalists call'd Sephiroch, that is to say, numbers or knowledges (for with them, to number and to know are al∣most synonymous) is either Philosophical or Theological. The Philosophical comprehends their Logick, Physicks, Metaphy∣sicks, and Astronomy. In Logick they treat of the ten lesser Sephi∣roth; which are so many steps or degrees for attaining to the knowledge of all things, by means of Sense, Knowledge, or Faith; and they are divided into three Regions. In the lowest, which is made by the sense, are (1) the Object, (2) the Medium or Diaphanum, (3) the External sense. In the second and mid∣dle region are, (4) the Internal or common Sense, (5) the Imagi∣nation or Phancie, (6) the Estimative Faculty or inferior Judge∣ment. In the third and supream (7) the Superior and Humane Judgement. (8) Reason. (9) The Intellect; (10) and lastly, the Understanding or Mens; which performs the same office to the Soul that the Eye doth to the Body whom it enlightens. For example, when I hear a Cannon discharg'd, the sound comes to my ears by the medium of the air, then the Common Sense receiving this species of the sound transmits the same to the Imagination, and the Estimative Faculty judges thereof simply, as beasts would do; afterwards the Judgement apprehends the essence of the sound, Reason searches the causes thereof, and the Intellect considers them; but lastly, the Understanding or Mens, call'd by the Cabalists Ceter, that is, a Crown (by way of excellence) receiving light from on high irradiates the Intel∣lect, and this all the other Faculties. And these are the degrees of Cabalistical knowledge. In the other parts of their Philo∣sophy they treat of the fifty gates of light. Whereof the 1. is the Divine Essence, the Symbol of which is the Tetragram∣maton and ineffable name of God; The 2. gate is the Arche∣typal World; the knowledge of which two gates, they say, was hid even to Moses. The 3. is the Earth; 4. Matter; 5. Va∣cuum

or Privation; 6. The Abysse; 7. The Fire; 8. The Air; 9. The Water; 10. The Light; 11. The Day; 12. Accidents; 13. The Night; 14. The Evening; 15. The Morning. And after many other things they constitute Man for the 50th gate. To arrive to the knowledge of these 50 gates, they have in∣vented 32 Flambeaux or Torches to guide them into the secrets contained therein, which they call the paths of Wisdom, name∣ly the Intelligence miraculous or occult, Intelligence sanctify∣ing, resplendent, pure, dispositive, eternal, corporeal, &c. The Theological Cabala treats of God and Angles. Of God, by expounding the names of 12 and 42 letters, yea they attri∣bute seven hundred several ones to him; and particularly the ten Divine Attributes, which they term the grand Sephiroth, namely, Infinity, Wisdom, Intelligence, Clemency or Good∣ness, Severity, Ornament, Triumph, Confession of praise, Foun∣dation and Royalty, whereby God governs all things by weight, number, and measure. Of Angels, namely of the 32 abovesaid Intelligences, call'd by them the paths of wisdom (for they make them so many Angels) and of seventy two other An∣gels; the names they compose of the 19, 20, and 21. Verses of the 14. Chapter of Exodus, in each of which there being 72 letters, they form the name of the first Angel out of the three first letters of each Verse; the name of the second, out of the three second letters of the same Verses; and so the rest, adding at the end of every word the names of God, Jah or El, the for∣mer whereof denotes God as he exists, and the latter signifies Mighty or Strong God. The Cabala which treats of words and names is nothing else but the practice of Grammar, Arithmetick and Geometry. They divide it into three kinds. The first whereof is called Notarickon, when of several first or last letters of some word is fram'd a single one; as in our Acrosticks. The second, Gématrie, when the letters of one name answer to the letters of another by Arithmetical proportion; (the Hebrews as well as the Greeks making use of their letters to number withall.) Whence some Moderns have affirm'd that Christiani∣ty will last seven thousand years, because the letters of 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 and of the same value in number with those of 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. The third is call'd Themurath, which is a transposition of letters, like that of our Anagrams, the most common way of which is to change the last letter of the Alphabet into the first; and on the contrary; to which kind are referr'd the words and verses which are read backwards, such as this:

opus
l
I. Deus elati mutatum Itale suedi.
l
supo

Thus, they prove by the first word of Geneses, which is Beres∣chit, that the world was created in Autumn, because in this word is found that of Bethisri, which signifies Autumn: And that the Law ought be kept in the heart, because the first letter of the Law is Beth, and the last Lamed, which two letters being put together, and read after their mode, which is backwards, make Leb, which signifies the heart.

The Third said, If the word Cabala be taken for a tradition, that is to say, the manner in which the Jews made their sacrifices and prayers according to the instruction which they had from Father to Son concerning the same, it deserves to be esteem'd for its antiquity, although it be abolish'd. And the more in regard of the Hieroglyphical and mysterious names of God and Angels which it contains; and whereof whosoever should have a perfect and intire knowledge would find nothing impossible. 'Twas by this means, say they, that Moses divided the waters of the Red Sea, and did so many other miracles, because he had written at the end of his Rod the name of Jehovah. For if it be true that black Magick can do wonders by the help of malig∣nant spirits, why not the Cabala, with more reason, by means of the names of God, and the Angels of light, with whom the Caba∣lists render themselves friends and familias? Our Lord seems to confirm the same, when he commands his Apostles to make use of his name for casting Devils out of the possessed, and to heal diseases, as they did, and the Church hath done, after them, to this day. The victory of Judas Maccabaeus against the enemies of his Religion, hapning by means of a sign of four letters; that of Antiochus over the Galatae, by a Pentagone; that of Con∣stantine the great, by the sign of the Cross; and the Thau where∣with the Scripture arms the foreheads of the faithful, demon∣strate that figures are not wholly inefficacious. The Critical days of Diseases, and the practice of Physitians, who administer their Pills in odd number, which the Pythagoreans call the mas∣culine number, shew likewise that all kind of vertue cannot be deny'd to number, and consequently that the Cabala is not to be blam'd for making account of numbers, names and figures, the knowledge whereof would undoubtedly be most excellent did it not surpass the reach of humane capacity, which cannot com∣prehend the connexion which there is between the name and the thing which it denotes, the number and the thing numbred, and figure and the thing figured. For since the external figure of a man or other animal gives me to know his substance which I see not, and the species of this figure entring into my senses suffices to make me conceive the thing without its stirring out of its place; why shall not the names, and particularly those impos'd on things by our first Parent in the Hebrew language, have as necessary a signification and connexion with things as the other accidents which are the objects of our senses? And why shall we not believe the same of the letters which represent those names in the same language?

The Fourth said, That the Cabala was either Allegorical or Literal. The former was more conjectural; but if there be any vertue in characters which signifie nothing, with more rea∣son the words, syllables and letters, which are the visible names of things, shall not be without. This gave ground to the Caba∣lists to consider in letters not only their number and Arithmeti∣call value; but also their order, proportion, harmony, magni∣tudes and Geometrical figures, observing whether they be straight, crooked or tortuous, closed or not; thus in one passage where the Messiah is spoken of, some have concluded from a Mem which is found closed in the middle of a word, contrary to custom, that this Messiah should come out of the closed womb of a Virgin, contrary to the course of the ordinary birth of men. Thus, Rabbi Haccadosch, in the first letters of these three Hebrew words of Genesis 49. v. 10. Jebo Scilo Velo, found those where∣with the Hebrews write the name of our Saviour, namely JSV.

The Fifth said, That we ought to govern our selves in the reading of the Cabalists, as Bees do, who gather only the good and leave the bad, which is more plentiful; and above all avoid the loss of time which is employ'd in turning over the tedious volumns of the Thalmudists, which are either so unpleasant, or their sence so much unknown to us through the envy which they bore to their successors, that we may with more reason tear their Books in pieces then a Father did the Satyrs of Perseus, saying that since he would not be understood by the surface and out-side, like other Writers, he would look within, whether he were more intelligible.

II. Whether Truth is al∣ways to be spoken.

Upon the second Point it was said; Truth and Justice being reciprocal, and the former, according to Aristotle, a moral Duty, it much imports the interest of Government that it be observ'd and kept inviolably, not only in contracts and publick actions, but also in private discourses; and 'tis a kind of sacriledge to go about to hide it. Moreover, 'tis one of the greatest affronts that can be put upon a man of honour, to give him the lye. For as 'tis the property of an ingenuous man to avow the Truth freely, and not to dissemble; so Lying is the sign and consequent of a servile spirit. Hence the Persians were not contented to cause the children of their Kings to be instructed above all things, al∣ways to speak the truth; but they erected Temples and Altars to this Vertue as to a Deity, and ador'd it under the name of Oromagdes, which signifies the God of Truth. And therefore 'tis my judgement that truth ought always to be spoken although it be to one's own damage.

The Second said, If it be necessary always to speak truth, and that it be the conformity of our words with our thoughts, mine is, that it is not always to be spoken. This Nature teaches us, whilest she discovers to us only the surface of the earth, but hath hid all the treasures of it, as all the parts of

man, especially the more noble are conceal'd under the skin. That which vilifies mysteries is the publishing of them, call'd Prophanation. That which hinders the effect of State-Coun∣sels, whereof secrecy is the soul, is the letting of them be dis∣cover'd, which is Treason. That which takes away the credit from all arts and professions, is the rendring them common. And Physick (amongst others) knows the advantage of conceal∣ment, whilst the welfare of the Patient many times depends upon his ignorance. Would you see what difference there is between a wise man and a fool, a Civil Man and a Clown? it do's not consist in knowledge; for they oftentimes have the same thoughts and inclinations; but the Fool speaks all that he thinks, the Wise man doth not; as the Clown will declare by Gesture and (if he can) do every thing that comes into his phan∣cie, but the better bred man uses restraint upon himself. The Comoedian therefore wanted not reason, to say that Truth be∣gets Hatred; and the Scripture teaches us that God built houses for the wise Egyptian women who ly'd to Pharaoh, when they were commanded to murther the Hebrew children at the birth, but obey'd not. For though some hold that God pardon'd them the lye in regard of the good office which they render'd to his Church, and that 'twas for this good office that God dealt well with them; yet, leaving this subtilety to the School∣men, 'tis evident that their dissimulation was approv'd in this case.

The Third said, There's great difference between Lying and not speaking all the truth which is expected from us; the for∣mer being vicious, the other not; whence S. Athanasius being ask'd by the Arrians who pursu'd him, whether he had seen Athanasius, told them that he went that way a little while since, but did not tell them that himself was the person. And S. Francis being ask'd whether he did not see a robber pass by, shew'd his sleeve, and said, that he did not pass that way.

The Fourth said, As only weak and distemper'd eyes are una∣ble to bear the light of the Sun, so none but weak and sickly minds cannot suffer the lustre of truth. All men are oblig'd to speak it, but particularly that which is dictated from God's mouth; and we ought rather to choose Martyrdom then re∣nounce the belief of it. Less ought they to conceal it who are bound to it by their condition, as Preachers and Witnesses; provided they have regard to place, time, and persons. With∣out which circumstances 'tis as inacceptable and absur'd as to carry a Queen to an Ale-house. Yet in two cases particularly the telling of truth may be dispens'd with, I. when the safety of the Prince or good of the State is concern'd, for which, Plato in his Commonwealth saith, it is lawful to lye sometimes; and the Angel Raphael told Tobias that 'tis good to hide the secrets of Kings. II. When our own life is concern'd, or that of our Father, Mother, and Kindred, against whom, although we

certainly know them guilty of a Crime, we are not oblig'd to declare it; provided, nevertheless, that it be with the respect due to the Magistrate, and that we beware of speaking lyes whilst we intend onely to decline discovery of the Truth. 'Tis the opi∣nion of the Civilians, and amongst others, of Paulus, in l. 9. ff. de Test. that a Father cannot be constrain'd to bear witness against his Son, nor a Son against his Father, except in the case of High Treason.

The Fifth said, That these three things must not be confound∣ed, To lye, To speak or tell a lye, and to do or act one. To lye is to go against our own meaning; as when I know a thing, and not onely conceal it, but speak the contrary. This action, according to some, is alwayes evil, inasmuch (say they) as 'tis never lawful to do evil that good may come of it. According to others, 'tis qualifi'd according to the diversity of its end. For he who tells a lye to save a Traveller's life who is pursu'd by Thieves, seemes to do better then if he expos'd him to their Cruelty by his discovery. The Physitian who dissembles to his Patient the danger of his disease, and thinks it enough to acquaint his domesticks therewith, do's better then if he cast him into despair by a down-right dismal prognostication; and when he chears him up in fitting time and place by some pleasant made Story, what he speaks can scarce be reckon'd amongst idle words. But he who lyes for his Profit, as most Trades-men do, sins proportionably to the deceit which he thereby causes; but he is most culpable who lyes to the Magistrate. One may tell or speak a lye without lying, namely, when one speaks a false thing conceiving it to be true. To do or speak a lye, is to lead a life contrary to ones profession; as he who preaches well and lives ill. Whence I conclude, that many precautions are requisite to lye without committing an offence, that a lye is to be spoken as little as possible, and never to be done or acted at all.

CONFERENCE XXXVIII.

I. Of the Period, called Fits of Fevers. II. Of Friendship.

I. Of the Fits of Agues.

A Fever is a Heat contrary to Nature kindled in the Heart, and from thence sent by the Arteries and Veins into the whole Body, with a manifest laesion or disturbance of the action. It is so inseparable from the Heart in case of any injury, that being we cannot dye without the Heart be mis-affected; therefore many have thought that we cannot dye without a Fe∣ver, though 'twere of a violent death. And for that there are three

subjects which receive this Heat, viz. the Parts, the Humours, and the Spirits; thence ariseth the distinction of Fevers into three kinds, the Hectick, the Humoral, and the Ephemera, or One-day Fever. The first is in the solid parts, and is call'd Hectick or Habitual, because it resides in the whole habit of the Body, and is of very long continuance, yea, ordinarily lasts till Death. The second, call'd Humoral, is, when the Humours are enflam'd, either through a bare excess of Heat without other alteration in their substance, or with corruption and putrefacti∣on, which happens most frequently. The third kind is when onely the Spirits are enflam'd, and 'tis call'd Ephemera, because it continues but one day; unless the Humours too become of the party, as it falls out usually; and it admits of three differ∣ences, according to the three sorts of Spirits, Animal, Vital, and Natural. The Humoral Fever is either Simple or Compounded. The Simple is either Continual or Intermitting. The Continual is caus'd when the putrefaction of the Blood possesses the great Vessels, or some noble Part. The Intermitting, produc'd by the three other Humours putrefying out of the Veins, is either Quotidian, which is produc'd by Phlegme; or Tertian, by Choler; or Quartane, by Melancholy. The Compounded (or complex) Humoral Fever is caus'd by the mixture of those Humours, which then cause a double Quotidian, double Ter∣tian, and double Quartane, yea, sometimes, but very rarely, a Quintane, and others of longer interval; which may be attri∣buted to all the different from which Fevers arise. The Efficient, causes is, in my opinion, the strength of Nature, and every one's particular Temper; as he who is more robust, and upon whom the disease is more violent, will have longer Fits, (the Fight of Nature with the Malady being more stoutly maintain'd by the parties) and consequently shorter intervals, because that which increases to the one decreases to the other. The Chole∣rick will have longer Fits of a Tertian Fever, and shorter of a Quotidiane. The Material Cause contributes very much here∣in, being that which supplies Ammunition to this intestine War, which is continu'd or discontinu'd according to the proportion and quantity of the Matter. 'Tis more easie to name the Formal Cause then to understand it. But as for the Final, 'tis certain that Nature makes the intervals of Fevers purposely to rally and re∣cruit her strength; as truces and cessations of Armes use to be made when the Country is almost spent, or the Souldiers too much harrass'd and out of heart.

The Second said, That the Periods of Fevers have been mat∣ter of torture to the best wits, who could not without admira∣tion consider, how, (e. g.) one sick of a Quartan, and appearing to day at the point of Death, should nevertheless for two days together perform all his actions perfectly; and then upon the fourth, many times too at the same hour (in more contumacious Fevers) become in the like pitiful condition again. Now the

Cause hereof is commonly attributed to the time which is re∣quir'd for producing the matter of the Fever, and consuming it. They hold that it is so long in consuming as the Fit lasts, the the end whereof is the Crisis; like as the ancient water-clocks of the Romans did not signifie nor strike the hour till the vessel was full. Some have imputed the cause to the motion of the Humour, and believ'd that as the humid mass of the Sea hath its flux, reflux, and interval, so have the Humours of our Bodies, when the natural heat which regulated them, being disorder'd, and its effect suspended by the disease, governes the same no longer, but abandons them to their own Capricio. Of which motion 'tis no easier to render a reason then of that of the Sea, the Load-stone, and all other occult motions. Hence many have recurr'd to the Asylum of Last Differences, the knowledge whereof is interdicted to Humane Capacity. And therefore they have ventur'd to assign no other cause, saving that the In∣terval of these Fevers being their most proper Difference, it must not be wonder'd if we understand their nature as little as those of all other things in the world.

The Third said, That the time which is requisite for generat∣ing the Humour cannot be the cause of these Intervals, since the Fits of a Fever are longer or shorter, though the Fever change not its Nature; yea, it will become double or trebble sometimes, and still keep the name of a Quartan. As, on the contrary, when there is so little matter left for it that it is almost quite gone, yet it alwayes returnes on the fourth day, although the Fit lasts a shorter time. Yea, it comes to pass oftentimes, that he who hath had a Quartan, and is cur'd of all other Symptomes of his Ague, yet for a long time after feels the chilness and weariness at the same day and hour that his Disease was wont to seize upon him: In the mean time while 'tis manifest that the Fever being gone, the Melancholy Humour is no longer gather'd together in sufficient quantity to produce it; and therefore the cause can∣not be attributed to the Melancholly Humour, since it no longer causeth the fever. Whereby we may judge that the quantity of the matter contributes to the lengthening or diminishing of the fit, but gives not the fever its name or form. Now as for the motion which they attribute to the Humour, like that of the Sea, and their calling this Interval the form of the Fever, 'tis a confession of their Ignorance, but not a solution of the Question. Galen, in the second Book of the Differences of Fevers, and the last Chapter, refers the cause of these regular and periodical motions to the dispositions of the parts of the whole Body, which being distem∣per'd cease not to transmit or receive, generate or attract super∣fluous and excrementitious humours; and he holds that so long as the cause of these dispositions lasts, so long the circuits continue; and consequently, the reason why a Tertian which is caus'd by Choler returnes every third day, is, because the distemper'd parts transmit, or receive, or generate bilious humours and ex∣crements

every other day. But the question remains still, whence it is, that these parts are affected in such manner that they cause such just and regular periods? For though it be true that the parts, by reason of pain or heat, (e. g.) yellow putrid Choler; nevertheless this doth not infer that they attract the same rather the third day then the fourth or every day, as they ought to do; since the cause being alwayes present, viz. the pain or heat which incessantly attracts this humour, the effect should alwayes follow and make a Quotidian circuit; although indeed 'tis but, once in three dayes.

The Fourth said, That as Physitians refer the unusual mo∣tions of Epileptical, and the violent sallies of the Frantick, not barely to the phlegmatick or atrabilarious humour, but to a cer∣tain quality of it; so ought we to do touching the periodical motions of Fevers, which proceed not simply from the humours corrupted, but from a particular condition and virtue of each humour, whereby it is that putrifying Phlegme makes its ap∣proaches every day, Choler every third, and Melancholy every fourth day. And as these humours, so long as they retain their natural constitution, have a regular motion which carries one into the Bladder of Gall and the Guts, the other into the Spleen, and the other into the Stomack; so being corrupted, each ac∣quires a certain new quality and putrefaction, which is the cause of other periodical motions, namely, those of Fevers.

The Fifth said, That as health is a Symmetrie and fit proporti∣on of all the humours while they continue in society one with an∣other; so a Fever is a discomposure thereof when some one comes to infringe the obedience which it owes to the laws of the Com∣positum, and to usurp a Tyranny over the rest. In which case, they do as States who apprehend their own ruine by the too great increase of a potent neighbour; they unite against it, and go to assail it all together. Upon this shock, the natural heat retires to the Heart which is the centre of the Body, as if it call'd its Councel; hence proceeds the cold fit of the Fever, during which the extreme parts, destitute of their ordinary heat, fall into trembling, shivering, and chattering; as it comes to pass upon the Earth, when the Sun is very remote from it: But Nature at length getting the mastery, is not contented to return the Blood to the parts who were depriv'd thereof, in the same condition that they lent it to her; she drives it into them with a new heat acquir'd by the vicinity of the Heart, which is the source thereof, and augmented by the reciprocation of its motion. But as no violent thing is of long continuance, this heated Blood cau∣sing its sharpest serosities to pass through the skin by sweat, be∣comes asswaged, and (as water remov'd from off the fire ceases to boyle) it no longer extends the Veins, nor stimulates the Arteries, whether this Crisis perfectly terminates the disease, as in Continual Fevers, or the Fit onely, as in Intermitting; which leaving a leven of the Fever, how little soever, in the humours

and an empyreuma or combustion in the parts, the best Ali∣ments, yea, the most laudable humours, if any such remain in the Body, are as easily turn'd into the matter of the Fever, as the best Wine is spoyl'd when it is pour'd upon a corrupted lee in a musty vessel. And 'tis not so much to be wonder'd that this corruption is made regularly in the time of half a day in Quoti∣dians, of one day in Tertians, and of two in Quartans, as that the Periods of Fevers are sometimes irregular, as is seen in Er∣ratical Fevers; considering that all generations and corruptions are reciprocal and have their limited time. Thus 'tis a less wonder that Women are ordinarily deliver'd of Children likely to live, in the ninth and seventh moneths, then if they were de∣liver'd so in all the other moneths indifferently; which hath place in all other motions of Nature, who doth every thing ac∣cording to number, weight, and measure.

II. Of Friend∣ship.

Upon the Second Point the First said, Friendship is a power∣full and streight Union which conjoynes the lover and the loved party together, making one whole of these two parts; like that bond which in Nature unites the Matter and the Form, the Accident and the Substance. The cause of it is Goodness, which being proportionate to the Body, produceth a natural Amity; to the Passions, an Animal Amity; to the Understanding, a Ra∣tional one; to the Laws, a Political or Civil; to Religion, a Divine one. This Goodness consisting in a Proportion and Sym∣metry is not different from Beauty; and therefore we apprehend Beauty in good things, and goodness and convenience in such as are handsome and gracefull.

The Second said, besides goodness which is the cause of Friend∣ship, and towards which our will is as necessarily carry'd as the In∣tellect is towards Truth, and all the Senses towards their proper objects; Resemblance and Friendship it self are the causes of Friendship. The first is founded upon the Love which we bear to our selves. For as we love our selves above any thing else in this world, so we love those who resemble us, and symbolize with our humours and inclinations. Hence it is that one of the most common courses to please, is, to conform our selves to those by whom we desire to be affected; we never contradict their Judgement, we have no other Will but theirs, we frame our selves to their gestures and actions, without excepting those which are imperfect. Then Friendship, the second means of acquir∣ing Love, is no less effectual; it being almost impossible not to love them who love us. Whence the Ancients feign'd Love to be the most ancient of all the gods, intimating that Love hath no other Principle or Origine but Love it self. And they who assign'd him a Companion which they styl'd Anteros, signifi'd thereby, that Friendship cannot last unless it be mutual.

The Third said, That Friendship must be distinguish'd from Love. For Love is a Passion of the Concupiscible Appetite,

arising from the imagination of a sensible good, and is found even in brute beasts. But friendship is one of the most excel∣lent vertues, or rather the fruit of accomplish'd and perfect ver∣tue; 'tis indeed very rare, because it hath place only amongst excellent persons (who are very few) uniting and making them conspire together in the exercises of vertue. But being once establish'd, it is very durable, inasmuch as its cause and founda∣tion, Vertue, always remains, and may be exercis'd. There∣fore Seneca pronounces, that the friendship which knows an end was never true. Some friendships there are (indeed the most) whose foundation is Profit and Pleasure, but they are always imperfect. Whence it is that old men and young men are ordi∣narily accounted incapable of true friendship; the former, be∣cause they scarce regard any thing besides Profit; and the latter, because their minds are more set upon what is pleasant and agreeable then upon what is honest or vertuous. Nor is it ever found amongst wicked persons. For 1. a perfect friend must love another as much as himself. And although the affection we bear to our selves be not true friendship, because this must always have reference to another, yet it is the most certain, yea the measure of perfect friendship, and God hath appointed it as the rule of our love to our Neighbour. Now how can he be a perfect friend who doth not love himself? How can he agree with another who accords not with himself? and how will he do good to another, who doth none to himself? for a vicious man is his own chiefest enemy, whilst he pursues the false and imaginary good in stead of the true; vice, instead of vertue; the shadow, for the body; and many times he becomes his own murderer by intemperance and other vices. He hath always a civil war within himself; his Reason is never at peace with his Appetite; what one desires, the other rejects. Conse∣quently, he hath never any inward joy, but he is greatly dis∣pleas'd with being alone, and for that reason always seeks the company of those like himself, to divert his sad thoughts.

The Fourth said, There is nothing comparable to Friendship, which is the salt and seasoning of humane life, the presever of societies, and the most agreeable and sweetest consolation that persons of vertue and honour can have; by help of which a man finds another self, to whom he may entrust his most secret thoughts. This consideration mov'd Archytas the Tarentine to say, That he who should ascend into the Heavens and atten∣tively survey the beauty of the Stars and all the Celestial Orbes, would have no pleasure if he found no person to whom to re∣count those wonders, and communicate his felicity. 'Tis there∣fore one of the greatest contentments to have a friend, whom you may make partaker of your felicity, which is so much the greater when it is communicated to others without being dimi∣nish'd to your self; and in case adversity befall you, the same is sweetned by the relation you make thereof to him who shares

this burden with you, and so renders it more supportable. True it is, that although a friend be necessary in either fortune, yet he is of more advantage to us in adversity; in which a friend supplies his friend with help and counsel, and is thereby distin∣guish'd from a false one, who loves only for the sake of his own pleasure and profit. Now whatever is excellent hath most of Unity. And as a River divided into several streams is more weak; so friendship shared amongst many is always languid and impotent. Besides, a friend should be complacent to his friend in every thing, and they ought to be but one soul living in two bodies. Now 'tis as hard to please many, as 'tis impossible to please all the world. And should two friends at the same time implore the succour of a third, he could not betake himself to both together, nor consequently satisfie the duty of friendship.

The Fifth said, That Friendship is either Natural, Spiritual, or Moral. The Natural is between Father and Children, Bre∣thren and Sisters, Husband and Wife, and between Kindred or Alliance. The Spiritual is between those who profess the same Law and Religion, such as is that of Christians and Monasticks. The Moral is between such as are united together upon the ac∣count of Vertue; such was that of Theseus and Pirithous, Orestes and Pylades, Damon and Pythias, Aeneas and Achates, Achilles and Patroclus, Jonathan and David, and so few others, that many have conceiv'd perfect Friendship but an Idea, a mark to be aim'd at, but never hit; much like the description of a perfect Orator. It consists only in the union of Wills, not of Under∣standings; for I may have an opinion different from that of my friend without prejudicing our friendship, but not a different Will. And as honesty doth not take away piety, nor piety ho∣nesty; so spiritual and moral friendship do not destroy one the other. For I may love one morally whom I love not spiritual∣ly; that is, I may conspire with him in the exercises of honesty or vertue, though I differ in those of piety.

CONFERENCE XXXIX.

I. Why all men naturally desire knowledge. II. Whe∣ther Permutation or Exchange be more commodious then Buying and Selling.

I. Why all men naturally de∣sire know∣ledge.

ARistotle rightly teacheth that the first Question ought to be whether the thing be or exist; because 'tis in vain to seek the causes of that which hath no being. 'Tis therefore first to be inquir'd, whether it be true that all men have a natural desire of knowing; and then the causes thereof must be sought. That

which is natural must be found in all; so we say 'tis natural to a stone to tend downwards, because all of them do so. But 'tis so far from being true that all men are desirous to know and learn, that for rectifying the defect of such desire we see Teach∣ers sometimes arm'd with the rod, sometimes forc'd to use al∣lurements and rewards, and employ all artifices they can devise to excite a desire of learning in such as want it, the number of whom is always greater then of others. Hence it is that in a School of five hundred Scholars you shall scarce find fifty that have well profited in learning; and amongst a hundred Masters of a Trade, scarce ten good workmen. Moreover, there are some men who have not much less of the beast then of the man. And as the greatest Clerks (according to the Proverb) are not always the wisest men, so neither are they the most happy. The best and most knowing Philosophers are not the men that do their business best now-adays. 'T will be said, that to under∣stand the means of advancing one's self is a sort of knowledge, and they who have not a genius for learning have one for other things, and profit therein as well as in the Sciences. But I an∣swer, that Philosophy being the key of all other Disciplines, 'tis a sign that they will not open the chest, when they refuse the key of it. Besides, we see some persons so stupid, that they inter∣pret the curiosity of knowing a trouble to themselves, and a vice in others: and not only some Philosophers have disclaim'd to know any thing except that they knew nothing; but there have been found many holy personages who made profession of ignorance.

The Second said, All naturally desire to know, but not all things, nor at all times, nor by all the ways that are prescrib'd them; every one would learn after his own mode, and things proportional to his reach: and as when these conditions meet together, they excite the desire; so when any one is wanting, they cause disgust. Thus one is passionately affected to Algebra, which deterr's the wit of another: One matter may please at the beginning, and become distastful into the continuance; and the same subject being treated in familiar discourse will render you attentive, yet displeases you in a more lofty style, which, on the other side, would content some other; wherefore 'tis not to be wonder'd if some minds have reluctancy against the con∣straint which is offer'd to be laid upon them; as the stomack rises when a food which it loathes is tender'd to it, though the appe∣tite of knowing be, in the mean time, no less natural to the soul then that of eating is to the body.

The Third said, That supposing this desire of knowledge not general, it is demanded whence it comes to pass that it is so great in many persons, that some have relinquish'd all their for∣tunes for it, others have spent their whole age in attaining it, others have put out their own eyes the better to attend it, and some lost their lives for it. It seems to me that all of them do

thus for some good. Now good is divided into its three kinds; and correspondently, some do it for profit, fitting themselves to gain themselves a livelihood; others for honour, and to enjoy the prerogatives which knowledge procures to the most learned; others again do it, only for the pleasure which they find in stu∣dy, and not for the sake of knowledge it self: for when we once have attain'd the knowledge of a thing, it affords us de∣light no longer; whence it is that excellent workmen are al∣ways poor; because so soon as they have arriv'd to a perfection of skill they leave all further search to others; their only pleasure was in the acquisition. This pleasure herein resembling all other sorts, which consist only in action, and not in acquiescence or sa∣tisfaction. But may not it also be thus, because our soul being a Number always desires and aimes to perfectionate it self? And as no number can be assign'd so great but that some others may be added to it, even to infinity; so our soul is capable of receiving new light and new notions, to infinity? Or else, as every thing tends to its natural place, so our soul being of cele∣stial original aspire to the infinite knowledge of God by that of finite things.

The Fourth said, That the reason why both young and old desire to know, is, because of the extream pleasure which they take in knowing things. But if some be not inclin'd thereunto, 'tis in regard of the difficulties, which abate indeed, but cannot wholly extinguish their natural ardour. This pleasure is appa∣rent, in that we take delight to know not only true things, but such as we are conscious to be notoriously false; yea sometimes we are more delighted with the latter then the former provi∣ded they have some pretty conceits, as with Stories, Fables and Romances. For there is nothing so small and inconsiderable in nature, wherein the mind finds not incomparable divertise∣ment and delight. The Gods, saith Aristotle, are as well in the least insects as in the most bulky animals; and to despise little things is, in his judgement, to do like children. For, on the contrary, as in Art, the less place a Picture takes up, the more it is esteem'd; and the Iliads of Homer were sometimes the more admir'd for that they were compriz'd in a Nut-shel: so in Na∣ture, the less volumn things are in, the more worthy they are of admiration. Now if there be so much pleasure in seeing the figures and representations of natural things, because we ob∣serve the work-man's industry in them; there is much more con∣tentment in clearly beholding those things themselves, and re∣marking in their essence, proprieties and vertues, the power and wisdom of Nature far transcending that of Art. But if the knowledge of natural things affords us such great delight, that of supernatural ravishes us in a higher measure; and 'tis also much more difficult, because they are remote, from our senses, which are the ordinary conveyances of knowledge: Where∣fore there being pleasure in knowing both great things and small,

natural and supernatural; 'tis no wonder if man, who usually follows delectable Good, takes delight in knowing.

The Fifth said, The Philosopher in the beginning of his Me∣taphysicks proves this Proposition, 1. By Induction, from the senses, which are respectively delighted in their operations; whence we love the sense of Seeing above all the rest, because it supplies us with more knowledge then any one of the rest. 2. Because Man being mindful of the place of his original, de∣sires to raise himself above Plants and the other Animals. By Sense he advances himself above Plants; by Memory above cer∣tain Animals who have none; by Experience above them all; but by the use of Reason, from which proceedeth Science, Men excel one another. For there are Animals which have some sha∣dow of Prudence, but not any hath Science. And, as Seneca saith, men are all equal in their beginning and their end, that is, as to life and death, not differing but in their interval, whereof Science is the fairest Ornament. The cause of this desire of knowing proceeds then from the natural inclination which eve∣ry thing hath to follow its own good. Now the good of Man, as Man, is to know. For as a thing exists not but so far forth as it acts, the Rational Soul (the better part of us) cannot be term'd such, saving inasmuch as it knows; yea Action being the measure not only of being, but also of the perfection of being (whence God, who is most perfect, never ceases to act; and the First Matter which is the most imperfect of all entities, acts ei∣ther little or nothing at all) therefore the Reasonable Soul being the most noble and perfect of all formes, desires to act and em∣ploy it self incessantly in its action, which is the knowledge of things. Indeed every thing strives after its own operation. As soon as the Plant is issu'd out of the earth it thrusts forward till it be come to its just bigness. The Eye cannot without pain be hindred from seeing; Silence causes sadness. And as we see the Boar and the Bull, by an admirable instinct of Nature, the one oppose its forehead, the other its mouth, against such as provoke them, though the former as yet wanteth teeth, and the lat∣ter horns; so the reason and desire of knowing appears very early in children, even before they are capable of much.

The Sixth said, That the Intellect becometh each thing which it understands. Hence Man, the most inconstant of all creatures, is carri'd so ardently to the knowledge of all things, which finding not worthy of him he relinquishes, till he be ar∣riv'd at the knowledge of his Creator, to whom conforming himself he desires to know nothing more, but acquiesces, contemplating in him, as in a mirror, all other things of the World.

The Seventh said, All things were made for the use and be∣hoof of man, and therefore he has reason to desire to know every thing, to the end he may make use of it.

The Eighth said, We have the seeds and treasures of Know∣ledge

hidden in our selves; which longing to be exerted and reduc'd from power into act, incessantly sollicite us to put them forth. Hence comes the desire of knowing, or rather awakning these species which are perfected in us by use, and in time whol∣ly display'd. In which respect Teachers are with good reason compar'd to Mid-wives who do not produce the Infant in the Mother's womb, but lend a helping hand to its coming forth. For Teachers do not infuse knowledge into the children whom they instruct, but only assist them to produce it out of folds and recesses of the mind, in which otherwise it would remain unprofitable, and like matter without form; as the Steel doth not give fire to the Flint, but elicits the same of it. So those natural lights and notices being at first invelop'd with clouds, when their veil is taken away, and they are loosned, as the Pla∣tonists speak, from the contagion of the senses, they extreamly delight those who bore them inclosed in their breast, and needed help to exclude them.

II. Whether ex∣change be more conve∣nient then buying and selling.

Upon the second Point it was said, As Unity is the beginning of Numbers in Arithmetick, and of causes in nature; so com∣munity of goods was no doubt at first amongst men. But be∣cause 'tis the occasion of negligence, and cannot continue long, in regard some are better husbands, more easie to be contented, and need less then others; hence arose the words of Mine and Thine, which are more efficacious then Ours and Yours; since even Monasticks take it for a mortification, and children cry when any thing proper to them is taken from them. In old time, when one had eaten or spent what was his own he re∣pair'd to his neighbour for more, accommodating him with some other thing whereof he stood in need, by way of exchange, the respective value of the things being limited according to their estimation of their goodness and scarcity, in the first place, and then of their beauty or comeliness. And because Oxen and Sheep afforded them the most commodities, as their skins for clothing, and their milk and flesh for food, besides other uses to which they were serviceable, they made all their traffick with Cattle, in which all their wealth consisted. But because 'twas too troublesome a thing for a man to drive always a flock of Sheep before him, or lead a Cow by the horn, for making of payment; the industry of men increasing, they cast their eyes upon that which was in the next degree of most use to them, and most durable; and finding that 'twas Iron and Cop∣per, and especially that the latter was the fairest and easiest to be melted and cast into Kettles and other domestick Utensils, they made choice thereof, mutually giving and receiving it, by weight, for other things they needed, and divided it by pounds, which word still remains amongst us, to signifie twenty shillings, which is very neer the just value that a pound of Copper had in those days. And to save the labour of weighing this pound

and the parts of it, they stamp'd upon one side the figure of a ship, with the weight and value (because Saturn, the inventer of money in Italy, arriv'd there in a ship) and on the other side the pourtait of one of those beasts which are design'd by the word Pecus, whence Money came to be call'd pecunia. After∣wards the Arms of the Prince were substituted in stead of the Ship, and Constantine put a Cross in place of the Beast. Now because, in old Gaulish, a Ship was call'd Pile (whence the word Pilote remains to this day) the side of the Coin on which the Ship was is still call'd Pile, and the other Cross, how different stamps so∣ever have succeeded since. Nevertheless exchange is more univer∣sal then buying and selling, particularly between State and State, transportation of money being generally forbidden, and on∣ly the carrying away of Merchandize for Merchandize allow'd. Moreover, there are more Nations who exercise Commerce by trucking, then there are that make use of Money. It seems al∣so to be more convenient for particular persons, it being more difficult for him that is in necessity to sell what he hath, many times, at a low rate in money, and to buy dearly what he wants, then to give out of his abundance to him that needeth, and re∣ceive from him in consideration thereof what himself wanteth.

The Second said, That Exchange being founded upon Com∣mutative Justice, and introduc'd by the mutual necessities men have of one another, consists in the comparing of things be∣tween themselves; so that according as one thing exceeds ano∣ther in price and value, or else is exceeded by it, the excess or defect of the one side or the other must be equally compensated. To which purpose men make use of two measures, the one na∣tural, and the other artificial. The natural measure is the scar∣city of things compar'd with their publick use. Whence it comes to pass that the less there is of a thing which is greatly us'd, 'tis the dearer; and, on the contrary, the price is diminish'd ac∣cording to the greater plenty thereof. For 'tis not barely the goodness of the thing, nor its rarity or its necessity, that is the cause of its value; but all these together referr'd to its use. So water, which is better and less hurtful to man then wine, is never∣theless of less price. Corn is more necessary then Sugar, yet not so dear; and the rarest Plants, which are no ingredients into the compositions of Physick, scarce find buyers. Now Money is the artificial measure, invented by men, for measuring the price and value of all things, both real and imaginary, moveable and immoveable. These two measures are different, in that the abundance of things diminishes their price; scarcity and defect augments it: but contrarily, the plenty of money enhances the price of things, and its scarcity diminishes it: whence the more money there is in a State, the dearer every thing is; as appears by comparing our Age with that of our Grand-fathers before the discovery of the West Indies; when they were richer and had more Merchandize with a thousand Crowns then we have

now with ten thousand. And on the contrary, the more things there are to exchange, the truck or traffick is the easier; al∣though that's the happiest Country from whence more is export∣ed then imported into it. But because many times the parties could not agree, he that needed an Oxe possessing nothing that lik'd the owner, and some things of too great value being with∣all uncapable of division, as a House or a Ship; therefore they invented money to supply all these defects. This money, in some Countries, consisted of Shells; in others, of precious Stones; elsewhere, of other things; but most commonly of Metal. And although it be not absolutely necessary, yet it is much more convenient then Exchange; for by means thereof a man may do every thing that can be done by permutation, and some thing more. Whence it is, that Princes always prohibit the transportation of it, but that of other things only upon some oc∣casions. For money is, with good reason, said to be every thing potentially.

The Third said, That as it was sometimes doubted whether Caesar's birth were more happy or fatal to the Roman Empire, which he on one side adorn'd with glory and triumphs, and on the other desolated by Civil Wars: so 'tis hard to judge whe∣ther the invention of Gold and Silver Coin hath been more be∣neficial or pernicious to mankind. For 'tis true, it greatly fa∣cilitates Commerce amongst men; but it likewise brings along with it covetousness, and the desire of having it. For whereas at first the most avaritious were forc'd to set bounds to their co∣vetousness, when their Granaries, Sellars and Houses were full; and also when Iron money came in use, it took up almost as much room as the things themselves; now, since the inven∣tion of Gold and Silver Coin, men have begun to reckon by Millions, which give less content to the possessors then pains to acquire, solliciotousness to preserve, and trouble to lose them.

CONFERENCE XL.

I. Of Prognostication or Presaging by certain Animals. II. Why all men love more to command then to obey.

I. Of Divinati∣on by some Animals.

MAn is affected to nothing more passionately then to the Fa∣culty of Divining. Upon this account he paints Pru∣dence, the most necessary of the Cardinal Vertues, with a dou∣ble countenance, one whereof speculates futurity. And be∣cause this knowledge of things to come would rid him of the two most violent passions which perplex him, Fear and Hope, therefore he spares nothing to attain the same. To this end he

employs not only the four Elements, but makes a distinct art of the ways of Prediction by each of them. He makes use of all mixt bodies too, and searches even the bowels of living crea∣tures, yea the very Sepulchres of the dead, in quest of Presages of the future. And although, speaking absolutely, such inven∣tions are more capable to attract the admiration, and conse∣quently the money of credulous persons, then to instruct them (unless perhaps, in prudence, to take care of being so easily de∣ceiv'd afterwards) yet there seems to be a correspondence and connexion between present and future things, as there is be∣tween the pass'd and the present; for as he who perceives the corruption of unburied bodies after a Battle to have infected the air, and begotten the Pestilence, may certainly refer the cause of such Contagion to the War; so he that shall behold a furious War in which great Battles are fought may conjecture an approaching Pestilence. Possibly, if we were as careful to con∣template the changes of all other bodies, Minerals and Vegeta∣bles, we should remark therein Presages as much more infalli∣ble then those of animals, as their actions, being more simple, are likewise more certain; as may be instanc'd in the Mulberry∣tree, which buds not till all the cold weather be pass'd; but be∣cause the Local Motion which is proper to animals, affects us more, thence it becomes also more remarkable.

The Second said, That man must not be forgotten in this Dis∣quisition. For not to speak of Prognostication in his diseases, by means whereof the Physitian gets the esteem of a God, we see old men and other persons so regular in the constitution of their bodies, that they will tell you, beforehand, better then any Al∣manack, by a Tooth-ach, a Megrim, or a Sciatica, what wea∣ther is approaching, whether rain, frost or snow, or fair. This is commonly attributed to the rarefaction or condensation of the peccant humours in their bodies, the same discharging them∣selves upon what part they find weakest (as the weakest are commonly the most oppress'd) and there making themselves felt by their acrimony: but the parties are no longer sensible thereof then that intemperate weather continues, a new dispo∣sition of the air causing a new motion and alteration in the hu∣mours. When Cats comb themselves (as we speak) 'tis a sign of rain; because the moisture which is in the air before the rain, insinuating it self into the fur of this animal, moves her to smooth the same, and cover her body wherewith, that so she may the less feel the inconvenience of Winter; as on the con∣trary, she opens her fur in Summer, that she may the better re∣ceive the refreshing of the moist season. The crying of Cats, Osprey's, Raven's, and other Birds, upon the tops of houses, in the night-time, are observ'd by the vulgar to pre-signifie death to the sick; and those creatures are thought to know the ap∣proach thereof by their cadaverous scent, which appears not to us till after their death, by reason of the dulness of our senses;

it being no less admirable that such carrion Birds smell better then we, then 'tis to see a dog distinguish by his smelling the traces of a Hare, which are imperceptible to us. But it may as well be, that these Birds cry by chance upon the first house where they light, and are heard onely by such as watch in attendance upon persons dangerously sick; they being likewise Birds of but a weak sight, and therefore flying abroad most commonly in the dark. As for the fore-sight of fertility, by the Honeton, and of a calm, by the Halcyon or Kings-fisher, these ought to be referr'd to the same instinct of Nature, which guideth the Spider to weave her nets, and the Swallow to build her neast.

The Third said, There is a close connexion between the su∣perior and inferior bodies, the chain whereof is to us impercepti∣ble, though their consecution be infallible. This was signifi'd by Trismegistus, when he pronounc'd that that which is below is like that which is on high, and therefore 'tis not to be won∣der'd if one be the sign of the other.

The Fourth said, Certain Animals are found under the domi∣nation of one and the same Starr, of which subjection they have some character either external or internal. And 'tis credible that all bodies, especially Plants, have figures or characters of their virtues, either within or without. Thus, they say, those Plants which are prickly, and whose leaves have the shape of a spears poynt, or other offensive armes, are vulnerary; those which have the spots or speckles of a Serpent, are noted to be good against poysons; and all are serviceable for the conservati∣on of such parts, and cure of such diseases as they resemble in figure. In like manner, 'tis probable that the Cock hath a cer∣tain internal character which particularly rank him under the do∣minion of the Sun; and that this is the cause that he crows when his predominant planet possesses one of the three cardinal points of Heaven, in which the same hath most power, namely, in the East, when the light thereof is returning towards him; in the South, at which time he rejoyces to see it at the highest pitch of strength; and at mid-night, because he feels that it is then be∣ginning again to approach to our Hemisphere. But he crows not at sun-set, being sad then for its departure, and for that he is deprived of its light. And, for this reason, in my opinion, the Romans chiefly made use of young Chickens, from which to collect their auguries; because they conceiv'd that being Animals of the Sun, and more susceptible of its impressions, by reason of their tenderness, they were more easily sensible, and consequently afforded more remarkable tokens by their moti∣ons and particular constitution, of the various dispositions of the Sun, in reference to the several Aspects of good and bad Planets, especially of Saturn their opposite. Whence judging, by the dulness and sadness of the Chickens, that the Sun was afflicted by a bad Aspect of Mars or Saturn; they drew a consequence, that since this Luminary, which besides its universal power, was

the Disposer of their fortune with Mars, was found ill dispos'd when they were projecting any design, therefore they could not have a good issue of it. Thus people prognostice a great Famine or Mortality when great flocks of Jayes or Crows forsake the woods; because these melancholy birds, bearing the cha∣racters of Saturn the author of famine and mortality, have a very early perception of the bad disposition of that Planet.

The Fifth said, Thence also it is, that if a flie be found in an Oak-apple, 'tis believ'd that the year insuing will be troubled with wars, because that Insect being alwayes in motion, and troublesome, is attributed to Mars. If a spider be found in the said Excrescence, then a Pestilence is feared, because this Insect hath the characters of malignant Saturn; if a small worm be seen in it, then, this Insect being attributed to Jupiter and Venus, plenty is prognosticated. Now, did we know all the internal or external characters of Animals, we might by their motion and disposition obtain some knowledge of that of their Star, and thence draw some conjectures of futurities. But this cannot be done by the deportments of Men, because these are varied by a thousand businesses, imagination and troubles, and especially by their free Will and Dissimulations; the latter whereof puts them upon outward motions contrary to their internal, and the former carries them, by the sway of their wills, against the course of coelestial impressions.

II. Why Men love more to command then obey.

Upon the Second Point it was said, Man is one of the weakest, but the most ambitious of all Creatures. He accounts himself wor∣thy to command, not onely over all that is below him, but also over all his equals. And did not shame restrain him, he would willingly give his own suffrage for himself, when the person of greatest sufficiency were to be nominated. Hence it is, as I conceive, that we have as many Enemies as Servants, if the Proverb be true. For the Servant accounting himself equally or more able to command then his Master, believes that Nature of Fortune do's him wrong in leaving him in that condi∣tion, and therefore he aspires to change it. The opposition of Contraries contributes also thereunto; for observing the evils which attend such as are reduc'd under the will of another; and on the other side, the content which Masters seem to have while they live at their own discretion, and more easily suffer any evil of their own doing, because every Man can better bear with himself then with another; hereupon they as much de∣sire command as they detest obedience. Now besides all this, the reason why we are so enamor'd of command, is, for that every thing desires to be in action, because all being consists pri∣marily in action. Our Will, accordingly, is forward to exert the act of volition; but it willeth onely by halves, when it is controll'd; and nothing offends us more then when we com∣mand, and no body stirs to obey us; so that some are impa∣tient

of being gain-said, even in things notoriously impertinent or unjust. Witness Philip of Macedon, who having unjustly condemn'd a poor woman, chose rather to pay her condemnati∣on for her to her Adversary, then retract his own judgement. 'Twill perhaps be objected, that there are good Fryars and Nuns, who love better to obey then to command. I answer, that in this act as well as in other mortifications of their appetites, they acknowledge that they under-go very great difficulties; and these prove the truth of the Proposition. Yea, obedience and the resignation of our own will is more hard to observe then Poverty and Chastity; inasmuch as the goods of Fortune and the Body are inferior to those of the Mind.

The Second said, This Question hath no difficulty in the general, since all they who are contented with a servile condi∣tion, make their obedience subservient to their desire of raising a fortune, which may one day enable them to command. Nor is the reason of it less easie. For since no motive is more power∣full to incline the Will of Man then Delight and Profit, no other reason of this desire need be search'd, since superiority affords such sensible pleasure, and conspicuous advantage; com∣mand being, to speak truth, nothing else but an effective power of applying what means we please wherewith to compass our Profit or Delight. But seeing Nature hath establish'd this Law, that Inferior things ought to obey the Superior, the less worthy the more worthy; so that Obedience and Command are the different consonances which compose the Harmony of the world; Whence is it that Man alone raising up the Tones or Notes of his Ambition interrupts the Consort of the Universe, and makes Discord amongst this agreeable Musick? The reason hereof is, that as Nature gives no desires but she also gives pow∣er, so she gives no power without desire. Wherefore having made Man free by a power, to wit, a Will most free and inde∣pendent, she ha's also made him free by Inclination and Desire. Now forasmuch as Obedience is the restriction and modification, or rather an annihilation of, and contrary motion to this Will and desire of freedome, 'tis no wonder that Man so abhors servi∣tude and desires command; because in doing so he most pow∣erfully exercises his will in all its extent.

The Third said, The Will of Man being alwayes mutable, and in perpetual motion, 'tis no marvel if it abhors Obedience which checks its course, deprives it of the means of change, and usually carries it by a retrograde motion against its own incli∣nation. Yea, 'tis an ordinary thing for Men to be averse to do or abstain from any matter whatsoever, onely because it is com∣manded or forbidden; although we had a desire to do it before, or at least it was indifferent to us. Whence arose the Proverb, That Forbidding inflames Appetite; and the more, for that the order which is given us introduces into our Will another strange Will, which, though like and conformable to ours, yet

displeases us, as it is forinsecal; as the motion which would have been natural to the stone, if it had been barely let fall from on high downwards, becomes violent to it when it is cast down.

The Fourth said, This desire proceeds from the love which we bear to our selves, so natural to Man, that it lives first, and dyes last in him. Now Man loving himself more then any else, and love having for its foundation the perfection and merit of the thing lov'd; hence he esteemes himself more perfect, and consequently more worthy to command then any other. And this causes him to desire a thing which he accounts due to him.

The Fifth said, That as some Men are naturally lead to com∣mand, so others are inclin'd of their own accord to obey and serve. The former are call'd, by the Philosopher, Lords and Masters by Nature, having an Heroick Spirit, and capable of governing not themselves onely, but others too; their Bodies being usually weak and delicate, hair fine, and skin smooth and thin. Others are servants by Nature, being strong and sturdy, fit to carry burthens, to undergo labour, and such in∣commodities as attend those who are subject to another's Will; they have also, many times, so little capacity, that they have more of the beast then of the Man; and this by the ordering of Divine Providence, lest having good judgements and quick wits, they might reflect upon the equity or injustice of their Masters com∣mands, and so not execute them as they ought; or lest the con∣sideration of their misery, being thereby alwayes present with them, might render them more unhappy.

The Sixth said, That Man having been created by God for command, as holy writ attesteth, he alwayes retaines the re∣membrance of his original, and would be Master every where. For though the Creatures upon which the dominion given him by God extends, seem to have been refractory to him ever since his sin; yet the most part still acknowledge in him some tokens of their ancient Lord. The otherwise most unruly Horse suffers himself to be manag'd by him, and a troop of Oxen is driven by a Child. The most furious Animals become gentle, and tremble at the occurse of Man's Countenance, because they find therein the characters of Divinity. But as 'tis natural to other Animals to obey Man more perfect then themselves, so it seemes to Man a thing against Nature for the more perfect to obey the less.

The Seventh said, That the desire of commanding hath not place in all, nor at all times. The Master of the Ship willingly resignes the management of the helm to an experienc'd Pilot, and disbanded Souldiers readily suffer themselves to be rally'd and conducted by those whom they judge the most worthy to command them. Others, farr from this desire, submit and tye themselves, by natural inclination, to the pleasure of an other.

Moreover, some Virtues are so heroical and eminent that they win hearts, as it were, by violence, and constrain the most re∣fractory and ambitious to confess that they ought to be obey'd. By this means a multinous multude, impatient of all command, hath been brought to lay down their Armes. But we see some Spirits so free, that nothing can reduce them to obedience, neither Promisings nor threatnings. They have so high and ex∣traordinary a genius, that they will prefer poverty and misery, yea, beggary and torments themselves before obedience, and never stoop to the pleasure and will of any other, although they be but little befriended by Fortune or Nature. Whence is this? Why, sometimes from greatness of Spirit, and oftentimes from a disorderliness of Mind which breaks forth, and is not capable of restraint.

The Eighth said, That in the whole Universe the more noble commands the less, the more potent quality predominates over the rest; In Animals the Soul commands the Body, as the Master his servant, makes it move and act as it pleases; and Man exercises sovereignty over beasts; amongst Men, Reason commands the Appetite; in Oeconomy, the Male, as the more perfect, com∣mands the Female; and, generally, the wise, learned, and vir∣tuous, ought to have the command over the foolish, ignorant, and vicious. For I speak of things as they ought to be. But 'tis otherwise if we consider things as they are. Many times the Appetite over-masters Reason; usually fools and ignorants are the strongest. Wherefore if there be found any one amongst Men that differs as much from others as the Soul from the Body, Man from beast, Reason from the Appetite, the Male from the Female, he ought to command. For, according to Aristotle, Every Man who commands must be of a different Nature from him who obeyes. And as the Shepherd is of another and more excellent Nature then his flock, so he that commands over Men ought to be a God, or at least a Heroe. And can you wonder now that every one would have a good opinion had of himself, and be accounted a Heroe or a God?

CONFERENCE XLI.

I. Of Comets. II. Whether Pardon be better then Revenge.

I. Of Comets.

THe deceitfulness of our senses causes the difficulty of un∣derstanding the nature of Comets. For as some Colours, so some Lights are true, others apparent. Who would not af∣firm, at a distance, that Gloe-wormes, some kind of rotten wood, the scales of certain Fishes, and the eyes of Cats are real fire?

And to get to further then Heaven, who would not believe that the Moon and other Planets have a true light, were it not for the reasons of Astronomy? Nevertheless, Experience con∣vinces us of the contrary on Earth, as well as Reason doth in Heaven. Yet because, in doubtful matters, 'tis best to keep to the common opinion; I concur with that which holds a Comet to be a hot and dry Exhalation inflam'd in the highest Region of the Air, if the Heaven be solid; and amongst the coelestial orbes, in case they be liquid: which Exhalation resembles the un∣ctuosity of a torch newly extinguish'd; which serving for fewel to the fire, which the reflection of the Sun-beams, or the violence of motion excites there, represents the figure according to which the matter is dispos'd to burn, and appears so long to us till its matter be consum'd, unless more be carry'd up which is pro∣per to succeed it.

The Second said, There is little probability that so thin and subtile matter as the afore-mention'd can burn for several moneths together. Considering that the fires of our furnaces con∣sume themselves in less then a day, unless they be recruited with new matter; and that the vast bulk of these Meteors al∣lows us not to imagine that enough can be found for the suste∣nance of so great a flame. For that which appear'd in this City in November 1618. occupied forty degrees of the Firmament, notwithstanding its remoteness from our sight, which alwayes makes things appear less then themselves. And the matter which should be lifted up from the Earth to succeed that which is first consumed would not be inflamed, because it could not arrive to the burning Comet in its first place, by reason of its circular motion, contrary to that of Exhalations which is made in a strait line. Nor is this opinion less inconsistent with the place which they assign, namely, the Heaven; inasmuch as many have been above the Planets, as is evidenc'd by their Parallax. For the Heavens being incorruptible, 'tis impos∣sible to phancy any corruption in them, since that which is Eternal cannot but be incompetible with that which is corrup∣tible. Now that they are Eternal, the regularity of their moti∣ons domonstrates. And although the Apogees and Perigees of the Planets, which are the points of their greatest and least di∣stance from the Earth, are, according to the affirmation of some Astrologers, chang'd above twenty six degrees since Ptolomy's time; yet this permutation of place induces no mu∣tation of substance. Nor can a Comet be the reflexion or oc∣currence of the light of some Planets, as those Meteors are which we call la Rose and le Soldat; for then no Comet could last longer then such occurse, which is but momentaneous, by reason of the continual motion of the Planets; besides that they might be as certainly prognosticated as Eclipses. But for∣asmuch as there are some things which we know no further then by negation, I conceive it more easie to say what a Comet is not, then to determine what it is.

The Third said, A Comet is onely an appearing, not a real light; and 'tis produc'd by the darting of the Sun-beams through an Exhalation, which is fit for this purpose by its sub∣stance somewhat thin in the surface for intromitting the beams, and dense within for reflecting them, and giving them the colour of fire; like as when the Sun casting his rayes upon the clouds, at Morning or Evening, gives them a ruddy colour. And ac∣cording as those are united or compacted, enlighned by the Sun, or regard several quarters of the world; so the Comets have different shapes or figures, which ought no more to aston∣ish us then these of the Clouds; which according to their con∣junction together represent innumerable formes; or at least then those of other fiery Meteors, variously figur'd according to the casual occurrence of the matter which composes them. Therefore Scaliger in his Exercitations holds that Comets are neither signes nor causes of the events which follow them, and derides those who believe that they fore-shew the death of Great Persons, or that destruction of Nations and Kingdomes; alledging that many great Great Men have dy'd, yea, many Illustrious Fami∣lies and States been destroy'd, without the appearance of any Comet; and, on the contrary, that many Comets have appear'd, and no such accidents ensu'd.

The Fourth said, That Comets are certain Stars whose mo∣tion is unknown to us, and who being rais'd very high in their Apogaeum, remain for a long time invisible. This is of no un∣frequent observation in Mars, who, as many Astrologers affirm, is at some times lower then the Sun; and at other times so high above the rest of the Planets superior to his sphere, that his body remains hid when his opposition to the Sun ought to render it most conspicuous. In like sort, those Stars which God reserves as instruments of the greatest events, which he hath fore-or∣dain'd to come to pass in the Universe, remain a long time elevated in their Apogaeum, till they come at length to descend towards the Earth; from whence, as soon as they begin to ma∣nifest themselves, they attract great quantity of vapours; which receiving the light variously, according to the nature of the places whence they were rais'd, represent to us sundry shapes of hairy and bearded Stars, or in form of a Dart, Sword, Dish, Tub, Horns, Lamps, Torches, Axes, Rods, and such others, as it falls out. And although those Stars incessantly act, yet coming to be produc'd anew, and being nearer the Earth, their effects are augmented and become more sensible. As the Fish ceases neither to be nor to move when it is in the bottome of the Sea, yet it appears not to us to have either existence or motion, un∣less when it comes near the surface of the Water.

The Fifth said, that Comets must needs be some extraordinary things, since they alwayes presignifie strange events, especially in Religion. Histories observe that of sixty six Comets which have appear'd since the Resurrection of our Saviour, there is

not one but hath been immediately follow'd by some disorder or division in the Church, caus'd by Persecutions, Schismes or He∣resies. That which Josephus relates to have appear'd over the Temple of Jerusalem, and lasted a year (contrary to the custom of others, which exceed not sixty days) was follow'd by the ruine of Judaism. That of which Seneca speaks to have ap∣pear'd in Nero's time, was the forerunner of the Heresies of Ce∣rinthus and Ebion. That of the year 1440 foreshew'd the He∣resie of Nestorius. That of the year 1200, the division caus'd by the Waldenses and Albingenses. And lastly, those which have been seen since the year 1330 have sufficiently manifested the truth of this effect by the multiplicity of Sects wherewith Chri∣stendom abounds at this day. But especially, the thirty Comets which have appear'd in France since the year 1556 (four of which were in the same year, namely, in the year 1560) but too well witness the verity of their presignifications, which (as S. Augu∣stine saith) are ordinarily fulfill'd before the same are known by men.

The Sixth said, That as in all things else, so in Comets, the magnitude demonstrates the vehemence and considerableness of the future event. The colour signifies the nature of the Planet under whose dominion it is. The splendor or brightness shews the quick and effectual activity thereof, as its less lively colour testifies the contrary. The Form is a Celestial character or hic∣roglyphick, denoting an effect in the earth; as if God spoke to us by signs, or writ to us after the mode of China, where the figures of things stand for letters, not contenting himself to de∣stinate to this purpose the combinations of the Planets with the other Stars, which are the next causes of all natural effects here below. The place of the Air, or of Heaven, namely, the sign of the Zodiack wherein the Comet is, serves to design the Country which is threatned by it; and if it be in a falling House, it signifies sudden death. Its motion from West to East indi∣cates some forreign enemy, whose coming is to be fear'd. If it move not at all, 'tis a sign that the enemy shall be of the same Land upon which the Meteor stops; so likewise if it goes in twenty four hours from East to West; because this motion is imputed to the first mover which hurries along withall the other Celestial Bodies. Their effects also belong to the places towards which their hairs or tails incline. Those which appear at day-break, and continue long, have their effects more sud∣den; those of the evening, and of less continuance, later. They are especially of great importance when they are found with any Eclipse: and the Precept which Ptolomy and his Interpreters en∣joyn principally to observe, is, that those are deceiv'd who be∣lieve that every Comet signifies the death of some great person; but they only hold, that as when the fiery Planets rise at day∣break, as so many attendants on the Sun, he that is then born shall be a King; so when a Comet is the fore-runner of the Sun

at day-break, it signifies the death of some great person.

The Seventh said, That Comets do not so much foretel as cause Dearths and Famines, Wars and Seditions, burning Fe∣vers, and other diseases, by the inflammation which they impress upon the Air, and by it upon all other bodies, and most easily up∣on our spirits. For seeing, twinkling, and falling Stars, are signs of great drought and impetuous winds, when they shoot from several parts of Heaven; how much more are those great fiery Meteors which we contemplate with such sollicitude, and which act no less by conceit upon our souls then by their quali∣ties upon our bodies. Which being found to have place in those of delicate constitutions, as great persons are, occasion'd the opinion that those grand causes exercise their effects most powerfully upon people of high rank; besides, that the acci∣dents which befall such persons are much more taken notice of, then those of the vulgar. But herein there is found less of de∣monstration then of conjecture.

II. Whether Pardon be better then Revenge.

Upon the second Point it was said, That there is none but prizes an action of clemency and forgiveness more then an acti∣on of vengeance. But all the difficulty is to distinguish what is done through fear from what proceeds from greatness of mind. Thus, when a Lyon vouchsafes not to rise for a Cat or little Dog that comes neer him, but employs his strength only against some more stout creature, this disdain is not call'd cowardize. But, when a man doth not revenge himself, if it be through in∣ability 'tis prudence; if through fear, 'ts pusillanimity. Yet Alexander was deceiv'd herein; for when two Dogs of extraor∣dinary stature were presented to him, by a person who made great account of their courage, and he saw that one of them did not defend himself against other Dogs, he commanded him to be kill'd; and would have done as much by the other, had not he who presented them alledg'd that the Dog's neglect of revenging himself proceeded from eontempt of his opposers. Whereupon the King caus'd a mad Bull to be turn'd loose to the other Dog, who finding a subject fit to shew his courage upon, flew upon him and tore him in pieces. It appears therefore that there is some resemblance in the action of him who for∣bears through poorness of spirit to revenge himself, and of him who doth it through greatness of courage. The sole difference consists in the power which the latter hath to vindicate himself, and the others wants. 'Tis demanded which of the two is most honourable in him who is able to do either; I conceive Pardoning the more honourable; not only, because it includes in it self the power of revenge; but because it shews a greater strength to overcome one's self then the strongest things in the world, and so become master, generally, of bodies and minds together.

The Second said, That although at the first view it may seem

that a man ought rather be inclinable to Pardon then Venge∣ance, because Nature hath for this purpose furnish'd him with Reason as his principal weapon, to which Forgiveness is an acti∣on particular, as proceeding from ratiocination, or, at least, from humanity; yet the desire of Revenge hath not been given us by Nature for a useless faculty, and such as ought not to be reduc'd into act. For this Desire is so great in us that it extends even to inanimate things. And to pass by the follies of Xerxes who caus'd the Sea to be beaten with stripes, and writ a chal∣lenge to mount Athos, in revenge of the fear which they had given him, and that of Cyrus who amuz'd his whole Army a long time, about the river of Gnidus, for the same cause: do we not see that little children are pacifi'd when the table which hurt them is beaten, and that Gamesters many times tear the Cards in pieces with their teeth, and cast the Dice out of the window, to be reveng'd of their loss? Hence Anaxagoras said that even they who pardon always revenge themselves, because the satis∣faction given them, or their remission of an offence, supplies the place of punishment.

The Third said, 'Tis indeed natural to man, with all other living creatures, to preserve himself; which cannot be done but by repelling the injuries which are offer'd to us; nor this, but by revenge: For an injury is like fire which burns and reduces all into ashes unless it be timely remedied; one tolerated pro∣duces another, and by degrees brings us into the scorn of the world. Therefore the Divine Law agrees with the Lex Talio∣nis, or Law of Requital, eye for eye, tooth for tooth. And as this vengeance is one of the principal qualities which God re∣serves to himself, so it is one of the chief parties both of pub∣lick and private justice. He who is remiss in revenging affronts done him, is injust; first to himself, in being careless of main∣taining his honour; and then to others, in that he suffers the re∣spect to be violated which men owe one to another; yea, to him too who offends him, because he gives him encouragement to do as much to others, while he findes he may do so without impunity.

The Fourth said, That Revenge is an encroachment upon the Authority of Laws both Divine and Humane; God hath re∣serv'd it to himself, wherewith to defend us; and yet himself revengeth no further then to four Generations, and pardons to a thousand. He hath as strictly bound us to forgiveness as to our own safety, since he permits us to pray to him daily for no more pardon then what we grant to those who offend us. Moreover, he who takes satisfaction in stead of executing it cannot more palpably declare the ill opinion he hath of the Laws under which he lives, and which he annihilates as far as lyes in his power. 'Tis this accursed Mis-conceit which hath opened so wide a door to our duels and re-encounters, as can hardly be shut at this day by many Ordinances and Edicts. And if it im∣ports

the publick, as the Lawyers hold, That no man abuse his own goods; how much less his life, whereof he hath but the use, and which is due to the service of his God and his King. Add hereunto, that as every thing which is violent is an enemy to Nature, and of no long duration; so people seldom find con∣straints and rigours to answer their purpose; Man never suffers himself to be wholly subdu'd and bound, no more then the Oxe, saving by the strongest part, the one by the horns, the other by the will. Which caus'd Livia, the wife of Augustus, when she saw that the more he punish'd those who conspir'd against him the more new enemies he procur'd to himself, to advise her husband to try upon Cinna, one of them, whether pardon would not have better effect then Proscription. He did so, and this Conspirator became thereby so great a lover of the Emperour, that he afterwards merited by his services to be made his heir.

The Fifth said, That there ought to be made a distinction of conditions; because 'tis as dangerous in a publick person to be gentle and merciful, as 'tis commendable in a private. The mildness of a Judge towards a Robber is cruelty to the pub∣lick; impunity being the Nurse of Vice. Moreover, among private persons too, their several professions are considerable. Socrates purposing to make himself an example of moderation had reason to slight the kicks that were given him, as he would have done the winsings of an Ass. But the Captain that should suffer so much must have otherwise given the world such testi∣mony of his valour, as to avoid the imputation of cowardize. And, therefore, that man had no bad conceit, who seeing his friend perplex'd for that he understood by the Horoscope of his two children, that one of them would be the greatest coward, and the other the greatest thief in the world, counsell'd him to make the one a Church-man, and to put the other to a profession whereunto the word Larron is an Epithete, being the latter would thereby turn the prediction into a mockery; and the de∣fect of courage in the other would be attributed to the gentle∣tleness whereunto Ecclesiasticks are more oblidg'd then any others.

The Sixth said, That without some vengeance we should not understand what Forgiveness means, as God's justice is that which sets off his mercy. Wherefore being these two actions mutually contribute to either's lustre, it cannot be known which of the two is absolutely to be preferr'd before the other; but it lies in the power of prudence to determine according to the va∣riety of cases.

CONFERENCE XLII.

I. Of the Diversity of Languages. II. Whether is to be preferr'd, a good stature or a small.

I. Of the diver∣sity of Lan∣guages.

WE have two notable examples in the Scripture; one of God's displeasure, when the Builders of the Tower of Babel were separated by the confusion of their Language; the other of his favour, when the Apostles were at the feast of Pente∣cost, as it were, united and incorporated into all Nations by the gift of Tongues. Here we only adore Mysteries but fathom them not; we seek the natural causes of the variety of speech, and whether, as there was but one at the first, so the same may be recover'd again, or any other found that may be universal to all people. As to the first, the variety alone of the Organs seems sufficient to diversifie speech. Those Nations whose wind∣pipes were more free easily retain'd the Hebrew aspirations, if so be this Language were the first, and not the Syriack, as some hold, alledging that its characters speak greatest antiquity; or the Samaritane, because the Thorath, which is the law of God, was written in it, as also the most ancient Medals found in Pa∣lestine were stamp'd with it. They whose breasts were more robust fram'd the German and other Languages, which are pro∣nounc'd with greater impetuosity: the more delicate made the Greek Tongue; the middle sort, the Latine; and their posteri∣ty, degenerating, the Italian, which is pronounc'd only with the outer part of the lips: and so of all the rest. Whence it is that strangers never pronounce our Language perfectly, nor we theirs; which caus'd Scaliger to tell a German who spoke to him in Latine, but pronounc'd it after his own way, that he must ex∣cuse him, for he did not understand Dutch. Now every one of these Original Languages was chang'd again proportionably to the distance from its centre, as circles made by a stone cast into the water lose their figure as they become wider. After∣wards hapned the transplantations of Nations, who with the confusion of blood and manners brought also that of speech; for the Conquerours desiring to give Law to the vanquish'd as well in this as in all other things, and the Organs of the peo∣ple being unapt for the pronuntiation of a forreign tongue, hence of the mixture of two arose a third. Thus much for the first point. But as for the second, which is to reduce all Lan∣guages to one, I hold the thing impossible. For all things which are meerly of humane institution, as Language is, are as different as opinions are. And if one and the same Tongue hath sundry very different Idiomes and Dialects, as the French hath the Breton, the Gascon, the Poitevin, the Parisian, and ma∣ny others, as different as the French from the Italian (which

hath in like manner the Roman, the Tusean, the Neapolitan, and the Sicilian, all very differing) with much more reason shall Na∣tions divided by Seas and Climates speak diversely. The opi∣nions of men, even of Philosophers themselves, touching the same subject, could never be reconcil'd; and can it be imagin'd that all tongues should ever agree? Nature affects nothing so much as variety, which serves for discrimination of individuals. Two men never writ or spake alike; and we see that even the gestures and postures of others cannot be perfectly imitated by those who use their utmost care therein; how then shall confor∣mity be found in the expression of our thoughts? besides, there being no connexion or affinity between things and words, which not onely signifie several things in several Languages, but have different acceptions in the same Language, wit∣ness Homonymous words, 'tis loss of time to think of such a designe.

The Second said, That to judge of a River, it must be ta∣ken at its source. Languages are the several ways of interpret∣ing or declaring our conceptions; and these are the means which our mind makes use of to conceive the species or images of things. It knows them according as they are represented to it; and they are represented to it according to the truth of the object, when the conditions requisite to sensation or perception by sense concur, namely, a due disposition of the object, medium, and Organ. As therefore when all these conditions are right, it cannot be but all persons of the world must agree in one and the same judgement, and all say (e. g.) that this Rose is red, and that other white; so it may seem that men should agree toge∣ther in the copy and transcript, since they do so in the Proto∣type; that is, have one and the same Language, since they have one and the same conception. Otherwise, as to this communi∣cation with his own species, man will be inferior to other ani∣mals, who signifie their passions and inclinations so plainly and intelligibly among themselves that they answer one the other afar off? Moreover, abundance of words are the express and natural image of the things designed by them, as Taffata, to hisse, to creak or clash, to bounce, to howle or yell, and many others. There are words which keep the same number of letters in all the learned Languages, particularly the name of God; which holds also in some modern, as in the French, Dutch, &c. but not in ours. There are others, which vary not at all, but are one and the same among all Nations; as the word Sac. Many things express'd by the same characters in writing are read by each people in their own Tongue, as Figures, or Cyphers, which are read and pronounc'd otherwise in Hebrew, and Greek, then in Latine or French, and yet they are taken by all to signifie the same thing. The same may be said of the Hieroglyphicks and letters of China, yea of all the figures of the Mathematicks. For every one knows a Circle, a Triangle, and a Square, although

each Nation denominate the same diversly. What hinders then but as all Nations have conspir'd and agreed together in those visible words, so they may do too in those which are pronounc'd?

The Third said, That to the end words may make things un∣derstood by all the world, they ought to be signs of them; ei∣ther natural, as smoak is of fire, or by institution, depending upon a very intelligible principle or occasion, as when a Bush denotes a Tavern. As for the first, many dumb persons ex∣press their conceptions so genuinely by signs that all the world understands them; and the Mimicks and Pantomimes of Rome were so excellent in this kind, that Roscius (one of them) some∣times bid defiance to Ciero, that he would express as perfectly by his gestures and postures, whatsover he pleas'd, as that in∣comparable Orator could do by his words. And as those who are not given to writing have the best memories, so those who have not that use of speech are more excellent then others in speaking by signs and understanding them; there being seen in our days a dumb man who answer'd pertinently to all that was spoken to him, only by beholding the motion of the speaker's lips: which is also the reason why blind men, attending only to improve the sense of Hearing, best observe all differences of speech. Whence I draw this consequence, that the same may be practis'd in all other things which signifie by humane institu∣tion, and so there may be an universal Language. But the easi∣ness every one finds in making himself understood by the Lan∣guage and Writing which is familiar to him, renders men care∣less of advancing this excellent Design, which would be a means to spare the best time which our youth spends in learning the words of strange Tongues, instead of applying themselves solely to the knowledge of things.

The Fourth said, That the possibility of this Project appears, in that there is an order in nature, or, at least, consequent to the very nature of things, according to which we may place, next after the Creator the created spiritual substances, then the corpo∣real (one after another, according to their dignity) particularly the corporeal according to their place, as the Heavens first, and in them the Stars, according to their dignity; the Earth and its Animals, the Sea and its Fishes; the Plants according to their magnitudes; those which are equal therein, according to their vertues, and other accidents: doing the same, with Metals, Minerals, bodies perfectly and imperfectly compounded by na∣ture and by art, and with the Elements: then we may come to the Categories of accidents to which every thing in the world may be reduc'd and put in its right place. Whereby it is evi∣dent that not only all things have their order but also that he who learns them according to this order, easily avoids confusi∣on, the mother of ignorance. It remains, now, to find out an order of words too, which answers to that of things; the first

to the first, and the second to the second; which order is so na∣tural to them, that children make use of it to find out every thing which they seek in Dictionaries and Lexicons according to the order of the Alphabet. And I know not whether we ought not to begin this handsome gradation and situation of all things in their rank, correspondent to the order of the letters, with the style that God gives himself, Alpha and Omega. But it can∣not but be admir'd that the first combination of the letters makes Ab and Aba, which signifies Father, the first place being due to the Author and Father of all things.

II. Whether is to be preferr'd a great Stature or a small.

Upon the second Point, it was said, That largeness of body seems to be preferrable, as well because the word Magnitude or Grandeur always includes some perfection in it self, as be∣cause the Gods were anciently represented of a size exceeding the ordinary. Which made Aristotle say, that not only the greatness of the Heroes render'd them famous of old, but that their Figures and Statues are venerable at this day. Moreover, we see that Saul, the first King chosen by God for his own peo∣ple, was taller by the head then all the rest of the Israelites. And amongst the conditions of Beauty, magnitude so universal∣ly holds the first place, that women advance themselves upon high Shooes, and Patins, that they may seem the handsomer. How well shap'd soever a little man be, he is never of so maje∣stical a presence as one that is taller. Whence you see little men affect to seem greater, but never any tall men desire to be less. Now the same Proportion which is between a Man and his ha∣bitation, is found between the soul and the body which is its Mansion. For as he who hath the largest house will be account∣ed to be better lodg'd then he who dwells in a Cottage, though they be persons otherwise of equal condition; so 'tis probable, that souls (which are all equal) find themselves better lodg'd in a great body then in a small, and exercise all their functions with much more freedom.

The Second said, That if magnitude put the value upon men, the same should hold in animals: nevertheless, the Elephant yields to the Fox, yea to the Pismire; the Estrich to the Night∣ingale; and the Whale is the most stupid of all Fishes. Moreover, nothing hinders the divine operations of the soul but the load of the body, whereby the imperfection of our nature places us below the wholly incorporeal Intelligences; and therefore the less the body is, the neerer we approach the Angelical nature, and our spirit is less impeded by the matter. Hence little men are not only the most quick-witted, but also the most active and nimble; for that the strength is more united in them, and dif∣fus'd and dissipated in others. Great and robust bodies, as be∣ing fitter for labour, were made to obey the small and tender, which have more spirit then flesh. Whence the Romans gave the Civil and Military charges to little men, and sent the

greater to guard the Baggage, as those who gave the enemies more aim then the less. Nor are the greater more proper for other Arts; which made the Poet say as a thing impossible, Sambucam potiùs caloni aptaveris alto.—And Samuel was re∣prov'd by God for offering to prefer the tall Stature of the eldest son of Jesse before the small size of David his youngest, as if the Israelites had been displeas'd with the large body of Saul. The Poets could not represent an enraged Cyclops, and furious Ajax, but under great bodies, as, on the contrary, they made Ʋlysses very small. And indeed natural Reasons agree well herein. For amongst the causes of the bodie's growth, the material is a slimy or viscous humidity; whence Fish grow most, and in shortest time. This Humidity is, as it were, Glew or Bird-lime to the soul, hindring it from exercising its functions freely: and therefore women, being more humid, have less wit then men; and Fish are less disciplinable then the rest of animals. The ef∣ficient is a very gentle heat; for were it too great it would con∣sume the matter in stead of dilating and fashioning it, and dry the solid parts too much, upon the increasing of which depends that of the rest of the body. This is the reason why all gelt ani∣mals grow most, and amongst Birds of prey the females are al∣ways greater then the males; the excess of their heat being temper'd by the humidity of their Sex; and young persons are found to have grown extraordinarily after Quotidian Agues which are caus'd by Phlegme; so that it is not hard for such per∣nicious causes to produce a good effect.

The Third said, That every thing is to be commended and esteem'd according to the use for which it is appointed. Now Man being born for Reason and the functions of the Mind, and having receiv'd a Body to be an instrument to him of Knowledg by making a faithfull report to him of what passes without, by means of the species convey'd through the senses into the phancy: Upon which the Intellect making reflection formes the like in it self, and thus all Notions are produc'd; it follows that nei∣ther the great stature nor the little are to be esteem'd. But 'tis demanded, Which of the two is the less evil; I conceive, with the Physitians, that the great is less incommodious in youth, as being then more proper for exercises, whose toyle it can bet∣ter under-go, especially those of Warr. And therefore when Marius levy'd Souldiers, he suffer'd none to pass the Muster but such as could not walk under a measure rais'd six foot from the ground. But in old age, when the natural heat is more languid, and consequently less able to discharge all its functions in a large Body, the small size is best: And little old men are never so crooked as others; besides that their coldness serves to mo∣derate the ardour of the choler which is attributed to little men, because their spirits having not so much room to run about, agi∣tate them sooner, and more violently then others.

The Fourth said, As every living thing hath bounds of its

perfection, so it hath of its greatness or smallness; which, if it exceeds or falls short of, 'tis held monstrous and besides Nature, as Gyants and Dwarfes. But because this term of magnitude hath a great latitude, 'tis hard to know, precisely, which is the least or greatest stature whereunto Man may naturally attain; and which is the middle, and consequently who deserve the name of great or little; considering that the same is various, ac∣cording to places and climates, and according to every one's par∣ticular temper or first conformation, which ordinarily follows the proportion which the seed of the Father and Mother bears with the Idea of their species, if the too great or too little quan∣tity of the matter, or the capacity of the place permit. For the Northern people are large, the Southern small. Those between the 28. and the 38. climate are of middle stature; and one that would be call'd a tall person among the little, will be accounted little among the tall. Constitutions likewise contribute very much hereunto. Those who are dry by Nature are usually small. Such as are too moist grow more in thickness then in the other dimension; it being the property of humidity not to mount easily upwards, unless it be accompany'd with heat; for then the Agent and the Patient being rightly dispos'd to extend every part, the whole is augmented. Therefore as the Phegmatick temper is most prone to fatness, so the sanguine contributes to tallness; especially if the persons live idly and feed well. Hence it is that the men before the Deluge are noted by the Scripture to have been Gyants, because they lead idle, and voluptuous lives. As, on the contrary, Fasting, Watching, and immoderate Labour in the time destinated for men to grow, which reaches not much beyond twenty five years of age, hinder the attaining of the just measure intended by nature; which Divines refer to that of Adam and our Saviour; as their bodies were also the rule of the proportion which our members ought to have one to another, and the temper of their humours the standard of ours: whence they were the healthfullest and goodliest of all men: but they were of tall stature.

CONFERENCE XLIII.

I. Of the Philosopher's stone. II. Of Mont de piete, or charitable provision for the Poor.

I. Of the Phil∣sopher's stone.

THe Poets, not without reason, feign'd that the gods left hope to men in the bottom of Pandora's box, after all their other goods were flown out of it. For nature being unwilling to shew her self a Step-mother to man hath made such provi∣sion, that the almost infinite unhappy accidents of life cannot so

much cast him down on one hand, as hope raises him up on the other. And, not to speak of that first of Christian virtues, which accompanies him even in death, and serves him for an Anodyne in all his miseries; is he under the rod, he comforts him∣self with hope to get free from it; is he of mean extraction, he hopes to ennoble himself by his exploits; is he poor, he en∣courages himself to labour with the possibility of becoming rich; is he sick, the hope of recovery supports his fainting Spi∣rits; yea, when ordinary means fail him, he is not out of heart. But if there be any thing worthy of laughter to those who cannot apprehend it, or of admiration to him that will further philosophize about the odd motions of humane minds, this is one, how 'tis possible that an old, decrepit, poor, diseased per∣son, should nevertheless not despair of having the train of a Prince one day; and not onely hope to be cur'd, but to become a young man again. Yet all this is phancy'd by the seekers of the Philosophers stone, which is the grand work, the Pana∣cea, the Elixir, and the Universall Restaurator. Now this most extravagant conceit, joyn'd to the other absurdities of that Chimerical Art, makes me believe that it is good for nothing but to serve for imaginary consolation to the miserable.

The Second said, That the Chymists who exercise it, are of two sorts. Some by their sophistications give tinctures to Me∣tals which they promise to transmute by their mixture, fixation, cementation, and other operations. Others, who are call'd the true Sons of Art, do not amuse themselves about particular things, but solely about the grand work; at which they all aime, though by several courses. Some think to attain it by blowing, and usually make a mixture of Quick-silver and Gold, which they keep nine moneths in a small furnace over the flame of a lamp. Some conceive, that 'tis a very plain operation, (terming it Children's work) and that there needs onely the knowledge of the matter, the fire, the vessel, and the manner; the rest being done of it self. Yet others attribute this work onely to Revelation, saying that the Artist must onely pray to God; and they believe it is mention'd in the Holy Scripture, where it is said, That much clay is requisite to the making of pots, but onely a little dust to the making of Gold; that 'twas this Wisedom which made Solomon so rich, that, by the testimo∣ny of Scripture, Gold was common in his dayes as stones; that the Gold of Ophir was that which this Philosophical stone had transmuted, far more excellent then the natural; and that the ships he set forth to fetch it were onely parables and figures; like the golden fleece, which was nothing but a parchment wherein this secret was written. But most hold an opinion com∣pos'd of these two, saying, that the Manual operation must be assisted by extraordinary favour from Heaven. I conceive, with them, that there is such a thing as the Philosophers stone, or, at least, that it is possible; that Salt is its matter, and Motion its

fire. For since these two are found every where, this property agrees very well to them; Salt being extracted out of all Bodies, and Heat proceeding from their friction one against another, in imitation of that which the Heavens excite here below.

The Third said, The Philosophers stone is a Powder of Pro∣jection, a very little of which being cast upon imperfect Metals, (as all are, except Gold) purifies and cures them of their Leprosie and impurity, in such a manner, that having first taken away their feculency, and then multiply'd their degrees, they acquire a more perfect nature: Metals not differing among themselves, but in degrees of perfection. It is of two sorts; the white, which serves to make Silver; and the red, which being more con∣cocted is proper to make Gold. Now to attain it, you need onely have the perfect knowledge of three things, to wit, the Agent, the Matter, and the Proportion requisite to the end the Agent may educe the form out of the bosome of that Matter, duly prepar'd by the application of actives to passives. The first two are easie to be known. For the Agent is nothing else but Heat, either of the Sun or of our common fire, or of a dung∣hill, which they call a Horse's belly, or of Balneum Mariae, (hot water) or else that of an Animal. The patients are Salt, Sulphur, or Mercury, Gold, Silver, Antimony, Vitriol, or some little of such other things, the experience whereof easily shews what is to be expected from them. But the Application of the Agent to the Patient, the determination of the degrees of Heat, and the utmost preparation and disposition of the Matter, cannot be known but by great labour and long experience: Which being difficult, thence we see more delusions and impostures in this Art then truths. Nevertheless Histories bear witness, that Hermes Trismegistus, Glauber, Raimond Lully, Arnauld, Flamel, Trevisanus, and some others, had knowledge of it. But because for those few that are said to have it, almost infinite others have been ruin'd by it, therefore the search of it seemes more curious then profitable.

The Fourth said, That as Mathematicians have by their search after the Quadrature of a circle arriv'd to the knowledge of many things which were before unknown to them; so though the Chymists have not discover'd the Philosophers stone, yet they have found out admirable secrets in the three families of Vegetables, Animals, and Minerals. But it not the less possible, although none should ever attain it, not onely for this general reason, that Nature gives us no desire in vain, but particularly because all Metals are of the same species, being made of one and the same Matter, (Sulphur and Mercury) and concocted by one and the same celestial heat; not differing but in concoction alone, as the grains of the same raisin do, which ripen at several times. This is evident by the extraction of Gold and Silver out of all Metals, even out of Lead and Iron, the most imperfect of them. So that the Art ought not to be judg'd inferior in this matter to

all others which it perfectionates. Moreover, the Greek Ety∣mology of Metals shews that they are transmutable one into another.

The Fifth said, That as in the production of Corn by Nature, the seed and the fat of the Earth are its matter, and its efficient is partly internal, included in the grain, and partly external, viz. the heat of the Sun, and the place in the bosome of the Earth; so in the production of Gold by Art, its matter is Gold it self and its Quick-silver; and the efficient cause, is partly, in the Gold, partly in the external heat; the place is the furnace, containing the Egg of Glass, wherein the matter is inclos'd, dissolve'd and grows black, call'd the Crowes head, waxes white, and then is hard∣ned into a red mass, the hardness whereof gives it the name of a stone; which being reduc'd into powder, and kept three dayes in a vessel hermetically seal'd upon a strong fire, acquires a pur∣ple colour; and one dram of it converts two hundred of Quick∣silver into pure Gold; yea, the whole Sea, were it of like substance.

The Sixth said, That Art indeed may imitate, but cannot sur∣pass Nature. But it should, if we could change other metals into Gold; which is impossible to Nature it self, even in the Mines, in how long time soever; those of Iron, Lead, Tin, or Copper, never becoming Mines of Gold or Silver. Therefore much less can the Alchymist do it in his furnaces, no more then he can produce some thing more excellent then Gold, as this Philosophical stone would be; Gold being the most perfect com∣pound of all mixt bodies, and for that reason incorruptible. And indeed how should these Artists accomplish such a work, when they are not agreed upon the next matter of it, nor upon the ef∣cien tcause, time, place, and manner of working; there being as many opinions as there are different Authors. Moreover, 'tis untrue that all Metals are of one species, and differ onely in degree of concoction; for Iron is more concocted then Silver, as also more hard, and less fusible; and their difference was ne∣cessary in reference to humane uses. Now perfect species which are under the same next genius, as Metals are, can never be transmuted one into another, no more then a Horse into a Lyon. Yea, could this Philosophical stone act upon Metals, yet it would not produce Gold or Silver, but other stones like it self, or one∣ly imprint upon them its own qualities, according to the ordi∣nary effects of all natural Agents. And if it were true that the powder of Gold produc'd other Gold, being cast upon Metals, as a grain of wheat brings forth many others being cast into the Earth; it would be requisite to observe the same order and progress in the multiplication of Gold which Men do in that of grains of Wheat. Yet the Chymists do not so, but will have their multiplication to be made in an instant.

The Seventh said, That since Art draws so many natural ef∣fects out of fitting matter, as Worms, Serpents, Frogs, Mice,

Toads and Bees; although the subject of these Metamorphoses be much more difficult to be dispos'd and made susceptible of a sensitive soul then insensible metal is to receive a Form divisible like its matter; he saw no absurdity in it, but that at least by the extraordinary instruction of good or bad spirits some know∣ledge of this operation may be deriv'd to men; considering, that we see other species naturally trans-form'd one into another, as Egyptain Nitre into stone, a Jasper into an Emerald, the herb Basil into wild Thyme, Wheat into Darnel, a Caterpiller into a Butter-fly: yea, if we will believe the Scotch, they have a Tree, whose fruit falling into the water is turn'd into a Bird.

II. Of a Mont de Pieté or Bank for lending to the Poor.

Upon the second Point it was said, That Charity toward our Neighbour being the most certain sign of Piety towards God; and Hills having been chosen almost by all Nations to sacrifice upon, as neerest to Heaven; upon these accounts the name of Mont de Pieté hath been given to all institutions made for relief of the poor; whereof lending money for their necessity being one of the principal effects, the publick places establish'd for that use retain this name in sundry parts of Italy, Flanders, and many other States; and some have been erected in all Cities of this Kingdom, by the King's Edict of February 1626. and the more willingly because Popes were the first Institutors of them; as that at Rome was instituted by Clement VII. in the year 1526. and increas'd by Paul III. and Sixtus V. that of Avignon by Paul IV. and others by Pius V. and Julius III. Now be∣cause it is not reasonable to lend without security, and the poor ordinarily give not any but their moveables, therefore the name of Mont de Pieté is attributed only to the lending upon Pledges or Pawnes. But to the end this Institution might merit the name bestow'd upon it, it were to be desir'd that this loan were gratuitous and free, according to the Gospel precept, Lend, hoping for nothing again (Luke 6. 35.) conformably to the anci∣ent Law of God, which forbad the Jews to take any thing of their Brethren, besides the principal sum. But to make even for this, they have every where practis'd such excessive Usury towards all other Nations, that the same is turn'd into a Pro∣verb, to denote such exaction as is unmeasurable, and odious to all the world.

The Second said, That it hath always been the intention of Legislators to forbid Usury, call'd by the Hebrews with good reason Neschech, Biting; which always hurts, how little soever it be. And forasmuch as the avarice of men hath continually withstood that natural Law, which allows not fruit to produce other fruit, nor yet the principal sum any interest, silver being barren of it self; therefore Usury was limited by the Law Dui∣lia to a Denier in two hundred; and the Usurer was more severe∣ly punish'd then the Thief; the latter being condemn'd but to pay double, and the other quadruple. The reason of which

seems to be, for that it is requisite in a State that the rich help the poor; and because the harmony of a society ceases when some one part is swell'd beyond measure while the others pine and languish; Hence it was that God instituted Jubilees, which re-establish'd the Jews every fiftieth year in the inheritances of their Fathers; and elsewhere that was introduc'd which they call'd the new Tables, being a general discharge of all debts without payment. Now what hath been practis'd since to the contrary is a meer toleration, of which heed must be taken, that it become not a Law, no more then other unjust things; which yet are suffer'd for the eschewing of worse inconve∣niences.

The Third said, Charity hath three degrees. The first is of those who give. The second of those who lend freely. But because these two are very rare, and besides imply some dispa∣ragement to the receiver, the third degree is, to lend upon mo∣derate profit: which loan ceases not to retain the Epithete of charitable, if the Creditor exact not his debt too severely, but allow for the default of time and other circumstances. And the humanity of those who promote lending upon pledges is very beneficial to the poor, who for the most part not having immoveables enough, clear from mortgage, to secure their Cre∣ditors, deprive them of the means to relieve themselves by their moveables without selling them; which sundry considerations oftentimes hinder them from doing. Besides, 'tis the opinion of many Lawyers, that the whole estate of a man taken in gross is in the eye of the Law accounted immoveables, although he have only moveables.

The Fourth said, That unless a new world were fram'd, and every particular person inspir'd with charity towards his Neigh∣bour equal to the love which he bears to himself, 'tis impossible to bring men to lend freely one to another. This is verifi'd by the Law of the Locrenses, which strictly forbidding them to lend upon Usury, they forbare not to pervert this Law pub∣lickly, the Borrower feigning to steal the Creditor's money, who thereupon took witness of it, and in case the Debtor fail'd to pay him his interest, caus'd him to be condemn'd as a Thief. From which corrupt practice the inventions of our changes and rechanges, loans upon Obligations and Pawns, are not much dif∣ferent; saving that these latter, being us'd ordinarily with per∣sons whose necessity is most urgent, are likewise more unequita∣ble. So that the same may be said concerning this kind of lend∣ing, which a Turk said once to Mahomet when he forbad the use of Wine to that Nation, Thou canst not, said he, keep us from drinking Wine, since we shall always drink it in secret; but thou maist keep us from violating and transgressing thy Law, by permit∣ting the same to us. Thus, being experience hath manifested to Legislators that it is impossible to hinder lending upon profit; even Charity ought to induce them to take away the prohibition

of it, to the end men may offend no longer. Moreover, he that would otherwise remain idle, by this means finds where∣with to exercise his Art or Trade; and money, which would be unprofitable to all such as have only personal estates, affords pro∣fit to the owners: besides that 'tis of great advantage to persons under age, many of whom having their fortune in money would otherwise devour the main stock, in stead of finding it increased by their thriftiness in their nonage. Besides that estates in land being already very dear, would become beyond all value, and by that means scarce be of any benefit, consider∣ing their excessive price.

The Fifth said, that the principal difficulty to erect a Mont de Pieté, or Bank for the poor, consists in such conditions as are much more tolerable then the ordinary lendings upon Pawns. Now those conditions concern two sorts of persons, namely, those who put money into the Bank, and those who borrow thence. Now 'tis fit to make as good composition as can be had with the first; according to what is practis'd in Italy, there may be found persons, who having not a stock of money suffici∣ent to maintain them in case they should take no more then the interest allow'd by the Làws of their Country, put their princi∣pal into the Bank, on condition to receive a Pension or Annuity for life above the ordinary interest. Others put a small sum in upon the birth of a child, on condition that the child shall re∣ceive a considerable one (agreed upon between them) at his mar∣riage; which sum, in case of death, accrues to the Bank or Mont. But the same license must not be given to the Creditors, to extort the best terms they can from their Debtors, whose ne∣cessity many times receives any Law they please to prescribe them. I conceive, therefore, that there ought to be made faith∣ful supputation of what the interest of the principal (at the lowest rate it can be had) the wages of Officers necessary for prizing, keeping, receiving and delivering of Pawns, and sel∣ling the same in case of need, will amount to: that so what this charge comes to may be taken for profit upon the Pawn, and added to the principal; but the remainder restor'd to the owner. And nothing above this is to be suffer'd.

CONFERENCE XLIV.

I. How Minerals grow. II. Whether it be best to know a little of every thing, or one thing exactly.

I. How Miner∣als grow.

UNder Minerals are comprehended, Metals, Stones, and all sorts of Fossilia, or things dig'd out of the earth. The

causes of their growing or augmentation are here inquir'd. All the world agrees that they grow, excepting those who hold that God created them at the beginning together with the earth. But they who have kept a stone in water for a long time, and find the same increas'd in bigness, will confute that opinion by this experiment; as also the experience of Miners doth, who having exhausted a Mine of its Metal find more in it after some years; and when they discover Mines, as yet imperfect, they cover the same again with earth, and after some space of time find them fit to be wrought upon, and, as it were, arriv'd to their maturity. This is also verifi'd by that Chymical ope∣ration, call'd vegetable Gold; and pieces of Cinnabar (or Quick-silver mingled with Sulphur) melted and put amongst the filings of Silver, being set over a furnace in a well luted Vessel produceth pure Silver, though of less profit then curiosity. For this visible artifice seems to prove the invisible one of nature, ac∣cording to the opinion of Philosophers, who hold that all Me∣tals are made of Quick-silver and Sulphur. So that we must not seek other causes of their generation and increasing then a new accession of that matter, either gliding along the veins of the earth, or reduc'd first into vapour by heat, and then con∣dens'd by cold.

The Second said, That he was of Cardan's opinion who assigns a particular vegetative soul to all Minerals as well as to all Plants, whereunto they have great resemblance, not only in that they have some virtues and faculties alike (yea far more excellent) which cannot come but from a principle of life (since action is the indication of life) but also because they grow according to all their dimensions, as Plants do; have a conformation and configuration, which is common to Plants with them; attract, retain and concoct the nourishment which they receive from the earth by their veins and passages, and have also an expulsive fa∣culty which is not in Plants, casting forth their dross, and exha∣ling their superfluous vapours. They have also roots and barks as Trees have; their substance is of parts organical, and really dissimilar, though in appearance some of them seem to be simi∣lar and homogeneous; and Lead, out of which are extracted Salt or Sugar, Quick-silver and Sulphur, is no more a similar bo∣dy then Ebeny, Box, and Milk, out of which such different sub∣stances are drawn.

The Third said, That before we can know whether Minerals live, we must first understand how life is caus'd in man, who is to be as the rule of all living things. It consists but in one sole action, to wit, that of Heat upon Humidity, which it rarefies and subtilizes, causing the same to ascend by little and little out of the intestines through the Mesentery to the Liver, Heart and Brain; in each of which it casting off its excrementitious parts, it acquires a new perfection, the utmost in the Brain, where it becomes a very thin spirit capable of receiving any form, even

that of light, as appears by the internal splendor of our sight, and that brightness which is sometimes seen outwardly upon some Bodies. In Plants are found the like cavities destinated to receive and prepare their nourishment which heat attracts into them; and their knots are so many repositories, wherein that heat is re-united and takes new strength, till being arriv'd at the top of the Plant, according to the rectitude of the fibres, it circulates the matter so carried up that it spreads into branches, leaves and fruit. For as humidity is of it self immoveable, and incapable of any action, so being accompani'd with heat it moves every way; and there is no need of admitting an attra∣ctive faculty in each part, since it is carried thereunto sufficient∣ly of it self. Natural heat indeed drives it upwards, but all unusual heat makes it break out collaterally, as is seen in sweat; for no eruption of humidity is caus'd but by the excess of some strange heat, not proper or natural. Now we may observe these tokens of life in the production of Minerals; their vapo∣rous matter being first sublim'd and purifi'd by heat, and then incorporated with themselves. But because all Natures works are occult, and the instrument she uses (to wit, natural heat) is imperceptible, 'tis no wonder if it be hard to know truly how Minerals hid in the earth grow, since we are ignorant how the accretion of Plants expos'd to our view is made; we per∣ceive them to have grown, but not to grow; as the shadow on on the Dyal is observ'd to have gone its round, yet appears not to move at all. Nevertheless, the Arborists would have us ex∣cept the Plant of Aloes out of this number, whose flower and trunk at a certain time shoot forth so high, and so speedily, that the motion thereof is perceptible to the eye.

The Fourth said, That the generation of some Minerals is ef∣fected by heat, and of others by cold; the former, by coction, and the latter by concretion or co-agulation; which two agents are discover'd by the dissolution of Metals: For such as are made by cold are melted by its contrary, Heat; as Lead, Silver, and other Metals; and those which are made by heat, dissolve in water, as all Salts; provided, neither the one nor the other be so compact and close that they admit not the qualities of their contraries; for which reason Glass which is concocted by fire is not dissolv'd in water; and the Diamond, Marble, and some other stones, congealed by cold, are not melted by fire. But their accretion is not made by any vital principle, but only by a new apposition of matter. Moreover, they have no sign of inward life, as nutrition, equal and uniform augmentation in all their parts (which should be distinct and organiz'd) certain constant terms and limits of magnitude, and resemblance of figure and conformation, both internal, and external between all individuals of the same species. For Minerals having no cavi∣ties cannot receive aliment inwardly. They grow as long as matter is supply'd to them, and that inequally. Their figure is

indeterminate and various, according to the casual application of their matter in the veins of the earth; and their parts are all alike. The barks, roots, and veins attributed to them have nothing but the shape of those things, not the use, no more then the paps of men. Nor do they bear flowers, fruits or seeds, nor produce or multiply themselves any other way, as Plants do.

The Fifth said, We give appellations or names to things from their external form, because their internal is unknown to us. Now divers Minerals have the same proportion that Trees have; and the cause why Mines are larger, is because they are not agitated by winds, nor in danger of falling, as Trees are, to whose magnitude, for that reason, Nature hath been con∣strain'd to set bounds; and although Minerals grow much more then they, yet it do's not follow that they have not certain terms prefix'd to their quantity. If they bear neither flowers nor fruits, 'tis so too with some Plants upon which the Sun shines not, as the Capillary Herbs which grow in the bottom of Wells, and some others also, as Fern. And the case is the same with this common Mother the Earth, as with Nurses; for as when they become with child the infant whom they suckle dyes; so where there are Mines under the Earth, nothing grows upon the surface. The decaying and old age of stones is also a sign of their being vital, as appears by the Load-stone, which loseth its strength in time, and needs filings of Iron to preserve its life. All which being joyn'd to what Scaliger relates, that in Hungary there are threds of gold issuing out the earth, after the manner of Plants, perswades me that Minerals have a particular soul be∣sides that universal spirit which informs the world and its parts; but this soul is as much inferior to that of Plants, as the vegeta∣tive is below the sensitive.

II. Whether it be best to know a little of every thing, or one thing per∣fectly.

Upon the second Point, it was said, Sciences are the goods of the mind, and the riches of the soul. And as 'tis not sufficient to happiness to have riches, but the possesser must be able to preserve and enjoy them: so 'tis not enough to have a great stock of notions, but they must be brought into the light and put in practice. Now this is done better by him who under∣stands but one single thing perfectly, then by him who knows a little of all, ordinarily with confusion, which is the mother of ignorance. This is what they call knowing a little of every thing; and of all, nothing. For being our mind is terminated, the object of its knowledge ought to be so too; whence it is that we cannot think of two thing, at the same time. Thus, of all the world mine eye and my mind can see but one thing at one time, one single Tree in a Forest, one Branch in a whole Tree; yea, perfectly but one single Leaf in a whole Branch: the excep∣tion of the mind, like that of the eye, being made by a direct line, which hath but one sole point of incidence. And the least

thing, yea the least part is sufficient to afford employment to the humane soul. Hence the consideration of a Fly detain'd Luci∣an so long; that of a Pismire exercis'd the wit of a Philosopher three and forty years. That of the Ass sufficiently busi'd Apulei∣us. Chrysippus the Physitian writ an entire volumn of the Cole∣wort; Marcion and Diocles of the Turnep and Rape; Phanias, of the Nettle; King Juba, of Euphorbium; Democritus, of the number of Four; and Messala made a volumn upon each Let∣ter. Even the Flea hath afforded more matter to sundry good wits of this age, then they found how to dispose of. How then can man, who is ignorant of the vilest things, be sufficient to know all?

The Second said, If the word knowledge be taken strictly for a true knowledge by the proper causes, 'tis better to know a lit∣tle of every thing then one thing alone. If for a superficial know∣ledge, 'tis better to know one thing solidly then all superficially; that is, a little well, then all badly. For 'tis not barely by action that the Faculty is perfected, but by the goodness of the action. One shot directly in the mark is better then a hun∣dred thousand beside it; one single Science which produces truth is more valuable then all others which afford onely like∣lihoods, (and all conjectural knowledge is no more) wherewith nevertheless almost all our Sciences overflow; out of which were all that is superfluous extracted, it would be hard to find in each of them enough to make a good Chapter: as appears by the small number of Demonstrations which can be made in any Sci∣ence; yet those are the onely instruments of knowledge. Hence it is, that he who applyes himself to many Sciences never succeeds well in them, but loses himself in their Labyrinth; for the Un∣derstanding can do but one thing well, no more then the Will can. Friendship divided, is less; as a River which hath more then one Channel, is less rapid; and he that hunts two hares catches none. Of this we have many instances in Nature, which ennables the Organs to perform but one action, the Eye to see, and the Ear to hear; and one tree brings forth but one kind of fruit. In well govern'd Families each officer discharges but one employment; In States well order'd no Artificer exercises above one Trade, whereas in Villages one work-man undertakes five or six Mysteries, and performes none well; like the knife or sword of Delphos, spoken of by Aristotle, which serv'd to all uses, but was good for none.

The Third said, The Understanding being a most subtile fire, a Spirit alwayes indefatigably moving, and which hath receiv'd all things for its portion; 'tis too great injustice to retrench its inheritance, to clip its wings, and confine it to one object; as they would do who would apply it but to one single thing, not considering that the more fewel you supply to this fire, the more it encreases, & is able to devour. Moreover, it hath a natural de∣sire to know every thing; & to go about to confine it to one, were

to limit the conquests of Alexander to an acre of Land. And as every Faculty knows its object in its whole latitude, and ac∣cording to all its species and differences; the Eye perceives not onely green and blew, but all visible, colour'd, and luminous things; the Touch feels cold, hot, soft, hard things, and all the tactile qualities; the Phancy is carry'd to every sensible good, the Will loves all that is good and convenient: In like manner the Understanding, which is the principal Faculty of Man; and though it be most simple, yet comprehends all things (as the Triangle, the first and simplest of all figures, containes them all in it self, since they may be resolv'd into, and proved by it) ought not to be in worse condition then the others its inferiors, but must be carry'd towards its object in the whole extent there∣of, that is, know it. If sundry things cannot be conceiv'd at a time, that hinders not but they may successively. Besides that the variety of objects recreates the Faculties as much as the repe∣tition of one and the same thing tires, enervates, and dulls it.

The Fourth said, All things desire good, but not all goods. So, though Men be naturally desirous of knowing, yet they have a particular inclination to know one thing rather then another, infus'd into every one for the preservation of Sciences. Which end of Nature would be frustrated, should we run to the inqui∣sition of new Sciences before we have attain'd the first, consider∣ing the brevity of our lives compar'd with the amplitude of Arts. Wherefore it were more expedient not onely that every one apply'd himself to that whereunto he finds himself inclin'd, but that there were as many distinct Artists as the Art hath prin∣cipal parts; and that, for example, as Physick hath been com∣modiously divided between Physitians, Chirugeons, and Apo∣thecaries, which were anciently but one, so their functions were again subdivided. Because by this means every one of them would attain a more perfect knowledge of his Subject. There∣fore Plato instead of cultivating, as he could have done, the spa∣cious field of Philosophy, apply'd himself onely to Metaphysicks, Socrates to Morality, Democritus to Natural Philosophy, Archime∣des to the Mathematicks. For they who would possess all the parts of a Science at once are like those who should try to pluck off a Horse's tail at one pull, instead of doing it hair by hair. Whence it was said of Erasmus, that he had been greater, if he had been contented to be less.

The Fifth said, That determination of the question depends upon the capacity of wits. For as in a poor little Mansion where there is not room enough to place all necessary moveables, 'twere impertinence to desire to place such as serve onely for luxury and ornament: So mean wits, yea, the indifferent, such as most are, take safer course in keeping to those few things of which they have most use, then if they embrac'd too many, for fear of verifying the Proverb, He that grasps too much holds no∣thing. But there are some Heroick Spirits, capable of every

thing, and of which, comparing them to others, that may be said which a Father once said of the different degrees of bliss, comparing the Souls of the blessed to vessels of several sizes, all fill'd from the same Fountain. There are little vulgar capacities, which the initiation of a Science, or the Etymologie of a word satisfies, and they never get beyond the Apprentiship of the least trade. Others are so transcendent, that they go, like the Sun, into all corners of the world without being wearied or contam∣inated with several objects. Nothing tires them but rest. They draw every thing to themselves, become Masters of what ever they undertake, and reduce all Sciences to their principal study. Thus, the Divine, the Physitian, and the Lawyer, will make use of History: The first, to enrich a Sermon, or raise a Soul de∣jected by the consideration of its miseries, whereunto it believes none equal: The Second, to divert his Patient, whose Mind ha's no less need of redress then his body: The Third, to shew that the same judgement ha's been given in a parallel case. They will call in the demonstrations of the Mathematicks to back their own, and the experiments of other Arts to serve for ex∣amples and similitudes. To these, Nature, how vast soe∣ver it be, seemes still too little, and they would complain upon occasion, like Alexander, that there were not worlds enough. Such were of old Hippocrates and Aristotle; and in the time of our Fathers the Count of Mirandula, Scaliger, and some others, who though they writ and spoke of all things, did nevertheless excel in all. Besides, nothing can be known per∣fectly, without knowing a little of every thing, and this by reason of the Encyclopaedie, or Circle of Arts; as we cannot understand a particular map without having some knowledge of the general, and also of the neighbouring Countries.

CONFERENCE XLV.

I. Whether the Heavens be solid or liquid. II. Whether it be harder to get then to preserve.

I. Whether the Heavens be solid or liquid.

WHen the proportion requisite to the necessary distance be∣tween the sense and its object fails either in excess or defect, there is no more credit to be given to Sense. That which we look upon too near, and which is apply'd upon the Eye, appears greater then ordinary, as that which is too remote seems very small, and diminishes commensurately to its distance. By which also the figure or shape of the object becomes chang'd to our apprehension; and we are apt to mistake a square Tower to be round, one colour for another, nothing for a body, a tree

for a living creature, a beast for a man, one face for another. Some things likewise deceive us near hand, as the certain of Timanthus. But if we are abus'd in objects, which are termi∣nated by an opake surface, capable of bounding our view, and reflecting our visual rayes; the same happens, with more reason, in diaphanous and transparent bodies, as Light, Fire, Air, Water, Glass, and every thing of that nature. The two last especially, have such conformity that they have divers effects alike, as to serve instead of burning-glasses to recollect the Sun-beams, and represent the species which are opposite to them. For, fill a viol with water, and set it in the Sun, his beams will produce the same effect with it as with a burning-glass. Now by reason of the possibility that our Sight may be mistaken, we are many times forc'd to have recourse to some other Sense, as to that of Touching; to the end the one may be back'd with the testimony of the other. But this cannot be practis'd in the present Sub∣ject; and therefore I conceive that the Heavens, taken for the Celestial Orbes, and not for the Air, nor the third or Em∣pyrreal Heaven, are neither solid nor liquid; because solidity is an effect of dryness, and liquidity of moisture, which are Ele∣mentary Qualities; but the Heavens not being compos'd of the Elements cannot partake of their qualities. But as they con∣stitute a Fifth Essence, of no affinity with that of the Four Ele∣ments, so the accidents which belong to them are wholly differ∣ent from ours, and can no more be conceiv'd then those of glo∣rifi'd bodies; which if you imagine solid, you can never think how they should bow the knee, or exercise any the like function. If they be imagin'd rare and liquid, and consequently penetrable, they will seem to us divisible; qualities contrary to their im∣mortality. Wherefore I conclude, that the things of Heaven are not to be measur'd by the standard of those on Earth.

The Second said, That when things are remote from our ex∣ternal Senses, we must joyn the internal in their disquisition; now reason requires that there be some utmost solid surface, serving as a boundary and limit to the Elements; otherwise the same thing would happen to the Air or the Elementary Fire, (if there be any such above the Air) that doth to the Water and the Earth, which exhale and evaporate their more rare and subtile parts into the Air; for so would the Air exhale its va∣pours into the Heavens; and the Fire (whose Nature is alwayes to mount directly upwards, till the occurse of some solid body checks its course and make it circulate) would mingle it self with the substance of the Heavens; which by this means would be no longer pure, and free from corruption, nor consequently eternal; yea, it might happen that such Meteors as should be form'd in the Heavens would disorder the motions of the Planets which we behold so regular. And besides, 'tis not possible that the Stars of the Firmament should not have come nearer one another in these 6000. years; and the Planets have been so exact in their wandrings, unless the Heavens were solid.

The Third said, That because the weakness of our reasoning cannot conceive how the creatures obey the Creator, otherwise then by such wayes as Artificers use, who fasten nails in wheels to make their motion regular; therefore Men phancy the like in Heaven. As if it had not been as easiy to God to have ap∣pointed a Law to the Stars to move regulary in a liquid space, (as fishes do in the water) yea, in a Vacuum, (if there were any in Nature) as to have riveted and fix'd them to some solid body. For 'tis true, we cannot make a durable Sphere but of solid mat∣ter. But if Children make aiery spheres, or balls with water and soap, could not God, who is an infinitely more excellent work-man, make some of a more subtile matter? Moreover, The supposition of liquid Heavens serves better to interpret these openings of Heaven mention'd in the Scripture, then if they be suppos'd solid. The melted brass to which Job compares the Heavens, proves the contrary to what is usually inferr'd from it; for immediately after this comparison made by one of Job's friends, God reproves him, and taxes his discourse of igno∣rance. Whereas it is said, that Heaven is God's throne, which is stable, and which God hath established in the Heavens; and also that it is called a Firmament, the same construction is to be made of these expressions as of that in the beginning of Ge∣nesis, where the Sun and the Moon are styl'd the two great Lights of Heaven, not because they are so in reality, but because they appear so. But that which to me seemes most conclusive for the liquidity of the Heavens, is, That Comets have been often∣times observ'd above some Planets, which could not be, were the Heavens solid. Besides that all the Elements are terminated by themselves, and need no vessel to be contain'd in.

The Fourth said, If the matter of the Heavens were as firm as glass or crystal, or onely as water, our sight could no more perceive the Stars, then it doth things in the bottome of a deep water, how clear soever it be; for the visual rayes or species of things cannot penetrate so thick a medium. But although the Stars are exceedingly remote from us, yet our eyes discern their different magnitudes, colours, and motions, and distin∣guish such as twinckle from others. Besides, those who should behold the same Star from different places would perceive it of different magnitudes, as it happens to those who look upon the same body through water or glass, in regard of the diversity of the medium, which is thicker in one place then in another. Nor is it harder to conceive how the Stars hang in the Air, then to imagine the same of the Terr-aqueous Globe.

The Fifth said, Liquid is defin'd that which is hardly contain'd within its own bounds, and easily in those of another, (which is the true definition of Liquid, and not of Humid; since Quick-silver, Lead, and all metals melted, are difficultly con∣tain'd in their own bounds, and easily in those of another; yet are not humid) the Heaven must be solid and not liquid; for it

is contain'd within its own bounds; yea, according to the Scrip∣ture, it upholds the Supercelestial Waters.

The Sixth said, The great diversity found in the motions of the Celestial Bodies, and especially in the Planets, makes very much for the Fluidity of the Heavens. For Astronomers ob∣serving that the Planets not onely go from East to West by their diurnal motion, common to all the celestial bodies, but have a particular one of their own, after a sort contrary to the former, which makes them stray from their situation, whereunto they return onely at a certain time; therefore they will have them to be turn'd about by a Heaven, term'd by them, Primum Mobile, but add that each of the Planets hath a sphere of its own, which is the cause of its second motion: Moreover, observing the Planets to be sometimes nearer, and sometimes further off from the Earth; therefore they assign'd them another sphere, call'd an Excentrick. But what needs this multiplication of spheres, when as it may reasonably be affirm'd, that God hath appointed to every Star the course which it is to observe, (as he hath assign'd to every thing its action) what ever variety be found in Planeta∣ry bodies, there being more in other Bodies. If it be said, That the wonder lies in their Regularity, I answer, There is nothing here below but ha's and keeps a rule. Whence Monsters are so much wonder'd at. Nor is there less wonder in the natural instincts of things, and all their various operations which they alwayes inviolably observe, then in Uniformity, which hath much more ease in it; as it is a more facile thing for a stone to move alwayes downwards, then for an Animal to move accor∣ding to all the diversities of place and exercise, so many several actions.

The Seventh said, The matter of the Heavens (if they have any) is, according to Empedocles, a most pure and subtile Air; and that of the Stars, is Light. Wherefore they cannot be either solid or liquid. Moreover, the Centre of the World is most compact, and it grows more and more subtile still towards the Circumference, which therefore must be immaterial, as Light is; Now the Stars are onely the thicker parts of their Orbes, like the knots in a Tree; which density renders them visible to us, multiplying and fortifying the degrees of Light by this union; as, on the contrary, the rarity of the intermediate space between the Stars doth not terminate or bound our sight, either because the species which it sends forth are not strong enough to act upon the Eye, and cause perception (which is the reason why we see not the Elementary Fire, though we see the same Fire when it comes to be united and condensed into an igneous meteor, or into our culinary flames. The Heavens therefore may be more or less dense, but not solid in that sence as we at∣tribute solidity to Crystal, Diamonds, or other hard bodies which resist the touch. But indeed we may call them so, if we take the word solid, for that which is fill'd with it self, and not

with any other intermix'd thing) all whose parts are of the same nature; according to which signification, not onely the Water, but the Air, yea, the Light it self, if it be material, may be said to be solid.

II. Whether is it easier to get or to keep.

Upon the Second Point it was said, That the difficulty of ac∣quiring and preserving is equal. The reason is, because all the world is eager to get, and therefore 'tis a trouble to a Man to keep what he hath. For the profit of one not arising without the dammage of another, (as there is no generation without cor∣ruption) nothing accrues to one but what the other loses. Wherefore the striving of every one to get, shews the pains there is in gaining something from another; and again, being every one gapes after another's goods, it is difficult to preserve the same; as a beast after which all the world is in chase, can hardly save it self. Hence Diogenes said, that Gold might well be pale, since every one layes plots to entrap it.

The Second said, That as for the guarding of a Place it is requi∣site that the same be fortifi'd on all sides, whereas there needs but one breach, or one gate open'd, for the surprizing of it; so it seems there is more pains requir'd to keep then to get. Besides, the ways of losing and spending are almost infinite, and far easier then those of gaining or acquiring, which are very few. To get, 'tis sufficient to have strength (common to Men and Beasts) but to preserve, there needs Prudence, (not onely peculiar to Man, but with which very few are well provided.) This is prov'd also by Nature, which acquires new formes by one single action, but cannot preserve the same without many. For Conservation is the duration of the existence of a thing, and this duration a con∣tinual production of it, and consequently more difficult then Acquisition, which is dispatch'd by one simple generation.

The Third said, States and Families are increas'd by acquir∣ing, and upheld by preserving what they acquir'd. Both the one and the other are very difficult, as Experience teaches us; for we see but few Families and States advanc'd; and, on the con∣trary, many others fall to decay. Nevertheless it seemes more painful to get then to keep. For if he who possesses much is troubled to preserve it, he that hath nothing is much more trou∣bled to get something; it being far easier for him who hath a stock already, not onely to preserve but increase it, then for him who hath nothing at all to become Master of any thing; as there is more of miracle in Creation then in Conservation of the Universe; and as 'tis harder to make leven out of nothing, then to make new paste with the leven which one hath already. Therefore the Latin verse tells Aemilian, that if he is poor, he will alwayes be so, because no body gives any thing but to the rich, as too many examples evidence.

The Fourth said, As 'tis the same virtue in the Load-stone which retains, and which attracts the Iron, and that which

preserves is the same with that which produces; so to keep and to get, are but one and the same thing; since he who by his good management preserves his goods, continually makes them his own. But as the harder a weight is to be lifted up, 'tis the harder to be held up; so the more labour there is in acquiring, the more there is also in preserving the thing acquir'd. Hence those who have undergone hard toyle to get an estate are more busied in keeping it, then they who receive one from another without pains. And upon this account 'tis that Aristotle saith Benefactors love those they do good to, better then they are be∣lov'd by them, because 'tis more pains to oblige then to be ob∣lig'd; and women love and preserve their children so tenderly and dearly, because of the pain which they undergo in bringing them forth. Yet because this Sex is designed to look after the goods of the family, and men to procure them, it may seem thereby that 'tis harder to get then to keep; otherwise the strongest should not have the more difficult task, as equity and justice require.

The Fifth said, The Question is resolv'd chiefly by considering the diversity of times, inclinations, capacities, and things. In Seditions or Wars 'tis hard for a man to keep his own, the stronger dispossessing the weaker, and the Laws being little heard amidst the clashing of Arms. In Peace, when justice secures every man's possession, 'tis easier to preserve. In Youth acquisition is more facile, yet keeping is not so easily practis'd then as in old age. The Prodigal does violence to himself, when he finds a necessity of saving, and thinks nothing more difficult. The Slothful man knows not how to get any thing. The Covetous finds difficulty in both, but the greatest in keep∣ing; and therefore apprehending no security amongst men, af∣ter having experienc'd the trouble of securing his wealth by the honesty of others, from the frauds of Debtors, the subtlety of Lawyers, the violence of Thieves, he is oftentimes reduc'd to hide his Treasure under ground. Persons of courage and great vivacity of spirit, but defective in discretion, are more in pain to keep then to get. As it was said of Alexander, Hanibal, and many other great Captains, that they knew better how to over∣come then to make use of their Victory. And indeed these two qualities seem inconsistent; for Conquerors have almost always been so magnificent as that they have given away with one hand what they acquir'd with the other, reserving nothing to themselves but hope and glory; whereas preserving seems pro∣per to the Magistrate and civil Judge. Lastly, some things are acquir'd with great facility, but difficulty kept, as Friendship, which oftentime is gotten in an instant, but more difficult, yea almost impossible to continue. The favours of Lovers are or∣dinarily of this rank, being more easily gotten then kept. On the contrary, Knowledge is kept with more ease then it is gain'd, because ignorance must first be remov'd out of the Understand∣ing,

and this is a matter of difficulty; whereas to preserve knowledge, the species need only be stirr'd up again, and the more they are excited they become the more strong and vigo∣rous; contrary to other things which perish in the use. For the same actions which produc'd the habit preserve it, but with much less difficulty then it was acquir'd. The same may be said of Vertues; for 'tis harder for a bad man to become good then for one of this latter sort to continue in the exercises of vertue. As for the goods of the Body, Beauty, Strength and Health; as they are frail, so they are easie to lose; the Jaundise, the small Pox, the least disorder in our humours are sufficient to al∣ter or destroy them utterly. The goods of Fortune (so call'd because they depend upon so incertain and mutable a cause, that he that hath them can searce call himself master of them) as riches and honours, are hard to get and easie to lose, inasmuch as a man must perform an infinite number of vertuous actions to obtain promotion, but a single bad action is enough to ruine him. It having pleas'd God, in order to keep every one within their duty, that in this world as well as in the other our felicity should be wrought out with fear and trembling.

CONFERENCE XLVI.

I. Of Vacuity. II. Of the extravagance of Women.

I. Of Vacuum.

THe Vulgar call that empty which is not fill'd with some vi∣sible body. But the Philosophers give this name to a place destitute of all corporeity whatsoever, yet capable of be∣ing fill'd; at least, if any such can be in nature. For it cannot be understood of those imaginary spaces beyond the heavens (which, Pythagoras said, serv'd for their respiration) whereof he conceiv'd they stood in need, as animals do. Democritus and Leucippus admitted a two-fold Vacuum; one in the Air, ser∣ving for local motion; the other in all mixt Bodies, requisite to the internal growth, and also to the lightness of things; al∣ledging that according as their atomes are closely or loosely con∣nected, and of various figures, so bodies are light or heavy. But these Opinions being antiquated, I adhere to the common one, which admits no vacuum at all.

The Second said, Since Nature abhors vacuum, there must be such a thing; for of two contraries the one supposes the other. And indeed 'tis impossible for any local motion, condensation, or rarefaction, and inward augmentation, to be made without ad∣mitting vacuity. For, as for local motion, when a body re∣moves out of a place, that into which it enters is either full or

empty: not full, for then it could not receive a new body without penetration of dimensions (which nature cannot suffer) therefore it must be empty. For this reason Melissus affirm'd that all things are immoveable. For being unable to compre∣hend how motion could be made without, and unwilling to ad∣mit vacuity, therefore he deny'd both. To say that bodies give way one to another, is to increase the difficulty instead of resolving it; for the body which gives place to another must displace a third, and this a fourth, and so to infinity. So that, to avoid admitting little pores or interstices in the air, into which it may be compacted, we must affirm that the air of our Antipodes is agitated at every the least motion of a finger here. Moreover, Vacuum is prov'd by condensation and rarefaction. For the former being made, when a body is reduc'd into a lesser extent, and its parts approach neerer one another without loss of any; either these parts penetrate one another, or else there was some void space, which is possess'd by themselves when they are thrust together: seeing, if they had been so contigu∣ous as that there were not any empty pores between them, they could not have come closer together. Likewise, rarefaction be∣ing caus'd when the parts recede one from another, if no other body interpose, there must needs be a vacuum between the parts; or else they must have been one within another. If it be said, that proportionably as one thing is condens'd in one place, another is as much rarefi'd somewhere else, to fill up the vacuum, and so on the contrary; this is harder to be conceiv'd then a vacuum. Lastly, accretion or growth, which is caus'd by the reception of aliment in the body, could not be made, if three were not some void passages to receive this aliment. And, to conclude, experience shews us, that a pail of water will receive its own measure of ashes or lime which it could not do, if there were no vacuity.

The Third said, That every thing affects unity, not only be∣cause God who is the universal cause of all is one, and most sim∣ple; and every thing ought to be like its cause; but for that all things find their good and conservation in unity, as they do their ruine in dis-union. Wherefore every thing in the world is so united that there is not any empty space between two; and contiguity is as necessary in the parts of the world as continuity in those of a living creature. For if there were a Vacuum in the world, the Heavens could not transmit their influences into the Elements and their compounds, for the preservation of which the same are absolutely necessary; considering that whatever acts upon a distant thing must do it by some medium uniting the agent and the patient.

The Fourth said, Since Nature offers violence to her self, to prevent inanity, and all things quit their particular interest for that of the publick, undoubtedly, there is no such thing as va∣cuum in Nature. For we see that she makes heavy things to

ascend, light things to descend, and breaks the solidest and strongest things without any external violence, only to avoid the inconvenience of vacuity. If bellows be compress'd and the holes stop'd, no humane force can expand them without breaking; a bottle (of what material soever) fill'd with boiling water and stop'd, and put into cold, immediately flies in pieces. You cannot draw Wine out of a vessel, unless you give en∣trance to the air at the bung-hole. A vessel being full of heated air, and its orifice apply'd to the water, sucks the same up∣wards. A Cupping-glass, when the heated and subtile air in it becomes condens'd and takes up less room, attracts the flesh into it self. Syphons and Pumps, by which the water is made to ascend higher then its source, are founded wholly upon this eschewing of vacuity. Our own bodies also afford us an in∣stance, for the aliment could not be assimilated in each part without the suction and attraction which is made of it to supply the place of what is consum'd by exercise or heat, otherwise the blood and nourishment would tend only downwards by their own weight. And what makes the effects of blood-letting and purgation so sensible, but this very flight of Vacuum?

The Fifth said, A notable vacuity and of great extent cannot be without miracle, but some small interspers'd inanities may be between the particles of the Elements and Compounds, like the pores of our bodies: for Nature abhors the former, and can do nothing without the latter; it being impossible for Qua∣lities to be transmitted to any subject through a great vacuum, which would hinder the perception of our senses, and the fire it self from heating at the least distance. There could be no breathing in it, Birds could not fly in it; in brief, no action could be exercis'd in it but those whereof the principle is in the thing it self, and which need no medium, as local motion, which would be more easily made, because there would be no re∣sistance.

The Sixth said, Nature doth what she can to hinder a vacuum, yet suffers one when she is forc'd to it. For if you suck out all the air out of a bottle, then stop it exactly, and having put it under water with the mouth downwards, open it again, the water will immediately ascend to fill the vacuity left by the exsuction of the air. And if with a Syringe you force air into a vessel strong enough to endure such violence, when the pores of the air which were empty before come to be fill'd, it will of its own accord drive out the water very impetuously which was put first into it. Likewise, though the air naturally keep up above the water: yet by enclosing it in some sort of vessel you may violently make it continue under the water.

II. Of the capri∣cious or ex∣travagant humours of women.

Upon the second Point, it was said, It is not here pronounc'd that all women are capricious; but only the reason inquir'd of those that are such, and why they are more so then men. To

alledge the difference of souls, and suppose that as there is an or∣der in the Celestial Hierarchies, whereby the Archangels are plac'd above Angels, so the spirits of men are more perfect then those of women; were to fetch a reason too far off, and prove one obscure thing by another more so. Nor is the cause to be found in their bodies, taken in particular, for then the handsome would be free from this vice; the actions which borrow grace from their subject appearing to us of the same nature; and con∣sequently their vertues would seem more perfect, and their de∣fects more excusable; whereas, for the most part the fairest are the most culpable. We must therefore recur to the cor∣respondence and proportion of the body and the soul. For sometimes a soul lights upon a body so well fram'd, and organs so commodious for the exercise of its faculties, that there seems more of a God then of a man in its actions (whence some persons of either Sex attract the admiration of all world:) On the con∣trary, other souls are so ill lodg'd that their actions have less of man then of brute. And because there's more women then men found, whose spirits are ill quarter'd, and faculties deprav'd; hence comes their capricious and peevish hu∣mour. For as melancholy persons, whose blood is more heavy, are with good reason accounted the more wise; so those whose blood and (consequently) spirits are more agile and moveable, must have a less degree of wisdom, and their minds sooner off the hooks. The irregular motions of the organ which distin∣guishes their Sex, and which is call'd an animal within an ani∣mal, many times have an influence in the business, and increase the mobility of the humours. Whence the health of their minds as well as that of their bodies many times suffers alteration. A woman fallen into a fit of the Mother becomes oftentimes en∣rag'd, weeps, laughs, and has such irregular motions as not on∣ly torment her body and mind, but also that of the Physitian, to assign the true cause of them. Moreover, the manner of living whereunto the Laws and Customs subject women, contributes much to their defects. For leading a sedentary life, wherein they have always the same objects before their eyes, and their minds being not diverted by civil actions, as those of men are, they make a thousand reflections upon their present condition, comparing it with those whereof they account themselves wor∣thy: this puts their modesty to the rack, and oftentimes car∣ries them beyond the respect and bounds which they propos'd to themselves. Especially, if a woman of good wit sees her self marri'd to a weak husband, and is ambitious of shewing her self. Another judging her self to merit more then her rival, not knowing to whom to complain of her unhappiness, does every thing in despight. And indeed they are the less culpable, inas∣much as they always have the principles of this vice within them∣selves, and frequently find occasions abroad.

The Second said, that the word Caprichio is us'd to signifie

the extravagant humour of most women, because there is no animal to which they more resemble then a Goat, whose motions are so irregular that prendre la chevre signifies to take snuffe without cause, and to change a resolution unexpectedly. For such as have search'd into the nature of this animal, find that its blood is so sharp, and spirits so ardent, that it is always in a Fever; and hence it is that being agitated with this heat which is natu∣ral to it it leaps as soon as it comes into the world. Now the cause of this temper is the conformation of the Brain, which they say is like that of a woman, the Ventricles of which being very little are easily fill'd with sharp and biting vapours, which can∣not evaporate (as Aristotle affirms) because their Sutures are clo∣ser then those of men: those vapours prick the Nerves and Membranes, and so cause those extraordinary and capricious motions. Hence it is, that women are more subject to the Meagrim and other diseases of the head, then men. And if those that sell a Goat never warrant it sound as they do other animals, there is no less excuse in reference to women. Which caus'd the Emperour Aurelius to say, that his Father in law Anto∣ninus who had done so much good to others had done him mis∣chief enough in giving him his daughter, because he found so much bone to pick in a little flesh. Moreover, the Naturalists say that the Goat is an enemy to the Olive-tree especially, which is a symbol of peace, whereunto women are not over-well af∣fected. For, not to mention the first divorce which woman caus'd between God and man by her lickorishness; her talking, her ambition, her luxury, her obstinacy, and other vices, are the most common causes of all the quarrels which arise in fami∣lies, and in civil life. If you would have a troop of Goats pass over any difficult place you need force but one to do it, and all the rest will follow. So women are naturally envious, and no sooner see a new fashion but they must follow it. And Gard'ners compare women and girles to a flock of Goats, who roam and browse incessantly, holding nothing inaccessible to their curio∣sity. There is but one considerable difference between them; the Goat wears horns, and the woman makes others wear them.

The Third said, There is more correspondence between a woman and a Mule, then between a woman and a Goat: for (leaving the Etymology of Mulier to Grammarians) the Mule is the most teasty and capricious of all beasts, fearing the shadow of a man or a Tree overturn'd more then the spur of the rider. So a woman fears every thing but what she ought to fear. The ob∣stinacy of the Mule, which is so great that it has grown into a Proverb, is inseparable from the whole Sex, most of them being gifted with a spirit of contradiction. Mules delight to go in companies; so do women; the bells and muzzles of the one have some correspondence with the earings and masks of the other; and both love priority. The more quiet you allow a

Mule, it becomes the more resty; so women become more vi∣tious in idleness; neither of them willingly admits the bridle between their teeth. The Mule is so untoward that it kicks in the night time while 'tis asleep; so women are oftner laid then quiet. Lastly, the Mule that hath seem'd most tractable all its time, one day or other pays his master with a kick; and the woman that has seem'd most discreet, at one time or other commits some notorious folly.

The Fourth said, That those who invented the little Medals representing the upper part of a woman, and the lower of a Mule, commend this Sex whilst they think to blame it. For there is nothing more healthy, strong, patient of hunger, and the inju∣ries of seasons, or that carries more, and is more serviceable, then a Mule. Nature shews that she is not satisfi'd with her other productions whilst she makes other animals propagate by gener∣ation; but when she has made a Mule, she stops there, as ha∣ving found what she sought. Now if certain actions of women seem full of perverseness and capricio to some, possibly others will account them to proceed from vivacity of spirit, and great∣ness of courage. And as the Poet, in great commendation of his black Mistress, chanted her cheeks of Jet, and bosom of Ebeny; so whatever some people's mistake may say to the con∣trary, the most capricious woman is the most becoming. Nor is this humour unprofitable to them; for as people are not for∣ward to provoke a Mule for fear of kicks, so we are more shie of women then otherwise we should be, for fear of capricioes, well understanding the difference which the Proverb puts be∣tween the van of the one, and the rear of the other. Yet some hold that this capriciousness of women follows the Moon no less then their menstruosities do. Others, that the flower of beans con∣tributes very much to it.

The Fifth said, That if credit is to be given to experience, Solomon who had experience of a thousand women, compares an ill capricious woman to a Tygress and a Lyoness. Such were Medea, Xantippe, and many others. Moreover, the Poets say that the Gods intending to punish Prometheus for having stoln the celestial fire, gave him a wife. And when Satan afflicted Job he depriv'd him of his flocks, of his houses, and of his children, but had a care not to take his wife from him, knowing that this was the onely way to make him desperate, as it would have done without God's special grace. The Rabbins say, three sorts of persons were exempted from publick charges, and could not be call'd into judgement, to wit, the Poor, the Nephritick, and he that had a bad wife, because they had business enough at home without needing any abroad. The Laws likewise ex∣empted new marry'd men from going to the wars the first year of their marriage, allowing them this time, which is the roughest and most important, to repress their quarrelsomeness, and reduce

their fierce Spouses to duty. Which if the Husbands could not effect, a little bill of Divorce (appointed by God, and the Laws for putting an end to the poor Man's miseries) did the business. Though the Chaldeans us'd not so much formality, but onely▪ ex∣tinguish'd the domestick fire which the Priest kindled at the marriage. Yet the priviledge was not reciprocal, neither Di∣vine nor Humane Laws having ever allow'd women to relinquish their Husbands; for then, being as capricious and inconstant as they are, they would have chang'd every day. For the same reason the Laws have alwayes prohibited to women the admini∣stration of publick affairs. And the Religion of the Mahumetan Arabians assignes them a Paradise apart; because (say they) if the women should come into that of the men they would disturb all the Feast.

CONFERENCE XLVII.

I. Of the Virtue of Numbers. II. Of the Visible Species.

I. Of the Virtue of Numbers.

THe Mind of Man resembles those who make the point of their tools so small that they spoil them with too much sharpning; and in the contemplation of natural causes there is more then enough to satisfie his desire of knowledge, were it not that he will attempt every thing. Hence it is that the causes of different effects here below are sought in things the most re∣mote, and no otherwise appertaining to them then that as acci∣dents and circumstances. Of these accidents some have action, as Quality; others have none, as Quantity; under which are comprehended Number, Figure, Lines, Surface, and its other species; which are consider'd either in some matter, or else ab∣stracted from it; in the former of these wayes, they have some virtue in regard of their matter, but not in the latter. An Army of fifty thousand Men is potent, but the number of fifty thou∣sand can do nothing, yea, is nothing, if taken abstractedly. Wherefore as reasonable as it is to seek the virtues of simple and compound bodies in their qualities, and to say, e. g. that Pepper bites and alters the Tongue, because it is hot and dry; so absurd it seemes to think that five or seven leaves of Sage apply'd to the Wrist have more virtue then six or eight.

The Second said, Nothing includes more wonders in it self then Number; and if our Reason cannot penetrate their cause, they ought to be the more esteem'd for being unknown. This is the universal opinion of all Antiquity, both Jewish and Pagan, which otherwise would not have made so much adoe with them. Yea, there's [divine] authority for it, contain'd in the eleventh

Chapter of Wisedom, God made all things in number, weight, and measure. Experience justifies their Energy, teaching us that certain numbers are to be observ'd in cases where we would have the like effects, which possibly is the canse why the opera∣tions of one and the same remedy are found so frequently differ∣ent. We see Nature so religious in this observation, in all her works, that she never produces an Animal, but the proportion of seeds is adjusted most exactly; that in Plants, their grains and all other parts have the same taste, colour, and virtue, (whence it is that simple medicaments are alwayes more certain then compound) because Nature either produces them not at all, or makes them with the same number, weight, and measure of matter and qualities. 'Tis through the virtue of number that such a Plant, as Coloquintida, is mortal when it grows alone; and medicinal, when many of them grow together.

The Third said, The Pythagoreans and Platonists ascrib'd so great power to numbers, that they thought all things were compos'd of them, and more or less active according to their several proportion. Of which they made four sorts. First the Poetical, or Musical, the virtue whereof is such, that it gave occasion to the Fable of Orpheus, who is said to have drawn even beasts, trees, and rocks, by the harmonious sound of his Harp. 'Twas by the cadence of the like numbers that David chas'd away Saul's evil spirit; and Poetry, which differs from Prose onely by its numbers, hence derives the power it hath over mens souls. The Second sort is the Natural, and is found in the com∣position of all mixt bodies. The Third is Rational, peculiar to Man, whose soul they term'd a moving number, the connexion whereof with the body they said, continu'd so long as the num∣bers which link'd them remain'd united together. The Fourth Divine, upon which and the Natural the Cabalists and Magi∣cians have founded their profoundest secrets, and Agrippa his Occult Philosophy. But above all others, they particularly esteem'd the odd number, styling it perfect and Masculine; as, on the contrary, the even, imperfect and Feminine. Indeed we observe that the Birth of Man happens, for the most part, in an odd moneth, to wit, the seventh or ninth; in the rest, the In∣fant seldome comes forth alive. Also most of the alterations of our bodies happen according to the septenary number; whence the number 83. call'd for this reason the grand Climacterical, is so greatly fear'd, because 'tis produc'd by seven multiply'd into nine. Physicians never appoint Pills in an even number. Good Crises alwayes happen on an odd day; and he that loses his Ague at an even fit necessarily falls into a relapse. Which cannot be attributed to any thing but number. For such effects as are produc'd by the quality or quantity of the matter appear with it; and therefore if these caus'd the Crisis, it would not be wholly at once, but begin and proceed by degrees according to the augmentation of the matter; as fire is increas'd by new

wood cast upon it. But the motion of Crises is alwayes sudden, and many times against all appearance.

The Fourth said, As the beginning of all things is a most simple essence; so all Numbers spring from Unity, which is no Number of it self, but the beginning of Number. Osellus calls it the Symbol of Peace and Concord, because it is indivi∣sible; and with the Philosophers, Unity, Verity, Goodness, and Essence, are one and the same thing. Whence it follows that the Binary is the first of all numbers, wherewith Nature is so highly delighted that she ha's exactly observ'd it in the structure of Man, the Organs of whose senses, and almost all his mem∣bers, are double; and therefore 'tis also so carefully observ'd by Architects. But the Ternary, concerning which Ausonius writ an entire volumne, being the first odd number, is of more effi∣cacy, it is competent to the Deity and his works; the world is distinguish'd into three Ages; there are three sorts of Souls in Nature, three Faculties in Man, and three principal parts in his Body: Which caus'd Aristotle to say, in his first Book De Coelo, Chapter 1. That all things are comprehended under this Num∣ber [Tria sunt Omnia.] The Qaternary, dedicated to Mercury, is the first even and square number, highly esteem'd by the Py∣thagoreans, because it contains the grand number of Ten, (for 1, 2, 3, 4, put together, make Ten;) and by the Jews, upon the Art of the Divine Tetragrammaton, or Name of four Let∣ters. Moreover, there are four Elements, four Seasons, four Humours, four Ages, and four Cardinal Virtues. As for the Quinary, we see there are five most Simple Bodies in Nature, five Senses, and five Fingers on a Hand. The Senary, accord∣ing to Saint Jerome, contains the mysterie of the Creatures, be∣cause it arises from the double proportion of the quaternary to the binary. Nevertheless the Septenary ha's been accounted the most mysterious of all; because 'tis compounded of the first odd number, and first even Square, namely, three and four. And 'tis held, that by virtue of this number, the seventh Son born of the same Mother, without any interposition of the other sex, hath a particular gift of doing cures. Orpheus so esteem'd the Octonary, that he swore onely by it and the Eight Deities, to wit, the four Elements, the Sun, the Moon, Light, and Dark∣ness. This number was alwayes held for the Emblem of Justice, because 'tis the first Cube, and hath a most perfect equality in all its parts. The Novenary being compounded of three Triads, (the first odd and most perfect number) is also of great efficacy; whence the Heavens, the Muses, and the orders of Angels have been compriz'd in it. Lastly, the Denary, which is the first conjoyned number, includes all the preceding. By all which it appears, that there is some efficacy not onely in numbers in general, but also in every one in particular.

The Fifth said, That which is most considerable in number, is, that 'tis the most sensible exemplar of the Deity, of whom you can∣not

conceive so many perfections, but there will still remain more to be imagin'd; as you cannot ad so many numbers together, but you may yet add more. This is peculiar to it, that there is a least number, to wit, two, but no greatest, because you may alwayes assign a greater. Yet there's no number, how great so∣ver, but may be expressed. For set down a thousand figures in a row, and as many below them, multiply the one by the other, the sand of the sea do's not equal this number. What will it be then, if you multiply the same again, which you may do as often as you please. Here writing will surpass speech; for you cannot count it. Its perfection is also manifest, in that the Philosophers knew not how to express the formes and essences of things better then by comparing them to numbers. For as every number is so perfect and complete a total in it self, that you cannot add or diminish any thing from it, and it remain the same number; so are the essences of things. Moreover, ▪tis par∣ticular to Man; for he alone, amongst all Creatures, reasons, speaks, and computes. Whence Amphistides was adjudg'd a fool because he could not count above five. And Pythagoras assignes no other cause of the ratiocination of Man, but this, that he understands how to compute or reckon. For Number is made by order and connexion of many unites, which actions cannot be perform'd but by the Understanding.

The Sixth said, Number being nothing in it self, but a simple work of the Understanding, cannot produce any real effect. And supposing it could, yet Parity and Imparity are but accidental, not substantial formes; and therefore incapable of rendring a number more or less active. Which made Galen doubt whether Pythagoras could attribute so much power to it, and yet be wise. For, as for Plato, 'tis very probable he ascrib'd this virtue to Formes and Essences, which he termes Formal and Rational numbers, rather then to real and true numbers abstracted from Essence. Whereas some have divin'd prosperous and sinister accidents by the imparity or parity of the syllables in some per∣son's name, or whether should live longest the Husband or the Wife, by the greater or less number of their letters; this is ra∣ther to be referr'd to Chance then to any thing else.

The Seventh said, Nature makes all her works in Number, since she makes them in Time, which is the number of Motion. Yet 'tis not Number that acts, but Nature alone. For Number is incapable of all action, having no essence of it self, but by acci∣dent, and not so much as an essence of reason. For the Under∣standing conjoyning many unites together, which are indivisi∣bles, and consequently negations, frames a number. And if many unites of substance cannot make a real total it self, much less can many unites of Quantities.

II. Of the Visible Species.

Upon the Second Point it was said, That there is nothing barren in Nature, but every thing incessantly produces its like. Which is no less wonderful then the first Creation, the power of which God seemes by this productive virtue to have commu∣nicated to Creatures. But that which surpasses all admiration, is, that even the most gross and material things incessantly emit out of themselves infinite, species which are so many pourtrai∣tures and resemblances, more exquisite and excellent then their Original. And being every thing ha's its sphere of activity, these species are diffus'd in the Air, and other diaphanous medi∣ums, to a certain distance, unless they meet with opake and ter∣minated bodies, which hinder them from passing further, and interrupt their continuity with their source, either reflecting them, as it happens when the opposite body is so exactly polish'd that it equally sends back all the parts of the species without mutilation; or onely stopping them, as all other bodies do. Our Sight goes not to seek Objects, but they insinuate themselves into it by their species; whence it is that in a Looking-glass we behold a person that stands behind us. Moreover, all Sensa∣tion being a Passion, according to Aristotle, as Hearing is made by the reception of sounds, so must Seeing by the reception of the Visible Species; nor must this sense be in a worse condition then the rest, who are not at the trouble to go to seek their Ob∣jects, but onely to receive them. An undoubted proof whereof is administred by the great conformity which is between the Seeing, Hearing, and Smelling, especially between the two former.

The Second said, That the Visible Species are a reflection of light, which is various according to the different colour and figure of the Objects: Whence it is that a Concave glass reflects not onely the species but also light and heat, augmented by the union of their scatter'd rayes into a point. Now these Species are carry'd into the Eye; and as one nayle drives another, and the agitated Water or Air thrusts that which is next it, so the tunicles and humours of the Eye being struck by the Species the Spirits are stirr'd by the same means, and take the form of the Species according as they arrive; as when the Air is inclos'd in a rock is struck by the Species of some sound, it puts on the form of the Species of this sound, and issuing forth of its cavity with this borrow'd form, makes the voice which we call an Echo. These Species being receiv'd by the Spirits, are by them carry'd to the Common Sense and the Imagination; and then, (after the example of this Faculty) the Intellect formes the like in it self, which are more spiritual and incorporeal then the first, and which at length it commits to the custody of the Me∣mory, to make use of the same in fitting time and place.

The Third said, That the greatest difficulty arising about these Visible Species, is, how those of each different object of

the same place can fill it all, and nevertheless all these Species together not fill it more; yea, not confound and hinder one the other from being as well seen as if there were but one Object. 'Tis otherwise in sounds and smells, which being various give not a distinct perception of any one, but a medley of all. Now the reason hereof seemes to be, because the Visible Species alter not the Air, as odours which are corporeal do; (as appears in that they make us healthy and sick) and 'tis not needful for the Eye to paint them anew, as the Ear new frames all sounds, which cannot be done but successively; the deep tone, (for example) being constrain'd to attend at the portal of the Ear, till the shrill be new form'd in it. Whence ariseth the confusion of sounds.

The Fourth said, As the Visible Species are not mix'd together in a Looking-glass, but all appear distinctly, although the di∣mensions of the glass be very small in respect of the extent and number of the objects, because the Species concur there in a di∣rect line, and are terminated as in a point, which is capable to lodge them, being they are immaterial: So it is with the same Species in reference to the Air, through the least part where∣of 'tis a less wonder that many of them pass without penetration, then to observe the actions of our Memory; in one point of which infinite Species, not onely visible, but those introduc'd by all other senses, remain for a long time, yea, during all our lives; notwithstanding their society seem very incompatible. But although Objects send their Images towards the Sight, yet the Eye emits the most subtile and active Spirits to receive them, which it hath for this purpose. Hence it is that to see a thing distinctly, we contract our Eyes, or shut one of them; to the end the visual beams may be more strengthened by being more united. 'Tis through the dissipation of these spirits that the Eye grows weary with seeing; and old men, those who watch, read, or addict themselves to women too much, see not very clear; and on the contrary, young persons, and the cholerick, whose spirits are more subtile, have a very sharp Sight. But if Sight were performed without any Emission, the Basilisk should not kill by its aspect; the Wolf perceiving a man first should not make him hoarse; women should not infect Looking-glasses at certain times; those who have sore Eyes should not communi∣cate their infirmity to others by beholding them, or being be∣held by them: Lastly, old hags could not bewitch Children by the Sight, and Lambs too, by the report of Virgil, if the visual spirits which they send forth were not corrupted.

The Fifth said, If the Eye send any thing towards the Object, it must be either a substance or an accident. An incorporal sub∣stance it cannot be, for then a man should emit his Soul, or part of it, which is absurd; besides, that of other Animals, whose Souls are confessedly corporeal, some see better then we. Nor can it be a body, for no body is mov'd in an instant; and yet as soon as we open our Eyes we behold the Stars; yea, we see

much sooner then we hear, and behold the Lightning before we hear the Thunder which preceded it. Nor is it any of the Ani∣mal Spirits that issues forth; from whence should such a quan∣tity be produc'd as to reach as far as the Firmament? Neither is it an accident, since 'tis against Nature for an accident to go from one subject to another. Now this difficulty may serve for an excuse to Cardinal Perron, when before Henry III, he was gravel'd with this Riddle, I am a man and no man, I have neither body nor soul, I am neither shadow nor picture, and yet I am seen; by which was meant the species of a man beholding himself in a glass. Lastly, either these visual rayes return back to their quarters, after they have been abroad to receive the Visible Spe∣cies; (and then Nature should labour in vain by going to seek that which comes of its own accord) or else they return not, and so the vision should not be made in the Eye, but in the Air.

CONFERENCE XLVIII.

I. Whether every thing that nourishes an Animal ought to have life. II. Of Courage.

I. Whether e∣very thing that nourish∣es an Animal ought to have Life.

EVery thing in the world is effected by an order and disposi∣tion of causes and means subalternate ▪one to another. God makes himself known to Men by the marvellous effects of Nature. The immaterial and incorruptible Heavens communi∣cate their virtues and influences here below; first, through the Element of Fire, which is most subtile, and then through the Air which is most pure in the upper Region, more gross in the middle, and in the lower infected by the vapours and exhala∣tions of the Water and Earth, and all compounds; in the pro∣duction whereof Nature observes such order as that she begins alwayes with the more simple, and never passes from one ex∣tremity to another without a medium. Thus the Plant spring∣eth out of the ground like an herb, becomes a shrub, and then a tree. The Embryo lives onely a vegetable life at first, then ar∣rives to motion, and lastly, is indu'd with reason. Even in civil life too speedy advancements are taken ill, whereas he who grows great by degrees do's not so much offend the Minds of others, and provokes less jealousie. Hence also the deaths, and especi∣ally the violent, astonish us more then the births of Men, be∣cause they come into the world, and grow up by little and little, but are cut off in a moment. So likewise the burning of Cities, and overthrow of States, cause the more admiration, because sudden vicissitudes seem less conformable to the order of Na∣ture then their progressive erections. That which is observ'd in the composition and generation of bodies holds also in their

nutrition, for both of them proceed from the same Faculty, and are almost the same thing. For to nourish, is to be chang'd into the substance of that which is nourish'd. Nature makes no change from one term to another by a violent motion and progress, but by little and little, of a matter capable of being converted into the substance of the living thing; as onely that is which hath life, it being as impossible to make a living thing of that which never was such, and consequently whose matter hath no disposition to become such, as 'tis to make a thing be which cannot be.

The Second said, (setting aside Cardan's opinion who extends life even to Stones) as there are three orders of living things, so there are three that have need of nutrition, Plants, Animals and Men. Plants are nourish'd with the juice of the earth; Animals, for the most part, with Plants; and Men better with the Flesh of Animals, then with any other thing, by reason of the resemblance of their natures. The first order is not here spoken of, because Plants must needs be nourish'd with that which hath not had life, unless we will say, that the universal spirit inform∣ing the earth gives it vertue to produce and nourish them. The two latter are only in question, and I think it no more inconve∣nient that what hath not had life may serve for aliment, and be converted into the substance of a living creature, then that the earth and water (simple elements in respect of a Plant) are assi∣milated by it and made partakers of vegetable life. For as fire makes green wood combustible by exsiccating its humidity; so an Animal may render such matter fit for its nourishment which was not so before. Not only the Oestrich is nourish'd with Iron which it digests, Pigeons and Pullen with gravel, the stones of which are found in their crops smooth and round; but also men may be nourish'd with bread made of earth. And the Spani∣ards are much addicted to the use of an earth call'd Soccolante which they mingle with water and sugar; its terrene consi∣stence refuting their opinion who hold it to be the juice of a Plant. Yea, some in Sieges have supported their lives with in∣animate things, as with bread of Slate▪ as 'tis reported of that of Sancerre. And, moreover, 'tis manifest that some sick people are nourish'd with water alone for many days together.

The Third said, Nutrition is made by the help of heat, which alters and divides the aliments, and reduces them to a most sim∣ple substance, capable of being converted into every similary part; the property of heat being to separate heterogeneous things, and conjoyn those of the same nature. Hence, things least compounded are more easily assimilated. And as among Medicaments, so among aliments, the more simple are the best, and make fewest excrements. The air doth not only refresh the natural heat, but serves for food and aliment to the spirits, our best and noblest parts; with which air alone, as the common opinion holds, the Camelion is nourish'd, as the Grashopper

with dew which is nothing but concreted air; and the Jews were fed fourty years with Manna, which is a kind of dew (for the Scri∣pture saith it vanish'd with the heat of the Sun) yea, the Manna which is found at this day in Calabria & other places is capable of nourishing an animal, and yet it never had life, but fall's from hea∣ven upon the stones, from which it is collected. The same may be said of hony, which is a kind of dew too falling upon the leaves & flowers of Plants, and serving for food to Bees who only gather it, without other preparation. And a sort of Flyes call'd Pyraustae live with nothing but fire, as many Fishes do of plain water, Moles and Worms of simple earth. Antimony and divers other Minerals, purg'd from their malignant qualities, serve for aliment; and they who are expert in Chymistry make a kind of bread of them. The Magistery of Pearls and Coral, many precious Stones, and Gold it self, by the consent of all antiquity, wonderfully repair our radi∣cal moisture by their fix'd spirits; whence they are call'd Cordials.

The Fourth said, If man were homogeneous and all of a piece, he would be not only immortal, according to Hippo∣crates, but need no food, which is necessary only for reparation of what substance is consum'd; now nothing would be destroy'd in man, were it not for the heterogeneous pieces of which he is made up. Wherefore since we are nourish'd with the same things whereof we are compos'd, and we are not compos'd of one pure and simple element, but of four, it follows, that whatever nourishes us must be mix'd of those four Elements; and therefore the more compounded it is, as animate things are, the more proper it is to nourish. Otherwise were the aliment pure, it could not be assi∣milated. And although it could be assimilated, yet it could not nourish the whole body, but only either the terrestrial parts, if it were earth; or the humours, if it were water; or the spirits, if it were fire or air.

The Fifth said, The life of man cost Nature dear, if it must be maintain'd at the expence of so many other animals lives. If you say, that being made for man, the greatest happiness that can befall them is to serve him in something though by the loss of their lives. But this is rather a fair excuse to cover our cruel∣ty and luxury; seeing Animals are no more proper then Plants to nourish man. Witness our first Fathers, before the flood, who were so long-liv'd although they liv'd not of flesh. Whence 'tis inferr'd too that inanimate things may nourish us better then Plants. For the taste is an ill judge in this cause; the Eele, amongst animals, and the Peach, amongst fruits, affording the worst nourishment, though they rellish most deliciously. The Similitude of substance is of little consideration; for Ani∣mals live not of their like, and the Cannibals are ordinarily all Leprous. That a thing may be food, 'tis sufficient that it have an humidity or substance proportionate to ours, in what order of things soever it be found. And nature has had no less care of nourishing an animal then of healing it, but she has endu'd all

sublunary bodies with properties medicinal to man. Lastly, we cannot reckon among Plants those excrescenses which we call Truffes, and are held to be produc'd by thunder in some kinds of earth, whence they are gather'd; and yet they nourish ex∣tremely.

The Sixth said, When that which enters into the Stomack is alter'd by it, 'tis call'd aliment; for heat is the chief Agent by which it is united and assimulated; whence it comes to pass that according to the diversity of this heat, Hemlock serves for nourishment to the Starlings, but kills man. Now to judge whether that which hath had life be more proper for nutrition then that which hath not; we need only consider upon which of the two the natural faculty which disperses this heat acts most powerfully; which, no doubt, it doth upon that which hath had life, since it hath the conditions requisite to food, being in some sort like, as having been alive; and also qualifi'd to become so again, because when a form forsakes its subject it leaves disposi∣tions in it for a like form to ensue; 'tis also in some sort unlike, being actually destitute of life. Wherefore as that which hath life really cannot nourish a living thing because of its total re∣semblance, and there is no action between things alike, other∣wise a thing might act against it self, since nothing is more like to any thing then it self. So that which never had life cannot nourish an animal, by reason of its intire dissimilitude, and be∣cause between things wholly unlike there is no action.

II. Of Courage.

Upon the second Point; If 'tis worthy admiration that amongst Animals a little dog gives chase to a multitude of Oxen (whence the Hebrews call a Dog Cheleb, that is to say, All heart, in regard of his courage) 'tis more to be wonder'd that amongst men who are of the same species, and fram'd after the same man∣ner, one puts to flight three others, greater, stronger and often∣times more dextrous then himself. The cause hereof is attributed to heat; but (besides that we see many sufficiently heated in every other action, but cold when it comes to fighting;) as they say there are good Grey-hounds of all sizes, so there are great cou∣rages of all tempers; and although the hair, complexion, sta∣ture, and habit of body, are the most sure witnesses, yet every body knows that there are valiant men found of all hairs and sta∣tures, yea of all Ages, the seeds of courage being manifest in children, and the remainders in old men. It seems therefore that courage proceeds from the fitting and well proportion'd temper and structure of the heart and arteries; for when these are too large, the spirits are more languid, and the actions less vigorous, either to repell present dangers, or meet those which are future. Yet the Cholerick are naturally more dispos'd to magnanimity, the Phlegmatick and Melancholy less, and the Sanguine are between both. Education also and custom are of great moment, as we see Rope-dancers and Climbers perform

strange feats with inimitable boldness, because they have been us'd to walk upon Ropes, and climb the Spires of Churches, from their youth. So a child that has been accustom'd to dangers from his infancy will not fear any. Moreover, Honour and Anger are great spurs to valour, especially, when the latter is sharpned by the desire of revenge, which is excited by injury, derision, or ingratitude. Exhortations too are very effectual. And therefore when ever Caesar's Souldiers did not behave them∣selves well, he observes that he had not had time to make a speech to them. Nor is Necessity and the consideration of pre∣sent danger to be omitted, for the greatest cowards oftentimes give proofs of courage upon urgent occasions, when there's no hope of flight; and one of the best wiles of a General is to take from his Souldiers all hope of retreat and safety otherwise then in victory. Example also prevails much, both as to flying and to fighting. Wherefore those that run first ought to be punish'd without mercy, as they who first enter a breach, or are farthest engag'd amongst the enemies, deserve great acknowledgement of their vertue. But particularly amongst persons acquainted and mutually affectionate, courage is redoubled by the pre∣sence of the thing belov'd; witness the sacred Legion of the Thebans. But the desire of honour and hope of reward are the most powerful incitements to valour. Upon which account the King's presence is always counted equivalent as all his Troops together.

The Second said, Courage is a vertue plac'd between bold∣ness and fear. Yet it is chiefly conversant in moderating fear, which is an expectation of evil. Amongst the evils and adversi∣ties which cause terrour to men, some are to be fear'd by all, and cannot be slighted by a vertuous man, as ignominy, punish∣ment for a crime, or other infamy. Others may be fear'd or despis'd without blame, if our selves be not the causes of them, as Poverty, Exile and Sickness. And yet a man is never the more couragious for not fearing them. For a Prodigal is not couragious for not fearing Poverty; an impudent fellow that hath lost all shame may easily despise banishment, as Diogenes did; and a Sot will be insensible of an incurable disease, which a wise man supports patiently. Lastly, some evils are to be con∣temn'd, as all dangers and misfortunes which necessarily come to pass in life, and death it self; in the despising of which the greatness of courage principally appears, especially in that which happens in the wars, fighting for one's Prince and Country, as being the most honourable and glorious of all.

The Third said, No vertue can keep us from fearing death, which gave so great apprehension to the most wise, and to our Lord himself, and which Aristotle deservedly calls the most ter∣rible of terribles; the same Philosopher also teaching us that a vertuous man infinitely desires to live, and ought to fear death; because he accounts himself worthy of long life, during which

he may do service to others, and he knows well that death will deprive him of all the goods of this world; since well-being presupposes being. Therefore courage do's not wholly take away the fear of death, no more then the sense of pain, which is natural; otherwise a couragious man ought to be insensible and stupid. But he governs this fear in such sort that it do's not hin∣der him from overcoming his enemy, although it render him more prudent and circumspect in seeking fit means to attain thereunto. Herein he differs from the rash person, who casting himself into dangers without having foreseen and maturely consider'd them, becomes faint-hearted in the chiefest of the brunt.

The Fourth said, A couragious man is known by what he at∣tempts without rashness, and accomplishes without fear; for he always represents to himself the danger greater then it is, to the end, to arm himself with strong resolutions, which once taken 'tis impossible to make him retract. His courage proceeds nei∣ther from experience nor necessity, nor desire of gain, igno∣rance or stupidity; but having well consider'd the danger, and judg'd it honourable to resist it, he doth so upon the sole ac∣count of vertue, and shews himself indefatigable in undergoing toils, and invincible even in death. 'Tis not enough that his cause be good, he will end it by lawful means, and had rather lose his right then attempt such as are unjustifiable and displeasing to his Prince. Therefore our Duellists must conclude that they abandon solid honour, to follow its shadow; since honourable and just are inseparable. The sword is his last remedy, and he uses it more to defend then to assault, but always with some kind of constraint, and yet none wields it with more sureness and grace, fear not causing him to make unseemly gestures. He hates nothing so much as vice. He speaks little but acts much, liking rather to be seen then heard. He chuses not the kind of death, but receives that which is offer'd, in which no∣thing troubles him saving that it deprives him of the means to do his King and Country more service. If his ill fate make him a slave, he will not employ death to deliver himself from servi∣tude, as Cato of Ʋtica did, shewing thereby a figure of cowardize rather then of courage; but he will so deport himself as to seem free in his bondage, yea to have dominion over those who com∣mand him. In fine, whether he be conqueror or conquer'd, he loses nothing of his magnanimity, but remains always like him∣self, firm in his resolutions. To attain to which greatness of spirit 'tis not enough that the structure of the body be large, or the heat of temper as great as that of Leonidas the Spartane, Mat∣thias the Emperour, or the Pirate burnt alive at Gradisca by the Venetians, the hearts of which three were found hairy; there must be moreover an heroick soul, informing this body.

The Fifth alledg'd, that the Original of courage is to be sought in the nobleness of extraction, whether it be known or

not. For though there seem to be some intervals in illustrious families proceeding from malignant influences, or other impedi∣ment; yet there is observ'd generally no less resemblance of chil∣dren with their Ancestors in mind then in body; Eagles never producing Doves, nor Doves Eagles.

CONFERENCE XLIX.

I. Whether there be Specifical remedies to every Disease. II. Whether Tears proceed from Weakness.

I. Whether there be Spe∣cifical reme∣dies to every Disease.

MEn, in imitation of Nature, always seek the shortest way. For which purpose they have thought fit to make maximes of every thing; whereas, to speak truth, there is no maxime of any thing; since by the most certain rule of all, there is none so general but hath some exception; yea some have so many exceptions that 'tis dubious on which side to make the rule. Nevertheless the minde of man forbears not to make axiomes in all Sciences, especially in Physick: whose Office be∣ing to govern Nature, it involves in certain general laws all dis∣eases, with their causes, symptomes and remedies, although as in the Law, so in Physick, two Cases are never alike. But when these rules come to be apply'd to practice, every one confesses that he finds them not wholly correspondent to what he expect∣ed. Now this is chiefly to be understood of particular Diseases and Specificks; as the Pleurisie, Cataract, or Gout. For ge∣ral Infirmities, as simple Intemperatures, may be cur'd by ge∣neral Remedies endu'd with contrary qualities.

The Second said, Specifick is that which is determin'd to some one thing, and hath above it the Generick; and below, the Individual. It is demanded, here, whether there be Reme∣dies so determined to one species or sort of disease, as that they sute to that alone. I conceive that since there are diseases of all forms, as Pestilential, Venomous and Malignant, there are also Remedies so too: and experience shews in many admirable Cures that there are Remedies whose effects depend not on the first Qualities; as that Rheubarb purges, that Mugwort is good for the Mother, and Bezoar a Cordial, comes not from heat and dryness in such a degree; for then every thing that hath the same temperament should be likewise purgative, hyste∣rical, and cordial; which is not true. But nothing hinders but a Remedy may be specifical to one particular Distemper by its oc∣cult qualities, and yet profitable and sutable to others by its manifest qualities; as the same thing may be both food and physick.

The Third said, That this Question depends upon another, namely, whether mixt bodies act only by their temperature and first qualities, or by their substantial forms or specifick vertues. For if the action of every thing depends not on the various mix∣ture of its qualities, but on its whole form and substance, Medi∣cines will never cure as they are hot or cold, but by a particular specifick vertue arising from their form, wholly contrary to that of the disease. For understanding whereof, 'tis to be observ'd, that as the natural constitution of every mixt body consists in a perfect mixture of the four Elementary Qualities, in the good disposition of the matter, and in the integrity of the form; so the same may suffer mutation in either of these three manners, either according to its temperature, or according to its matter, or according to its form. Whence it follows that every mixt body, as medicaments are, may act upon our Nature, by its first, second, and third faculties. The first proceed from the sole com∣mixtion of the four Qualities; according to the diversity where∣of, the compound is either Hot, (as Pepper,) or Cold, (as Mandrakes) or Moist, (as Oyle,) or Dry, (as Bole Armenick,) not in act, but in power. And by this First Faculty alone which follows the Temperament, a Medicament acts chiefly upon the Temperament of Bodies. Their Second Faculty arises from the various mixture of the same Qualities with the Matter. For a Hot Temperament, joyn'd to a matter dispos'd according to the degree of Heat, will be opening, cutting, corrosive, or caustick; and so the rest, which have a great latitude according to the degrees of their mixtion, from which they are said to be attenuating or incrassating, detersive or emplastick, rarefying or condensing, laxative or astringent, attractive or repelling, mollifying or hardning. And by this Second Faculty alone Medicaments act upon the Matter. The Third Faculty of Me∣dicaments arises not from their qualities or matter, but from their form and specifick occult virtue; as in Sena the Faculty to purge Melancholy; in Terra Sigillata or Lemnia, to fortifie the Heart against poysons; as also that Scorpions kill with the tail, and certain poysons cause death without any alteration of the Temper.

The Fourth said, diseases are consider'd either in their genus, in their species, or in their individuals. In the first way, as a Disease is nothing but a disposition contrary to Nature, and injuring the actions; so it is cur'd by introducing the natural disposition. In the second, if it be a intemperature (e. g.) cold in the second de∣gree, its specifick is hot in the same degree; if it be an Organi∣cal Disease, (as an Obstruction) the onely remedy is to unstop the passages; if it be solution of Continuity, all that's to be done, is, to conjoyn that which is divided. But if a Disease be consider'd in the Individual, then particular remedies of the same nature be employ'd, which are the true specificks.

The Fifth said, 'Tis true of the causes of Health, as well as of

those of Diseases; that the same thing is hurtful or healthful to one but not to another, not onely amongst the different spe∣cies, but also amongst the individuals of the same species, in re∣gard of the several circumstances. A remedy that recover'd one kills another; yea, that which not long ago was healthful to an individual person is now quite contrary. So that 'tis impos∣sible to assign any specificks for an individual person, which nevertheless is the subject on which the cure is to be done, and not the species of man.

The Sixth said, Every thing in Nature is determin'd to a particular action, proceeding from its form and essence, which is more adapted to such action then to any other. So a Tree is determin'd to produce one kind of fruit rather then another. Now the same may be said of Remedies drawn from the three families; some are proper to purge a particular humour, whence they are callld Cholagoga, Melanogoga, Hydragoga, Emeticks, Diureticks, Diaphoreticks, Discussives, Sternutatories, and Bechicks; others strengthen a particular part, whence they are call'd Cardiacks, Cephalicks, Hepaticks, and Splenicks; some have a faculty of resisting particular poisons; so Treacle is specifical against the biting of a Viper, a Scorpions flesh apply'd upon its own wounds heals it; Oyle of Pine-nuts is good against Arsenick; Long Aristoloch, or Rue, against Aconitum or Wolfs-bane; Citron Pill against Nux Vomica, or the Vomiting Nut; the seeds of Winter-cherry, against the Cantharides, or Spanish Fly; Mumie against Ulcers caus'd by Tithymal; the flower of Water-lilly against Hellebore; the root of Eglantine, Gentian, Bawme, Betonie, Pimpernel, are excellent against the biting of a mad Dog; and so others of the like nature. Some Medicaments are call'd Amulets, because being worne about the neck, or lay'd to some part of the Body, they preserve from Diseases. So, by the testimony of Galen, Peony worne about the neck averts the Falling-sickness; the dung of a Wolf eases the Cholick, and the Jasper strengthens the stomack. Trallia∣nus affirmes, that the Eagle-stone (Aetites) cures Quotidian Agues; the Beetle and green Lizard, Quartanes; that the fore∣head of an Ass, and a nail taken out of a shipwrack'd vessel, is excellent for the Epileptick Fits. The ashes of Frogs is good against bleeding; the Lapis Judaicus, and the blood of a Goat, are useful against the stone of the Kidneys; the water of a Stag's horn, and the bone of his heart, are excellent for infirmi∣ties of the heart. Now to refer all these wonderful effects to the First Qualities, is a groundless thing: And therefore Galen derides his Master Pelops for attempting to render a reason of them.

The Seventh said, That Physick, invented at first by use and experience, has nothing to do with Reason in things which fall manifestly under our senses, but onely in such as surpass their comprehension; which being confirm'd by Reason, are much

more infallible. Nevertheless when Reason seems repugnant to Ex∣perience, we must rather hold to Experience, provided the same be establish'd upon many observations. Now since Experience shews that there are Specifical Remedies, although humane wit, in re∣gard of its weakness, cannot find out the cause of them; yet 'tis better in this case to rely upon the testimony of the senses destitue of Reason, then to adhere to Reason contradicted by Experience. Moreover, if there be Specificks for some Diseases, there are so for all; but they are unknown to us by reason of their multi∣tude. And who is he that can know the virtues and properties of every thing which is in the world? The Chymists are of this opinion; for they hold that all Medicaments have Signa∣tures or particular marks and figures, by which they have re∣semblance with the parts or diseases of Man's Body, and which are, as 'twere, the titles and inscriptions imprinted upon them by God's Hand, to teach Men their faculties. Hence the herb Lung-wort is very good for the Lungs; Ceterach and Harts-tongue for the Spleen; Poppy and green Nuts for the Head; Satyrium for the Testicles; Winter-cherry for the Bladder; Birth wort for the Womb; Madder for broken Legs; Eyebright for the Eyes; Solomons seal, and Thorow-wax, for Ruptures; because the root of the one resembles a Rupture, and the stalk of the other passes through its leaf, as the Intestine doth through the Peritonaeum; the roots of Tormentil, red San∣ders, and the stone Haematites, for bleeding; blessed Thistle, and other prickly Plants, for the pungent pains of the side.

II. Whether Tears proceed from Cow∣ardise.

The Second Point may be determin'd by comparing the great and little world together. In the former, the Suns heat draws up vapours and exhalations into the Air; if the vapours be more in quantity then the other, they dissolve into rain; if less, then the exhalations are turn'd into winds, lightnings, and other igneous meteors. And as we cannot infer from thence, that the Sun suffers any alteration, or is colder and hotter; for whether it rains or be fair, he is still the same: So neither must we attribute new qualities to the reasonable soul, though it finds in the brain a matter either apt to be condens'd into tears, or to be resolv'd into the blustering stormes, and other effects of Choler; yet 'tis alwayes the same soul, which, according to the various temper of the body, is easily or hardly mov'd to tears. Women, Children, and old men, are prone to weep, because their brain is more moist then that of men of middle age; and again, those of them who are flegmatick and sanguine are more inclin'd to tears then the cholerick and melancholy; the latter least of all, in regard of the solidity and dryness of their brain, and the thickness of their blood. Although there is a sort of melancholy not-natural, much abounding in se∣rosities; and for that reason styl'd Aqueous by Hippocrates. Now weeping is caus'd in this manner. A sad subject seising upon the

Heart, the Arteries carry the fuliginous vapours thereof to the brain, which discharging the same into the sink, call'd the Infundibulum, or Tunnel, they seek issue at the next passages, which are the mouth, the nose, and the eyes, at the great angle or Canthus, where the Glandula Lachrymalis, or Weeping Ker∣nel is seated, which hath a hole like the point of a needle. This Glandule is made very small, whereas the Spleen, which causeth Laughter, and the Liver, which causeth Love, are very large; because Man might possibly want subjects for the two former, and consequently ought to be provided for, but not matter of sadness.

The Second said, As amongst Animals Man hath the greatest brain, so he needs the most Aliment, and consequently makes more excrements then any other; these are collected in the an∣terior Ventricles, and between the membranes, where they re∣main till the Expulsive Faculty, incommoded by their too great quantity, or pungent quality, expells them by the usual passages; and thus they supply wax to the Eares, mucosity to the Nose, and tears to the Eyes. Whereby it appears that tears are not alwayes signes of Pusillanimity, since they proceed from causes which no body can avoid. Moreover, Joy, as well as Sorrow, expresses tears, though by means wholly contrary. For Joy dilating and opening the passages by its heat, causes those humidities to issue forth; and Grief compressing the passages forces the same out; as a spunge yields forth the water which it had imbib'd, if you either dilate it or squeeze it. Their saltness, bitterness, and acrimony, is common to them with all the serosi∣ties of the body, which they acquire by their continuance they make in the brain, as their heat by the spirits which accompany them. For the tears both of Joy and Sadness are hot, or rather tepid, though those shed in Joy seem cold, because the cheeks are warme in Joy, which draws the heat and spirits from the centre to the circumference; and in Sadness they appear hot, because they drop upon the cheeks which are cold, through the absence of the heat and spirits caus'd by sadness to retire in∣ward. But those Tears which proceed from a disease, as from a defluxion or distillation, are really cold, because they are caus'd by the crudity of the humours.

The Third said, That Tears of sorrow come not from com∣pression, (for we cannot weep in a great sadness) but from a par∣ticular virtue which grief hath to send them forth. For Nature being willing to drive away the cause of Grief, sends the heat and spirits towards it, which heating the external parts attract the humours thither. Hence it is Onyons lancinating the Eyes by their sharp spirits cause weeping, as smoke likewise doth, and the steadfast beholding of an object, and too radiant a light, by the pain which they cause to the sight. Nor do's this hold good, onely in pain but in grief, particularly in compassion, which is a grief we resent for anothers misery. For the consideration of a sad object setting the humours in motion, and attenuating

them, causeth them to distill forth by the Eyes, mouth, and nose. This is also the reason why those who run impetuously on horse-back or afoot, sometimes drop rears; for the heat ex∣cited by this motion draws sweat forth over all the body; and tears to the Eyes, being of the same nature with sweat. Unless you rather think that this may be caus'd by the coldness of the new Air, which condenses and presses forth these humidities. Wherefore▪ we cannot absolutely pronounce that tears are Symptomes of Pusillanimity, seeing 'tis not in our power to re∣strain them what ever courage we have; and oftentimes ex∣ample no less invites us, then duty obliges us, to let this torrent take its course.

The Fourth said, If it be true that the most couragious are of the hottest constitution, 'twill follow that tears are rather a sign of Magnanimity then of Cowardice, since they are most fre∣quent to such as abound in heat and moisture. For as water is∣sues out of green wood heated by the fire; so tears are forc'd out of the Eyes by the internal heat excited by Joy, Grief, Anger, or other disorderly motion. For through the immoderateness of this heat the coldness of the Brain is increas'd by Antipe∣ristasis, and endeavours to with-stand it; for which purpose it collects together abundance of cold vapours, which the heat over-powering causes that cloud of humour condens'd by cold to distill by the Eyes in a showre of tears. Yet if this be done too often, then the same happens to the man as doth to a stick or cudgel, which being too much bow'd one way and the other, is at length broken. In like manner, a couragious person often provok'd so farr as to weep, at last becomes relax'd and softned through the loss and consumption of his spirits, which are the instruments of Courage. Therefore to weep too often is a sign of Pusillanimity and softness; never to weep, is stu∣pidity; to weep sometimes for the miserable estate whereinto this valley of tears reduces us, 'tis necessity. Indeed, Our Lord wept often. Saint Peter, so courageous that he struck the onely blow mention'd in the Gospel, wept bitterly. And Alexander wept for the death of Darius; as his own Triumphs caus'd Caesar to weep, in whom it was accounted Humanity that he wept at the sight of Pompey's head, as David did for the death of Saul.

The Fifth said, That as griefs are diminish'd by weeping, so it may seem that tears should soften the courage which proceeds from anger, as most doth. And as pity is opposite to revenge, so tears seem contrary to valour, since they are so both to re∣venge and choler, which are the effects of magnanimity. Add hereunto, that we live by example; and therefore seeing tears more frequent to weak and effeminate persons then to others, we easily draw a general consequence, although the same admit many exceptions.

CONFERENCE L.

I. Whether Colours are real. II. Whether is better, to speak well, or to write well.

I. Whether Co∣lours are real.

THe knowledge of men is never compleat: what they know in one manner they are ignorant of in another. Nothing is so manifest to the sense as colour, nothing so obscure to the Understanding, which doubts whether it hath a real ex∣istence, or whether it only appears such to us, according as bo∣dies variously receive the light. Indeed Green and Blew seem all one by a candle, and the same colour seems different from what it was by day-light; which again makes the species vary according to its diversity; for we judge of them otherwise in the twilight, in the Sun, and in the shadow; otherwise beholding them slopingly, directly, or through a colour'd glass, or neer some other lively colour. Are any colours fairer then those of the Rain-bow; and yet they are no more real then those of the Clouds. The whiteness which we behold in the milky way ariseth only from the light of many small Stars. The necks of Pigeons seem of a thousand more colours then they have. The Heavens, the Air, and the Water, have none but what we phan∣cy, or what their depth, and the weakness of our sight, gives them. The scales of Fish, some small worms, and certain kinds of rotten wood, shining in the night, seem to us to be colour'd. And Pictures are apprehended well or ill drawn according to their situation.

The Second said, The object of Vision is colour; the Organ, the Eye; the medium is a Diaphanous body illuminated. Pro∣vided these three be rightly dispos'd, the Organ and the medium free from all colours, and the object at a convenient distance, all men will necessarily behold colours as they are, and always alike: which would not be so if they were imaginary, or fortui∣tous. Besides, being the object of the sight, the surest of all Senses, they ought to have a real existence, as all the objects of the other Senses have. For the object of the outward sense must be real, otherwise it cannot act upon the Organ; and the Agent and the Patient ought to agree in the same genus.

The Third said, Colours, as all other second qualities, have a real existence, since they arise from the commixtion of moist and dry, caus'd by heat, and determin'd by cold. The first thing that happens in this mixtion is, that the humidity is thick∣ned by the accession of some dry substance; and of this co-agu∣lation is made a green colour, which therefore is the first of co∣lours, as may be observ'd in water, the grosser parts of which be∣come green moss; and in Plants when they first spring out of the earth. But if heat exceed in the mixtion, then ariseth the

Red, Purple, and other lively and bright colours, which ac∣cording as they degenerate, attain at length to Black, which is made by adustion. But when mixtions take a contrary course by cold, then arise all dead colours, which terminate in black too by a contrary cause, namely, the total extinction of heat, as 'tis seen in old men and dead persons, who are of a leaden and blackish colour. As therefore green is the first, so Black is the last of colours, yea 'tis properly no colour, especially when the humidity is already all consum'd, as in coals; or is separated from the dry parts, as in things become black by putrefaction, as the gangrenous parts of an animal. Neither is white a co∣lour, but a mean between colour and light. The rest are true colours.

The Fourth said, Colours cannot proceed from the tempera∣ment or mixture of the four first qualities, because mixt bodies of different temperature have the same colour. Sugar, Arse∣nic, and all Salts, are white, the Crow and Raven are black; and, on the contrary, one and the same mixt body of the same tempe∣rature in all its parts, is nevertheless of several colours, which it changes without mutation of its temper. Ebeny is black in its surface, and grey within; Marble, Jasper, and Porphyry, delight the sight chiefly by the variety of their colours; yel∣low Wax grows white, and white becomes black, in the Sun. Nor can any one say, that the part of a Tulip which differs in colour from all the rest, is therefore distinct in quality. Where∣fore since colours proceed not from the first elementary quali∣ties, they are no more real then the intentional species of the sight; yea they are the very same thing; for the visible species are nothing else but qualities streaming from every terminated body, which alter the medium, filling the same with their images which they diffuse even into the Organ. Now colours are the same, being qualities which actually change and alter the Dia∣phanous and illuminated body.

The Fifth said, This argues that we are ignorant of the rea∣son of the mixtion of every body, and why such a body hath such a colour, but not that colours are not true and real. Yet with this distinction, that the colours alone which are seen with the conditions requisite to sensation are real, that is to say, exist real∣ly, and not in the Imagination. For if it were not so, we should see them as well by night as by day, and with our eyes shut as open; as that foolish Antiphon did, who thought he always saw his own image before him. And a sensible faculty ought to have a real and sensible object, since the object must be of the same nature with the faculty. But there are colours which are not really in the surface of bodies, though they appear so to us by reason of the divers reception of light, or of some other ex∣trinsecal colour of a transparent diaphanous body, or some other external cause which hinders the eye from discerning the true colour of the mixt body; which colour though appearing

otherwise then it is, yet really exists, but is hidden under ano∣ther apparent one, which continues as long as its external causes. And colour'd bodies are no less so by night then by day; but because vision cannot be made unless the medium be illuminated 'tis only through the want of light that we see them not in the night. For although we perceive in the dark the eyes of Cats, Toad-stools, Worms, certain horns, and rotten wood, yet 'tis not their true colour, but a certain splendor different from co∣lour; which proceedeth either from their igneous spirits, or be∣cause they approach neer simplicity. There is, therefore, rea∣lity in colour; but it is consider'd two ways; either as a quali∣ty resulting from the mixture of the four Elementary qualities; (in which sence 'tis defin'd, by Aristotle, the extremity of a perspi∣cuum terminated;) or as being simply visible, and is defin'd, by the same Philosopher, a motive quality of a body actually diapha∣nous. In the first signification, the colours seen in the Rain∣bow, or the yellow colour cast upon a white wall by the Sun∣beams, passing through a glass or other medium of the same co∣lour, are no more real and true colours of those subjects, then the blackness upon Paper by reason of the ink hiding its natural whiteness. But, in the latter signification, every colour what∣soever is real, since the one is as well visible as the other.

The Sixth said, Colour differs not from light, saving that colour is the light of mixt, and light is the colour of simple bo∣dies, which the more simple they are, they are also more lumi∣nous. But if they communicate not their light, 'tis for want of density, which is the sole cause of all activity. The parts of Heaven are equally luminous; and yet only the more dense and thick, as the Stars, can diffuse their light to us. If this light grows weak, it degenerates into a white colour, as we see in the Moon and Stars; if it be more extinct, it turns into other co∣lours (as the Blew which we behold in a clear Sky) and forward into others, till it come to black, which is no colour, but a priva∣tion of it; as darkness is nothing but the privation of light. So that to dispute the reality of colours, is to question whether the clearest thing in the world, viz. Light, be real.

The Seventh said, Light and Colour differ, in that Light is the act of the Diaphanous body, inasmuch as 'tis Diaphanous, and Colour the extremity of the Diaphanum, as it is terminated. For no Diaphanum, whilst it remains such, is colour'd, but co∣lour ariseth from the condensation and thickness of the Diapha∣num, which terminates our sight. And though colour be as much in the inside of bodies as in their surface, yet 'tis not call'd colour, saving when 'tis visible, and 'tis visible only in the sur∣face. Light is incorporeal and immaterial; colour, on the con∣trary, is a material and corporeal quality. Light makes colour to be seen, but makes it self seen by its own vertue. Yet there is this resemblance between them, that every thing which we see colour'd, we see it as luminous (whence Plato, in his Timaeus,

call's colour a flame issuing out of bodies) and every thing that we see luminous, we see it inasmuch as 'tis colour'd: Whence the Stars appear to us of a pale, yellow, or red colour. And as that which is terminated is seen by means of the illuminated Dia∣phanum, so this Diaphanum is seen because 'tis terminated. For when we see the colour of a terminated body, we judge that there must be a transparent and diaphanous body between it and our eye. Wherefore, as the Intellect doth not know it self but by another; so the eye doth not see the Diaphanum, but by see∣ing that which is not diaphanous. But both the one and the other seems partly real, and partly imaginary, and arising from the various relation and proportion of the eye to the object and the medium: since, as for colours, not only some Pictures re∣present several personages, but one and the same Taffeta changes colour according to the divers situation of the spectator's eye. And as for light, you shall have a worm that appears great, and shines in the night, but is little, and grey, in the day.

II. Whether is better, to speak well, or to write well.

Upon the second Point it was said▪ There is so great an affi∣nity between Speech and Reason, that the Greeks have given the same name to both. As Reason is peculiar to man, so is Speech; and therefore (saith Aristotle) he alone has a large, soft and moveable tongue, not only for the distinguishing of Tastes, as other Animals, but for the uttering of words, which are the interpreters of his thoughts; call'd words of the mind, as the other are external words. 'Tis this Speech which protects Inno∣cence, accuses Crimes, appeases popular Tumults and Sediti∣ons, inflames Courage, excites to Vertue, disswades from Vice, and gives praise to God and vertuous Men. Writing it self hath not much force, unless it be animated by Speech, which gives weight and grace even to the least things. This was imply'd by the Ancients when they feign'd that Orpheus assembled even Trees and Rocks by the sound of his Harp, which is the Em∣blem of Speech. And, therefore, I judge Speech to have the precedence of Writing.

The Second said, There are persons who speak well and write ill; others, on the contrary, write better then they speak; others (but very few) do both well. And yet, if it be not through fault of the outward Organs, it seems hard to conceive how 'tis possible for a man to write well and speak ill, since 'tis the same judge which dictates to both Clerks, the hand and the tongue. For though one ordinarily goes swister then the other, yet they must both express the same thought. But 'tis often∣times with Speech as 'tis with faces, which seem handsome if you behold but a glance of them; whereas fixing your eye more wistly to consider them, you discern even the least faults; so a discourse, upon which you have not leisure to reflect, may seem elegant, yet displease you when 'tis unfurnish'd of its ex∣ternal ornaments, Pronunciation and Gesture. Moreover, we

see how little effectual a Letter is in comparison of animated words, to which I also give the precedence. 'Tis of little im∣portance to an Advocate whom his want of Eloquence causes to dye of hunger, whether his reputation be made to live after his death. Nor was it from the eyes or hands of our Gallic Hercules that our Fathers made the golden chains proceed which drew the people by the ears, 'twas from the tongue. And 'twas with the voice that the Father of Roman Eloquence oversway'd the mind of Caesar, and Demosthenes that of all Greece.

The Third said, I much more prize Writing, which refines and polishes our conceptions, which otherwise escape from great persons but ill digested. Whence arose the saying, That second thoughts are usually the best. Moreover, Writing is of long duration, and is communicated to many how remote soever in time and place. Which astonish'd the people of the new world when they saw that the letters which the Spaniards carri'd to their comrades communicated the mind of one to another; and they thought them to be familiar spirits. But when this Wri∣ting is well perform'd, it hath great weight with Posterity too; whence it is that we still admire the brave conceptions of antiquity, which would have perish'd had they been deliver'd only in words, which dye as they are born.

The Fourth said, Writing hath this inconvenience that it can∣not be comprehended by more then one or two persons at a time; whereas the Voice reaches to many thousand together; without receiving any diminution (which is some resemblance of Divinity) and consequently is the more noble.

The Fifth said, If we judge of the preeminence of Speech or Writing, by the difficulty there is in either (ac∣cording to the Proverb, which saith that the most difficult things are the most excellent) the question will remain un∣decided. For there was never either a perfect Pen-man, or perfect Orator; but if we judge of the advantage by the effects, 'tis certain that Writing hath more weight then Speech, and is therefore much more considerable. And though words once utter'd cannot be recall'd (no more then a written thing be re∣tracted) yet being consign'd to a very flitting and inconstant ele∣ment, they are of little duration; whereas being written they last to eternity. Which consideration so highly incens'd M. An∣thonie against Cicero, for publishing his Philippicks against him; and made Bubalus hang himself for what Hippanax had written against him, as Lycambes did upon Archilochus's Jambicks. For the benefits and mischiefs of Writing are great. Which makes for it, since the more excellent a thing is, the more hurtful the abuse of it is; and, according to Aristotle, Men abuse every thing, except Vertue.

The Sixth said, 'Tis true, Speech is peculiar to man, but 'tis a token of the impotence and weakness of our mind, which can∣not know other's thoughts in their purity, as Angels and blessed

Spirits do, who understand one another without external Speech. But the soul of man is so subjected to the Senses, that it cannot apprehend spiritual things unless they be represented to it as corporeal. Besides, Speech belongs not so to man alone, but that brutes (especially, those who have soft, large and loose tongues, as Birds) can imitate it, but Writing they cannot. Moreover, a thing is more excellent by how much nobler the cause is on which it depends. But to speak well depends on the Organs rightly dispos'd; to write well, on the understanding alone. For the Air, the Lungs, the Tongue, the Teeth, and the Lips, make the Speech; but the mind alone begets the thoughts which writing consigns to the sight, the noblest of the Senses. Eloquence is diminish'd by Diseases, old Age, or the least in∣disposition of the Organs; but the style which depends on the Mind alone (which never grows old) becomes more vigorous as the body waxes weaker.

At length it was said, That the present Question making up the Century of those propounded since the resolution of print∣ing, it seem'd fit to make them the first Volume of Conferences; and because this Number, the Season, the Example of others, the affairs which many have in the Country, and the necessity for minds as well as bodies to take some relaxation, require a Vaca∣tion for this Company; it is therefore adjourn'd till Monday before the Feast of St. Martin.

The End of the First Part.

Notes

• * 1.1

  Ludus Li∣terarius. Ludi-Ma∣gistri.
• * 1.2

  Nihil est ex omni parte beatum.
• * 1.3

  Jupiter est quodcunque vides, quod∣cunque mo∣vetur, Lucan.
• * 1.4

  Id quod in∣serius est si∣cut illud quod est superius.
• * 1.5

  You may see the figure of these Par∣helij in Des Cartes Me∣teors.
• * 1.6

  Splen ridere facit.—
• * 1.7

  Mundus 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, quasi 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 ornatus.
• * 1.8

  Eclesiasticus.
• * 1.9

  Sign. Weep∣ing.
• * 1.10

  Oderint dum mutuant.