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.

PHILOSOPHICAL CONFERENCES. PART II. Monday, November 6. 〈…〉〈…〉. (Book 2)

FOr Introduction to the Ensuing Conferencs, it seems requi∣site that an Account be given of two things I. Of what pass'd during the Vacation. II. Of some difficulties touching these Exercises.

As for the first; The Vacation was spent in the proposal and examination of divers Secrets and Curiosities of some Arts and Sciences, a few whereof shall be summarily mention'd in the order as they were propos'd; and most of which were found true by the person•• appointed by the Company, to examine and make experiments of the same.

The First was a way to describe a Circle, of what greatness soever, without knowing the Centre of it, but supposing the Centre were inaccessible.

II. A way to make the Vernish of China, black and yellow, gilded.

III. To make a plain Looking-glass representing the objects upon its surface, and not inwards, as they usually appear.

IV. To make a Spherical Mirror, representing the Figures in their true proportion, and not corrupted, as they are in the vulgar ones.

V. To make one or more very conspicuous figures appear in the Air, by the help of a Concave Glasse.

VI. To cool Wine speedily in Summer, and to freeze water for that purpose.

VII. To decypher all common and decypherable Cy∣phers.

VIII. To give the Invention of almost a number of Cy∣phers, which cannot be decypher'd; as, among others, to write with a single point for each Letter: with two Books, in which no extraordinary mark is to be seen.

IX. To write with a Cypher, which may be read in two dif∣ferent Languages.

X. To comprise under a manifest sense an other hidden signi∣fication, as ample as the first.

XI. To write upon a body which will never perish, not even by Fire; at which alone it is to be read, and to answer there∣unto by the same way, making the Letters disappear and return again at pleasure.

XII. A way of writing or impression, which represents all the properties of every thing, with as few Letters as the ordinary way of writing.

XIII. A way to give intelligence in six hours at a hundred leagues distance, without Bells, Canons, or the like means.

XIV. A way to give intelligence in an instant of what is done at fifty leagues distance and more, and that of a sudden accident.

XV. A way whereby a person being in his Closet may make his Mind understood in a hundred places of the house, and re∣ceive answers by the same way without noise, and without no∣tice taken thereof by those that shall be in his company.

XVI. To shew and teach the true Proportions of Mans Body, in one Lecture, as exactly as Albert Durer hath done.

XVII. To describe all Plat-forms, and designe all the orders of Columnes exactly, according to their true proportion.

XVIII. A way to engrave very easily with Aqua Fortis, with∣out knowing how to hatch.

XIX. To cast Account without pen or counters, by a way which cannot be forgotten.

XX. To learn the method of Writing in one hour, by retain∣ing onely three letters.

XXI. To keep Flowers, yea, a whole Garden, fresh, through∣out the year.

XXII. To learn all the tricks and subtleties of Juglers, and consequently to cease admiring them.

XXIII. To make two solid bodies actually cold, which being together shall become so hot of themselves immediately, as not to be touch'd; and to keep their heat for several moneths, and possibly for some years.

XXIV. To shew in a portable Instrument, in small or greater proportion, all objects that shall be presented.

XXV. To teach a Mother-language, of which all other Languages are Dialects, and may be learn'd by it: Which the Proposer affirmes so easie, that he will teach the whole Grammar of it in six hours; but six moneths are requisite to learn the sig∣nification of all its words.

XXVI. To teach all persons to argue without errour, in all kind of Modes and Figures, in a quarter of an hour.

XXVII. To shew a secret, by help whereof any man may pronounce any strange Language as naturally as his own, be it Astatick, African, or American, and he an European; or, on the contrary; which is a way to remedy the bad Accents and pro∣nuntiations both in strangers and natives, whereby they are so manifestly distinguish'd.

XXVIII. To make a Girder or Joint broken in two or three places, to serve without pins.

XXIX. To pierce a door immediately with a Candle not lighted.

XXX. To make a Pistol of a foot and half in length carry three hundred paces.

XXXI. To make a good quantity of fresh water speedily in the main Sea.

XXXII. To measure the depth of the Sea, where the plum∣met cannot reach, or where it is unperceiveable.

XXXIII. To shew all the feats and subtleties that are per∣form'd with Cards, as to make the Card you think of come at what number is requir'd; to tell 15. persons, who have two Cards a piece, what Cards every one hath, &c.

XXXIV. To draw two lines, which being extended infi∣nitely, shall always come nearer, but never meet.

XXXV. To make a light without Oyle, Wax, Tallow, Gum, or Fat, at small charge, which shall less offend the sight in a whole nights reading, then the light of an ordinary Candle doth in a quarter of an hour.

XXXVI. To make Glasses, through which the Sun doth not penetrate, though his light do.

XXXVII. To make old defac'd Characters legible.

XXXVIII. To continue under water for some hours with∣out a Tube.

XXXIX. To make a Needle which shall always turn to∣wards the North, though it were never touch'd with a Load∣stone.

XL. To make a Fire without combustible matter, portable in any place whatsoever, fit to boile withall, and which will last many hundred years, yea, as long as the world.

XLI. To make a Mineral Tree, of a mixture of Metals, which shall grow in form of a Tree in a vessel of Glasse well clos'd.

XLII. To turn Iron into Steel and Copper, to keep it from rusting; and give it such a temper, that a complete sute of Armes of three quarters less weight then ordinary shall re∣sist Musket-shot.

XLIII. To encrease a Man's Pulse so that he shall seem to have a Fever; and to diminish it so, that he shall seem a dying, yet both without prejudice to his health.

XLIV. Many Secrets were propos'd for the preservation of Health, and Cure of Diseases, the mentioning whereof I defer till experience shall be made of them; Credulity being not less excuseable, or more dangerous in any Art or Science, then in Physick; and therefore I am the more cautious and careful to publish none but certain things, and such as deserve to be communicated.

As for the second Point, which consists in the resolution of

some difficulties observ'd in the course of these Conferences; 'tis true, they were not sooner publish'd but some took exception that there was not a choice made of some few persons to speak, any that seem'd of quality being admitted to declare their Senti∣ments; because (said they) this diversity of minds, which is one of the wonders of the Universe, cannot but produce un∣pleasing discords and dissonances, sometimes prejudicial to the publick: or, at least, they advis'd to restrain their discourses to certain laws and modifications, and limit to a set space of time, which it should not be lawful for any to exceed: and this in or∣der to remedy the itch of speaking, no less then of writing, in many who are so fond of being heard.

On the contrary, others lik'd nothing so much in this free commerce of wits as an unconfined liberty; conceiving nothing more advantagious for the initiation of the young, the diver∣tisement of the old, and the honest recreation of all; nor which more testifies to Posterity the generous proceeding of those that govern, diametrically opposite to the tyrannical slavery of some others, then this publick liberty afforded to every Gentleman to produce and speak what he thinks in these Conferences, regula∣ted by the bounds prescrib'd by themselves, and so strictly ob∣serv'd, that the severest Censors of the host august Bodies, and Sovereign Courts, who are often present at them, have hither∣to found nothing to disapprove therein, the persons nominated by the Assembly to preside in the same, having comported them∣selves with such civility towards those to whom they signifi'd when it was time to cease speaking, that they have had abun∣dant cause to be satisfi'd, and the Assembly taken more content in the diversity of the Speakers opinions, then if they had been all of one mind; as the identity of many sounds do's not make harmony.

Afterwards some propounded that only two persons might speak upon a Question, one for the affirmative part, and the other for the Negative; and in that, at most, a third might conci∣liate their different judgements in things wherein a third opini∣on might have place; to the end the hearers might have no more to do but to assent to that which should seem best. But as this hath been practis'd sometimes, and may be continu'd in mat∣ters convenient for it; so it seems injust to others, to stop the mouths of the rest of the company, only for the hearing of two or three; besides the tediousness of a long discourse; whereas the multitude of concise verdicts resembles a Nose-gay diversifi'd with many Flowers of different colour and odour: besides that there are many subjects, concerning which so different judge∣ments arise that the number thereof cannot be limited; our Reason being so little captivated, that it finds out new paths every day to arrive at Truth which it goes to seek beyond the Imaginary spaces.

Some, to make these Conferences the more esteem'd, would

have them held but once a moneth: others were so far from being weary of them, that they desir'd them every day. But to comply with both, it was thought expedient to hold them once a week.

Some desir'd to handle but one Question; others, more. Ex∣perience hath manifested, that the former course would be te∣dious, and the latter full of confusion, could the brevity of the time admit it.

The Points pitch'd upon at the last Conference to be treated in the next, were these.

CONFERENCE LI.

I. At what time the Year ought to begin. II. Why the Load-stone draws Iron.

I. At what time the year ought to be∣gin.

SInce the Year begins by a Moneth; the Moneth by a Day; the Day by an Hour; the Hour by a Minute; the Question seems to demand at what moment the Year ought to begin. A Year is a space of Time; Time is the duration of motion; the most perfect of motions is the local; the most excellent of lo∣cal motions is the circular and celestial, which bath something of infinity. Now, to speak generally, a Year is the revolution of some celestial Orb, and takes its name from the spherical bodies which return to the same place from whence they departed. So the year of Saturn, is of 10955 days and twelve hours; that of Jupiter, of 4331 days, eighteen hours; that of Mars, of 687 days; that of the Sun, of 365 days, six hours, wanting eleven minutes; th••se of Venus and Mercury are almost like that of the Sun; that of the Moon is of about twenty nine days. But the longest year of all is that of the eighth Sphere, call'd the perfect or Plato∣nick year, at the end of which all the Stars are to return to the same places and distances that they had at the Creation, which shall be accomplish'd, as the Platonists say, in 490000 Solar years, by vertue of the Septenary multiply'd seven times, according to the number of the seven other inferior Orbs; but more probably, according to Alphonsus, in 36000 years, consider∣ing that the eighth Sphere moves but one degree in a hundred years, and so in 36000 years pervades the 360 degrees of the Zodiack. The Cynical year of the Egyptians and Babylonians was measur'd by the course of the celestial Dog, or of Orion, and consisted of 1460 years. The Sabbatical year of the Jews was every seventh year; the Jubilary, every fiftieth, in which they rested, and the Trumpets sounded. Which minds me of the Intermission which this company made at its fiftieth Confe∣rence, after which the Trumpet animates us to a new Career. Now although civil years may be measur'd by the motion of any

Celestial Body whatsoever; yet the Sun and the Moon, the two grand Luminaries, have been by general consent taken to de∣scribe the year; one whereof is call'd Solar, being the interval during which the Sun running through the twelve Signes of the Zodiack comes again to the same point from whence he set forth; the other is Lunar, being the space of time in which the Moon is twelve times in conjunction with the Sun (for otherwise the Lunar year, properly taken, is but one moneth) which year is of 354 days, eight hours, and some minutes; by consequence less then the Solar by about eleven days, whereof the difference and reduction is call'd the Epact. So that it must be known, in the first place, of what year the Question is to be understood. For if the Solar year be meant (as it seems to be) it must begin by the minute in which the Sun enters the first point of the Ram, who is for that reason said to open the year with his horns.

The Second said, The Year is a Circle, for that cause hiero∣glyphically represented under the figure of a Serpent biting his own tail, and nam'd by the Greeks Eniautos, that is to say, In it self, and by the Hebrews Schanah, which signifies Reiterati∣on. As therefore there is neither beginning nor end in a circle, so neither is there properly in a year, each moment whereof may be its beginning and its end. Yet God's command to the Jews to begin the year with the moneth of March, joyn'd to the probability that the world was then created, would make me to begin it so, had not Christians more reason to begin theirs by the day on which they receiv'd their most signal benefits from the hand of God, namely, our Saviours Nativity. Yet not by Christmas day, but on that of the Circumcision, 'on which the Son of God began to effect the mystery of our Redemption by the effusion of his blood; as the same Christians compute their years, not from the Creation of the World, but from the My∣stery of the Incarnation.

The Third said, There are six terms, by which we may com∣mence the year; namely the Apogaeum, and Perigaeum, of the Sun, the two Solstices, and the two Aequinoxes. The two first cannot be proper for it, because they are not fix'd points, but moveable according to the trepidation of the Firmament. Nor the Sol∣stices, since they are different according to the several Nations. For our Summer Solstice is the Winter Solstice to our Antipodes, who dwell in the Southern temperate Zone; and, on the contra∣ry, our Winter Solstice is their Summer Solstice. It follows then that the year must be begun by that of the Aequinoxes, in which the Sun first mov'd at the Creation, being the Spring-time, in which the earth, according to God's command, produc'd the Germen or tender Grass, and green Herb. And this likewise is the time when the State of Heaven is such that the Astrologers make their surest Predictions from it of the whole constitution of the year ensuing.

The Fourth said, That the year may with more reason be be∣gun

at Autumn, as being rather the Season when the world was created, for that the Trees are at this time laden with fruit; and God was no less provident to prepare food for man then he is for children new born, to whom their mothers no sooner give life but they have nourishment ready for them in their breasts.

The Fifth said, That being the Aequinoxes and Seasons of the Year happen not always at the same time in respect of all people, they cannot be a general rule for the beginning of the year, which 'twere more expedient to refere to the moment of the Cre∣ation. But because only he that knows the end of it knows the be∣ginning of it, there remains nothing to men but light conjectures: The fruits which appear'd upon the Trees concluding no more necessarily for Autumn then the tender Grass of the earth for the Spring, or the nakedness of our first Parent for Summer, and the sterility of the earth immediately after his sin, for Win∣ter. Yea, were the instant of the Creation known to us, we should be still in doubt, whether to begin the year from the day of the Creation which was Sunday, or from the fourth day which is Wednesday, on which the Sun and Moon were cre∣ated; since the year depends upon their Revolution; or lastly, from the sixth which is Fryday, on which Adam was created, who alone was capable among all creatures to compute their mo∣tions. I should therefore judge it best to take the Apogaeum of the Sun, or the moment wherein he is most elevated above the earth, as the most noble and eminent place in which he is found during the whole course of the year, being then as in his throne, from whence he makes himself conspicuous to all the world; ra∣ther then in any other place of Heaven, and consequently may then better serve for a signal of the end of one year and the be∣ginning of another. And although the years would not be per∣fectly equal in duration, yet the difference would be but small, and they would be computed by all men after the same sort, which is the thing requir'd.

The Sixth said, The commencement of the year is as various as that of the day; which the Persians and Babylonians began at the rising of the Sun, the Arabians from one Noon to another, as the Astrologers still do, to find the Houses of the Sun and other Planets: the Jews, from Sun-set, or from one evening to another, according to what is said in Genesis, that the Evening and the Morning were one day; which way of counting the hours is still practis'd in Italy, Bohemia and Silesia. The remain∣der of Christians reckon their day from one mid-night to ano∣ther; because the night was before the day, as we read, in Gene∣sis, that in the beginning darkness cover'd the face of the deep; but chiefly because our Lord was born at mid-night. So that 'tis an indifferent thing both where the natural day be begun, provided its revolution be always of twenty four hours; and where each people begins the Solar year, provided they agree

upon the revolution of the Sun, and end it at the same point where they began it.

The Seventh said, Although nothing be more certain then the measure of the Sun's course, composing the Astronomical year, which is divided into Conversional or Tropical, and Sy∣dereal. Yet being this course is not concluded in an intire number of moneths, days, nor yet of hours (for some minutes must be added to it) hence ariseth the difficulty to regulate the years; the confusion whereof has been encreas'd by the divers political and civil years establish'd by Legislators who have en∣deavour'd to comply in this point with the vulgar, which likes nothing but what is intire and easie to comprehend. Romulus began his year at the Vernal Aequinox, and compos'd it of 304 days divided into ten moneths. Numa observing that the course of the Sun, and the Lunations did no agree, and that the cold weather was often found in Summer, and Harvest in Winter, ad∣ded January and February to it. The progress of time having shewn that this reformation was still imperfect, Julius Caesar, 670 years after him, assisted by Sosigenes a great Mathematician, corrected the defect, adding three moneths to the year in which he made this rectification, which was the 708th year of the building of Rome; namely, two moneths between November and December, one of 29 days and the other of 30: and ano∣ther of 30 days at the end of December, to make up the days which were pass'd. So that this year Debtors had three moneths respite. Then he divided the year into 365 days, for this cause call'd from his name the Julian year. But because the Sun is neer six hours more in accomplishing his Period, he ad∣ded a day every fourth year after the twenty third of February which they call'd Sexto Calendas, and because in counting it twice they said bis sexto Calendas, this year truth thence retain'd the name of Bissextile, attributed by the vulgar to sinister and unfortunate things. And to confirm the moneths to the Luna∣tions, he was contented to observe that every nineteenth year the Moon is found in the same place; which was the discovery of another Mathematician of Athens nam'd Meton. And foras∣much as they mark'd this number of 19 in their Kalendar with a Cypher of gold, thence it came to be call'd the Gold Number. The Christians took up this Calculation as the best of all. But because there wants eleven minutes every fourth year to make the Bissextile or Leap-year intire, it was found that from the time of Julius Caesar to Gregory XIII. the Lunations and Aequi∣noxes had anticipated ten days, which render'd the Golden Num∣ber useless, and remov'd Easter and other moveable Feasts out of their true place. Therefore this Pope, assisted by Doctor Lilio a Physitian, retrench'd those ten days throughout all Christen∣dom, except in places who are not pleas'd with novelty, un∣less so far as it displeases the Pope. Which anticipation will al∣ways oblige future Ages to use a like reformation of the Julian

year; which we begin from the mid-night which precedes the first Sun-rise of the moneth of January. But the most sensible knowledge to be had of the duration and beginning of the Solar year is obtain'd by observing the day on which the shadow of the perpendicular needle of a Quadrant is found longest at noon, being a certain sign that the Sun is then most depress'd, and con∣sequently that we must there set down the end of the preceding year and the beginning of the next, which is visible by the ex∣altation of the Sun, whose shadow will not be found equal again till after the revolution of a just year.

II. Why the Load-stone draws Iron.

Had Stones life, as Cardan held, the solution of the second Question would be easie. For the Load-stone's drawing Iron would be no more a wonder then an Animal's going to seek its food. Now of those things which draw others, some do it for eschewing of vacuity: so water and other more ponderous bodies ascend, air and other light bodies descend, either of them against its proper inclination, to prevent a vacuum. Others do it, out of desire to obtain what they need, as their nourishment. So Plants attract the juice of the earth; the Gall-bladder, Choler; the Splene, the Melancholy humour; and every part, blood. Others do it by the mutual resemblance of the spirits issuing out of them; such is the first motion of affection arising between two persons of the same humour and inclination. But others are mov'd locally with out any manifest and corporeal cause; so are the vapours and the dew drawn up by the Sun; straw by Amber; the womb by good smells; the Load-stone by the North-star, the Heliotrope and Selenotrope by the Sun and the Moon, whose motions they follow. Now in attraction, it is re∣quisite that the attractive vertue be stronger then the resistance of the body which is attracted. The greatest resistance is from the ponderosity of a body; the elevation of which without ma∣nifest cause is accounted miraculous, and attributed by Divines to the Divine Power alone; as when our Lord walk'd upon the water. And so indeed would be the suspension of the gravity of iron attracted by the Load-stone, if it were not ordinary: the cause whereof may be ascrib'd to the meeting of spirits streaming out of the Iron and the Load-stone; which being viscous and once joyn'd together are somewhat hard to be separated.

The Second said, That as every body diffuses about it visible, odorable, and sonorous species, which appear not to us, unless they be reflected by some body proper to unite them; the visi∣ble species, by a Glass; odours by heat; sound, by a hollow body, such as makes the Echo: In like manner, the Load-stone and the Iron emit attractive species round about, which are lost, unless these of the one light upon those of the other; for then their nature is, so to conjoyn themselves that their union is in∣dissoluble otherwise then by violence: wherein there seems to be no greater marvel then in all other motions of natural bodies,

which act variously one upon another according to the dispositi∣on of the next matter. So the fire acts upon combustible mat∣ter, and not upon other; the reason of these affects depending upon the determination of every particular cause, the chain whereof is invisible and conceal'd from men.

The Third said, The Superior bodies act upon the inferior, and all motions here below proceed from those of the Celestial Bodies, which are therefore purposely contiguous. That of the Load-stone and Iron proceeds from the polar Stars, which act so sensibly upon this Stone, that being hung up in aequilibrio, it spontaneously turns one part towards the Arctick, and the other towards the Antarctick Pole; unless in certain places where it varies between five and six degrees, because 'tis drawn by a stronger magnetick virtue proceeding from the Earth. But this Stone draws Iron the more easily, because 'tis almost of the same nature with it self; and the Magnet is easily turn'd into Iron in the Mines by a coction made by the virtue of the same stars. For the liker things are, the more inclin'd they are to unite to∣gether; so Flame unites with Flame, the drops of water joyn together, a great Load-stone draws the less, and Steel attracts the filings of steel.

The Fourth said, As there is a civil converse between men, for preservation of society, so there is a natural one establish'd by God amongst the other creatures, for the support of their common being, consisting chiefly in their being mov'd one to∣wards another: Fire attracts unctuous exhalations, and it self tends towards the Etherial fire, the Air is drawn by the Lungs, the Sea is drawn up by the Moon, which causes its ebbing and flowing; straw and dust by the Agate, Iron by the Load-stone; the virtue whereof, together with the occult properties of all other bodies, I attribute to that universal Spirit which carries every entity to its particular good.

The Fifth said, If we would understand the causes of the mo∣tion, we must first discover their nature, which is the principle of motion. Now the particular nature of every thing is un∣known to all men, as well as the proportion of the mixture of their substances, whereon their occult properties depend, as the manifest qualities do on the mixtion of their first qualities; which we are wont to call manifest, not but that the reason of them is as difficult as of the rest, but because they are more or∣dinary. Which indeed has caus'd us to give them the name, e. g. of lightness to the fire, heaviness to the earth, though no person has hither to assign'd the cause thereof. Give but a name to this quality which the Iron hath of moving towards the Load-stone, it will be as manifest as the motive virtue which carries a stone towards its centre. We may indeed alledge the final cause of both, and say, in general, that 'tis the good of the thing mov'd that sets it in motion, or, on the contrary, the good of the thing whereunto it tends that moves and attracts

it, but the formal cause, which we here inquire, is equally unknown.

The Sixth said, That Iron is carri'd to the Load-stone as to its good, and as the stone to its centre; and hence it is that the Iron turns towards the North, which is the native place of the Magnet. For being a natural, not a violent motion, the motive faculty must be in the Iron, which moves it self; the goodness of the object attracting only by a metaphorical motion, which supposes a motive faculty in the thing mov'd.

CONFERENCE LII.

I. Of a Point. II. Whether other Animals besides Man have the use of Reason.

I. Of a Point.

IF it be true that there are more wonders in a Hand-worm then in an Elephant, because all the faculties which are ex∣tended and have their manifest causes and instruments in the latter, are found compendiously Epitomiz'd in the former, and (as it were) independent of their organs; there will be more wonders in a Point then in all the rest of the bodies which are compos'd of it. Indeed there's nothing so small as a Point, and yet 'tis the object of most Sciences. Grammar treats of the Point of distinction; Natural Philosophy, of the Point of re∣flection, and that which serves for the Centre of the Earth; Astrology of the vertical points, Zenith and Nadir, and makes use of them to compute the motions of the Celestial Bodies. Geography hath its four Cardinal Points. All Sciences and Arts borrow this word, to give some order to the things where∣of they treat. Lastly, it serves for a principle to Geometry which begins its first Propositions with it. And because, if we believe Plato, every beginning is divine; a Point which is the principle of a line (as this is of a surface, this of a body; an in∣stant, of time; and an unite, of number) hath something of Divinity; which Trismegistus, for that reason, calls a Centre or Point, whose Circumference is no where; and therefore they who hear us speak of a Point must not think that it is of an in∣considerable matter.

The Second said, Although much is not to be argu'd from our manner of speaking, in which the word Point (with us French) signifies a negation; yet it seems to imply, that if it be something, it wants but little of being nothing. For to speak truth, a Point is the mean which is found between nothing and something. 'Tis not an accident; for it doth not betide, befall or arrive to a substance, but is before, and inseparable from the same. Nor is it a substance, since a substance is infinitely divisi∣ble, but a Point is that which hath no parts, that is to say, is in∣divisible.

We cannot compare it to an instant in respect of time, for the time past hath been instant or present, and the fu∣ture shall be so; but a Point is not, and never shall be, a quantity, nor to a Unite, in regard of Number; since Number is made of Unites, and an Unite added to the greatest number whatever renders the same yet greater; whereas a hundred Millions of of Points together make but a Point, because that which hath no quantity of it self cannot give any. Nevertheless 'tis most probable that a Point exists really, since 'tis the foundation of all other quantities; and two Spheres exactly round touch one another but in a Point.

The Third said, As there is no mean between contradicto∣ries, so neither can there be any between nothing and some∣thing, Entity and Non entity. Now a Point being the term of a line, and every where in it, must consequently be some thing. Yea I maintain that it is a body and divisible, by this argument. One sole Being is not finite, to wit, the Creator; all others, to wit, the Creatures, and every part of them, are finite. Every finite thing is compos'd of parts, being compos'd of ends or ex∣tremities, and a middle. For it would be as ridiculous to say that a thing is finite with out ends, as to say that a thing is long without length, or hot without heat. A mathematical point is a finite thing. Therefore 'tis compos'd of parts. To say that it is finite negatively, and not positively, cannot hold. For as every mensurable solid is compos'd of and terminated by Mathematical surfaces, these by lines, and lines by points; so a point is compos'd of and terminated by its ends, which are its parts and extremities: these again being compos'd of parts external and internal, are also finite, and con∣sequently divisible to infinity. Therefore a Point is not fi∣nite by negation, which is nothing, since nothing is not the term of a Point. Neither is it terminated by it self, since every thing is bounded by some term which is without it; and if no∣thing cannot measure it self, much less can it bound or perfect it self. For 'tis so true, that every solid, how small soever, is di∣visible to infinity, that the Naturalists maintain that if by Divine Omnipotence (Humane and Angelical power being too short) a grain of Millet should be divided into a hundred millions of parts every moment from the Creation to the end of the World, the progression would never come to an Indivisible Point. This is justifi'd by the Section of a Circle or Globe. For if the Dia∣metre of a Circle be divided into two equal parts, the Centre of it, which is a point, will be semblably into two equal parts; for it must not be all on one side; otherwise the division would be unequal; nor must it be turn'd into nothing since 'tis not possible for any thing to be annihilated naturally. But if those two Semidiametres were re-united as at first, the two parts of the divided Point would be rejoyn'd into one point which would make the Centre again. In like manner if a Globe per∣fectly round touch'd a perfect plain, all agree that it would be

in a Mathematical point, which is not indivisible. For the point of the plain hath parts, since it hath all the situations of place whereunto parts answer, namely before, behind, above, below, right and left; and the point of the Globe touches the point of the plain in the upper part; now that which hath an upper part hath also an under part. Moreover, every point is part of the body in which it inheres; for a Part is one finite thing united to another, composing the whole with the other parts together. But the point of the Globe is such; else it must be said that the surface of the Globe is no part of it. Seeing there is the same proportion between a point and a line, a line and a surface, as there is between a surface and a body; and that when a Globe rouls upon many points, it rouls also upon the surface, which therefore differs not from them but by More and Less. Whence it follows that a Mathematical, point is a small term of quantity, uniting and terminating Mathematical lines without length, breadth and depth mensurable and con∣sequently a body. For it is compos'd of parts irrational and in∣expressible; that is, which the Mathematician cannot tell how long, broad and deep, they are.

The Fourth said, Nature has hid the highest mysteries in the lowest, and seemingly vilest things; which also are hardest to be understood; not so much through imperfection of essence; for an atome flying in the air is as true an essence as the whole earth: But because our senses perceive only such objects as are able to excite a motion in the Organs; now a Point cannot do this, and so the Intellect which judges of things by the species receiv'd, cannot receive those of a Point, nor consequently have perfect knowledge of it. Therefore the Philosopher defines not a point By what it is, but By what it is not, when he saith that a Point is something imperceptible inherent in the Conti∣nuum. Yet this knowledge of a point by negation, is not by negation of essence but of divisibility, it being of its own na∣ture an indivisible entity. For if it can be divided into other parts, 'tis no longer a point, 'tis a line, and must be so term'd how small soever it be. Essence not finite is incommunicable to the Creator, being a perfection of immense grandeur; yet a Point may be of an essence not finite too, because such essence is in a Point an imperfection, and privation of greatness. More∣over, a Point is either continuant or terminant; each of which is nothing but a mode of being, a respect and correspondence of parts one to another; which consequently may be produc'd and annihilated without miracle, as modes, forms, and figures are. For supposing a Globe exactly divided into two parts, there's no more inconvenience in saying that the Central point is perish'd, then that when a ball of Wax is press'd flat, the Sphe∣rical figure ceases to be.

The Fifth said, That as in the Creation natural bodies were made of nothing, so the production of Mathematical bodies be∣gins

by a Point which is a nothing: And (indeed) a Point is so far from being demonstrated a reality by the application of a Globe upon a Plain, which cannot touch one the other but by a line, that the most slender and inperceptible point of a Needle falling perpendicularly upon the most polish'd steel, yea (if 'twere pos∣sible) upon as small a point of another Needle, cannot touch one another but by the surface of their body: Whence it ap∣pears that a Mathematical Point is infinitely less then any mate∣rial point whatsoever, which only represents the figure thereof grosly to our senses.

II. Whether Brutes have Reason.

The second Point was prefac'd with the consideration of the difficulty of a fair discussion, because men are parties; and none is competent to determine the question but either he that is above both man and beast, or equally participates of both: it being as likely in the general cause, as 'tis usual in all particular, that men will arrogate the advantage to their own species. Yet man's dominion over beasts, the conformation of his body, the operations of his mind, and the works of both compar'd to those of other animals, seem to decide the question. For man alone knows, not only God, and the other creatures, but also himself, by a reflection of the Understanding, which is the highest act of Reason. His body alone is shap'd so that his eyes are erected towards heaven, his members are flexible and versa∣tile, especially his hand (the organ of organs;) he sits down most commodiously and gracefully at the exercising of all Arts; and his manifold artificial productions, perfecting and surpasing those of nature, find nothing comparable to them amongst those of other animals. And therefore I adhere to the Holy Scripture, which denies understanding to beasts; and to what antiquity, espe∣cially Philosophy, determines, which hath found no more peculi∣ar difference whereby to distinguish man from beast then Reason.

The Second said, Since Reason is the hand of Judgement, as the speech is of Reason, and the hand it self is the instrument subservient to speech; one of these degrees must lead us to the knowledge of the other. I mean, that since Reason is the hand of the Judgement, such animals as shall be found to have judge∣ment can no more be without Reason then a man naturally without a hand. Now all are constrain'd to acknowledge some judgement in animals, for otherwise they could not exercise the functions of their external and internal senses, which divers have in a more eminent degree then we. They have a Common Sense; for they distinguish the objects of the senses; a Phancy, since they are all equally lead to sensible good; many of them are indu'd with memory, as Dogs and Horses, which bark and neigh in their sleep; which cannot be done but by some higher faculty, uniting and enjoyning the species drawn out of their memory: an effect not possible to proceed from any other cause then Reason. But that which re∣moves all scruple, is, that they are capable of discipline; and

there's no feat of activity but they learn it sooner then Man; witness the Elephants which danc'd upon the rope at Rome, and the Goats which do as much here at this time; not to mention Dogs, Horses, Apes, and other Creatures which are manag'd, and Birds which are taught to speak.

The Third confirm'd this Opinion by the Example of the Elephant, who before the Tinker was paid, try'd whether the kettle (wherein he us'd to have his food) was well mended by filling it with water; of the Ox, who never drew up above a certain number of buckets of water; of the Fox, who caus'd the water in a pitcher to ascend by filling it with stones, and alwayes layes his Ear to a frozen river, to hear whether the water moves under the Ice, before he trusts himself upon it; of the Dog, who having scented two paths, casts himself into the third without Smelling at all, and concludes that the tract of his game; of the Cat, which although hungry dares not eat the meat she sees, for fear of the whip which she sees not. All which he said were so many Syllogismes, and concluded with an in∣duction of sundry Animals, which gave Man the knowledge of building, as the Swallow; of spinning, as the Spider; of hoarding provisions, as the Pismire, to whose School Solomon sends the sluggard; of presaging fair weather, as the Kings-fisher; the downfall of houses, as Rats and Mice; of making Clysters, as the Ibis; of letting blood, as the Hippopotamus, or Sea-horse; That to accuse our Masters of want of Reason, is an act of notori∣ous ingratitude.

The Fourth said, Faculties are discover'd by their actions, and these are determin'd by their end. Now the actions of Men and beasts are alike, and have the same End, Good, Profitable, Delightful, or Honest. There is no Controversie concerning the two former. And Honesty, which consists in the exercise of Virtue, they have in an eminent degree. Witness the cour∣age of the Lyon, in whom this Virtue is not produc'd by vanity or interest, as it is in men. Nor was it ever seen that Lyons became servants to other Lyons, (as we see Men are to one an∣other for want of courage) which prefers a thousand deaths be∣fore servitude. Their Temperance and Continence is apparent, in that they are contented with pleasures lawful and necessary, not resembling the disorderly Appetites of Men, who not con∣tented with one sort of food depopulate the Air, the Earth, and the Waters, rather to provoke then satiate their gluttony. The fidelity of the Turtle, and the Chastity of the Dove, are such as have serv'd for a Comparison, in the Canticles, of the Spouse. The fidelity of the Dog to his Master exceeds that of Men. The Raven is so Continent, that 'tis observ'd to live 600. years without a Male, if her own happen to be kill'd. For their good Constitution gives them so long a life, which in Men Nature or their own disorders terminate within a few years. As for Justice, the foundation of all Humane Laws is the Natural, which is common to beasts with Men.

The Fifth said, Reason is a proportion, correspondence, and adjustment, of two or more things compar'd one with another; whence it follows that being Comparison cannot be made but by Man, he alone is capable of Reason. Moreover, he alone exercises Justice, which is nothing else but the same reason which he judges to every one, under which is comprehended Reli∣gion, a thing unknown to brutes; when Prudence, Fortitude, and Temperance, are improperly attributed, because these are habits of the Will, (which Faculty brutes have not) and pre∣suppose a knowledge (which they want too) of the vicious Ex∣tremes of every of their actions.

The Sixth said, 'Twas not without Reason that the first Age of Innocence, and afterwards Pythagoras, upon the account of his Metempsychosis, spar'd the lives of beasts; that when God sav'd but four couple of all Mankind from the deluge, he pre∣serv'd seven of every clean Animal, and made the Angel which with-stood the Prophet Balaam rather visible to his Ass then to him; that this Animal, and the Ox, (whose acknowledgement towards their Masters is alledg'd by Isaiah, to exprobriate to the Israelites their ingratitude towards God) were the first witnes∣ses of our Saviours Birth, who commands to be innocent and prudent, like some of them. Which presupposes not onely Reason in them, but that they have more thereof then Man, with what ever cavillation he may disguise their virtues; saying, that what is Knowledge in God. Intelligence in Angels, Reason in Man, Inclination in Inanimate Bodies, is Instinct in brutes. For since a beast attaines to his End better then Man, and is not so subject to change as he, it may seem that a nobler name should be given to that Faculty which accomplisheth its work best, then to that is for the most part deficient therein. And therefore either a brute hath more reason then Man, or that which Man calls In∣stinct in a beast is more excellent then his Reason, a Faculty ordinarily faulty, subject to surprize and to be surpriz'd.

The Seventh said, 'Tis too rustick an impiety (to use Saint Austine's words against the Manichees, who inclin'd to this Error) to believe that beasts have Reason, since they have not a perfect use of all the outward Senses, but onely of such as are altogether necessary to their being, Touching, and Tasting: For Smells, Sounds, and Colours, move them not, further then the same are serviceable to those two senses. Nor must we deceive our selves by their having a Phancy or Inferior Judgement; so long as they have nothing of that Divine Piece by which Man knows Universals, defines, composes, and divides, comprehends simi∣litudes and dissimilitudes with their causes. They have an Appetite too, by which they are carry'd towards their proper Good. But because their knowledge of this Good is neither sufficient nor intire as that of Man is, who alone knows Good as Good, the End as such; this Appetite is rul'd and guided by a superior cause, (as a Ship by the Pilot) which cause necessarily

leads this Appetite to good, as it also inclines the stone to its centre, which it never fails to find. So that this infallibility alledg'd in the works of brutes is rather a sign of their want of Reason, which is the cause that Man endued with sufficient knowledge, and for this reason plac'd between Good and Evil, Fire and Water, can alone freely move towards the one or the other; whence it comes to pass that he frequently fails in his purposes, because his Reason oftentimes takes appearance for truth.

CONFERENCE LIII.

I. Whether there be more then five Senses. II. Whether is better, to speak, or to be silent.

I. Whether there be more then five Senses.

THe Maxime, That things are not to be multipli'd without Reason, is founded upon the capacity of the Humane Mind, which being one, though its faculties be distinct in their Operations, conceives things onely under the species of unity. So that when there are many in number, it makes one species of them; of many specifically different, one Genus; and, con∣sequently, can much less suffer the making two things of that which is but one. This has given ground to some to affirm, That there is but one External Sense, which ought no more to be distributed into five species under pretext that there are five Organs, then one and the same River which here makes bel∣lows blow, and hammers beat, presses cloth, and decorticates oats, or grinds flour; For 'tis one breath which passing through several Organes and Pipes renders several tones; one and the same Sun, which penetrating through various glasses represents as many colours. Moreover, their end is to all the same, namely, to avoid what may hurt, and pursue what may profit the Creature.

The Second said, This would be true, if the Soul alone were the Subject of Sensation; but when the Eye is pull'd out, although the visual spirits remain entire; or if the Eye being sound and clear, yet some obstruction hinders the afflux of the spirits to it, (as in a Gutta Serena) there is no vision made: An Evidence that seeing is an action of both, and, consequently, the Senses are as many as the several Organs which determine and specificate the same. But the Taste being comprehended under the Touch, by the Philosophers definition, must be a species thereof; and therefore there are but four Senses, as four Elements, the Taste and the Touch (which it comprehends) being exercis'd in the earth gross as themselves; the Sight in

Water, in which its Organ swims, and of which it almost wholly consists; the Smelling by the Fire, which awakens odours, and reduces them out of power into act; and the Hearing, in the Air, which is found naturally implanted in the Ear, and is the sole medium of this sense, according to Aristotle; the hearing of Fishes being particular to them in the Water, and very obscure.

The Third said, He was of Scaliger's mind, who reckons Ti∣tillation for the sixth sense. For if the Taste, though compre∣hended under the Touching, (as was said) constitutes a distinct sense, why not Titillation, which is a species of Touching too; considering that it represents things otherwise then the ordinary Touch doth, and hath its particular Organs, as the soles of the Feet, the palmes of the Hands, the Flanks, the Arm-pits, and some other places. Yea, Touching may be accounted the Ge∣nus of the Senses, since all partake thereof.

The Fourth said, That those actions which some Animals per∣form more perfectly then we, (as the Dog exceeds us in Smel∣ling, the Spider in Touching, the Eagle in Seeing, and many in presaging the seasons and weather) seem'd to be the effects of 6, 7, or 8 Senses; there being no proportion between such great extraordinary effects and their Organes, the structure whereof is the same with those of other Animals, which come not near the same. Yea, that 'tis by some supernumerary sense found in each Animal, that they have knowledge of what is serviceable or hurtful to them in particular. For example, who teaches the Dog the virtue of Grass, the Hart of Dittany? their ordi∣nary Senses cannot. Nor is it likely that so many occult proper∣ties have been produc'd by Nature, to remain unknown. But they cannot be understood unless by some Sense which is not vul∣gar, considering that all the Senses together understand not their substance.

The Fifth said, There are five external Senses, neither more, nor less; because there needs so many and no more, to perceive and apprehend all external objects: And as when one of our Senses is deprav'd or abolish'd, another cannot repair it, nor suc∣ceed it in all its functions; so if there were more then five, the over-plus would be useless, there being no accident but falls under the cognisance of these five Senses: And although each of them is not sufficient thereunto severally, yet they serve well enough all together; as in the perception of motion, rest, number, magnitude, and figure, which are common objects to divers Senses. Now if there were need of more then five Senses, 'twould be to judge of objects wherein the others fail. So that the super∣numeraries being unprofitable, 'tis not necessary to establish more then five. And as for substance, 'tis not consistent with its Nature to be known by the external Senses.

The Sixth said, Man being compos'd of three Pieces, a Soul, a Body, and Spirits of a middle Nature between both; the five

Senses suffice to the perfection and support of these three parts. Knowledge, which is the sole Good of the Soul, is acquir'd by invention and discipline; for which we have Eyes and Ears. Good Odours recreate and repair the Spirits. The Touch and Taste are the Bodie's guards, the first by preserving it from hurt∣full qualities which invade it from without; and the second, from such as enter and are taken in by the mouth. And therefore 'tis in vain to establish more.

The Seventh said, Since, according to the Philosophers, Sense is a passive quality, and Sensation is made when the Organ is alter'd by the object; there must be as many several Senses as there are different objects, which variously alter the Organs. Now amongst Colours, Odours, and other sensible objects, there are many different species; and the qualities perceiv'd by the Touch are almost infinite. Nor is it material to say that they all proceed from the first qualities, since Colors, Odours, and Tasts, are likewise second qualities arising from those first, and nevertheless make different Senses.

The Eighth said, Although it be true, that Faculties are de∣termin'd by objects, yet must not these Faculties be therefore multiply'd according to the multitude of objects. So, though White and Black are different, nevertheless because they both act after the same manner, namely, by sending their intentional species through the same medium, to the same Organ, the Sight alone sufficeth for judging of their difference.

The Ninth said, Since four things are requisite to Sensation, to wit, the Faculty, the Organ, the Medium, and the Object; 'tis by them that the number of Senses is determin'd. The Ob∣ject cannot do it, otherwise there would not be five Senses, but infinitely more. Nor can the Faculty do it, being inseparable from the Soul, or rather the Soul it self, and consequently but one; and to say that there is but one Sense, is erroneously to make an external Sense of the Common Sense. Much less can the Medium do it, since one and the same Medium serves to many Senses, and one and the same Sense is exercis'd in several Me∣diums, as the Sight in the Air and the Water. It remains there∣fore that the diversity proceed from that of the Organs, which being but five, make the like number of Senses.

II. Whether is better, to be silent or to speak.

Upon the Second Point it was said, 'Tis a greater difficulty, and consequently more a virtue, to hold one's peace then to speak; the latter being natural to Man, and very easie, when he has once got the habit of it; but the former is a constrain'd Action, and to practise which handsomely the Mind must be disciplin'd to do violence to the itch of declaring it self; every one conceiving it his interest that the truth be known. And there are fewer examples of those that have sav'd themselves by speaking, then of those that have lost themselves by not keeping Secrecie; justly term'd the Soul of the State and of affairs, which

once vented, of easie become impossible. Whence arose the name of Secretaries for principal Ministers and Officers of States and great Houses; and indeed, 'tis at this day a title affected by the meanest Clerks, testifying thereby in what esteem they have Silence. And the unworthiest of all Vices, Treachery, or∣dinarily takes advantage of this defect of Secrecie, which renders Men full of chinks, and like a sieve, so that many can more easily keep a coal in their mouths then a secret. On the contrary, Silence is so much reverenc'd, that the wisest persons, when they are to speak or write, come the nearest it they can by their bre∣vity; and that upon this account the fool, so long as he holds his peace, differs not from the wise. Therefore Pythagoras made it the chief point of his Philosophy, leaving his Scholars for five years to do nothing else but hear, and abstain from eating fish, out of the particular esteem he had thereof for its taciturnity. All Monastick persons account it one of their highest virtues, and the introduction to all others; and the Pagans made a God of Silence, nam'd Harpocrates, whose Statue held a finger upon its mouth. And both the sacrifices of this god and all their other mysteries, (which word implyes Secrecie) were perform'd with∣out speaking. Therefore Alexander meaning to teach Hephae∣stion, that he that would serve his King well must know well how to be silent, clap'd the seal of his Ring upon his lips. The greatest talkers are commonly the least actors; God having as 'twere put in balance words on one side, and effects on the other, as the leaves and flowers there, and the fruits here.

The Second said, As the corruption of things is the greater by how much the more excellent they are; so speech being the fairest ornament of Man, the abuse thereof is the most dangerous; and the rather, for that too much speaking is an incurable mala∣dy, since it cannot be cur'd but by the counsel of those that re∣prehend it, whereof great speakers are incapable, it being their custome not to hear any body. In requital for which they are avoided by all the world. For every Man thinks himself con∣cern'd to uphold the truth, and is therefore displeas'd when he meets one that would arrogate this right to himself, and frustrate all others of the glory which follows that action. But, which is worse, no credit is given to them, although belief is the end of speech. For Man affects nothing so much as to be esteem'd true and honest, because the perfection of his being consists in these two points) and therefore he employes his utmost endeavours to make himself believ'd such; whereas a babler finding no be∣lief amongst Men, and goodness and truth walking with the same foot, he is acounted to have neither the one nor the other. In∣deed great speakers are ordinarily great lyers; because words are not true but so far as they are weigh'd and balanc'd in the Mind, which being finite cannot know many things at once, but successively and with time, which the talker allows not to himself. And as Truth is in Unity, so is Lying in Multiplicity,

but especially in confusion, which is a diversity without order, and is almost inseparable from great discourses, and produces the like in the Minds of the Hearers, and consequently un∣beliefs.

The Third said, A Man should take no greater care then to govern his Tongue, because 'tis a member the easilest mov'd, and never weary. Hence old men are so much delighted with talk∣ing, because they have onely this member at their devotion. Which Nature fore-seeing, and that Man would have frequent and long use of it, hath given it a strong Ligament, ten Muscles, and three couple of the seven pair of Nerves which are diffus'd through the rest of the Body. Besides, Man being a sociable Animal, is naturally much inclin'd to discourse, which is the bond of humane society. 'Tis requisite therefore that Reason, which should govern all Man's inclinations, govern this of speech chiefly, to which the ought not give liberty except when the same may be beneficial to the speaker, or to the hearer, or to some other. Nevertheless, (to speak generally) as action is more noble then Privation, and Motion then Rest; so to speak is a thing more excellent then to hold one's peace.

The Fourth said, The moderation of speech, call'd Tacitur∣nity, is a species of Temperance, and hath its two extremes equally vicious; namely, immoderate talking, and dull silence, when one holds his peace, although a just cause obliges him to speak, as the acknowledgement of a truth, or of some benefit; and when our own interest or friends is considerably engag'd, or also when an occasion makes some discourse to be expected from us, as in a publick assembly, feast, or other place of re∣joycing, in which case silence is no less shameful, then too much speaking is every where distateful. This Virtue, which holds the middle, shews where, when, how, how much, we ought to speak and be silent; what things are fit to be spoken, and to what persons. As for things, they must be true, honest, and approved by us within, before they are expos'd and lay'd abroad; the Tongue must follow, and not go before the Mind, whose inter∣preter it is, as the Hand is the Tongue's Secretary, and for this purpose is lay'd upon the Heart, out of whose abundance it al∣wayes speaks, unless dissimulation alter the case. And as the constitution and temper of the Tongue, is taken by Physi∣tians for a certain signe of that of the internal parts; so the words are of the inclinations and habits of the Soul, which has its throne in the Tongue to make it self understood, as in the Eyes to render it self visible. Now the Tongue, being the prin∣cipal Organ of speech, hereby serves to put a manifest discri∣mination between Man and brutes; some of which make a sound, as Grashoppers; others have a voice, as all those that have Lungs, but none have speech. As for other circumstances, we must refrain as much as possible from speaking with fools, of wicked persons notoriously known such, and a little before per∣sons

of age and authority, or who understand more then our selvs; as also from speaking of a serious matter amongst mirth, or of a ridiculous matter in grave and serious affairs; we must take care to be silent in places destinated onely to hear, as in the Church, and in Judiciary Courts. Which injunction lies most upon Women, Children, and Servants. In brief, 'tis one of the greatest points of Prudence to know when 'tis a fit time to speak, and when to be silent.

The Fifth said, The Reason of Man is that Universal Spirit which is the Soul of the world, giving activity and motion to every thing; 'tis this that turns about the Celestial Spheres, and moves the inferior Elements by an innate principle. It makes it self understood by speech and writing, the nobleness of one whereof above the other seems to determine the question. Now Reason is more in controversie between us and beasts then speech, and speech then writing; for some admit a certain de∣gree of Reason and Judgement in brutes; and many of them, whose Tongues are soft, large, and free, perfectly imitate our speech; but they have nothing that comes near writing, which is solely peculiar to Man. Moreover, by Reason we are onely wise to our selves, by speech we are so to some few others who hear us. But by writing our Wisedom is communicated to all the world, and lasts to eternity. 'Twas by writing with the finger in the dust that our Lord confounded the Jews, without speaking a word; and when he was falsely accus'd before Pilate, he open'd not his mouth to defend himself. Now this writing, free from the troublesomeness of praters, borrows all its force from silence, which is more eloquent then all the talk of Men; but especially in respect of God, whose praise (saith the Psalmist) is silence, and with whom the lifting up of the Heart, and mental prayer, is more prevalent then all the voices and speeches in the world. Such was that of Moses, of whom it was said, in Exod. that he pray'd in his Heart; and yet God saith to him, Where∣fore cryest thou to me in this manner? Such is the silence of true worshippers, who worship in Spirit and Truth. Moreover, the Prophet Jeremy assures us, That 'tis a good thing to wait for the mercy of God in silence. The Angel Gabriel began his combate against the Dragon with silence. And Judith being upon the point to slay Holofernes, made her prayers to God with tears and silence. Besides, 'tis a signe of Humility and Modesty amongst Men.

The Sixth said, That to judge well of the Question, we must recur to Nature, who having given Man two Ears open, for one Tongue shut up, intimates plainly, that he has more need of hearing and holding his peace, then of speaking. And because the wounds of the Tongue (compar'd by the Royal Prophet to a sharp razor, and to a consuming fire by the Apostle Saint James) aresometimes more mortal then those of the Sword; she is not contented to put a reine under it, call'd Froenum Linguae,

to stop its intemperance, but hath also surrounded it with strong barriers, the two rows of Teeth, besides those of the Lips. But that which makes very much for silence, is, that Men oftner repent of having spoken, then of having held their peace. And 'tis not said, in the Holy Scripture, that Men shall be blam'd for having been silent; but that they shall give account even of the least idle words. Speaking therefore is more graceful, but silence is more safe; speech is the property of Man, but silence of the wise Man.

CONFERENCE LIV.

I. Of Touch. II. Of Fortune.

I. Of the Touch

WHat the Centre is in the Earth, the Earth amongst the Elements, a Star in Heaven, Sovereignty in a State, Faith in Religion, Natural Motion in Physick, Equity in Law, Rea∣son in Philosophy, the Body in Man, the Sense in a living Crea∣ture, that the Touch is in all the other Senses; that is to say, 'tis their foundation, and the condition without which none of them can subsist. For there are Animals which see not, as Moles; which hear not, as the Asp, and most Insects; which have not Smelling, as those who are troubled with rheume; which have no Taste, as most sick persons. But if there be found any which hath not the Sense of Touching, at the same time it ceases to be an Animal, since it is not term'd such but inasmuch as it hath a sensitive life, which consists in the knowledge of good and evil, sensible by pleasure and pain, the two symptoms of the Touch, and which alone bear the sway, and turn the balance in all the actions of Man; the scope of all which, is, either to pursue good, or to avoid evil.

The Second said, That, for this purpose, as sensitive life is diffus'd throughout the Body; so the Touch, which is insepa∣rable from that life, hath not, as the other Senses, a particular and limited Organ, but is extended into all the parts of the Body. Because, as among the objects of the Senses, onely the tangible Qualities give being, and constitute the Animal by their proportion and temperature; so they alone destroy it by their excess and disproportion. So that as onely a small part of the Body sees, another hears, another smells, and another tasts; if there had been but one part of the Body that could by touching have discern'd the quality of its object, it would have hapned, that whilst this part were delighted with one of those objects, the excess of some other might have destroy'd all the rest of the Animal, without its perceiving the same; and so it would have perish'd without knowing, and conse∣quently being able to avoid the same, which is the principal

end of the Senses; which, for this reason, represent death to themselves so terrible, to the end that the horrour thereof might oblige them to a greater care of their preservation.

The Third said, That as Man is surpass'd in other senses by brutes, so he excells them in Touching, which he hath most exqui∣site and perfect. He alone, of all creatures, has Hands wherewith to touch, and a smooth soft skin the better to judge of tangible qua∣lities. For being he was made to judge of things, it was requisite that he should be provided of a faithful messenger, as the touch is, to make him a true report thereof. And because he was design'd to more sublime actions then brutes, therefore he needed a more perfect temperature; of which the goodness of Touch is a most sure sign. Hence the Physiognomist reckons the subtlety of this sense to a most certain token of that of the Mind; as its contra∣ry, of stupidity; an exquisite Touch denoting the softness and tenderness of the flesh, upon which, consequently, tangible Qua∣lities easily make their impression; and this tenderness denotes the good temper of the Body, which is followed by sutable actions of the Mind. Hence it is that great wits have commonly weak and delicate bodies; but the stupid and dull the most robust and brawny. Therefore as the Touch distinguishes Men from brutes, so it does Men from one another. But the Sight and the other Senses do not so; for, on the contrary, it frequently comes to pass that great spirits have the shortest sight, and the other Senses less exquisite.

The Fourth said, That the Touch is not only the most necessa∣ry in all Animals, since it serves them for a specifical difference; (sensibility, which distinguishes them from Plants, being com∣monly taken for the faculty of Touching, witness our vulgar phrase, which calls one man more sensible then another, when he is more easily affected by the tactile qualities) but 'tis the sole sense of many Animals, especially, Zoophytes or Plant-animals, such as Spunge, Coral, and all kind of Oysters. The first of which hears not, sees not, smells not, and tastes not its nourish∣ment; but only dilates it self to receive it, and contracts it self to retain it as soon as it feels it neer. The second, by the rela∣tion of divers, who fetch it from under the water, averts it self by bowing the contrary way as soon as it feels the touch of their instruments. The last have no Organical parts; and if they had, the same would be useless to them, because they are destitute of local motion, and of every other sense, except that of Touching, by which they open and shut themselves. And which Nature has given, as gross as it is, for a supplement to the subtilest sense, to wit, the Sight.

The Fifth said, That the nobleness of the Touch appears, principally, in that 'tis the most infallible of all the senses; as the most honourable persons are accounted most worthy of cre∣dit. Therefore our Lord being to convince S. Thomas, at that time incredulous, caus'd him to feel his side; and manifest

things are call'd palpable, because the Touch is the last sense that is deceiv'd. Whence they who dream do not frequently find their errour, till putting forth their hands to the phantasin they begin to be convinc'd that it is nothing but air.

The Sixth said, That as 'tis a common vice to all the Senses to be deceiv'd, so that of Touch is not more exempt from it then the rest; and the less, because it judges of the quality of its objects only by comparison; according to the diversity of which one and the same thing diversly affects it, and is some∣times apprehended one way, sometimes another. A man that comes out of a hot Bath shivers in the same air which he ac∣counted warm before he enter'd into the water; and when he that learns to dance puts off his leaden soles he thinks his feet lighter then he did before he put them on.

The Seventh said, The Touch is an external sense, terrestri∣al and gross; it perceives hot and cold, dry and moist, heavy and light▪ hard and soft, smooth and rough, or unequal, acide, viscous or slippery, thick and thin, tough and friable, or brittle, and other such tactile and earthy qualities. For, as there are five simple Bodies in Nature, namely the Heaven and the Ele∣ments, so each of the five external Senses corresponds to one of them; the Sight to Heaven, in regard of its transparence and lucidity; the other four to the Elements; of which the Earth symbolizeth with the Touch▪ because every thing that is felt must have some solidity and consistence, which proceeds from the Earth; otherwise it could not make it self felt by it self, but only by some predominant quality, as we feel not the air when it touches us, unless it be extreamly cold or hot. The Organ of Feeling is inward skin which incompasses the whole body of a creature, by reason of its so perfect and equal tempe∣rature that it is neither hot nor cold, dry, moist, but equally partakes of all these qualities (a requisite condition in the Or∣gans of the senses which must be unprovided of all the qualities whereof they are to judge.) So the Crystalline humour is without colour, the tongue without sapour, the nostrils with∣out scent, the ears without any sound. And the skin is neither hard like the bones, nor soft like the flesh, but of a temper be∣tween both; being therefore call'd a Nervous flesh, and a fleshy Nerve: which skin, never so little touch'd, feels perfectly; which would not come to pass if it were not the Organ of the Touch. 'Tis therefore woven of infinite nerves, terminated in it and bringing the animal spirits to it, which are the efficient causes of the Touch as well as of all the other Senses. For what the Philosopher saith, That a sensible object apply'd upon the Organ is not perceiv'd, must be understood only of the three Senses which are for the convenience of an animal, to wit, the Sight, Hearing and Smelling; not of the other two, which are for its absolute necessity, upon which consideration Nature hath appointed them to judge more neerly, exercising these

two Senses by a medium internal and inseparable from the Organ.

II. Of Fortune.

Upon the second Point it was said, Fortune is a cause by ac∣cident in things which are done for some end, by an Agent that makes use of Reason. So 'tis fortune, when one walking for his health, or divertisement, finds a Purse: but chance, hazard, or adventure is in things which act for some end without election, as brutes, mad people and children, who are not fortunate, or unfor∣tunate, unless in hope. The difficulty of understanding the nature of Fortune ariseth from the infinite abundance of things which may be causes of things which befall men. And as 'tis proper to man to admire what he understands not, upon the observa∣tion of the many strange and unforeseen accidents in the world; some say that they come to pass by a fatal destiny necessarily guiding every cause to its effect; others, that they fall out by chance, to which the ancient Philosophers ascrib'd so much, that Empedocles accounted the situation of the Elements fortui∣tous; Democritus and Leucippus thought the production of all things was effected by the casual concourse of their atomes fly∣ing in the vacuum: insomuch that out of a blind superstition they erected Temples and Altars to Fortune. For indeed there is nothing divine in Fortune; since there is not any cause by it self but may be a cause by accident, and consequently For∣tune. Nor is it the Divine Providence, since that which is foreseen cannot be call'd fortuitous. But we give the appella∣tion of Fortune to any cause, which missing of its proper effect produceth another which it intended not.

The Second said, 'Twas the ignorance of men that invented Fortune, which hath no other existence but in their imaginati∣on. For every thing that is hath a certain cause determined to its effect. But Fortune and Chance are uncertain and inde∣terminate; therefore not causes. And although the proximate cause of every thing be unknown to us, yet 'tis not the less cer∣tain for all that, in respect of God, who ignores nothing. Therefore if there be a fortune in respect of us, 'tis an effect of our ignorance.

The Third said, We must establish in Nature either Destiny or Fortune. The former seems to fasten man to Ixion's wheel, which permits him not to do any thing of himself, and takes from him the commendation of good, and blame of evil; ren∣dring him by this means guiltless of whatever he do's, and lay∣ing all upon universal causes (whatever distinction may be made of God's will, in general and particular; it not being conceiva∣ble that two contrary wills can at the same time proceed from the same source. The second is more correspondent with the daily events, which produce effects whereof no necessary cause can be found. Indeed, if effects are to be divided according to their causes, 'tis certain that some are necessary and some con∣tingent;

whereof the latter being fortuitous cannot be referr'd to any thing but to Fortune. Yea of the things which come to pass in the world, some always arrive in the same manner, as day and night when the Sun rises and sets; others fall out ordi∣narily, but not always, as that a child is born with five fingers on a hand, there being some that have six; and others, on the contrary, arrive very rarely, as Monsters. But if this variety of causes and effects hath place in natural things, 'tis found much oftner in humane actions, whose constancy is unconstancy it self; there being not any whose effect is certain. For what man can promise himself that when he labours he shall infallibly become rich, that when he fights he shall have the victory, that when he serves he shall be acceptable, or that when he loves he shall be lov'd? Whereas, on the contrary, we see many persons en∣rich'd without labour, honour'd without fighting, and accep∣table without performance of any services; and (which is more) many times hated by those they love, and lov'd by those they hate. Of all which we must either assign some cause, or confess that there is no other cause thereof but hap or mishap, which they call Fortune.

The Fourth said, That Dionysius the younger, the Tyrant of Syracuse, was not of their judgement who disclaim Fortune, as∣signing the cause of his not being able to preserve the Estates of his Father, That he left him Heir of all, excepting his Fortune. Now the Ancients had Fortune in great reverence, and put her amongst their domestick Gods. And the Emperours religious∣ly kept her Statue of gold, which they sent as a badge of Em∣pire, to those whom they intended to design their successors. Thus Antoninus Pius, being ready to dye, sent it to Marcus Anto∣ninus the Philosopher; and Severus sent it to his two sons, Bassi∣anus, and Geta. Moreover, because it visibly bears the chief stroke in gaming, even in those Games to which she gives not the addition of her name, and depend not upon skill; there are found some, at this day, who think they can fix her to some thing which they wear about them while they are at play; others at∣tribute it to a particular situation of their bodies in respect of the Planets. But all agree, that Caesar ow'd more to his valour then to his fortune; that if she could not make an Orator of a Consul, or the contrary; yet she can make a poor man rich by play; and he must be a great Rhetorician that can perswade those who have good or bad luck, that there is no Fortune.

The Fifth said, 'Twould be too much presumption in us to accuse all antiquity of ignorance, which observ'd not only cer∣tain persons and places, but some days and hours fortunate and unfortunate, noting the happy days with chalk, and the other with a black stone. Moreover, Philosophers divide goods in∣to those of the Mind, the Body, and Fortune, comprizing un∣der the latter, Friends, Lineage, Reputation, Honours and Riches, which are the things men make most account of in this

world. And riches are so commonly attributed to her, that they are frequently denoted by the name of Fortune. So that to maintain that there is no such thing, is to go about to over∣throw common sense, and to correct Calepin. But her efficien∣cy is chiefly prov'd by the employments which happen to many, contrary to all apparence, according to the diversity of which every one makes progress, or not, in riches and honours. For he that labours in little things takes most pains, and gets least, and so, on the contrary, which cannot be attributed to any thing else but fortune, no more then the contracts, bargains, and other actions of men, which are made almost always by chance. Whence arose the Proverb, There is nothing but good luck and bad luck in the world. In War, such a great Captain is constantly unfortunate, whereas Timotheus was always the con∣trary, in whose Nets Cities came to be taken whilst he slept. In Physick, such a Doctor is always accounted lucky, whereas 'twas enough to kill a sick man but to have seen Hermocrates in a dream; not to mention what the Lawyers themselves call the hazard of Judgements.

The Sixth said, The Ancients did like the Gouty person men∣tion'd by Montagne, who ate Saucidges and Gammons, and drunk of the best, that he might have whom to lay the fault upon. They phancy'd Fortune, that they might have whom to blame for evil events, or rather to blaspheme against the Dei∣ty. She is a pure fiction of the Poets, who represented her up∣on a wheel, one half whereof always ascends, and the other de∣scends; to shew the volubility and continual vicissitude of hu∣mane things; blind, to signifie that good or evil doth not al∣ways befall us according to desert, but oftentimes without di∣stinction; sometimes a man, and sometimes a woman, but prin∣cipally the latter, to denote her inconstancy; all this mysteri∣ously, as all their other fables; to take which literally, were to do worse then the learned Pagans themselves.

The Seventh said, Every one is the Artificer of his own for∣tune, and all the Deities are present where Prudence is, though we rank Fortune among the Gods. Of whom we may say what Hercules said to the bemired Waggoner, who invok'd him, but touch'd not the wheel, Help thy self, and God will help thee; none having ever obtain'd the title of fortunate, but by great pains, watchings and industries; means, which the vulgar not observing so much as their effect, attribute it to a Deity. Moreover, dextrous men affect the title of lucky, because the vulgar esteems them the more for it; and the great est States-men hiding their counsels and the instruments they make use of to accomplish their designes, give occasion to this errour. Therefore when Zeno had lost all his wealth by Shipwreck he should not have said, Fortune, thou hast done well to bring me to this short cloak; but rather have accus'd his own imprudence in having ventur'd all his estate at sea. For

since there is nothing in the world but hath its cause, and for∣tune is that which is done by no cause, it follows that there is no such thing as fortune.

CONFERENCE LV.

I. Of the Taste. II. Whether Poetry be useful.

I. Of the Taste.

THe right handling of a subject requiring the knowledge of its differences, an Apicius might seem fitter to discourse of Taste then a Philosopher, in whom too exact a knowledge of Sauces would be accounted blameable; yet the word of Sapi∣ence or Wisdom, among the Latines, taking its name from Sa∣pours, the Sages who profess it may seem oblig'd too to be ex∣pert in this matter. Besides, this Sense supplies Physitians with the surest evidence of the faculties of every medicament by their Sapours; which are second Qualities resulting from the various mixture of the four first, whereof the Taste is an exter∣nal sense, discerning Sapours by help of the moisture in the mouth, and the Nerve of the third Congjugation, which is ex∣panded upon the tongue, whose flesh is therefore spungy and porous, the more easily to imbibe the same. Thus the object of the Taste is sapour or rellish; the Organ is the Nerve; the me∣dium is the flesh of the tongue, the condition without which it is not exercis'd is the humour, either internal, as that of the mouth (supply'd by the Tonsils or Almonds) or external, as the moisture which all bodies have either in act or in power. Whence, they whose tongue is dry cannot taste that which is so; nevertheless, the humidity must be moderate, since its excess no less depraves the taste then its defect.

The Second said, Since the Organ ought not to be prepossess'd with the quality of its object, the Tongue which perceives Sa∣pours which are all moist (call'd therefore, by the Greeks, Juice) must be destitute of all humidity: for that cannot be receiv'd which is possess'd already. And as there is in every Organ a principal part which makes the sensation more perfectly then the rest; so the tip of the tongue is more proper to perceive tastes by reason of the Nerves destinated to the sense of tasting, which are found more soft there then its root, and of the liquor which is more retain'd, and more subtile there, and consequently makes rellishes penetrate more effectually. And although some parts of these Nerves are expanded to the palate and gullet, yet the taste is very little perceiveable there. Therefore Philoxenus went upon a mistake when he wish'd for the neck of a Crane; for a long neck conduces nothing either to the advancing or con∣tinuing of the taste.

The Third said, Most Animals have the sense of Tasting, to the end they may distinguish their food from poyson, and what food is best, as the sweetest is. For all animals, and par∣ticularly man, are nourish'd only with what is sweet. Whence children, in whom nature being neerer its original is less cor∣rupted, desire sweets so much: and if we mix other Sapours, 'tis either because sweet things glut and disgust sooner, easily fil∣ling the Stomack, in which by reason of their unctuous consi∣stence they swim uppermost; or else because the depravation of our temper makes us sometimes desire contrary things to correct it, and sometimes like, to preserve it.

The Fourth said, Many Animals have no taste nor perception of Sapours, as, amongst others, the Crocodile, which also wants a tongue, the Organ of it; the Estrich, when it eats Iron; and the Wolf, earth: both which are insipid. Such was that Laza∣rus, mention'd by Columbus, who swallow'd glass, pitch, tal∣low, and other things, without disgust; and that Maid in the King of Persia's Court, who eat all sort of poysons, how corroding soe∣ver, and was nourish'd therewith. It being observ'd, in the dissecti∣on of their bodies, that the third couple of Nerves, which serve to the Taste, was reflected towards the back part of the head.

The Fifth said, Sapour is a quality of the aliment; but nou∣risheth not, because 'tis a meer accident; only by it the animal judges of the qualities of its food. The matter of Sapour is hu∣mid; because sapours are easily receiv'd and expanded in that which is humid, not in that which is dry. This humidity is not aerious but aqueous; otherwise Sapours might be receiv'd in the air; which cannot be, because the nature of this element is too thin and tenuious; but Sapour being gross requires a sub∣ject that hath some consistence to receive it. Nevertheless this aqueous humidity alone, is not sapoury, because 'tis a simple body, and consequently insipid. But Sapour proceeds from mixtion. It must therefore be joyn'd with somewhat that is dry, not with igneous siccity, because this makes the mixtum subtile, and apt to exhale, as odour ought to be, not sapour; but with that of the earth, which gives a body and consistence to sapours, without which they could not be tasted. And 'tis by means of this siccity with the humidity, that Mineral waters ac∣quire the sapours of the places through which they pass, and that the liquor of a Lie or Lixivium becomes salt, by mixtion of the more dry and adust parts of the ashes. But because these dry and humid substances difficultly mix, the particles of the one being unapt to touch the particles of the other, because both are gross and terrestrial, therefore there needs some supe∣rior agent, more powerful then either, to open and penetrate them, such as heat is, which by its various coction makes a dif∣ferent mixtion of the dry and the moist, whence arise dif∣ferent sapours; as may be observ'd in our meats and fruits of Trees, which differ in taste according to the degrees of heat.

The sweet and fat taste is for the most part produc'd by a tempe∣rate heat; the bitter, salt and acrimonious, by immoderate heat; the acide or sharp, the austere or harsh, and the sowre, by cold. The Sweet, such as that of Honey, comes from a perfect mixture of terrestrious with aqueous humidity. The Bitter, as that of Gall, from abundance of gross siccity mix'd with little humidity. The Fat, as Oyl and Fat are produc'd by excess of humidity. The Salt hath more humidity then the bitter. The Acrimo∣nious or biting, as Pepper, hath much of tenuity, and very little of humidity. The Sowre, as that of unripe fruits, comes from siccity and humidity equally indigested. The Austere or pon∣tick, as the juice of Oranges, and the Acide or Sharp, as that of Vinegar, proceed from very much humidity and little siccity.

II. Whether Poe∣try be useful.

Upon the second Point it was said, This division of things into necessary, profitable and delightful, is observ'd particular∣ly in speech, the soul's interpreter. For at the beginning Lan∣guages were only for necessity, void of all artifice, being em∣ploy'd to no other use but to make us understand one another; which sort of Language the first Philosophers employ'd to ex∣press the essence and nature of things. Afterwards History and Oratory enrich'd it with the addition of flowers and flou∣rishes. And, Lastly, Poetry added to those Words Number and Cadence, not barely to teach and instruct, as the other li∣beral Sciences, but withall to recreate and delight; which is an excellent method to prevent the disgust which the disciplines bring even in their rudiments. I therefore compare our Lan∣guage, consider'd in its original, to Gold yet in the Oar, min∣gled with earth; the same Language polish'd by Rhetorick to an Ingot refin'd from its dross; but Poetry to a goodly vessel of gold, not less rich for the workmanship then for the matter.

The Second said, That which gave birth to Poetry and makes it so much esteem'd, is the desire of imitation, proper to man alone; as he alone that understands the similitudes, correspon∣dencies and proportions of things. Hence it is that we admire the Picture of a Serpent, a dead body, and other things whose original we have in horrour; and we are ravish'd to hear the voice of a Swine naturally counterfeited, though we hate it in that animal. So Poetry and Painture imitate, and in some man∣ner do every thing that is done in nature; whence Poetry is term'd a speaking Picture, and Picture dumb Poetry. For a Poet do's not signifie meerly a Versifier, and one that relates things done, which is the property of a Historian: but as an Actor or Player by his postures do's the very things, so the Poet must both describe things and make them. And the word Poet do's not signifie one that feigns, but one that makes. When he speaks of a tempest he makes the Winds mutiny, Ships split, mountains of water clash and lose themselves in gulfes; when

of War, he makes you hear the clashing of Arms, the thundring of Cannons, and see the field strow'd with Carcases: and so in all other subjects which he treats. Wherefore, to be a good Poet, one must know every thing in perfection; which makes Poetry so difficult, and consequently so rare and admirable that few succeed well in it. For there are many Versifiers, but few Poets.

The Third said, There need no other Judges to condemn Poetry then Poets themselves, who call their highest conceits Fury, that is to say, Folly; whether it arrive to them from their fabulous gods, or more truly from the fumes of Wine, which cause them to make the best Verses, as they tell of Ennius: the frequentation of which is one of the greatest crimes that Cato imputed to Marcus Nobilior in the survey that he made of his Province: and 'tis observ'd that there is so great affinity between Poetry and Folly, that the best Poets have very odd actions and postures while they are making their works, and retain something thereof in their ordinary carriage.

The Fourth said, Variety of Wit has not appear'd in any Sci∣ence more then in Poetry. For it has not only different laws according to the diversity of Nations, which makes it doubted what sort of Verses those of Job are, considering that they have no resemblance with the Greek and Latine, no more then these have with ours. But neither were ours (which consist of certain numbers of feet, and consonances or rithmes) such as those in Caesar's time, in which he reports that the Gauls versi∣fi'd; and within a thousand years that our rithme began in imi∣tation of the Prose of the Church, French Poetry hath been so often diversifi'd, that the Poets of one age would not be so in another. And yet, sometimes under the name of Rithmers, sometimes under that of Devisers and Poets, they have been always very acceptable to great persons. And Charle magne prefer'd the Poems containing the exploits of his Predecessors before their Histories.

The Fifth said, That Plato and sundry other Politicians ac∣counted Poety not only so useless, but so hurtful to their Common∣wealth, that they utterly banish'd it from thence, because Poets by their shameful relations of the vices of the gods intic'd men to commit the like, conceiving they did not offend when they had the example of a god; and for that Verses are more proper for loose loves then the Sciences, of which the confinements of Poe∣try are not capable; besides that the enthusiasm of Poets cannot consist with the gravity of Philosophy; seldom with the pro∣bity of manners, and never with a setled judgement; the Ita∣lian Proverb being almost always found true, Di buona terra cattiva Gente, Di buon Poeta cattiva mente. Whence Aristo∣phanes saith that when Bacchus desir'd to find Euripedes or some other good Poet, he went down to Hell, because he could not any in Heaven. Moreover, their too great liberty of Satyrical

detraction, made them sometimes be driven out of Rome. Their dangerous doctrine has caus'd the reading of them to be forbidden to Christians by the Canons; and render'd them so infamous, that Philip, the first Christian Emperour, in the third Law, at the title of Professors and Physitians in the Cade, grants no immunity to them as he doth to all others. Indeed one may get his living in all professions with honour, except in Poe∣try; and if it always less fills the Poets Purses with Crowns then their heads with presumption; so (as it happens in all other Conceits, or Pastimes) it may be found sometimes proper for the divertisement of those few that have leisure to read them, but 'tis most unprofitable to the Authors; for few or none are advanc'd by it, but rather many have been hindred by this art of versifying from making their fortune otherwise. Yea their profession is so vile and abject, that whereas others count it an honour to be styl'd Physitians, Advocates, or the like, these are offended with the name of Poet. And that with good reason, considering that of all other Arts Poetry alone glories in disguising the truth. For which cause it begins to be banish'd even from Theatres, to which alone it was destinated; and Prose is come in request in sundry places, being preferr'd for gracefulness and naturalness; by which means this Art is in danger to be confin'd to the corners of streets, to serve only for Songs and Ballad••. Hence it was that Ovid was so severely punish'd by his father, to make him leave off this Art, which prov'd so unlucky to him, that for writing his Book of the Art of Loving, he became of a rich Roman Knight a miserable exile amongst Barbarians.

The Sixth said, 'Tis to be a sworn enemy of excellent things, or rather, as Scaliger saith, to renounce being man, to think of banishing Poetry out of States; which is slighted only by the ignorant, and hated by those that have irregular minds. For melody is natural, not only to man, but to all things in the world which God hath created in number and measure. Which made the Pythagoreans say, that not only the Celestial Bodies make a most agreeable consort, but also the Plants by their proportions, and the beasts by their motions chant measured Odes in praise of their Creator. Therefore with more reason must man, whose soul is a number moving of it self, be delighted with numerous language, which is Poetry, the most sensible effect of that di∣vine Harmony which is infus'd into his body. And we may make the same judgement of good from vulgar wits by their de∣light or disaffection to Poetry as by the recreation which they take in Musick. Indeed, if a wise man ought to be regular in all his actions, why not in his words, the image of his Reason, as Reason is of his soul. As if you should say that the well regula∣ted dance of a Ball ought to be less priz'd then the ordinary walk or a Country dance. Moreover, Poetry hath such power over mens minds, Tyrtaeus animated his Souldiers to fight by

the rehearsal of his Verses, which was also the custom of the Ger∣mans when they were to charge their enemies; Moses, David, and many other Prophets, accounted nothing more worthy then Poetry, to sing the praises of God. And the first Poets, as Musaeus, Orpheus and Linus, were the Divines of Paganisme. Yea the gods of antiquity affected to deliver their Oracles in Verse; and so did Legislators their Laws, to render them more venerable. Besides, they greatly help the memory; their ca∣dence or measure serving as a rule to the mind to keep it from being at a loss. Poetry alone, amongst all the Arts, supplies praise to vertue; the rampant stile of Rhetorical discourse, though it borrow its fairest flowers and square periods from Poetry, being not comparable to that of Poetry, which is far more sublime, and consequently, more fit to immortalize the memory of Heroick actions. Upon which account the Muses were believ'd the Daughters of Mnemosyne or Memory. Now if Poets have been sometimes expell'd out of States, so have Philosophers, Physitians, Mathematicians, and many other Pro∣fessors of Arts, acknowledg'd nevertheless very useful to hu∣mane society. If some of them have been lascivious, others impious, others slanderous, these are the vices of the Poets, not of Poetry. And as the more delicate any Wine is, the more hurtful its excess is to the body; so Poetry is so much the more excellent, by how much its abuse is noxious. Plato, who advis'd the banishing of it out of his imaginary Commonwealth, calling it a sweet poyson, deserv'd, more then it, to be really interdicted, there not being in all the Poets such fables, impie∣ties and impurities as that of his Convivium, his Phaedrus, and some other pieces. In the mean time he is forc'd to admire them, to call them the sons and interpreters of the gods, yea divine, and the fathers of wisdom. For their raptures cannot be call'd folly, unless in that sence that Aristotle saith, To Phi∣lo sophize well a man must be besides himself. But their wis∣dom being extream, and their motions unknown to the vulgar; therefore they call that fury which they ought to call the highest point and pitch of Wisdom; term'd Enthusiasm or Divine In∣spiration, because it surpasses the reach of man. And indeed every one acknowledges in Poetry some character of Divinity, and therefore 'tis receiv'd by all the world, and serves for a guide and introducer to great personages, who otherwise would not give audience, but like that well in Verse which they would blame in Prose. Which oblig'd Sylla to reward the good that they might be encourag'd to continue their divine works; and the bad Poets, on condition that they made no more. And 'tis of these, as of some Rithmers of our time, that they speak who blame Poetry; in whose reproaches the true Poets are no more concern'd then Physitians in the infamy of Mountebanks. The Fables of the ancient Poets are full of mysteries, and serve for ornament to the Sciences and to Divinity it self, as the gold

of the Egyptians did to the Sanctuary. But if they have in all ages complain'd of not advancing their fortune, this doth not argue any demerit of theirs, but rather the want either of judge∣ment or gratitude in others.

CONFERENCE LVI.

I. Of the Smelling. II. Of Eloquence.

I. Of the Smel∣ling.

THis Sense, which is the perception of Odours intromitted by the Nose through the spungy bone into the Mammil∣lary processes which are appendices of the Brain rather then Nerves, shews by the structure of its Organ that it is more par∣ticular to the Brain then any other. For the Nerves which car∣ry the Spirits for the performance of the other Senses are com∣municated elsewhere too; some of them to all the rest of the Body. Only these two nervous appendices of the Brain have nothing to do with any other part. It makes use of odours as a perfume, sometimes to redress its native coldness, as when it is pleas'd with Pomanders, Musk, L'eau d'ange (a sort of delicate compound water) Orange flower-water, and other Aromatical things; sometimes to cool its spirits overheated by continual action, as by the Violet, the Rose, or Jasmin; but always for their refreshment. For the Spirits being of an aerial nature, nothing recreates them so much as what resembles them, to wit, the Air, especially when it is tinctur'd with some friendly qua∣lity. Hence arise those different phancies upon occasion of smells. One swoons at the smell of Musk and the Rose, which others love so much. Another loves the scent of Rue and Worm-wood, so abominated by others, that some women have miscarri'd by it. And indeed of all the wonders resulting from the consideration of odours, there is none greater then the re∣lation they have to the womb, which is known to move it self to, and approach towards, and fly away at the motion of good or bad smells; which work upon this part by means of the animal spirits (call'd, for this reason, Impellers by the Greeks) which the odours powerfully move, and they all the other parts; but especially the womb which hath a particular sympathy with the Brain, the Conservatory of the Spirits; or else because the con∣traction of the Nerves, which is caus'd when an odour dis∣pleas'd drives the Spirits downwards, who by their impetuo∣sity hurry along with them the more fluid and moveable parts, as the Matrix is, when a pituitous humour has slackned its liga∣ments: as, on the contrary, the spirits being dilated to receive the steam of an odour grateful to the Brain with a full torrent, they attract it upwards by the same reason.

The Second said, Because Faculties cannot be understood but by the correspondenc they have to their objects; therefore to understand the Nature of the Sense of Smelling, 'tis first re∣quisite to understand the Nature of Odour, and by what Medium it is carry'd to its Organ. Odour is a patible Qua∣lity, arising from the temperament of siccity predominant above humidity; for though many drugs, waters, essences, and liquors, in which humidity is necessarily found, and siccity seldome, are very odoriferous, yet they borrow their smell from the dry exhalation mingled with their humid Body; from which if the same be separated, the humour remains in∣odorous. Neverthelesse this exhalation is not the Odour but the subject and vehicle of it; otherwise an Odour should be a Substance, and not an Accident, as it is. 'Tis convey'd to its Organ sometimes by species call'd Intentional, when it is remote from the same; or the Medium is so dispos'd that it cannot alter its Substance; thus the species of the Odour of a Worm hang∣ing upon the hook so exquisitely penetrates the water, that the fish though very remote instantly repairs to it; and many Ani∣mals scent powder at two or three leagues distance. But when the Odour is present to the Organ of Smelling, it hath no need of species, with which the Senses have nothing to do but so far as they serve to supply the absence of their Objects. The Nose receives Odours by its two passages, and for this reason it hath somewhat a long shape; a substance partly boney for firmnesse sake; lest closing together the passage should be stop'd, but car∣tilaginous in the lower part; for the more easie dilatation in breathing, smelling, and purging the Brain, the three prime uses of the Nose. The true seat of Smelling are two small sponges made of the anterior part of the Brain, passing through the Cuneal Bone near the cavity of the Eyes, call'd the Mam∣millary Processes or Productions; spirituous and vaporous, the better to receive Odours; and nervous, to distinguish them; lying upon the Cribrous or spongy bone which is full of small bones, lest the Brain might be hurt by smells if they were carry'd directly and impetuously to it; which danger is avoided by their being disunited and allay'd by this transcolation; and these two Caruncles, like the nibbles of Womens breasts, have alone, among all the parts of the Nose, a proper figure, a certain sign for distinguishing the Organs of the Senses. For the Brain can∣not do this office, because its extreme humidity would diminish the virtue of Odours.

The Third said, As the Nose, the instrument of Smelling, is plac'd in the middle of all the rest; so this Sense is of a middle nature between them. For 'tis more material then the Hearing and the sight, but more subtile then the Touch and Taste; al∣though it hath a great affinity with this latter, by which it per∣ceives its object, namely, Odours, which are distinguish'd by help of Sapours, and are divided according to their number,

agreable and disagreeable being onely its general differences. For there are as many particular differences as several subjects. Moreover, Sapour and Odour are compos'd of the same matter, and produc'd by the same heat; they are both qualities of food, whose good and evil faculties are discern'd by smell as well as by taste. Yet they differ in this, that some Odours are not of food but of delight, as that of Roses; with which kind of Odour Man alone is pleas'd, amongst all Animals, who are not delighted with Odours further then they signifie to them the goodness of their food; that which is said of the Panther, that all other Ani∣mals run after its smell, being accounted fabulous. They have also this peculiar, that Odours come from an igneous and subtile siccity predominant over humidity; whereas Sapours reside in humidity. Hence it is that flowers have more smell then leaves, because they are made of the more tenuious parts of the Plant; among Flowers, those that grow amidst bushes, and in other dry places, are more odoriferous; and Roses smell sweeter about Noon when they are dry'd by the heat of the Sun, then in the Morning when they are bedew'd with the humidity of the Night.

The Fourth said, Most Animals have a bad Odour, and Man the most imperfect Smelling; partly, because Nature hath thought fit to give this Sense in a more exquisite degree to Ani∣mals that live by prey, as to the Dog and Vulture, (and Man was to hunt otherwise then by the Nose) and, partly, by reason of the situation of the Mammillary processes near the Brain, more cold, and moist, and large, in Man then in any other crea∣ture. Whence it is, that Men know not the differences of Odours as they do those of the other objects of the Senses. Yet as there are Animals which are driven away by certain bad smells, Flyes by that of Brimstone, Serpents by that of Galba∣num, and generally all by the steam of the carcases of their own kind; so some Odours not onely drive away Men, as the fume of an Indian pepper, but are accounted mortal, not by reason of the smell, but of the hurtful Body which it introduces into the Ventricles of the Brain. As, on the contrary, there are Odours which recreate so much that they are thought to nourish; for they who are conversant among the smells of meat eat less; and the sole Odour of new Wine inebriates.

The Fifth said, Odour is a fumous exhalation excited by heat either internal or external. Therefore Gold is inodorous, its perfect mixtion hindring it from exhaling; and things chaf'd or heated have a stronger smell, because the heat draws out∣wards those subtile parts which cold incloses and keeps from ex∣expanding themselves; and odoriferous are diminish'd in time through the evaporation of their more subtile parts. So Wine, unless well stop'd, loses with its Odour its virtue and goodness, as if its strength consisted in its smell; and Camphire exhales utterly if it be not kept close. And Perfumes have a more

agreeable smell a far off then near hand, because the subtiler parts are scented at distance, and the grosser hard by.

II. Of Eloquence

Upon the Second Point, the First said, That if we cannot evince the Excellence of Eloquence above all other Humane Actions, we must confess that we have no Eloquence; for this is the golden chain which our ancient Gaules fastned to the Tongue of their Hercules, and made him draw all his Auditors by the Ears. Moreover, since 'tis the way to perswade, and per∣swasion is the way to do any thing whatever, there is no power that can equal it. Which to prove by Examples would re∣quire the transcription of all Histories. It hath disarmed Anger and Justice too a hundred times, obtain'd the Generalship to De∣mosthenes, notwithstanding his Cowardice and inexperience in the matter of War; the Consulship to Cicero, bent Caesar's heart for him, which the forces of the Romane Empire could not bend, when he so ravish'd him as to make him let the book fall which he held in his hands; so well can this Art of well speak∣ing master Bodies as well as Souls. Therefore Conquerours authorize their Cannon shots with reasons, and employ so many Orators to justifie their exploits, and make their government acceptable; and the Romans, though they became masters of all the world, never drew a sword out of the scabbard till they had first charg'd the fault by their manifestoes upon those whom they declar'd their Enemies. Which seems to be the onely difference between regular wars and pirates at Sea, or rob∣bers on land. 'Tis hence also that the greatest concussions of States, and revolutions of Monarchies, have proceeded from Religion, which hath also lay'd the foundation of some, bringing the Body into subjection by perswading the Soul; (whereas, when open force subdues the former, it loses the affection of the latter;) nor matters it whether the Religion be true or false, provided the people be perswaded of it. For being none are constrain'd to believe, as Theodosius the Emperour said, if the inward part be not won, people pay nothing but counte∣nances, like bad servants; and Man is so govern'd by phancy that good seems bad to him if it please him not, and bad good when he affects it. Indeed, all actions that a Man exercises by constraint are of the Animal, but those which he doth volun∣tarily are of the Man, distinguish'd for this cause from beasts by Intellect and Will; the former of which serving for a foundation to the latter, this Will is govern'd by Reasons, as a Horse by a bridle. This is the true Magick, of which so many Impostors falsely boast, whose admirable effects appear in all conditions, sexes, and ages. Is any thing dearer to an old man then his Crowns? Yet discourse entraps them, some under one pre∣text, some under another; and which is most strange, such a one shall bereave him of his wealth, whilst he makes shew of encreasing them. Is there any thing more precious to a Woman

then her Honour? yet insinuation oftentimes prevailes upon her; we love nothing more then life, and yet a well animated Oration will make people expose it to apparent danger. In brief, there is no kind of profession and mysterie, but owes what it hath most profitable to Eloquence. Preachers and Advocates lay the main stress upon it. Physitians, who seem to have less need of it, acknowledge its usefulness in their counsels, which were of small credit and authority without it. It is wholly necessary to Merchants for their selling. Upon which score, possibly, Mer∣cury was made the Patron of Negotiators. For perswasion, which is the end of it, needs not alwayes an Oration complete in all its members; the greatest pitch of an Orator is to contract himself according to time, place, and persons. A General of an Army animates his Souldiers more with three words, as he is going to charge the Enemy, then a Preacher doth his Auditors in a whole Lent. Even Gestures are sometimes eloquent, so the Curtesan Phryne carry'd her law-suit by discovering her fair bosome; as also did a Captain by shewing his scars, to their Judges who intended to condemn them. Whereby it appears how great the power and extent of Eloquence is.

The Second said, Since some were so hardy, the last Confe∣rence, as by speaking ill of Poets to disparage the language of the gods, let us examine that of men; that Pallas may not complain of the same treatment that was shew'd to the Muses. For not to strike the same string twice, the lasciviousnesse im∣puted to them seems more justly to belong to Orators and Poets; since Meroury (the god of thieves as well as of Eloquence) and not Apollo, was the messenger of the amours of the gods. Now 'tis hard for the Disciples not to retain some thing of their Master. Moreover, Socrates and Plato define Eloquence, the art of deceiving or flattering; and this latter banishes Orators out of the excellent Common-wealth which he took so much pains to contrive. But other real States have done them more evil, driving them effectively out of their territories, rightly judging, with Aeschylus, that nothing is more pernicious and prejudicial then an affected language embellish'd with the graces of Eloquence; which the more florid it is, the more poyson it hides under its flowers, which have nothing but ap∣pearance. Therefore the Romans, the wisest Politicians in the world, drave them so often out of their Common-wealth; as during the Consulship of Fannius Strabo, and Valerius Messala, when Cneus Domitius, and Q. Licinius were Censors; and under the Emperor Domitian. And 'tis one of the surest foundations of the Turkish Empire, and by which they have found most advantage; their forbidding the having, by this means, instead of an Army of talkers, good for nothing but to multiply noises and divisions, by disguising the Truth, innumerable stout fel∣lows of their hands, who have learn'd no other lesson but Obe∣dience: By which, from a small beginning they have subdu'd a

great part of the world, particularly Greece, which alwayes made profession of this talkativenesse. Yea, in Athens it self, the cradel of Eloquence, the Orators were forbidden the Court, the Palace, and other publick Assemblies, because they perverted Right; and Timagoras was there condemn'd to death for having made Complements to Darius, according to the mode of the Persians. The ancient Republick of Crete, and that of Lacedaemon, (the School of Virtue) were not unmind∣full to provide against these Sophisters; the latter opposing their design by the brevity of its Laconick stile; and having banish'd Ctesiphon, for boasting that he could discourse a whole day upon what ever subject were propounded to him. What then would it have done to Demosthenes, who commonly brag'd that he could turn the balance of Justice on which side he pleas'd? Is not Eloquence therefore more to be fear'd then the musick of the Syrens, or the potions of the inchantresse Circe, being able to involve innocence in punishment, and procure re∣wards to crimes? Moreover, 'tis a Womans Virtue to talk. And therefore Caesar disdain'd this present which Nature had given him; and few people value it but such as have nothing else to recommend them. Volaterranus observ'd few persons both virtuous and eloquent; nor do we find famous Orators in Mace∣don, which gave birth to Alexander, and so many other great Captains. 'Twas with this Eloquence that Demosthenes incens'd Philip against his own City of Athens; that Cicero animated Marcus Antonius against that of Rome; that of Cato was one of the causes that incited Caesar against the liberty of his Country; and yet Cato hated this art of Oratory so much, that he once caus'd audience to be deny'd to Carneades and his companions, Critelaus and Diogenes, Ambassadors from Athens to Rome, upon no other reason, but because they were too Eloquent. And, not to speak of the vanity of Orators, a vice more incident to them then to Poets, (witnesse the boastings of Cicero) their art is altogether unprofitable; since it serves onely to paint and deck the truth, which hath no need of ornaments, and ought to be plain, pure, simple, and without artifice. In a word, to re∣present truth adorn'd with flowers of Rhetorick, is to lay Fucus upon a fair Complexion, to paint Gilly-flowers and Anemonies, and to perfume Roses and Violets. But what may it not falsifie, since it disguises it self, covering its figures with the hard words of Metonymy, Synecdoche, and other barbarismes, to make them admir'd by the ignorant.

The Third said, That there being nothinb but is lyable to be abus'd, both they speak true who commend Eloquence, and they who decry it. When this faculty of speaking well under∣takes to make great things little, and the contrary, it frustrates their wish who would have things themselves speak. Nor is there any lover of eloquent discourses but prefers before elegant speaking the plainesse of a good counsel, when some serious

matter is in debate, either touching health, businesse, or the good of the Soul. And therefore I conclude, that Eloquence is indeed more graceful, but simplicity and plainesse more ex∣cellent and desirable.

CONFERENCE LVII.

I. Of the Hearing. II. Of Harmony.

I. Of the Hearing.

THe Hearing is the Sense of Disciplines, the inlet of Faith, which the Apostle saith, comes by Hearing, the judge of sounds and their differences; the cognition whereof is the more difficult, for that they are the least material qualities of all; considering that they are neither the First, as the Tangible; nor the Second, as Colours, Odours, and Sapours, depending upon the various mixture of the first; but of another kind of qualities which have scarce any thing of the grossnesse of matter. The little corporeity they have not proceeding from that, but from the Air which enters with it into the Eear. Neverthelesse sound is not wholly spiritual, for it presupposes in the bodies col∣lided together, hardnesse, smoothnesse, and such other second qualities, without which the collision of two bodies is not audible. But the chief cause of the difficult cognition of sounds, is, that they are produc'd of nothing, namely, of Local Motion, which (by the testimony of the Philosophers) is a pure Nothing, Motion being rather a way to being, then a true being. Not that Motion produces something that is real of it self, since No∣thing cannot produce any thing, but onely by accident and by another. So by friction attenuating the parts it generates heat, and by the meeting of two bodies it makes sound, which lasts as long as its cause, and ceases when this fails; contrary to other qualities, which have a fix'd and permanent existence in Nature. For the tingling of a bell which continues some while after the stroke, is not one single sound, but many; the parts of the bell being put into a trembling motion by the blow, and commu∣nicating the same to the parts of the Air contain'd in the cavity of the bell, which Air is so long clash'd together till all the insen∣sible parts of the bell be return'd to their first rest; and therefore the laying of the hand upon it hinders this motion, and conse∣quently stops the sound. And 'tis for this reason that it resounds more when it hangs freely, then when it is held in the hand; and some bells have been seen to fly in pieces upon the applica∣tion of a piece of Iron to them whilst they were trembling. The cause whereof is this; if while all the parts of the bell tremble, and equally move from their place, one part be check'd, it becomes immoveable, and so not following the agitation of the rest is separated from them.

The Second said, Though sound, (the object of the Hearing, containing under it Voice and Speech) is oftentimes accom∣pany'd with three things, the body striking, the body struck, and the Medium resounding; yet these three do not alwayes meet in all sort of sounds, as we see in that which is made by our bellows, the noise of a Petar, Salt, Chestnuts, and other aerious and flatuous bodies cast into the fire; because these fla∣tuosities being rarifi'd require an outlet, and therefore impetu∣ously break forth out of their restraint; which eruption striking the neighbouring Air produces a sound. The same is seen also in the Voice, which is form'd by collision of the Air in the Lungs against the Larynx, the palate and the teeth. So that the prox∣imate cause of sound is not the shock of two bodies, but the break∣ing of the Air when its motion is hindred. A piece of cloth makes a noise in the tearing, (but not in the cutting,) because of the sudden separation of the parts of the Air; which on the other side, for fear of Vacuum, are impetuously carry'd towards the place of their separation; and the wind whistles, by reason of the violent motion which it causeth in the Air; sometimes dri∣ving the same before it, sometimes pressing and wracking it; or because it meets some other wind or body that opposes its natu∣ral motion.

The Third said, A perfect sound cannot be made without the encountring of two bodies, and Air between them; for want of which, there would be local motion, but no sound in a Vacuum, and the motion of those great celestial orbes is not audible. Now these bodies must be hard and solid, either of their own Nature, as Copper and Silver, or by the union and construction of their parts, which makes them act and resist as if they were solid; such are the Air and Water agitated. Moreover, that this sound be perfect, 'tis requisite that the bodies be large and smooth; for if they be rough and scabrous, the Air which is compress'd finds means to expand it self in the interstices of the higher parts; if they be acute and pointed, they cut and divide, but do not break it. So a needle striking the point of another needle makes no noise, because it onely cuts the Air, but do's not compresse it. If these solid bodies be hollow and dry, the sound is made the better; and yet more, if they be aerious. Hence, among me∣tals, Brass, Silver, and Gold, resound more then Lead and Iron, which are of a terrene nature. Among Trees, the Sallow and the Fig-tree have a sound; and the leaves of Laurel crackle in the fire, by reason of their aerious parts. Lastly, the bodies must be friable, that is to say, divisible at the same time into very small particles, as Air, Glass, and Ice; or in case they break not, at least they must tremble in all their parts, as bells do. Therefore Water, not being friable, by reason of its tenacious humidity which keeps the particles together, cannot be the sub∣ject of sounds; that of running Water being made by the occurse of the Air upon its surface, not in the Water it self, in which no

sound can be made although it may be somewhat confus'dly transmitted; as 'tis to fishes, whom the noise makes to abandon the shore.

The Fourth said, Hearing was given to Man, to satisfie his natural inclination to understand the thoughts of his species by the utterance of words, which would be useless to conversati∣on, if they were not receiv'd by this faculty; whose dignity appears chiefly in the structure of its Organ, the Ear, both ex∣ternal and internal, which is destinated to the reception of sounds. Therefore the Philosopher derides Alcmaeon for saying that Goats respire at the ears. The external is Cartilaginous and tortuous, unmoveable in man alone, always open, on each side the head, to receive sounds from all parts, which are car∣ri'd upwards in an orbicular figure. The internal situate in the (os petrosum, or) bone of the Temples, hath four passages, viz. the auditory meatus clos'd with a membrane call'd the Drum, behind which is a cord fastned to the stirrup, the anvil and hammer, small bones as dry and big in children as in old men. 2. That which incloseth the natural and immoveable Air, the principal Organ of hearing. 3. The Labyrinth. 4. The Co∣chle or Shell-work. But the passage which goes from the Ear to the Palate and the orifice of the Wind-pipe is most remarka∣ble; by which the inspir'd air doth not only refresh the Lungs, but also the natural implanted air in the ear. Hence ariseth that sympathy of the Palate and the Ears; and to hear well, we sometimes hold our breath, for fear of disordering the species of sounds; and those that gape or yawn, hear little or not at all; because the vaporous spirit which causeth oscitation so puts up the drum of the ear, that it cannot well receive sounds; and for the same reason they that yawn dare not pick their ears at that time for fear of hurting the inflated Drum; which if it come to be touch'd, the yawning ceaseth; those that scratch their ears put themselves into a hawking or coughing. And lastly, 'tis for this reason, that such as are born deaf are also dumb, because of the straight connexion of the auditory Nerve, being of the fifth conjugation, with the seventh, which is at the root of the Tongue.

The Fifth said, Sounds are carri'd to the ear in the same man∣ner as they are produc'd; namely, by a fraction of the air ad∣joyning, which hath a sphere of activity, and is like that which is caus'd in the water by casting a stone into it; but without any intentional species: Otherwise sounds would be heard at the same time, and in the same manner, by those that are neer, and those that are far off; in regard the intentional species being spiritual is carri'd in an instant, being caus'd by a simple altera∣tion which requireth not the time necessary to local motion whereby Hearing is perform'd, and by this means distinguish'd from vision; in which at the same time the medium and the Or∣gan are both alter'd; whereas, in Hearing, the Organ is not al∣ter'd

till after the medium. Hence it is, that the wind helps greatly to the carrying of sounds; which would not be, if they were only intentional species; for visible things are seen as well in a contrary wind as in a calm air; and that sounds seem weaker a far off then neer hand.

The Sixth said, Among the objects of the Senses sounds and odours have alone had the honour to be dedicated to the Dei∣ty: Melodie and Incense having always been employ'd in Di∣vine Service; either because the humane soul is most delighted therewith; or for that either of them being somewise spiritual and corporeal, God requires that we offer him both the body and the spirit; whereas Daemons abhor nothing more then Har∣mony and Perfumes, as ill suting to their irregular and infected nature. And sounds have so great affinity with the soul, that according to their cadence and their tones, they excite compas∣sion, cruelty, joy, sadness, courage, fear, lasciviousness and cha∣stity; whence it was said that Aegysthus could never debauch Clytemnestra till he had kill'd her Musitian. Because all our actions and inclinations depending upon our spirits, they are modefi'd and made like to the sounds which they receive by the ear. So that if the sounds be tremulous, grave, sharp, quick or flow, the spirits become so too; and consequently the Mus∣cles, which are instruments of voluntary motion, having no acti∣on but by means of the spirits, they impress upon them, and make them follow such cadence as they like. Hence it is, that hearing others sing, we fall a singing too without thinking of it; with those that whisper, we whisper too; with those that speak loud, we speak so also: that the air of the Musitian stirs our members to conform to it, and that our spirits are displeas'd with bad cadences; as if the outward air had an absolute domi∣nion over our spirits.

II. Of Harmony.

Upon the second Point, it was said, That Harmony is taken for any proportion and agreement, but chiefly for that of sounds, in which it is more perceptible; and that even by the ignorant. Its invention is ascrib'd to Tubal the first Smith, upon his obser∣vation of the various sounds that the strokes of his Hammer made upon his Anvil; which Pythagoras also made use of to find out the proportion of his musical numbers. Of which having elsewhere spoken, I shall only add here, that Harmony presup∣poses many sounds, for one alone makes but a Monotone, and two an unpleasing reciprocation: but six notes are requisite to perfect Musick, industriously compriz'd in the Hymn, ƲT que∣ant LAxis REsonare fibris MIra gestorum, &c. This harmony is either vocal or instrumental; the former whereof having graces and variations inimitable by instruments far surpasses the latter, but their mixture is most agreeable.

The Second said, Nature seems to have made a show of her goodliest effects to our Senses, and conceal'd their causes from

our knowledge. Musical harmony aims at the instruction of men; that of man's body is the admirable artifice of the For∣mative faculty, which Galen calls divine; but the harmony of the world puts our curiosity most to a non-plus. 'Tis the cause why water, notwithstanding its fluidity, gathers it self into a heap, to leave dry land for the habitation of animals; and that the earth, which should settle about its centre, by its equal gra∣vity, yet rises up in mountains. The air is alter'd by all sort of qualities, that it may give a good one to the earth. The fire descends from its sphere to be captivated in Furnaces for our use, and is imprison'd in cavities of the earth to pro∣mote the generation of Metals. The Heavens move for the benefit of inferiour bodies, in a place where they might enjoy eternal rest. 'Tis through this harmony that the water be∣comes thick at the bottom, and contracts alliance with the earth, while its surface resolves into vapours; the rudiments of air, whose highest region likewise approaches the nature of fire; and this has somewhat of Aethereal, and the constitution of the Heavens on which it borders and conjoyns with this inferiour world. The cause of this chain and connexion is an universal vertue comprehended in the extent of each being, besides the proper motive vertue destinated to content its appetite. The necessity of this vertue is a certain evidence of its existence; for since every thing conspires for the general good of the world, and withstands the division of its parts, Nature must have al∣lotted them a power which may guide them to that end; now this power is not extrinsecal, since it resides in the subject it self. Nor is it the motive vertue; for this and that have two diffe∣rent objects and ends, namely, the publick, and the particular good, which are not always contain'd one in the other. Be∣sides, 'twould be a manifest contradiction, to say that by one and the same vertue things expose themselves to the loss of their proper qualities for the publick good, and keep them when only their particular is concern'd. Wherefore there is one ge∣neral law, which having authority to force all things to con∣tract amities not sorting to their inclination, is above that ver∣tue, which leads things directly to their own good: which is the cause of the excellent harmony observ'd in the whole world.

The Third said, Indeed Harmony is every where between the Creator and his Creatures both spiritual and corporeal; in the Hierarchies of bless'd Spirits one with another, in the assistance of the motive Intelligences with their orbs; between the great and the little world; in the latter of which the Scripture sets forth to us a perpetual musick of the blessed in the the Empireal Heaven; Plato, a harmony proceeding from the motion of the Celestial bodies. Daily experience makes us hear in the air a consort of winds; the Sea beats a measure by its ebbing and flowing; the Birds of the air perform the Cantus; the Beasts,

the Base; the Fishes, the Tacet; Man, the Tenor; who again in the structure of his body and soul is a perfect harmony. In the body, the temperature of the humours is so harmonical, that their disproportion drives away the soul, which Galen upon this account calls harmony. In the soul, so long as Reason holds the sovereignty, and constrains the murmuring Appetite to hold its base, there results from it a harmony delectable to God and Men. On the contrary, if you would apprehend its dis∣cord, do but imagine the disorderly uproar excited by choler, and the other passions get the mastery over Reason. Yea mans whole life is either a perpetual harmony or discord. In Religi∣on, when one Head is acknowledg'd, and every one submits thereunto for Conscience sake, and keeps his station; how beautiful are those Tabernacles of Sion, and how agreeable is this Church to its Spouse, to those that behold it in this estate, and to it self? On the contrary, in Schism and Heresie, when every one abounds in his own sence, and will not depend upon any other, how unpleasing is this division even to those that fo∣ment it? In the State, when a just Monarch well counsell'd holds the Sovereignty; the Church, the Nobility, and the third Estate, the other parts; nothing is impossible to him either within or without. He may do every thing that he will, be∣cause he will do nothing but what is just. On the contrary, re∣present to your self the horrible Tragedies of a Faction revolted against its Prince, or of a furious Triumvirate, and you will see the difference between harmony and discord; whereof the dif∣ference and power is so notable, as to all our actions, that he shall speak truth who shall establish it for the cause of all that is either pleasing to us, or disagreeable. So the same materials of two buildings differently set together will render one beautiful, the other deformed. Of two countenances compos'd of the same parts, the proportion of the one will invite love, while there is nothing but hatred and aversion for the other. Yea this Harmony extends its jurisdiction even to things incorporeal. An injust action displeases though it do not concern us; and the most peaceable man in the world can hardly forbear to interess himself when he sees a great scoundrel outrage some poor little child. The disproportion which appears in the attire of ano∣ther offends us, as when we see a Porter's wife better cloth'd then a Counsellours; of which the reason seems to me, that our soul being a harmony, is not pleas'd but with what resembles it self.

The Fourth said, Effects, the surest evidences of their causes, so apparently speak the power of Harmony, that Orpheus, by the relation of the Poets, recover'd his Euridice out of Hell by it. Timotheus made Alexander leave his feast and betake him∣self to his Arms; but changing his tune, return'd him again to the Table. Orators made use of it to regulate their gestures and voices; and at this day not only the harmonious sound of

Organs serves to enflame our zeal, but that of Bells is success∣fully employ'd to drive away the Daemons of the air when they raise tempests in it.

CONFERENCE LVIII.

I. Of the Sight. II. Of Painting.

I. Of the Sight.

AN ignorant Philosopher was he, who pull'd out his eyes that he might the better Philosophize; since, on the con∣trary, 'tis by the sight that we have cognition of all the goodly objects of the world, the ornament and agreeable variety of which seem purposely made to gratifie this Sense; whose excel∣lence and priviledge appears in that 'tis free from the condition requisite to all the other Senses, viz. that their objects be at a moderate distance; for it discerns as far as the Stars of the Fir∣mament, knows more things then they (there being nothing but has some light and colour, which are its objects) and that most exactly, distinguishing even their least differences; yea it hath this of divinity, that it acteth in an instant, being no more confin'd to time then place, and much more certain then any of the other Senses. And as if it alone were left in the free en∣joyment of its own rights, there's none besides it that hath the power to exercise or not exercise its function, as it lists; the muscles of the eye-lids serving to open or close the curtain when it pleaseth, whereas all the rest are constrain'd to do their offices when their objects are present. Moreover, man's noblest fa∣culty, the Understanding, is call'd the Eye of the Soul, because it performs the same, office to it that the Eye doth to the Body, which guides and governs. And therefore, in the dark, which hinders the use of this sense, the most daring are not without some fear which cannot proceed from the black colour, as some hold, but from our being destitute of our guide and conductor, which serves for a sentinel to us to discover such things as are hurtful; for in the same darkness we are pretty confident in case we be in the company of persons that can conduct us, and supply the use of our own eyes.

The Second said, Were it not for custom which renders all things common, there would be nothing so admir'd as the Eye, which, as small as it is, gives reception to all corporeal things of what magnitude soever; yea every one is represented there in its own natural proportion, though the species of an Ele∣phant be no bigger in mine Eye then that of a Flye; and never∣theless the Senses judge of their objects by the species streaming from them. And the convex fabrick of the eye representing a mirror, seems to argue that we do not behold objects in their

true magnitude, but very much smaller then they are. For we see things so as they are receiv'd in the eye. But they are receiv'd there as the visible species are in Looking-glasses, which if plain represent the same in their true magnitude; if spherical, as the eye is, render them much smaller. And never∣theless we see things in their just proportion. Whence 'tis to be concluded that our Sight which is the most certain of all the Senses is in a perpetuall, yea a general errour, which conse∣quently is no longer an errour, since to erre is to deviate from rule, which is a general law. Moreover, this too is wonderful in the Sight; that all the other Organs make several reports to the Senses; one accounts that hot which another judges cold or tepid; one taste seems fresh to one which another thinks too salt; they are of one opinion in odours and sounds, and these are of another; though their Organs be rightly dispos'd. But that which appears black to one seems so likewise to every bo∣dy else. And if the Sight happen to be deceiv'd, as when we judge the Moon greater in the Horizon by reason of the vapours of the earth then when she is in the Meridian; or when a straight stick seems crooked in the water; the same eye which is de∣ceiv'd finds its own errour by comparison of other objects. Hence ariseth the doctrine of the Parallaxes, and the rules of Opticks, Catoptricks, and Dioptricks, which are practis'd by the sight. So that as he doth not perfectly delire who knows that he is in a delirium, so the sense cannot be said altoge∣ther faculty when it discerns its fault. Which the other senses do not.

The Third said, The excellence of the Sight will be better understood by considering its contrary, Blindness, and the mi∣sery of the Blind; their life being an image of death, whilst they pass it in perpetual darkness. Therefore the Civilians ex∣clude them from publick Offices; because, say they, they can∣not perceive, nor consequently esteem the badges, and ensigns of their Magistracy. Moreover, the Egyptians thought no∣thing fitter to represent their Deity then the figure of the Eye, which the Stoicks call a god, others a divine member, and the Luminary of the little World; Theophrastus, Beauty, because it resides principally in the Eyes, the most charming part of a hand∣some face. Their colour, twinkling, fixedness, and other dis∣positions serve the Physiognomists for certain indications of the inclinations of the soul, which all antiquity believ'd to have its seat in the eyes; in which you read pride, humility, anger, mildness, joy, sadness, love, hatred, and the other humane af∣fections. And as the inclinations and actions of men are more various then those of other creatures, so their eyes alone are variously colour'd; whereas the eyes of all beasts of the same species are alike. Yea the eyes are no less eloquent then the tongue, since they express our conceptions by a dumb but very emphatical language; and a twinkle of the eye many times

moves more to obedience then speech. Plato being unable to conceive the admirable effects of the Sight without somewhat of divinity, believ'd there was a celestial light in the eye, which issuing forth to receive the outward light, brought the same to the soul to be judg'd of; which nevertheless we perceive not in the dark, because then the internal streaming forth into the ob∣scure air, which is unlike to it self, is alter'd and corrupted by it. Indeed, if it be true that there is a natural implanted sound in the ear, why may there not be a natural light in the eye? con∣sidering too that the Organs ought to have a similitude and agreement with their objects. And hence it is that the eyes sometimes flash like lightning in the night, as Cardan saith his did; and Suetonious relates the same of Tiberius; and that those that are in a Phrensy imagine that they see lightning. For it seems to me more rational to refer this Phaenomenon to the lu∣cid and igneous spirits of the sight, which being unable to pene∣trate the crystalline or vitreous humour by reason of some gross vapours, reflect back into the eye, and make those flashes; then to the smoothness of the eye, or to attrition of the spirits, or, as Galen holds, to an exhalation caus'd by the blood which is carri'd to the head; though this latter may sometimes be a joynt cause.

The Third said, The Eye is compos'd of six Muscles, as ma∣ny Tunicles, three Humours, two pair of Nerves, and abun∣dance of small Veins and Arteries: its object is every thing that is visible, as colour, light and splendor; light, in the Ce∣lestial Bodies, wherein the object and the medium are the same thing, since the light of the Sun is seen by it self; colour, in in∣feriour bodies, where the object and the medium are two, for colour cannot be seen without light; splendor, in the scales of Fishes, rotten wood, the eyes of some animals, Gloe-worms and the like; for it is different from their natural colour. Its Organ is the Eye, so regarded by Nature that she hath fortifi'd it on all sides for its safety, with the bone of the Forehead, the Eye-brows, the Eye-lids, the hair thereof, the Nose, the rising of the Cheeks, and the Hands to ward off outward injuries; and if Galen may be believ'd, the Brain it self (the noblest part of the body) was made only for the eyes; whence Anaxagoras conceiv'd that men were created only to see or contemplate. The Eyes are dearer to us then any other part; because, saith Aristotle, they are the instruments of most exact knowledge, and so serve not only for the body but the soul, whose food is the knowledge which the eye supplies, call'd for this reason the Sense of Invention, as the Ear is that of discipline. 'Tis of an aqueous nature, because it was requisite that it should be dia∣phanous, to receive the visible species and light; for if it had been of a terrestrial matter, it would have been opake and dark; if aerious, or igneous, it could not have long retain'd the species; air and fire being thin diaphanous bodies which re∣ceive

well but retain not; for though the air be full of the spe∣cies of objects which move through it from all parts, yet they are not visible in it by reason of its rarity. It was fit therefore that the Eye should be of a pellucid and dense substance, that it might both receive and retain the visible species; which kind of substance is proper to water, as appears by the images which it represents. Moreover, the Eye being neer, and conjoyn'd to the Brain by the Nerves of the first and second conjugation, and to the membranes thereof by its Tunicles, could not be of an igneous nature perfectly contrary to that of the Brain, as Plato held it to be because of its agility, lucidity and orbicular figure, like that of fire (as he said) and because the Eye is never tense or stiff as all the other parts; all which he conceiv'd could not be but from fire. For the Eyes agility or nimbleness of mo∣tion is from its Muscles and its lubricity; its brightness, from the external light; its round figure rather denotes water, whose least particles are so, then fire whose figure is pyramidal. 'Tis never stiff, because of the fat wherewith it is stuff'd, and because it is destitute of flesh.

II. Of Painting.

Upon the second Point, it was said, That Painting is a sort of writing, by which many times that is express'd which cannot be spoken; witness the story of Progne and Philomel: and as the latter represents things by letters, so doth the former by their natural figure; so perfectly that it is understood by the most ignorant; because it exhibits, in their proper colour, big∣ness, proportion, and other natural accidents: whereas Wri∣ting makes use of characters and figures which have no affinity with the things denoted by them, but only signifie the same by the institution of men, who therefore differ in Writing, but all agree in painting: Both the one and the other (like all Arts whose scope is imitation, as Oratory, Statuary, Sculpture, Architecture, and many others) depend upon the strength of the Imagination; and that Painter succeeds bests who hath in his mind the most perfect idea of his work. And because a Pain∣ter is to imitate every thing, 'tis requir'd to his being a Master that he be ignorant of nothing; particularly he must know both the natural and artificial proportions and agreements of things with their several modes and uses. And where there are three ways of representing; the first in surfaces, by flat painting; the other in bodies themselves, which belongs to Statuary and the Plastick Art; the third between both, as Graving and Carving: Painting is the most difficult, and (consequently) the most noble. For it must so deceive the sight, as to make cavities, folds, and bosses appear in a flat surface by the help of shadows; which al∣though a meer nothing, because but a privation of light, yet they gave all the gracefulness and value to Pictures. For the way of painting without shadows us'd in China being nothing but a simple delineation without hatchment, as it is very excel∣lent

so 'tis exceeding rare; and being not us'd amongst us can∣not come into comparison with the rest. Whereas Sculpture and Statuary consisting only in paring away the overplus of mat∣ter, or, if the matter be fusible, in casting it into a mould, made from the original (as the moulds of Plaster are from the faces of persons newly deceas'd) need less industry.

The Second said, Although Painting be sensible and visible▪ yet it belongs to very few persons to judge well of it; witness Alexander, who going to see Appelles, and offering to talk con∣cerning Painting, he spoke so ill that the Apprentices of that Ar∣tist could not forbear laughing. Indeed Painting is one of the noblest parts of the Mechanicks, and ought as well to be rank'd amongst the Mathematicks as Astronomy. For if the reason of the Celestial motions gave cause for accounting this Science amongst the Mathematicks, more justly may the reason of the motions and proportions of mans body, the object of Painting, more admirable and of which more certain and real knowledge may be had then of those remote bodies, deserves to be of that rank; considering that it makes use of the same Mathematical Rules. Proportions, whose Rules are so infallible that seven excellent Statuaries very distant one from the other, being em∣ploy'd to make a brazen Colossus, perform'd their tasks by the precepts of their Art; and the parts which each of them made severally being put together represented a well proportion'd man. According to which proportion a mans body must be eight lengths of his head; from the less corner of the eye to the tip of the Ear is to be twice the length of the Eye; the Feet and Hands stretch'd forth, equally distant from the Navil; and such other remarks.

The Third said, The reason of the measures and proportions observ'd in Painting consists principally in four points, viz. in the form and figure of the thing represented, which is taken from the visual rays; in the shadow, which is to be taken from the rays of light; in colour, which is to imitate the natural; and in the handsome posture or situation of the thing painted. For Painting is the imitation of the affections of bodies, with reference to the light, made upon a solid Plane. Hence a face is otherwise represented under the water then bare, distant then neer, in the Sun-shine then in the shadow, by Candle-light, or Moon-light. And though the Painter represents also the dis∣positions of the soul, as anger or sadness, yet he doth it always by the features and qualities of the body.

The Fourth said, They who blame Painting and Statuary, because they represent unfitting objects, and gave occasion to the Idolatry of antiquity, may as justly blame beauty because 'tis sometimes the occasion of sinning. Painting hath this preemi∣nence above all Arts, that it imitates God more perfectly then they; for God was the first Painter when he made man, the goodliest piece of the world, after his own image and likeness;

and all the bless'd spirits are but contracted copies of so perfect an original. 'Tis that which frees the body from the tombe, and, like a second table after shipwrack, preserves the memory of virtuous men, renders present those who are absent, and makes almost as strong impressions upon our Soul as the thing it self; witnesse the friendships of the greatest personages of the world contracted by its means. And as if the desire of pour∣traying it self were natural to all things, there is no body but incessantly produces its own image; which flies and wanders in the Air, till it meet with some solid and smooth body whereon to represent it self; as we see in Looking-glasses, and polish'd marble, where the images are much more exact then those which Art draws with a pencil, yea, then their own originals, of whose corporeal matter they are wholly divested. And (as the be∣ginning of all Arts are rude) this of Painting is attributed to the Daughter of Belus, who observing her Fathers shadow upon a wall, delineated it with a coal. For Pourtraiture, invented by Philocles the Aegyptian, is ancienter then Painting, invented ei∣ther by Gyges the Lydian in Aegypt, according to Pliny; or by Pyrhus, Cousin to Daedalus, according to Aristotle.

The Fifth said, That in Painting, as in other disciplines, Ig∣norance of the principles is the cause that so few succeed well in it. These principles are the methodical proportion of Mans Body, Perspective, the reason of shadows, Natural Colours, De∣signing, and History, all which must be found in a good Piece; and the defect of some of them (as it frequently happens) causes us to wonder, (though we know not the reason) that there is commonly something in all draughts that does not satisfie our Minds. For oftentimes when all the rest is good, Perspective hath not been well observ'd, or the Design is nought, or the History ill follow'd. But as things are the more to be esteem'd which are the most simple, so there is more of wonder in Painting to the life with a coal, (as Appelles did before Ptolomy, to denote a person to him whom he could not name) then with colours, the least part of Painting, which consists properly onely in propor∣tion; and this being the most divine action of Understanding, 'tis no wonder if there be so few good Painters. For they are mistaken who place the excellence of painting in the smallness of the strokes; because they fancy that Appelles was discover'd to Protogenes by having made a smaller line then he. For, on the contrary, the most excellent strokes of Masters are many times the grossest; and that this proportion may be exact, it must imitate not onely particular subjects, but generally the species of every thing. Which Michel Caravague neglecting to do about 90. years since, and instead of following Albert Durer's excellent Rules, addicting himself to draw onely after the life, hath lead the way to all his successors, who care not for his Rules, but give themselves onely to imitation; and this is the cause of the defects of painting at this day.

CONFERENCE LIX.

I. Of Light. II. Of Age.

I. Of Light.

I Conceive (with a learned Physitian of the most worthy Chancellor that France ever had, in his Treatise of this sub∣ject) that Light is of two sorts; one radical and essential, which is found perfectly in the Stars, the fire, and some other subjects, but imperfectly in colour'd bodies, because Colour is a species of Light; The other secondary and derivative, which is found in bodies illuminated by the Light. Both are made in Transparent Bodies; those of the Stars, in the Heaven, and that of flame and bodies ignited in the fire; whiteness, in the Air; and blackness, in the Water. But these transparent bodies must be condens'd, that those Lights and Colours may appear; and therefore the principle of Light is in transparence alone, whereof neither pu∣rity, rarity, tenuity, nor equality of surfaces, are the causes; but they all proceed from the quantity of matter; some bodies ha∣ving more matter then others, not by rarity alone, or local ex∣tension, but by formal extension, or internal quantity; and con∣sequently, that a little matter under a great internal quantity, is the principle cause of tenuity, rarity, and transparence, to which the evenness of surfaces is also requisite in gross bodies. So that Light consists in a proportion between the quantity and the matter of its subject; and Light is great when the matter is little under a great quantity, as in the Heavens; on the contrary, the body is dark, when a very small quantity is joyn'd to a great deal of matter; as is seen in the Earth. To prove this, you must observe that all simple bodies are luminous, excepting the Earth, which is opake; and we find Light in sundry anima∣ted bodies, as in the Eyes of Cats, and of those Indian Snailes which shine like torches, and in our Gloe-wormes, whose Light proceeds from their Spirits; which being of a middle nature be∣tween the Body and the Soul, are the least material thing in the world. Whence it follows that Light is a form with the most of essence amongst sensible formes, as obscurity hath the least.

The Second said, The wonder of Marsilius Ficinus was with reason, how 'twas possible that nothing should be so obscure as Light. For if Transparence be the subject of it, why doth Crystal heated red hot in the fire come forth more luminous, and less transparent then it was? The same may be said of Ra∣rity; for we see that Air and Aqua Vitae are well rarify'd by the fire which inflames them, but cease to be transparent as soon as they are made more rare and luminous; which is an evident sign that rarity and transparence are not causes, nor yet conditi∣ons of Light. So the whole remainder of Heaven is lucid; but

onely the less rare parts, and such as you might call vapours in respect of the pure Air. And the light which proceeds from the Sun, the most luminous of all those celestial bodies, would never be visible, but be depriv'd of all its effects which are heating and enlightning, if it were not reflected by some solid body. Then it not onely appears, but exerts its activity. And if things be produc'd by the same causes which preserve and multiply them, the solidity of burning mirrors made of Steel, the hardest of all metals, which make the Sun-beams do more then their own nature empowers them to, shews sufficiently that their Light cannot arise from a rare and diaphanous cause. Nor may the Light of rotten wood be assign'd to its rarity alone, since many other bodies of greater rarity shine not at all; nor that of Gloe-worms and Cats Eyes to their spirits, since the flesh of some animals shines after their death; as 'tis affirm'd of Oxen, that have frequently eaten a sort of Moon-wort; and not onely the scales of divers fishes shine after separation from their bodies, but sparkles of fire issue from the hair of some persons in great droughts, whereunto the spirits contribute nothing. Which would perswade me to believe, that Light is a Form, to the in∣troduction whereof several conditions are requisite, according to the diversity of subjects; just as we see the Souls of some irrati∣onal creatures need great dispositions for their reception, a Brain, a Heart, and a Liver, with their dependances; whereas others, as Insects, require lesse, and are contented with something that may supply this defect; some are generated in an instant, without any apparent preparation, as Frogs in a summer showre; and therefore to assign the cause of Light, is to seek the reason of Formes, which is unknown to us. Which similitude the vulgar speech confirmes; for the people say, The Candle is dead when it is extinguish'd, presupposing that it had life before; as an Animal hath so long as its form is conjoyn'd with its body. Moreover, Fire hath a Locall Motion (as Animals have) to ob∣tain its food.

The Third said, Light is a substance; for it was created by God; but 'tis a Sixth Essence, more subtile then that of Heaven, which is call'd a Quintessence in respect of the Four Elements. A substance which subsisted before the Sun, having been created three dayes before it; and nothing hinders but it may be com∣municated in a moment from Heaven to Earth, since the inten∣tional species of visible things is so. Indeed, whereunto shall we attribute the effect of Light, which heats at distance, and blinds being too great, which colours and gives ornament to the Uni∣verse, if it be not a substance? And the Penetration of Dimen∣sion, objected hereunto, is salv'd by saying that it hath no more place here, then when an Iron is red hot with the Fire, which yet none will affirm to be an accident; and neverthelesse it enters into the whole substance of the Iron, and Light with it; for 'tis transparent and luminous at its centre when 'tis throughly heated in the Fire.

The Fourth said, The excellence of Light appears, in that nothing hath greater resemblance with the Deity. Which made some Heathen Philosophers say, that Light is Gods Body, and Truth his Soul. Moreover, the Scripture teaches us, that God dwells in inaccessible Light. And the blessed Spirits are stil'd Angels of Light, as Daemons Spirits of darknesse. Light enlivens and animates all things, it rejoyces all Creatures by its presence; Birds begin to sing, and even flowers to display their beauties at its arrival. And because Nothing gives what it hath not, there∣fore some have conceiv'd, that Light, the enlivener of all the world, is it self indu'd with life, and that 'tis the Universal Spi∣rit, and the Soul of the whole world. Whence Plato, in his timaeus, brings no other argument to prove that Fire is an Animal, but that it is luminous. And, in the sixth Book of his Common∣wealth, he makes the Sun (who is the known Father of all li∣ving things) the son of Light; without which Pythagoras for∣bad to do any thing. Moreover, it hath no contrary; Darkness being oppos'd to it onely privatively. For its being is so excellent that Nature found not her self so able to make any thing that might be equall'd with it, that might alter and corrupt it, as the nature of Contraries require; whereas all Qualities have each their particular enemy. And 'tis upon this very reason that Light acts in an instant; because having no contrary quality to expel from its subject, it needs no time or successive motion, which is necessary to other qualities, as to heat, to warm cold water.

The Fifth said, Light is a real form produc'd in the medium by a luminous body; Aristotle calls it the act of the Perspicuum as it is Perspicuum. This Form is accidental, and falls under the head of Patible Qualities, because 'tis sensible by it self, which is the property of accidents alone; (whereas substance is not sen∣sible, (that is, falls not under the perception of sense) but by means of accidents;) and as it is the principle of action, which be∣longs onely to a Quality. For it cannot be a corporeal substance, and Democritus and Epicurus conceiv'd, saying, that Light is an Emanation of particles, or little bodies from a lucid body; or as they who make it a species of fire, which they divide into That which burnes and shines; That which burns and shines not, and That which shines but burns not, which is this Light. For no natural body is mov'd in an instant, nor in all sorts of places, as Light is; but they have all a certain difference of po∣sition or tendency, some towards the centre, others towards the circumference, and others circularly.

The Sixth said, 'Tis true, Light is not of the nature of our sublunary bodies, for it is not generated and corrupted as they are. It is not generated, since generation is effected by corrup∣tion of one form, and introduction of another. But we have instances of incorruptible Light even here below; as that in the Temple of Venus, which could not be extinguish'd nor con∣sum'd, though neither oyle nor wick were put to it; and

that other found in a Sepulchre where it had burn'd for fifteen hundred years, but as soon as it took Air went out. And indeed the subtilety and activity of Fire is such, that it may be reasona∣bly conceiv'd to attract the sulphurous vapours for its subsist∣ence, which are in all parts of the Air, but especially in Mines, whose various qualities produce the diversity of subterraneal fires, as to their lasting continuance, and interval; which some compare to the intermitting fevers excited in our bodies by a praeternatural heat.

II. Of Age.

Of the Second Point it was said, That Age is the measure of the Natural Changes whereunto Man is subject by the princi∣ples of his being, which are various according to every ones par∣ticular constitution; some being puberes, having a beard, or grey haires, or such other tokens, sooner then others, according to the diversity of their first conformation: Whence ariseth that of their division. Aristotle, following Hippocrates, divides them into Youth, Middle Age, and Old Age; or according to Galen, into In∣fancy or Child-hood, vigour, or Man-hood, or old age; or accord∣ing to most, they are divided into Adolescence, Youth, the Age of Consistence, and Old Age. Adolescence comprehends Infancy, which reacheth to the seventh year; Puerility, which reacheth to the fourteenth year; Puberty, which reacheth to the eighteenth; and that which is call'd by the general name, Ado∣lescence, reaching to the five and twentieth; Youth, which is the flower of Age, is reckon'd from twenty five to thirty three years of age; Virile, and Consistent Age, from thirty five to forty eight, where Old Age begins, which is either green, middle, or decrepit. These Four Ages are the Four Wheeles of our Life, whose mutations they denote; the First, being nearest the original, hot and moist, symbolizing with the blood; the Second, hot and dry, with Choler; the Third, cold and dry, with melan∣choly; the Fourth, cold and moist, with Phlegme, which being contrary to the radical humidity leads to death. Now if it be true (that they say) that life is a punishment, and an Abridgement of miseries, Old Age, as being nearest the haven and the end of infelicities, is the most desirable. Moreover, being the most perfect by its experiences, and alone capable to judge of the good∣nesse of Ages, 'tis fit we refer our selves to the goodnesse of its judgement, as well in this point as in all others.

The Second said, Since to live is to act, the most perfect and delightful of all the Ages of life is that in which the functi∣ons of body and mind (whereof we consist) are best exercis'd; as they are in Youth (which alone seems to dispute preheminence with Old Age) not onely by reason of the bodily health and vigor which it possesses in perfection, and which supplies Spi∣rits and Courage for brave deeds, whereof that declining Age (which is it self a necessary and incurable malady) is incapable; but also in regard of the actions of the mind which is far more

lively, inventive, and industrious in young persons then in old, whose wit wears out, grows worse with the body; whence came that so true Proverb, That old men are twice children. For 'tis a disparagement to the original of wisdom, to deduce it from infirmity, to name that ripe which is rotten, and to believe that good counsels can come only from the defect of natural heat, since according to his judgement who hath best described wis∣dom, old age causes as many wrinkles in the mind as in the face; and we see no souls but as they grow old smell sowre and musty, and acquire abundance of vices and evil habits, of which Co∣vetousness alone inseparable from old age (which shews its weakness of judgement, to scrape together with infinite travel what must shortly be forsaken) is not less hurtful to the State then all the irregularities of youth. Now if the supream good be in the Sciences, then the young men must infallibly carry the cause; since sharpness of wit, strength of phancy, and goodness of memory, (of which old men are wholly destitute) and ability to undergo the tediousness of Lucubration, are requisite to their acquisition. If it consists in a secret complacency which we receive from the exercise of vertuous actions, then young men, who, according to Chancellor Bacon, excel in morality, will carry it from old men; it being certain that the best actions of life are perform'd between twenty and thirty years of age, or thereabouts, which was the age at which Adam was created in Paradise; as our Lord accomplish'd the mystery of our Re∣demption at the age of 33 years, which shall also be the age at which the blessed shall rise up to glory, when every one shall en∣joy a perfect youth (such as given to the Angels) and put off old age, which being not much different from death, may (as well as that) be call'd the wages of sin; since if our first Parent had persisted in the state of Innocence, we should have possess'd the glory of perpetual undeclining Youth. Moreover, 'tis at this Age that the greatest personages have manifested themselves; we have seen but few old Conquerors, and if there be any, he hath this of Alexander, that he aspires to the conquest of ano∣ther world, not having long to live in this. Wherefore in stead of pretending any advantage over the other ages, old men should rather be contented that people do not use them as those of Cea and the Massagetes, who knock'd them on the head, or the ancient Romans who cast them head-long from a Bridge into Ti∣ber, accounting it an act of piety to deliver them from life, whose length was displeasing to the Patriarchs; the Scripture saying, that they dy'd full of days.

The Third said, That the innocence of Infants should make us desire their age; considering that our Lord requires that we be like them, if we would enter into his Kingdom; and the Word of God speaks to us as we do to children. Moreover, since Nature could not perpetuate infancy, she hath found no sweeter Anodyne to the miseries and sadnesses of old people

then the sight of children, (whom they extreamly love) and then the memory of things done or learn'd in their non-age; which the less distant it is from its source, the Deity, the more it partakes thereof.

The Fourth said, Youth hath too many extravagancies, to be accounted happy; nor can Child-hood and Old-age deserve that title, since 'twould be contrary to the order of nature if the extreams contain'd more perfection then that which is in the middle, where she hath establish'd the vertue of all things. For as for Child-hood, its weakness sufficiently shews that it hath not wherewith to content it self, since it needs the help of others, and is an object of pity, a passion that never arises but from mi∣sery. There's no commendation in its innocence, which de∣pends upon impotence, and the imperfection of the souls opera∣tions; and they as much want the will and power to do well as the intention and means to do ill. But true Innocence consists in the action of difficult good. If Infancy hath no apprehension of the future, it receives the present evil with much more pain, and shews it self as sensible to the least displeasures, as incapable of consolation and prudence to avoid them; if it wants fear (though indeed every thing terrifies it) the hope of good to come never anticipates and prolongs its enjoyment. In a word, he cannot be happy who hath not the knowledge of his happi∣ness, which Children cannot have while they want the use of Reason, which is peculiar to Man. Old-age, which is a se∣cond Childhood (and the more to be dislik'd in that it always grows worse) partakes all the defects of the first age, and hath this besides, that the desires awakened by the remembrance of pass'd conrentments are constantly jarring with his impo∣tence; and the ardency of getting and possessing hath a perpe∣tual contract with the necessity of forsaking and losing; pains and aches, the forerunners of death, daily attempt his patience, and there's no hope of other cure but the extremity of all evils, not-being. Infancy therefore is like the Spring, which hath only flowers, and expects the fruits afterwards; 'tis an age of hope, without enjoyment; Youth hath only Summer fruits, of little lasting; Old-age is a Winter, without either flowers, or fruits, hath nothing but present evils in possession, is to fear all, and to lose all. But Virility or Manhood holds the middle be∣tween them both, and resembles Autumn, denoted by the horn of Plenty, possesses the happiness of life, enjoys the pre∣sent goods, and by hope anticipates those to come; the soul in this age commonly corresponds with the body; its faculties make an agreeable symphonie with the actions hereof, and the sweet union of a reciprocal complacency. On the contrary, in childhood the soul seems not yet well tun'd to the body; in adolescence it always jars with the appetites of the Senses; and in old age it altogether disagrees with it self, and by a sudden de∣parture endeavours to have its part separately.

CONFERENCE LX.

I. Of Quintessence. II. Which is the most in esteem, Knowledge or Vertue.

I. Of Quintes∣sence.

THe mind of man, as it is the purer part of him, so it is al∣ways pleas'd with that which is most pure. In conversa∣tion it loves the most refin'd, and prefers simplicity, which is most pure, above the windings and double-dealings of decei∣vers. Amongst Metals it prefers Gold and Silver, which are the purest, above Lead, Iron, and other imperfect and course Minerals. In food, Physick and the stomack of the diseased chuse that which is most freed from its gross and unprofitable parts. Among sounds, the most subtile are the most charming. Among artificial things, we find more sprightliness in the grace∣fulness of small works then in others. In the Sciences, the more subtile a reason is, the more 'tis applauded. But being health is the greatest, yea the only true good, being the foundation of all the rest; and sickness the greatest, yea the only real evil of our life; therefore our minds have herein most sought after sub∣tilety, especially to subtilize aliments and medicaments; not but that there may be a quintessence as well drawn from other things, but it would not be so useful. Now 'tis to be observ'd that this word is taken either generally for any body depurated from its more course matter, as Spirits, Waters, and Oyls; ex∣cluding Magisteries which retain the intire substance of the bo∣dies from whence they are taken, only render'd more active by its subtilization: or else it is taken properly; and in this accepti∣on Quintessence is some thing different from all this, and is compar'd to the soul which informs the body.

The Second said, That in every compound body there is a mixture of substance, besides that of qualities; whence arise the occult properties and forms of things, which is their fifth Essence: 'tis no Body, for it takes not up place; nor yet a Spi∣rit, since 'tis found also in inanimate bodies; but some thing of a middle nature between both, and neither one nor the other. Of which kind we want not examples in Nature; Shadow, the Image in a Glass, yea all intentional species, are neither body nor spirit. Now that it takes not up place, may be prov'd; be∣cause a bottle of Wine expos'd unstop'd to the air, is not dimi∣nish'd in its quantity, yet lofes its taste, smell, and other quali∣ties; by which change it becomes another thing from what it was before; an evidence that it hath lost its form, which is nothing else but the Quintessence we speak of; and should ano∣ther body receive the same it would have the qualities the Wine lost, which after separation of them is no more Wine then the

carcase of a man is a man after his soul is departed. Moreover, that which nourishes in food is not a body, but the form or quintessence of it; since by the observation of the most Inqui∣sitive, 'tis found that the excrements of all the concoctions equal the aliments both in weight and quantity, as the Urine of Drunkards is commonly as much as the Wine they have drunk, and Mineral waters are voided in the same quantity that they were taken. This fifth Essence is found every where, in the Elements and in compound bodies. In those 'tis the purest of the Element impregnated with the Universal Spirit; in these 'tis likewise the purest part of the compound animated by the same Spirit.

The Third said, There is no other Quintessence but the Hea∣ven in comparison of the Elements; in the mixtion whereof, the Heaven concurs as an universal Agent, whose influence (which is the soul of the World) determining the matter in∣forms and renders it active; thus the Stars produce Metals even in the centre of the Earth. Hence the world Heaven is taken by Chymists for Quintessence, because of the simplicity and acti∣vity common both to the one and the other. But, because it cannot fall under the cognisance of our Senses, in regard of its aethereal nature, the most searching Naturalists give its name to the most subtile extracts, especially such as are made by fire; al∣though the same be not eternal, as Quintessence ought to be, but only of long duration.

The Fourth said, 'Tis the humour of unsetled heads, instead of cultivating the precepts of antiquity, to go about to fabri∣cate new; and hence comes the contemplation and the extracti∣on of Quintessences. For (besides that 'tis not certain that what is drawn out of a Plant was there before; it being pro∣bable that the action of the fire may have introduc'd it in part, or in whole, into the compositum) this Quintessence hath not the conditions requisite to merit that name, because it has both first and second qualities; and consequently is not only corporeal, but also corruptible. And if it were incorruptible, it would be wholly unprofitable, yea hurtful to mans body, since it could not be chang'd or alter'd by it, and none but poysons are such. For Medicaments and aliments are alter'd by our nature. But however, the Empyrema or Adustion which these Quintes∣sences commonly acquire in the fire renders their activity too great and disproportionate to our temper: Which is the cause that things already excessive in quality, as Salt and Vitriol▪ are very hurtful being made into Quintessences; because there is no more proportion between them and us. And therefore I am of the judgement of the Vulgar, who never speak of those drawers of Quintessences but with contempt, considering that they make profession of a thing which is not; and which if there were any such, would be either unprofitable or hurtful.

The Fifth said, That the Chymical Quintessence is an aethe∣real, celestial, and most subtile substance, compos'd of the Salt, Sulphur and Mercury of bodies dissolv'd, spoil'd of all their ele∣mentary qualities, corruptible and mortal, united to a spiritu∣al body, or corporeal spirit, which is the medium and bond uni∣ting bodies and spirits in nature; and call'd by some, for its rari∣ty, Elixir; for its wonderful use in preserving the health of mans body, the Sovereign Medicine by which they hold that youth may be restor'd, and all sorts of diseases cur'd; it not being re∣quisite in its action that it be alter'd by our natural heat, which, on the contrary, it changes and perfectionates, taking the part of nature, as all poysons destroy it. And 'tis certain that since there are bodies which are barely alter'd by our nature, as ali∣ments; others, which are alter'd by it, but reciprocally alter it, as medicaments; others which destroy it without being al∣ter'd by it; so there is a fourth sort which preserves it without being alter'd by it, which is the Quintessence, thoroughly se∣parated from the four Elements, yea from every thing that enters into the composition; as is seen in Treacle, whose vertue pro∣ceeds from some body which is not any of all the ingredients, but results from them all together after convenient fermentati∣on. And, possibly, they who blame this curious inquisition do it to decline the pains, or because they understand it not; as 'tis said the Fox that wanted a tail counsell'd all his fellows to cut off theirs.

The Sixth said, Being all the Chymical Principles are re∣solv'd into our four Elements, their Quintessence which is com∣pounded thereof will be nothing else but these Elements more pure and refin'd, and consequently no more a Quintessence then all mixts are in respect of the Elements whereof they con∣sist. For a Quintessence must be a simple body, not any of the four Elements, much less compounded of them; and Heaven alone is such; whatever certain Philosophers have said, some holding it to be onely a continuation of the air; others, that 'tis of an igneous nature, because its denser parts ap∣pear such, and its name Aether signifies Fire; some, that 'tis a fluid and aqueous substance; others, on the contrary, a pure and solid earth. For Heaven hath a simple, to wit, a cir∣cular motion, which, as the most perfect of all, ought to belong to the most noble of all bodies; and this circular motion be∣longs not to any of the Elements, since each of them moves in a direct line; two from the Centre, and two others towards the Centre. But a simple body cannot have two motions: it fol∣lows therefore that Heaven hath a motion different from that of the four Elements; since motion, particularly local, the first and commonest of all is an effect of the nature of every thing which is the principle of motion. Moreover, Heaven alone is exempt from all elementary and corporeal qualities. 'Tis nei∣ther heavy nor light, because it neither moves towards the

Centre nor the circumference, but about the Centre. 'Tis nei∣ther generated nor corrupted, because it hath no contrary. And for this reason it hath neither augmentation nor diminuti∣on, inasmuch as these are species of generation and corruption. 'Tis not any way alter'd, since alteration is caus'd by the action of some contrary. Lastly, it cannot enter into any compositi∣on; and, consequently, there is indeed a Quintessence, but 'tis not in sublunary bodies.

II. Which is most in esteem Knowledge or Vertue.

Upon the second Point, it was said, That 'tis first requisite to remove the equivocation of those who comprehend Knowledge under Vertue; since by the word Vertuous we understand, here, not a Virtuoso, but a good man; who though he deserves to be more, yet is always less esteem'd then a knowing or learned man: because every one esteems that most which hath most shew and price. Now a vertuous man is not only destitute of this, but his greatest vertue consists in not seeking vain-glory; where∣of the greatest part of manking being adorers, and every one affecting such as resemble themselves, therefore the learned is commonly esteem'd above the other. Moreover, the reason∣ing of man being wholly deprav'd since the Fall, he is rather for Verisimilitude then Verity. Now the learned easily per∣swades that he is more to be esteem'd then the vertuous, who doth good because it is good, and not to be esteem'd for it; whereas the other is like those bad Officers who make amends for their ill deeds by fair writing. So Demosthenes having run with the first from the Battel, made such an excellent Oration, that he was commended for that which deserv'd perpetual shame. But that which makes vertue less priz'd, is, because it falls upon all sorts of conditions and sexes; a poor man and a poor woman exercising not less vertue in supporting their misery with constancy, then a great Captain in overcoming his enemy: and learning being not so common, especially that which is sub∣lime, 'tis the more esteem'd for its rarity. They who judge of the worth of mens actions account of them according to the pains that there is in performing them. But 'tis judg'd more painful to become learned then to live well. Others say, 'Tis best to be vertuous for the other world, and knowing for this; good Nature, which is no way suspicious, being ordinari∣ly subject to the deceits of the more crafty. But I conceive, that 'tis best to be vertuous both for this world and the other too. For if you be in prosperity it serves to set off and illustrate your Vertues; if in adversity (which nevertheless may be declin'd by the prudence whereof the vertuous is not destitute) Fortieude and Temperance make it judg'd less; and Justice makes us re∣flect upon others who are in a worse estate. And as for the other world, vertuous actions merit grace, which is the seed of eternal glory, a reward to which knowledge alone cannot inti∣tle us; for Solomon calls it a vain travel given to men, whilst

the poor of spirit are called happy. What then ought we to know? To be vertuous, to the end that the Sciences may be subservient to the Vertues their Mistresses.

The Second said, Science is so much inferior to Vertue as the Means are to their end, since all Sciences are only in order to acquire Vertue, without which they are but troublesome talk, and dead notions; and since such knowledge as edifies not the Conscience is but vain, Divinity, the prime of all Sciences, proposes Piety to it self; Physick, Charity; the Law, Justice. Yea they all seem to have no other aim but to render homage to Vertue, and cherish it with praise, its only aliment: the ordi∣nary employment of learned persons being to extol the vertu∣ous. If few persons embrace Vertue, 'tis because they know it not; for 'tis one of those things, a sight whereof is sufficient to make it lov'd; and were it not veil'd, or cover'd with rags, but appear'd wholly naked, its charms would attract all the world. Hence we so admire and honour the few that are vertuous, who have in all times been extoll'd above other men. Moreover, Divines hold that every sinner is ignorant; and that a man can∣not prefer Vice before Vertue without being blind of Under∣standing.

The Third said, 'Tis true, if we judge of the excellence of Vertue and Knowledge by their necessity, Vertue will carry it; because 'tis much more necessary, yea alone absolutely so to a State, which rather resembles a Cavern of robbers or wild beasts when Vertue is banish'd; whereas whole States and Kingdoms very easily and many times profitably dispense with the Sciences. And the gross ignorance of the Ancients did not hinder, but that they left flourishing States. But because on one side the most excellent things are not always the most necessary, as appears by the Mechanical Arts, we must inquire the preeminence of Knowledge or Vertue upon another ground. They are both habits, whose excellence is taken from the subjects wherein they are; so the habit of speaking well is more excellent then that of Painting, and Painting then Dancing; because the Tongue is more noble then the Hand, and this then the Feet. Now Vertue is a habit of the Will; Knowlédge a habit of the Intel∣lect, which as much surpasses the Will as Contemplation do's Action. For whether we consider the actions and manner of acting of either of these Faculties, or their objects, the Will yields to the Understanding; which being the Eye of the Soul governs all the Faculties, guides the Will, of it self blind, and incapable of any action without the light of the Intellect. More∣over, compare the Intellectual Vertues with the Moral, and you will see what difference there is between Sapience, which is the knowledge of the highest things by their Causes; Intelligence, which is the intuitive knowledge of first Principles; in brief, Science, Prudence, and the Arts, on one part; and on the other, Temperance, Courage, Justice, and the other moral Vertues,

which ordinarily have no other employment but to keep the Concupiscible and Irascible appetites within bounds, though they can never bring it to pass without Reason. The Ob∣ject of the Understanding which is Entity, as such (because in this sence 'tis intelligible) is also more noble then that of the Will, namely, Entity, as good and desirable; because Entity, as such is first, more simple and more abstracted then Entity, as good; which is only a passion of Entity. And this Entity which the Understanding considers is not only material and sin∣gular, but spiritual, universal, and infinite. Yea it not onely knows that which is extrinsecal to it self, but by a special privi∣ledge it knows it self, and by an action wholly divine reflects upon it self and its own actions. And as if it were not content with its jurisdiction it knows not only that which is, but also that which is not, entities of Reason, and Possibilities.

The Fourth confirm'd the preceding Judgement, because all Moral Vertues depend on the Understanding in their production and conservation. For as we are lead to good because we know it such by the Understanding, so the Virtues become vicious when they are destitute of Prudence, which is a Vertue of the Understanding, who alone gives law and weight to all the other Vertues which it guides. But what makes most for Know∣ledge, 'tis pecular to Man, who alone of all Animals knows things by their proper causes; whereas Vertue is common to him with brutes, from whom he many times learns a lesson. But if you deny them the title of Virtue, at least they have the shadow and image of it; the Pismire, of diligence; the Serpent, of prudence; the Lion, of courage, and so of the rest; but not any of Science, which is the onely good and difference of Man; and once gotten is so inseparable from him, that it alone of all his good accompanies him into the other life, in which he is aban∣doned by all Moral Virtues, as being then unprofitable; because they are but the means to attain beatitude, which most Divines make to consist in the knowledge of God, who alone hath an in∣finite knowledge of all things, but hath nothing to do with Vir∣tue, which presupposes Vice to be subdu'd.

The Fifth said, That the promise of knowledge made to the first Man by the Devil, having triumph'd over all his Virtues, shews that Science is sometimes stronger then Virtue; but this having the promises of reward both in this and the other life; and Knowledge, on the contrary, being often blam'd of puffing up Mens Minds and call'd vain, determines the Question to the ad∣vantage of Virtue.

CONFERENCE LXI.

I. Which is hardest to endure, Hunger or Thirst. II. Whether a General of an Army should endanger his person.

I. Which is hardest to en∣dure, Hunger or Thirst.

THe natural heat of Man, which lasts as long as his life, is pre∣serv'd by reparation, and avoiding of suffocation; the former by food, and the latter by the Air which ventilates it, and refreshes its ardour. The greater this heat is, the more need it hath of fewel and refreshment. On the contrary, among Ani∣mals, those that have no blood, as most Insects, and those that have but little, as Fishes, who consequently have but little heat, (since we have as much heat as blood) have lesse need of ventilation, and therefore are destitute of Lungs, excepting Whales and Dolphins, as having more heat. Now as the Air repairs our spirituous parts; so Aliments, (to wit, meat and drink) restore our solid and liquid parts, which are in continual decay. And because their continual reparation was absolutely necessary to the conservation of the Creature, therefore Nature gave it an Appetite and desire of them; which if it be of meats, is call'd Hunger; if of drink, Thirst; either of them accompa∣ny'd with pain and pleasure; the pain, to give notice of the time to take food; the pleasure, to make these natural actions perform'd the more willingly. All which, for the same reason, Nature ha's season'd with pleasure, so long as they are not ex∣cessive. Therefore being Pleasure and Pain stil follow one ano∣ther in natural actions, it seems that the one ought to be the rule of the other: And so, since there is more pleasure in drink∣ing then in eating, there is also more pain in thirst then in hung∣ger. Now that drinking is more delicious then eating is mani∣fest, because drink refreshes the body almost in an instant, with∣out disturbing it, as food does, restoring it but by little and little, and so with less pleasure, which is again diminish'd by the agitation caus'd in the head, by the motion of the nether jaw for the grinding of the meat. Yea, if we may believe good drinkers, as experienc'd in this matter, they eat onely to irritate their thirst, to the end they may have more contentment in drinking.

The Second said, The more necessary a thing is, the more painful is the want of it. Now the needs of thirst seem the more considerable, for that the absumption of humid substance is more speedy then that of dry, which consequently hath not so urgent necessity of being repair'd as the humid. Moreover, most drinks allay Hunger too as well as thirst; and therefore there is no more excellent remedy against a Boulimie, or Doggish Hunger then Wine; whereas, on the contrary, eating provokes

Thirst instead of appeasing it. And this Thirst is not onely intollerable in health, but almost in all diseases; for, excepting the aforesoid Boulimie, all sick persons prefer drinking before eat∣ing, as having more need of it; yea, those to whom eating is necessary, (for many are cur'd by abstinence) their food must ordinarily be liquid, that is to say, of the nature of drink; the drynesse of solid food requiring a greater strength of stomack then sick persons have, for reducing it into Chyle, whose form is liquid; Nature being unable to accommodate it self to any other. All which evidenceth that Humidity is the more necessary, and also the more difficult to be forborn.

The Third said, Experience determines the Question to the advantage of Hunger, since none of us returning home to a meal he begins it with drink, unless be indispos'd. And even they who have intention to begin it so do it in preparation to eating. Moreover, Thirst is only a mutation of quality, which is for that reason most properly call'd Alteration; because the humidity of the superior orifice of the stomack, in which alone Thirst resides, is then found alter'd, and chang'd into drynesse: But Hunger is an inanition and defect of the substance requisite to fill the vacuities of our parts. So that Hunger surpasses Thirst, as much as substance does an Accident. For these De∣finitions, that Hunger is a desire of Hot and Dry, as Thirst is of Cold and Moist, seem to be defective; not onely because Hun∣ger▪ would never be appeas'd by an exhalation Hot and Dry, or by any other body of the same nature intromitted into the sto∣mack, unlesse it were proper to nourish and mix'd with the other qualities; but also because Hunger and Thirst are pains, and particularly Hunger, a Convulsion of the stomack, and not Desires or Appetites, whose seat is in the Heart, and not in the Ventricle. And if Hunger were onely after Hot and Dry, then Purslane, Lettice, Melons, and other Cold and Moist Aliments would never satisfie it; as likewise broths would not allay Thirst when taken (as 'tis the custom) actually Hot, nor yet Wine which is hot in power, and heats effectually instead of refrige∣rating, if Thirst were onely after Cold and Moist. But that which shews Hunger to be more insupportable then Thirst, is, that many Hydropical persons, and others, have liv'd some years without drinking; whereas no body ever could spend much time without eating, unlesse by miracle; and Famine is often reckon'd among the scourges of God, but Thirst never.

The Fourth said, Hunger is caus'd by the continual action of heat upon our substance, which, to secure it self, by help of the same heat attracts what ever is most fluid and moveable in the next part; this again draws what it can from its neighbour, to supply fewel to this heat. And thus successively from the extremities of the body to the mesaraick veins in the centre; which, to give supply to this continual suction, powerfully drain out of the guts the purest of the aliment, as these do from the

stomack; which being exhausted, the acide humour diffus'd in the bottom of it, whither 'tis convey'd from the spleen by the Vas breve, vellicates the internal tunicle, and causes a pain in it not to be asswag'd but by the application of Aliment; and this they call Hunger, which also is increas'd by acid things. And this pain, according as 'tis more or less sensible, in regard of the acrimony or quantity of the acide humour, and according as the inside of the stomack is lin'd with natural mucosity, makes Hunger to be more easily tolerated by some, then by others. Thirst is a Desiccation, and Calefaction of the upper orifice of the stomack, greater or less according to the degrees of heat, or as any defluxion of fresh or salt Phlegme descends from the Brain upon the orifice. So that they whose natural or accidental heat is less endure Hunger and Thirst best. Which, to the end this Question, must be consider'd neither absolutely or respectively. In the first manner, since eating and drinking are equally necessa∣ry, thence Hunger and Thirst shall be equally insupportable. But comparing one Age, one Sex, and one Constitution with another; Hunger will be more intollerable then Thirst to a Child, to a Woman, and to an Old Man, especially if they be Phlegmatick or Melancholy; on the contrary, Thirst will be more difficult to endure by a young man if he be cholerick or sanguine.

The Fifth said, That the afflux of the melancholy humour may cause the Canine, but not that natural Hunger, which is one∣ly a suction made in the upper orifice of the Ventricle, perceptible by the Nerves of the sixth Conjugation, were the melancholy humour cannot come. Moreover, Nature, who alwayes takes the shortest way, makes the melancholy humour descend from the Spleen into the Haemorrhoidal Veins; otherwise that impure blood, and the most malignant of all the excretions, would infect the Ventricle, and by it the Chyle. And there being no humour that causes natural Thirst, 'tis not necessary there should be any to produce Thirst; which I account more or less supportable, according to the several habits of Body; to the fat, Thirst, and Hunger to the lean.

II. Whether a General of an Army should endanger his person.

Upon the Second Point, That the value which Men put upon Valour, which is nothing else but a contempt of dangers, shews that those who would partake most of honour must also have the greatest share in the danger, according to the Proverb, None triumphs without fighting; and if we take the opinion of Souldiers, who are the best judges in this case, they never so willingly resign themselves to any Leader, as to him that freely ventures his life with them; it being no less incompetible for a General to advance himself, and get credit and Reputation in Armes without indangering his person, then for a Pilot to saile well upon the Sea without incurring the hazard of shipwrack. So that we may say of war, what is commonly said of the Sea, He

that fears danger must not go to it. The Civilians have the same meaning when they commit the charge of guardianships to those that are most qualifi'd to succeed, and there can be no honour without a charge; whence the words are promiscu∣ously us'd in our Language. Moreover, as no Sermon is more eloquent then the exemplary life of the Preacher; so no Milita∣ry Oration is so perswasive, or so well receiv'd by an Army, as the example of its General, when they see him strike the first blow; as, on the contrary, if he testifies any fear, every one taking his actions for a rule, and conforming thereunto, will do the same; he will not be obey'd but with regret, and through a servile fear of punishment, not out of a gallant sense of ho∣nour, because he that is most honor'd in the Army is most re∣mote from blows; at least, the other Leaders and Officers will do as much, and all the Souldiers in imitation of them. In brief, we need but consider, how not only the Marcelli, the Ca∣milli, the Scipio's, Hannibal, and many other Generals of Ar∣mies, but Alexander, Caesar, and in our time Henry the Great, and the King of Sweden, all Sovereign Princes, were sufficiently venturous of their persons; and that it was not by not taking part in dangers, that they triumph'd over their enemies.

The Second said, That to know how to command well, and how to execute well, are two several Talents, and depend upon several abilities; they who are born to command, being unfit to execute; and, on the contrary, they who are proper to obey being incapable of commanding. Wherefore the Head of an Army, who gives Orders and Commands, must cause them to be exe∣cuted by others. So the Judge pronounces the Sentence, and appoints Serjeants to put it in execution; the Physitian com∣mands his Patient, who obeys his prescriptions; the Pilot, the Officers of the Ship, but himself Steers not. But that which should most restrain a General from acting in person, is, that he cannot in this occurrence preserve the prudence which is abso∣lutely necessary to him. For the heat of Courage heightned by that of the Charge and the Encounter, being wholly contrary to the coldness of Prudence, which is inconsistent with the vio∣lent motions caus'd by the ardour of fury, commonly attending Valour, renders him precipitate, inconstant and incapable, for the time, to deliberate of fit means, to chuse them, and cause them to be executed. Moreover, the General being the Chief∣tain of the Army ought to resemble the Head; which derives sense and motion to the parts, yet stirs not for their defence, but on the contrary, employs them for its own. So the prime Cap∣tain ought to sway and manage the body of his Army by his Counsels and Orders; but not put his own person in danger, because upon his safety depends that of all the rest, who being destitute of a Chieftain remains like a body without a head, and an unprofitable trunk. Therefore Generals of Armies are compar'd to the heads of Cypress-Trees; which being once lop'd off, the stem never thrives afterwards.

The Third said, The highest point of judgement is to distin∣guish appearence from truth, and in all professions 'tis very dan∣gerous, though in appearence more honorable, to be carri'd to extreams, but especially in War, where there is not room for many mistakes. The General who exposes his life cannot be ex∣cus'd from ambition or imprudence; from the former, if he do's it without necessity; from the latter, if for want of having rightly order'd his affairs he sees himself reduc'd to that point. Whereas, as in Artificial Engines the piece which gives motion to the rest is immoveable; so the General who gives order to the main of the Army ought to have the like influence upon it: as the heart in the middle of the body, and the brain in the mid∣dle of the head, to transmit life and spirits to the whole body, and to occur to accidents both foreseen and unexpected. Otherwise, should the principal parts not be contented to fol∣low the body, but change their natural situation, all the parts would be doubly inconvenienc'd; both because they would not know where to find them when they needed their direction; and because the least offence of the nobler parts being mortal, their hurt would redound not only to themselves, but also to the rest of the body. Moreover, if the General act the Souldier, who shall act the Captain? how will the Corporal and common Souldier do? They will all think themselves become equal to their superiors, they will no longer do any thing but in their company; and 'twill be no wonder if disorder slides into all the member; when it has begun at the head. If they be blam'd for not knowing how to obey, their excuse will be ready, That they have to do with Leaders who know not how to command. Besides, the General hath the same relation to his Army that the First President hath to a Parliament. Now what would you say if the First President should manage the cause, and un∣dertake to plead it, although the Advocates acquitted them∣selves ill? Even Domestick Government may serve for a rule in this case; the head of a Family losing his credit among his servants, when he sets himself to do their work. For whereas almost all the affairs of men depend upon opinion, when the re∣spect which arises from the authority of the superior over his in∣feriors is once shaken, as it is by the too great familiarity which the society of dangers begets, contempt will be apt to justle out duty. And the common Souldier looks upon his General but as another man when he sees him partake of the same hardships with him. Upon this account were invented the Diadems, Scepters, Crowns, and other ornaments of Sovereigns, and their Magistrates; the meanest of which, instructed by experience, are jealous of their authority, which they keep up by separa∣ting themselves from the commerce of the vulgar; but lose it as soon as they receive those for companions over whom they are to command.

The Fourth said, That Reward and Punishment being the

two Supports of all our actions (but especially in War, where there is not time to make all the inductions requisite to a good ra∣tiocination) neither of them can be well administer'd without the presence of the Chieftain, who alone can judge of the merit of his Souldiers, free from all passions, especially, envy and jea∣lousie, which are found amongst equals: for want of which both the one and the other sometimes complain with good rea∣son, the meaner of not being seen, and the great persons of not seeing but by the eyes of others. And therefore the presence of the King hath been always of more value then twenty thou∣sand men.

The Fifth said, That in this, as in all other moral Questions, 'tis impossible to give a definitive judgement, because things of this nature depend not upon certain and infallible causes (as na∣tural things do) but upon free causes, which borrow their com∣mendation or blame from the diversity of the circumstances of things, of time, place, persons, and other accidents; which being infinite, and consequently impossible to be known, have no other rule but that of Prudence assisted by experience. So that it cannot be determin'd absolutely whether the Chieftain of an Army ought to fight or not, but we must distinguish the dif∣ferent occasions which oblige him thereunto, or not. When he understands himself weaker then his enemy, and sees the cou∣rage of his Souldiers low, if he cannot avoid giving battel, he must animate his Souldiers by his own example; as also when he is oblig'd by some notable surprizal to lay all at stake; or when he undertakes such great matters, that otherwise he can never accomplish them; as when Alexander conquer'd the whole World, his Father Philip all Greece, and Caesar the Roman Empire. In every other case, 'tis imprudence, temerity and injustice, in a head of an Army to esteem his own life no more then that of a common Souldier. Yea 'tis greater courage to render himself inflexible in the exact and rigorous maintaining of his orders then to engage himself in fight. In doing which, he notoriously argues his conduct of weakness, since it hath suf∣fer'd things to come to so ill a pass, that he is reduc'd to this extremity of hazarding the loss of his victory, which ordinarily follows the death of the General, and is much more prejudical to his Army then the example is profitable which he gives to those few that are about him, who are not always induc'd to imitate it. Like those Empiricks who employ extream reme∣dies to common diseases, instead of reserving them only for the desperate.

CONFERENCE LXII.

I. Of Time. II. Whether 'tis best to overcome by open force, or otherwise.

I. Of Time.

EVery thing that hath existence hath a duration. If this duration hath neither beginning nor end, such as that of God is, 'tis call'd Eternity: if it hath a beginning, but no end, as that of the Heavens, Angels and rational Souls, 'tis call'd by the Latines Aevum; if it hath both beginning and end, as the duration of all material and sublunary things, 'tis call'd Time; which, although in the mouth of every one, is nevertheless dif∣ficult to understand, the Vulgar improperly attributing this name to the Heaven or the Air, saying, 'Tis a fair Time (or Weather) when the Air and Heaven are serene and clear. For although Time be inseparable from Heaven, yet 'tis as different from it as the effect is from its cause: And Pythagoras was de∣ceiv'd when he thought that Time was the Celestial Sphere; as well as Plato, who held it to be the conversion of that Sphere; and Democritus, the motion of every thing. Nevertheless, Heaven and Time may be conceiv'd distinctly and a sunder, be∣cause Time is the duration of the World, the noblest part whereof is Heaven; and the effects of Time are not known to us but by the motion of the Heavens and the Stars, which make the Seasons, Years, Weeks, Days and Hours, with the difference of day and night.

The Second said, That Time is a pure creature of our Phan∣cy, and hath no real existence in Nature, since it hath no parts. For time pass'd is no more, the future is not yet; the present is but a moment, which cannot be part of time; since 'tis com∣mon to every part that being taken several times it composes and compleats its total; which agrees not to a moment, a hun∣dred thousand moments added together making but one mo∣ment, and therefore cannot make the least part of time, no more then an infinite number of points can make the least line, because it is not compos'd of points; as time is not compos'd of moments. For if you say Time is the flux of a moment, as a line is the flux of a point, this argues not the existence of Time, because a point leaves something behind it as it moves, but a moment doth not. Yea, if we believe Aristotle, a moment is not in Time. For either 'tis one moment, or many. If one, it will follow that what is done at present, and what a thousand years ago, were done at the same time, because in the same moment. If there be many moments in time, they must suc∣ced one another, one perishing as the next arises, just as of the parts of time, the pass'd perishes to give birth to the future.

But a moment cannot perish. For it must perish either in time, or in an instant. Not in time, for this is divisible, but an instant indivisible. Nor yet in an instant. For either that instant would be it self, and so it should be, and not be, together: or it would be the instant before it; which will not hold; because whilst that preceding instant exists, this other is not yet in be∣ing; or, lastly, 'twould be the instant after it, and then this in∣stant would be gone before. Wherefore either Time is nothing at all, or else but an imaginary thing. And indeed it seems consentaneously call'd Number and Measure; because neither of these hath other existence then in the mind. For if you say, with some, that time is essential to things, you may as well say that the Ell is of the essence of the cloath which it measures, and number essential to the things numbred; so that, by this reckoning, Measure and Number should be of all sorts of Na∣tures, because they are apply'd to all things.

The Third said, That amongst real things some are momen∣tary, being made and perishing in one and the same instant, which is the measure of their existence; others are perdurable, amongst which as there is something that hath always been, and shall always be; others that have not always been, yet shall al∣ways be; so there are some that have not been sometimes, and sometimes shall be no more. Again, of these latter, some have all their parts together; others have them one after another. The first are continuous, and their duration is their age; the second are successive, whose duration is time. For duration follows the existence of every thing as necessarily as existence follows essence. Existence is the term of production. Dura∣tion is the term of conservation. So that, to doubt whether there be such a real thing in Nature as Time, is to doubt of the duration and existence of every thing; although the Scripture should not assure us that God made the day and the night, which are parts of time. Moreover, the contrary reasons prove nothing, saving that time is not of the nature of continuous be∣ings, but of successive, which consists in having no parts really present. This Time is defin'd, by the Philosopher. The Num∣ber of Motion according to its prior and posterior parts; that is to say, by means of time we know how long the motion lasted, when it begun, and when it ended. For being Number may serve for Measure, and Measure for number, therefore they are both taken for one and the same thing. Indeed, when a thing is mov'd, 'tis over some space; whose first parts answer to the first parts of motion, and the latter parts of the space to the latter parts of the motion, and from this succession of the latter parts of the motion to the former ariseth a duration, which is time, long or short, according to the slowness or quickness of this motion. And because by means of this duration we number and measure that of motions, and of all our actions, therefore it is call'd Number or Measure; although it be onely a Pro∣priety

of Time to serve for a Measure, and no ways of its essence.

The Fourth said, That to understand time, 'tis requisite to understand the motion, and two moments, one whereof was at the beginning of that motion, and the other at the end; and then to imagine the middle, or distance between those two ex∣treams, which middle is Time. Therefore man alone being able to make comparison of those two extreams, only he of all animals understands and computes time. Hence they who wake out of a deep and long sleep think it but a small while since they first lay down to rest, because they took no notice of the intermediate motions, and think the moment wherein they fell asleep and that wherein they wak'd, is but one single mo∣ment. The same also happens to those who are so intent upon any action or contemplation, that they heed not the duration of motions. Now not only the motions of the body, but those of the mind are measured by time. Therefore, in the dark, he that should perceive no outward motion, not even in his own body, might yet conceive time by the duration of his soul's actions, his thoughts, desires, and other spiritual motion. And as Time is the Measure of Motion, so it is likewise of rest; since the reason of contraries is the same. And, consequently, motion and rest being the causes of all things, time, which is their dura∣tion, is also their universal cause.

The Fifth said, That 'tis ordinary to men to attribute the effects whereof they know not the causes, to other known causes, though indeed they be nothing less; so they attribute misfortunes, losses, death, oblivion, and such other things, to Heaven, to Time, or to place, although they cannot be the causes thereof. Hence some certain days have been superstiti∣ously accounted fortunate or unfortunate, as by the Persians the third and sixth of August, in regard of the losses which they had suffer'd upon those days; the first of April by Darius and the Carthaginians, because upon the same day he had lost a Bat∣tle to Alexander, and these were driven out of Sicily by Timo∣leon, who was always observ'd to have had some good fortune upon his birth day. Moreover, the Genethliacks affirm that the day of Nativity is always discriminated by some remarkable accident: for which they alledge the example of Charles V. whose birth day, the 24th of February, was made remarkable to him by his election to the Empire, and the taking of Francis I. before Pavia. Such was also that day afterwards solemniz'd, in which Philip of Macedon receiv'd his three good tidings. But as there is no hour, much less day, but is signaliz'd by some strange accidents, so there is not any but hath been both fortunate and unfortunate. As was that of Alexander's birth, who saw Diana's Temple at Ephesus burnt by Herostratus, and the Persians put wholly to the rout: Yet the same Alexander, as likewise Attalus, Pompey, and many others, dy'd upon the day of

their Nativity; so did Augustus upon that of his Inauguration. Wherefore 'tis no less ridiculous to refer all these accidents to Time, then to attribute to it the mutation, oblivion, and death of all things, whereof it is not the cause; although for this pur∣pose Saturn was painted with a sickle in his hand, with which he hew'd every thing down, and devour'd his own children. For Time as well as Place being quantities, which are no ways active, they cannot be the causes of any things.

The Sixth said, Time is diversly taken and distinguish'd ac∣cording to the diversity of Professions. Historians divide it in∣to the four Monarchies, of the Medes, the Persians, the Greeks, and the Romans, and the States and Empires which have suc∣ceeded them: The Church into Working-days and Festivals: the Lawyers into Terms and Vacations; the Naturalists consi∣der them simply as a property of natural body; Astronomers, as an effect of Heaven; Physitians, as one of the principal cir∣cumstances of Diseases, which they divide into most acute, acute, and chronical or long, which exceed 40 days; and each of them into their beginning, augmentation, state and decli∣nation, as distinguish'd by the common, indicatory and criti∣cal days.

II. Whether 'tis best to over∣come by open force or other∣wise.

Upon the second Point it was said, That Force being that which first caus'd obedience and admiration in the world, the strongest having ever over-mastered others; it cannot enter into comparison with a thing that passes for a Vice, and even amongst Women, as sleight and and subtlety doth; and crafts in any action otherwise glorious, greatly diminisheth its lustre. So Hercules is more esteem'd for having slain the Nemaean Lion with his club, then Lysimachus for having taken away the life of another by dextrously thrusting his hand wrap'd up in a piece of cloth in∣to his open'd throat, and so strangling him; of which no other reason can be given, but that the former kil'd him by his cunning, and the other by plain strength. Moreover, General things are made of Particular; duels and single fights, are little pictures of battles. Now every one knows what difference there is between him that overcomes his Enemy without any foul play, and another that makes use of some invention or artisice to get ad∣vantage of him. For though Duels are justly odious to all good men, yet he that hath behav'd himself gallantly therein, even when he is overcome gains more Honour then he that by some fraud hath gotten the life of his Enemy. Indeed, the word Virtue com∣ing from the Latine which, signifies Man, implyes that to be virtu∣ous, 'tis requir'd to overcome as a Man, and leave tricks, sleights, and subtleties to Women, to supply their weakness; and yet Women too, when they see the masculine vigorous deportment, and feats of Arms of a Cavalier, that has won the victory over his Enemy, will prefer him before an other who hath had the same advantage without striking a blow. Whence it appears,

that in all sort of Minds, Generosity and Courage finds more fa∣vour then subtlety.

The Second said, That the Emblem of the Wind and the Sun, trying which should make the Traveller quit his Cloak, (attributing the mastery to the Sun above the Wind) shews that Force is not alwayes the most efficacious. For he who aimes to overcome must accomplish it by the most facile way; which being ordinarily the gentlest, because it finds least resistance, brings about its designes more easily then violence, which giving the Alarm makes every one stand upon his guard, and renders all enterprizes dangerous. Therefore the wise General who commits his affairs to Chance as little as he can, assayes all other means before he comes to open force; imitating a discreet Master of a Family, who never falls to blows either in his house, or out of it, so long as he hath any hope from wayes of gentle∣ness. Moreover, the means which peculiarly belong to Man ought to be prefer'd before those which are common to him with brutes; yea, in which they go beyond him. And you see that they are not the most strong and robust that command in Monarchies and States, but the most wise and prudent, whose bodies are commonly more weak through their great watchings and toils; and because these delicate bodies are more easie to be govern'd by the powers of the Soul, which consequently are more worthily exercis'd therein.

The Third said, That Philip of Macedon had reason to com∣pare subtlety to the Foxes skin, as force to the Lion's, saying, that the former was to be made use of when the latter hapened to be too short. For he who employes subtlety in war, thereby acknowledges his weaknesse which made an old Cap∣tain say, when he was advis'd to set upon his Enemy in the night, That he would win, not steal a Victory. For he that is vanquish'd onely by stratagem does not acknowledge himself worsted; and they who make use of wiles, when they think they have done, they are alwayes to begin again; as the Barre∣tors who by some subtlety have procur'd a Verdict are never secure against new Sutes. So a little man, skill'd in wrastling, may haply trip up his more sturdy Antagonist, and so be counted more dextrous or nimble, but not more strong then he. More∣over, since all actions take their rule from Justice, which cannot consist with fraud, he is not to be reputed a Conqueror that hath gotten a Victory unjustly.

The Fourth said, That if we receive the judgement of the vanquish'd, the Victors are alwayes faulty. Therefore it mat∣ters not by what means we defeat our Enemies, provided those means be lawful, and transgress not the maxime of Divines; That evil is not to be done to the end good may come of it. This premiz'd, 'tis not onely lawfull for the chief of an Army, but perfectly his duty to deprive his Enemies of all advantages before the fight, in it, and afterward besieging

places, defending them, or giving them relief. So Joshuah, to encourage the Israelites to make an invasion into the land of Canaan, caus'd Grapes of prodigious greatness which grew in that Country to be shew'd them in the Desart. Cato, to animate the Romans to the Carthaginian War, let fall in the Senate some of the large African Figgs, crying, that there were but three days sail from the place where they grew. An other, by letting loose a Hare from the walls of Thebes, thereby assur'd his Soul∣diers that they had to do onely with cowards, since they suffer'd those Animals to come amongst them. M. Antonius, to exaspe∣rate the Romans against the murtherers of Caesar, display'd his shirt to them all bloody. And Augustus, to convince them of ingratitude, publish'd his Testament, true or fictitious; where∣by he made those very murtherers his heirs. Others, of whom Examples are infinite, by continual Alarms oblige their Enemies to watch and stand for some dayes in armes before the fight, to the end to tire them out by those toiles; they weaken them by delights, cut off their provisions, hinder their relief, raise false reports, and intercept Letters on purpose to abate their Courage, or that of their Allies. In the fight, they strive to give their Enemies the disadvantage of the wind, dust, smoak, and Sun in their faces; they possess the highest and most advantagious places, and drive them upon precipices, ditches, bogs, and other incommodious places; they let loose mad beasts upon them, as Elephants of old, to break their ranks, and strike terror into them; which others do also by their cryes, words, armes, engines, and other uncouth inventions, the strangeness whereof making a great impression in their Minds, puts them into disorder. They make shew of assailing them on one side, whilst on the other, where they are weakest, they give an assault in good earnest. Some have overcome them by their celerity, surprizing them asleep, feasting, playing, or wearied; others, by a contrary stratagem, get the better of them by patience, undermining and consuming them by little and little. After the fight, when the Enemies are defeated, they hinder them from getting toge∣ther again in a body. In brief, all the sleight and artifice that humane invention can imagine, to confound the counsels, and dissipate the forces of the Enemy, hath been in all times employ'd to that end; and they who have best practis'd the same, have gotten the name of great Captains. Therefore Virgil had reason to say, That it was not to be consider'd, whether fraud or force were to be us'd against an Enemy; but to conclude, both are succesfully joyn'd together.

CONFERENCE LXIII.

I. Of Motion. II. Of Custome.

I. Of Motion.

MOtion is consider'd variously in the Sciences. By Meta∣physicks, inasmuch as Entity is divided into Moveable and Immoveable. By Natural Philosophy, as 'tis an internal pro∣priety of a Natural Body. By Logick, so far as 'tis inseparable from Contrariety, whereof it treats amongst the Opposites. By Physick, as being comprehended amongst the six things not-na∣tural. By Astronomy, as it is annex'd to the Heavens, and by them is the cause of all those here below. By the Mechanicks, as 'tis the Agent of all their Engines. And 'twere to be wish'd for the perfection of the Mathematicks, that as some of them treat of continuous Quantity permanent; (as Geometry) others, of discrete Quantity, (as Arithmetick) considering them abstracted from their matter; so there were some that treated purely of the nature and properties of continuous Quantity suc∣cessive, which is Motion. For the doctrine of Motion is so ex∣cellent, that by its help Philosophers guided onely by the light of Nature have come to the knowledge of one Eternal God alone, and of the dependance that all beings have upon one sole cause; because every thing that is mov'd is mov'd by something else; otherwise, if it mov'd it self, it should make it self perfect; since every thing that moves gives perfection, and that which is mov'd receives the same. Now this cannot be, because then one and the same thing should at the same time be both Agent and Patient, have and not have perfection, be and not be; which is the greatest absurdity. Wherefore what ever is mov'd, 'tis mov'd by some other thing, and this by some other, till you come to a First Mover, who gives Motion to all things. For otherwise there would be a progress into infinity, which cannot be admitted into causes. Likewise, that all things depend upon a Supreme Cause is prov'd by Motion; because every thing that is mov'd depends upon that which moves it: Whereupon the Naturalists say, that it is united thereunto by a Contact either of the Suppositum, or of Virtue; and therefore all things being mov'd by that First Cause, depend wholly upon it, and are united to it. But as excellent things are most difficult, and com∣monly the clearest are assaulted by the strongest objections; so there have been some persons that have deny'd Motion, as Parme∣nides and Zeno, (although it hath as true existence as Nature which is the principle of it) because they could not answer the objections brought against it. Others, on the contrary, as Hera∣clitus, have conceiv'd that all things are in continual Motion, although the same be never perceiv'd by our Senses. But Ari∣stotle, according to his wont, chusing the middle opinion, hath

affirm'd, That there are some things which alwayes move; others, that alwayes rest, and others that move and rest alter∣nately. That which alwayes rests is the First Mover; That which alwayes moves, is the Heavens, whose never interrupted circular Motion comes very near infinity. Things which move and rest at times, are all other simple or compound bodies, in which the Motion is either natural, as in fire to mount up∣wards; or in violent, as in the same fire to descend downwards. Both which kinds of Motion admit of rest too; the natural, when the body hath found its centre; the violent, at the point of re∣flection, or when the virtue impress'd upon it by the Agent ceases.

The Second said, The incessant mutation made in all things, argues that there is no Rest; since Rest is the abiding of things in one and the same state, and nothing doth so. Nor is there any Motion, because if there were, it should be made in an In∣stant. But Nothing is chang'd in an Instant, being all Mutation presupposes two termes; one, From which, and another, To which; and there are no termes without a middle, or medium; nor can any thing pass from one terme to another through a medium, but in time. That Motion must be made in an Instant, appears, be∣cause there is nothing between the last point of that which is to be chang'd, and the first of that which is chang'd. For in Local Motion, a stone begins to be mov'd at the same instant wherein it ceases to rest. There is therefore no intermediate space be∣tween its motion and its rest: And if two extremes which have no medium between them be together, then things which are together are in one and the same moment. This is yet further manifest in the other kinds of Motion. For in Generation there is nothing between Not-Being; and Being, and in Corruption nothing between Being and Not-Being. Otherwise, there should be something that exists and exists not; which is contra∣ry to the first principle. In Alteration, as soon as the Air is il∣luminated the Darkness ceaseth, and there is nothing between them. In Accretion or Augmentation, the Body is still in its first quantity till it receive a greater; as likewise in Diminution 'tis alwayes in the same magnitude, till it be reduc'd to a less. For we must beware of taking the dispositions or preparations to all these motions for the motions themselves.

The Third said, 'Tis easier to say what Motion is not, then what it is; since the Philosopher tells us, that it hath more of Non-entity then of Entity. Wherefore being things cannot be known but so far as they are true, and they are not true but so far as they have Being, 'tis no wonder if Motion be one of the difficultest to be understood; and 'tis the more so, because we must not confound with the other things that accompany it, which are the Agent and Patient, their action and passion, its two termes, the extent of place, time, and the subject wherein it is caus'd. Besides, every thing that is known, being so either by

it self when it is real, or by some other when it is not such; Mo∣tion which partly is, and partly is not, can neither be known by it self, nor by some thing else; for it cannot be known by the Senses, nor, without their help, by the Intellect; there being in Motion a something before, and something after; and conse∣quenly, a correspondence which falls not within cognizance of the Senses. Therefore, to supply this defect, the Philosophers have describ'd Motion, (of it self insensible) by things that fall under sense, saying, that it is That which is included between the term From which, and the term To which; as the Physitians render the motions of life sensible by Dentition, Puberty, Stature, different colours of the Hair; in short, by the vigor and inclina∣tion of actions, and by such other sensible signes which notifie the diversity of Ages: And the Astrologers, those of the Sun, and other Stars, by the houses of the Zodiack, their Oppositions and different Aspects; as also by the dispositions of the Air which make the diversity of our seasons; like those Travellers which distinguish the number of miles by Cities, Villages, Crosses, and other visible signes. Motion is therefore the passage from one term to the other. And so, not onely when my hand slides from one side of this paper to the other, but also when of hot it becomes cold, there is made a Motion.

II. Of Custome.

Upon the Second Point it was said, That Right is divided into written and not written; the former is the Laws, the second is Custome, which is of Right us'd of long time, establish'd by little by the liking of every one, and approv'd by the tacite consent of the whole people; and therefore more grateful then Law, which never equally pleases all; and is oftimes form'd in an instant: But Custome, taking root by time, is not establish'd, except after long experiences. 'Tis of account among Physitians, that Hippocrates commands that regard be had to it as well to the age, the disease, the country, and the season; yea, he saith, that all things accustomed, (although bad) are yet less hurtful then those which are unusual, although better in themselves. Amongst Lawyers nothing is so powerful as Custome, which makes us pa∣tiently endure things contrary to the equity and nature it self; such is the exclusion of the younger Children from a share of the inheritance, which amongst the Gentry of most Nations de∣scends to the eldest. The variety of Custome makes some Na∣tions prefer a supercilious gravity; others, familiarity and cour∣tesie: Some are commendable for sobriety, others are notorious for drunkennesse. Some people, as the Albanians, accounted it impious to speak of the dead; and amongst us, 'tis impiety not to think of them. Amongst the first, Egyptians, women went to the Tavern, and men spun at home; as amongst the Amazons, the women alone were Souldiers. The Lacedemonians permit∣ted Theft, provided it were committed dextrously. The Ar∣rians, on the contrary, ston'd the most pety Thieves. Amongst

the Babylonian Ladies she was held the most vertuous who pro∣stituted her honour to most people, whereas nothing is so tender∣ly regarded among all other Nations. In brief, we are civil or uncivil, good or bad, foolish or wise, or any thing else, accord∣ing to custom, which Erasmus calls the Monosyllable Tyrant, because 'tis term'd Mos in Latine; a Tyrant, to whom he is so distastful that doth not dress himself, make his reverences, and do every thing to obey it, that he passes for a fool in all the rest of his actions.

The Second said, Custom bears such a sway over all the acti∣ons of men, that it renders all things familiar to them. The Understanding commonly embraces the falshoods which it first imbib'd, and rejects the truth (its proper object) whereunto it is not accustomed. The cause of which is, for that what the In∣tellect apprehends it so familiarizes to it self as to become con∣formable thereunto, and by the pattern thereof judges of all the rest thenceforward; yea of it self, which being become like to the thing apprehended cannot approve the contrary; every thing being pleas'd with its like. The Will, although free in all its actions, yet undergoes some sort of constraint, when it finds it self more inclin'd to persons of acquaintance then to un∣known, though more accomplish'd. Moreover, we love ra∣ther by custom then by reason. Hence Mothers more tenderly affect their Children with whom they commonly converse more, then Fathers do; and Nurses more then some Mothers. As the Memory decays through want of being exercis'd, so experi∣ence shews us that the most certain Art of it is to cultivate it. Custom hath such a power over the Imagination, that those who think frequently of any thing, dream of it likewise when they are asleep. Amongst the outward Senses, is not the Sight dazled when we come out of the dark into a bright place? as, on the other side, we see not a jot when we go out of the Sun into a very shady place; yet our eyes perform their office, be∣ing accustom'd to both. Those who live neer the Cataracts of Nile, the Artificers whose noise displeases us so much, and who dwell in Mills and Forges, are not disgusted with those clatters, and rest as sweetly without silence as others do with it. Neat∣herds, accustomed to breathe in Stables, swoon at the smell of perfumes. The mischief arising to Infants by changing their milk as well as the manner of living to all ages, and the diversi∣ty of tolerating pains according as people are hardned to them, or not, justifie the power of custom over all our Senses. So that it is justly stil'd the Mistress of Man, stronger then Nature, which it alters and destroys, and is so powerful that it cannot be destroy'd but by it self.

The Third said, That Custom is less strong then Nature, be∣ing difficult to change only because 'tis some-ways like Nature. Hence 'tis easier to reclaim one that is vicious by custom then by nature; for this custom being a habit, the same actions which

gave it being by their frequent repetition, destroy it likewise by their interruption. But Nature being radicated within us may indeed be encounter'd, but always holds out; yea, accord∣ing to the Proverb, it returns although you drive it away with a fork. The melancholy person cannot so well play the Greek, and be jovial in company, as not to discover some token of that sad humour, amidst his greatest rejoycing. On the contrary, you will see sanguine humours which cannot counterfeit sadness even in matters that require it most. The cholerick sometimes governs his passion well by reason; but he can never suppress the first motions of it, because they are not in our power; and therefore Philosophy rather masks, then amends nature. In fine, the Phlegmatick always appears slow and stupid in his most violent motions; on the contrary, custom is easily alter'd by a good resolution; as we see in abundance of holy and pe∣nitent souls, who forsaking the world, in an instant divest themselves of all their evil habits, and put on those of piety. And Socrates could by the precepts of Philosophy change his evil habits, not his natural inclinations, but that there appear'd suffi∣cient tokens thereof in his countenance, to justifie the judge∣ment of Zopyrus the Physiognomer.

The Fourth said, We are beholden to custom, that every one abides in his own condition. 'Tis that which makes Sea∣men prefer the tempests at sea before rest at land, and the la∣borer despise the treasures of the East, for his cart. It made Caesar go bare-headed, although bald, in all the ardours of Africk, and the coldest climates of the North. It arms the beg∣gar to encounter with hunger, cold, and the other incommodi∣ties of the air. 'Tis from hence that we see slaves sell their li∣berty after they have receiv'd it from their Masters; they are so accustom'd to live in chains. 'Tis this and not nature which lays shame upon the parts most necessary for conservation of the species: witness the punishment of some Indians upon such as have abus'd them; for they condemn them to cover them, whereas others wholly discover them; and these criminals ac∣count not themselves less punish'd hereby then those that here are pillory'd or carted; which also is not ignominious amongst us but by custom. It likewise exercises dominion over ceremo∣nies and civilities, most whereof are so contrary to health and seemliness. It keeps the Mint where honour is coin'd; and that which is not register'd there passes for errour and clow∣nishness. 'Tis this which causes men to kiss one another when they salute, whereas thirty years ago they retir'd backward with many reverences which denoted respect; yea it bears such an absolute rule over mens minds, that as the Greeks and Ro∣mans stil'd all Barbarians who follow'd not their laws and fa∣shions, all the world n••w do's the like still, judging ancient or forreign modes and usages ridiculous. We blame the manners of the Aethiopians and Chineses as they do ours; the visages of

the people which most frighten us are best lik'd by them; and we phancy deformity with the same lineaments and colours wherewith they paint beauty. Those Americans who kill their old decrepit Parents, instead of believing themselves parricides, call us cruel for letting ours continue so long in the miseries of age. Infinite like instances have caus'd some to say, that 'tis another nature: but I hold it stronger then nature, since by it Mithridates render'd poyson innoxious to himself, and some whole Nations of India live upon Toads, Lizards and Spiders. Yea it hath made death as lovely and desireable as life amongst great Nations; whereas Philosophy with all its pompous dis∣courses hath labour'd much to render the same indifferent to a few persons. 'Tis call'd by Pindar the Emperess of the world, and caus'd Seneca to say, that we govern not our selves by rea∣son but by custom, accounting that most honest which is most practis'd; and error serves us for a law when it is become pub∣lick. Lastly, 'tis stronger then the laws themselves, since it gives them all the power and authority which they have.

The Fifth said, That Vertue it self is nothing but a custom. For we have it not by nature, as Plato holds in his Menander, because of those things which we have by nature, the faculties are found in us before the actions. So the power of seeing, hearing, and speaking, is in man before these acts; but we per∣form vertuous actions before we have the habit of vertue. Moreover, these vertues are for this reason call'd moral; be∣cause they are implanted by custom; and as an Architect learns his Art by frequent building, so by constant performance of acts of justice or courage men become just or courageous. Therefore the true way to become virtuous is to be accustom'd to vertue from one's infancy; and hence Fathers are so careful to have their children well instructed, and to give them good examples. For being nothing but difficulty keeps men off from the practice of virtue; if this difficulty were remov'd by custom, which makes the hardest things easie, vertue which seems so knotty would be delightful, and pass into nature. And 'tis a token of perfect vertue when men take pleasure in exer∣cising it.

CONFERENCE LXIV.

I. Of the Imagination. II. Which is most power∣ful, Hope or Fear.

I. Of the Ima∣gination.

BEcause the knowledge of the present suffic'd not for the pre∣servation of animals, but requir'd also that of the past and the future; therefore Nature hath made provision for the same,

giving them not only five Outward Senses whereby they know their objects present (for every sensation is a sort of knowledge) but likewise a Common Sense to Distinguish those objects, an Ima∣gination to represent the same to it when they are absent, and a Memory to preserve the Species. Now as, amongst the external Senses, those are exercis'd most perfectly whose organs are best dispos'd; so, amongst the internal, those are most vigorous which are found in a brain best temper'd for their action. If its con∣stitution be humid, then the Common Sense acts most perfectly; if dry, the Memory is most tenacious; if hot, the Phancy or Imagination is strongest. But if the temper of the same Brain be cold and dry, then Prudence reigns in it, as we see in old men, and melancholy persons. For 'tis more reasonable to say, that the Organ of these faculties is the whole Brain then any one part of it. And what is brought for proof of the contrary; that oftimes one of the faculties is hurt while the rest are entire (some having a sound Memory when their Imagination is de∣prav'd) argues not that they have different seats; but as the na∣tural faculty in the whole Liver sometimes attracts but cannot retain, retains but cannot digest or separate excrements; so the animal faculty equally dispers'd through the whole sub∣stance of the Brain, sometimes judges well of the difference of ob∣jects, acknowledges conveniences and disconveniences, receives the true species, but yet cannot retain them; on the contrary, the Memory will be sometimes entire although the Imagination be disorder'd, because the constitution which is then found in the whole Brain is fit for the exercise of one of those functions, not of the other. Moreover, it happens not unusually that those faculties are wounded, although the Ventricles assign'd for their residence be not; as in the head-ach, or distemper of the Brain, and in Phrensies caus'd only by inflammation of the Meninges without any laesion of the Ventricles.

The Second said, That the Imagination is not distinct from the other faculties; but our soul resembles the Sun, which in the continuity of the same action hath different effects, not acting in the diaphanous parts of Heaven, refrigerating the mid∣dle region of the air, heating the lower, and again herein cor∣rupting some bodies, producing and giving life to others: The conservation of the species and their reception not being two different actions; but rather as the wax by one and the same action receives a figure and retains it, so the Imagination which receives the species of objects must not be distinguish'd from it self when it preserves and retains them, unless by reason or mental discrimination, whereby we call Memory it self an action, although it be but the continuation and preservation of the first.

The Third said, The effects of the Imagination are so marvel∣lous, that most of those are ascrib'd to it whereof we can find no other reason. As, the likeness of Children to their Fathers,

although they be only putatives; because the apprehension of disloyal Wives of being surpriz'd by their Husbands makes them conceive them always present: the production of most Mon∣sters, the marks imprinted upon the Child in the Womb, and the like. But that it is the Mistress of Reason and the Will, deserves most admiration. For the Soul imagining no danger, or proposing to it self a good greater then the mischief of the danger, carries the body upon the ridges of houses, upon ropes and breaches, even upon the mouths of Canons; makes some swim cross rivers asleep, who destroy and drown themselves, and are frighted where they have least cause; namely, when they awake or find themselves alone in the dark, so soon as their Phancy proposes some terrible object to them, how absurd so∣ever it be. Wherefore they who desire to encourage Souldiers heat their Brains with Wine, which keeps their imagination from representing the danger to them: or raise some extraor∣dinary boldness in them by generous discourses, whose new im∣pressions drive their bodies upon dangers. Hence the Turks disorder the imagination of their Souldiers by Opium, the effect whereof in the quantity wherein they take it is contrary to that whereby it casts sick persons into a sleep in this climate. Rea∣son never acquiesces in the propositions which our Imagination hath not apprehended as true; and therefore weak minds are less capable of relinquishing an error wherewith they have been imbu'd. Offences are not such, but so far as our phancy con∣ceives them such. For a great hurt which we have receiv'd, if an excuse follow it, offends us not; whereas an indifferent word, a coldness, a gesture which we interpret for a scorn, even a privation of action, as neglect of a salutation, makes men go to the field. Yea all the professions of the world borrow their praise or their blame from Phancy. And who is there amongst us but would account it a grievance, and make great com∣plaints, if that were impos'd upon him by command which his phancy makes him extreamly approve. The studious person rises in the night, to study; the amorous spends it in giving se∣renades; In brief, the Proverb, that saith, None are happy or unhappy but they who think themselves so, abundantly evi∣dences the power of Imagination.

The Fourth said, All Animals that have outward senses have also Imagination; which is a faculty of the sensitive soul ena∣bling them to discriminate things agreeable from the contrary: Therefore those Philosophers who deny'd this power to Worms, Flyes, and other insects, which they affirm'd to be carried to∣wards their good by chance, and not by any knowledge of it, besides their derogating from divine providence, were ignorant that the smallest animals cease not to have the same faculties as others, at least, confused, as their Organs are, which contain the more marvels in that they serve to more several uses. More∣over, Experience shews us, that they well distinguish what is fit

for them from what is not; yea they have their passions too; for choler leads the Bee to pursue the enemy that hath pillag'd its hive; their providence, or fore-cast, since both that and the Pismire lay in their provisions, and observe a kind of policy among them, the former acknowledging a King; which they could not do without the help of Imagination, although the same be not so strong in them as in perfect animals: among whom even such as have no eyes, or want the use of them, as the Mole, are much inferior to others in Imagination, which is chiefly employ'd about the Images (whence it takes its name) whereof the sight supplies a greater quantity then all the other Senses. So that every animal, being naturally lead to its own good, needs an Imagination to conceive it such; but all have not Memory, which being given only to enable animals to find their abode again which they are oblig'd to quit for some time in quest of food; those who change not their residence, as Oy∣sters, or which carry it with them, as Snails and Tortoises, have no need of it.

The Fifth said, That the Imagination is a cognition different from that of sense; for it knows that which is not, but the Sense doth not; from Science and Intelligence, because these are always true, but that is sometimes true, sometimes false. Nevertheless, 'tis not opinion; because opinion produces a be∣lief in us, which presupposes perswasion, and this is an effect of Reason whereof brutes are not possest, although all of them have, more or less, some Imagination. Its object is of so great latitude that it goes beyond that of entity; since that which is not as well as that which is, the false as well as the true, are under its jurisdiction; for it composes, divides and runs over, all nature, and what is out of nature; herein almost like the In∣tellect, which owes all its highest notions to it, since it can know nothing without the phantasmes of the Imagination, which, on the contrary, depends not any ways upon the Under∣standing in its operations.

The Sixth said, The Imagination, although very active, and carri'd in a moment from the lowest stage of the world to its highest stories, and to those spaces which it phansies above the heavens, yet cannot comprehend where it self is lodg'd. But the quality of the Brain most proper for it, is heat. For besides its great activity, whereby it is necessarily alli'd to fire, the phan∣ciful persons are most subject to burning Fevers, the cholerick excel in this faculty, of which, on the contrary, the phlegmatick are worst provided. Whence, perhaps, Poets, who owe their best Verses to the Phancy, heighten the heat of their Brain by drinking the best liquors. Moreover, 'tis the strongest of all the Souls Faculties, and involves every thing here below. It disorders and quiets Nations, making them undertake wars and desire peace; it awakens and stills our passions; and as if nature were not powerful enough to produce all things neces∣sary

to the perfection of the world, it daily frames new ideas, and makes other worlds to its curiosity. 'Tis this that blinded him of whom Pliny speaks, who having dream'd in the night that he had lost his sight, found himself blind when he wak'd; 'tis this that gave a voice to Croesus's son which nature had deny'd him; which chang'd L. Cossutius from a woman into a man; which made horns grow out of the forehead of Cippus after his dreaming of the Oxen whom he had seen fighting all the day be∣fore. In brief, 'tis this that made Gallus Vibius become foolish, by having mus'd too much upon the causes of folly. But it acts not only within both upon the body and the soul; it diffuses its power beyond its own mansion. For to it is attributed that wonder of the Tortoises and Estriches which hatch their egges by the sight; as also that of Hens, which breed Chickens ac∣cording to the colours laid neer their Nests, and sometimes of the shape of a Kite if they have been frighted by that bird whilst they were hatching. 'Tis also to the power of Imagina∣tion that what my Lord Bacon affirms is to be referr'd, namely, That it is dangerous to be beheld by our enviers in extream joy, as 'tis reported that certain Scythian women murder'd only with a single aspect; and possibly to this cause better then to any other the bleeding of a murder'd body in the murderer's presence may be imputed, as also that the most vigorous have been found cold and impotent; and other effects, the cause whereof may be better referr'd to this Imagination, and the connexion and coherence of this cause with those effects de∣monstrated.

II. Which is most power∣ful Hope or Fear.

Upon the second Point, it was said, That fear being of two sorts, one filial, mix'd with respect proper to the ingenuous; the other servile, arising only from the consideration of punish∣ment; it appears hence that fear is more effectual then hope; which is not often found but in good persons, whereas fear is found both in the wicked and the good. The Laws seem also to decide this question, there being none that encourages ver∣tue to hope for any thing, but all infuse an abhorrence of crimes by the fear of punishments. Moreover, both the Indies would not suffice the least Commonwealth, if profitable rewards were to be given to every good action perform'd in it; and honora∣ble recompences being valu'd only for their rarity, would be no longer so if they came to be common. Therefore there is but one Treasurer of the Exchequer in office, but Judges, Coun∣sellors, Archers and Serjeants innumerable. Moreover, there is always more to be fear'd then hop'd. For he who hath an estate and honour may more easily lose them by the under∣minings of the wicked and envious, who are the greatest num∣ber, then obtain new by performing as much good as he will; either because they who are able to reward him are not al∣ways well inform'd thereof, or because they want both the

means, and the will to do it. Therefore although God would have us hope for Paradise, yet he requires that we serve him in fear, and draw neer to him with trembling. So that the thing we most hope for (eternal life) mixing our hope with fear, 'tis not credible that any other thing is exempt from it: Yet there are some fears without any hope. Now the passion which acts powerfully alone is stronger then that which acts onely in the company of another.

The Second said, That if the greatness of causes is to be judg'd by that of their effects, that Passion must be strongest which leads us to the greatest attempts. And so Hope will carry it above Fear, since 'tis that which makes a Souldier run up a breach, and which hath induc'd so many illustrious men, both ancient and modern, to generous actions; whereas, Fear by its coldness chilling the spirits, and penning them within, renders them in∣capable of any action. For all our actions depending on the dispositions of the spirits, the instruments of all motions both In∣ternal and External; if these spirits be heated, active and nimble, as they are render'd by Hope, then the Mind is boldly carry'd to the most difficult actions. On the contrary, if they be cool'd and fix'd by Fear, then the soul finding her self enfeebled, can do nothing but what is mean and pusillanimous.

The Third said, To examine the power of Hope and Fear aright, we must look upon them as two Champions, who are to encounter. But Fear already shews by the paleness of its Countenance, that it wants Heart, and yields to Hope, which animates it self to the pursuite of the good it aims at, by driving away all sort of Fear, which would cause apprehension of obsta∣cles and crosses, opposing the enjoyment of that good. More∣over, Fear is contemptible, and not found but in abject spirits; whereas Hope resides in sublime souls, where it produces actions worthy of its grandeur and original, which is Heaven; towards which men naturally lift their eyes in their adversities; as Fear derives its original from below, towards which it depresses the bodies and minds of those whom it possesses: So that to compare Hope with Fear, is to put Heaven in parallel with Earth.

The Fourth said, That both these Passions belong to the Iras∣cible Appetite, both of them look to the future, and are em∣ploy'd to surmount the difficulties which are presented to the Concupiscible Appetite. Hope is the expectation of a good hard to be obtain'd, yet apprehended possible. It is found most frequently in young men, because they live onely upon the future; and 'tis the Anchor of all unfortunate persons, none of which are out of Hope of being deliver'd from their miseries. 'Tis Physick to all our evils, never abandoning the most desperately sick so long as they breathe; Yea, 'tis the refuge of all man-kind of what sex, age, or condition soever; herein the more miserable, in that being destitute of real good, there remains no more for them but imaginary and phantastick. Hence the Hebrews denote Hope

and Folly by the same word, Chesel. The truth is, as if the evils that oppress us were not numerous enough, our souls frame and phancy infinite more through Fear; which dreads as well that which is not, as that which is; being properly the Expe∣ctation of an approaching evil which gives horrour to our senses, and cannot easily be avoided. For men fear not the greatest evils, but those which are most contrary to their nature. Whence it is that they more apprehend the halter, the gallies, or infamy, then falling into vices, or losing the Grace of God. For although these be the greatest evils of the world, yet men do not acknowledge them such, but by a reflection of the Understanding. Hence also the wicked fear the wheel more then Hell; because Gods pu∣nishments of sin are accounted slow, and those of men speedy. But to judge of the strength of Hope, and Fear, by their proper essence, we must consider that Good being much less delightful to Nature then Evil is painful and sensible, (because Good onely gives a better being, Evil absolutely destroyes being) Fear, which is the expectation of this Evil, is much more powerful then Hope, which is the expectation of that Good. Which appears further by its effects, far more violent then those of Hope; for it makes the Hair stand an end, and hath sometimes turn'd it white in one night; it makes the Countenance pale, the whole body quake and tremble, the Heart beat; and not onely alters the whole habit of it, but perverts Reason, abolishes Reason and Memory, intercepts the use of Speech, and of all the Senses; so that it hath caus'd sudden death to divers persons. But Hope never gave life to any. Fear adds wings wherewith to avoid an Evil; Hope barely excites to move towards Good. In a word, Fear needs sometimes the whole strength of all the Virtues to re∣press its violence, and check its disorders.

CONFERENCE LXV.

I. Of the Intellect. II. Whether the Husband and Wife should be of the same humour.

I. Of the In∣tellect.

THe Intellect is a Faculty of the Soul, whereby we under∣stand. For of the Faculties, some are without knowledge, as the natural, common to man and inanimate bodies, and the ve∣getative, which he hath in common with plants, namely, the powers of Nutrition, Accretion, and Generation; others are with the knowledge. And these (again) are either exercis'd without the use of Reason, as the Internal and External Senses; or else stand in need of Reason, as the Intellect, and the Rational Appe∣tite, which is the Will; the former, to distinguish true from false; the latter, good from evil. Now as the Understanding acquires

its notions from the inferior powers, so it imitates their manner of perception; and as sensible perception is passion, so is intel∣lectual; and the intelligible species are receiv'd in the Intellect, after the same manner that the sensible are in the organs of the outward senses. For as their organs must be free from all the qualities whereof they are to judge; so must the Understanding which is to judge of every thing, be from all intelligible species; yea, more then the organs of the Senses. For the Crystalline humour of the Eye hath tangible qualities, the hand visible, be∣cause the former is not destinated to touch withall, nor the latter to see. But the Intellect being to understand every thing, be∣cause every thing is intelligible, must be wholly clear of all An∣ticipations; contrary to Plato's opinion, who admitting a Trans∣migration of souls, conceiv'd that entring into other bodies, they carryed with them the species of things which they had known before, but darkn'd and veil'd with the clouds and humidities of the bodies which recloth'd them; and these being dissipated by age, the species put forth themselves by little and little, as Cha∣racters engraven on wood or stone, cover'd over with wax, ap∣pear proportionably as it melts off. And therefore he term'd all our knowledge a remembrance; but although he err'd herein, yet reason'd better then Aristotle, who admitted the Metempsy∣chosis, but deny'd the Reminiscence, both which are necessary consequents one of the other.

The Second said, That the operations of the Intellect are so divine that not being able to believe the same could proceed from it self, it refers them to superiors. For it invents, dis∣poses, meditates, examines, and considers the least differences; it compounds and divides every thing, apprehends simple termes, conjoynes the subject and the attribute, affirms, denyes, suspends its judgements, and alone of all the Faculties reflects upon it self; yea, by an action wholly divine produces a word. For as in speaking a word is produc'd by the mouth, so in un∣derstanding is form'd the word of the Mind. Yet with this difference, that the former is a corporeal patible quality imprint∣ed in the Air, and not the latter; for intellection is an imma∣nent operation. Hence some have thought that all these divine actions were perform'd by God himself, whom they affirm'd to be that Agent Intellect, which irradiating the phantasmes, pro∣duces out of them the intelligible species which it presents to our Intellect. Others ascrib'd them to an Assisting Intelligence. Some to a particular genius. But as I deny not, that in superna∣tural cognitions God gives Faith, Hope, and Charity, and other supernatural gifts; in which case God may be said to be an Agent Intellect: I conceive also, that in natural and ordinary knowledge, of which alone we speak now, no concourse of God, other then universal, is to be imagin'd, whereby he pre∣serves natural causes in their being, and do's not desert them in their actions. 'This then the Understanding it self which per∣formes

what ever it thinks, surpasses its strength which it knows not sufficiently; and the Agent and Patient Intellect are but one, being distinguish'd onely by reason. As it formes that spe∣cies, 'tis call'd Agent; as it keeps and preserves them, Patient. For as the Light causes colours to be actually visible by illumi∣nating them together with the Air, with their medium, so the Agent Intellect renders all things capable of being known, by illustrating the phantasmes, separating them from the grosness of the matter, whereof they have some what when they are in the Imagination, and forming intelligible species of them. Otherwise, if these phantasmes remain'd still in their materiality, the Understanding being spiritual could know nothing; since that which is sensible and material, remaining such, cannot act upon what is spiritual and immaterial. Besides, the species of the Phancy representing to us onely the accidents of things, it was requisite that the Intellect, by its active virtue subliming and elevating those species to a more noble degree of being, should make them representative species of their own essence. Which it doth by abstraction of the individual properties of their subject from which it formes universal conceptions; which action is proper to the Intellect. This supreme Faculty being so noble that it ennobles all beings, rendring them like to it self.

The Third said, That the Intellect is to the Soul such as the Soul is to the body which it perfectionates. And as it knows all corporeal things by the senses, so it knows incorporeal by it self. This Faculty serves for a medium and link, uniting all things to their first cause; and 'tis Homer's golden chain, or Jacob's ladder which reaches from Earth to Heaven, by which the Angels, that is, the species and most spiritual notions, ascend to the heaven of man, which is his brain, to inform him, and cause the spirits to descend from thence to reduce into practice the ex∣cellent inventions of the Understanding. Now as Reason dis∣criminates men from brutes, so doth this Intellect men amongst themselves. And if we believe Trismegistus in his Pimander, God has given to all men ratiocination, but not Understanding, which he proposes for a reward to his favourites. Aristotle saith, 'tis the knowledge of indemonstrable principles and immaterial forms. Plato calls it, Truth; Philo the Jew, the chief part and torch of the Soul, the Master of the little world, as God is of the great, both the one and the other being diffus'd through the whole, without being mix'd or comprehended in any part of it.

The fourth said, That the humane is a substance wholly di∣vine and immortal, since it hath no principle of corruption in it self, being most simple, and having no contrary out of it self: Eternal, since 'tis not in time but above time: Infinite, since its nature is no-wise limited, and is every thing that it under∣stands, changing it self thereinto; not by a substantial mutation, but as the First Matter is united with the formes, remaining al∣wayes the same Matter; the wax remaining entire receives all

sort of figures: So the intellect is not really turn'd into the things which it understands, but only receives their species wherewith it is united so closely that it is therefore said to be like to them. As likewise, though it be call'd Patient when it receives them, 'tis not to be inferr'd that it is material, since these species are material, and acting upon the Intellect alter it not, but perfectionate it. Moreover, it hath this peculiarity, that the more excellent these species are, the more perfect it is render'd; whence after the highest things, it can as easily com∣prehend the less. An assured token of its incorruptibility, and difference from the senses, which are destroy'd by the excel∣lence of their objects. But as the soul being freed from the body hath nothing to do with sensitive knowledg, because then it rati∣ocinates no more, but beholds effects in their proper causes, com∣manding and obeying it self most perfectly, exempted from the importunity of the sensitive appetite: so while it is entangled in the body it receives some impressions resulting from the parts, humours and spirits destinated to its service being in some sort render'd like to them. So the soul of one born blind is igno∣rant of colours, the cholerick are subject to frowardness, and the melancholy timerous, by reason of the blackness of that humour.

The Fifth said, All actions of men depending on the temper; those of the Understanding, so long as it is entangled in the bonds of the body, are not free from it. For as that of Plants gives them the qualities proper to attract, concoct, and con∣vert their aliments, and generate their like; and beasts having a temper sutable to their nature, are lead as soon as they come in∣to the world to what is convenient for them without instructi∣on: So men are lead of their own accord to divers things, ac∣cording as their souls meet dispositions proper to certain acti∣ons; yea they are learned without ever having learn'd any thing, as appears in many phrantick and distracted persons; amongst whom some, although ignorant, have been seen to make good Verses, others to discourse learnedly of the sublimest mat∣ters, some to speak languages, and tell things to come. Which may naturally proceed from the souls being capable of it self to know every thing (the past by help of the memory, the present by all the senses, and the future by the Understanding;) and meeting with a brain whose temperature is by disease render'd proper for such actions, the same being possible to befall it by such accidents as happens by age, which changing the temper of the body, is also the cause of the diversity of actions. Therefore children cannot perform the functions of the reasonable soul, because they are of a hot and moist temper, unapt for the actions of the actions of the Understanding, as, on the contrary, very fit for the actions of the vegetative and sensitive soul. So that if men were born cold and dry, they would come into the world perfectly wise and judicious; but

because they acquire this temperature of brain only with time, therefore they are not knowing but with time.

II. Whether the Husband and Wife should be of the same humor.

Upon the second Point, it was said, That it might be hand∣led either physically or morally. If it be demanded, upon the former principles, whether the Husband and Wife should be of the same temper, 'tis answer'd, that as Nature hath distinguish'd the Sex, so she hath assign'd to either its peculiar temperament; if a woman, which should be cold and moist, be hot and dry, she is unapt for generation, as the husband also is when, being ill qualifi'd with hot and dry, he falls within the Law de Frigidis. But if it be question'd, morally, whether conformity of manners be more requisite to Matrimony then their diversity and diffe∣rence; then, since diversity of actions is necessary in a family, the office of the husband being other then that of the wife, it seems they ought to be as different in manners as they are in the temper which produces such manners, and these the incli∣nations and actions.

The Second said, Those Philosophers who held that the Male and Female were each but one part of man, which name is common to both, would have concluded for resemblance of humours and manners; for they said that either sought his other half till they found it. Which made the friendships so boasted of in pass'd ages, and so rare in this, and likewise mar∣riages, of which they that take more notice find that but few married couples have no resemblance even in their countenance. Moreover, marriages being made in heaven, and the most con∣siderable accidents of life, the same influence which makes the marriage of the husband must also make that of the wife: and if all actions here below borrow their force from the heavens, as Astrologers hold, the husband and wife having the same uni∣versal cause of so great and notable a change, whereon depends almost all the welfare and misery of either, cannot but resemble one another. And therefore those who resemble one another most will agree best with their universal cause, and consequent∣ly, the Stars will find less resistance to produce their effects upon them, and so they will live more sweetly then if by contrariety of manners they should do as the Traveller at sea, who walks in the ship contrary to its course, or who attempts to sail against wind and tyde; or rather like those that draw several ways, whereby the cord is sooner broken then any advancement made of the load; so during this contrariety of manners nothing can go forward in the management of domestick affairs. Hence the Proverb, that we must eat many a bushel of Salt with a man before we chuse him for a friend, is interpreted that by sem∣blance of food a similitude of manners with him must be ac∣quir'd: which if requisite between two friends, how much more between two married persons who ought not to have greater friends then they are one to the other; being in society

of all the goods and all the evils of this life. Imagine one of a pleasant, the other of a melancholy humour, one loving com∣pany, the other solitude; the opposition of these contrary in∣clinations will render the presence of the one as insupportable to the other, as Musick and Dancing are displeasing to a sad man, or tedious complaints for one dead are to him that is dispos'd to mirth. For by this disproportion the mind receives a check, which is very disagreeable to it. If one be young, and the other old; one handsome, the other deformed; one of an amorous complexion, and the other not; the mischiefs which follow thereupon are too common to be enumerated. If one be nim∣ble and the other slow, the actions of the one will displease the other; whereas that which pleases being or appearing good, and nothing (next our selves) being so acceptable to us as what resembles us; two persons who shall agree to do something, or not to do it, shall have peace and tranquillity of mind.

The Third said, That in Oeconomy as well as Policy, there ought to be a harmony, which consists in diversity, and not in uni∣sonance or identity, which is every where disagreeable and dull. This made Aristotle desire that the man were, at least, ten years elder then the woman, the disparity of age causing that of humours; and this makes the difference which is found be∣tween individuals, one of the greatest wonders of the world. Therefore the husband and wife ought to be unlike in their man∣ners and actions, to the end either may keep their station, the one above, the other below, one command, the other obey. Moreover, the husband and wife that always agreed would have no matter to talk of. Be the man a great talker, and the woman too, the house will be always full of noise; on the con∣trary, the silence of the one will give place to the other's talka∣tiveness, and excuse it. If both be knowing or skilful, they will not esteem one another; but if one admire the other, there will be greater love between them. If both be prodigal, they will quickly see the bottom of the bag; whereas the thriftiness of the one will make amends for the expensiveness of the other. If one be sad, the other being pleasant will divert him: if not, they will both fall into the excess either of sadness or joy. If one be prophane, the party that is devout will convert him by good example. In brief, if one be severe, 'tis good that the other be gentle; if one be passionate, that the other be patient; otherwise the house will be always in an uproar.

The Fourth said, If Justinian, or rather his Wife Theodora, had not abolish'd the laudable custom of divorcing wives, in∣troduc'd by Spurius Carrilius, to abate their pride and malice; or, at least, if the wives of these times were of the humour of those Roman women who having displeas'd their husbands ask'd them pardon in the Temple of a Goddess, call'd for that reason Viriplaca, it would not require so much care to consider the con∣ditions requisite to a happy wedlock. In which 'tis to be ob∣serv'd

that both in nature and manners there are tempers of bo∣dy, and habits of soul, absolutely good; others absolutely evil; and others indifferent, as the passions. The husband or wife whose body is of a perfect temper should seek for the like. For temperate added to temperate changeth not its tempera∣ture: Otherwise, 'tis fit that the defect of the one be amended by the excess of the other. For the production of man, being the noblest of all actions, requires a most perfect temperature of the four Elements in the seed of the two parents; which would not be, if both of them be hot and dry, or cold and moist. The vertuous must seek his like, the vicious his unlike, for there's no friendship among the wicked, the converse of Thieves not deserving that name. As for the passions, and the manners commonly following them, 'tis fit that the husband have such as nature has most commonly given to men, and, consequently, that he be unlike to the wife, and she to her husband.

CONFERENCE LXVI.

I. Of Drunkenness. II. Of Dancing.

I. Of Drunken∣ness.

THe common saying, That the more excellent a thing is the more pernicious is its abuse, is verifi'd, chiefly, in Wine, which is not only the best of all aliments, turning soonest into our substance, making fewest excrements and most spirits, with which it hath great affinity; but also the most excellent and benigne of all medicaments. For it so cheers and fortifies the heart that so long as a man is cup-shot he is never invaded by the Pestilence, the Wine being his antidote and preservative. It tempers the natural coldness of the Brain, helps digestion, be∣gets laudable blood, opens obstructions, attenuates gross hu∣mours, and gives a good habit to the whole body. But taken in excess it produces mischiefs without number; as the Palsy, Apoplexie, Epilepsie, Convulsions, Catarrhes, and such other cold Diseases; the natural heat being unable to overcome the actual coldness of the Wine in regard of its great quantity. Yet this were not much, if its disorders did not reach the soul, sub∣verting its government, and clouding its beauty, defacing the character which it bears of the Deity, and hindring those excel∣lent functions of the Intellect and the Will. So that Mnesitheus the Physitian, with good reason, term'd Wine the greatest benefit, and the greatest mischief of man. And therefore, as the Philo∣sopher counsell'd such as were apt to fall into choler, to behold themselves in a Looking-glass, for so the deformity of their aspect would avert them from that vice: so he that is subject to be overcome with Wine must, like the Lacedemonians, behold

the turpitude of this vice in others, and so abhor it; for behold it in himself he cannot, because drunkenness prohibits him the use of the Senses.

The Second said, Man being the most intemperate of all creatures has need of vertues to moderate his irregular appetites of nutrition and generation, which nature has season'd with plea∣sure, as well as the other animal actions, whereof as the mode∣rate use is agreeable to nature, so the excess is contrary to rea∣son; which not enduring those gross and material pleasures of the Touch and Taste, employs Temperance to repress the for∣mer by Chastity, and the latter by Abstinence and Sobriety; the one as the rule for the eating, and the other for drinking; both of them plac'd between two extreams; although their de∣fect be so rare that it hath not yet found a name amongst Philo∣sophers. But the excess of eating is call'd Gluttony; that of Wine, Drunkenness. Now habitual Drunkenness (Ebriosity) is never to be tolerated; but Ebriety may sometimes, for health's sake, be allow'd; yea every moneth, according to the Arabian Physitians, who maintain that it strengthens all the faculties, which a regular life renders drooping and languid. Whence also Hippocrates pronounces, in the end of his third Book of Diet, and elsewhere, that too exquisite a regiment of living is most dangerous; those that are accustom'd to it being less able to en∣dure any errors which they may occasionally commit in their course of Diet.

The Third said, Drunkenness is a Laesion of the Animal Fa∣culty, caus'd by the vapours of some alimentary liquor. For medicaments, or poysons swallow'd down, cannot be said the cause of drunkenness; none ever having conceiv'd that Socrates dy'd drunk when he had taken the potion of Hemlock, though he had all the same symptomes which a drunken person hath: nor is every Laesion of the nobler faculties▪ Drunkenness; otherwise, the Phrenetick, Vertiginous, and such as are trou∣bled with tremulation of their members, ought to be accounted drunk, their Reason, Memory, Imagination and Motion, being either deprav'd or abolish'd, like theirs who are intoxicated. But such Laesion is not caus'd by the fumes of Wine, which alone properly cause drunkenness; it deserves rather to be term'd Alienation of the Mind, which may be caus'd by other vapours either internal or external, as by the smoke of Tobac∣co, the steam of a Cellar, or any place where new Wine is boil'd, as also that of Char-coal, which kill'd the Emperour Jovinian. The Oyl of Henbane-seed, as Pliny reports, being drop'd into the ears causes the same trouble of judgement. Matslack and Opium cause the same disorder in the Turks that Darnel mingled with bread doth in our Peasants; and Baume, Frankincense, and the fruit call'd Anacardium mingled with food. Among Beasts, the Ass is inebriated with Hemlock; the Swine with Henbane or the husks of Grapes; all Fish with baits made of

Oak-bark, coque de Levant (a small medicinal shell call'd Ʋnguis odoratus) yea, Aristotle saith, that Flyes are inebriated with the smell of perfumes, which therefore they abhor so much, that the laying of some neer their resort is enough to drive them away. Now drunkenness properly taken is caus'd by the hot and moist vapours of Wine, rais'd by the natural heat into the Brain, whose temperature they destroy by their heat (which renders the motions of the soul violent) spoil its structure by re∣pletion of the Ventricles, distention of the membranes, hu∣mectation and obstruction of its Nerves. For Wine being hot and moist, and inebriating by those two qualities, 'tis therefore more uneasily born by hot or moist Brains. Hence, the cholerick, children, women, and old men, are less able to withstand its vio∣lence, and are sooner overcome with it then those whose Brain is of a middle temper, between hot and moist; who are there∣fore said to have good Brains. For which reason stout drinking hath been so much esteem'd by some Nations; and Cyrus found no better argument to evince himself worthier of command then his brother Artaxerxes, then that he was a better drinker. Moreover, Philip, Alexander, and Mithridates, counted it a glory to drink well; but Socrates, Plato, Xenocrates, and many other Sages of Antiquity, disdain'd not to carouse sometimes. And Ho∣mer speaking of the wise Hector, seldom forgets his great goblet. The Athenians had good drinking in such repute, that they establish'd Magistrates, call'd Oenoptae, to preside at feasts, and give order that every one did reason to his companion.

The Fourth said, According as heat or moisture predomi∣nate in Wine, so they imprint their footsteps upon our bodies. The signs of heat are nimbleness of action, anger, boldness, talking, ruddiness of the countenance, a pimpled Nose, Eyes twinkling and border'd about with scarlet. Those of humidity are slothfulness▪ numness and heaviness of the head, tears with∣out cause, softness and humidation of the Nerves, which makes the Drunkard reel and lispe; which effects nevertheless are dif∣ferent according to the qualities of the Wine and the Drinker's Brain. For if the streams of the Wine be hot and dry, and they be carri'd into a hot and dry Brain, or a small Head, they cause watchings, and render the man raging and furious. If they be more humid, as those of Wine temper'd with water (which is held to intoxicate more then pure Wine, because the water assisted by that vehicle stays longer in the Brain) and the Brain be moist too, they cause sleep; and laughter, when the sanguine humour meets a more temperate Wine. For which variety of the effects of Wine, the ancients represented Bacchus mounted upon a Tyger, with a Lyon, a Swine, and an Ape by his side.

The Fifth said, That to drink fasting, or when one is hot, furthers intoxication, because the passages being open'd by heat, more speedily attract the Wine, and its vapours are more

easily lift up to the brain; as also when the stomack is empty, and the fumes of the Wine are not allay'd by those of meat. But as drunkenness may be procur'd by several means, so there are others that preserve from it. Some make Wine utterly abhorr'd; as the water that distills from the Vine, the Eggs of an Owle, or Wine wherein Eels or green Froggs have been suffocated. Others repress its violence; as the Amethyst, (which derives its name from its effect) a sheep's lungs roasted, the powder of swallow's bills mingled with Myrrhe; Saffron, bitter Almonds, Worm-wood, Peach kernels, the Wine of Myrtle, Oyle, Col∣worts and Cabbage; which preservatives were more in use among the Ancients who needed them more then we; their Wines being more vaporous and hurtful then ours: Witness Homer, who speaking of the Wine which Maron, Apollo's Priest, gave Ʋlysses, saith, he could not drink of it without tempering it with twenty times as much water as the strongest of our Wines can bear.

The Sixth said, That Drunkenness, as vicious as it is, wants not its benefits. For besides, that 'tis the Anodyne wherewith all laborious people relieve their pains; it dispels cares, and loosens the Tongue. Whence Wine is call'd Lyaeus. Which made one of Philip's Souldiers say, when he was accus'd of having spoken ill of his Prince, That he should have spoken far worse of him, if he had not wanted more Wine. So that the Proverb may be more true, that Liberty (rather then Verity) is in Wine: And therefore some Lawyers advise, rather to inebriate such as are accus'd of a crime then put them to the rack; according to the example of Josephus, who by this means discover'd a conspiracy lay'd against him by a Souldier, whom he distrusted indeed, but had not proof enough to convict him.

II. Of Dancing.

Upon the Second Point it was said, That Harmony hath such power over the Soul, that it forces it to imitation. Whence those that hear an Air which they like cannot forbear to chant it soft∣ly, and sometimes it makes such impression in their Minds, that they cannot be rid of it when they would; as they experiment who fall asleep upon some pleasing song, for many times they awake repeating it. And because its powers delight not to be idle, therefore the Soul being mov'd stirs up the spirits, they the humours and the parts, constraining them to follow their bent and motion, which is call'd Dancing. This Dancing therefore is a part of Musick, which leads our members according to the cadence of the notes of a voice or instrument. It imitates the manners, passions, and actions of men; and consequently, is of different species. But their principal division was anciently taken from their place and use. For either it was private, and serv'd at marriages; or Theatral, which again was of three sorts; the the first grave and serious, practis'd in Tragedies; the other more free, in Comedies; and the third lascivious and dishonest, f••••

Satyrs. The other differences relate to the Countries where they were in request, as the Ionick; to their Authors, as the Pyrrick, invented by Pyrrhus the Son of Achilles, or by Pyrrichius the Lacedaemonian, to their subject; to the instrument whose eadence they follow; to what they imitate, as that which was call'd the Crane; lastly, to the habits and other things which were worne in dancing. The most ancient, as the easiest of all, was that which took its name from a net, whereto it resembles, which is our dance in round; of which Thesius is made the Au∣thor, as well as of that in which the dancers intermix and pass under one anothers arms, imitating by these turnings and wind∣ings those of the Labyrinth. But the Theatral, which the Mimes and Pantomimes represented in the Orchesters, were like those of our ballads, and express'd all gestures so well, that a King of Pontus lik'd nothing so much in Rome as one of these Mimes which he obtain'd of Nero to serve him for an interpreter to Ambassadors. For gestures have this above voices, that they are understood by all Nations, because they are the lively and natural images of things and actions; whereas the voice and writing are but signes by institution. And hence Dancing is very dangerous when it imitates dishonest things; for it makes the strongest impression upon the Mind.

The Second said▪ That the God of Wine, sirnamed by the Ancients Chorius, which signifies Dancer; argues the mutual rela∣tion of dancing and Wine. It hath alwayes been in so great esteem amongst warlike people, that the Lacedaemonians and Thebans went to charge their Enemies with the musick of Flutes and Hoboys; and the former had a solemn day in which the old, the young, the middle-ag'd, danc'd in three companies, with this Ditty, We have been, we are, and we shall be brave fellows. The Athenians went so far as to honour Andronicus Caristius an excellent dancer with a statue, and to choose Phrynicus their King for having gracefully danc'd the Pyrrhick measures, which Scaliger boasts he had often danc'd before the Emperor Maximi∣lian. Moreover, the Romans committed the charge thereof to their most sacred Pontifs, whom they call'd Salij, that is, Leapers. Lucian, in the Treatise which he writ of it, ascribes the original of dancing to Heaven, since not onely all the celestial bodies, but also the ocean, the hearts of living creatures, and other sublunary bodies imitate them, following the course of the first mover. And indeed, as if dancing had something of di∣vine, it hath alwayes been employ'd in Sacrifices and the holiest mysteries of Religion, not onely by the Delians, who accom∣pany'd all their prayers with dancing; and the Indians who ador'd the Sun by dancing and imitating the course of that lumi∣nary; but also by the Prophet David before the Ark, and by Saul, who being full of the Spirit of God fell to dancing with the Children of the Prophets; as also did Miriam the sister of Moses, Judith when she had kill'd Holofernes, and infinite others,

in testimony of their thanksgiving to God. The Muses them∣selves are painted by the Poets dancing about their fountain upon Mount Helicon; Apollo is call'd dancer by Pindar; and the Graces are represented dancing. Proteus, so celebrated by the Poets, became famous onely by this Art, and which he so excell'd, that his nimble in strange postures gave occasion to the fable of turning himself into all kind of shapes, because some∣times he counterfeited the fluidity of the water, sometimes the lightness of fire, the bending of trees, the rage of the Leopard, the cruelty of the Lyon; and in brief, the nature of every sort of things.

The Third said, That Dancing is compos'd of three parts, Motion, Gesture, and Indication. For there is first a stirring up and down, then a representing things by the Gestures of the Body, chiefly by the Hand; which Art is call'd Chironomy; and those which are expert in it, Chirosophers, that is, wise by the Hands. Hence Dancing is defin'd a motion of the Body, accord∣ing to rule and number, imitating by gesture things or persons, either with singing or without. As Motion 'tis very delightful to Nature, which is as much pleas'd therein, as rest is disagree∣able to it. Nor is it less so as it includes an harmonious propor∣tion of measure, having this correspondence with Musick, Poetry, Eloquence, Painting, Comedy, and all other Arts, whose end is the delight of man. But as it is an imitation it delights mar∣vellously, we loving nothing so much as to imitate, or to see some thing imitated. Hence works of Art please us more then those of Nature; because Art doth nothing but imitate her. Be∣sides its delightfulness, 'tis also profitable and honest. Its use∣fulness is sufficiently known to Physitians, who make it a part of their Gymnastick Physick, which treats of the exercises and motions prescrib'd in order to health, and is divided into Pale∣strical and Saltatory. Moreover, Galen affirms, that he cur'd many Patients by appointing them to dance, which is an exer∣cise of all parts of the body; whereas walking exercises onely the legs; riding, the intestines; bowling, the reins; going by ship, the stomack and brain. 'Tis also very honest or decorous, since it formes and fashions the body, giving it a good grace, one of the principal points of handsomeness. For the Soul having the Sciences to instruct the Understanding, and the Moral Vir∣tues to rectifie the Will; the body, its dear partner, needs some habit to regulate its defects, the rather because they have influ∣ence upon the Soul; it being very difficult for the motions of the Soul to be regular so long as those of the body are not. There∣fore Plato, in the seventh book of his Laws, requires that the in∣structers of youth have equally care of the body and the soul, and for this purpose teach them Musick to regulate the motions of the Soul, and dancing to frame those of the body, and give it gracefulness, as wrastling gives it strength.

CONFERENCE LXVII.

I. Of Death. II. Of the Will.

I. Of Death.

AS Being is the first and greatest good, because the foundation of all other goods, so (speaking absolutely upon a natural account) the first and greatest of all evils is the privation of that Being, which is Death; so terrible, that not onely brutes abhor the sight of their dead fellows, through fear of the same death of which they behold an image of their carcases; but men likewise, although their name of Mortals be a token of the ne∣cessity of their dying, yet use all the vain attempts they can to avoid that death which they fear as the most terrible of terrble things. Yea, all their great and violent actions and passions, take their source from this fear; which is so much greater as the evil is phancy'd nearer: Whence old or sick persons have more apprehension of it then then those that are young and in health. The vulgar commonly labours onely through fear of starving. A man that is decrepit, yet, is willing to part with a limb if he may by the loss respite his death, apprehended so terrible by some, that the fear of it has kill'd some criminals before executi∣on, and carry'd others to such madness as to kill themselves for fear of dying. Nevertheless, he that shall consider Death more nearly, will find that, being but a privation, it is nothing; and that what we fear so much is onely the way to this death, or the sequel of it; the former, in respect of irrational animals, and both in reference to man, who apprehends in the other life the judgement of the actions of this. Otherwise, Death being onely a poynt and a moment, which hath neither quantity nor extent, but approaches to Nothing, hath therefore nothing in it self for which it ought to be feared. For so long as the Ani∣mal hath sense it is not dead; and so soon as 'tis dead, it hath no more. And because 'tis a motion and passage from Being to not Being, between which two there is no medium or middle; therefore 'tis a pure nothing, and consequently, hath no foun∣dation saving in the troubled Phancy: Since upon due perpen∣sion of things, that which is not is no-wise to be fear'd, by those that are insensible, yea, that exist no more.

The Second said, That to maintain Death to be nothing, is to accuse not onely all men of folly in fearing what exists not, and consequently, is not capable of producing any effects or passions; but likewise, Nature of imprudence, in having imprinted this ap∣prehension in all creatures for their preservation. As therefore Reason and Experience teach us that there are substantial gene∣rations; so the same shew us the true and substantial corruptions of all compounds; which corruption, in a thing endu'd with life, is call'd Death, which is the separation of the Soul from

the Body. For the Platonists are ridiculous when they make two kinds of this separation, namely, that of the Soul from the Body, which they call Extasie, and that of the Body from the Soul, which alone they say is to be call'd Death: For they are both one and the same thing; and Extasie is not a separation of essence, but of power, hapning when the Soul is so glu'd to an ob∣ject, in the contemplation whereof it employes all its powers, that there remains none for corporeal functions; the Eyes not per∣ceiving what is then presented to them. Whence the Soul being more where it loves then where it lives, is also more where it understands. Now Death is either natural or violent. The former caus'd by the consumption of the radical moisture of plants and animals. For they alone are capable of dying, as they are of living; what they attribute to Fire, the Load-stone, and some other inanimates, being purely Metaphorical. Vio∣lent death is produc'd either by internal causes, as diseases, or by external. 'Tis caus'd by destroying the harmony of the parts and humours, which constituted life; after which destruction, the Soul not finding the organs longer meet for exercising its functions, (as Fire that wants unctuous and combustible humidity) forsakes its matter to retire into its own sphere. And though the corruption of one be the generation of another, there being no matter but hath alwayes some form, as Bees are generated out of dead Oxen; yet there is this distinction, that the progress of a form less noble to one that is more, is call'd generation or life, as when an Egg is made a chick; but when this progress is made from a more noble form to a less, as from a man to a carcase, then 'tis call'd Corruption and Death, if the form preceding were vital. Thus all are wayes of Death which lead to corruption. The first of these wayes is life, for nothing comes under its Laws but is subject to those of Death, considering the wayes that we dye as we are borne, and that our end depends on our original; as there is no harmony but must end in discord, the latter note not being capable to accord with the first rest, which is the end or death of harmony; whereunto our life is not onely compar'd, but may be fitly defin'd by it, that Galen, enlightned by Reason alone, conceiv'd the Soul to be nothing else.

The Third said, That onely in the death of men there is a sepa∣ration of the Soul from the Body; seeing that after the death of animals and plants there still remain faculties in their bodies which cannot depend on the sole mistion of the Elements, but must be referr'd to some internal principle, which can be no other then their Soul. Yet with this difference, that as during life these faculties were as formes in their matter, so after death they are as substances in their place, though without any activity, for want of necessary dispositions; which return afterwards by generation, or the action of the celestial bodies, producing wormes and other animals, which come of themselves, and never but from a nature formerly animated, not receiving by this new

generation any substantial form, but onely making the Soul ap∣pear; which was kept as 'twere buried before this resuscitation. Thus the death of plants and beasts is the privation of their ve∣getative and sensitive actions, the principle of those actions al∣wayes remaining, But that of men, besides this privation of their actions, causes the dissolution of the Soul from the Body, which is properly death. The inevitable necessity whereof is by Avicenna deriv'd from four chief causes I. From the Air, which alters and dryes us. II. From our own heat, which by accident destroyes it self. III. The continual motion of our bodies furthers the dissipation of that heat. IV. The va∣rious Inclination of the Elements, some of which are carry'd upwards, others downwards, and so break the union which preserves our life. Albert the Great assignes a fifth cause, namely, the contrariety of forms and qualities; death happening when humidity hath given place to drynesse. But because this excesse of drynesse might be corrected by its contrary, therefore the Moderns lay the fault upon the radical moisture. Which some of them say we receive from our Parents, and is continually impair'd, without being at all recruited from the birth. But this is absurd; for then the Son must have infinitely lesse then his Father, because he receives but a very small portion, which (besides) cannot be distributed through a great body, nor afford supply to so many actions. Others, more probably, affirm, that the Humidum which is repair'd is not of the same purity with that which we derive from the principles of our birth, by reason of reaction, and its being continually alter'd by our heat. But that which indubitates this reason, is, that the Elements do not maintain themselves but by reaction, notwithstanding which they cease not to be alwayes in the same state; Fire as hot, Air as moist as ever it was: Inasmuch as the substantial forms expell all Qualities which are not suitable to themselves, and recover their natural ones, without other assistance. Moreover, when old men beget children, they communicate to them an excellent radical humidity, otherwise there would be no generation; and consequently, they can do as well for themselves as for their posterity. But if they give them such as is bad and corrupt, it follows that their children who live after their death re-produce much better by their nutrition then that which they had re∣ceiv'd; and, consequently, the radical humidity may not onely be repair'd, but meliorated. And there's no reason why an exact course of dyet may not keep a man from dying, as the Chymists promise. I had therefore rather say that as the union of the Soul with the Body is unknown to humane wit, so is their dis∣union; which I ascribe rather to the pleasure of the supreme Ruler, who causes us to abide sentinel as long as he thinks meet, then to any natural thing; which is the reason why those that deprive themselves of life are justly punish'd; because they dis∣pose of what is not their own, although it seemes to the vulgar

that they do wrong to none but themselves, because 'tis by their own will and act.

The Fourth said, What is compos'd of contraries, between which there is continual action, necessarily receives sundry changes and alterations in its being, which by degrees bring it to a total corruption. This is conspicuously seen in the life of man, the ages and all other mutations whereof are as so many steps towards death. 'Tis the most worthy employment of a man to consider that he dyes every day. For, as Seneca saith, that which deceives us is, that we consider death as afar off; whereas a great part of it is already pass'd, for it already pos∣sesses all the time that we have been; which is the cause, that instead of employing our time profitably, we consume a great part of it in doing nothing, a greater part in doing ill, and all in doing other things then ought to be; which proceeds from not thinking often enough upon death; as which no Preacher is so powerful. For the fear it imprints in the soul vertue it self cannot wholly eradicate; the sole aspect of the shades of the dead, or their voices imprinting paleness upon the counte∣nance of the most resolute. Therefore the Philosopher holds that the fear of death is not only competible with courage, but that he who fears it not at all, rather deserves the name of mad then valiant.

The Fifth said, That they who have had recourse to death to deliver themselves from their miseries, as Brutus, Cato, his daughter Portia, and some others, have shew'd thereby that death is not the most terrible thing, since they embrac'd it as a remedy to their misfortunes. But that which renders our expe∣rience as well as our reasoning weak in this matter, is, that none can give account of it either before or after trial; for while we live, it is not yet, and when it is, we are no longer. Never∣theless Plato, in his Timaeus, affirms that violent death caus'd by diseases or wounds is painful, but not that which comes of old age, which (he saith happens by dissolution of the triangles which retain the Soul in the Body. For the former being against nature is as troublesome to it, as the other which following the course of nature is agreeable to it; because the soul having fi∣nish'd its task begins now to resent some foretastes of beatitude; and hence it begins also to have some knowledge of future things. At least, this sort of death is very little sensible, being caus'd slowly and equally, and by consequence without pain. Yea, if it be true that the Heart is the last part that dyes, the brain losing sense before the Heart cannot communicate the same to the whole body; which consequently feels not the pains of death, but those which lead to it, and which make their pangs more felt by those that bear up against them; by reason of the resistance of their strength, then when the strength is overcome and fails; whence those that have Apoplexies en∣dure no pain during the course of their malady. And such as

have been taken down half dead from the Gallows, agree that they endur'd nothing but fear. For which cause this kind of death is accounted very easie and without any sense; the brain being depriv'd thereof by compression of the Carotides, Arteries which carry the spirits to it, and become apoplectical by the quantity of blood which is included in it; as also the heart being stifl'd falls into deliquium, and the principal parts are depriv'd of sense by the constriction of the Nerves of the sixth pair. Those whom a Gangrene in the leg or arm (parts more sensible then those within) brings to their end, affirm that oftentimes death comes upon them without pain. Indeed, since life ends as it begins, and the soul goes out of the body after the same manner that it enter'd into it; therefore as, at its entrance, it first exercises the vegetative operations, afterwards the sensi∣tive; so the vegetative faculty remains last, subsists in the dying creature when all the rest are extinct, and is lost without sense, in the same manner as in Plants. For the convulsive motions of dying persons argue not their having of sense, since those that are in an Epileptical fit suffer much greater without pain.

II. Of the Will.

Upon the second Point, it was said, That every created thing having a tendency towards its chief natural good, hath also fa∣culties whereby to attain the same. This chief good is the su∣pream perfection of its being. And because that of man consists in knowing truth, loving good, and being united by enjoy∣ment to both the one and the other, he hath been likewise fur∣nish'd with powers for this end; two, wherewith to know, and as many to love, according to the two sorts of goods whereof he is capable, as compos'd of a sensitive part and an intellectual. He knows sensible good by help of the Senses, which gust the same in its whole latitude, and honest good by the Understand∣ing. He loves sensible good by the sensitive appetite, and ho∣nest good by the Will, which is a rational desire of good. For it loves not any good which hath not first been judg'd such by reason, which serves it in stead of eyes, being a blind faculty of it self, that is, without knowledge; whence they say, knowing must go before loving. And 'tis not necessary that this good be truly such of its own nature; if it be apprehended as such, this is sufficient to render it the object of our will. Nevertheless be∣ing good but in appearance it only takes the will for a while, but do's not satiate it as honest good doth, towards which we have a natural inclination. Whence it is that such as have de∣viated from it, as soon as their understanding is rectifi'd, resent an inward grief thereupon, which is that dictate of Reason call'd Synteresis.

The Second said, That the Will is the mistress of all the ani∣mal powers, which it causes to operate and forbear as it pleases; exercising its dominion too over the Understanding, which it commands to take notice of, and contemplate, one object rather

then another. Nevertheless as the pores subject to it are disser∣ent, so is the empire distinct which it exercises over them. For that which it hath over the loco-motive faculty is a despotical empire, such as a Master hath over his servant; that which it hath over the sensitive appetite and other faculties, is Political, like that of a Magistrate over his fellow Citizens, who obey him so, that yet they forbear not to do many things without him and even against his will. The motions of the sensitive ap∣petite being herein like those of the Celestial Spheres, which follow that of their superior Sphere, and nevertheless have a contrary one of their own. And this Appetite is carri'd not on∣ly to its particular object without the command of the Will; but also towards things wholly contrary to it; and this, for pu∣nishment of the sin whereby the will rebelling against God de∣serv'd that the appetite, at first subject to it, should become rebel∣lious to it, destroying the agreeable harmony which appear'd in the state of innocence. Which contrariety is the greater, in as much as the object of the will is honest, which is commonly dif∣ficult; and that of the sensitive appetite delectable: which two being opposite draw it several ways; and hence arise the conflicts of the flesh against the spirit, yea the same man at the same time, and for the same thing, feels contrary motions in himself; a cer∣tain evidence of their real difference.

The Third said, 'Tis the Will alone that makes us happy or unhappy, since it makes us good or bad; and nothing is such unless it be voluntary and free. Hence it hath so great a power that it alone over-rules the Stars which govern all; being capa∣ble of having inclinations contrary to theirs. It is known, as other faculties are, by its actions, which are either extrinsecal, as commanding the animal faculties, or within it self, as willing or not willing, pursuing or aversion, joying or grieving. For the property of man being to know his end as such, if this end be good, he wills it; if evil, he wills it not; if absent, he pur∣sues it; if present, he enjoys it: if the evil be absent, he averts from it; if present, he is afflicted by it. But before the will attain this end, it proposes, consults, and deliberates of the means to arrive thereunto, which it compares together in order to find which is most expedient, and is carri'd to the same with perfect freedom.

CONFERENCE LXVIII.

I. Of the Magnetical Cure of Diseases. II. Of Anger.

I. Of the Mag∣netical cure of Diseases.

'TIs requisite to agree upon the Facts before inquiry into Right. Now many Authors report that wounds have been cur'd by the sole application of a certain Unguent (which for this reason they call Armarium) to the instrument or offen∣sive weapon that made it. And Goclenius, a German Physitian, affirms that he saw a Swedish Lady cure one of her servants so, that had been hurt by a blow with a knife by his companion; and that this cure is very common, having been practis'd in presence of the Emperour Maximilian. Yea, that 'tis ordi∣nary for the Peasants of his Country to cure hurts in their feet, by sticking the nails or thorns which made them in Lard or Ba∣con. Many Farriers cure prick'd horses by digging up as much ground as their foot cover'd. Behold the ordinary compositi∣on of the aforesaid Oyntment. Take an ounce of the unctuous matter that sticks on the inside of the Scull of one hang'd and left in the air; let it be gather'd when the Moon encreases, and is in the Sign either of Pisces, Taurus or Libra, and as neer as may be to Venus, of Mummie and man's blood yet warm, of each as much; of man's fat, two ounces; of Lin-seed-oyl, Turpen∣tine, and Bole Armenick, of each two drams; mingle altoge∣ther in a Morter, and keep the mixture in a long-neck'd glass well stop'd. It must be made while the Sun is in the Sign Livra; and the Weapon must be anointed with it, beginning from that part which did the mischief; from the point to the hilt, if it be a thrust; and from the edge, if it be a cut or blow. Every morn∣ing the Patient must wash his hurt with his own Urine, or else with warm water, wiping away the pus which would hinder unition. The weapon must be swath'd (as the wound uses to be) and kept in a temperate place. For otherwise, they say, the Pa∣tient will feel pain. If you would hasten the cure, the weapon must be dress'd often; and if you doubt of the part which did the mischief, it must be dip'd all over in unguent. If the hurt be small, 'twill be enough to dress the weapon every other day; washing the hurt every morning and evening. But this is not to be practis'd in wounds of the Arteries, Heart, Liver and Brain; because it would be to no purpose. Now by the nature of the ingredients and their conformity with us, their effect seems to be natural, and grounded upon the sympathy that there is between the blood issu'd from the wound and remaining on the weapon, and that which is left in the wounded body, so that the one communicates to the other what good or evil it re∣ceives,

although it be separated from the whole. As they af∣firm that those whose leg or arm is cut off, endure great pains when those parts that were lop'd off corrupt in the earth. Which happens not, if they be carefully embalm'd. So the Bee, the Viper, and the Scorpion, heal the hurts made by them∣selves. Of which no other reason is alledg'd, but this corre∣spondence and similitude of the parts to their whole; the bond of which is very strong, although to us invisible.

The Second said, There's no need of recurring to these super∣stitious remedies, since Nature of her own accord heals wounds, provided they be not in the noble parts, and be kept clean from the impurities generated in them through their weakness, which hinder unition; which is an effect of the natural Balsam of the blood; and therefore not to be attributed to those Chimerical inventions, which have no affinity with the cure whereunto they are intitl'd. For every natural agent is determin'd to a certain sphere of activity, beyond which it cannot act; so the fire burns what it touches, heats what approaches it, but acts not at any remote distance whatever. Moreover, time and place would in vain be accounted inseparable accidents from na∣tural motions, if this device held good; considering that con∣tact is requisite to every natural action, which is either Mathe∣matical, when surfaces and extremities are together; or Phy∣sical, when the agents touch the Patients by some vertue that proceeds from them. Neither of which can be, unless the body which heals touches that which is heal'd. For all Medicinal ef∣fects being to be referr'd to Elementary qualities, there is none of them more active then heat; which being circumscrib'd within its bounds, even in the aliment of fire, can be no less elsewhere.

The Third said, That the doctrine of the common Philoso∣phy which teacheth that natural agents always touch one the other is erroneous, or else ill explain'd and dependent upon other false principles which attribute all actions to elementary qualities, which are taken for univocal causes, whereas them∣selves are but equivocal effects of other supream causes, the first of which is Heaven. For when God created the world imme∣diately with his own hands, he was pleas'd to commit the con∣duct of natural causes to the Heavens, that he might not be ob∣lig'd to make every day new miracles, as were those of the Cre∣ation. For this end he fill'd them with spirits sufficient to in∣form all sorts of matters, whose mixture requir'd some new form and change. This made the Philosopher say, that the Sun and Man beget Man; and Hermes, in his Smaragdine Table, that the things which are below are as those which are on high. And the Astrologers hold that there is nothing here below but hath some proper and peculiar Star, some of which appear, but far more appear not in the Heavens, in regard of their dispro∣portion to our sight, or their neer conjunction as in the milky

way. But if the respective correspondencies of all the Celestial Bodies be not so clearly evident in other sublunary bodies as that of the Pole-star is with the Load-stone, of dew with the Sun, of this and the Moon with the Heliotrope and Selenotrope, yet are they no less true. 'Tis credible therefore that the Wea∣pon-salve hath such sympathy with the Constellation which is to make the cure of the wound, that by its magnetick vertue it at∣tracts its influence from Heaven, and reunites it (as a Burning∣glass doth the Sun-beams at as great distance) by which means it is deriv'd to the instrument that made the wound, communica∣ting its healing vertue to the same, as the Sun likewise commu∣nicates his heat to the earth, which heats us afterwards: and thus this instrument being indu'd with a sanative vertue com∣municates the same to the wound made by it; the cure of which, besides the form and connexion of the instrumental cause with the effect, is further'd by Nature, (which always tends to pre∣serve it self) and the imagination of the wounded person (which induces Hippocrates to require that the Patient have hope and confidence in his Physitian) for this (as its contrary ruines many by dejecting their strength) doth miracles towards a recovery. The contact above spoken of hath no difficulty, nor yet the ob∣jection why other wounded persons residing in some intermedi∣ate place between the anointed Instrument and the Patient are not rather cur'd then he; considering that the same thing is ob∣serv'd in the Load-stone, which draws not the wood or stone laid neer it, but the Iron beyond them; and the Sun heats not the Sphere of the Moon, and the other Heavens, nor yet the two higher Regions of the air, but only ours cross that vast interval of cold and humid air; because he finds no congruency there∣unto, besides the not reflexion of his beams. Wherefore the contact of the anointed Javelin and the Wound may as well be call'd Physical as that of the Sun and us, which never stirs from his Sphere. Besides that we have examples of many contacts made without manifest mediums, as those of pestilential and contagious Fevers, of blear'd-eyes, of the Wolfes aspect causing hoarsness, and the killing looks of the Basilisk. And indeed if you take away all cures that are wrought by occult and inex∣plicable means, there will be nothing admirable in Physick.

The Fourth said, That in assigning the reason of effects, men ordinarily mistake that for a cause which is not so. The Rose is not cold because it is white, for the Red-rose is so too: Spurge is not hot because it hath a milky juice, for so have Lettice, Eu∣dive, &c. which are cold: Aloes is not hot because it is bitter, for Opium, which kills through its coldness, is of the same taste. They also erroneously attribute the cure of diseases to sympa∣thy, to the power of characters, words, images, numbers, ce∣lestial figures, and such other things which have no activity at all: and most extraordinary cures are effects of the strength of the Mind, which is such that where it believes any thing firmly,

it operates what it believes, and that with efficacy, provided, the subject on which it acts do not repugne. But if it comes to have a firm belief of the effect, then it follows far more easily. For if the understanding is identifi'd with what it knows, why shall it not make things like to it self? To which firm belief I re∣fer the magnetick cure of wounds, and not to that sympathy of the blood on the weapon with that in the veins; since if two parts of the same body be wounded, the healing of the one will not suffice to the healing of the other; and yet there's more sympathy between the parts of the same body animated with the same form then they have with a little extravasated blood which hath lost all the dispositions that it had like the whole mass.

II. Of Anger.

Upon the second Point, it was said, That Nature has so pro∣vided for the contentment of animals that she has given them not only an appetite, to pursue good and avoid evil, when both may be done without difficulty; but also a different one, to give courage to the former, and to surmount the difficulties occurring in the pursuite of that good, and the eschewance of that evil, term'd the Irascible appetite, from anger the strongest of its passions; which serves to check the pungency of grief, as fear and boldness come to the assistance of flight, and desire is guarded with hope and despair. This is the opinion of Plato, who makes three sorts of souls; one which reasons, another which covets, and the third which is displeas'd; the former of which he places in the Brain, the second in the Liver, and the last in the Heart. Anger then is a passion of the Irascible Appetite caus'd by the apprehension of a present evil which may be repell'd, but with some difficulty. Its principle is the soul; its instrument the spirits; its matter the blood; its seat the heart, not the will, as Cardan erroneously conceiv'd; for the actions of the will, not being organical, make no impressions or footsteps upon the body. It proceeds either from a temper of body hot and dry, and easie to be inflam'd, or from the diversity of sea∣sons, times, ages and sexes. Hence the cholerick and young persons are more inclin'd to it then the phlegmatick and aged; because they have a temper more proper to this passion: Wo∣men and children are easily displeas'd through weakness of spi∣rit; as 'tis a sign of a sublime spirit not to be troubled at any thing, but to believe that as every thing is below it self, so no∣thing is capable to hurt it. Which reason Aristotle made use of to appease the choler of Alexander, telling him that he ought never to be incens'd against his inferiors, but only against his equals or superiors; and there being none that could equal, much less surpass him, he had no cause to fall into anger.

The Second said, That the Faculties extending to contraries, the eye beholding both white and black, and the ear hearing all sort, of sounds, only the sensitive appetite is carri'd both to

good and evil, whether accompani'd with difficulties or not, as the will alone is carri'd towards all kind of good and evil. And as the same gravity inclines the stone towards its centre, and makes it divide the air and water which hinder it from arriving thither, so the sensitive appetite by one and the same action is carri'd to good, flees evil, and rises against the difficulties oc∣curring in either. Thus anger and grief are in one sole appe∣tite; yea anger is nothing but grief for an evil which may be re∣pell'd. For it hath no place when the offender is so potent that there is no hope of revenge upon him; although 'tis rare that a man esteems so low of himself as not to be able to get reason for a wrong done him, or apprehended to be done him; this passion, as all others, being excited by causes purely imaginary. Thus a single gesture, interpreted a contempt, offends more then a thrust with a sword by inadvertency. And this the more if the contemners be our inferiors, or oblig'd to respect us upon other accounts. Which makes the enmities between relations or friends irreconcileable. For as a good not foreseen rejoyces more, so the injury of a friend displeases us far above one done us by our enemies, against whom he seem'd to have some rea∣son who implor'd not so often the aid of Heaven, (because he said Nature taught him to beware of them) as against his friends, because he did not distrust them.

The Third said, Anger may be consider'd two ways, either according to its matter, or its form. In the former way 'tis de∣fin'd an Ebullition of the blood about the Heart. In the latter, a desire, with grief, to be reveng'd for an injury done to him∣self, or his friends, whom a man is oblig'd to uphold; especially if they be too weak to avenge themselves. Injury consists ei∣ther in deeds, or words, or gestures. The first is the most evi∣dent, and oftimes least sensible; for words offend more; be∣cause, being the image of thoughts, they shew us the little esteem made of us. And as gesture is more expressive then words, so á contempt signifi'd by it touches more to the quick then any other; because he that contemns us with a simple gesture ac∣counts us unworthy of all the rest. Now if this contempt be offer'd in the presence of those that honour us, or by whom we desire to be valu'd and admir'd, it excites our choler the more if it be truth, which always displeases us when it tells our de∣fects, especially by the mouth of our enemy. But none are so soon provok'd as they that are desirous of some good. For then the least things incense; because desire being of an absent good cannot subsist with the least present evil (the object of anger) because of their contrariety, importuning the actions of the soul, which is troubled in the pursute of good by the pre∣sence of evil. Whence, saith Aristotle, there needs but a small matter to anger Lovers, sick people, indigent, those that mis∣carry in their affairs, and are excruciated with hunger or thirst. 'Tis therefore an error to say, that choler is the cause of anger,

and 'tis vain to purge this humour in order to remedy this passion, since the cause is external, not internal; and is form'd first in the brain by the imagination of an injury receiv'd; after which the Soul, desirous of revenge, stirs the motive power; this the blood and spirits, which cause all the disorders observ'd in angry persons.

The Fourth said, That disorders caus'd by Anger are not to be wonder'd at, since 'tis compos'd of the most unruly passions, love, hatred, grief, pleasure, hope and boldnesse. For the source of anger is self-love; we hate him that doth the injury, we are troubled at the offence, and receive contentment in the hope of being reveng'd; and this hope gives boldnesse. Now Anger is one of the most deform'd and monstrous passions, so violent that it enervates not onely the contractive motion of the Heart by dilating it too much, and sending forth the blood and spirits, (which cause an extraordinary heat, and force in all the members, and sometimes a Fever;) but also that of dilation by shutting it too much, in case the grief for the evil present be great, and there be hopes of revenging it. The Countenance looks pale, afterwards red, the Eye sparkles, the Voice trembles, the Pulse beats with violence, the Hair becomes stiff, the Mouth foams, the Teeth clash, the Hand cannot hold, the Mind is no longer in its own power, but is besides it self for some time; Anger not differing from Rage but in duration. Which made a Philosopher tell his servant, That he would chastise him were he not in Anger: And the Emperor Theodosius commanded his Officers never to execute any, by his command, till after three dayes; and the Philosophers Xenodorus to counsel Augustus, not to execute any thing when he found himself in choler, till after he had repeated softly the twenty four letters of the Greek Alphabet. The truth is, if this passion be not repress'd, it transports a man so out of himself, that he is incens'd not against men onely, but even against beasts, plants, and inanimate things; such was Ctesiphon, who in great fury fell to kicking with a mule; and Xerxes, who scourg'd the Sea. Yea, it reduces men to such brutality, that they fear not to lose themselves for ever, so they may but be reveng'd of those that have offended them; as Por∣phyrie and Tertullian did, the former renouncing Christianity, and the other embracing Montanus's Heresie, to revenge them∣selves of some wrong which they conceiv'd they had receiv'd from the Catholicks. And our damnable Duels, caus'd by this passion, have oftentimes to satisfie the revenge of one, destroy'd two, Body and Soul.

CONFERENCE LXIX.

I. Of Life. II. Of Fasting.

I. Of Life.

THe more common a thing is, the more difficult it is to speak well of it; witnesse sensible objects, the nature whereof is much in the dark to us, although they alwayes pre∣sent themselves to our senses. Thus nothing is more easie then to discern what is alive from what is not; and yet nothing is more difficult then to explicate the nature of Life well, because 'tis the union of a most perfect form with its matter, into which the mind of man sees not a jot; even that of accidents with their subject being unknown, although it be not so difficult to conceive as the first. Some have thought that the form which gives life is not substantial but onely accidental, because all (except the rational) arise from the Elementary Qualities, and accidents can produce nothing but accidents. But they are mistaken, since whereas nothing acts beyond its strength, if those forms were accidents, they could not be the causes of such marvellous and different effects, as to make the fruits of the Vine, Fig∣tree, &c. and blood in Animals; to attract, retain, concoct, ex∣pell, and exercise all the functions of the Soul; which cannot proceed from heat alone, or any other material quality. Be∣sides, if the forms of animated bodies were accidents, it will follow that substance (which is compounded of Form as well as of Matter) is made of accidents; and consequently, of that which is not substance, contrary to the receiv'd Axiom. There∣fore Vital Forms are substances, though incomplete, whose ori∣ginal is Heaven, the Author of Life and all sublunary actions.

The Second said, That the Soul being the principle of Life; according to the three sorts of Souls, there are three sorts of Life, namely, the Vegetative, Sensitive, and Rational; differing ac∣cording to several sublimations of the matter. For the actions of attracting and assimilating food, and the others belonging to Plants, being above those of stones and other inanimate things, argue in them a principle of those actions, which is the Vege∣tative Soul. Those of moving, perceiving, imagining, and re∣membring, yet nobler then the former, flow from the Sensitive Soul. But because the actions of the Intellect and the Will are not onely above the matter, but are not so much as in the mat∣ter, (as those of Plants and Animals) being immanent, and pre∣serv'd by the same powers that produc'd them, they acknow∣ledge for their principle a form more noble then the rest, which is the Rational Soul, the life of which is more perfect. And as the Plantal Life is the first and commonest, so it gives the most infallible vital tokens, which are nutrition, growth, and generation. Now that all three be in all living bodies: For

Mushrooms live but propagate not; as some things propagate, yet are not alive; so bulls blood buried in a dung-hill produces worms; others are nourish'd but grow not, as most Animals when they have attain'd their just stature; yea, not every thing that lives is nourish'd; for House-leek continues a whole year in its verdure and vivacity being hung at the seeling: Nor dos every thing grow alike, for we see Dodder, which resembles Epithymum, clinging to a bunch of grapes, or other fruit hang∣ing in the Air, grows prodigiously without drawing any nour∣ishment from it or elsewhere. Whereby it appears that there is no Rule but has its exception, since Nature which gives the same to all things, oftentimes dispenses with her self.

The Third said, The Soul is the act of an Organnical Body endu'd with Life, and the principle of vegetation, sense, and motion; according to Aristotle, an Intellective or continual mo∣tion; according to Plato, a Number moving it. And conse∣quently, Life is nothing but motion; and a thing may be said to be alive when it is able to move it self by any kind of motion, whether of generation or corruption, accretion or diminution, local motion or alteration. For the most evident sign of Life is self-motion. Whence we call such, Living Waters, which flow; and those dead, which stand still; although improperly, because this motion is extrinsical to them, namely, from their source, and the declivity of the earth. The Pythagoreans therefore be∣liev'd the Heaven animated, because it is mov'd according to all the differences of place; and that this Animal is nourish'd with the Air which it draws out of the spaces which we call Ima∣ginary. Now as powers are known, so they are distinguish'd by their actions. So that the perfecter the motion is which de∣notes Life, the perfecter the Life is. Therefore, as Oysters and other imperfect Animals, endu'd with sense, enjoy a nobler life then plants, which onely vegetate; so they are inferior to other perfect Animals, which besides sense have progressive mo∣tion; and these, again, the slower and more impedite their mo∣tion is, the more they yield in dignity to others; as the Snail to the Dog and Hare. In brief, these are lesse noble then Man, whose Soul is mov'd after a more admirable manner; and who hath the faculty of Understanding, the most perfect of all; which being found in God in a far higher degree, beause it con∣stitutes his whole essence, being and Understanding (being in him one and the same thing) he hath the most perfect life of all. Which is the cause why our Lord saith, that he is the Life. Moreover, as the First Matter, which is the lowest of all things that are, (if it may be said to be) hath need iof all; so the sublimest of all things, God, hath need of nothing, but in∣cludes in himself all perfections, the chiefest of which is Life, which all Creatures enjoy onely by participation from him.

The Fourth said, Life is a continual action of Heat upon hu∣midity,

the periods whereof are distinguish'd by the several ef∣fects of this heat, to wit, the alterations of temper, and diversi∣ty of ages. For 'tis Physically as well as Morally true, which Job saith, that our life is a warfare upon the earth, since a thing is not accounted living unless so far as it acts, Death being the privation of actions; and there is no action but between contra∣ry qualities, of which heat and moisture are the foundation of life, as cold and siccity are the concomitants of death, old age which leads us thither being also cold and dry. Hence they are the longest liv'd who have most heat, as Males then Females; terrestrial animals then Fish, those which have blood then those which have not. As also those that abound with this humidity live long, provided it have the qualities requisite, namely, be fat, aerious, and not aqueous or excrementitious, because otherwise it easily cools and congeals, and by that means incon∣gruous to life.

The Fifth said, That heat being the most noble and active of all qualities executes all the functions of life, when it meets with organs and dispositions sutable thereunto. This heat must be in act, and not only in power, such as that of Lime and Pepper is. And though it be not so sensible in plants, yet it ceases not to be actually in them so long as they are alive, and to digest and assi∣milate the aliments which it draws for them out of the earth ready prepar'd; whence they have no excrements as animals have. With whom nevertheless they have so great resemblance that Plato, in his Timaeus, saith, that Plants are tanquam anima∣la; and Pythagoras conceiv'd them to be inform'd with the souls of some men, who having liv'd in the world without exer∣cising other actions then those of the vegetative life, addicting themselves to nothing but to feed and generate, are condemn'd to pass into the bodies of Plants; as the souls of those who have lead a brutish life are relegated into those of Swine, Tygres, Lyons, and other brutes whose manners they had imitated. Empedocles and Anaxagoras, as Aristotle reports, attributed to Plants a perception of pain and pleasure. Moreover, they have not only their maladies, old age and death, as animals have, but some too have differences of sex, and local motion, as 'tis observ'd of certain Palmes which bend towards one ano∣ther; and of divers other Plants which recoil from those that are contrary to them, and grow best neer others.

The Sixth said, Life is nothing but the union of the soul with the body; which requires a fitting temperature and conforma∣tion; from whence afterwards proceed all actions and motions both internal and external. Wherefore life is not an action of an action; (which is absurd) but hath its own actions. Nor is it the action of the soul; for then the body could not be said to live. But 'tis the act of the soul in the body; which being finite and terminated, as heat its principal instrument is, this is the cause that all living bodies have the terms or bounds of their

quantity, both as to greatness and smallness; but bodies inani∣mate have not so, because they acquire their quantity only by the approximation and apposition of their matter, and not by receiving the same inwardly; and because they have no organs which require a certain conformation and magnitude which they never exceed.

II. Of Fasting.

Upon the second Point, it was said, That there are many sorts of corporal Fasts (not to speak of the spiritual, which is abstinence from sin.) There is one of necessity, and the most in∣tolerable of all, which made the ancient Poets declaim against Poverty, saying that it was to be cast into the sea against the rocks; and which made so few Cynicks, in respect of so many other Sects of Philosophers. Against which evil there is no other remedy, but to make that voluntary which cannot be avoided. There are fasts of thrift for the Covetous; and others of Policy▪ observ'd in many States to good purpose, lest the Country be desolated of Cattle; and would be, should men eat egges and flesh in the beginning of the Spring, when Fowls hatch and Beasts engender, at which time the flesh of animals is unwholsome because they begin then to enter into heat. There is a fast of Health, ordain'd by Physitians to such as are full-bo∣died, and abound with ill humours; this is the best lik'd of all; nothing being undertaken so willingly as for health, whereunto moderate fasting greatly conduces, as well to preserve it, (ac∣cording to the Proverb, that Gormandise hath slain more then the Sword) as recover it, according to the advice of the Arabi∣ans, and other Physitians, who all acknowledge intemperance for their best friend, and are wont to prescribe Diet in the first place, to which belong primarily Fasting, then Medicaments, and, lastly, Cauteries. There is also a moral fast, which is a ver∣tue which in eating observes a measure sutable to nature, and right reason, for the taming of the sensual appetite, and encrea∣sing the vigour of mind, which is enervated by plenty of meats. A vertue which S. Austin calls the keeper of the memory and Judgement, Mistress of the Mind, Nurse of Learning and Know∣ledge. But the Fast of Religion is the most excellent of all, be∣cause it refers immediately to God, who by this means is satis∣fi'd for sins; because it abates the lust of the flesh, and raises the spirit to contemplation of sublime things, purifying the soul, and subduing the flesh to the spirit; but particularly that of Lent, whose sutableness is manifest, in that this time is the tenth part of the year, which we offer to God, as from all antiquity the tenths of every thing were dedicated to him. Moreover, 'tis observ'd that Moses and Elias who fasted forty days (the longest fast mention'd in Scripture) merited to be present at our Lord's Transfiguration.

The Second said, Fasting is an abstinence from food, as to quan∣tity or quality. As to the first, some have abstain'd long from all

kind of food, as Histories assure us; and Pliny tells of the Asto∣mi, a people of India neer the River Ganges, who have no mouths, but live only upon smells. But 'tis abstinence too when we eat little and soberly, and only so much as is needful for support of life; such as were the abstinences of the Persians and the Lacedemonians, with whom it was a shameful thing to belch, or blow the Nose; these being signs of having taken more food then nature is able to digest. The Gymnosophists, Magi, and Brachmans, rigorously observ'd these fasts. In quali∣ty, we abstain from some certain meats. Thus the Jews ab∣stain'd from all animals except such as chew'd the Cud, and were cloven hoof'd. And amongst them the Nazarites were forbidden by God to drink Wine or any inebriating liquor; as the Essceans, a Sect of Monasticks, besides Wine, abstain'd from flesh and women. Pythagoras abhorr'd Beans as much as he lov'd Figs, either because the first were us'd in condemning cri∣minals, or because they excited lust by their flatuosity. None of this Sect touch'd fish, out of reverence to the silence of this animal; and they made conscience of killing other creatures in regard of their resemblance with us. which was also observ'd by the first men before the Flood for 2000 years together; the Law of Nature, which then bore sway, making the same ab∣hor'd. But this fast is much harder in our diversity of fare then when only Acorns serv'd for food to our first Fathers; when the Athenians liv'd of Figs alone, the Argians and Tirynthians of pears, the Medes of Almonds, the Aethiopians of Shrimps, and the fruits of Reeds, the Persians of Cardamomes, the Babylo∣nians of Dates, the Egyptians of Lote, as the Icthyophagi of Fish; of which dry'd and ground to powder many Barbari∣ans make bread at this day, and their meat of the fresh. For in those days people liv'd not to eat, as many do in these luxuri∣ous times, but eat to live.

The Third said, That fasting is as contrary to the health of the body as conducive to that of the mind. The best temper, which is hot and moist, is an enemy to the souls operations, which require a temper cold and dry; which is acquir'd by fast∣ing: hence choler, being hot and dry, gives dexterity and viva∣city; blood, hot and moist, renders men foolish and stupid; and the cold and dry melancholy humour is the cause of pru∣dence. But this is to be understood of fasting, whereby less food is taken then nature is able to assimilate, not of that which observes a mediocrity, always commendable, and good for health. Moreover, the right end of fasting is to afflict and ma∣cerate that body by abstaining from the aliments which it natu∣rally desires. But as in drinking and eating, so in abstinence from either there is no certain rule; but regard must be had to the nature of the aliments, some of which are more nutritive then others; to that of the body, to the season, custom, exer∣cises, and other circumstances; so they who eat plentifully of ill∣nourishing

meats, or whose stomacks and livers are very large and hot, or who are accustom'd to eat much, will fast longer then those that eat little, but of good juice, or who have not much heat, and use but little exercise. Growing persons, as children, though plentiful feeders, yet oftentimes will fast more then those that eat less. In Winter and Spring, when the bow∣els are hotter, and sleep longer, fasting is more insupportable, because the natural heat being now stronger then in Summer and Autumn, consumes more nourishment. Wherefore, only dis∣cretion can prescribe rules for fasting. If it be for health, so much must be given Nature as she requires, and no more; the first precept of Hippocrates for health, being, Never to satiate one's self with food. If 'tis intended to purge the soul, then 'tis requisite to deny something to nature; the sucking which is felt in the stomack serving to admonish reason of the right use of abstinence. For temperance must not be turn'd into murder, and fasting only macerate, not destroy the body.

The Fourth said, That by fasting Socrates preserv'd himself from the Plague, against which we are erroneously taught to make repletion an Antidote: when 'tis manifest man's fasting spittle is found to be an enemy to poysons, to kill Vipers, and mortifie Quick-silver. Moreover, we may impute the false consequence which is drawn from the true Aphorisme of Hip∣pocrates (That Eunuchs, Women and Children, never have the Gout) and the production of so many modern diseases to glutto∣ny, and the frequency of meals; our fore-fathers being so well satisfi'd with one, that Plato wonder'd how the Sicilians could eat twice a day.

CONFERENCE LXX.

I. Of Climacterical Years. II. Of Shame.

I. Of Climacte∣rical Years.

MAn's life is a Comedy, whereof the Theatre or Stage is the World, Men the Actors, and God the Moderator, who ends the Play, and draws the Curtain when it seems good to him. When 'tis play'd to the end, it hath five Acts, Infancy or Childhood, Adolescence, Virility, or Manhood, consisting of middle age, and old age; each of 14 years, which multiply'd by 5 make 70 years, the term assign'd to humane life by the Royal Prophet. These acts are divided into two Scenes, of as many septenaries, in either of which considerable alterations both in body, goods and mind, also, are observ'd to come to pass. For seeing many persons incur great accidents at one certain number of years rather then another; and if they scape death, fall again into other dangers at certain times, and so from one degree to another, till they be come to the last step of the Lad∣der

which is call'd Climax by the Greeks; hence the name of Climacterical comes to be given to the years at which these changes are observ'd. The most general opinion refers them to that number of seven; though some have attributed them to the ninth, others, to every other second year; but especially to the product of the one multiply'd by the other, which is sixty three, compos'd of nine times seven, or seven times nine; and there∣fore the most dangerous. For seven and nine, as Fermicus Ma∣ternus saith, being very pernicious of themselves, their malig∣nity is conjoyn'd in that number of sixty three, call'd upon this account the grand Climacterical; as 7, 14, 21, 28, 35, 41, 49. (very considerable amongst them for being the square of seven) and 56. are call'd less Climactericals; but 126. the greatest Clima∣cterical of all, because it contains the grand one twice, being com∣pos'd of eighteen Septenaries. Now all these Climactericals are call'd Hebdomaticks, because they go upon seven, as those which are counted by nine are call'd Enneaticks, amongst which the less are 9, 18, 27, 36, 45, and 54, the grand one is again 63, made also of nine multiply'd by seven; the rest are 72, 81, (very notable too, for being the square of nine) 90, 99, and so to the greatest Climaterical 126, made of twice nine Septenaries. Amongst all which years 'tis further observ'd, that those are the most dangerous which ascend either by three weeks, or three nove∣naries of years, as, 21, 42, 63, in the Hebdomaticks; and 27, 54, 81, in the Ennecaticks.

The Second said, That as the Septenary is considerable, so is that of Nine, for the number of the Hierarchies and Celestial Spheres, together with the common number of moneths of wo∣mens pregnancy; the time between the conception and the birth having a great resemblance with the remainder of Man's Life. Likewise the Ternary, proper to the Deity, being multiply'd by it self, must contain what ever wonder and efficacy there can be found in numbers; since it belongs to innumerable things; and nothing can be consider'd but with its three dimensions, and its three parts, beginning, middle, and end; past, present, and future; hence the assigning of three faces to Janus, three names and three powers to the Moon, according to its own, that of Diana, and that of Hecate; together with the fiction of three Graces. In brief, as the three greatest changes came to pass in each of the three times of the world, before the Law, under the Law, and after the Law; so it seems just that this ternary number divide the actions of the less world, as it hath done of the great.

The Third said, That he accounted it more reasonable to make this division by the quaternary number, comprehended in the ineffable name of four Letters, the Elements and Humours; to the contract or amity of which we owe our health, our dis∣eases, death, and all the accidents of our lives. And the slow∣est motion of the dullest and most malignant of these humours

is made in four dayes, the reduplication whereof hath given ground to the error which attributes the Crises and indications of diseases to other numbers. The fourth day is acknowledg'd the first of Natures motion, and serves for a measure and foun∣dation of all others. The Crises of diseases are unanimously attributed to the Moon, which hath but four quarters, distin∣guish'd by as many faces, which being denominated from the quaternary, argue its power over that Planet; and conse∣quently, over every thing that depends upon it. And as there are four noble parts in Man, (comprehending, with Galen, those which preserve the species) so there are four in the world, East, West, North, and South; four parts of the earth, Europe, Asia, Africa, and America; and four Monarchies. But the consi∣derableness of this number appears, in that our Lord having been ask'd five questions, namely, of the time of his Death, his As∣cension, the Calling of the Gentiles, and the destruction of Jeru∣salem, they were accomplish'd in the number of four times ten. For he continu'd dead 40 hours, he ascended into Heaven at the end of 40 dayes, the vocation of the Gentiles typifi'd by the vision of unclean beasts, offer'd by the Angel to Saint Peter to eat, was at the end of 40 moneths, which are about 3 years and a half, (so long also as Antichrist is to continue) and the de∣struction of Jerusalem came to pass at the end of 40 years. Whence some suspect that the end of the world (which was another question made to him) will probably happen after 40 times 40 years; which added to the preceding would fall about the year 1640. Moreover, the quaternary is not onely a square number, but causing all others to be denominated such; the cause of the change which happens in this number, is, for that a Cube cannot be vari'd and mov'd but with difficulty; so that great causes are requisite to produce those changes, which pro∣ducing great effects, become more sensible and remarkable then the ordinary ones, which more easily cause variation in other numbers remote from the cubick figure.

The Fourth said, That the Prince of Physitians having affirm'd that the Septenary is the dispenser of life, and author of all its changes, seven must be the true Climacterical. For in seven hours the Geniture receives its first disposition to conception; in seven dayes it is coagulated; in seven weeks it is distinguish'd into members. The Infant cannot come forth alive sooner then the seventh moneth, and anciently it was not nam'd till after seven dayes; being not accounted fully to have life till it had at∣taind that periodical day. The Teeth spring out at the seventh moneth, they shed and are renew'd in the seventh year, at which time the Child begins to speak articulately, and to be capable of Discipline. At twice seven years it is pubes. At twenty one the beard sprouts forth. At twenty eight growing ceases. At thirty five a Man is fit for marriage and the warrs. At forty two he is wise, or never. At 49 he is in his Apogee, or highest pitch; after

which he grows old, and changes alwayes by Septenaries till he have accomplish'd the years of his life; which Hippocrates, for this reason, distributes into seven Ages. The virtue of this Num∣ber appears likewise in divine things; God having sanctifi'd the seventh day by his own rest and ours, and all Nations measuring their time by weeks. But 'tis not without mystery, that Enoch the seventh after Adam, was translated into Heaven; that Jesus Christ is the seventy seventh in a direct line from the first Man; that he spoke seven times upon the Cross, on which he was seven hours; that he appear'd seven times; and after seven times seven dayes sent the Holy Ghost. That in the Lords prayer there are seven Petitions, contain'd in seven times seven words. The Apostles chose seven Deacons. All the mysteries of the Apocalypse are within this number; mention being there made of seven seals of the Book, of seven horns of the Lamb, and seven eyes which are the seven Spirits of God sent throughout all the earth, of the seven heads and seven questions of the Dragon; of the seven heads of the Woman, which are seven hills; of seven Kings, seven Angels, seven Trumpets, seven vials, seven plagues. The Scripture makes mention of seven resurrections to that of our Sa∣viours. The 1. of the Widows Son of Sarepta, by Elias. The 2. of the Shunamite's Son, by Elisha. The 3. of the Soul∣dier who touch'd the bones of that Prophet. The 4. of the Daughter of the Ruler of the Synagogue. The 5. of the Widows Son of Naim. The 6. of Lazarus. And the 7. of our Lord. The Rabbins say that God employ'd the power of this Number to make Samuel so great as he was; his name answering in value of the Letters to the Hebrew word which signifies seven; whence Hannah his Mother, in her thanks to God, saith, That the barren had brought forth seven. Solomon spent seven years in building Gods Temple. Jacob serv'd seven years for Leah, and as many for Rachel. The wall of Jericho fell down at the sound of Joshuah's seven Trumpets, after the Israelites had gone seven times about it on the seventh day. Nabuchadononosor did penance for his pride seven years amongst the beasts. Moreover, there are se∣ven Penitential Psalms. The Nile and the Danow have seven mouths. There are seven hills at Rome, Prague, and Constanti∣nople. Noah entred into the Ark with seven persons, and seven pairs of all clean Animals. After seven dayes the waters fell from Heaven during seven times seven dayes. On the seventh moneth the Ark rested upon the Mountain of Ararat. The Eccle∣siastes limits mourning to seven dayes. There were seven years of plenty, and as many of famine, in Aegypt. There were seven Lamps in the Tabernacle, typifying seven gifts of the Spirit. The Jews ate unleavened bread seven dayes; and as many cele∣brated the Feast of Tabernacles. They let their land rest every seventh year, and after seven times seven had their Jubilee. The strength of Sampson lay in seven locks of his Hair. There are seven Sacraments in the Church, as in Heaven seven Planets,

seven Pleiades, seven Stars in the two Bears. The Periodical course of the Moon is made in four times seven days, at each of which septenaries, it changes its face. In brief, there were se∣ven miracles of the World, and seven Sages of Greece. There are seven Electors, seven liberal Arts, seven pairs of Nerves, seven Orifices serving for gates to the Senses: Natural sleep is limited to seven hours; and this Number is by some justly esteem'd the knot, or principal band of all things, and the sym∣bol of Nature.

The Fifth said, It was not without cause that Augustus was so extreamly fearful of the Climactericals, that when he had pass'd his 63^d year, he writ in great joy to all his friends; but he dy'd in the second Climacterick after, his 77^th year, consisting of ele∣ven septenaries, which was also fatal to Tiberius, Severus, T. Li∣vius, Empedocles, S. Augustin, Bessarion; as the sixty third was to Aristotle, Cicero (who also was banish'd in his Climacterick of 49) Demosthenes, Trajan, Adrian, Constantine, S. Bernard, the blessed Virgin, and many others. And the next Climacterick of 70, to three of the Sages of Greece, to Marius, Vespasian, An∣toninus, Golienus, David, who was also driven from his King∣dom by his Son, at his sixty third year; and committed his adultery and homicide at his forty nineth; both climactericals. And as much might be observ'd of the fates and actions of other men, were regard had of them. Our first Father dy'd at the age of 931 years, which was climacterical to him, because it contains in it self seven times 133. Lamech dy'd at 777 years, climacterical likewise, as Abraham dy'd at 175, which contains 25 times seven. Jacob at 147, consisting of 21 times seven; Judas at 119, made of 17 times seven; the power of which Climactericals many make to extend to the duration of States, which Plato conceiv'd not to be much above 70 weeks of years.

The Sixth said, That regular changes proceeding necessarily from a regular cause, and no motion being exactly regular in all nature but that of the Heavens; supposing there be clima∣cterical years, and not so many deaths and remarkable acci∣dents in all the other numbers of days, moneths and years, had they been all as carefully observ'd as some of them have been) their power of alteration cannot but be ascrib'd to the celestial bodies. That which befalls us every seventh year arises hence; as every Planet rules its hour, so it makes every day, moneth, and year septenary; beginning by Saturn, and ending at the Moon, which governs the seventh, and therein causes all muta∣tions, which acquire malignity by the approach of Saturn pre∣siding again over the eighth; which is the cause why births in the eighth moneth are seldom vital.

II. Of Shame.

Upon the second Point, it was said, That the Passions consi∣der evil and good not only absolutely, but also under certain

differences. Desire hath regard to absent good, not in general, but in particular; sometimes under the respect of Riches, and then 'tis call'd Covetousness; sometimes of Honour, and then 'tis call'd Ambition; sometimes of Beauties, and then 'tis an amo∣rous inclination. So grief looks upon present evil; if it be in another, it causes compassion in us; if in our selves, and appre∣hended prejudicial to our honour, it causes shame, which is a grief for an evil which we judge brings ignominy to us; a grief so much the greater, in that no offence goes more to the quick then that which touches our reputation. It occasion'd the death of a Sophist, because he could not answer a question; and of Homer, because he could not resolve the riddle of the Fishers; and of others also, upon their having been non-plus'd in publick. For as nothing is more honorable then vertue and knowledge; so nothing is so ignominious as ignorance and vice, nor (conse∣quently) that makes us so much asham'd; being reproaches of our falling short of our end, (which is, to understand and to will) and so of being less then men; but (as Plato said) Mon∣sters of nature. But amongst all the vices, Nature hath ren∣der'd none so shameful as that of lasciviousness, whereof not only the act, but also the gestures and signs cause shame. Hence an immodest or ambiguous word, and a fix'd look, make wo∣men and children blush, whom shame becomes very well, being the guard of chastity, and the colour of vertue; as it ill becomes old men, and persons confirm'd in vertue, who ought not to commit any thing whereof they may be asham'd.

The Second said, That shame is either before vice and the infamy which follows it, or after both. In the first sence, shame is a fear of dishonour. In the second, 'tis a grief for being fal∣len thereinto. Neither of the two is ever wthout love of ho∣nesty, but lies between the two extreams, or sottish and rustick bashfulness on the one side, and impudence on the other. The former is found in those who are asham'd of vertue, or cannot deny any thing, although it be contrary to honesty, good man∣ners, and their own will; or in such who cannot look a man in the face, which although frequently an obstacle to brave actions, yet is a common token of a good soul, rather inclin'd to honesty then to vice; like Edler and other wild herbs, which being good for nothing, and hindring the growth of others, are yet signs of a good soil. On the contrary, impu∣dence is the symptome of a soul extreamly deprav'd; the defect of inward grief, which comes from the perversion of the Intel∣lect, and the loss of Conscience, rendring the maladies of the soul incurable, as insensibility makes those of the body desperate. But modesty and true shame fears true dishonours, and is griev'd for them; having this of vertue, which the greater it is, the more it fears things greatly formidable and infamous, such as vice, and its concomitant, ignominy, are: but not much other things, which depend only on the imagination, and are not any

way dishonest of themselves; in which 'tis poorness of mind to blush. Thus S. Paul saith he was not asham'd of the Gospel. And our Lord, that they who shall be asham'd of him before men, he will deny them before his Father. For, to speak truth, we ought not to be asham'd of any thing but vice and its effects. Before sin, our first Parents knew not what it was to be asham'd; but after it they were asham'd of their nakedness, the same sense whereof remains to all their posterity.

The Third said, As some things are of themselves shameful, because they are vicious; so some are not shameful saving at certain times and places, to which the customs of each Country, for the most part, give Law: others are always so, although of themselves lawful, and far from being vicious; as those things which civility and honesty forbid to do publickly; whence Dio∣genes merited the name of Dog for transgressing those laws of seemliness. For as honour is drawn not only from vertue, but from many other circumstances, which for the most part depend upon the opinion of men who dispose of this honour, so doth dishonour and the shame which follows it.

The Fourth said, That shame is not a passion (as neither com∣passion nor emulation) because it hath no vertue which regulates its disorders; much less a vertue, not being firm, and constant, but a simple motion to good, and a slight impression of honesty in the will and affections, produc'd either by nature or custom, and not yet so firmly rooted as vertue; whence it is very muta∣ble and incertain. For we are asham'd of being too tall or too low, commended or blam'd, yea we blush no less for defects which cannot be imputed to us, as mean extraction, or some cor∣poral imperfection which we cannot mend, then we do for be∣ing found lyars or surpriz'd in some other fault. To which in∣constancy is the agitation of the blood and spirits to be re∣ferr'd, whose tincture diffus'd in the face betrays our dissimula∣tion in spite of us.

CONFERENCE LXXI.

I. Why motion produces heat. II. Of Chastity.

I. Why motion produces heat.

LOcal motion is not only the most common, but likewise the most noble of all, since 'tis not found in animals till they have acquir'd their perfection. Besides, it produces heat, the noblest and most active of all qualities; upon this account Physi∣ans enjoyn exercise to discuss cold and phlegmatick humours; because animal motion cannot be perform'd without spirits, and these being of an igneous nature calefie all the parts towards which they flow. But being motion produces heat in life-less

things too, 'tis harder to render a reason of this effect in them then in animals. Thus Arrows have been seen to become 〈◊〉〈◊〉 by the swiftness of their flight. Millers turn part of their 〈◊〉〈◊〉 upon the axle-tree of their wheel, otherwise it would be on fire▪ and Waggoners, as well for this purpose as to facilitate their turning, grease their wheels, thereby to remedy the dryness of the axle-tree which disposes the same to ignition. Those that hold it for a Principle, That motion heats, account is as absurd to inquire the cause thereof, as to ask why fire do's so. But without ground, since every motion heats not; that of inani∣mate bodies if slow, produces no heat, but only when it is swift: 'tis requisite too that the bodies be solid; otherwise we see motion cools water and air, and hinders their corruption, which proceeds from heat. This argues that it cannot be a principle; for a principle must hold good in all subjects, and be such as no instance can be brought against it. Such heat there∣fore comes from the attrition of the air, which being rarefi'd be∣yond what its nature permits, waxes hot, and sometimes is turn'd into fire, wherewith it symbolizes upon the account of its heat; as, on the contrary, when the same air is too much condens'd, 'tis resolv'd into water, wherewith also it symbolizes by it moisture. For as there are terms of quantity in all mix'd bodies; so in all simple bodies there are terms of rarity and den∣sity, beyond which the Element cannot preserve it self, without admitting vacuity, when it is more rare then its matter can en∣dure; or without penetration of dimension, when it hath more matter then it needeth.

The Second said, That to ascribe that heat caus'd by motion to the air inflam'd and turn'd into fire by attrition and attenuati∣on of its parts, is to explicate a manifest thing by one more ob∣scure, and whereupon all are not agreed; such is the transmu∣tation of one element into another. 'Tis Therefore more pro∣bable that this heat is not produc'd anew, but is the same which is in all mix'd bodies, wherein there is an elementary fire; which being buri'd, and (as 'twere) intangled in the bonds of the other Elements, appears not unless it be excited by motion. As in putrefaction the same heat being attracted by the outward heat of the air, becomes perceptible by the sense. And as those that have drawn a Landskip in distemper upon a table of oyl, co∣ming to wash the table, make the first draught appear which be∣fore was hid; or as the earth of a Mine which contains Gold or Silver, being wash'd, exhibites these Metals visible, but produces them not anew, because they were there before: so motion do's not make, but discover heat, introducing a disposition in the sub∣ject by friction, rarefying and drying the surfaces of two conti∣guous bodies; which two qualities being proper to receive the impression of fire, are also more so to make that appear which is in all bodies not only potentially, but likewise actually. For if 'twere the air included between two bodies rub'd and mov'd

with violence, it would follow that every sort of body would be apt to produce fire, and especially the most aerious, as being most inflammable. Moreover, nothing hindring but that two Spheres may be so contiguous, as the Celestial are, that there can be no air between them, yet they might nevertheless be mov'd and heated, yea much more then if there were air inter∣pos'd between them.

The Third said, As a form cannot be receiv'd into any subject without previous dispositions, so when they are pre∣sent they suddenly snatch the form to themselves. Those of fire are rarity, lightness and dryness; of which the more bo∣dies partake, the more they will be susceptible of the nature of fire. Therefore what is capable of being heated by motion must be dry not moist; whence fire is never produced by wa∣ter, any more then of air agitated, by reason of their excessive humidity, perfectly contrary to the dryness of fire. But that which is extreamly dry is half fire, needing no more but to be∣come hot, as happens necessarily when it is rarefi'd and attenu∣ated by motion, and consequently inflam'd; every substance extreamly tenuious and dry being igneous, since in the order of nature all matter necessarily receives the form whereof it hath all the dispositions. For there being a separation and divulsion of parts made in every sort of motion, as is seen in water when it falls from on high, it follows that they are render'd more rare, and capable of being converted into fire.

The Fourth said, That motion, rarity, and heat ordinarily fol∣low, and are the causes one of another. Thus the Heavens by their rapid motion excite heat in all sublunary bodies; and this heat, as 'tis its property, opening the parts, rarefies the whole. Wa∣ter receiving the rayes of the Sun is mov'd and agitated by them; this motion produces rarity; this, heat; which makes the subtilest parts ascend upwards: as, on the contrary, heat be∣ing the most active quality, is the cause of motion; this, of ra∣rity, by collision attenuating the mov'd parts. So that motion is not more the cause of heat, then this is of motion.

The Fifth said, That heat and fire (which is only an excess of heat) are produc'd four ways; by propagation, union, putre∣faction, and motion. In the first way, one way generates ano∣ther fire; a thing common to it with all other bodies in nature, which is so fruitful that even the least things produce their like. In the second manner, when the Sun-beams are reflected by bel∣low glasses, they burn in the point of union, provided the mat∣ter be not white, because whitenesse takes away the reason up∣on which they burn, which is their uniting; whereas white dis∣unites and disgregates the rayes. To which manner that of an∣tiperistasis is also to be referr'd, when external cold causes such a union of the degrees of heat, that it becomes inflam'd. The third cause of heat is putrefaction proceeding from disunion of the Elements; amongst which fire being the most active becomes

becomes also more sensible to us. The last is motion, by which bodies rub'd or clash'd one against another, take fire by reason of the Sulphur contain'd in them, which alone is inflamable; as we see Marble and Free-stone yield not fire as Flints do, whose smell after the blew seems sulphureous. For if only the air be fir'd, whence comes it, that in striking the steel the spar∣kles of fire fall downwards, contrary to the nature of fire, which ascends? besides, the air would be turn'd into flames, not into sparkles, and two stones rub'd one against the other would cause as much fire as steel and the flint, or other stones, out of whose substance these igneous particles are struck. Whence, according to their differences, they make different sparkles; If the stones be hard, and struck strongly, they render a sprightly fire; if soft, they either render none at all, or such as is less vi∣gorous. Moreover, the observations of fire issuing forth upon the rubbing of a Lyon's bones, as also Laurel and Ivy, and Cry∣stal with Chalcedon; and that which comes from stroking the back of a Cat in the dark, and from the casting a drop of recti∣fi'd oyl of Vitriol into cold water, evidence that this fire is produc'd out of the bosom of the matter which is more dispos'd thereunto then any other, not from the encompassing air. But that which serves most to shew that 'tis from the matter this fire of motion comes, is the duration of the Heavens, which being in all probability solid, would have been set on fire, were it not that they are not of a combustible matter, nor apt to conceive fire; for how little soever that heat were, there would be more neer the Sphere of the Moon then at the Centre of the Earth; and nevertheless the air is frozen while heat causes corruptions and generations upon the earth, and at the centre of it; and this heat having been always encreasing, as is that of the motion, would be insupportable.

II. Of Chastity.

Upon the second Point, it was said, That Reason regulates the inclinations of the appetite by the vertues, amongst which temperance serves to moderate that of eating by abstinence; and of drinking, by sobriety; as also the concupiscence of the flesh by chastity, which is more excellent then the two former, in that its business lies with more powerful adversaries which as∣sail it without as well as within, by so many avenues as there are senses; amongst which the hearing and sight receiving the poy∣son of glances, and words, cause chastity to stagger and lan∣guish; but it receives the deadly blow when the touch surren∣ders it self to the inchantment of kisses, and the other delights which follow them. Moreover, the necessity of natural acti∣ons being the standard of pleasure, and generation which con∣cerns the general being more necessary then nutrition which re∣lates only to the particular, it hath also more pleasure; and, consequently, being more hard to withstand, chastity which sur∣mounts it, not only deserves Palmes and Triumphs in the other

world, but also in this hath been rewarded by God with the gift of Prophecy in the Sibyls, and is honour'd by all, even the most wicked for its rarity; which made the Poet say, that there was none in his time chaste but she that had not been tempted. Now Chastity is of three sorts, Virgineal, Conjugal, and that of Widows; to which the Fathers attribute what is said of the grains of Corn, which brought forth, one a hundred; other, thirty; and other, sixty. For Virgineal Chastity, in either sex, consisting in integrity of body, and purity of soul, and in a firm purpose to abstain from all sort of carnal pleasures, the better to attend divine service, is more worthy then the other two, and prefer'd before any other condition by S. Paul, who counsels every one to desire to be like him in this point. Hence the Church hath chosen it, and is so immutably affected to it, to the end souls freed from worldly care might be more at leisure for divine things, from which Matrimony extreamly diverts. The chastity of Widows hath, for pattern, the Turtle and the Raven, who having lost their mates live nine ages of men without coupling with others; and the Apostle saith, Widows in deed are worthy of double honour. The Conjugal hath al∣so made Penelope renown'd, and hath for example the Etnaean fish, of which the male and female never part.

The Second said, Virgineal Chastity is not absolutely vertu∣ous of it self, having been practis'd by Pagans and Idolaters, who devoted themselves to their false gods, and being found in children newly born: which cannot be said of vertues, which are acquir'd by precepts and good manners, not by nature. Moreover, it may be lost without sin, as in Virgins violated, or those that are married; yea sometimes with merit, as when Hosea the Prophet took a Harlot to wife by God's express com∣mand. And being once lost, it cannot be repair'd by repen∣tance as other vertues may. Whence S. Jerome writing to Eu∣stochium, saith, that God who is able to do all things, yet can∣not restore virginity. 'Tis therefore commendable so far as it is referr'd to God: in which case 'tis a most admirable thing, and the more because 'tis above nature, which by Marriage peo∣ples the Earth, but Virginity peoples Heaven, where there shall be no marrying, but we shall be as the Angels of God, who be∣ing a pure Spirit, loves purity above all things.

The Third said, That Virginity is wholly contrary to the nature of man, who desires nothing so much as immortality, which being not attainable in his own person he seeks in his successors, who are part of himself. Yea it seems to have some∣what of insensibility, the vicious excess of temperance, since it wholly abstains from all pleasures; some of which are lawful. Therefore Plato sacrific'd to Nature, as if to make her satisfacti∣on for his having continu'd a virgin all his life; and the Romans laid great fines upon such as would not marry; as on the other side, they granted immunities to those that brought children

into the world; whence remains at this day the right of three, four and five children, observ'd still amongst us, those that have five children being exempted from Wardships. Yea, among the Jews it could not be without reproach, since sterility was ignominious among them, and was accounted the greatest curse. Moreover, Marriage not only supplies Labourers, Ar∣tisans, Souldiers and Citizens to the State, but Kings and Princes to the People, Prelates and Pastors to the Church, and a Nursery to Paradise, which would not be peopled with Vir∣gins, did not the married give them being. Whence S. Austu∣stin justly makes a Question, Who merited most before God, Abraham in Marriage, or S. John Baptist in the Virgi∣neal State.

The Fourth said, That being things are term'd vertuous when they are according to right reason, which requires that we make use of means proportionately to their end; therefore Virginity is a vertue, and the more sublime in that it is in order to the most excellent end, namely, the contemplation of Di∣vine Mysteries. For amongst the goods of men, some are ex∣ternal, as riches; others of the body, as health; others of the soul, amongst which those of the contemplative life are more excellent then those of the active. As therefore 'tis according to right reason, that external goods are made subservient to those of the body, and these to the goods of the soul; so is the denying the pleasures of the body the better to intend the acti∣ons of the contemplative life: as Virginity do's, which freeing us from carnal thoughts affords us more convenience to mind the things of God, and to be pure in body and spirit. 'Tis there∣fore the end which makes Virginity to be vertuous. Whence those Roman Vestals, and the Brachmans among the Indians, who abstain'd wholly from Marriage, nevertheless deserve the name of Virgins. And Spurina, mention'd by Valerius Maxi∣mus, so chaste that perceiving himself as much lov'd by the Thuscan Ladies, as he was hated by their Husbands, disfigur'd his face with voluntary wounds, had indeed some shadow, but not the body of this vertue. The invention of Gaila and Papa, Daughters of Gisuphe Duke of Friuli, was much more ingeni∣ous; who at the sacking of their City, beholding the chastity of their sex prostituted to the lust of the Souldiers, fill'd their laps with stinking flesh, whose bad smell kept those from them who would have attempted their honour.

The fifth said, That the excellence of Virgineal Chastity is such, that it hath no vitious excess; for the more we abstain from plea∣sures, the more pure we are. And as it is blemish'd many wayes, so it is preserv'd by many others. Amongst which, is first, Employ∣ment or Business; whence Cupid, in Lucian, excuses himself to his Mother, that he could not wound Minerva, because he ne∣ver found her idle. Modesty is also the Guardian of it, as to appear seldome in publick; whence the Hebrews call'd their

Virgins Almach, which signifies Recluses. Moreover, dishonest gestures, words, and looks, are to be avoided. And amongst corporeal means, Abstinence and Maceration of the body, are very effectual; as amongst Aliments such as are cold, as Nenu∣phar, or Water-lilly, (call'd therefore Nymphaea) and Lettice, which the Pythagoreans for this reason Eunuch, and under which upon the same account the Poets feign Venus to have hid Adonis. As likewise the leaves of Willows bruised, the ashes of Tamarisk, and the flowers of Agnus Castus, which is a sort of Ozier, so call'd by the Greeks, because the Athenian Ladies lay upon them during the festivals of Ceres, to represse the ardour of Love, whereof, they say, such are not sensible as have drunk wine wherein the fish nam'd Trigla is suffocated, or who have eaten Rue. But be∣cause these remedies are not infallible, Origen took another course, making himself actually an Eunuch, for fear of losing that rare treasure of Virginity, whose loss is both inestimable and irreparable.

CONFERENCE LXXII.

I. Of Thunder. II. Which of all the Arts is the most necessary.

I. Of Thunder.

AS Water and Earth are the grossest of the Elements, so they receive most sensibly the actions of the Celestial Bo∣dies, chiefly the Sun's heat; which exhaling and drawing up their purer parts, vapours from the Water, and exhalations from the Earth, forms meteors of them. And as the cold and moist vapours make tempests, dew, and frost, in the lower Region; and in the middle, clouds, rain, hail, snow. Exhalations, if fat and unctuous, cause Comets in the higher Region, and in the lower the two Ignes Fatui; if dry and subtile, they make Earth-quakes in the bowels of the Earth; in its surface, winds and tempests; in the middle Region of the Air, Lightning, Fulgur, or the Thunder-bolts and Thunder. For these three commonly fol∣low and produce one another. Lightning is the coruscation or flashing of the matter inflam'd. And though produc'd by Thunder, yet is sooner perceiv'd then the other heard; because the Sight is quicker then the Hearing, by reason its object, the visible species, are mov'd in an instant; but sound successively, because of the resistance of the Air, its medium. Thunder is the noise excited by the shock and shattering of the cloud by the inclos'd exhalation; whence rain commonly follows it. Fulgur is the exhalation inflam'd, which impetuously breaks out at the sides of the cloud, wherein it is oftentimes turn'd into a stone of the shape of a wedge; the celestial heat then working the

same effect in the cavities of the cloud that our common fire doth in crucibles; in which equal portions of Sulphur, Tartara, and Antimony inflam'd, turn into a very hard stone, of the colour of the Thunder-bolt, call'd Regulus Antimonii.

The Second said, As fire is sometimes produc'd in the Air without noise, and noise without fire; so a great fire is made there with little noise, as when what they call a Falling Star passes through a moist cloud, in which it makes a hissing like that of hot Iron in cold water, whence Winds proceed; and sometimes a great noise with little fire; as when an Exhalation inflam'd hollows and breaks the cloud which encloses it, or else impressing a violent and rapid motion upon it, makes it clash impetuously against other clouds. For impetuousness supplies for hardnesse, as is seen in Air which whistles when beaten by Winds; there being some things which tension renders hard, as Wind included in a foot-ball. And what is reported of the Ca∣taracts of Nile, whose waters make so vehement a noise, that it renders the people there abouts deaf, is a sufficient evidence that two fluid bodies clashing violently together, make as great a sound as two solid bodies mov'd with lesse violence.

The Third said, That what is done below being the figure of what is done on high, the one may be clearly explicated by the other. Wherefore as Exhalation with vapor makes metals in the entrails of the Earth; so in the Air it makes Thunder, whither they ascend together, the vapor being blended with the Exhalation; or severally, this latter being set on fire in the cold and vaporous cloud; or being no longer containable there through its great rarity, encounter'd by the coldness of the cloud and the Air, it seeks some out-let; which not finding, 'tis necessitated to hollow the bollow the belly of the cloud which obstructed it. This rarity proceeds from its heat and drynesse, which are commonly turn'd into fire by the sole motion of the Exhalation, or by the rayes of the Sun, or of some other Stars reflected by the smooth surface of an opposite cloud; in the same manner as Burning-glasses set on fire such things as are plac'd at some convenient distance. Which should be thought no more strange then mock-suns and mock-moons, which are made in the same manner, but in a flat or plain cloud, not parabolical, such as the figure of Burning-glasses must be. Moreover, fire may be ex∣cited by the Antiperistasis of the vehement cold in the middle Region of the Air, which causes the degrees of heat to unite, (as those of other qualities strengthen one another in an enemy country) and become flame. Hence Thunders are more fre∣quent in Southern then in Northern Countries, in hot seasons then in Winter, wherein the cold closing the pores of the Earth, hinders the free issue of the Exhalations, and the middle Region of the Air is found less cold. But the most sensible example of Thunder is that of our Guns; the powder, being so suddenly inflam'd that it cannot reside in the barrel, where it takes up a

thousand times more room then it did whilst it remain'd in its terrene nature, according to the decuple proportion of the Ele∣ments, violently breaks forth, and carries with it what ever resists it, breaking the Gun (unless the mouth be open) though much stronger then a cloud, whose spissitude nevertheless sup∣plies for its rarity.

The Fourth said, That the Nature of Thunder and Thunder∣bolts is so occult that all antiquity call'd them the weapons of Ju∣piter which he discharg'd upon the wicked, as is testifi'd by their fables of the Giants, Salmoneus, Phaeton, and some others. Nor is there any so hardned in wickedness, but trembles at the crack∣ing of Thunder and Thunder-bolts, which Socrates, in Xenophon, calls the Invisible Ministers of God. And one Emperor acknow∣ledg'd himself no God, by going to hide himself in a cave while it thunder'd, because Thunder-bolts are conceiv'd not to enter the Earth above five foot deep. Others have thought that there is something supernatural in it, and that Daemons have commonly a hand in it; because its effects being unlike those of corporeal Agents seem to be produc'd by spirits, who are able to move what ever there is in Nature; and this the more easily, being not ty'd to the conditions of the matter, but mov'd in an instant, and penetrating all bodies whatever. For Thunder hath kill'd many who had no appearance of hurt upon them; the Hair of some hath been taken off without other inconvenience; it hath consum'd the Tongues of some, or turn'd them downwards; it hath melted the money in the purse, and the sword in the scab∣bard, without other mischief; it sowres Wine in the vessel, spoils Eggs under a Hen, and makes Sheep abortive. Moreover, the Scripture tells us, that God hath many times us'd Thunder either to punish or terrifie men, as he did in Aegypt by the rod of Moses, who calls Thunder-bolts God's swords, as David doth his Arrows, and the Thunder his voice. The Law was given to the Israelites with Thunders and Lightnings; and Saint John in his Revelation saith, that Thunders and Lightnings proceed from Gods Throne. Indeed nothing more visibly notifies his presence, power, and justice; yet alwayes accompany'd with Clemency; for he threatens by Lightning, and speaks by Thun∣der, before he strikes by the Thunder-bolt; and the rumbling of this Thunder menaces a whole Region, though commonly it carries the blow but upon one person, or oftentimes none at all.

The Fifth said, Fear (which not onely sometimes made the Romans worship Famine and the Fever, but makes it self an Idol in the Minds of the Ignorant) has perswaded men that there is something Divine in Thunder, because they dread the dismal ef∣fects of it and know not the cause, although it be as natural as that of all other Meteors. Hence some have had recourse to im∣pertinent and superstitious remedies; as, to pronounce certain barbarous words, to carry certain figures or characters about

them, and (according to Wierus) to lay a Thunder-stone, call'd by the Greeks, Ceraunium, between two Eggs upon a Table in the house which you would preserve, or hang an Egg lay'd on As∣cension-day to the roof of the House; and such other absurd and prophane means. The Northern people were much more ri∣diculous; who, as Olaus reports, shot Arrows up to Heaven when it Thunder'd, thereby (as they said) to help their Gods who were assail'd by others. The Thracians fell a howling against Heaven, struck their shields with their swords, and rung all their bells; which latter is practis'd at this day, to the end the vehement agitation of the Air may divert the Thunder-bolt from the steeples, upon which, as upon all other high places, especially upon trees, it is wont to fall. 'Tis held also that strong smells have the same virtue; as amongst Animals, the Sea-calf and Hyaena, and amongst Plants, the Fig-tree and Lawrell, of which Caesar commonly wore a wreath, rather for this purpose then to cover his bald head. But 'tis little probable what they relate of Zoroaster and Numa, as that they still'd Thunder when they pleas'd, and that Tullus Hostilius attempting to do the same was Thunder-struck.

II. Which of all the Arts is the most ne∣cessary.

Upon the Second Point it was said, That if we take the judgement of each Artist, there's none but thinks himself more necessary then his companion. Whence commonly there is contention for dignity among those that profess several Arts. Which made a Physitian tell his Patient, who complain'd that his Apothecary told him he needed a medicine, and his Chy∣rurgion that he wanted nothing but blood-letting; that if he took the advice of his Shoe-maker, 'twas requisite for him to have a pair of boots. And even a seller of matches finding himself in danger in a boat upon the Seine, embracing his merchandize, cry'd out, Ville de Paris que tu perdes; O Paris, what a losse wilt thou have! But to consider things in themselves, Agriculture (call'd by Cicero the most worthy employment of an ingenuous mind; by Aristotle, the justest manner of acquisition, and the Mother of all the Arts) seems to be most absolutely necessary. No pri∣vate person, much lesse Republicks, ever thought of any thing so carefully as their provision, which is the foundation upon which all the other projects of Man depend; the hungry belly having no ears, and consequently, being incapable of discipline. And good Architects alwayes build the kitching first. Our first Fa∣ther exercis'd Tillage at his first going out of Eden; and 'twas from the plough that Coriolanus, Seranus, Curius, and Cato, and so many other great Roman Captains were taken. In brief, the styling of Earth Mans Mother and Nurse, argues that 'tis not lesse necessary to us then a Mother and Nurse to Children, and consequently, those that till it then Fathers.

The Second said, As the beauty of nature consists chiefly in the variety of Natural Agents, determin'd each to a particular

work; so that of a State appears principally in the multitude of Work-men and Artisans. And as the meanest of these Natural Agents, like small Simples, are more necessary, and have more virtue then the tallest Cedars and Cypresses; so amongst the Arts, the basest in appearance are the most noble and necessary, as Agriculture, and keeping of Sheep, which was exercis'd by Apollo, Paris, Saul and David. Whence the Greek Poet calls Kings, Pastors of the people; a name still retain'd by the Prelates of the Church; and Plato conceiv'd that the daemons and happy spirits were sometimes Shepherds; and Philo the Jew saith, that the Pastoral Art was a praelude to Royalty, as that of hunting is the apprentisage of war. Moreover, hunting, its neer sister, was much practis'd by the Persians and all warlike Nations; and Xenophon highly recommends it, but specially to Princes, in his institution of Cyrus; as Julius Pollex did to the Emperor Com∣modus, for an heroical recreation, serving to strengthen both bo∣dy and mind, and rendring men vigilant, laborious and inde∣fatigable.

The Third said, That Man, sutable to his three principal Or∣gans, the Intellect, the Tongue and the Hand, spending his whole life in reasoning, speaking, or doing, he therefore needs three sorts of Arts to serve him for rules in all his operations. The first, to form his Reason, therefore call'd Logick. The second, to regulate his words, and is either Grammar which in∣structs him to speak rightly, or Rhetorick to speak handsomely, or History to relate well, or Dialectick to speak of every thing pro∣bably. The third comprehends all real Arts, whose number infinitely exceeds the two other; for Men speak and reason after the same manner, because they do it naturally; but they ope∣rate in several manners according to the several usages and Cu∣stoms of people and places. Amongst these real Arts, some are necessary to life, as Agriculture, and keeping of Cattle, which supply us with Food and Raiment from the Earth and Animals. Others are useful thereunto, as the Art of building Houses, that of Taylors and Shoe-makers, and other manufactures which we cannot want without inconvenience. Others are for ornament, as Painting, Embroidery, Dancing. Others are onely for pleasure; as the Art of Cookery, perfuming, and all those which tickle the Ear by musical instruments. In brief, the scope of some is onely Truth, as the Art of measuring Heaven and the Stars, with some others, which as the most excellent, having Truth the divinest and noblest thing in the world for their object, so they are the least necessary; and therefore were in∣vented last. For the most necessary Arts are the most ancient. The use of things (the measure of their necessity) having con∣strain'd Men to make but rude Arts at the first, which they af∣terwards polish'd and refin'd by their industry, which is conti∣nually adding to former inventions.

The Fourth said, Since Divine Authority hath commanded

to honour Physick for its necessity, 'tis no longer lawful to prefer any other Art before it. Agriculture should in vain help the Earth's production of fruits, did not Physick by preserving and restoring health enable Man to enjoy the same, 'Tis not consi∣derable what some alledge, That Physitians may be spar'd, be∣cause there were none in Rome for 600. together, after they had been expell'd from thence; since to be without Physitians, is not to be without Physick. For then every one was his own Physitian. As if the Magistrates be driven out of a State, it does not follow that Justice is driven out too; because others succeed into their places; and the greatest Thieves keep some form of justice and laws among themselves.

The Fifth said, That the onely means of keeping States being to get (since in matters of Oeconomy, the foundation of States, not to gain and advantage is to go behind-hand) Merchandize both in gross and retail being the surest and speediest means to enrich Cities, seems the most necessary of all Arts; besides, it maintains society amongst Men, who could not supply one ano∣thers needs, if there were not an Art of trafficking by Exchange or sale, which makes but one City of the whole world, both old and new.

The Sixth said, That the Military Art being the sword and buckler of a State, is both the noblest and most necessary of all. 'Tis in vain that Men labour, travel, plead, traffick, or heal themselves, if the Souldier hinders not the Enemies invasion, and keep not the State in liberty, by securing it both from the di∣sturbances of Rebels, and incursiions of Forreiners. If one be the weakest, his plump and sound body being taken by Pirates will serve onely for the Galleyes of his conqueror. There remains nothing to the conquer'd but sorrow. Those goodly crops of Corn are for the Souldiers who are Masters of the campaigne. War is the fair where wares are had best cheap; and in sack'd Cities commodities are taken without weighing, and Stuffs are not measur'd but with the Pike instead of the Ell; if any complain, there needs no more but to imitate Brennus's treat∣ing with the Romans besiedg'd in the Capitol, cast the sword in∣to the balance, it will carry it. Wherefore being Master of all Arts, it is more necessary then they. For he that is strongest finds sufficient of every thing.

The Seventh said, As amongst the Arts, some have others sub∣servient to them, as the Ephippians to the Military Art; Chy∣rurgery, Pharmacy, the Gymnastick, and all that relate to Health, to Medicine or Physick; Carpentry, Masonry, and others employ'd about building to Architecture; and these Master Arts are call'd Architectonical: So there is one above all these which is Policy, the Eye and Soul of the State, which go∣verns all Arts, gives them their rewards, and punishes their defects; sets what price it pleases upon things; affords conveni∣ent place for the merit of every one, sends Armies into the field,

and calls them back according to the necessity of affairs; hath care of Piety and Justice, establishes Magistracy, appoints quarters to Souldiers, and gives free exercise to all other Arts. All which considerations and accounts argue it the most necessary of all.

CONFERENCE LXXIII.

I. Of the Earthquake. II. Of Envy.

I. Of the Earthquake.

IRregular motions are as strange as regular are agreeable; especially those of bodies destinated to rest, as the Earth is, being the immoveable centre about which the whole fabrick of the world is turn'd. For though the whole Heaven cannot rest, any more then the whole Earth move, yet the parts of them may; the Scripture informing us, that Joshuah made the Sun stand still, that he might have time to pursue the Amorites; and every Age having experiences of Earthquakes. To which Aristotle ascribes the appearing of a new Island in the Pontick Sea, call'd Heraclia, and of another call'd Sacrea. Many Geo∣graphers affirm, that the Islands of Rhodes and Delos were pro∣duc'd by the like cause; and that Sicily sometimes joyn'd to Italy, was separated from it by an Earthquake; whence the place of separation is still call'd by the Greek word Rhegium, which signifies separation and fracture. Pliny affirms, that the Island of Cyprus was by this means divided from Syria, and Euboea from Boeotia. Histories tell of some Mountains that have clash'd to∣gether, contrary to the Proverb, which saith, that they never meet; of Towns transported to some distance from their first situation, as hapned by an Earthquake in Syria, in the ninth year of Constantinus Copronomus; of others swallowed up, as sometimes the greatest part of the City of Sparta, upon which at the same time fell a part of Mount Taygetus, which completed its ruine; twenty thousand inhabitants of which City were also overwhelm'd by an other Earthquake, by the relation of Diodo∣rus, about the 78. Olympiade. Josephus reports, that thirty thousand Jews were swallow'd up by another. And Justin, that when Tigranes King of Armenia became Master of Syria, there hapned so dreadful an Earthquake, that a hundred and thirty thousand Syrians perish'd by it. Four hundred years agoe twelve thousand houses were shaken down at Lisbon. Italy was much endamag'd in the year 1116, by one which lasted forty dayes; principally, Tuscany, Puglia, the Territory of Venice, and Campagnia, where twelve Cities perish'd; and that of Pompey was swallow'd up in Winter, which season, neverthelesse, is ac∣counted free from it. Four years agoe the City of Naples was horribly shaken, especially the borders of Mount Visuvius. The

common opinion, refers these effects to a dry Exhalation, which makes the same concussion in the belly of the Earth as in that of a cloud, shattering many times both the one and the other, when it cannot otherwise get free from its confinement, how hard or dense soever the bodies be that inclose it.

The Second said, That the causes of Earthquakes are either Divine, or Astrological, or Physical. The first have no other foundation but the Will of God, who thereby oftentimes mani∣fests to Men his justice and power, and sometimes contrary to the course of ordinary and natural causes. Such was that at the death of our Saviour, in the 18^th year of Tiberius, which was universal, and wherewith twelve Cities of Asia perish'd; and that mention'd by Sigonius, hapning in the year 343. under Constan∣tine the Arrian Emperor, whereby the City of Neocaesaria was wholly swallow'd up, except the Catholick Church and its Bishop. The Astrological causes are, if we may credit the pro∣fessors of this Art, the malignant influences of Jupiter and Mars in the Houses of Taurus, Virgo, and Capricorn. But as the first are too general, so these are very uncertain, being built for the most part, upon false principles; as also those which suppose the Earth a great Animal, whose tremors are made in the same manner as those which befall other Animals. Wherefore holding to the most perceptible causes, I conceive, with Democritus, that torrents of rain coming to fill the concavities of the Earth by their impetuousnesse drive out the other waters, and that upon their motion and swaying from one side to another, the Earth also reels this way, and by and by the other; or rather that these Torrents drive out the winds impetuously, as Air issues out of a bottle when it is filling; which wind repells and agitates the Earth till it find some issue; whence also come the sounds and lowings which accompany Earthquakes. As is seen in Hydraulick instruments, which by arificial mixing Air and Water when they are impell'd into pipes fit to receive the same, excite sounds like those emitted by the wind-pipe of Animals, agitated with the wind of their lungs, and moistned with the salivous liquor, or natural water.

The Third said, That he could not be of their mind, who, because water is found by digging to a good depth in the Earth, therefore interpret that place literally, where 'tis said, That God hath founded the Earth upon the Water upon which it floats; and that according to their agitation, the Earth is like a Ship which fluctuates in a tempestuous Sea, and lyes even and still in a calm; since if this were so, then the whole Earth should tremble at the same time, which is contrary to experience. The opinion of Anaximenes, is more probable, that as part of the Earth, upon a droughth after a wet season, cleaves and crackles, so the same happens to Regions and whole Countries.

The Fourth said, That if this opinion were true, then they would begin, increase, diminish and cease by degrees, nor would

they last long. Yet 'tis observ'd, some have continu'd forty days, yea, six moneths, as that of Constantinople, under Theodosius the younger, and miraculously ceas'd upon the first singing of those words by all the people, Sanctus; Sanctus, &c. Aristotle also makes mention of some that lasted two years; the cause where∣of depends either upon the quality or quantity of the Exhala∣tions, which cannot all get forth but in a long time, or are not strong enough to break the gates of their prison.

The Fifth said, That to move the most ponderous Body, the Earth, requires the most active of all Agents, which is fire; whose centre the Pythagoreans therefore plac'd in the middle of the Earth; because the noblest Element deserves the noblest place, which is the middle, and for that 'tis necessary to the generations which are made there. Hence Maritime places, where most Vulcano's are observ'd, whose Fire is fed with the oylie and unctuous humours of the adjacent Sea, are more obnoxious to Earthquakes; and the last eruption of Mount Vesuvius was pre∣ceded by a horrible Earthquake. As likewise the Island Sacrea, above mention'd, being first lifted up with a great noise and concussion, open'd it self, and cast forth flame and ashes as far as the City Lipara, and some others of Italy. Now accord∣ing to the different matter of these Fires, the concussions which they produce by attenuation of the inflam'd Air are different; if it be nitrous, they are very violent; because Salt Petre being very Dry is suddenly fir'd in all its parts; and being of a terre∣strial nature takes up more room when inflam'd, then Sulphur which is fat and aerious, and consequently not so quickly in∣flameable in the whole, but only in its surface, by reason of its extreme humidity which checks the Fire; and when it is in∣flam'd it takes not up so much room, being of it self aerious, and consequently needing less space when it is rarifi'd to be con∣verted into Fire, whence the tremors caus'd by it are less: But when the matter which feeds those Fires is bituminous, the tre∣mors are moderate, because Bitumen is of a middle nature between the two former. Now because these materials when they begin to be inflam'd have not strength enough to make the Earth trem∣ble, till their Fire be increas'd proportionately to the enormous weight of the load which they are to move; their first effect reaches no farther then to trouble and infect by their vapors the springs of Subterranean Waters, as most susceptible of impres∣sion. Hence, according to the different taste, smell, and consist∣ence of the water of Fountains and Wells, some have fore-told Earthquakes; as Apollonius saith, that Pherecides having tasted the water of a spring in Scyros, fore-told one which hapned three dayes after. Moreover, if these vapors infect the Air too, the Earthquakes are follow'd by contagions.

The Sixth said, That without determining the famous Que∣stion of the Earth's Motion, it may be said that it moves about the Heaven as a stone in a circle, it would have the same tremors

and titubatious as those which Astronomers attribute to the Bo∣dies of the Planets, besides the regular motions of their spheres; of which Agitations 'tis not strange if Men who are mov'd with it discern not the differences so well as they do those of the Heavens; since they who are in a Ship do not so well discern their own motion as that of others.

II. Of Envy.

Upon the Second Poynt it was said, That 'tis no wonder Man is so miserable, since not onely the evil but also the good of others render him equally unhappy. For if we think them un∣worthy of it, it afflicts us, and raises indignation. If it begets sadnesse in us for not having obtain'd as much, it causes Emula∣tion; but if this good disgusts us meerly because we are sorry that another enjoyes it, it produces Envy; and these several af∣fections are not to be confounded. For the two former are not any wayes vicious, but oftentimes virtuous▪ and signes of a Soul well dispos'd; whereas the last is a grosse vice, directly opposite to Charity, which is the life of the Soul, and to Humane Society, violating virtue, which is the principal bond of it, and when the same is so bright and manifest as not to fear its assaults; whose lustre it obscures, as much as possible, by its stinking breath, and black calumnies. Pride is the Mother of it, Self-love the Father, Treachery, Dissimulation, Detraction and Ruine, its Daughters. And as 'tis the eldest of all vices, so 'tis the most enormous, having cast Lucifer, and millions of Angels, out of Heaven, and by his snares caus'd the fall of Man through the perswasion of the Woman, who was ambitious to become a Goddess, and who as more weak and proud is more inclin'd to this passion then Man. Therefore Aristotle saith, that the Peacock, the proudest, is also the most envious of all Animals.

The Second said, Other Vices have alwayes some sort of pre∣text; Covetousnesse, the fear of want; and Ambition, doing service to the publick; but Envy cannot find any, because it malignes what ever is laudable and good out of it self; here∣in much more pernicious then all other vices each of which is op∣posite but to one good, as Lust to Continence, Pride to Humi∣lity. But this sets it self to ruine, if it can, all the goods of the Body▪ of Forutne, and of the Mind; and so is a sworn Enemy of Mankind. Such it was in extremity, in that Man-hater Timon, who invited all his fellow Citizens to come and hang themselves upon his Fig-tree before he cut it down to build with; in one Mutius a Roman, who being very sad, it was said of him, Either some Evill is hapned to Mutius, or some good to some other. For the Envious looks only askew upon others prosperity, the thought of which incessantly gnaws his heart, and consumes him by drying up the blood in his veins. Which made the Poets represent Envy in the shape of a squinting wo∣man, with a dull dejected countenance, of a livid complexion; her head wreath'd with vipers, and all the rest of the body lean and ugly. Physitians say, Melancholy persons are most subject

to it, by reason of that black humour which produces and is produc'd by it. 'Twas through envy that Tyberius put to death an excellent Architect, being unable to behold with a good eye a pendant Porch which he had built, and much less his invention of malleable Glass; and it so tormented the spirit of Caligula, that he burnt all he could of Virgil's Works; and he could not endure the sight of handsome youths, but caus'd their goodly locks to be cut off that they might become deform'd.

The Third said, That envy, as vicious as it is, hath never∣theless some utility, not only amongst private persons to excite emulation amongst Artists, and make them strive who shall sell the best peny-worths; but also for the State, it being held a political maxime, to hinder as much as possible the grandeur of neighbouring States. And the Ostracism of Athens, although a balance to preserve democratical equality, was nevertheless an effect of Envy against such as had gotten most credit and au∣thority in the City, whom they banish'd for ten years. Yea had envy no other good in it, but to afford occasion of exerci∣sing vertue, it were not unprofitable. The attempt to blemish Cato's reputation by making him appear 46 times in full Senate to justifie himself from the accusations Envy had charg'd upon him, made him more famous. And the poyson which it made Socrates drink, kill'd his body indeed, but render'd his memo∣ry immortal. The truth is, if the Greek Proverb hold good, which calls a life without envy unhappy, Envy seems in some manner necessary to beatitude it self. Whence Themistocles told one who would needs flatter him with commendations of his brave actions, that he had yet done nothing remarkable, since he had no enviers.

The Fourth said, 'Tis such an irregular passion that it seems to aim at subverting the establish'd order of nature, and making other laws after its own phancy; yea so monstrous that 'tis not a bare grief for another's good, or a hatred of choler, or such other passion; but a monster compos'd of all vicious passions, and consequently the most mischievous and odious of all..

CONFERENCE LXXIV.

I. Whence comes trembling in men. II. Of Navi∣gation and Longitudes.

I. Whence comes trem∣bling in men.

THe correspondence of the great to the little world requir'd that, after the tremblings of the earth, those should be spoken which happen to men, some of which seize but one part of the body, as the head, lips, hands or legs; some the whole body, with such violence sometimes that Cardan relates of a

woman taken with such a trembling, that three strong persons could not hold her. 'Tis a symptom of motion hurt, in which the part is otherwise mov'd then it ought, being sometimes lifted up, and sometimes cast down. For in trembling there are two contrary motions. One proceeds from the motive faculty, en∣deavouring to lift up the member; which is done by retraction of the muscles towards their original, which by shortning them∣selves draw their tail to the head, and at the same time what is annex'd thereunto. This motive power serves also to retain the elevated member in the posture wherein we would have it continue; the abbreviation of the Muscles not suffering it to return to its first situation. The other motion is contrary to the will, and to that of the motive power, the member being depress'd by its own gravity. From which contrariety and perpetual war of these two motions arises trembling; one of them carrying the part as the will guides it, and the other re∣sisting thereunto, which is done more speedily then the pulse, and with such short intervals, that the senses cannot distinguish any middle, and makes us doubt whether there be two motions or but one; as a ball sometimes returns so suddenly towards him that struck it, that the point of its reflexion is not per∣ceiv'd. The causes are very different, as amongst others, the debility of the part and of the animal faculty, as in decrepit old men, impotent persons, and such as are recovering out of long and dangerous diseases, or who have fasted long; the weakness of the Nerve (the instrument of the animal spirits) its obstruction, contraction, or relaxation; the coarctation of the Arteries which send the vital spirits to the Brain, there to be made animal spirits, and proper for motion, as in fear which puts the whole body into an involuntary trembling. An Ague also do's the same; the natural heat which resides in the arterial being carri'd to the relief of the labouring heart, and so the outward parts, particularly the nerves, whose nature is cold and dry, becoming refrigerated, and less capable of exercising volun∣tary motion.

The Second said, That the actions of the motive faculty, as of all others, may be hurt three ways; being either abolish'd, diminish'd, or deprav'd. They are abolish'd in a Palsie which is a total privation of voluntary motion. They are diminish'd in Lassitude, caus'd either by sharp humors within, or by ten∣sion of the muscles and tendons, or by dissipation of the spirits. They are deprav'd in trembling, convulsion, horror and rigor, or shivering. Convulsion is a contraction of the muscles to∣wards their original, caus'd either by repletion, or inanition. Rigor, shaking and concussion of all the muscles of the body accompani'd with coldness and pain, is caus'd, according to Ga∣len, by the reciprocal motion of natural heat, and its encounter with cold in the parts which it endeavours to expell; or, ac∣cording to some others, by any sharp, mordicant and trouble∣some

matter, which incommoding the muscles and sensitive parts, the expulsive faculty attempts to reject by this commoti∣on. Horror differs not from Rigor but in degrees, this being in the muscles, and that only in the skin; produc'd by some matter less sharp, and in less quantity. But trembling being a depravation and perversion of motion cannot be known but by comparison with that which is regular. Now that voluntary motion may be rightly perform'd, the brain must be of a due temper for supplying animal spirits, and the nerves and parts rightly dispos'd. Hence the cause of tremblings is either the distemper of the brain, or the defect of animal spirits, or the defect of animal spirits, or the bad disposition of the nerves and parts. A fitting temper being the first condition requisite to action; every intemperature of the brain, but especially the cold, is the cause it cannot elaborate spirits enough to move all the parts. But this defect of spirits comes not always from such bad temper, but also from want of vital spirits, which are sent from the heart to the brain by the arteries, to serve for matter to the animal spirits. These vital spirits are deficient, either when they are not generated in the ventricles of the heart through the fault either of matter, or of the generative faculty; or are carri'd elsewhere then to the brain, by reason of their con∣centration or effusion. As in all violent passions, these spirits are either concentred in the heart▪ as in fear and grief; or dif∣fus'd from the centre to the circumference, as in joy, and not sent to the brain; and in these cases the motive faculty remains weakned, and uncapable of well exercising its motions. Lastly, the nerves being ill dispos'd by some distemper caus'd either by external cold, or other internal causes, or else being shrunk or stop'd by some gross humors; not totally, for then there would be no motion at all; they cause tremblings, which are imperfect mo∣tions, like those of Porters, who endeavouring to move a great∣er burthen then they are able to carry, the weight which draws downwards, and the weakness of their faculty which supports it, causes in them a motion like to those that tremble.

The Third said, That to these causes, Mercury, Hellebore, Henbane, Wine and Women, must be added. For they who deal with Quick-silver, who have super-purgations, use stupe∣factives and things extreamly cold, and Venery in excess, and Drunkards, have all these tremblings; according to the diversi∣ty of which causes, the remedies are also different. Gold is an Antidote against Mercury, which will adhere to it; Repletion against the second, Heat, Continence, and Sobriety, against the rest. Galen saith, that blood is sometimes to be let, by Hippo∣crates's example, that is, to refrigerate in order to cure trem∣bling. Which if it come from the debility of the Brain and Nerves, they must be strengthned; if from defect or dissipati∣on of vital spirits, they must be restor'd by good diet; if from plenitude, obstruction or compression of the nerves, the hu∣mour

and peccant cause must be evacuated. But above all the rest the tremulation of old people is hardest to cure, in regard of the weakness and paucity of spirits, as also those that are he∣reditary and happen to the parts of the left side; because trem∣bling denotes a deficiency of heat and spirits, which yet ought to be more vigorous in the left side, then the right, as being neerer the heart, the source of life.

II. Of Naviga∣tion, and Longitudes.

Upon the second Point, That the invention of Navigation, as of all other Arts, is due to Chance. For men beholding great beams swim in the water, first ventur'd to get upon them, then hollow'd them, and joyn'd a prow, rudder, and sides, re∣presenting the head, tail, and fins of Fishes, as their back doth the keel of the Ship; and this according to the different natures of seas, and divers uses of Trade and War; both being equally necessary to render a State potent and formidable. As Solomon sometimes by this means did, sending his Ships to Ophir (which some imagine Peru) and Tarsis, to fetch Gold, Sweet-wood, and other rarities. As likewise did the Tyrians, Phaenicians, Cre∣tans, Athenians, and in our days almost all Nations. Without the Art of Navigation we should want Spices, and most Drugs which grow beyond the seas; and a great part of the world would have been unknown had it not been for the long Voyages of Columbus, Vesputius, Magellan, and Drake, who sail'd round the world.

The Second said, 'Twas not without reason that Cato repent∣ed of three things; of having told a secret to his Wife, of ha∣ving spent a day without doing any thing, and of having gone upon the sea; and that Anacharsis said people in Ships are but a few inches distant from death, and therefore neither to be rec∣kon'd among the living, nor the dead, in regard of the infideli∣ty of that Element. Hence Seneca saith, there is nothing to which men may not be brought, since they have been per∣swaded to Navigation; and Horace detests the first inventor of Ships. Nor is it less rashness to invade this Element destinated to Fish, then the Air which is appointed for Birds alone. Our fore-fathers had good reason to make their wills, when they went to sea. But since the use of the Compass it hath as much surpass'd the observation of Stars and Shores (the sole guides of antiquity) in certainty, as the Compass would be surpass'd by the invention of Longitudes, which would teach how to hold a course perfectly certain.

The Third said, That to seek Terrestrial Longitudes is no∣thing else but to seek the difference of Meridians, that is, the difference between the Meridian of an unknown and a known place; or to speak plainer, the Spherical Angle made by the Meridian of an unknown place with that of a known place. To attain which knowledge men have hitherto made use of four ways, which are all found unprofitable.

The first is by an Instrument call'd a Contepas, or measure of Itinerary distance, which would be infallible if it were exact. For whoso hath the true distance between a known and an un∣known place hath infallibly the angle comprehended by the Meridians of the two places. For let B be a known place, and C an unknown place; let the distance between the place B, and the place C be the arch B C; if the said arch B C be known, the dif∣ference of the Meridians shall also be known. For let A be the Pole of the World, and draw the arches A B, A C, which are the Meri∣dians of the places B and C. Now since the place B is known, the height of the Pole at the said place shall be also known, and consequently its complement the arch A B. And although the place C be unknown, yet 'tis easie by the ordinary me∣thods to take the height of the Pole; and so its complement, which is the arch A C, will be likewise known. Now the arch B C is also known, since 'tis the distance of the places, and supposed known. Therefore in the Triangle B A C three sides being known, the Spherical angle B A C, contained by the said two Meridians, shall be also known. Which was to be demonstrated. But be∣ing we have no way to understand the distance of B C exactly, therefore neither have we the angle B A C exactly.

[illustration]

The second way were also infallible if it were practicable, and 'tis perform'd by a most exquisite and exact Watch. For setting forth from a known place with the said Watch, and ha∣ving gone as far as you please, supposing the Watch to go equal∣ly, if you would know the difference between the Meridian of the place where you are and that whence you departed; you need only observe the hour at the unknown place, and compare it with the hour noted by your Watch; which if it be the same, then you are undoubtedly under the same Meridian. But if your Watch says one a clock, and at the unknown place it be two; this signifies that 'tis one a clock at the place whence you set forth; and so you are in a Meridian differing fifteen degrees from that of the place whence you came: and so in other cases.

The third way depends upon the Needle excited by the Load-stone; for if you suppose a certain pole to which it is di∣rected, and a regular declination, there will (undoubtedly) be form'd a Triangle of three known sides, and you will have the difference of any two Meridians infallibly. But because the va∣riation of its declination is so great and uncertain that 'tis not possible to assign a certain pole to it, this invention is found as faulty as the rest.

The fourth way is by the Moon. Which might be as well by the Sun, or any other Planet. But because the Moon in like time makes more sensible differences of change of place, there∣fore it may better afford the knowledge of longitudes. Sup∣posing then that we have Tables of the Moon which do not fail

a minute; and that 'tis possible to observe the place of the Moon's Centre within a minute where ever you be, you will, un∣doubtedly, have the longitude, by comparing the time, that is, the hour and the minute at which the Moon is found in that same place of Heaven in the Meridian for which the Tables are constructed, with the time when you find her at the said place in the unknown Meridian; and then by making the Aequation of the two times. But because the Moon's motion is swift, and that of the primum mobile swifter, 'tis found that if you miss but two minutes of the Moon's place, you will erre a degree in terrestrial longitude, which under the Aequator makes sixty English miles; and so also if you erre four minutes of an hour either in the time of the Tables, or in the time of the observati∣ons: and if the error of time be double, treble or quadruple, the error in longitude will likewise be multipli'd. Now the Tables neither are nor can ever be exact, nor the observations made punctually enough for this operation. The reason of which latter is, that 'tis not sufficient to observe the Moon, but you must at the same time with her observe one or two fix'd Stars. And, which is most difficult, you must not only observe the body of the Moon but her Centre. Now to have the Moon's Centre, you must have her Diametre; which appears at the same time greater to some, and lesser to others, according as the observer's sight is more or less acute. And the Parallaxes with the Refractions interposing too render this practice unprofita∣ble; for these parallaxes and refractions are different in the very body of the Moon, the inferior part having greater refraction and parallax then the superior. Whence we never have any sure knowledge from the said refractions and parallaxes. For as for Parallaxes, we have indeed very handsome Theories of them, but such as cannot be reduc'd into practice with the pre∣ciseness requisite for Longitudes. And, as for the refractions of the air, they are yet more incertain; considering that we nei∣ther have, nor ever can have, any theory of them, by reason of the continual variation of the density and rarity of vapours. So that 'twere requisite to have Tables for every Horizon, made by the experience of many years; and yet they would be very un∣certain, because the mutations hapning in the air would render them unprofitable. Whence not only at sea but also at land 'tis impossible to have exact observations of the Moon's Centre; so that Cespeda, a Spanish Author, had reason to say, that this opera∣tion requir'd the assistance of an Angel. From the defect of obser∣vations proceeds in part; the defect of the Tables of the Moon's motion. I say, in part, for supposing the observations were exact, yet we could not have exact Tables unless we had the true Hy∣pothesis of the Moon's motion and course. Whence the Tables will be different among themselves, which are made upon the same observations, but several Hypotheses. Thus we see Origa∣nus and Kepler agree not in their Ephemerides, but differ some∣times

ten minutes, though both made them upon the same ob∣servations of Tycho Brahe, but upon different Hypotheses. And thus, there being no true Hypothesis of the Moon, we can ne∣ver have exact Tables though the observations should be such; and, consequently, since the ways of finding Longitudes by the Moon are Observations and Tables, and neither the one nor the other can be so exact as they ought; men can never find Longitudes this way, unless God afford them some other light of which they have not hitherto the least glimmering. Where∣fore Appian, Veret, Kepler, Metius, and many others, who have spoken of the means of ascertaining Navigation by the Moon, had reason to judge the practice thereof impossible, as was re∣monstrated two years ago to one that here made a proposal of it as his own; of which we are not likely to see the execution. The most sure way we have to find these Longitudes is by help of the Lunar Eclipses. For the beginning of them being ob∣serv'd in two different places, the difference of the times of their beginnings will give the difference of the Meridians. But this is an expedient more profitable to rectifie Geographical Charts, then serviceable to Navigation.

CONFERENCE LXXV.

I. Of the Leprosie, why it is not so common in this Age as formerly. II. Of the ways to render a place populous.

I. Of the Le∣prosie.

FOr right understanding the nature of this disease, 'tis requi∣site to know, that as the Brain is the source of cold dis∣eases, so the Liver is the furnace of hot, such as this is: al∣though its debilitation of the faculties makes some account it cold. For albeit the first qualities be rather the supposed then true parents of diseases, yet being more perceptible to us then other causes, and always accompanying them, therefore our rea∣son more readily pitches upon them. Now the Liver, either by its own fault, or that of the preceding concoction, which it cannot correct, begets adust blood; and this by further adusti∣on in the Veins (through the same excess of heat which it derives into them) becoming atrabilarious, is as such attracted, and retain'd by every part of the body, yet not assimilated, as it ought to be, in colour and consistence, but turn'd into a scur∣fie, black and putri'd flesh. If that impure blood be carri'd but to one part, and make a tumour in it, it makes a Cancer in it, either open, or occult and not ulcerated; which Hippocrates ac∣counted so desperate an evil that he counsels not to meddle with it; whence 'tis vulgarly call'd Noli me tangere. So that what a

Cancer is in some part of the body) as in the Paps or Breasts, by reason of their spungy substance more dispos'd thereunto) that is a Leprosie in the whole body.

The Second said, No humours in the body are so malignant as to cause a Leprosie, unless they be infected with some veno∣mous quality. The melancholy humour, in whatever quanti∣ty, causes only Quartan Agues; or if it degenerate into black choler it causes that kind of folly which they call melancholy. The bilious humour causes Frenzy, never the Leprosie, how adust soever it be, without a pestilential and contagious quality: whence Fernelius defines it a venemous disease in the earthy sub∣stance of the body, whose nature it wholly alters. For the me∣lancholy earthy humour having once conceiv'd this poyson derives it to the bowels and all other parts; which being cor∣rupted and infected with it, by degrees, turn all food into a juice alike venemous; wherewith the whole body being nourish'd acquires a like nature, and retains the same till death; that gross humour being more apt then any other to retain the qualities once imprinted on it. Now this disease comes either by birth, or by contagion, or by the proper vitiosity of the body. As for the first, 'tis certain, if the Parents be infected with this ve∣nemous disease, they transmit the same to their children; the formative faculty not being able to make any thing but sutably to the matter it works upon. Many hold (but groundlesly) that women conceiving during their purgations bring forth leprous children. As for the second, Leprosie hath this common with all other contagious diseases, to communicate it self not only by contact of bodies, but also by inspiration of the air infected with the breath of the leprous, or the virulent smell of their Ul∣cers. As for the third, which is the proper vitiosity of the bo∣dy, 'tis produc'd when a great quantity of black choler putrifies and becomes venemous. And there are several species of Le∣prosie, according to the humour, by adustion whereof that black choler is generated, whether blood, melancholy, yellow choler and salt phlegm. The first being less malignant makes red Le∣prosie, and the blood having acquir'd excessive acrimony by adustion, amongst other effects, corrodes the root of the hair, and makes baldness; The second caus'd by torrefying of melan∣choly makes black, green, or livid Leprosie, which is call'd Elephantiasis, because it renders the skin rough like that of Ele∣phants. The third, produced of yellow choler burnt, makes yellow Lepers, and is call'd Leonine, from the terrible aspect of those that are tainted with it, or from the lips and forehead which it makes them elevate like Lyons. The last, caus'd by salt phlegm, makes white Lepers.

The Third said, That the material cause of Leprosie being any gross humour, and the efficient a vehement heat; when both these causes meet in a sufficient degree, Leprosie is con∣tracted by the ill habit of the body. Hence men are more ob∣noxious

to it then women who have less heat; for want of which Eunuchs are also free from it, and many have voluntarily made themselves such, to avoid it. Men of perfect age, as be∣tween 35 and 48 years, hot and dry, fall most easily into this dis∣ease. And of these Southern people more then Northern. Whence Alexandria, yea all Egypt and Judea were most pester'd with it; but especially the latter, where even the walls and vessels contracted leprosie. Which Interpreters more admire then comprehend, and gave occasion to Manetho the Historian (who is refuted by Josephus) to say, that this Leprosie forc'd the Egyptians to drive the Jews out of their Country. On the contrary, Germany knew it not for a long time, nor Italy before Pompey, in whose time his Souldiers brought it from Egypt; the Kings whereof, as Pliny relates, were wont to asswage the malignity by an inhumane and abominable remedy, a bath of little childrens blood. But the Scythians were always free from it, as well by reason of the coldness of their climate, as the fa∣miliar use of milk, whose thin and wheyie part hinders the ge∣neration of melancholy, and the other parts moisten and temper heat. 'Tis also produc'd by food of gross and glutinous juice (as Swines flesh, for this cause forbidden to the Jews) by the He∣morrhoids stop'd, and other suppressions of blood. Now 'tis not so frequent in these days as of old; first because being brought hither by strangers, it appear'd upon them and some of their descents, but could not long consist with the mildness of our air, and so became extinct of it self by the separation of such as were most infected with it; as Peaches are poyson in Persia, but delicious fruits amongst us. Secondly, because it be∣ing ignominious to be separated from all society, the few Lepers that remain'd would not appear, unless they were forc'd; whilst in the mean time the revenues of Hospitals design'd for their support have been seiz'd by such as favour'd their conceal∣ment the better to enjoy the same.

The Fourth said, The decreasing of this disease, as well as of other Epidemical diseases, is to be attributed to certain Constel∣lations. Besides, perhaps the ignorance of former times took the Pox for the Leprosie; and so not knowing how to cure the Pox so well as at this day, it was communicated to more per∣sons. The accidents of these two diseases are almost the same, both are cur'd with Mercury, whose excessive coldness and hu∣midity corrects the heat and dryness of the Leprosie, and by its extream tenuity penetrating the more solid parts wherein the Leprosie lies more successfully encounters this atrabilarious ve∣nome then Mithridate and Vipers do, although much commen∣ded by Galen, who relates five stories of such as were cur'd therewith, but we have experiences to the contrary in these lat∣ter ages, refrigerating and humecting Medecines having been found more profitable then drying, as Vipers are; which, whe∣ther our climate, or some other unknown cause, occasion the alter∣ation,

rather increase then diminish this evil. Nevertheless, what is reported of the means to cure the Leprosie, especially if hereditary or inveterate, must be understood of a palliative or preservative, not of a perfect cure; which is difficult in the be∣ginning of this malady, when only the bowels are tainted; very difficult in its increase, when the signs begin to appear outward∣ly; impossible in its State when the members come to be ulce∣rated; and desperate in its declination, when they begin to drop off. Although Paracelsus, by his great work promises to cure not onely men but also all imperfect metals, which he termes leprous.

II. Of the wayes to render a place popu∣lous.

Upon the Second Point it was said, All our great designes aim at Eternity, and among the means of attaining thereunto, Princes have found none more magnificient, and correspondent to their grandeur, then to build Cities after their own names. Such was that of Alexander in the founding of Alexandria, of Constantine in that of Constantinople, of the Caesars in so many Cities of their names; and in our time, of the King of Sweden in Gustavousburg, of the King of Spain in Philippa, of the Duke of Nevers in Charle-ville, and of some others. But to accomplish this great design, 'tis to be consider'd that the business is to be done with men, who are drawn by as many wayes as they consist of parts, to wit, Body and Soul. And because most men are sensual, therefore things relating to corporeal conveniences are most attractive. Amongst which, regard is principally to be had to the Air, as that which we breathe incessantly, to meat and drink, which are of daily necessity. Hence we see few healthful and fertile places desert; whereas barren and desert places, what ever care be taken, alwayes return to their first nature. If those conveniencies be wanting in the place, they they must at least be near hand, and attainable by commerce of Seas and Rivers; which also are advantageous for the vent of home-bred commodities. But the most necessary condition of all is safety; which hath render'd Holland, the Adriatick Gulph, and almost all Islands populous, as it sometimes assembled many out-laws and miserable persons at the first building of Rome; the same course being also practis'd by Timoleon to popu∣late Syracuse. For Man being naturally a sociable creature, the cause of their assembling together was not the casual concourse of atoms, as Epicurus feign'd, nor the wonder of fire, as Vitru∣vius saith, nor their meeting near pits and springs, much less Musick, Eloquence, or Philosophy; but onely their natural in∣clination to preserve themselves, and be secure, first, against wild beasts, and then against their enemies, who were kept off with walls. Yet as a fortress needs a strong bulwark, so a frontier Town cannot easily become populous, the guarding of it divert∣ing its inhabitants from attending more necessary Arts, as Agri∣culture, Manufacture, and Trade. For most Cities are render'd

populous by some Manufactures, both buyers and sellers resort∣ing to such places where there is most plenty and most vent. Wherefore 'tis one of the best expedients to invite the most ex∣cellent Artists from all parts of the world, by immunities, pri∣viledge, and rewards. As to the Soul, Religion bears a great stroke in this matter, obliging men to Voyages, Pilgrimages, Of∣ferings, and other devotions, in some places rather then others. And next are Academies and Universities, all sorts of Sciences and Disciplines.

The Second said, That a City being an assembly and union of many persons in order to live happily, filling it with people is not so necessary as exact observation of Laws; which consisting only in order, are commonly neglected in places where multitude caus∣eth confusion. Hence Solon, Lycurgus, and most ancient Le∣gislators, limited the Inhabitants of their Cities to a certain number, which Hippodamus the Milesian restrain'd to ten thousand men; and at this day, in some Cities, as Lisbon and Naples, 'tis not lawful to erect new buildings, which hath also been fre∣quently prohibited at Paris. For the same reason many Nations have discharg'd themselves of their people by colonies, or sending them to the conquest of other Territories, as did sometimes the Gauls under Bremus; the Goths, Huns, Alans, Hernles, and Van∣dals, under Attila and Alaric; and the Swisses are at this day in the service of most Princes and States.

The Third said, That the true strength of a State, both for offence and defence, consists in the number of men, and therefore a City flourishes according to its populousness. The small num∣ber of inhabitants limited by Legislators hath sometimes been the losse of their Republicks; that of Sparta in the battle of Leuctra and Athens, in one single battle against Philip; as it would also have been of the Roman Empire at the defeat of Cannae, where 50000. Romans dy'd upon the place, without the supply which they found in the almost innumerable multitude of the Citizens of Rome, render'd populous by the residence of Kings, Consuls, and Emperors, and the supreme Tribunal of Justice which the Senate dispens'd thence to all the world, with whose spoils it was inrich'd. Whose increase was also promoted by the rigorous laws against coelibacy, and the priviledges granted to such as had many children; for propagating which, before Christiauity, they permitted polygamy and divorce, and au∣thoriz'd concubinage by legitimation of natural issues. More∣over, the felicity of a City lying in the plenty and sufficiency of all things, which is not found except amongst a great number of inhabitants who interchangeably communicate their commodi∣ties; the most populous City is the most happy. And experi∣ence manifests, that the Laws and Justice are better administred in great Cities, then in hamblets and villages; especially when Concord, whereby small things grow, is maintain'd therein.

CONFERENCE LXXVI.

I. Of Madness. II. Of Community of goods.

I. Of Madness.

SInce Man by his treason first destroy'd the goodly order establish'd by God in nature, endeavoring to advance him∣self above his Creator, the beasts have, also, in just punishment of his crime, shaken off his yoke; some offending him by their breath, others by their sight, some with the voice, most with biting; which if venomous, as that of Serpents and mad Dogs, imprints a malignant quality in the whole habit of the Body, whose temper it destroys. That of mad-dogs, although less painful then any, yet more horrible, and so much more danger∣ous in that it oftentimes seizes upon the noble parts without being perceiv'd till the madness be at the height. The signes for know∣ing this Evil in its birth, in order to prevent it, are not taken from the wound which is altogether like other wounds, but from the dog that made it. For if he be mad, he neither eats nor drinks, although he thirst extremely; he pants and blows, hangs out his tongue, which is yellow and tinctur'd with choler, he casts forth dry and clotted froth at the mouth and nose, hangs down his ears, looks wildly with sparkling eyes, flyes at known and unknown, and bites without barking; he is lean, carries his tail between his legs clinging to his belly, he runs fast, and stops suddenly, hits upon every obstacle without going out of his way, and other dogs avoid him. But if the dog cannot be seen, then bruised nuts or hot bread must for some hours be lay'd upon the wound, or else meal temper'd with the blood running from it, gi∣ven to a hungry dog or hen, who will dye if the wound were made by a mad dog.

The Second said, Madness is a malady oftentimes with deli∣ration, caus'd in an Animal by a particular poyson, communi∣cated to Man, with extreme aversion against all liquors, espe∣cially water. It happens to Wolves, Oxen, Horses, Cats, and almost all Animals, but most frequently to Dogs, either by reason of their melancholy temper, or a particular inclination which they have to madness, as the swine hath to leprosie. For 'tis an Evil that is not known but by its effects; 'tis a poyson particu∣larly apt to be communicated to Man by biting, by the slaver, foam, or feeding of an enrag'd Animal, not depending on the first qualities, but acting with its whole substance: As appears in that it reigns in great colds and excessive heats, but is cur'd with medicines which act not by their first qualities, but by their whole substance, as the ashes of fresh-water Crabs, and Mithri∣date; and, according to Dioscorides, 'tis contracted by qualities altogether occult, as to sleep very long in the shadow of a Ser∣vice Tree; and he saith, he saw a Carder of Wool become mad

onely by having long beaten his wool with a wand of Cornel Tree. The same is affirm'd of a plant call'd Dog-berry Tree. Yet the most part, with Matthiolus and Fernelius, hold, that these causes may awaken the hidden evil, and augment it, but not pro∣duce it, unless in such as have been mad before. But how comes this poyson to lie hid so long, that Fracastorius saith it seldome appears before the one and twentieth day, commonly after the thirtieth, in many after four or six moneths, and sometimes after divers years; seeing all poysons being an enemy to the Heart, should be carry'd thither suddenly by the Arteries. This seems to proceed from the proportion of the Agent and Patient, and their several resistance, differing according to the degrees of the poyson, the diversity of tempers or food, climates, or the part hurt. For poyson being contrary to our nature by particular malignity cannot be wholly subdu'd by our natural heat, and so may preserve its malignity in the body a long while, without manifesting it self till it have first introduc'd dispositions requi∣site to its reception, which happens to be sooner or later accord∣ing to the good or bad temper of the body; whence in several persons bitten by the same dog, madness appears in some sooner, in others later. As some have the small pox when they are well in years, others in their infancy, though most Physitians agree that 'tis an Ebullition of some venemous matter contracted by every one in his mothers womb, by impurity of the menstruous blood retain'd during the time of breeding. So the cholerick are sooner tainted with madness and all other poysons then the phlegmatick; such as are lean and have large veins sooner then fat who have small. The skin, artery, vein, nerve and muscle, variously communicate this poyson. The power of Imagination also contributes much to it. Whence Aetius relates, that a Phi∣losopher having by his Ratiocination concluded that the dog which appear'd to him in the water of the bath, and made him afraid, was nothing but an effect of his perverted Phancy, there being no affinity between a bath and a dog, drunk largely of it and was cur'd.

The Third said, That the signs of madness are anxiety, cause∣less anger and fear, heaviness and griping of the stomack, the hiccock, and other convulsive motion, hoarsness of the voice, sweating of the countenance, and contraction of the whole body; but the most certain is the total aversion from water (although the thirst be vehement) which is the certainest remedy in this case, whence some have been cur'd by being unawares plunged into water, and so made to drink whether they would or no. This Hydrophobia cannot be from the image of the dog appearing in the water to the patient beholding his own terrible aspect. For some have been possess'd with aversion from water without the biting of a dog; as Platerus tells of a woman who became Hy∣drophobous by having abode a whole night neer a river. Much less can it come from the dryness caus'd in them by this poyson;

for then they would rather desire drink; but it proceeds from a particular antipathy of this poyson to water, so great, that if the fresh wound of a dog's biting be with cold water, it be∣comes incurable; the poyson flying water so much, that at its approach it retires from the surface inwardly, whence it cannot afterwards be expell'd.

The Fourth said, That the Phancy alone was capable to cause this aversion from water, notwithstanding the natural incli∣nation of the parts requiring humectation. For that faculty is very strong in these Patients, having the image of the dog al∣ways present, and so they imagine that they see it in the water; as the Fool Antiphon thought he continually saw his own in the air. Yea, possibly, as a little seed is so configurated by the for∣mative vertue that it becomes another animal, and in Plants a hundred grains are made of one: so this poyson containing the idea of the whole substance of the dog, by which alone it acts, when receiv'd into the body, and assisted by natural heat pro∣duces new species of the dog; which being carri'd by the spirits to the Brain are so strongly imprinted in the imagination that reason can hardly rectifie them; and being again represented in the water by emission of the animal spirits, in vision, make the patients abhor water, and all liquid things. Which will not be thought so irrational by those that maintain that the foam of a mad dog hanging on the hem of linen produces little animals of a dog-like shape; nor by those who have observ'd the sediments of the Urines of these Patients to have the same figure, as if the whole man became dog in this malady, as he becomes all wolf in Lycanthropie.

The Fifth said, The mind and body being both disorder'd in this malady, require each a distinct cure. The mind must be setled, and diverted from that sad object of dogs, and the most usual way in France is to be bath'd in sea-water. As for the bo∣dy, the poyson must be drawn out of the new wound by Cup∣ping-glasses, Scarifications, Suctions, Cauteries, and attractive Cataplasms, such as that of pitch and Opopanax dissolv'd in Vinegar, which Galen saith is infallible; ligatures made upon the wound if the part admit them, or else incompass'd with defensatives, as Dragons blood, and Bole Armenick mingled with the white of an egge; then some Antidotes or Alexiteries to strengthen the principal parts, and alter the malignity of the poyson; as the Herb call'd Alyssum, because it extinguishes madness, the ashes of Crevish, Mistletoe of the Oak, Scor∣dium, Dittany, Angelica, and blessed Thistle. Of all which re∣medies, as also of the purgatives, the dose must be double, and so proportionate to the greatness of the evil; but they are un∣profitable when the Patient is already averse from water and li∣quid things, only two, of which Themison the Physitian is one, being recorded to have been cur'd by them.

II. Of Commu∣nity of goods.

Upon the second Point, it was said, That a City is a society establish'd in order to living well; and amity being the founda∣tion of society, what conduceth to preserve it in a City ought to be exactly observ'd. Such is community of goods, so much desir'd by Plato, that in his Republick he could not suffer the words Meum & Tuum, which he accounted the original of all disorders hapning in States; and, as they say, practis'd by Pytha∣goras too amongst his disciples, as by our Monasticks. As also by the Garamantes, a people of Africa, as Mela reports, and by the Brachmans, Esteans, and Gymnosophists. Whilst the La∣cedemonians observ'd it, their State was the most flourishing of Greece. The example of the first Christians is express, who sold all that they had, and laid the money at the Apostles feet; and Ananias, with his wife Sapphira, dy'd for having kept back part of the price of their inheritance sold to this end. For the condemning of the Anabaptists of Westphalia under Munster, who practis'd this community, was for their Heresie which they cover'd with this specious pretext. And Diodorus Siculus re∣lates that among the Aethiopians community of goods makes so perfect friendship, that friends not only will conform to one ano∣ther by the equality of the goods of fortune; but also when one of them becomes blind, maim'd or lame, they deprive themselves of the same members, accounting it reasonable to have commu∣nity not only of goods, but also of evils, the burden being les∣sen'd by division, and more supportable by example. But good is greater when communicated to more; communicativeness being a quality which belongs to the best things in the world, as to Light and the Sun, yea to God, who as he is goodness it self, so he is the most communicative of all beings, having communi∣cated himself not only, in eternity, by the generation of the Word and procession of the Holy Ghost, but in time, by the producti∣on of all his creatures.

The Second said, That indeed some goods are the more ex∣cellent by being communicated, as the Virtues and Sciences are encreas'd the more they are exercis'd and taught. But 'tis not so with the goods of fortune, which diminish by commu∣nication and use. Whence men are not sparing of the first, but very much of the latter, restraining the use thereof wholly to themselves. Now although community of goods seems founded in nature, all things having been common at first, and appropriated afterwards by the covetousness of the occupants; yet 'tis directly contrary to the felicity of a City, which consists not onely in a society of Men, but of Men of different condi∣tions, the meanest of which being commonly most necessary in a State would not be exercis'd if all were equally rich and powerful. And if the necessity of Hunger, which sometimes taught Pies and Crows to speak at Rome, had not press'd most of the first inventors of Arts, the same would be yet to discover.

Nothing is more beautiful in Nature then Variety, nor yet in Cities. Besides, Men being apt to neglect the publick, in com∣parison of their private interest, were goods common, they would be careless of preserving or increasing them, and rely upon the industry of others. Thus this equality would beget laziness, whilst they that labour'd most could hope for no more then they that did nothing at all. Moreover, if Wives and Children were common, as Socrates, in Plato, would have them, it would be a great hindrance to propagation; Children would not own their Parents, nor these their Children, and so there would be no paternal, filial, nor conjugal love, which yet are the surest foundations of humane society. Incests and Parricides would be frequent, and there would be no place for the exercise of most virtues, as of Chastity and Friendship, (the most perfect of all virtues) much less of Liberality and Magnificence, since nothing should be given but what belongs alike to all; nor would any be capable of receiving.

The Third said, That in a City, which is a society of compa∣nions, some things must be necessarily injoy'd in common, as Publick Places, Havens, Fairs, Priviledges, Walls, Town-houses, Fortresses, and publick charges. But not all things, in re∣gard of the inconveniences which would follow thereupon; and therefore Plato was forc'd to reform his first imaginary Re∣publick, and make another more sutable to the humours of men; permitting every one the possession of some goods, yet with this restriction, that he would not have any become too unpro∣portionably rich.

The Fourth said, That Plato's design, in his Republick, was, to conjoyn action and contemplation; he would have a City first Mistress of her self, then of the world; more venerable then formidable to its neighbours; less rich then just, but sober, tem∣perate, chaste, and, especially, religious. And to render it such, he conceiv'd, that by removing all impediments from within by equality of goods, he trac'd out the way to contem∣plation, which is the supreme good whereunto men aspire; and therefore community of goods which is conducive thereunto, cannot be too highly esteem'd. But in this Age it would de∣prive all goods of that name, by rendring them common; and there would be no common good, if there were none particular.

CONFERENCE LXXVII.

I. Of Sorcerers. II. Of Erotick, or Amor∣ous Madness.

I. Of Sorcerers.

THe malignant Spirit's irreconcilable to humane nature ex∣alted above his own, is such, that he is not contented with doing all the mischief he can by himself, but imployes his Ministers and Officers to that purpose; as God, whose Ape he is, imployes his holy Spirits in his works. These Officers are Ma∣gicians and Sorcerers. The former are such as being either im∣mediately instructed by the Devil, or by Books of Magick, use characters, figures, and conjurations, which they accompany either with barbarous and insignificant words, or some perverse∣ly taken out of the Holy Scripture; by which means they make the Devil appear, or else give some answer by sound, word, figure, picture, or other sign; making particular profession of Divination. Sorcerers are their servants, aiming onely to do mischief; and Sorcery is a species of Magick, by which one hurts another by the Devils help. And as the operation of the Devil is requisite thereunto, so is the consent of the Sorcerers and Gods permission, without which one hair falls not from our heads. This consent is grounded upon a compact, either ex∣press or tacite; the former whereof is made by rendring ho∣mage, either immediately to the Evil Spirit, or to the Magician in his name, or by addressing a request to him. Commonly they take an oath of fidelity in a circle describ'd upon the ground; the Devil herein, as in other things, imitating the Deity, which is represented by a Circle. A tacite compact is when one makes use of such means learn'd from a Magician or magical books, known to be such, or sometimes ignorantly. But the most ordinary means which they use in their witchcrafts, are powders, which they mingle with food, or else infect the body, clothes, water, or air. Amongst which the black powders are design'd to procure death; the grey or red, to cause sick∣ness; and the white to cure; either when they are forc'd to it, or in order to some greater mischief; although this virtue depend not any ways upon their colour, nor always upon their qualities. Sometimes they perform their witcheries with words, either threatnings or praises. Not that these have any virtue in them∣selves, any more then straws, herbs, and other things where∣with they bewitch people; but because the Devil is by covenant to produce such or such effects by the presence of these things; shewing himself a faithful performer in certain things, to the in∣tent he may at last deceive them in all.

The Second said, That the charms of Sorcerers differ accor∣ding to the end whereunto they are design'd; some cause sleep,

and that by potions, charmes, and other enchantments; the most usual of which are pieces of a dead body fastned to the house, enchanted candles made of a particular wiek and fat, or of the feet and hands of dead persons anointed with Oyle which the Devil gives them; these they either light up, or place candles at each finger; and so long as this dismal light lasts, they in the house remain in a deep sleep. Other enchantments are to procure Love, some of which act either within or without the body, consisting of what is most sacred in Religion, and most filthy in Nature; (so abominable is this practice, and done in hatred of the Creator) some likewise procure hatred, hinder ge∣neration, make women miscarry, increase their pains of child∣bearing, dry up the milk, breed thornes, pieces of glass and iron, knives, hair, and such other preternatural things, in the body. Of all which magical effects some indeed are real, but the most part are prestigious. The real are when the Devil makes use of natural causes for such an effect, by applying actives to passives, according to the most perfect knowledge which he hath of every things essence and properties; having lost no gifts of Nature by sin, but onely those of Grace. But when the effect is above his power, or God permits it not, then he makes use of delusions to cover his impotence, making appearance of what is not, and hindring perception of what really is. Such was Gyges's ring, which render'd him invisible when he pleas'd; and Pasetus's feasts, from which the guests departed with intollerable hunger; as also the money wherewith he pay'd his Merchants, who found nothing at night in their bags. And that famous Simon Magus, as Saint Clement reports, seem'd to create a man in the Air, render'd himself invisible, appear'd with several faces, flew in the Air, penetrated rocks, turn'd himself into a sheep and a goat, commanded a sickle to reap corn, as it did more alone then ten labourers, and by this means deluded the eyes of all the world, except those of Saint Peter. Such was also, in the dayes of our Fa∣thers, one Trisulcan, who to defame his Curate, made him think that he was playing at cards, whereas he was turning over his bre∣viary, whereupon he flung it upon the ground; and M. Gonin being hang'd on a gibbet, the first presidents mule was seen hang∣ing in his place. Their transports are sometimes real, some∣times imaginary, the Devil keeping them in a deep sleep all the while.

The Third said, That the power of Evil Spirits, whose in∣struments Sorcerers are, is so limited that they cannot either create or annihilate a straw, much lesse produce any substantial form, or cause the real descent of the Moon, or hinder the Stars motion, as Heathen Antiquity stupidly believ'd. Indeed, they are able to move all sublunary things; so they cause Earthquakes, the Devil either congregting Exhalations in its hollownesses, or agitating the Air included therein: Sopater having been put to death for so tying up the winds that no merchandize could be

transported to Byzantium. And Philostratus relates, that Apol∣lonius saw two tubs or tuns among the Brachmans, which being open'd, there arose most vehement winds and rain; and shut again, the Air became calm and serene. Olaus also testifies the like of the Laplanders and Finlanders, who sold winds to Mer∣chants. Moreover, the Devils are call'd by the Apostle, Princes of the Air; they cause Hail, Thunder, Rain, and Fire, to fall where they please; yet alwayes conditionally that God lets the bridle loose to them, as he did when he burnt Job's servants and flocks, and overthrew the house wherein his children were, with a whirl-wind. So in the year 1533. a Sorcerer burnt the whole Town of Silthoc in Sweden to the ground. And as they can ob∣scure, so they can infect the Air, and more easily the waters, stopping them and making them run backwards, which Pliny saith himself saw in his time. They kill Animals by infecting them or their pastures, or else suffocate them, by entring into them; as they did the swine of the Gadarenes. They can also extinguish the plenty of a Country, by transporting the fatness of it elsewhere, not by virtue of the Sorcerers words; much lesse is it by those that they introduce flies, grashoppers, and cat∣terpillars, or other insects, into a place, either assembling them together, or producing them out of congruous matter.

The Fourth said, That the effects of Nature and Art are to be distinguish'd from those of enchantments; for want of which satisfaction some juglers pass for Sorcerers among the vulgar, who are apt to apprehend supernatural means, when they are ignorant of the natural or artificial causes. For removing of which calumny, C. Furius Cresnius being accus'd of having be∣witch'd his neighbours fields, and transported all their fertility into his own, brought his servants, his oxen, and plough, into the Senate, declaring that these were all his charms. More∣over, many times the sterility imputed to Sorcerers proceeds from Gods anger, who makes the Heaven iron, and the Earth brass, for their wickedness. So when a private person arrives to great honour or estate suddenly, though it be by his merit, yet the generality of people, the meanest of which account them∣selves worthy of the same fortune, attribute such extraordinary progresses to the Devil. And yet 'tis a rare thing, if ever heard of, that any one was enrich'd by the Devil; either because he reserves his riches for Antichrist wherewith to seduce the Nati∣ons; or because God doth not suffer it, lest men should for∣sake his service for that of Devils, and the good should be too sorely afflicted by the wicked.

II. Of Amorous Madness.

Upon the Second Poynt it was said, That Love being not very wise of it self, 'tis no hard matter for it to become extrava∣gant; for it cares not for mediocrity, and, consequently, is subject to most tragical accidents. Its Excess is call'd Erotick, or Amor∣ous Madness, which is a species of melancholy deliration, caus'd

by the continual representation of the thing lov'd, which posses∣ses the Phancy of the poor Lovers that they can think of nothing else, and many times forget to eat, drink, and sleep, and the other necessary actions of life. 'Tis different according to di∣versity of temper of brain and body, the degree of the melan∣cholly humour, and the profession of those that are possess'd with it. Hence melancholy persons are fullest of flatuosities and Spi∣rits, and the sanguine, as having most blood, are most subject to it. They are known by their hollow and languishing eyes, ine∣quality of pulse and visage, especially when the party lov'd is spoken of or seen; by which means Galen discover'd the Love∣sickness of a Roman Lady, and Erasistratus that of Antiochus, Se∣leuous's Son, for his Mother in law Stratonice. This distemper is the more dangerous, because 'tis pleasing to those that are tormented with it; and hard to cure, because they fear nothing more then their cure, being fond of their fetters. But being a disease of the Mind, the surest remedy is to divert from the thought of what they love, and to avoid idleness, the mother of lasciviousness. The body also must be conveniently purg'd from its predominant humours, according to which these patients differ; the sanguine are merry, and laugh continually, and of∣tentimes alone, love songs and dances; the cholerick are frow∣ard, and so furious that some have kill'd themselves through the violence of their passions; and Romances are full of such persons. The melancholy are pensive, solitary, and sad; that dull and cold humour hebitating the souls motion. If this di∣stemper proceed from abundance of geniture, remedies must be us'd which extinguish it, as Rue, Purslane, Lettice, Water∣lilly, Willow-leaves, Coriander seeds, Agnus Castus, Camphir, and Mint.

The Second said, As Love is the original, so 'tis the Abridge∣ment of all Passions. You may see these poor Lovers in the same hour love and hate, fly and desire, rejoyce and sorrow, fear and dare, be angry without a cause, and be pacifi'd again with less reason; in brief, never to have their Minds setled, any more then their bodies, in the same posture and complexion alike. Whence many have thought this malady produc'd by enchanted Drinks or Philtres; which may indeed make one amorous, but not determine him to a certain person; besides that these Drinks cannot act upon our Will which is incorporeal, nor captivate its liberty to a particular object; unless the Devil have a hand in the business.

The Third said, That the famousest of all Philtres is Hippo∣menes, powder'd and taken knowingly by the Lover. 'Tis a little black and round piece of flesh, about the bigness of a dry fig, found upon a Colt's fore-head new foal'd; whence it must be taken betimes, else the Mare bites it off, and if she be deceiv'd of it, never affects the foal afterwards; and therefore 'tis call'd by Virgil, Matri praereptus Amor. The same effect is

attributed to the seed of Mares, to a plant call'd Hippomanes, and, by Pliny, to the hair of a Wolfs tail, the fish Remora, the brain of a Cat, and a Lizard; and by Wierus, to Swallows starv'd to death in an earthen pot, the bones of a green Frog excarnated by Pismires, the right parts of which, he saith, conciliate Love, and the left hatred. But to shew the vanity and impurity of these inventions, most Philtres are taken from Animals generated of corruption, excrements, and other filthy and abominable things; and commonly, all rather excite Fury then Love, as appears by many to whom Cantharides have been given; and Caligula, who was render'd mad by a drink of his wife Cesonia; one Frederick of Austria, and the Poet Lucretius, by a Philtre given him by his Wife Lucilia. Love is free, and fixes not by constraint; 'tis not taken in at the mouth, but the eyes, the graces of the body being the most powerful charm, as Olympia Wife of Philip of Macedon acknowledg'd, when being jealous that her Husband lov'd a young Lady that was said to have given him amorous potions, the Queen sent for her, and having beheld her great Beauty, said that she had those Philtres in her self. Now if these gifts of the body be accompany'd with those of the mind, and the party endu'd therewith testifie Love to another, 'tis im∣possible but the affection will become mutual, Love being the parent of Love; whence the Poets feign'd two Cupids, Eros, and Anteros; and Ovid, an intelligent person in this matter, knew no surer course then this, Ʋt ameris amabilis esto.

The Fourth said, Love is a spiritual thing, and consequently produc'd by means of the same nature. Hence an ill report, which is a thing not onely incorporeal, but commonly phanta∣stical and imaginary, extinguishes all Love for a person otherwise lovely as to the graces of the body. And the choice between equal Beauties shews that Love is not founded upon the outside. Wherefore they take the wisest course to get themselves lov'd who use inductions and perswasions, which are the common means to make marriages. By all which it appears, that Amorous Madness is a distemper of the mind, and as such to be cur'd.

CONFERENCE LXXVIII.

I. Why the Sensitive Appetite rules over Reason. II. Whether Speech be natural, and peculiar to Man.

I. Why the Sen∣sitive Appe∣tite rules over Reason.

APpetite is an inclination of every thing to what is good for it self. There are three sorts in Man. First, the Natural, which is in plants who attract their nourishment, and also in some inanimate things, as the Load-stone and Iron; yea, in the Ele∣ments,

as the dry earth covets water, and all heavy bodies tend to their centre. 'Tis without Knowledge and Will, even in Man, for all natural actions are perform'd best in sleep. Secondly, the Sensitive, common to Man and Beast, which some errone∣ously deny to be a humane faculty, because 'tis the seat of the Passions, the enemies of Reason which constitutes Man. But the encounter of it with Reason argues their distinction. Thirdly, the Rational, call'd the Will, which is Mistress of the former two; and besides makes use of Reason, for the knowing of one or more things. And because desire cannot be without know∣ledge, therefore the Sensitive Appetite presupposes the know∣ledge of the Imagination, and the Will that of the Understand∣ing; but the Natural Appetite depends on that of a First Cause, which directs every natural form to its particular good, though it know not the same. Now 'tis demanded, how the Mistresse comes to obey the Servants, notwithstanding the Maxime, That the Will tends to nothing but what is good, which cannot be without truth; and this is not such, unless it be approv'd by the Intellect. It seems to me improper, to say that the Sensitive Appetite prevails over Reason, but rather hinders it by its disturbance from pronouncing sentence, as a brawling Lawyer doth a Judge by his noise.

The Second said, That Reason is alwayes Mistress. For Men govern themselves according to Nature (the universal rule of all things) and, this nature being rational, they cannot be guid∣ed otherwise then the motions of Reason. But some find Reason where other finds none. The Thief accounts riches ill divided, and therefore he may justly possess himself of what he wants; and however he sees evil in the action, yet he conceives more in his necessity, which his Reason makes him account the greatest of all evils. So that comparing them together, he concludes the less evil to be good, and wittingly attempts the crime, not own∣ing it for such whilst he commits it. The same may be said of all other sins, wherein the present sweetness exceeds the fear of future punishment. If Conscience interpose, they either extin∣guish it, or else wholly forbear the action: Unless the Mind hap∣pen to be balanc'd, and then they are in confusion, like the Ass which dy'd of hunger between two measures of corn, not know∣ing which to go to. For 'tis impossible for the Will to be carry'd to one thing rather then another, unless it find the one better and more convenient.

The Third said, 'Tis congruous to nature for the Inferior to re∣ceive Law from the Superior. So Man commands over beasts; and amongst Men, some are born Masters, and others slaves; the Male hath dominion over the Female, the Father over his Chil∣dren, the Prince over his Subjects; the Body receives Law from the Soul, the Matter from its Form, the Angels of Inferior Hierarchies receive their intelligence from the Superior; and the lower Heavens the rule of their motions from the higher; the

Elements are subject to the influences of those celestial bodies; and in all mixts one quality predominates over the rest. Since therefore the Sensitive Appetite is as much below Reason, as a beast below a Man, and the Imagination below the Intellect; ac∣cording to the same order establish'd in Nature, Reason ought alwayes to have the command over it; because having more knowledge 'tis capable to direct it to its end. But through the perversity of our Nature, we more willingly follow the dictates of Sense then Reason, of the Flesh then the Spirit; because the former, being more familiar and ordinary, touch us nearer then Reason, whose wholsome counsels move not our Will so much, which being Mistress of all the faculties, according to its natural liberty, may sometimes command a virtuous action, of whose goodnesse Reason hath inform'd it; sometimes a vitious one by the suggestion of the Sensitive Appetite, which makes it taste the present sweetness and delight, whose attraction is greater then that of future rewards promis'd by virtue to her followers. Hence the Law of the members so prevails over the law of the mind, as some∣times wholly to eclipse the same, as in those who are blinded, and hardned in vice; sometimes it forces it to come over to its own side, and back it exorbitance with Reasons: In some others in whom Reason remains intire, and there is a clear knowledge of the turpitude of an action, yet the Will is so bound and charm'd by the vehemence of the Passions of the Concupiscible and Iras∣cible Appetite, that it follows their motions inspight of the re∣monstrances of Reason. Such was Medaea, who by reason saw the heinousness of her intended murther of her Children; but rage and desire of revenge upon their Father Jason transported her. So it was said of the Athenians, that they knew indeed what was fit to be done, but did it not.

The Fourth said, They who hold that Virtues are not habits distinct from Sciences would not be of this opinion, that we can know good and do evil; for Divinity teaches us, that there is no sin without ignorance; and that as 'twould not be in our power to sin if we had perfect knowledge of the turpitude of Vice, so 'tis impossible for a man to know the beauty of Virtue without lo∣ving her; considering too, that we have in us the seeds of Vir∣tue to which we are naturally lead, inasmuch as it conducts us to the supreme good; seeds which would grow of themselves, were it not for the depravation of our judgement, which being im∣bu'd with the false maxims of the Imaginations which governs all our actions, and judges not of the goodness of things but by sense and common opinion, according to which glory follows vice, and contempt poor Virtue; this is the cause that these seeds of Virtue are stifl'd in the birth. Whereunto greatly conduces the exam∣ple of other vicious persons, who are more numerous then the virtuous. And as Vice is more sensible, so it easily passes into habit, this habit into custom, which being another nature be∣gets a kind of necessity to Vice, which becoming familiar, by

degrees seems most agreeable in respect of the severe aspect of Virtue; men having in this condition Appetites as irregular as those of Child-bearing women, who prefer char-coal, chalk, and ashes, before good Aliments.

The Fifth said, That the contest between the Sensitive Appe∣tite and Reason arises from the diversity of their objects, unto which either of them endeavours to draw the Will. Hence if it happen that Honesty, the object of Reason, be a sensible evil, as to fast, fight, or indure any thing contrary to the sensitive Ap∣petite, whose object is delectable and sensual good, there arises a combat between these two Faculties, in which Reason is many times worsted for want of being well seconded. But when the object of Reason and the Appetite is the same, namely, a sensible good, there is no debate between them. For Reason proposing it to the Will, it spontaneously tends to it, being also lead there∣unto by the Sensitive Appetite. Hence, in Indignation, Com-Passion, and Emulation, which are rational motions accompany'd with anger, grief, and self-love, there is no fight between the Sensi∣tive Appetite and Reason, since in these virtuous motions Reason gives the bridle to those Passions which are the Emissaries of the Appetite. As when the commands of a Master agree with the inclinations of the Servant, he sets upon performing them cheer∣fully. But being it very seldome happens that what is com∣manded by Reason agrees with the Passions of the Appetite, but is commonly difficult and laborious; 'tis not to be wondr'd if this intestine war be frequent, and the Appetite get the better of Reason. Moreover, what is in the Intellect, being transmitted from the Senses, equally revolted against this Faculty their Princess, it still retains something of the grosness of Sensuality; so that these notions of the Intellect, oftimes taking part with the Senses and Sensitive Appetite, Reason cares not to prevail over them; it being also proper to inferiors to have some contrariety to the commands of their Superiors, as is seen in the Celestial Spheres which have a motion opposite to that of the First Mover. Besides that the Empire of Reason over the Appetite is not despotical, or of a Master over a Servant; but political, such as that of a Magistrate over the Citizens, and consequently, half voluntary.

II. Whether Speech be natural and peculiar to Man.

Upon the Seond Poynt Plato's opinion was mention'd, that the Gods having by Epimetheus produc'd all other Animals with some particular gift, made man naked and weak, destitute of all natural aids, and subject to so many miseries that they pitied him, and thereupon order'd Prometheus to give him Reason, Speech, and Hands; the first, to know and contemplate the marvells of the world; the second, to express his thoughts out∣wardly; the last, to put his words and thoughts in execution. Reason not differing from Speech, saving that it is internal; whence 'tis also call'd the word of the mind; and the other exter∣nal.

This external Speech is so excellent, that though it con∣sist but of wind, which is Air striking against the Epiglottis, mo∣difi'd and articulated by the tongue, lipps, palate, and teeth; yet 'tis the interpreter of the reasonable soul, according to whose example 'tis equally receiv'd into all the ears of the Auditors. When this Speech is true, 'tis a sign of the mind's conception, and as natural and peculiar to man as Reason it self, one of whose goodliest priviledges it is. Besides, man being born to live in so∣ciety needed not onely Reason to guide himself, but also Speech, to govern others, which likewise hath more power over Souls, inclining and turning them as it pleases.

The Second said, Some Animals are perfectly mute, as worms and Snails; others render some sound, as Flyes, Grashoppers, though 'tis onely that of their wings; and some have voice, as all perfect animals, amongst whom man hath the particular ad∣vantage of Speech. For sound is a Collision of Air between two solid bodies. Voice is a sound render'd by the mouth of an Ani∣mal to express its affections. But Speech is a voice which signi∣fies by institution, and is call'd a verb if it signifie time; other∣wise a noun. As it signifies by institution 'tis distinguish'd from the voice which is a natural sign, and hath some correspondence with the thing signifi'd. So the hoarse voice of one angry per∣fectly represents the inundation and tempest of the Spirits in this Passion. The lowness and mildness of a sad and afflicted mans voice represents the effect of sadness, which is to compress the Heart and Arteries; for these organs being coarcted, the voice be∣comes more slender; as appears in Women, fat people, chil∣dren, and eunuchs. The Lover's interrupted speech betrayes the inequality of his mind. But words are signes without any refer∣ence to the thing signifi'd, depending onely on the Will of those who first gave names to things. For if they were natural signes, they would be understood by all the world, and be every where the same. But though 'tis not natural, but acquir'd by precepts and use, specially by the hearing, whnce people deaf by nature are also dumb; yea, 'tis very peculiare to man. Wherefore Speech is improperly, figuratively, artificially, or else miraculously ascrib'd to other things; as when The Heavens are said to declare the glory of God, one deep to call on another, &c. When Balaams Ass spoke, 'twas by Miracle. But when Simon Magus's dog spoke to Saint Peter, 'twas by operation of the Devil; as also what is reported of the two Pigeons, the Oke at Dodona, Achilles's Horse, the keel of Argo, and that Elm of the Gymnosophists mention'd by Philostratus to have saluted Apollonius at his arrival, as the River Causus bid Pythagoras good-morrow. But Speech properly belongs onely to man; other creatures are incapable of it, both because they want Reason (which is the principle of it) and organs, which are a tongue, a palate, teeth, and lipps, all rightly proportion∣ated for the articulation of voice; for man's tongue alone is soft, large, moveable and loose; to which qualities those of Pies and Parrots come nearest.

The Third said, A natural thing is either born with us, as sense and motion; or comes afterwards of it self, as laughter, or whereof we are naturally capable and inclin'd to, as Arts and Sciences. In the first and second signification speech is not na∣tural to man, who could not speak without learning, whence the two children caus'd by Psammetichus, King of Egypt, to be nurs'd in a Desart by two dumb Nurses pronounc'd no other word but Bec which they had heard of the Goats. But in the last signification 'tis peculiar to man, who is so inclin'd to it, that were children let alone from their Cradle they would in time make some language by signs, or words. 'Tis to be understood too, that 'tis articulate speech, such as may be written, that is peculiar to man, not inarticulate, which though a natural sign of the affections within, yet cannot properly be called speech, because found also in beasts, whose jargon Apollonius and some others are said to have understood; for hearing the chattering of a Swallow to her companions, he told those that were pre∣sent that this bird advertis'd the others of a sack of Wheat fal∣len off an Asse's back neer the City: which, upon trial, was found to be true.

CONFERENCE LXXIX.

I. What the Soul is. II. Of the apparition of Spirits.

I. What the Soul is.

THe difference of inanimate, living and dead bodies, ma∣nifestly evince the existence of a soul. But its essence is so unknown that Philosophers doubt in what degree of Catego∣ry to put it. For 'tis of that kind of things which are not known by themselves, but only by their effects; as local motion and substance, which is not perceptible but by its accidents. So the outward shape of animated bodies acquaints us with their in∣ward form. For the soul shapes all the external parts after the same manner; as Plants and Animals of the same species have commonly their leaves and members of the same external figure; whereas you scarce find two stones, or other inanimate bodies, of the same shape.

The Second said, That the soul, according to Aristotle, is the first act of a natural body organiz'd, having life in power, or po∣tentially. Meaning by act perfection, which he expresses by the word Entellechie, which signifies to be in its end and form, which two are the same in natural things. 'Tis call'd Form upon ac∣count of its beauty; and divine, from heaven, its original; and 'tis the first of all other second acts, which are produc'd by it, such as all vital actions are. For as in the most imperfect of

beings, Matter, there is a First or remote power, as in water to become fire; another second or next, as in the same water to become air by rarefaction: so in the nature of Forms, the noblest created Beings, there is a First act, the source of all vi∣tal actions, and a Second, comprehending the faculties and fun∣ctions: Now this Soul is not a pure act (as God and Angels are) but an act of the Body, on whom it depends either in its being, and preservation, or else only in operation. Hence Sensitive and Vegetable Souls cease to be upon the change of the disposi∣tions which produc'd and supported them. The reasonable Soul too in some manner depends upon the Bodies disposition as to its operation, not as to its being and preservation, being im∣material and immortal. 'Tis call'd an act of a natural Body, to distinguish it from Machines or Engines which move artificial and inanimate Bodies; organical, because Organs are requisite to its action. It must also have life in power, that is, be able to exercise the vital functions. For want of which a carcase, though organiz'd, yet cannot be said to be animated, no more then Egges and Seed, for want of Organs, although they have life in power.

The Third said, He was of Pythagoras's opinion who call'd it a number, there being nothing in the world wherewith it hath more correspondence and proportion. 'Tis one in its es∣sence; it makes the binary, which is the first number, by its conjunction with the body, and division of its Faculties into the Intellect and Will; the ternary, by its three species of soul, Ve∣getative, Sensitive, Rational; the quaternary, by the four qua∣lities constituting the temper requisite to its introduction into the body; of which four numbers put together is form'd the number ten, whence all others proceed; as from simple Appre∣hension, Enuntiation, Argumentation and Method, which are the four operations of the reasonable soul, whence all its notions proceed.

The Fourth said, 'Tis not enough to say, with the Philoso∣pher, that the soul is an act or perfection, or that by whose means we live; it must be shewn what this act is; whether Sub∣stance or Accident. Pythagoras by calling the soul a number mo∣ving it self, reduces it under Quantity. According to Galen, who acknowledges no other Soul but the Temper, 'tis a Quali∣ty; as also according to Clearchus, who defines it harmony. Of those who believ'd the soul a substance, some have call'd it the purest part of some Element; as Heraclitus, of fire; Anaxi∣menes, of air; and Thales, of water; none, of earth, in regard of its gross matter. Critelaus said 'twas a Quintessence; Democri∣tus, a substance compos'd of round Atoms, and therefore easily movable. Now the soul is a substance (not an accident) because it composes a substance, making with the body a total by it self. Nor is it Quantity, because Quantity is not active; much less a self-moving number, because number is an Entity of Reason,

and nothing is mov'd of it self, but of some other. Nor is it any of the four qualities; which being indifferent of themselves must be determin'd by some form; much less a temper, which is found in all mixts, of which some are inanimate: nor a har∣mony, for this is compos'd of contrarieties, but the soul is simple, and consequently not susceptible of contraries. 'Tis therefore an incorporeal substance; otherwise, were the soul corporeal, there would be a penetration of dimensions in its uni∣on with the body; consequently, 'tis no Element, nor any Com∣pound of them, as Empedocles and Plato phanci'd, upon this ground, that the soul being to judge of all things should there∣fore have all their principles and elements in it self. Which is absurd, for it knows divers things not compos'd of the Ele∣ments, as the Angels and Heavens. So that the soul must be concluded in the number of those things which 'tis easier to af∣firm what they are not then what they are.

The Fifth said, That the soul is a fire, whose centre is Hea∣ven, and God the source, who is call'd by the name of fire, in the Holy Text. Hence life, an effect of the soul, is nothing else but heat, and death cold. Moreover, as fire makes bodies lighter, so living bodies are less heavy then dead. And the He∣brews call man Isch, from the word Esch fire; as the Greeks do Phôs, which signifies light, which is a species of fire, lucid but not ardent; which light appears upon bodies whilst living, and dis-aspears as soon as they are dead. Now the different sorts of souls are produc'd of different lights. Those of Plants are form'd of that of the air; whence they have no sensible heat, as the sensitive have, which are generated of the Sun, which also gives them local motion: rational souls are beams diffus'd from God who inhabits light inaccessible. And as waters ascend as high as their springs, so the souls of Plants exalt themselves into the air, whose mutations they follow; those of Beasts return into the Sun; and those of men are reflected towards God, ha∣ving this common with light, that they perish not, but return to the place of their nativity. Agreeably whereunto, Solomon saith, That there is nothing new under the Sun; since even the forms of things are not new, but only appear in their turn one after another; as when light forsakes our Hemisphere it no more perishes then shadow, but they both make a continual circle, which follows that of the Sun.

II. Of the Ap∣parition of Spirits.

Upon the second Point, it was said, That the perfection of the Universe requires the existence of Intellectual Creatures, such as Angels and Rational Souls. A truth acknowledg'd by Aristotle, who assigns nine Spirits subservient to the First Mover, according to the number of heavens which they are to move; although Mercurius Trismegistus acknowledges but two which hold the Arctick and Antarctick Poles. Which Avicenna also denoted by his Chain of Intelligences. Amongst these Spirits

some are destinated for the preservation of men, as Guardian Angels, call'd by the Apostle ministring Spirits, which were the Genii of the ancients, by which they made their greatest Oathes. Others have continual war with mankind, as the De∣vils. Others animate bodies, as Rational Souls, which after the bodies dissolution are happy or miserable, according as they have done good or evil. As for Angels and Demons, History both sacred and prophane testifies their frequent apparition to men. Daily experience proves the same of the souls of the dead, though some question it. But besides that 'tis presum∣ption to dis-believe all antiquity, which tells us of a Ghost which spoke to Brutus, one which shew'd a Sceleton in chains to Athe∣nodorus the Philosopher; and that of Cleonice which tormented Pausanias (who had slain her) as long as he liv'd; as also the Ghost of Agrippina did her son Nero. The authority of Holy Scripture instructs us of the return of Samuel, Moses and Elias; and the same reason which makes the soul loath to part from its body argues it desirous to visit the same, or the places and persons wherewith it was most delighted. Nor is it more difficult to conceive how a separated soul can move it self, then how it moves the body which it animates, the one and the other being equally incomprehensible.

The Second said, Spectres exist not saving in the Phancy, those who think they see them conceding that they are not pal∣pable, nor beheld alike of all by standers, and men being prone to acquiesce in their own imaginations though misguided by the passions of fear, hope, love, desire; especially children and wo∣men who are more susceptible of all impressions, because their phancies are so weak as to be no less mov'd with its own fictions then real external representations by the Senses. But strong minds are not subject to such delusions.

The Third said, He is too sensual who believes nought but what he sees; for according to this account nothing but acci∣dents which alone fall under the cognizance of sense should be admitted. So the Saduces and all Libertines deny spirits, whilst they appeal only to Sense. Although it be an universal Doctrine of all sober antiquity that there are spirits, and that they appear oftentimes to men in cases of necessity, wherewith, according to Aristotle himself, the souls of the dead friends are affected; a manifest argument of the soul's immortality, which he believ'd only by the light of nature. As Apuleius reports, the Platonists make three sorts of Spirits, First, Demons or Genii, which are souls whilst they animate bodies; Second, Lares or Penates, the souls of such as had liv'd well, and after death were accounted tutelary gods of the houses which they had inhabited; Third, Lemures or Hobgoblins, the souls of the wicked, given to do mischief or folly after death, as they did during their life. Some others, especially the Poets, conceiv'd man compos'd of three parts, Body, Soul, and Shadow, which latter appeared after

dissolution of the two former, the body returning into its ele∣ments, and the soul going either to Heaven or Hell, as the sha∣dow did into the Elysian fields, from whence it had no liberty to return, but only wander'd up and down so long as the body wanted burial.

The Fourth said, We must distinguish between Vision and Apparition. The former is, when we think we behold a thing which afterwards comes accordingly to pass as it appear'd; the latter is, when some visible forms present themselves to us either waking or asleep; and 'tis of three sorts, intellectual, imagina∣ry, and corporeal. The intellectual is, when separated substances insinuate themselves into the mind without borrowing any ex∣ternal shape. The imaginary is, when they imprint some strange forms or species in the phancy, and by this means make them∣selves known to us. The corporeal is, when they present them∣selves to our outward senses. To omit the first, which is rare, and an image of the Beatifical Vision, the imaginary apparition of souls is caus'd when Angels or Demons, according to the quality of the souls, pourtray in our phancy the species and signs of their countenance and personage which they had during life, which appears sad, cover'd with black, whilst they yet in∣dure the punishments of their sins; but cheerful, and in white habit, when they are deliver'd from the same. And although this apparition is imaginary, yet 'tis real too. Thus Judas Mac∣cabaeus knew Onias and Jeremy; Constantine saw S. Peter and S. Paul, and according to the opinion of many Samuel appear'd to Saul, and foretold him of things which were to befall him; though others conceive 'twas a corporeal apparition; which also is much more certain, because souls either appear with their true bodies (although this is very rare too, yea and unbecoming happy souls to rejoyn themselves to putrifi'd carcases) or most commonly assume bodies of air. The cause of which appari∣tions is ascrib'd to the union which is between the soul of the dead person and that of the surviving to whom it appears, whe∣ther the same proceed from consanguinity, or identity of man∣ners, great familiarity and friendship, which seems to make but one soul of those of two friends; so that the soul finding it self in pain either through present or future evils, especially when it sees it self oblig'd to the performance of some vow neglected during life, God for his own glory, the ease of his creature, and the conversion of sinners, permits it to manifest it self by ways most convenient.

CONFERENCE LXXX.

I. Of the Epilepsie or Falling Sickness. II. Whe∣ther there be any Art of Divination.

I. Of the Epi∣lepsie or Fal∣ling Sickness.

THe vulgar Maxime is not always true, That a disease throughly known is half cur'd. For this disease, though known to the most ignorant, is of very difficult cure, and there∣fore was call'd by antiquity the Herculean disease, that is to say, unconquerable; the Sacred disease, because of its dreadful symptoms; and Lunatick, because those who are born either in the Full or New Moon, or during its Eclipse, are troubled with this malady, which hath great correspondence with the mo∣tions of the Planet; 'twas also call'd Morbus caducus, or Falling Sickness, by reason that it makes the person fall to the ground, and Comitialis, because it interrupted Assemblies; lastly, 'tis call'd Epilepsie because it intercepts the functions of the mind and senses. 'Tis defin'd, the cessation of the principal actions, and of sense and voluntary motion, with convulsion, which is not continual, but by internals. The true and proximate cause of it is either a vapour or an humour pricking the membranes of the brain, which endeavouring to discharge the same contracts it self, attracts the nerves to it, these the muscles and parts into which they are implanted; causing hereby those convulsive and violent agitations of the Epilepticks. Sneezing and the hickcock have some resemblance of it, the latter being caus'd by a sharp vapour sent from the stomack or other place by sym∣pathy to its upper orifice which it goadeth with its acrimony, and thereby forces it to contract it self in order to expell the same; the former call'd by Avicenna the lesser Epilepsie, dif∣fering not from the greater, saving in duration, is also caus'd by some vapours pricking the former part of the brain, which con∣tracts it self to expell the same by the nostrils.

The Second said, That the unexpectedness of this malady, and the Patient's quick recovery, may justifie the vulgar for thinking that there is something divine in it. Since nothing amazes us more then sudden uncomprehended alterations. Therefore in Hippocrates days they us'd to make expiations and incantations for this disease, which he derides, saying that the bad Physitians promoted this false conceit, that they might get the more honour for the cure, or be more excusable for not ef∣fecting the same.

The Third said, That the Epilepsie and Apoplexie differ onely in degree, both having the same cause, namely, abundance of gross humours, either phlegmatick or melancholy; which if it wholly fills the brains ventricles, and makes a total obstruction; so that the Animal Spirits, the instruments of voluntary motion

and sense be obstructed, it causes an apoplexie, which is a total abo∣lition of sense and motion in the whole body, with laesion of the ra∣tional faculty. The Heart continues its pulse for some time, till the consumption of what Animal Spirits were in the Nerves, serving to the Muscles for respiration. But if the obstruction be not perfect, and the crass humour over-loads the ventricles, then they contract themselves and all the Nerves which depend upon them; whence comes that universal contraction of the limbs, as one cover'd in bed with too many clothes pulls up his legs, bends and lifts up his knees, to have more air and room under the load which presses him.

The Fourth said, That as the brain is the moistest of all the parts, so it abounds most in excrements, the thinnest of which transpire by the sutures & pores, but the grosser meeting in great quantity in the brain melt its substance into water, which coming to stop the Veins and Arteries hinder the commerce of the spirits; whether this pituitous matter be deriv'd from the paternal or ma∣ternal geniture, or whether the part of seed which makes the brain happen not to be well purg'd in the womb where the rudiments of this malady are first laid; or whether the brain purge not it self afterwards sufficiently by its emunctories, and the scabs usual to Children. Hippocrates saith, this malady cannot begin after twenty years of age, when the constitution of body is become more hot and dry; and many Children are cur'd of it onely by the desiccation caus'd by the alteration of age, seasons, and man∣ner of dyet.

The Fifth said, That a gross humour cannot be the cause of those quick and violent motions of the Epilepsie, nor be collected and dissipated in so short a time as the duration of a Paroxisme. Therefore the cause of it must be some biting and very subtile matter; for no such gross obstructive matter is found in the brain of those that dye of this malady, but onely some traces or signes of some malignant vapour or acrimonious humour, as black spots, a swarthy frothy liquor, an Impostume in the brain, some portion of the Meninx putrifi'd, corrosion of the bone, and such other things evidencing rather the pricking of the brain then stopping of its passages.

The Sixth said, That were the Epilepsie produc'd by obstru∣ction, it would follow that as a total one in an Apoplexie abolishes all sense and motion, so the incomplete one of the Epilepsie should onely diminish, not deprave motion as it doth. So that the Epilepsie should be a symptom like the Palsie or Lethargy, from which nevertheless 'tis wholly different. Nor can it be simply the mordacity or malignity of an humour, since malignant and pestilential Fevers, hot and dry Aliments, as spices, mustard, salt, garlick, onyons, and the lke biting things, cause not this Evil. The truth is, there is a specifical occult quality of the humours parti∣cularly disposing to this disease; the Chymists call it a Mercu∣rial Vapour, (that is, an acid penetrating, and subtile spirit)

a Vitriolike Spirit, a biting and corrosive salt; which makes not men onely, but Quailes, Dogs, Sheep, and Goats, subject to it. And as some things beget this malady by an occult Epileptical quality, as Smallage, Parsly, a goats liver roasted, and stinking smells, as horn, pitch and jet burnt, (whence the Ancients being about to buy a slave, made him snuff up smoak of brimstone, to try whether he were not subject to this disease) so many Ant∣epileptical remedies cure it; but that which proceeds by sympa∣thie from the stomack, or other parts, more easily then that which is idiopathical, and radicated in the brain. As the shavings of man's skull not buried, drunk with water of Teile-tre and Paeony, so contrary to this evil, that it cures the same by being hung about the neck.

II. Whether there be any Art of Divi∣nation.

Upon the Second Point 'twas said, That Man, who alone under∣stands the nature and difference of Time, is more solicitous about the future then about the present, which is but a moment; or the past, which concerns him only historically. Hence arises his ardent desire of presaging to satisfie which, he makes use of every thing in the world. Which is an infallible argument of the vanity of this Art of Divination; because effects cannot be fore-told by all sorts of causes, but onely by those wherewith they have connexi∣on, and wherein they are potentially contain'd, as leaves and fruits are in the seeds; and 'tis receiv'd a Maxime, that when an effect may be produc'd by sundry causes, none of them is the true cause; since we cannot from such an effect proceed to the knowledge of its cause. Now Divination is not taken here, as Hippocrates speaks of it in his Prognosticks, when he saith, that nothing is makes Physitians more resemble Gods, then the fore∣telling of what will befall, and hath already befallen their Pati∣ents. For there he speaks of the predictions of Physick; but here to divine, is to affirm an event whereof we see not any cause or probable sign. For if by seeing a Rain-bow I prognosticate rain, or that a tree will bear fruit when it is well blossom'd, or that a sick person that rests ill the night before the seventh day will have a Crisis, this is not Divination. But if, not knowing a pri∣soner nor his affairs, I fore-tell that he will be set at liberty or not; that an unknown person will be married, and how many Children he will have, or such other things which have no neces∣sary, nor yet contingent causes known to me; this is properly to Divine. Whereby it appears, that there is no Art of Divi∣nation: Art being a body of precepts tending to some profitable end; whereas were Divination certain, it would cause nothing but either despair or negligence; and precepts being of things hapning necessarily or most commonly; that whose cause we know not cannot be known by precepts. And therefore all your Soothsayers, Augurs, Sorcerers, Fortune-tellers, and the like, are but so many Impostors.

The Second said, That Divination, which is a prediction of

future things remote from our knowledge, is of three sorts. Either from God, as Prophecy; from Devils, as Conjuring; or from causes purely natural, which is Prognostication or Conje∣cture. Prophecy is a divine inspiration, whereby one fore-sees and declares remote things infallibly. 'Twas exercis'd at first by the Priests of the Law, with the Ʋrim and Thummim, which were twelve precious stones in the high Priests Ephod; and after∣wards by the Prophets instructed in dreams or visions, whence they were call'd seers. Diabolical Divination depends upon some compact, either tacite or express, with the Devil; who being able to declare such things as have appear'd by some out∣ward act, as the authors of robberies, things lost, or such futu∣rities as depend on natural and necessary causes, but not such as proceed from causes purely free or contingent; the Soothsayers his servants can know no more concerning the same then their Master. This Divination is of two sorts. The first is call'd Daemonomancy, when the Devils themselves give answers out of Caves or Images; sometimes by beasts, men, or most frequently by women, rendring oracles by their mouths, stomacks, or bellies, but for the most part ambiguous and doubtful, for fear of being mistaken. The other is call'd Mangania, or Goetia, the most detestable species of which is Necromancy, which draws answers from the mouths of the dead. Others, more remarkable, are, 1. Hydromancy, or Divination by water, into which they pour drops of oyle, or cast three little stones, observing the sections of the circles which they describe. 2. Lecanomancy, by a basin of water, at the bottom of which the answers are heard, after casting thereinto some plates of Gold and Silver, and precious stones, engraven with certain characters. 3. Gastromancy, by glass bottles full of water, in which a big-belly'd woman, or an innocent child, beholds images. 4. Catoptromancy, by Look∣ing-glasses. 5. Crystallomancy, by crystal cylinders. 6. Dacty∣lomancy, by enchanted Rings, like that of Gyges. 7. Onycho∣mancy, by anointing the nail of a child with oyle or tallow, and holding it towards the Sun they see in it what they demand. 8. Aeromancy, by conjurations of the Air. 9. Coscinomancy, by a sieve, and sizzars. All which species of Divination presume either an express or tacite compact with the Devil. But there were three without compact, 1. Aruspices, who drew conjectures from the entrails and motions of beasts sacrificed, from the figures made by melted wax cast into water, call'd Cero∣mantie, or Daphnomancy, from the crackling of burning Lawrel, Omphalomancy, when by the knots and adhering to the navil and secundines, the Mid-wives fore-tell how many Children the new deliver'd woman shall have afterwards. Amniomancy, fore∣telling the Childs fortune from the red or livid colour of the coat Amnios. Parthenomancy, to discover Virginity by measuring the neck, or drinking powder'd Agat, which she that is no Vir∣gin vomits up again. 2. Augures, or Auspices who divin'd from

birds, beasts, prodigies, and accidents, as Pliny reports of the Servilii, that they had a piece of brass money which they fed with Gold and Silver, and it increas'd when any good was to be∣fall their Family, and diminish'd upon some approaching evil. 3. Unlawful Lots are Cleromancy, which comprehends Homer and Virgil's Lots. Alectriomancy, by a Cock eating corns of wheat lay'd upon the Letters of the Alphabet. Oniomancy, by names; Arithmancy, by numbers. Lastly, Natural Divination, which is Conjecture, either taken from the Stars, as Judiciary Astrology; the Air, and its several dispositions; the Sea, and Trees, as when a Plague is fore-told by the flourishing of Roses or Violets in Autumn. Animals also supply some presages, as Mice running away from an house presignifie its downfall or burn∣ing; and Sparrows delinquishing a Country denote the Pesti∣lence and infection of the Air.

The Third said, That the Soul, being immortal, is also capable of knowing things after the manner of eternity, which being a to∣tal and simultaneous possession of endless life, knows all things at once, things future and past as present; which knowledge is like that of a man who beholds a whole Army at the same time from the top of a Mountain; and that of time, in which things are seen successively, is like that of him who through a hole sees every Souldier of his Army pass by one after another. Where∣fore 'tis no wonder if men who affect nothing so much as eternity, and to be like God, desire to know things as God doth, to whom the future is present. Moreover, this inclination being natural to all persons, they must have a power to exercise it in this life, lest it be in vain. Which is done principally when the Soul is loosned from the Body, as in sleep, extasie, deep contemplation, and the agonies of death, in which dying persons commonly fore∣tell things to come.

CONFERENCE LXXXI.

I. Of Chiromancy. II. Which is the noblest part of the Body.

I. Of Chiro∣mancy.

CHiromancy is Divination by inspection of the hand, and consideration of its substance, quantity, quality, and other accidents, whereby the same affords indications of things past or to come. It was practis'd by Sylla and Caesar, this latter having by it discover'd the false Alexander, who pretended himself Herod's Son, from the true, And an old Chiromancer of Albert of Mirandola, Cousin to the great Picus, fore-told the Duke of Nevers, Nephew to Lewis XII. being at Carpi in Italy, ready to fight with the Vice-roy of Naples, that he should win the

battle, but lose his own life, as it came to pass. So Paulus Jovius relates, that Antiochus Tibertus of Cesena, by this means, adver∣tis'd Guido Balneo of the death which befell him by one of his familiars; and that Horatius Cocles fore-told Lucas Gauricus that he should be put to death by John Bontivoglio Prince of Bononia. Many having seen Criminals lead to the gallows have observ'd that the two extremes of the line upon the last joynt of the thumb terminated at the root of the nail, which is taken for the sign of the halter; as when this line reaches not the nail, but on one side, it presages onely danger of hanging. Now as diversi∣ty of outward shapes distinguishes species, so it doth also indivi∣duals, especially that of the hand, the instrument of every one's fortune, and the most temperate part of the Body; whence the hollow of it is accounted the organ of Touching.

The Second said, That the hand, the subject of Chiromancy, is compos'd, as all other organical parts, of three dissimular parts, the wrist, palm, and fingers. In the palm the Chiroman∣cers consider the lines and eminences or hills. The lines are those parts which variously divide the hand, the five chief of which are, the line of the wrist, the line of life, the natural mean, the liver-line, and the table-line. The wrist-line is that which di∣vides the hand from the arm, and is commonly double, some∣times trebble and quadruple. The line of life, or of the heart, begins at the bottom of the tumour under the fore-finger, and ends at the wrist-line, having sometimes another line paralle, call'd the sister of the line of life. The natural mean, or line of the head, begins near the line of life under the fore-finger, and passes over-thwart the hand to the hill of the Moon, or pommel of the hand, which line is thwarted by another, call'd the liver or stomack-line; and these two lines, with the line of life, form a triangle, whose base is the liver line, call'd the triangle of Mars; which appears not in their hands whose middle line terminates at the table line, or line of fortune, which begins under the hill of Mercury, at the bottom of the little finger, and ends under the fore-finger with one, two, or three branches. 'Tis call'd the table line, because the space between it and the middle line represents the table; whence 'tis call'd the table of the hand, and line of fortune, because it affords the certainest tokens of good or bad fortune. The hills or risings of the hand are seven, according to the Planets to which they are attributed, namely, the mount of Venus, under the thumb, indicating Love; the mount of Jupiter, under the fore-finger for Honours; that of Saturn, under the third, or middle finger, for felicities or misfortunes; that of the Sun, under the fourth, or ring-finger, for Riches; that of Mercury, under the little finger, for Arts and Sciences; that of the Moon, which is in the pommel of the hand, for afflictions and maladies of the mind; lastly, the mount of Mars in the foresaid triangle, compriz'd under the lines of life, the middle line, and the liver line, denotes war-like exploits. And because the four

principal fingers have twelve joynts which make as many sinu∣osities; therefore the Chiromancers attribute to each of them a sign of the Zodiack, and to each finger a season of the year; as to the fore-finger the Spring, and to its three joynts the three signes of that season, assigning the uppermost joynt to Aries, &c. By which signes 'tis known in what moneths the effects fore-told by the lines of the hand will happen.

The Third said, That Chiromancy is a Conjectural Art, not founded upon indubitable principles of eternal truth, but upon many experiences, from which the general precepts of this Art are deduc'd. The chief whereof are, that the rectitude, con∣tinuity, and lively colour of the lines, and the eminence of the mounts are good signes, as also the branching of these lines up∣wards towards the mounts of the fingers; on the contrary, their obliquity, intersection, livid or blackish colour, and branch∣ing downwards, are of ill augury. The wideness of the ta∣ble, and the angles of the triangle of Mars well shap'd, de∣note good. Many lines cutting the chief which are in the palm of the hand, shew a man intangled in affairs. The lines of the wrist signifie that the person is to live so many times twenty years. A double line of life is a sign of one very fortunate. The lines which cross it are so many misfortunes, and their breaking shews death or dangerous sickness. One o in it denotes the loss of an Eye, and two oo total blindness, which Johannes de Inda∣gine saith he found true in many, and by his own experience. Crooked lines upon the table line threaten water. 'Tis an ill sign, when one of the chief lines, especially the table line, is wanting; and when it hath inci••ions, 'tis a mark of various fortune. Lines between the table line and middle line are so many diseases, but not mortal. And infinite such other rules. The nails also are con∣sider'd by the Chiromancers, as to their colour, shape, largeness, and little spots, among which the round and white denote friends, the others ill-willers.

The Fourth said, That 'tis requisite to prediction by the hands that nothing be on them but what is natural. And if the lines of one hand suffice not, recourse must be had to the other; and if both agree, the effects signifi'd by them are less doubtful. When they differ, these of the left hand are chiefly taken notice of, both because 'tis nearest the heart, and because 'tis less dis∣figur'd by working. Yet 'tis to be remember'd, that as one sign evidences not the constitution, and few diseases have one certain pathognomonical sign, so neither is an effect to be infer'd from one line so and so, but from many together; although they are commonly fallacious too, unless the inclinations likewise be known by Physiognomy and Astrology.

The Fifth said, All effects are either natural or free; those come from a necessary and infallible, which hath no affinity with the lines of the hand erroneously alledg'd to signifie the same; and these being from the Will cannot be caus'd by a concur∣rence

of lines, differing either fortuitously, or according to the various situations of the bones, or several foldings of the child's hands in his mothers belly, or by different exercises, and variety of Climates; they of hot Countries having scorch'd skins, and more lines otherwise configurated then Northern people; and Artisans, then Courtiers and idle people. And so there would need different rules of Palmistry, according to Countries and qualities, which is absurd. The truth is, if any thing may be conjectur'd, 'tis from the parts, which contribute something to what they are signes of. So a large fore-head may be the note of good capacity, because it shews that the Ventricles of the Brain are large; and a bony and sinewy man is with reason judg'd strong. But the hand can afford no indication, if you except its largenesse or thicknesse, by proportion of which, with the other parts that are not seen, one may judge of its strength. 'Tis there∣fore a fallacious Art which takes that for a cause and a sign which is nothing lesse.

The sixth said, Chiromancy is of two sorts, Physical or Astro∣logical. The former is grounded upon the same principles with Physiognomy, and is a part of it, discovering by the several ac∣cidents of the hand its own temper with that of the whole body, and consequently, the manners and inclinations. Hence the Chiromancers affirm, with great probability, that those that have thick hands have the other parts which are unseen alike, and consequently, a dull wit; and so on the contrary. But that which is purely Astrological, and is founded upon imaginary principles, seems not only faulty▪ but very ridiculous, yea, and pernitious too; and therefore is prohibited by Laws both Hu∣mane and Divine.

II. Which is the noblest part of the Body.

Upon the Second Point 'twas said, That man's body being a structure compos'd of many parts, not onely similary, as in plants and stones, but organical, destinated to each action, which being their end, will also be the measure and standard of their noble∣nesse; as Officers and Ministers of State or Family are esteem'd according to their imployment. Now an Animals noblest action is Life; and therefore the Heart, the author thereof, and source of heat and spirits, is the noblest of all parts. Moreover, Ari∣stotle sayes, it lives first and dyes last, and is in the little world what the Sun is in the great, imparting light and motion to all the parts of the body, as the Heavens do to all sublunary things. Therefore many Animals want other parts, but none a heart, which is so absolutely necessary that its least wound is mortall.

The Second said, Whether Nobility betaken from Antiqui∣ty or necessity, the Liver is the noblest of all. For the Animal at first lives the life of a Plant, and so needed nourishment first, the supplying of which, being the Livers office, it is therefore form'd before any of the entrails. Nor could we exercise our

senses or reasonable actions, if we were not nourish'd; the fun∣ctions of all faculties ceasing as soon as the Livers provision is spent. Yea, no animal action can be perform'd without spirits, the matter of which is blood elaborated in the Liver. Which as 'tis the cause of the four humours, and consequently, of Health or Sicknesse; so 'tis the seat of Love, the noblest of all the passions.

The Third said, As much nobler as the species is then the In∣dividual comprehended under it, so much are the parts serving to its conservation nobler then others which conserve onely the particular. Therefore Galen reckons them among the principal parts. They serve to enliven the body, whose temper, colour, beauty, voice, and other qualities, their deprivation not only de∣stroys, but also changes the manners of the Mind, and extinguishes Courage, as appears in cocks when castrated. Add hereunto, that they are hardest to be tam'd, and therefore most noble.

The Fourth said, That Generation being common to men, not onely with beasts, but also with plants, being an action of the natural faculty, it cannot be the noblest action of man; but rather the Understanding, which being exercis'd in the brain, the seat of the Rational Soul, this without dispute is the noblest of all; whence 'tis call'd Heaven by Homer, a divine member by Plato, and generally accounted the mansion of wisdom, and temple of divinity, which appears chiefly in the structure of its rete mirabile, labyrinth, and ventricles. Moreover, all the parts were made for the brain. For man was born to understand, and the intellectual faculty holds its seat in the brain. To un∣derstand well, it needed phantasmes and species, which were to be receiv'd by the senses plac'd for that purpose in the head: and to judge of the diversity of sensible objects, it ought to have lo∣cal motion; and, in order thereunto, muscles, tendons, nerves, and bones. These actions of the Understanding are perform'd by help of the Animal Spirits, the matter whereof are the vital of the Heart, as the matter of these are the natural; whence learned men are commonly lean and unhealthy, because their natural spirits go to the brain, instead of being carry'd to the parts, in order to nutrition.

The Fifth said, That (to omit Aesop's opinion, who pre∣fer'd the tongue before any other part, and found it most powerful to do either good or evil) the hand seem'd to him as much more excellent then the brain, as the active is to be estima∣ted above the contemplative. Therefore Aristotle calls it the Organ of Organs, and 'tis the symbol of faith, strength, and ci∣vility; whence remain still the termes of kissing the hands.

CONFERENCE LXXXII.

I. Which is most powerful, Art or Nature. II. Whe∣ther Wine is most to be temper'd in Winter, or in Summer.

I. Which is most power∣ful, Art or Nature.

THe power of Nature and Art cannot be better judg'd then by their opposition; yet how should any be be∣tween them, whilst Art can do nothing without Nature? For if the hand be off of Industry, 'twas Nature that made it a hand. If the Sword be valued for the Art which fashion'd it, and brought it into a condition to give Law to him that hath none; 'tis to the Iron produc'd by Nature in the Mines that it owes its matter. And thus making the same induction through all disciplines, 'twill be found that they cannot be imagin'd without Nature; not Logick, without natural reason; nor Grammar, without speech; nor Speech, without a tongue; nor writing, without ink and paper; nor these without the mat∣ter whereof they are made, no more then a building without stones, morter, or other materials. Therefore when Art offers to compare with Nature, 'tis as if a child upon a Gyant's neck should therefore think it self taller then he; whereas it hath no advantage but what it borrows from the Gyant which up∣holds it.

The Second said, That actions being the rule whereby to mea∣sure the excellence of the Agents, and being themselves deter∣min'd by their end, which alone sets value upon them; Nature is therefore more excellent then Art in that it hath a nobler end in its actions, and ordinarily attains the same which Art can ne∣ver do. For Nature, as the internal principle of motion and rest of that wherein it is, produces all substantial forms, and is the cause of all generations and natural motions; in the continual revolution of which is seen an unparallel'd order, illustriously testifying the wisdom of Nature who governs them, and who ne∣ver fails to produce a plant or an animal when the matter is rightly dispos'd. Whereas Art is only an external cause, giving nothing but shape and outward shew to its works, which in∣deed in some manner imitate those of Nature, which is the end of Art, but are never so perfect, no Painter having ever made a bunch of grapes, or a man, so well as Nature, because he re∣presents only the surface and some few other external accidents, but is far from being able to express the essence and substantial forms of these natural bodies which it attempts to imitate. Moreover, Nature frames all parts of her works together (as in the formation of man) though grosly and in a small volume, and afterwards makes the same augment and move together; but Art makes the parts of its work successively, the foundati∣on

before the walls, these before the roof, the rough hewing before the last hand; and motion excited by artifice is violent, yea more in some parts of the Engine then in others.

The Third said, That to doubt whether Art be more power∣ful then Nature, is to doubt whether two be more then one, or three then two. For Art presupposes Nature perfected. And as that is the strongest animal which can bring others under its laws, so being Art always subdues Nature, it must be the more potent. Our nature is inclin'd to evil, but the precepts of Di∣vinity, yea, and of moral Philosophy too, have no other aim but to correct its defects, and overcome its perverseness, both which are so happily effected, that not only S. Paul professes, I live, yet not I, but Christ in me; but also the most excellent Physiognomist was mistaken in his judgement of Socrates from his aspect. Nature leads man to follow his brutish and sensual appetite, and to make use of every thing which complies there∣with; but Art coming to rectifie it civilizes him, and teaches him to restrain his concupiscences, to fast rather, for conscience or health, then incur eternal damnation in the other life, and diseases in this. And experience shews how far Art gets the mastery of Nature, when a little man dextrous at his weapons easily overcomes a stronger who hath onely the help of nature. The horse, dog, birds of prey, and other ani∣mals capable of discipline, do every thing which man teaches them much better then they would do of themselves. Com∣pare but the discourse of an ignorant with that of a learned per∣son, the carriage of a Clown with that of a Courtier, the heaviness of a strong Lubber with the dexterity of a practis'd Champion. In the Mechanicks, a Child with an artificial Screw will lift up a greater burden then two Oxen can carry, and these two Oxen will draw a load by the common artifice of Carts, which ten other Oxen cannot bear upon their backs. An Army of 20000 naked Savages hath been often defeated by 200 men arm'd with Swords and Arquebushes. In brief, compare the weakness of all things at their beginning, and before time has brought them to perfection by a series of new precepts, whereof Arts are com∣posed; and you will see that Art as much surpasses Nature as Bread doth Acorns, or Wheat it self, before Art hath fitted it to our use.

The Fourth said, That duration is the measure of every thing's excellence; whence the Proverb teaches us to consider the end. Bubbles of water and sope blown into the air look very handsome; wait but a little and they are nothing. So are all artificial things compar'd to natural. As this gave them beginning, so it sees them end, overcomes and survives them; that a thing perishes it hath from art; that it lasts more or less, it hath from nature; as writing engraven in Marble is of longer continuance then that which is trac'd upon sand, and yet 'tis one and the same writing. But sooner or later, every thing re∣turns

to its first principles; and what was borrow'd of nature must be paid back to her again. We raisepalaces up to the clouds; Nature endures it with some violence, their gravity resisting the most it can, till at length she seems to yield, and to be tam'd by art. But inquire news of them in future ages, and they will tell you that Nature never rests till she hath return'd that to the ground which was taken out of it, and this without Tools or Instruments. Art squares trees which were round, whence a Spartan Lady ask'd, whether trees grew square: leave them to the air, they become round, their corners rotting first of all. Physitians observe, that simple medicaments, as the most natural, are the most effectual, and such as have least artifice are most active. Whence the most expert laugh at that hotch-potch of herbs, and other ingredients, wherewith quack-salvers fill their receipts, acknowledging that the more you have in compounding a medicine, the lesse intentions you obtain the same, one quality resisting and abating the edge of another. And, in removing of diseases, they hold for a Maxime, that 'tis Nature alone which do's the cure. Moreover, the birth of a child is a pure work of Nature, and she that leaves her to do the business is the most expert to bring Women to bed. In brief, all good Crises must be natural, every thing that is artificial is directly contrary thereunto. What adoptive Son hath so tender an af∣fection to his parents as a natural one? or what nurse suckles anothers with so good a heart as her own child? which was the reason of the Gardiner to the Philosopher, who ask'd him, why bad herbs grew better of themselves, then others transplanted, and cultivated by Art. When we would signifie an honest man, we say he is of a good nature; when a knave, that he is full of artifice. Men may disguise their manners and inclinations, but cannot dissemble Nature; a sanguine, cholerick, or melancho∣ly person, alwayes discover their nature through all the artifices and hypocrisies of art. Preach to an intemperate, ambitious, or otherwise tainted with some vice as natural to him as to the lame to halt, he will possibly restrain himself for some time, but presently return to his first habit.

The Fifth said, Nature being taken for every thing com∣pounded of matter and form, and Art for Humane Wit, which applies them to its own use, this must be so much more excellent then that, as it gives perfection to the same, by introduction of an artificial form besides its natural. Marble, of no price in the mine, yet turn'd into the statue of an old woman becomes highly valuable. The Dragon in the Tapistry is as agreeable to behold as the natural one would be terrible. And even of things profitable, a dish of fruits well drawn is more esteem'd then a hundred natural. And who prizes not a Table, Cabinet, or other moveables, more then so much wood, a glasse then the ashes it is made of. 'Twere to accuse all Antiquity of error, and unprofitably inventing and increasing Arts, to prefer the rude∣nesse

and simplicity of Nature before them; which teaching us from the birth to defend our selves by arts against all defects of the body, therefore tacitely yields them the preheminence.

The sixth said, That the meaness and imperfection of the matter sets off the excellence of the workman, when his work borrows all its noblenesse from its form which he gives it, and not from its matter. Hence God, the most perfect of all Agents, needed no matter wherewith to make all his works; Nothing being a sufficient material object of his Omnipotence. Nature, a subor∣dinate and lesse perfect Agent then God, makes all her works of the First Matter, which is not a pure nothing; nor yet a perfect Entity, but on Entity in power, and as Aristotle saith, almost nothing. But Art can make nothing but by the help of natural and perfect bodies, compos'd of matter and form, which it onely divides or conjoyns; as when the Ar∣chitect builds a House he joynes many stones, pieces of wood, and other perfect bodies together; and the Statuary pares off the gross pieces of Marble till he brings forth the resemblance of what he would represent. Wherefore as much as God is above Nature, so much is Nature above Art.

II. Whether Wine is most to be temper'd in Winter or in Summer.

Upon the Second Poynt 'twas said, They who impute most diseases to the use of Wine, because the Eastern people who use it not are, free or less troubled with maladies, will conclude (as he did who marri'd a very little Woman, as the least Evil) that Wine most qualifid is best, in case it cannot be wholly let alone. But the Question will still remain, in which season, Winter or Summer, it is most to be mix'd. Now there being less heat, and more humidity in the body during Winter, by reason of the outward cold, and closing of the pores, it seems that Wine should be taken unmixt in this season. For being heat consists in a proportion of the qualities, that which exceds must be cor∣rected by its contrary, and the weak strengthened; as they that would walk upright on a rope, must turn their counterpoize to the side opposite to that whereunto they incline.

The Second said, That in Summer the Wine should be more temper'd, because then the natural heat is least, as Caves are cold in Summer and hot in Winter. Whence Hippocrates said, that the bowels are hotter in Winter and Spring, whence people have then better stomacks; the capacities being enlarged by the dila∣tation of heat, and sleep likewise longer, through the abun∣dance of vapours rising from the blood, which is made in greater quantity when the natural is strong then when it is weak. More∣over, bodies are more healthy in cold weather then in hot, which causing great dissipation of heat and spirits, the losse cannot be better repair'd then by unmixt Wine, whose actual coldness be∣ing overcome by our Nature, its potential heat is reduc'd into act, and fortifies ours, adding also its volatile spirits to our spirits, as old regiments are recruited by new levies.

The Third said, That the best food being assimilated and least excrementitious, as Wine is in all seasons, it ought not to be mix'd either in Summer or Winter, aqueous Wine making ma∣ny serous excrements which cause obstructions; whereas pure Wine is good in Winter to assist the natural heat, assaulted by the outward cold, and to digest the crudities commonly gene∣rated during this season; and in Summer to support the lan∣guishing spirits by supplying new matter. But if the necessity of a hot distemper require mixture of water, I would have it pour'd into the wine two hours before it be drunk, that so fer∣mentation may in some measure turn the water into the nature of the wine, and the encounter of these two enemies may be rather in a strange Country then in ours.

The Fourth said, 'Twas not without mystery that the Poets feign'd Bacchus new come forth out of Jupiter's thigh with an inflam'd countenance, to have been deliver'd to the Nymphs to wash him, and that the seven Pleiades, whose rising denounces rain, had the principal charge of him; and that the Mytholo∣gists represent this God of Wine follow'd by a company of mis∣chievous demons call'd Cabals, the chief of which they name Acrat, which signifies pure wine; hereby intimating the disor∣ders it causes when its fumes are not abated with water. More∣over, when Amplychion, King of Athens, had first put water into his wine, and every one by his example, a Temple was built in the City to Bacchus erect or standing; intimating that as mere wine causes reeling, so temper'd makes one walk upright. The truth is, unmix'd wine is always dangerous, filling the brain with hot and pungent vapours, which water allays and gives a temper to, sutable to our natural heat, which is mild and gen∣tle; whereas these spirits are of themselves igneous, as the burn∣ing of Aqua-vitae testifies. But 'tis less hurtful to drink pure wine in Winter then in Summer, when the natural heat be∣ing igneous and encreas'd by the outward would turn into a distemper by the adventitious heat of wine, which, on the contrary, in Winter counter-checks the outward coldness of the air.

The Fifth said, If we believe the Poet Orpheus, who advises to drink unmix'd wine twenty days before the rising of the Dog∣star, and as many after, then wine must not be temper'd in Sum∣mer; a custom practis'd still in Italy, where in the heats of Sum∣mers they drink the strongest and most delicious wines without water. Moreover, people eating less in this hot season should therefore drink the more pure wine, as more nourishing. Be∣sides that the aqueous crudities of fruits eaten in Summer is corrected by the heat of wine.

The Sixth said, That regard is herein to be had to every one's constitution; phlegmatick, old men, and such as have cold sto∣macks, may drink wine without water, as also those that have Fames Canina: but the cholerick and young must temper it if they

do not wholly abstain, yet always having regard to custom, and the nature of wines; amongst which, if we believe the Germans, their wine cannot endure water, no more then the water of the Island of Tenos can endure wine.

CONFERENCE LXXXIII.

I. Of Baths. II. Whether the Wife hath more love for her Husband, or the Husband for his Wife.

I. Of Baths.

'TIs not in vain that Physitians examine the nature of the places wherein man's body is contain'd. For the ambi∣ent air, water, or earth (as in Dropsies) hath great influence upon the same. Now Baths are either total, for the whole bo∣dy, or partial, for some members, such as the Half-bath, where the head, breast, and arms, are remaining out of the water; fo∣mentations, pumpings, and the like. This Bath was in such request among the Romans, that their Emperors were at great care and charge in building them, not only at Rome, but even in this City of Paris, where the Emperor Julian made one. Its benefits are great when us'd in due time and place, and its ef∣fects different according to its divers composition. For it al∣ways moistens, more or less; but it heats, cools or tempers, ac∣cording as 'tis hot, cold, or temperate. It opens the pores, by removing the scurfe which stop'd them, and dilating them by its heat, whereby it insinuates into the inward parts, especially the muscles, which by this means it swells up, and by colliquating the humour corrects their dryness, and repairs the emptiness intro∣duc'd thereinto by lassitude. Whence us'd moderately it takes away weariness, and repairs strength; but continu'd too long, and being hot, it draws forth the strength of the party too much, and causes faintings; a cold Bath cools the parts it touches, but by accident and consequence heats them, by obstructing the pores and passages of the spirits. Hence they that come out of this Bath are very hungry; and Hippocrates saith, that the Con∣vulsion is cur'd by casting cold water upon the shoulders, which moves nature to expell its enemy. So in fainting nothing reco∣vers the spirits and revives the heart more then cold water cast on the face where the skin is thinnest, and the spirits abound most.

The Second said, That those at Rome anciently pass'd through three places. In the first, where the air was well warm'd, like the Stoves of Germany, they put off their clothes. In the second, a little more heated by fire underneath or on the sides, they sweat; the water which steam'd from the heated

vessels sticking to their naked bodies, and being thence gently wip'd off, all the filth was brought▪ off with Curry-combs of Ivory. Here also they were anointed with Oyle, either before the Bath of warm water (when they would not relax the pores, nor evaporate the spirits, as in those that newly reco∣ver a sickness, or are exhausted by labour) or after the Bath, to hinder the sweat which follows. For the oyl stops the pores of the skin, and so hinders transpiration. In the third place was the water luke-warm, or something more, where they bath'd them∣selves, afterwards plung'd into cold water or a little less hot, which was on the side of the same place, to fortifie the relaxed members. Lastly, they return'd to the second place, there to sweat and be rub'd, repassing by the first, to avoid the sudden mutation from hot air to cold; the danger of which Alexander found when being too hot he went into a river, falling into shi∣verings and convulsions, wherewith he had perish'd had it not been for his Physitian Philip. Whereby it appears that a Bath profits or hurts, according as it is well or ill administred, and that our wise Ancestors were more circumspect in it then we; which possibly is the cause why it was in so frequent use, that Galen speaks of divers of his time who commonly bath'd them∣selves twice a day; the good which we receive from any thing being the inducement to the frequent practice of it.

The Third said, That unless upon urgent necessity and a me∣dicinal account, bathing is not only superfluous but very hurt∣ful to men. For besides that 'tis unnatural (not water but air being man's element) it opens the body, and makes it susceptible of any bad qualities of the air; for which reason 'tis forbidden in time of pestilence. For as Oke lasts longer then Fig-tree, because 'tis more solid, so soft bodies are more unhealthy and short-liv'd then firme, as those of peasants are, who arrive to ages, without experience of any of those delicacies. For so ma∣ny conditions are requisite to a Bath, that 'tis commonly more hurtful then profitable. It must be vari'd according to the di∣versity of seasons, and complexions, which Galen confesses he un∣derstood not. And one and the same day will be of different temper, as it happens in Autumn; so that one and the same Bath will be proper and not proper. Besides, 'tis prescrib'd to be as hot as milk from the Cow, which it cannot be for two mo∣ments, but is immediately alter'd by the ambient air. If it be said that the body suffers well the same variations of the air. I answer that it is not expos'd naked to the air, whose excessive qua∣lities are abated by our clothes. Otherwise, every one would be in∣convenienc'd therewith, unless he were accustom'd to it from his birth, as the Savages are. Besides, the air adheres not to the skin, and so makes but a transient impression. It must be us'd after dige∣stion, & we know not when this is ended; the body being purg'd, which it seldom is as it ought; otherwise it excites fluxions in such as are full-bodied, and subject to catarrhs. It fills the head

with vapours; it relaxes the nerves and ligaments, so that some have never felt the Gout but after bathing, It kills the infant in the womb, even when it is too hot. 'Tis an enemy to those that have Tetters or Erysipelas, to fat and full bodi'd persons, and generally to all that are not accustom'd to it; as if this ele∣ment were not innocent, but as the most mischievous things are when made familiar by custom. As for bathing in rivers, those that swim therein, as most do, strain themselves more then do's them good, besides the incommodities which they receive from the air whereunto they are expos'd. So that if you add the loss of time to the rich, the charge to the poor, and incommo∣dity to all, you will not wonder that most men abstain from them, and that Seneca chose no fitter place to dye in then a Bath.

The Fourth said, That a Bath being one of the things call'd by the Physitians not-natural, that is, whose right or ill use hurts or do's good, no more distinction need be us'd in it then there is in eating, drinking, sleeping, waking, and such other things. But the advantages of a Bath rightly us'd have none equal to them. First it cleanses the body, and gives a man a new skin; opens the pores, to let out the fumes and steams of the vessels, which also are temper'd by the water's sweet and mild quality. It corrects dryness, the enemy of life, which consists in humi∣dity, reducing the same to a just temper; whence lean and he∣ctical persons receive more benefit from it then any others. Moreover, Nature hath provided for other habits and com∣plexions by the various mixtures of mineral-waters, having compos'd hot baths of Salt, Bitumen, Sulphur, and other Mi∣nerals, through which they pass; which strengthen the nerves and joynts, cure Palsies, as sea-water doth scabs: But bathing chiefly regards fresh water. It takes away weariness, tempers the heat of weather, causes sleep, and is one of the most inno∣cent pleasures of life. But he that would know all the commo∣dities of it must have try'd what ease it gives in the greatest pains, especially in Colicks of all sorts, whence 'tis call'd Para∣dise by those that are tormented therewith. Wherefore to take away bathing, is to reject one of the best remedies in Phy∣sick, and one of the greatest benefits of life.

The Fifth said, That the Ancients, having not yet the use of li∣nen to free themselves from the soil contracted upon their bodies, chiefly in wrastling and exercising naked upon the sand, were oblig'd to the use of Bathes, which became so easie and of so little cost to the multitude, that they paid but a farthing a time; whence Seneca calls the Bath rem quadrantariam. And it cost them nothing after Antoninus Pius had caus'd a stately Bath to be built for the publick, as Capitolinus reports. But at length their use grew into abuse; after women came to bathe themselves with men, the Censors were fain to forbid them, un∣der penalty of Divorce, and loss of Dowry.

II. Whether the Wife hath more love for her Hus∣band, or the Husband for his Wife.

Upon the second Point, it was said, That the Poet of our time who said, that he would marry his Mistress that so he might love her less, imply'd thereby that we less love what is al∣ready obtain'd. But he determines not the Question, who is soonest weary of loving, or who loves most, the Husband or the Wife; where love must be distinguish'd from friendship, being a passion of the Concupiscible appetite tending towards sensible good, apprehended such by the Phancy, whereas friendship is a most perfect vertue leading the will to honest good, known such by the Understanding; the former many times being op∣posite to the latter, inasmuch as the Passions of the Appetite di∣sturb Reason, and by excess rise up to jealousie; whereas the latter can have no excess; for the more it is excessive the more it deserves the name of friendship. 'Tis therefore necessary that the woman, whose phancy is stronger and intellect less per∣fect, have more love and less friendship; the husband, on the contrary, more friendship and less love. Which extends also to children, whom the mothers love with more passion and ten∣dernss, but the fathers more solidly; which affection may serve for a proof and evidence of that in question.

The Second said, That the praise of constancy in love is due to man, whose mind is more perfect, and consequently less mu∣table. And whereas love proceeds from knowledge, it will follow that men who understand more do also love more. And want of affection would be more blameable in the man then in the woman, as presupposing his defect of judgement in be∣ing mistaken in his choice; men usually chusing their wives, and the wives only accepting of the husbands who address to them. For there's great difference between the liberty our will hath to be carried to what object it pleases, and only the turn of ap∣proving or rejecting what is offer'd to it. So that the woman who loves not her husband may say, that she was mistaken but in one point, namely, in accepting what she should have re∣fus'd; but the husband in as many as he had objects in the world capable of his friendship. Besides, 'twould be shameful to the husband, the head and master of the family, to be infe∣rior to his wife in the essential point which renders their marri∣age happy or unfortunate. And Gracchus's choosing death that his wife Cornelia might live, (having slain the male of two Ser∣pents whom he found together, upon the Augur's assuring him of the said effect, as it came to pass) shews that we want not ex∣amples for proof of this truth; as that of Semiramis, who ha∣ving the supream authority committed to her but for one day, caus'd her husband who had granted the same, and been indul∣gent to her all his life, to be put to death; and the 49 daugh∣ters of Danaus, who all slew their husbands in one night, prove the same.

The Third said, That amity being begotten and encreased by

necessity, the woman, as the weaker, hath more need of support and protection from the man, and so is more oblig'd to love him; and therefore nature hath providently implanted in her a greater tenderness and inclination to love, because all her hap∣piness depends on her husbands good or ill treatment of her, which is commonly according to her love to him. To which end also the woman is endu'd with beauty and a more delicate body, and consequently more apt to give and receive love then men, whose exercises require a temper more hot and dry, whereby to undergo the travels of life. And if examples be needful, the contest of the Indian wives who should cast her self into her husband's funeral fire, together with whatever most precious thing she hath, in testimony of greatest love, suffices to prove this conclusion; no men having ever been seen to burn for love of their wives. Yea, when anciently one man had abundance of wives (a custom still practis'd amongst the Turks) 'twas impossible for the husband to have as much love for his wives as they had for him, being in all ages contented with one alone, and consecrating to him their whole affection; which the more common it is, is so much the less strong.

CONFERENCE LXXXIV.

I. Of Respiration. II. Whether there be any cer∣tainty in humane Sciences.

I. Of Respirati∣on.

ALthough our natural heat be of a degree more eminent then the elementary, yet 'tis preserv'd after the same man∣ner, namely, by addition of new matter, and emission of fuli∣ginous vapours, ever resulting from the action of heat upon hu∣midity: both which are done by the means of respiration, which is the attraction of air by the mouth or nostrils into the Lungs, and from thence into the Heart, where the purest part of this air is chang'd into vital spirits, which are also refresh'd and ventilated by it. For though as much goes forth by exspi∣ration as is taken in by inspirations, yet the air we breathe is ne∣vertheless turn'd into our spirits; for that which issues forth is not air alone, but 'tis accompani'd with hot gross vapours streaming from the heart, the furnace of our heat. And as respiration is proper to perfect animals, so the imperfect have only transpiration, which is when the same air is attracted by the imperceptible pores of the body. Which is sufficient for animals whose heat is languid, as Insects, the Child in the womb, and hysterical women, in whom also (hereupon) the pulse ceases for a good while. And whereas the air kills fishes when they are long expos'd to it, it cannot serve for the support of

their natural heat which is very small. Wherefore they respire with water which is more natural and familiar to them, causing the same effects in them that the air doth in land-animals.

The Second said, As the aliments ought to be sutable to the parts of the body which they nourish, the soft and spungy Lungs attracting the thin bilious blood, the spleen the gross and melan∣choly; so the spirits of the animal must be repair'd by others proportionate thereunto and of sutable matter, for recruiting the continual loss of that spiritual substance, the seat of the na∣tural heat and radical moisture. Wherefore animals which have aqueous spirits, as fishes, repair the same by water which they respire by the mouth, the purest part of which water is turn'd into their spirits, and the more gross omitted by their gills. But land-animals, whose spirits are aerious and more subtile, and whose heat is more sensible, have need of air to serve for sutable matter to such spirits, for which end nature ha's given them Lungs. Yet with this difference, that as some fish attract a more subtile and tenuious water, to wit, that of Rivers, and some again a more gross, as those which live in Lakes and Mud: So according as animals have different spirits, some breathe a thin air, as Birds, others more gross, as Men and most Beasts; others an air almost terrestrial and material, as Moles; and amongst those which have only transpiration, flyes attract a thin air, and Worms a thick.

The Second said, That our natural heat, being celestial and divine, may indeed be refresh'd by the air, but not fed and sup∣ported as the parts of our body are by solid and liquid food. For food must be in some manner like the thing nourish'd, be∣cause 'tis to be converted into its substance. Now there's no proportion between the gross and impure air which we breathe, and that celestial and incorporeal substance. Nor can nutriti∣on be effected, unless the part to be nourish'd retain the aliment for some time, to prepare and assimilate it; but, on the contrary, the air attracted by respiration is expell'd as soon as it hath ac∣quir'd heat within, and is become unprofitable to refresh and cool. This respiration is an action purely animal and volunta∣ry, since 'tis in our power to encrease, diminish, or wholly in∣terrupt it, as appears by Licinius, Macer, and Coma, who, by the report of Valerius Maximus, kill'd themselves by holding their breath.

The Fourth said, That Respiration being absolutely necessa∣ry to life is not subject to the command of the will, but is regu∣lated by nature, because it doth its actions better then all hu∣mane deliberations. Nor is it ever weary, as the animal facul∣ty is, whose action is not continual as this of respiration is, even during sleep, which is the cessation of all animal actions, and wherein there is no election or apprehension of objects (a neces∣sary condition to animal actions) yea in the lethargy, apoplexie, and other symptoms, wherein the brain being hurt, the animal

actions are interrupted, yet respiration always remains unpre∣judic'd.

The Fifth said, That respiration is neither purely natural (as concoction and distribution of the blood are; nor yet simply animal, (as speaking and walking are) but partly animal, partly natural, as the retaining or letting go of urine is. 'Tis natural in regard of its end and absolute necessity, and its being insti∣tuted for the vital faculty of the heart, which is purely natural; animal and voluntary, inasmuch as 'tis perform'd by means of 65 intercostal muscles, the organs of voluntary motion, whereby it may be made faster or slower.

II. Whether there be any certainty in humane Sci∣ences.

Upon the second Point 'twas said, That all our knowledge seems to be false. First, on the part of the object, there being but one true of it self, namely God, whom we know not, and cannot know; because to know adaequately is to comprehend, and to comprehend is to contain; and the thing contain'd must be less then that which contains it. To know a thing inad∣aequately, is not to know it. Secondly, on the part of our In∣tellect, which must be made like to what it knows, or rather turn'd into its nature; whence he that thinks of a serious thing becomes serious himself; he that conceives some ridiculous thing laughs without design, and all the longings of Child∣bearing-women end where they begun. But 'tis impossible for us to become perfectly like to what we would know. Thirdly, this impossibility proceeds from our manner of knowing, which being by some inference or consequence from what is al∣ready known, we can never know any thing, because we know nothing at all when we come into the world. And should we acquire any knowledge, it would be only by our internal and external senses. Both both are fallacious, and consequently, cannot afford certain knowledge. For, as for the external, the eye which seems the surest of all the senses, apprehends things at distance to be less then they really are, a straight stick in the water to be crooked, the Moon to be of the bigness of a Cheese, though 'tis neer that of the Earth; the Sun greater at rising and setting then at noon, the Shore to move and the Ship to stand still, square things to be round at distance, an erect Pillar to be less at the top. Nor is the hearing less subject to mistake, as the Echo, and a Trumpet sounded in a valley, makes the sound seem before us when 'tis far behind us. Pronuntiation alters the sense of words; besides, that both these senses are erroneous in the time of their perception, as is seen in felling of woods and thunder. The Smell and Taste, yea the Touch it self, how gross soever it be, are deceiv'd every day in sound persons as well as in sick; and what do our drinkers in rubbing their pa∣lates with Salt and Spice but wittingly beguile it, grating the skin thereof that so the wine may punge it more sensibly. But the great fallacy is in the operation of the inward Senses. For

the Phancy oftentimes is perswaded that it hears and sees what it doth not; and our reasoning is so weak, that in many disci∣plines scarce one Demonstration is found, though this alone produceth Science. Wherefore 'twas Democritus's opinion that Truth is hidden in a well, that she may not be found by men.

The Second said, That to know, is to understand the cause whereby a thing is, and to be certain that there can be no other but that; the word cause being taken for principle. There∣fore when men know by the Senses, by effects, by external ac∣cidents, or such other things which are not the cause, they cannot be said to know by Science; which requires that the un∣derstanding be fully satisfi'd in its knowledge, wherein if there be any doubt it hath not Science, but Opinion. This scientifi∣cal knowledge is found in no other discipline but Logick and Geometry, in regard of the certainty of their principles, which are so clear that they are alike known by all, even the most ig∣norant, who need only understand their terms to assent to their truth. Such as these are; every thing which is said of the Ge∣nus is also said of the Species; and what is not said of the Genus, is not said of the Species; which they call Dictum de omni, & de nulle. If to equal things you add equal things, the remainder will be equal. And if to unequal things you add unequal things, the remainder will be unequal. For whereas beasts have a natural faculty which is the common sense, or estimative faculty, whereby they judge of the convenience or inconveni∣ence of objects the first time the same are presented to them: Man, beyond this natural power, enabling him to judge of sen∣sible objects, hath a peculiar one, which is the Intellectual, by means whereof he is said to be every thing in power, because it enables him to know every thing, and to judge of the truth or falshood of universal things, which are Principles. And as the eye beholding white or black judges sufficiently what colour it is, without seeking reasons thereof elsewhere then within it self; so the Intellect discerns the truth of principles by it self, without the help of any other faculty, yea without the habit of any Science, because these principles being before the Science whereof they are principles must be more clear and known then it; whence Intelligence is defin'd the habit or knowledge of such first Principles. Thus, ask a Geometrician why the whole is greater then its part, he can give you no other reason but that 'tis a principle known of its own nature.

The Third said, That Geometry, being the knowledge of eternal truths by infallible principles, is most certain. And 'tis an evidence of its certainty that it neither proposes nor demon∣strates why a thing is such, but only that it is such. As 'tis pro∣pos'd and demonstrated that in the same segment of a circle all the angles are equal, but not why they are so, because 'tis a truth which comes to our knowledge by certain principles, and

propositions formerly demonstrated, as certain as the principles themselves. Hence this truth is demonstrated, which never∣theless hath not any cause of its existence, as frail and perishing things have; no material being abstracted from all matter; nor efficient, for the agent▪ is not any way consider'd therein; nor formal, an angle being of its own nature only the inclinati∣on of lines; nor yet final, this being not made to any intention. In like manner 'tis demonstrated that four numbers or four lines being proportional (that is, when there is such reason of the first to the second, as of the third to the fourth) the square of the two extreams is equal to the square of the two middlemost; but not why 'tis so, this question occurring only in dubious things.

The Fourth said, That knowledge being desir'd by all men, who for this end are endu'd with an Intellect capable of all sorts of notions, it must needs be found in some subjects, otherwise nature should have given us a general desire of a thing which is not. And since there are causes of every thing, there must be a Science of those causes. But the multitude of apparent causes is the reason that we are oftentimes ignorant of the right, and take one for another, the shadow for the body, and apparence for truth. Which argues not that there is no knowledge, but rather few knowing persons. For Socrates who said he knew nothing but that he knew nothing; and the Pyrrhonians who doubted of every thing had even a knowledge of their igno∣rance. Moreover, the exact knowledge men have by the senses of particular things necessarily carries them to that of universals, wherein Science consists. As he that often experienc'd in divers persons that Sena purg'd their melancholy, acquires of himself this general Notion, that all Sena purges melancholy. And, on the contrary, he who understands a general proportion in gross, may of himself apply the same to all particulars; so great a connexion there is between things universal and particular, in which the fruit of Science consists.

The Fifth said, Since all knowledge depends upon another prenotion, which is what they call principles, those which com∣pose the Sciences must also distinguish the same. Wherefore Sci∣ences are to be term'd certain or uncertain according as the pre∣existent notions whereupon they are founded are certain or not. Now amongst those principles some are universal, common to all Sciences; as those of Metaphysicks; in all things either the af∣firmative or the negative is true; that which is not hath no propriety. Besides which 'tis necessary to have particular one's proper to the Science, which are true, first, immediate, causes of the Conclusion, preceding and more known then it. The six conditions requisite to principles in order to a demon∣stration. They must be true, not false; for that which is false exists not; that which exists not cannot be a cause of that which exists, nor consequently a false principle be the cause of a true

demonstration: First, that is not proveable by others: imme∣diate, so enjoyn'd with the attribute that there is nothing be∣tween them two to joyn them more neerly: causes of the con∣clusion, that is, this principle must be the necessary cause of this truth; and consequently precede and be more known then it. As taking this for a principle, that the interposition of an opake body between light and a body illuminated causes a sha∣dow upon this body; we conclude, that as often as the earth is found interpos'd between the Sun, which is the light, and the Moon which is the body illuminated, it will necessarily come to pass that there will be a shadow upon the body of the Moon, which is its Eclipse.

The Sixth said, 'Twas the errour of Socrates, that observing our Sciences depending on other preceding notions, he appre∣hended that we learned nothing new, but that Science was no∣thing but the remembrance of what the soul formerly knew be∣fore its being inclos'd in this body: not considering that the knowledge of principles and notions is confus'd and not di∣stinct; and that the knowledge of them in gross is not sufficient to denominate a person knowing; but that we must first draw universal conclusions from them, then apply the same to parti∣culars, without which application those principles would be unprofitable, and not produce any Science. Thus the Divine applies this general principle, that that which is contrary to the Law of God is evil, to particular conclusions, as to murder, theft and perjury. The Physitian, who holds for a Principle that Contraries are cur'd by their Contraries, draws these other conclusions from it, that a cold distemper is cur'd by hot medi∣caments, a hot by refrigerating; obstruction, by openers; which he applies again to particular subjects. The States-man, from this general Principle, That every thing that disturbs the publick quiet is to be repress'd, concludes that the Seditious are to be punish'd. So, 'tis not enough for a Mathematician to know that equal things added to equal things are likewise equal, unless he apply this universal principle to particular lines, sur∣faces and bodies. Which is done either by the Synthetical, or by the Analytical way (which nevertheless must be follow'd by the Synthetical.) Now 'tis in the application of these general rules to particulars, that errour is committed even in the most certain Sciences.

The Seventh said, That there are few Sciences, because there are few Principles and Proposition's demonstrable: as the con∣tingent and the absolute are not. Whence it is that the future is not demonstrable, and hence follows the incertainty of Poli∣ticks. Wherefore only necessary Propositions, whereof (the truth is) permanent and eternal are demonstrable; and all these are necessarily demonstrable because they have infallible principles: yet only such of these whose principles are known by men are demonstrable by men. So 'tis certain that the In∣undation

of Nilus, and the flux and reflux of the Sea are not de∣monstrable; because men know not, the principles are not known. Whereby it appears how ridiculous they are who undertake to demonstrate every thing.

CONFERENCE LXXXV.

I. Whether the manners of the Soul follow the tem∣perament of the Body. II. Of Sights or Shews.

I. Whether the manners of the Soul fol∣low the tem∣perament of the Body.

THe extream variety of men's actions and manners cannot proceed from the diversity of their souls, which are ac∣counted all equal, but from that of the bodies; wherein accord∣ing to the various tempers thereof the soul produces that variety of manners. And as, in natural and animal actions, one and the same Soul digests in the stomack, makes blood in the Liver and Veins, sees by the Eyes, and reasons in the Brain; so, likewise, it is sometimes sad, when the melancholy humour predominates in the body; sometimes cheerful, when blood abounds; and sometimes also froward or angry, when the choler is agitated.

The Second said, That the soul being the form, as the body is the matter, it must be the cause of all humane actions; not the body, which receives them, since the soul informs and per∣fectionates the body, and begets in it the habit which produces the manners and actions. As the horse governs not the rider, but the contrary; and 'tis to the rider that the honour or blame of the course is to be imputed. And were the soul but a quali∣ty, as the most prophane have ventur'd to affirm, yet the same priviledge must be reserv'd to it which is allow'd to the predo∣minant quality in every compound, which gives it not only the denomination but also the action: as in compound medicaments the most active simple carries the credit from the rest. Besides, if the body and the humours thereof were the author and cause of manners, an ignorant person could never become learned, and a single Lecture of Xenocrates had never made a Drunkard cast off his chaplet of flowers, and turn a Philosopher. The examples of many grand personages sufficiently ill furnish'd with graces of the body, evidence what certainty there is in ar∣guing from the out-side of the corporeal structure to the furni∣ture of the soul; and that the signs of malice, remark'd in some, as in Zoilus, from his having a red beard, a black mouth, and being lame, and one-ey'd; of Thersites, and Irus, from their ha∣ving sharp heads, rather shew the malice or ignorance of such as make these remarks, then prove that these dispositions of body are the true cause of malice; we see people of the same temper,

hair, stature, features, and other circumstances, very different in their manners and inclinations. And the same is observ'd in horses. For since the Stars, the most powerful agents, do not constrain, but only incline, certainly the humours cannot do more. True it is, their inclination is so strong, that no less grace of Heaven is needful to resist the same, then strength to re∣tain a man that is rolling down the declivity of a hill: Yet So∣crates remaining unmov'd by the embraces of a Curtezan, whom his Scholars contriv'd into his bed, to try him, although he was naturally very prone to vice, justifies that how hard soever it be to stop the slipping foot when it is once going, yet 'tis not im∣possible; and therefore the manners of the soul do not always follow the constitution of the body. Not considering the pow∣er which the fear of God hath over our wills, the effects where∣of I here meddle not with, as being supernatural, since they have sometimes destroy'd all the maximes of nature; witness those that give themselves to be burnt for the faith.

The Third said, That the body must needs contribute to the soul's actions, as being its instrument. But it contributes only what it hath, namely, its temperament, and other proprieties. Therefore 'tis from this temperament that the same are diversi∣fi'd. The soul sees no longer when the eyes are shut or blinded: 'tis wise in a well temper'd brain (not only in a dry, as Plato, in his Timaeus, conceiv'd, because he saw children grow more pru∣dent as their brain was desiccated) 'tis stupid in a too moist brain, and foolish or furious in one inflam'd, as in deliration or madness. 'Tis also forc'd to leave its body when a violent Fever hath so deprav'd the humours thereof that there remains not the temper necessary to its reception. Therefore it follows the temper of the humours. Thus, because we see fire introduc'd into any combustible subject, and extinguish'd when the same is consum'd, we say fire follows combustible matter, and be∣comes of the same nature, quantity, and other qualities. More∣over, Hippocrates saith, Nations are warlike or cowardly, la∣borious or not, of good or bad nature, according to the diver∣sity of climates and soils they inhabit, which render them di∣versly temper'd. Hence, in Asia, where the air is temperate, and less subject to changes then Europe and Africa, men are more healthy and handsome, their manners more equal and laudable: on the contrary, in Countries more cold or hot, the inhabitants are either more cruel or more boisterous, more hardy or more ti∣merous; and Mountaineers are more industrious, as, on the con∣trary, those who live in a fertile soil are commonly more sloth∣ful. Hence, amongst the Greeks, the Thebans and all the Baeo∣tians, whose Country was rich, and the air very thick, were ve∣ry dull, and the Athenians very subtle: which was the cause that 'twas said, people were born Philosophers at Athens: on the contrary, 'twas a prodigious thing to see one wise Anacharsis among the Scythians. Hippocrates addes the seasons too, ac∣cording

to the change whereof men's manners are also found di∣vers. But all these cannot act upon the soul but by the organ of the body, changing its humours, and introducing new quali∣ties into the parts thereof.

The Fourth said, Even sucking children give some tokens to what their constitution inclines them, before the contraction of any habit, vertuous or vicious; some of courage; others of ti∣midity; some of modesty, others of impudence; and as soon as they begin to speak, some are lyers, others love truth. And of two children taught by the same Master, the hardest student is many times a less prosicient then the other, who hath a tem∣per proper for learning, and is as inclin'd to it as another is to Merchandize, Mechanicks, Travel, War; or this will be quar∣relsome, the other respectful and discreet; one is born to ser∣vitude, and the other prefers his liberty before a Kingdom. So that not only the moral actions of the will, but also those of the understanding absolutely depend on the body, the soul being of a spiritual nature which of it self can never produce any sen∣sible effect without the mediation of some body, not so much as exercise its proper actions of Willing and Understanding; both which depend on the phantasms, which are intellectual species fa∣bricated by the agent intellect in the Patient, upon the model of those that were brought by the senses into the imagination: hence, if these be alter'd or deprav'd by the spirits or humous flowing to the brain, reasoning becomes either diminish'd or de∣prav'd, or else wholly abolish'd, the spirits so confounding these phantasms that the intellect cannot make its reviews, nor compose or divide them in order to elicite its conclusions, and frame its notions. For souls differ only by the spirits, the te∣nuity and lucidity whereof is proper for contemplation, their abundance makes a man bold, their inflammation renders him frantick, their defect causeth sloth and cowardize: and being design'd to serve equally to the actions of the soul and body they were made of a middle nature between body and spirit; whence they are called spiritual bodies, and are the cause of union between them, and mutual communication of their passions and affections. So the bodies diseases affect the soul, and disturb its operations, the spirits abandoning the brain to succour the grieved parts: the bilious humour in the ventricles of the brain, or a tumour and a Sphacelus cause madness, the blood overheated causeth simple folly accompani'd with laughter; melancholy produceth serious folly. In like manner, the body resents the passions of the soul; fear causeth trembling and paleness, shame, blushing, anger, foaming: and all this by the spirits.

The Fifth said, If manners depended on tempers, vertues might be easily acquir'd by the course of diet; which seems ri∣diculous. For then the divine faculties of the soul should de∣pend not only upon meats but upon all other things not natural;

which would be to subject the Queen to her servants, to enslave the will and take away its liberty which makes it to be what it is. Besides, Theology cannot consist with this conclusion, which would acquit persons of blame, and lay it upon nature as its author. For he that should commit some evil cholerick action or other sin, could not avoid it, being lead thereunto by the bilious humour produc'd by nature, whereunto 'tis almost impossible to resist, and so he would seem innocent, and unjustly punish'd for what he committed not voluntarily; though with∣out the will there is no sin. Moreover, men would not be va∣riable, but always the same, the bilious always angry, the san∣guine ever in love, &c. and yet we see men exercise all sorts of virtues, and capable of all vices. Many beasts have not only the same constitution of brain, but also external shape like that of man, as Apes, (whose bones are so like those of men, that in Galen's time Anatomists consider'd only their Sceletons) yea, the same temper, and all internal parts alike, as Swine; and there's little or no difference between the brain of man and a calf; and yet none of these animals have actions like those of men; which being purely spiritual and intellectual must depend upon another cause, the rational soul, whose actions are not any way organical; for then it should be corporeal, because pro∣ceeding from the body, and consequently mortal.

II. Of Sights or Shews.

Upon the second Point 'twas said, That the communication of the ills and goods of the soul and body has put men upon searching what may relieve the languishing strength of either. And as the soul is delighted by bodily pleasures, so it also, in gratitude, returns the like pleasure to the body, by the content∣ment which it receives in acquiring knowledge, the least labo∣rious of which is that most recreative, as that is which is con∣vey'd by the sight. For the hearing makes us know things only one after another; but the sight shewing them all at once, more fully satisfies our natural desire of knowing. Hence all people, from the highest to the lowest, are so delighted with shews or spe∣ctacles, that the Romans kept Actors and Comedians with publick pensions; and Cicero publickly commended Roscius, who alone had 12000 crowns for a stipend from the Roman people. They employ'd the incomes of the woods about Rome, dedicated to their gods, for the maintaining of Theatres, Am∣phitheatres, Cirques, and other places destinated to shews, wherein the Senators and Knights had the fourteen first ranks or seats; for whose conveniency Q. Catulus cover'd the Scene with veils of sine linen; Lucius and Cinna made a versatile or shifting Scene; P. Claudius was the first that adorn'd it with pictures and tables; C. Antonius cover'd it with silver; Murena made one of pure silver; Trebonius one guilded; others, inlay'd with Ivo∣ry: Nero sprinkled all the place of the Cirque where the horses run, with gold-sand, and cover'd it with veils beset with stars,

in form of a sky: Heliogabalus made an Euripus of wine at the Circensian plays, in which he caus'd a Naval Battle to be re∣presented; as if the wickedest Princes could not have cover'd their enormities with a more specious liberality or more agreea∣ble to the people. These spectacles were likewise us'd at the funerals of great Princes, and made part of their service of the gods. They divert the great, make the miserable forget their affliction, are the true physick of the soul, the book of the ig∣norant, and the only way truly to revive the transactions of for∣mer ages.

The Second said, Nothing is so destructive to good manners as the frequentation of Theatres and most other spectacles: which is the most dangerous, for that things represented to the eyes make deeper impression in the mind then by any other sense. Which made Aristotle advise the prohibiting of Come∣dies, and S. Augustin declare them contrary to piety and ho∣nesty. The same is the opinion of all the Fathers, particularly Tertullian, who in an express treatise blames all sort of spectacles, as proceeding from the superstition of Paganism, causing trou∣bles and quarrels; yea rendring men capable of all sort of wickedness by the impression of their examples. For the sights of Mimes and Pantomimes are ridiculous; Rope-dancers un∣profitable; Farces or Enterludes dangerous, and enemies to pu∣rity; Comedy, the least dangerous of all sights, besides loss of time, renders mens minds soft and effeminate, and more suscep∣tible of the passions represented therein; Tragedy is too sad to serve for divertisement to the soul. If you proceed to Gladia∣tors, is any thing more inhumane, and that renders men more barbarous then to see our fellow-men kill one another in cold blood, and expose themselves to wild beasts? and 'tis always a dangerous practise to accustom the eyes to murders and bloody spectacles; nature being easily perverted by custom. More∣over, all these Mimes, Actors, Sword-players, and the like, were always held infamous, and incapable of publick charges; inso∣much that the Emperor Theodosius, Arcadius, and Honorius, in L. 4. C. de Spectaculis Scenicis, and Lenonibus, forbid to defile their sacred images by the society of those people who act up∣on the Theatre, ranking them with the corrupters of chastity. And the Romans, who practis'd the same more then any Nati∣on, felt the inconvenience of them when the most potent be∣came masters of the Commonwealth, by means of the specta∣cles wherewith they allur'd the people to their party; as Julius Caesar, who being Aedile, and having given Gladiators, Hunt∣ings, Sports, Races, and sumptuous Feasts to the people of Rome, they created him Chief Pontife, although Q. Catulus, and Ser∣vilius Isauricus, two great personages, were his competitors: which was his first step to Sovereignty; and Suetonius observes, that the conflux of people was so numerous, that many, and, amongst the rest, two Senators were smother'd in the throng.

The Third said, That Spectacles or Shews are good or bad according to the things which they represent. But absolutely speaking, they ought to be permitted, not only for the diversi∣on of men, but also for the exercising of youth, and animating them to courage by rewards for their fortitude; as the Greeks sometimes appointed Statues, Crowns of gold, Olive, Palm, Smal∣lage, and other such guerdons, to those who overcame in Run∣ning, Wrastling, Caestus or fighting with Whorlbats, and such ex∣ercises, carrying them in a triumphal Charriot to the Town of their Birth; shewing themselves so careful of the Olympick Games, that they committed the charge thereof to the Sicyoni∣ans, after Corinth, the place where they were formerly cele∣brated, had been raz'd by the Romans, who transferr'd those Plays into their own City by the perswasion of Cato, for the same end of educating their youth. For as profit delights some spirits, so pleasure allures all; and of pleasures none is more in∣nocent and communicable then that of the sight.

CONFERENCE LXXXVI.

I. Of the Dog-days. II. Of the Mechanicks.

I. Of the Dog∣days.

THat the Stars act upon sublunary bodies is agreed upon, but not the manner: some holding that they impress some qualities by motion, others by light, others by their in∣fluence, others by both together, producing heat by the two first, and other more extraordinary effects by influences. For every thing that is mov'd heats; as also all sort of light united, even that of the Moon, whose rays may be made to burn with glasses as well as those of the Sun. But because natural agents cannot act beyond the natural bounds of their power, therefore heat produc'd of light and motion here below can produce only its like, heat, or such other alteration in inferior bodies, not those strange and irregular changes not only in the temper of the air, but of every other body. As that it is sometimes hotter, and sometimes colder, in the same elevation of the Sun, cannot be attributed to his approach or remotion, or to the incidence of his perpendicular or oblique rays, but it must proceed from the conjunction, opposition, or several aspects of other Stars. Amongst which the Canicula or Dog-star hath very extraordi∣nary effects; as to weaken mens bodies, to make dogs run mad, to turn the wine in the vessel, to make the sea boile, to move lakes, to heat the air so much that Pliny affirms that Dolphins keep themselves hid during the 30 Dog-days: at which he won∣ders the more because they can respire neither in the water nor upon the earth, but partly in the air, partly in the water.

Moreover, Experience shews, that the Hyades or Pleiades (stars in the back of the Bull) have such a moist quality that they alwayes cause rain at their rising, which happens in Novem∣ber; as Arcturus never rises without bringing hail or tempest; the Moon being full, Oysters, Muscles, and the sap of Trees, are so too, and therefore being cut at this time they soon rot; and Pliny counsels to cut them during the Dog-dayes, when the heat of the season ha's dry'd up all their aqueous moisture, which is the cause of their corrupting.

The Second said, That the vanity of Astrologers, who have phancy'd monsters and sundry figures in Heaven, and attributed imaginary effects to them, the better to amuse mens minds with some resemblance of the truth, hath also feign'd two dogs there; one less, consisting of two stars; and another of eighteen, the the greatest of which is the brightest in our Hemisphere, and is in the tongue of this Dog, whom the Greeks and Latins call Sirius, and ascribe so much power to him, that they conceive his conjunction with the Sun in the East causes the scorching heat of Summer; yea, the people of the Isle of Cea, near Negro∣pont, as Cicero reports, took their presages of the whole year from the rising of this star, determining the same to be rainie, in case this star appear'd obscure and and cloudy; and the contrary. But this cannot be true, as well in regard of the great distance of the fix'd stars, which also being of the same substance cannot have contrary qualities; as also by reason of the retrogradation of their sphere, which hath a motion contrary to that of the First Mover, namely, from West to East; which motion, though insensible in few years, yet amounts to much at the end of many Ages. As is justifi'd by the Dog-star, which Ptolomy in the ta∣bles of his time places at 18. degr. 10. min. of Gemini; Alphonsus, King of Castile, at the 4. degr. of Cancer; and now 'tis found at 9. degr. 54. min. according to Tycho, and at 9. degr. 30. min. according to Copernicus. Whereby it appears, that after many years this star will be in the winter signes, and that at the Creati∣on it was in Aries at the Vernal Equinox, and that, consequently, the Dog-dayes will be in the time of the greatest cold. In brief, were there such power in this conjunction, the Dog-dayes would be hot and burning; and yet in some years they are cold and rainie: Which the Astrologers attributing to the several Aspects of Saturn, or other cold stars, see not that by weakning the force of some by others, they subvert all. Wherefore the Dog-star is at present the sign, but not the cause of hot dayes; that is, the hapning of this Constellation in the Summer signes, and its conjunction with the Sun during hot weather, ha's been erroni∣ously believ'd the principal cause thereof, which, in my judge∣ment, is to be sought onely in the continuance of the Suns acti∣on during the Spring and half the Summer, whereby the Air is hotter then when he was neerer us. So 'tis hotter at two a clock in the afternoon then at ten in the morning, although the

Sun be at the same distance, yea, then at noon, although he be then nearest of all; and we read that an Ambassador of Presbyter John dy'd with heat as he landed at Lisbone, although the heat be not so great there as in his Country, but of louger continu∣ance. If it rains sometimes during the said season, 'tis by reason of too great attraction of Vapours by the heat of the Sun; as is seen in the torrid Zone, where when the Sun is in the greatest Apogaeum it rains continually.

The Second said, That the Longitude of the Dog-star (call'd by the Arabians Athabor) is at this day about the 9. degr. of Cancer, and its meridional latitude 39. degr. and a half. Now the Ancients observing the greatest heat of the whole year to be commonly when the Sun is at the end of Cancer and beginning of Leo, and at the same the Dog-star to rise with the Sun, (which the Astronomers call the Cosmical Rising) nam'd those dayes Dog-dayes, which begin with us about the two and twentieth of July: whether they believ'd the cause of this heat to be that star assisting the Sun; or else, according to their order of distin∣guishing seasons before years and moneths were regulated by the course of the Sun, they denoted those dayes by the rising of this star, conceiving that it did not change place any more then the other stars of the Firmament. As not onely the Poets, but also Hippocrates, distinguishes the four Seasons of the year by the rising and setting of the Pleiades and Arcturus. And thus the name of the day hath remain'd to these dayes, although the star be not in the same place, following Ages observing that besides the eight motions admitted by the Ancients in the Heavens, namely, of the seven Planets, and the First Mover, there's another peculiar to the starry Heaven, which is finish'd, according to some, in 36000 years, whereby it comes to pass that the Dog-star is no longer in the same place where it was at the first observation of these Dog-dayes. For 'tis about two thou∣sand years since this star arose exactly with the Sun in the dayes which we call Canicular; the heat whereof hath alwayes conti∣nu'd; and yet the star hath pass'd forward, and at this day rises not with the Sun till about the eighth of August, when the Dog∣dayes and strength of heat begins to expire. Since therefore the effect continues, and the pretended cause exists not at that time, as the Astronomical Tables justifie, it follows that it is not the cause of that effect. Wherefore some have conceiv'd, that the star which made the Dog-dayes, was another star, in the little Dog call'd Procyon. But this Procyon did not rise with the Sun, in the dayes of the Ancients, till about the beginning of July, which is three weeks before the Dog-dayes; which consequently cannot be attributed to the fix'd stars, by reason of their parti∣cular motion, which causes them to vary situation; the Dog-star by its proper motion proceeding 52. min. every year, which make about 1. degr. in 70. years, 3. degr. in 200. years, and one sign in 2000. Besides, if the stars had any force, the same would be

sensible at their coming to the meridian of the place with the Sun, then when they rise with him, because their greatest strength is when they are under the meridian, being then in their greatest elevation above the Horizon and nearest the Zenith, and conse∣quently, most active as experience shews in the Sun. Therefore the true cause of the heat of Dog-dayes, is, because the Sun being to∣wards the end of Cancer and the beginning of Leo, we have more causes concurring together to produce heat then in any other sea∣son of the year, namely, the elevation of the Sun above the hori∣zon, the length of the days, and shortness of the nights. For then the dayes are not sensibly diminish'd, nor the nights sensibly en∣creas'd; the Sun hath not yet suffer'd any considerable change in his altitude above the Horizon; but above all the preparation of the earth, which hath been heated during the three moneths of the Spring, and a moneth and half of the Summer, whereby all the aqueous humidity which refrigerates is dissipated, and the heat so far impacted into the earth that the night it self is less cold then in any other season.

The Fourth said, As 'tis absurd to seek in the stars for causes of effects when we see them manifest in the qualities of inferior bodies, and the various concourse of so many different natural causes: So 'tis stupidity to deny all virtue to those great superior orbs, rejecting wise Antiquity and all the most learned judiciary Astrologers, who ascribe a particular virtue to each star, as to the Dog-star to heat and scorch the Air. Moreover, the Divine Hippocrates, lib. de Affect. inter Sect. 5. affirms, that the disease call'd Typhos happens commonly in Summer and in these Dog∣dayes, because it hath a power to stir the choler through the whole Body. And in his book De Aere, locis, & aquis, he adds, that the rising of the stars is diligently to be observ'd, especially that of the Dog-star and some few others, at which times dis∣eases turn into other kinds; for which reason he saith, Aph. 5. Sect. 4. That purging is dangerous when the Dog-star rises, and some while before.

The Fifth said, That all purging medicaments being hot, tis no wonder if they are carefully to be manag'd during very hot weather, in which there is a great dissipation of the spirits and strength; so that our Bodies, being then languid, cannot be mov'd and agitated without danger. Not that the Dog-star contributes any thing thereunto, but onely the heat of the season caus'd by the Sun, which attracting from the centre to the cir∣cumference, and purging from the circumference to the centre, there are made two contrary motions, enemies to Nature; which is the cause that many fall then into fevers and fainting fits.

II. Of the Me∣chanicks.

Upon the Second Point 'twas said, That as the object of the Mathematicks is two-fold, either intellectual or sensible, so there are two sorts of Mathematicks. Some consider their object sim∣ply,

and abstracted from all kind of matter, namely, Geometry and Arithmetick; others consider it as conjoyn'd to some mat∣ter, and they are six, Astrology, Perspective, Geodaesie, Canonick or Musick, the Logistick and the Mechanick Art, which is no∣thing less then what its name imports, being otherwise the most admirable of all; because it communicates motion, which is the most exquisite effect of Nature. 'Tis divided into Organical, which composes all instruments and engines of war; sordid, which makes utensils necessary to the uses of life; and miracu∣lous, which performs strange and extraordinary things. 'Tis this which makes water ascend in the Pneumaticks, whereof Hero writ a Treatise rendring the same melodious, and resem∣bling the singing of birds in the Hydraulicks. It makes use of the four Elements, which are the causes of the motions of en∣gines, as of Fire in Granadoes, Air in Artificial Fountains, both Fire and Air by their compression, which water not admitting▪ (since we see a vessel full of water can contain nothing more) its violence consists in its gravity when it descends from high pla∣ces. The Earth is also the cause of motion by its gravity, when 'tis out of Aequilibrium, as also of rest when 'tis equally poiz'd, as is seen in weights.

The Second said, The wit of Man could never preserve the dominion given him by God over other creatures without help of the Mechanicks, but by this art he hath brought the most sa∣vage and rebellious Animals to his service. Moreover, by help of mechanical inventions the four Elements are his slaves, and as it were at his pay to do his works. Thus we see, by means of the Hydraulicks or engines moving by water, wheels, and pumps, are set continually at work; the Wind is made to turn a Mill, manag'd by the admirable Art of Navigation, or employ'd to other uses by Aealipila's; Fire, the noblest of all Elements, becomes the vassal of the meanest Artisans, or serves to delight the sight by the pleasant inventions of some Ingineer, or em∣ployes its violence to arm our thunders more powerfully then the ancient machines of Demetrius. The Earth is the Theatre of all these inventions, and Archimedes boasted he could move that too, had he place where to fix his engine. By its means the Sun descends to the Earth, and by the artificial union of his rayes is enabled to effect more then he can do in his own sphere. The curiosity of man hath carry'd him even to Heaven by his Astro∣logical Instrumens; so that nothing is now done in that repub∣lick of the stars, but what he knows and keeps in record.

The Third said, That since Arts need Instruments to perform their works, they owe all they can do to the Mechanicks which supply them with utensils and inventions. 'Twas the Mechanicks which furnish'd the Smith with a hammer and an anvil, the Carpenter with a saw and a wedge, the Architect with a rule, the Mason with a square, the Geometrician with a compass, the Astronomer with an astrolabe, the Souldier with sword and

musket; in brief, they have in a manner given man other hands. Hence came paper, writing, printing, the mariner's box, the gun in these latter ages; and in the preceding, the Helepoles, or take∣cities, flying bridges, ambulatory towers, rams, and other engines of war, which gives law to the world. Hence Archime∣des easily drew a ship to him which all the strength of Sicily could not stir, fram'd a heaven of glass in which all the celestial motions were to be seen; according to which model, the representation of the sphere remains to us at this day. Hence he burnt the Roman ships even in their harbour, defended the City of Syra∣cuse for a long time against the Roman Army, conducted by the brave Marcellus. And, indeed, I wonder not that this great Archimedes was in so high in Reputaion. For if men be valued ac∣cording to their strength, is it not a miracle that one single man by help of mechanicks could lift as much as ten, a hundred, yea, a thousand others? And his pretension to move the whole Earth, were a poynt given him out of it where to stand, will not seem presumptuous, though the supposition be impossible, to such as know his screw without-end, or of wheels plac'd one above another; for by addition of new wheels the strength of the same might be so multiply'd, that no humane power could resist it; yea, a child might by this means displace the whole City of Paris, and France it self, were it upon a moveable plane. But the greatest wonder is the simplicity of the means, employ'd by this Queen of Arts to produce such excellent effects. For Aristotle, who writ a book of mechanicks, assignes no other principles thereof, but the Lever, its Hypomoclion, or Support, and a balance, it being certain that of these three multiply'd, proceed all Machines, both Automata, and such as are mov'd by force of wind, fire, water, or animals, as wind-mills, water-mills, horse-mills, a turn-broch by smoak, and as many other inventions as things in the world.

CONFERENCE LXXXVII.

I. Whether the Soul's Immortality is demonstrable by Natural Reasons. II. Whether Travel be necessary to an Ingenuous Man.

I. Whether the Soul's Im∣mortality is demonstrable by Natural Reasons.

NAtural Philosophy considers natural bodies as they are sub∣ject to alteration, and treats not of the Soul but so far as it informes the Body, and either partakes, or is the cause of such al∣teration. And therefore they are injust who require this Sci∣ence to prove supernatural things, as the Soul's Immortality is. Although its admirable effects, the vast extent of its thoughts, even beyond the imaginary spaces, its manner of acting, and vigor in old age, the terrors of future judgement, the satisfaction or

remorse of Conscience, and Gods Justice, which not punishing all sins in this life presupposes another, are sufficiently valid testi∣monies thereof; should not the universal consent of heathens themselves, (some of which have hastned their deaths to enjoy this immortality) and man's particular external shape, infer the particular excellence of his internal form. So that by the Phi∣losophical Maxime, which requires that there be contraries in every species of things, if the souls of beasts joyn'd to bodies die, there must be others joyn'd to other bodies, free from death when separated from the same. And the Harmony of the world which permits not things to pass from on extreme to another without some mean, requires as that there are pure spirits and in∣telligences which are immortal, and substances corporeal and mortal, so there be a middle nature between these two, Man, call'd by the Platonists upon this account, the horizon of the Universe, because he serves for a link and medium uniting the hemisphere of the Angelical Nature with the inferior hemisphere of corporeal nature. But there is difference between that which is, and that which may be demonstrated by Humane Reason, which falls short in proving the most sensible things, as the specifi∣cal proprieties of things; and much less can it prove what it sees not, or demonstrate the attribute of a subject which it sees not. For to prove the Immortality of the Soul, 'tis requisite, at least, to know the two termes of this proportion, The Soul is immor∣tal. But neither of them is known to natural reason; not im∣mortality, for it denotes a thing which shall never have end; but infinitie surpasses the reach of humane wit which is finite. And the term, Soul, is so obscure that no Philosophy hath yet been able to determine truly, whether it be a Spirit, or something corporeal, a substance or an accident, single or triple.

The Second said, That every thing that is mortal and cor∣ruptible, is such, in that it hath in it self some cause of this cor∣ruption. All mortal bodies, being compos'd of contrary ingre∣dients, have in themselves the principle of corruption, from which as well simple bodies, as the Elements and Heavens, as Spirits and separate intelligences, are free; because a thing simple in its own nature cannot act upon it self by a destructive action, though even those Spirits have but an arbitrary existence from their first cause on whom they depend. But in the first sence, and of their own nature they are absolutely incorruptible; for were they corruptible, then must some new substance be generated out of that which is corrupted, which is absurd; because they are simple and free from composition, and, consequently, from corruption. Now were reasonable Souls, which are part of man (who is compounded of matter and form) again com∣pounded of matter and form, there would be a progression to infinity in causes, which is contrary to natural reason. Moreover, nothing is corrupted but by its contrary, and therefore that which hath no contrary is free from corruption. But such is the

rational soul which is so far from having any contrary, that the most contrary things in Nature, as habits and their privati∣ons, being receiv'd in the Understanding, are no longer opposites or enemies, but friends and of the same nature; whence the rea∣son of contraries is alike, and there is but one Science of them.

The Third said, That such as a thing is, such is its action. A corporeal and material substance cannot produce an action which is not corporeal; and an immaterial action owns no other principle but what is immaterial and incorruptible. Hence the same reasons which prove the souls of brutes mortal, because their operations exceed not the bounds of the body, and tend onely to self-preservation and sensible good, conclude also, though by a contrary sense, for the immortality of the rational soul, whose operations are spiritual and abstracted from the bo∣dy. For, nutrition, concoction, assimilation, sense, motion, and other such actions, being corporeal, because terminated upon sensible and corporeal objects, must consequently be pro∣duc'd by a faculty of the same nature corporeal and material. But the reasonable soul, besides those actions which are com∣mon to it with those of beasts, hath some peculiar and much more sublime, as by the Intellect to understand eternal truths, to affirm, deny, suspend its judgement, compare things toge∣ther, abstract them from matter, time, place, and all other sensible accidents; by the will to love and embrace vertue in spight of the contrary inclinations of the sensitive appetite, to do good actions though difficult, to avoid the evil which flat∣ters the senses, and the like; which actions being above the bo∣dy and material objects cannot be produc'd but by an immate∣rial and incorruptible substance, such as the reasonable soul is. Moreover, since the soul can know all sorts of bodies, it must (con∣sequently) be exempt from all corporeal entity, as the tongue to judge aright of sapours must have none, and the eye to dis∣cern colours well.

The Fourth said, That Nature, which makes nothing in vain, hath imprinted in every thing a desire of its end whereof it is ca∣pable, as appears by induction of all created Beings. Now the greatest desire of man is immortality, whereunto he directs all his actions and intentions; and therefore he must be capable of it. But since he cannot accomplish this end in this life, as all other things do, it must be in another; without which not only good men would be more unhappy then wicked, but, in ge∣neral, the condition of men would be worse then that of beasts: if after having endur'd so many infelicities which brutes experience not, the haven of our miseries were the annihilation of the noblest part of our selves. Yea, if the soul could not subsist without the body, its supream good should be in this life, and in the pleasures of the body, and its chiefest misery in af∣flictions and the exercises of vertue; which is absurd. For whereas 'tis commonly objected, that the soul cannot exercise

its noblest functions but by help of corporeal organs rightly dis∣pos'd; and that when it is separated from those organs it can act no longer, and consequently shall exist no more, action and sub∣sistence being convertible; this is to take that for granted which is in controversie, namely, that the soul cannot act without the organs of the body, when it is separated from the same; since it operates sometimes more perfectly when 'tis freest from the senses, as in Extasies, burning Fevers, in the night time, and in old age.

The Fifth said, As in Architecture the principal piece of a building is the Foundation; so the most necessary of a Science, is to lay good Principles; without which first establish'd, all our Sciences are but conjectures, and our knowledge but opi∣nion. Now in order to judge whether the souls immortality be demonstrable by natural reasons, 'tis to be enquir'd whether we can find the principles of this truth, whose terms being known may be naturally clear and granted by all. The most or∣dinary are these. 1. Every thing which is spiritual is incor∣ruptible. 2. That which is material is mortal. 3. That which is immaterial is immortal. 4. That which God will preserve eternally is immortal. 5. A thing acts inasmuch as it exists; and some other principles, by which this so important verity seems but ill supported. For, the first is not absolutely true, since habits of grace, and natural habits, which are spiri∣tual, are annihilated and corrupted, those by sin, these by intermission of the actions which produc'd them. Then for the second, 'tis notoriously false, since not only the forms of the Elements which are material, and the Elements themselves consider'd according to their whole extent, but also the first matter, are incorruptible and eternal; and according to the opinion of many Doctors of the Church 'tis not an article of faith that the Angels are incorporeal, although it be de fide that they are immortal; to say nothing of igneous, aerious de∣mons, and other corporeal genii of the Platonists. As for the third, the actions of the understanding and the will are imma∣terial, and nevertheless perish as soon as they are conceiv'd; and the intentional species are not incorruptible, though not com∣pos'd either of matter or form: on the contrary, the Heavens which are so compos'd, are yet incorruptible. Whereby it ap∣pears that immortality depends on something else. As for the fourth, 'tis as difficult to prove that God will eternally preserve reasonable souls, as that they are immortal. And for the last, 'tis certain that many things act above their reach and the con∣dition of their nature; since that which exists not, as the end, nevertheless acts by exciting the efficient cause; motion begets heat which it self hath not; and light, a corporeal quality, is mov'd in an instant which is the property of incorporeal sub∣stances; as also the Sun, which is inanimate, produces animals more excellent then it self. Whereby it appears that the Prin∣ciple

which saith, that the essence of every thing is discover'd by its operations, is not universally true, no more then all the rest, which are propos'd without explication and before defin∣ing the terms under which they are compriz'd. For as 'twere ridiculous in a Geometrician to require any one to grant to him that a right line may be drawn from a point given to another point, and a circle describ'd from any centre at any distance whatsoever, or to receive for a principle that all right angles are equal; unless he have before-hand explicated what he means by these terms of point, line, centre, circle, right angle and di∣stance. So they are ridiculous who propose it for a principle, that every spiritual or immaterial thing is incorruptible and im∣mortal, before having defin'd (as they cannot do) what is spiri∣tual, immaterial and immortal. Yea, should these principles be granted to them, 'twould lye upon them to shew by natural reasons that the rational soul is spiritual, immaterial, indepen∣dent on the body in essence, and not to suppose these things as true. And though it were granted them (which is very questi∣onable) that the actions of men are of a higher degree then those of brutes, it would not follow from thence, that the reasonable soul is immortal and wholly abstracted from matter, but only that 'tis of a superior and more sublime order; as the phancy is a corporeal power as well as the sight, though its actions are much more excellent in comparison of this external sense, then the actions of the reasonable soul are in respect of the phancy which yields not much to it in its manner of acting. And yet they who write of the immortality of the soul, take this for a ground, and prove it by handsome congruities and probabili∣ties, but do not demonstrate it, because 'tis a truth which though most certain is withall very obscure, and may indeed be comprehended by faith which hath reveal'd it to us, but is too remote from our senses to be demonstrated by natural and sensi∣ble reasons.

II. Whether Travel be ne∣cessary to an ingenuous man.

Upon the second Point 'twas said, That man is naturally as much delighted with motion, as he is an enemy to rest: Be∣cause Being, which he most desires, consists in action, which is a motion; whereas rest is the cessation of actions, and conse∣quently an enemy of Being. 'Tis no wonder then that men are so desirous to travel, which is a sort of motion, since they are lead thereunto not only by the principles of their Being, which they have common with other animals (amongst which the most disciplin'd, as Elephants, Storks, Cranes, Swallows and Bees, change their climate from time to time) but also by the reason of their end and supream good which they find in travels. For since man's felicity in this life consists in knowledge, as appears by the desire every one hath to know and to appear knowing; and since the sight alone supplies more notions to the understand∣ing then all the senses together, which were all given to man in

order to knowledge; there is no more sure means of acqui∣ring this supream good then by furnishing the sight continually with various species, as travels do, wherein new objects always occur, which recreate the mind as much as like things disgust those that stir not from the same place; the understanding, like a consuming fire, languishing when it wants new objects for its food. Hence the sight of the same place wearies us, and the Civilians reckon it the first degree of servitude, to hinder one's neighbour the sight of one's house. Indeed the soul is a perpe∣tual motion; as the heavenly intelligences are never in the same place; but the earth, the most worthless element, remaining un∣moveable is the emblem of souls, like plants, fastned to the same spot of ground where they took birth. Wherein they seem to derogate from the advantage attributed by the Stoicks to man, when they say that he is a Citizen of the world; whence Seneca saith, Epist. 28. I was not born to abide in one corner of the earth, the whole world is my Country. The holy Scripture calls man's life a Pilgrimage, whereas he who stirs not from one place sets up his habitation in it, whom he ought to seek elsewhere. God would not have so much recom∣mended strangers and travellers, in the old Law, which he not only forbids to use ill, but also enjoyns to love as one's self. Exod. 22. 21. Levit. 19. 33. Nor would the Church have rec∣kon'd the entertaining of Pilgrims and travellers among works of mercy, but only the more to animate men to this honest and holy exercise. Wherefore not only, with Pythagoras, Travellers are in the guard of some God, and amongst the most barbarous Nations under the publick faith and protection; but also all Pagan Antiquity put them in the safe-guard of Jupiter the greatest of their Gods, whom they call Hospitable.

The Second said, That travels are necessary, either because they improve our knowledge or our virtues. But both these are very rare. Man's life is short, objects of knowledge are many; and we must rely upon the unanimous testimony of others for many things. And if men became more vertuous by frequenting with sundry Nations; then the ancient Hermits took a wrong course in hiding themselves in Desarts and Cloi∣sters, to find virtue there. For as for moral Prudence, motion and change of place is wholly contrary to it, as rest is the cause of it, and the cube was sometimes the Hieroglyphick of it. More∣over, since the inclinations follow the temper (which is also di∣versifi'd by various climates) they who never stay in one Coun∣try, but continually change climates, acquire habits and man∣ners, become inconstant, flitting and imprudent: were they not oblig'd to live after the fashion of the Country they reside in, at Rome as they do at Rome; and because our nature is more inclinable to evil then to good, they suffer themselves more easily to be carri'd to vice then to virtue, of which they meet but few examples: Which mov'd Lycurgus to forbid his Citi∣zens

to travel or retain strangers above 24 hours in their City, for fear the contagion of vice should come to corrupt the good manners of the Lacedemonians, as happen'd a long time after, when forgetting his precepts they gave entrance to barbarians, and other Nations, who infected and corrupted their City. And the Laws deny strangers the power of making wills and bequests, and such other priviledges, which they seem also to have renounc'd, by separating themselves from the community of their Country-men. Yea, if we believe the Philosopher they are no longer men being separated from humane society, as a part separated from the body is no longer a part of it. And the ingratitude of these wanderers to their own Country is just∣ly punishable, since they frustrate it of those services which they are oblig'd by right of their birth to pay to it: but in requital for the same they have a Proverb against them, That a rolling stone gathers no moss, they little improve their fortunes.

The Third said, Every Nation produces not every thing; and all climates have inhabitants excelling in some particulars. Since therefore there's no such learning as by examples, and tra∣vels afford the most, it follows that it's necessary for an ingenu∣ous man to survey foreign manners, institutions, customs, laws, religions, and such other things upon which moral prudence is superstructed. Whence Homer calls his wise Ʋlysses, the Tra∣veller, and Visiter of Cities. Moreover, 'twas practis'd in all ages not only by our ancient Nobility under the name of Knights errant, but also by the greatest personages of antiqui∣ty, Pythagoras, Socrates, Plato, Pliny, Hippocrates: and we ow to the Voyages of Columbus, Vesputius, Magellane, and some others, the discovery of America, and other new Lands formerly unknown; and abundance of Drugs and Medicaments, especi∣ally Gold and Silver, before so rare; not to mention the com∣modities of commerce which cannot be had without Voyages.

The Fourth said, That for seven vagabond errant Stars all the rest of the firmament are fix'd and stable, sending no malig∣nant influence upon the earth as the Planets do. And the Scri∣pture represents Satan to us as a Traveller, when he answers God in Job to the question whence he came, I come from going to and fro in the earth, and from walking up and down in it.

The Fifth said, We must distinguish persons, places, times, and other circumstances pertaining to voyages. For if you ex∣cept Embassies, in which the good of the State drowns all other considerations, those that would travel must be young and strong, rich, and well born, to get any good by their travels; otherwise they will be but like sick persons who receive no ease, but rather inconvenience, by tumbling and stirring; the inju∣dicious and imprudent returning commonly worse then they went, because they distract their minds here and there. Of which one troubled with the same disease of travelling, asking

Socrates the reason, he answer'd him that 'twas because he did not leave himself behind when he chang'd place, and that he ought to change his mind and not the air in order to become wise; it being impossible but he that is a fool in one Country, can become wise by passing Seas and running from one Province to another. As for places, 'tis certain, that before the voyages of Italy, and some other climates, the disease of Naples and other worse things were not only not so much as heard; but most contagious diseases have by this means been transfer'd into the remotest Countries. So that if ever it were reasonable for a man to be wise at another's cost, 'tis in the matter of travels; in which those that have perform'd most, commonly bring home no other fruit but a troublesome talkativeness, wherewith they tire peoples ears, and a sad remembrance of what they have suffer'd.

CONFERENCE LXXXVIII.

I. Which is the best sect of Philosophers. II. Whence comes the diversity of proper names.

I. Which is the best Sect of Philosophers.

ONe of the greatest signs of the defects of the humane mind, is that he seldom accomplishes his designs, and often mi∣stakes false for true. Hence ariseth the incertainty and varie∣ty in his judgements. For as there is but one straight line from one point to another, so if our judgements were certain they would be always alike, because Truth is one, and conformable to it self; whereas, on the contrary, Error is always various. This variety is of two sorts, one of the thing, the other of the way to attain it. For men were no sooner secur'd from the in∣juries of the air, and provided for the most urgent necessities of the body, but they divided themselves into two bands. Some following outward sense contented themselves with the present. Others would seek the causes of effects which they ad∣mir'd, that is to say, Philosophize. But in this inquisition they became of different judgements; some conceiving the truth al∣ready found, others thinking it could never be found, and others labouring in search of it, who seem to have most right to the name of Philosophers. The diversity of the way to arrive to this truth is no less. For according as any one was prone to vice or vertue, humility or pride (the probable cause of diver∣sity of Sects) he establish'd one sutable to his own inclination, to judge well of which, a man must be of no party, or, at least, must love the interest of truth most of all. But the question is, which is Truth; no doubt that which comes neerest the Judge's sentiment, and has gain'd his favour, as Venus did the good will

of Paris. And because the goodness of a thing consists in its sutableness, the contemplative man will judge Plato's Philoso∣phy better then that of Socrates, which one delighted with acti∣on and the exercise of vertues will prefer before all others; the indifferent will give the preeminence to that of the Peripate∣ticks who have conjoyn'd contemplation with action. And yet, speaking absolutely, 'tis impossible to resolve which is the best of all. For as we cannot know which is the greatest of two lines but by comparing them to some known magnitude; So neither can we judge which is the best Sect of Philosophers, unless it be agreed wherein the goodness of Philosophy consi∣der'd absolutely consists. Now 'tis hard to know what this goodness is, unless we will say 'tis God himself, who as he is the measure of all beings, so he is the rule of their goodness. So that the best Philosophy will be that which comes neerest that Supream Goodness, as Christian Philosophy doth, which con∣sists in the knowledge of one's self and the solid practice of ver∣tues, which also was that of S. Paul who desir'd to nothing but Jesus, and him crucifi'd; which he calls the highest wisdom, al∣though it appear folly in the eyes of men.

The Second said, That the first and ancientest Philosophy is that of the Hebrews, call'd Cabala, which they divided into that of Names or Schemot, and of things call'd by them Sephi∣roth. Whose excellency Josephus, against Appion, proves, because all other Philosophies have had Sects, but this always remain'd the same, and would lose its name if it were not transmitted from Father to Son in its integrity. 'Twas from this Cabala that Pythagoras, and Plato sirnamed Moses Atticus, took their Philo∣sophy, which they brought into Greece; as 'twas from the Indian Brachmans and Gymnosophists that Pythagoras took his Metem∣psychosis and abstinence from women and animals; and learn'd weights and measures formerly unknown in Greece. Some of these Indian Philosophers use to stand upon one foot all day be∣holding the Sun, and had so great respect for every thing indu'd with a soul, that they bought birds and other animals, and if any were sick kept them in hospitals till they were cur'd, and then set them free. The Persians likewise had their Magi, the Egyptians their Priests, the Chaldeans and Babylonians their Astrologers and Sooth-sayers; the Gaules their Druyds and Bards. But the Greeks had more plenty and variety then any. Their ancientest Philosophy was that of Musaeus, Linus, Orpheus, Hesiod, Homer, who cover'd the Science of natural and super∣natural things under the veil of Poetry and Fiction, till the time of Pherecydes, the master of Pythagoras, who first writ the same in Prose. Their Philosophers may be distinguish'd according to the diversity of subjects whereof they treat, whence they who amuz'd themselves about ratiocination were nam'd Logicians, the first of whom was Zeno. They who contemplated Nature, Naturalists, the first of whom was Thales; they who soar'd to

supernatural speculations, Metaphysitians, wherein Aristotle excell'd; those who regulated manners, Moralists, of whom Socrates was the principal, who was the son of a Sculptor and a Midwise. But their principal division is of their different Sects, which, though in great number, may be reduc'd to these follow∣ing I. The Academick, so called of the place where 'twas taught, so famous, that all places destinated to instruction in Liberal Sciences retain the same name at this day. 'Twas divi∣ded into three, namely, the old Academy, whereof Socrates and Plato were authors; the middle, which ow'd its instituti∣on to Archesilaus, author of the famous Epoche, or suspension of judgement concerning all things, whom for that reason Ter∣tullian calls Master of Ignorance; and the new founded by Car∣neades and Lacides, who held that there is something true, but 'twas incomprehensible, which was almost the same Sect with the Scepticks and Pyrrhoneans. II. The Cyrenaick introduc'd by Aristippus the Cyrenian, disciple of Socrates, who first took money for teaching others, and held it as one of his principal maximes, not to refuse any pleasure which presented it self to him, yet not to seek it. III. The Magarian, establish'd by Eu∣clides of Magara, which proceeded by interrogations. IV. The Cynick, founded by Antisthenes, Master to Diogenes, and Menip∣pus. V. The Stoick, whereof Zeno Cyttiensis, Auditor of Crates the Cynick, was author. VI. The Epicurean, of Epi∣curus the Athenian, who conceiv'd that every thing was made by chance, and that the chief good consisted in pleasure, some say of the body, others of the mind. VII. The Peripatetick, instituted by Aristotle. 'Twould be endless to relate the extra∣vagances of all particular persons. But I conceive that of the Cynicks was the most dishonest; that of the Stoicks, most ma∣jestical; that of the Epicureans, most blameable; that of Ari∣stotle, most honourable; that of the Academicks most safe; that of the Pyrrhoneans or Scepticks the most easie. For as 'tis not very creditable; so nothing is easier when any thing is ask'd of us then to say that we are incertain of it, instead of answering with certainty, or else to say that we know nothing of it; since to know our ignorance of a thing is not to be wholly ignorant of it.

The Third said, That the Sect of the Scepticks had more fol∣lowers then any other, (doubters being incomparably more nu∣merous then Doctors) and is the more likely to be true. For compare a Gorgias Leontinus, or other Sophister of old time, or one of the most vers'd in Philosophy in this age, who glory of knowing all, and of resolving all questions propounded, with a Pyrrhonean; the first will torture his wit into a thousand po∣stures, to feigen and perswade to the hearers what himself knows not, and by distinctions cast dust in their eyes, as the Cuttle-fish vomits Ink to soil the water when it finds it self caught. On the contrary, the Sceptick will freely confess the

debt, and whether you convince him or not, will always shew that he has reason to doubt. Nevertheless, though this Sect be the easiest, 'tis not in every thing the truest. For as 'tis teme∣rity and intolerable arrogance to pronounce sentence confident∣ly upon things which are hid to us, and whereof we have not any certain knowledge, as the quadrature of the circle, the du∣plication of the cube, the perpetual motion, the Philosophers Stone; so 'tis too gross stupidity to doubt of the existence of things, to judge whereof we need no other help but perfect senses; as that it is this day when the Sun shines, that the fire burns, and that the whole is greater then its parts.

The Fourth said, That Philosophy being the desire of Wisdom, or rather Wisdom it self, which is nothing else but a store of all the virtues Intellectual and Moral; that is the perfectest Philo∣phy which renders those addicted to it, most sure in their knowledge, and inclin'd to virtue. And because there was never sect but had some defect, neither in the theory or the pra∣ctice, the best of all is not to be any, but to imitate the Bee, and gather what is good of each sort, without espousing it; which was the way of Potamon of Alexandria, who, as Diogenes Laer∣tius records, founded a Sect call'd Elective, which allow'd every one to choose what was best in all Philosophies. 'Tis also the way that Aristotle held in all his Philosophy, especially, in his Physicks and Politicks, which are nothing but a collection of opinions of the Ancients; amongst whom he hath often taken whole pages out of Hippocrates, though he name him not. Nor are we more oblig'd to embrace Aristotle's Philosophy then he did that of his Predecessors; it being free for us to frame one out of his precepts, those of Raimond Lully, Ramus, and all others.

The Fifth said, That amongst all sects the most excellent, as also the most severe, is that of the Stoicks, whom Seneca ranks as much above other Philosophers, as men above women. Their manner of discoursing and arguing was so exquisite, that if the Gods, said one, would reason with men, they would make use of the Logick of Chrysippus the Stoick. Their Physicks treated partly of bodies, partly of incorporeal Beings, Bodies, according to them, are either principles or elements, which are ours. Their principles are two, God and Matter, which are the same with the Unity and Binary of Pythagoras, the fire and water of Thales. They call God the cause and reason of all things, and say that he is fire, not the common and elementary, but that which gives all things their being, life, and motion. And they believ'd that there is one God supremely good, bountiful and provident, but that he is single in his essence; herein following Pythagoras, who said that God is not so much one as Unity it self. Seneca saith, that he is all that thou seest, all intire in every part of the world which he sustaines by his power. Briefly, they conclude their natural knowledge of God as the sovereign cause, by his Providence, by Destiny, which he hath establish'd in all things,

and by the Genii, Heroes and Lares, whom they constitute Angels and Ministers of this Supreme Providence. The Second Principle, Matter, they make coeternal to God, grounding their doctrine upon the Maxime of Democritus, that as nothing can be annihilated, so nothing can be made of nothing. Which was likewise the error of Aristotle, who is more intricate then the Stoicks, in his explication of the first matter, which he desines to be almost nothing. True it is, they believ'd that every thing really existent was corporeal, and that there were but four things incorporeal, Time, Place, Vacuum, and the Accident of some thing; whence it follows, that not onely Souls, and God himself, but also the Passions, Virtues, and Vices, are Bodies; yea Animals, since according to their supposition the mind of man is a living animal, inasmuch as 'tis the cause that we are such; but Virtues and Vices, say they, are nothing else but the mind so dispos'd. But because knowledge of sublime things is common∣ly more pleasant then profitable, and that, according to them, Philosophy is the Physick of the Soul, they study chiefly to era∣dicate their Vices and Passions. Nor do they call any wise but him that is free from all fear, hope, love, hatred, and such other passions, which they term the diseases of the Soul. Moreover, 'twas their Maxime, that Virtue was sufficient to Happiness, that it consisted in things not in words, that the sage is absolute master not onely of his own will, but also of all men; that the supream good consisted in living according to nature, and such other conclusions, to which being modifi'd by faith, I willingly sub∣scribe, although Paradoxes to the vulgar.

II. Whence comes the di∣versity of pro∣per names.

Upon the Second Point 'twas said, That a name is an artificial voice representing a thing by humane institution, who being unable to conceive all things at once, distinguish the same by their differences either specifical or individual; the former by appellative names, and the other by proper, as those of Cities, Rivers, Mountains, and particularly those of men, who also give the like to Horses, Dogs, and other domestick creatures. Now since conceptions of the Mind, which represent things, have affinity with them, and words with conceptions, it follows that words have also affinity with things, by the Maxime of Agree∣ment in the same third. Therefore, the wise, to whom alone it belongs to assign names, have made them most conformable to the nature of things. For example, when we pronounce the word Nous, we make an attraction inwards. On the contra∣ry, in pronouncing Vous, we make an expulsion outwards. The same holds in the voices of Animals, and those arising from the sounds of inanimate things. But 'tis particularly observ'd, that proper names have been tokens of good or bad success arri∣ving to the bearers of them, whence arose the reasoning of the Nominal Philosophers, and the Art of Divination, by names call'd Onomatomancy; and whence Socrates advises Fathers to give

their Children good names, whereby they may be excited to Virtue; and the Athenians forbad their slaves to take the names of Harmodius and Aristogiton, whom they had in reverence. Lawyers enjoyn heed to be taken to the name of the accused, in whom 'tis capital to disguise it; and Catholicks affect those of the Law of Grace, as Sectaries do those of the old Law, the ori∣ginals whereof were taken from circumstances of the Bodie; as from its colour the Romans took those of Albus, Niger, Nigidius, Ful∣vius, Ruffus, Flavius; we, those of white, black, grey, red-man, &c. from its habit, Crassus, Macer, Macrinus, Longus, Longinus, Cur∣tius; we, le Gros, long, tall, &c, From its other accidents, the Latines took Caesar, Claudius, Cocles, Varus, Naso; we, le Gou∣teux, (gowty,) le Camus, (flat-nos'd,) from Virtues or Vices, Tranquillus, Severus; we, hardy, bold, sharp; from Profession, Parson, Serjeant, Marshal, and infinite others. But chiefly, the names of places have been much affected even to this day, even since the taking of the name of the family for a sirname. And if we cannot find the reason of all names and sirnames, 'tis because of the confusion of languages, and alteration happening therein upon frequent occasions.

The Fourth said, That the cause of names is casual, at least in most things, as appears by equivocal words, and the common observation of worthless persons, bearing the most glorious names; as amongst us, a family whose males are the tallest in France, bears the name of Petit. Nor can there be any affinity between a thing and a word, either pronounc'd or written; and the Rabbins endeavour to find in Hebrew names, (which, if any, must be capable of this correspondence, in regard of Adam's great knowledge, who impos'd them) is no less an extravagance then that of matters of Anagrams. In brief, if Nero signifi'd an ex∣ecrable Tyrant, why was he so good an Emperor the first five years? And of that name import any token of a good Prince, why was he so execrable in all the rest of his life?

CONFERENCE LXXXIX.

I. Of Genii. II. Whether the Suicide of the Pagans be justifiable.

I. Of Genii.

PLato held three sorts of reasonable natures; the Gods in Heaven, Men on Earth, and a third middle nature be∣tween those two, whose mansion is from the sphere of the Moon to the Earth; he calls them Genii, from their being the causes of Generations here below, and Daemons from their great know∣ledge. These Genii, whom his followers accounted to be sub∣tile bodies, and the instruments of Divine Providence, are, ac∣cording to them, of three sorts, Igneous, Aereous, and Aqueous;

the first excite to contemplation, the second to action, the third to pleasure. And 'twas the belief of all Antiquity, that every person had two Genii; one good, which excited to honesty and virtue, (as the good Genius of Socrates) whom they reckon'd in order of the Igneous; and the other bad, who incited to evil, such as that was which appeard to Brutus, and told him he should see him at Philippi. Yet none can perceive the assist∣ance of their Genius, but onely such whose Souls are calm and free from passions and perturbations of life. Whence Avicenna saith, that onely Prophets and other holy Personages have found their aid, in reference to the knowledge of future things, and government of life. For my part, I think these Genii are nothing else but our reasonable souls, whose intellectual and superior part, which inclines us to honest good, and to virtue, is the good Genius; and the sensitive inferior part which aims onely to sensible and delightful good, is the evil genius which inces∣santly sollicites us to evil. Or if the Genii be any thing with∣out us, they are no other then our good and evil Angels, constituted, the former to guard us, the second to make us stand upon our guard. Moreover, 'twas expedient that since inferior bodies receive their motion from the superior, so spiri∣tual substances inherent in bodies should be assisted in their operations by superior spirits free from matter; as 'tis an ordinary thing in Nature for the more perfect to give law to such as are less in the same kind. And not onely men, but also all other parts of the world, have Angels deputed to their conservation; tutelary Angels being nothing but the organs of Divine Provi∣dence, which embraces all things.

The Second said, That the Genii produce in us those effects whereof we know not the cause; every one finding motions in himself to good or evil, proceeding from some external power; yea, otherwise then he had resolved. Simonides was no sooner gone out of a house but it fell upon all the company; and 'tis said, that as Socrates was going in the fields he caus'd his friends who were gone before him to be recall'd, saying, that his familiar spirit forbad him to go that way; which those that would not listen to were all mired, and some torn and hurt by a herd of swine. Two persons, formerly unknown, love at the first sight; allies, not knowing one another, oftimes feel themselves seiz'd with un∣usual joy; one man is alwayes unfortunate, to another every thing succeeds well; which cannot proceed but from the favour or opposition of some Genii. Hence also some Genii are of greater power then others, and give men such authority over other men that they are respected and fear'd by them. Such was the Genius of Augustus, in comparison of Mark Antonie, and that of J. Caesar against Pompey. But though nothing is more common then the word Genius, yet 'tis not easie to understand the true meaning of it. Plato saith, 'tis the guardian of our lives. Epictetus, the over-seer and sentinel of the Soul. The Greeks call it the

Mystagogue, or imitator of life, which is our guardian Angel. The Stoicks made two sorts; one singular, the Soul of every one; the other universal, the Soul of the world. Varro, as Saint Au∣gustine reports, in his eighth book of the City of God, having di∣vided the immortal Souls which are in the Air, and mortal which are in the Water and Earth, saith, that between the Moon and the middle region of the Air, there are aerious Souls call'd Heroes, Lares, and Genii, of which an Ancient said, it is as full as the Air is full of flies in Summer; as Pythagoras said, that the Air is full of Souls, which is not dissonant from the Catholick Faith, which holds, that Spirits are infinitely more numerous then corporeal substances; because as celestial bodies are in∣comparably more excellent and ample then sublunary, so pure Spirits, being the noblest works of God, ought to be in greater number then other creatures. What the Poets say of the Genius which they feign to be the Son of Jupiter and the earth, repre∣senting him sometimes in the figure of a serpent (as Virgil do's that which appear'd to Aenaeas,) sometimes of a horn of plenty, which was principally the representation of the Genius of the Prince, by which his flatterers us'd to swear, and their sacri∣ficing Wine and Flowers to him, is as mysterious as all the rest.

The Third said, That the Genius is nothing but the tempe∣rament of every thing, which consists in a certain harmonious mixture of the four qualities, and being never altogether alike, but more perfect in some then in others, is the cause of the di∣versity of actions. The Genius of a place is its temperature, which being seconded with celestial influences, call'd by some the superior Genii, is the cause of all productions herein. Pre∣pensed crimes proceed from the melancholy humour; the Ge∣nius of anger and murders is the bilious humour; that of idle∣ness, and the vices it draws after it, is phlegme; and the Ge∣nius of love is the sanguine humour. Whence to follow one's Genius is to follow one's natural inclinations, either to good or to evil.

II. Whether the Suicide of the Pagans be justifiable.

Upon the Second Point 'twas said, That evil appears such onely by comparison, and he that sees himself threatned with greater evils then that of death, ought not onely to attend it without fear, but seek it as the onely sovereign medicine of a desperate malady. What then, if death be nothing, as the Pagans believ'd, and leave nothing after it. For we must distinguish Paganisme, and Man consider'd in his pure state of nature, from Christianity and the state of Grace. In the former, I think Diogenes had rea∣son, when meeting Speusippus languishing with an incurable disease who gave him the good day, he answer'd, I wish not you the like, since thou sufferest an evil from which thou maist deliver thy self; as accordingly he did when he returned home. For all that they fear'd in their Religion after death, was, Not-Being

what their Fasti taught them of the state of souls in the other life being so little believ'd that they reckon'd it amongst the Fables of the Poets. Or if they thought they left any thing behind them, 'twas only their renown, of which a couragious man that kill'd himself had more hope then the soft and effemi∣nate. The same is still the custom of those great Sea Captains, who blow themselves up with Gun-powder to avoid falling into the enemies hands. Yet there's none but more esteems their re∣solution, then the demeanor of cowards who yield at mercy. This is the sole means of making great Captains and good Soul∣diers by their example, to teach them not to fear death, not to hold it, with poltron Philosophers, the most terrible of terribles. And to judge well of both, compare we the abjectness of a Per∣seus, a slave led in triumph, with the generosity of a Brutus, or a Cato Ʋticensis. For 'twere more generous to endure patiently the incommodities of the body, the injuries of an enemy, and the infamy of death, if man had a spirit proof against the strokes of fortune. But he though he may ward himself with his courage, yet he can never surmount all sort of evils; and according to the opinion of the same Philosopher, all fear is not to be rejected. Some evils are so vehement that they cannot be disposed without stupidity, as torments of the body, fire, the wheel, the loss of honour, and the like, which 'tis oftentimes better to abandon then vainly to strive to overcome them. Wherefore, as 'tis weakness to have recourse to death for any pain whatsoever, so 'twas an ignominious cowardize amongst the Pagans to live only for grief.

The Second said, That nature having given all individuals a particular instinct for self-preservation, their design is unnatural who commit homicide upon themselves. And if civil intestine wars are worse then forreign, then the most dangerous of all is that which we make to our selves. Wherefore the ancients, who would have this brutality pass for a virtue, were ridiculous, because acknowledging the tenure of their lives from some Dei∣ty, 'twas temerity in them to believe they could dispose thereof to any then the donor, and before he demanded it. In which they were as culpable as a Souldier that should quit his rank without his Captain's leave, or depart from his station where he was plac'd Sentinel. And did not virtue, which is a habit, re∣quire many reiterated acts, which cannot be found in Suicide, since we have but one life to lose; yet this action could not pass for a virtue, since Fortitude appears principally in sufferings and miseries; which to avoid by death is rather cowardize and madness then true courage. Wherefore the Poet justly blames Ajax, for that, after he had overcome Hector, despis'd fire and flames, yet he could not subdue his own choler, to which he sa∣crific'd himself. And Lucretia much blemish'd the lustre of her chastity by her own murder; for if she was not consenting to Tarquin's crime, why did she pollute her hands with the blood

of an innocent, and for the fault which another had commit∣ted; punishments as well as offences being personal. He who kills himself only through weariness of living is ingrateful for the benefits of nature, of which life is the chief: if he be a good man, he wrongs his Country by depriving it of one, and of the ser∣vices which he owes to it; as he wrongs Justice, if he be a wick∣ed person that hath committed some crime, making himself his own witness, Judge, and Executioner. Therefore the Prince of Poets places those in hell who kill'd themselves, and all Laws have establish'd punishments against them, depriving them of sepulture, because, saith Egesippus, he that goes out of the world without his father's leave deserves not to be receiv'd into the bosom of his mother, the earth. I conclude therefore, that the ignorant dreads death, the timerous fears it, the fool pro∣cures it to himself, and the mad man executes it, but the wise attends it.

The Third said, That the generous resolution of those great men of antiquity ought rather to have the approbation then the scorn of a reasonable mind; and 'tis proper to low spirits to cen∣sure the examples which they cannot imitate. 'Tis not meet, because we are soft, to blame the courage of a Cato, who as he was tearing his own bowels could not forbear laughing even while his soul was upon his lips, for joy of his approaching deli∣verance; nor the constancy of a Socrates, who to shew with what contentedness he received death, convers'd with it, and di∣gested what others call its bitterness, without any trouble, the space of forty days. Sextius and Cleanthes the Philosopher fol∣low'd almost the same course. Only they had the more honour, for that their deaths were purely voluntary. For the will forc'd by an extrinsecal cause, performs nothing above the vul∣gar who can obey the laws of necessity: but when nothing forces us to dye but our selves, and we have good cause for it, this death is the most gallant and glorious. Nor is it injust, as is pretended, any more then the Laws which suffer a man to cut off his leg for avoiding a Gangrene. Why should not the Jugular Vein be as well at our choice as the Median? For as I transgress not the Laws against Thieves when I cut my own Purse, nor those against Incendiaries when I burn my own wood; so neither am I within the Laws made against murther∣ers, by depriving my self of life: 'tis my own good which I abandon, the thred which I cut is my own. And what is said, that we are more the publick's then our own, hath no ground but in our pride, which makes us take our selves for such neces∣sary pieces of the world as not to be dismember'd from it with∣out a noble loss to that great body. Besides, were we so use∣full to the world, yet our own turn must be first serv'd. Let us live then, first for our selves, if it be expedient; next, for others: but when life becomes worse then death, let us quit it as we do an inconvenient or unbecoming garment. Is it not a sign

of generosity to make Gouts, Stones, Aches and all other Plagues of life yield to the stroke of a victorious hand, which alone blow puts an end to more maladies then all the simples of Galen, and the Antidotes of Avicenna.

The Fourth said, He could not approve the determination of the Stoicks, who say that vulgar souls live as long as they can; those of the wise, as long as 'tis fit, departing out of life as we do from the table, or from play when we are weary. That the examples of Priseia who accompani'd her husband in death; of Piso, who dy'd to save his children; of Sextus's daughter who kill'd her self for her father; of Zeno who did as much, to avoid the in∣commodities of old age (which made it pass for piety at Rome, a long time, to cast decrepit old men head-long from a Bridge in∣to Tiber) are as culpable as he who surrenders a place when he is able to defend it. For whereas Plato exempts such from the punishment against sui-cides who committed it to avoid infamy or intolerable necessity; and what Pliny saith, that nature hath for this end produc'd so many poysonous Plants for five or six sorts of Corn, that there is but one way to enter into the world, but infinite to go out of it; the imputing it to stupidity not to go out of a prison when one hath the key, adding that 'tis law∣ful to execute that which 'tis lawful to desire, as S. Paul did his own death; yea the example which is alledged of Sampson, of Razias, and of eleven thousand Virgins who precipitated them∣selves into the sea to save their chastity; in the Church are effects of a particular inspiration, not to be drawn into consequence, and out of it examples of rage and despair disguis'd with the mask of true fortitude and magnanimity, which consists chiefly in supporting evils, as the presidents of so many religious souls attest to us.

CONFERENCE XC.

I. Of Hunting. II. Which is to be prefer'd, the weeping of Heraclitus, or the laughing of Democritus.

I. Of Hunting.

IF the least of goods hath its attractions, 'tis no wonder if Hunting (wherein are comprehended the three sorts of good, honest, profitable, and delightful) have a great interest in our affection; being undoubtely preferrable before any other exercise either of body or mind. For Play, Women, Wine, and all the pleasure which Luxury can phancy in superfluity of Clothes, Pictures, Flowers, Medals, and such other passions, not unfitly nam'd diseases of the soul, are divertisements either so shameful, or so weak, that they cannot enter into comparison

with hunting, so honest that it hath been always the recreation of great persons, whose martial courage us'd to be judg'd of by their inclination to this sport, which Xenophon calls the appren∣tisage of War, and recommends so much to Cyrus in his Institu∣tion, as Julius Pollux doth to the Emperour Commodus. Its profitableness is chiefly discern'd in that it renders the body dex∣trous and active, preserves health, and by inuring it to labour makes a firm constitution, hindring it from being delicate, con∣sumes the superfluous humours, the seeds of most diseases. Lastly, the pleasure of Hunting must needs be great, since it makes the Hunters think light of all their pains and incommo∣dities. The mind has its pleasure in it by hope of the prey in such as hunt for profit, and by the contentment of possessing what they sought: besides the consideration of the subtilty of the Fox and Wolf, the trouble which the Hare gives her dis∣pleas'd pursuers.

The Second said, 'Tis the only pleasure which does wrong to no person, but delivers Countries from the injuries and depre∣dations of beasts. And though 'tis the most laborious of all pleasures, yet 'tis least follow'd by repentance, and instead of wearying those that are once addicted to it, makes them love it in excess, for which reason 'tis prohibited to the meaner sort of people. All the Heroes are represented under the form of Hunters; as Perseus who first hunted the wild Goat; Castor who taught the management of the horse, before wild, to chase the Stag; Pollux who first trac'd beasts with Lime-hounds; Melea∣ger who invented the Spears to assault the Boar; Hyppolytus, Toyles, Hayes, and Nets; Orion, Kennels and Leashes; which were so admir'd in his age, that the Poets translated him into Heaven, where he makes a glorious sign, as they put Castor and Pollux among the Gods, and feign'd a Diana the Goddess of Hunters. Moreover, the holy Scripture gives Nimrod, the first King in the world, no greater title then that of Mighty Hunter. And the good man Isaac would not give his blessing to his son Esau, till after he had brought him of his Venison.

The Third said, That Man being since the loss of his domini∣on over the beasts, by his sin, oblig'd to defend himself against their invasion, this gave rise to hunting, which is consequently as ancient as the world. There are three sorts of it, according to the three sorts of animals which it pursues, in the air, on the earth, and in the waters; namely, Hawking, Hunting properly so call'd, and Fishing. Hawking is the pursuit of Birds by Birds, and its of divers kinds according to the diversity of Hawks and quarries. Hunting is the chase of four-footed beasts, which are either great, as Lyons, Bears, Stags, Boars; or small, as Wolves, Foxes, Badgers and Hares. Both the one and the other is perform'd by Dogs, of which there are good of all sizes and colours, and some peculiar to one sort of Game. Fishing is the venation of Fishes, whereof Plato makes two kinds; one

by the Line, and the other by Nets, the more recommendable in that 'twas practis'd by the Apostles, and our Lord himself, who was figur'd by the first Christians under the Hieroglyphicks of a Fish, with the Greek word 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, which they explicated thus by the first Letters of that Language, Jesus Christ, God, our Saviour.

The Fourth said, That Hunting being as various as men's conditions, its variety makes it as agreeable as necessary; gun∣ning, which is the least, instructs the Souldier to shoot exactly, to be patient, and fits him for war, especially the hunting of the Badger, who makes head in his entries, then fights from trench to trench; and at length retreats to his last fort, where he pra∣ctises all the sleights of war usual in besieg'd Cities, till he be ta∣ken by the undermining of the Pioneers. For Pythagoras his prohibition to kill animals, is no less light then his Metempsy∣chosis; or his reason to forbear fishing, or eating of fish, out of respect to their silence. The objection, that God permitted our first Parents to eat the fruits of the earth, not the flesh of ani∣mals, and that during two thousand years none was eaten, con∣cludes nothing from a Negative Authority; and Abel spar'd not the life of the Lamb of his flock, which he offer'd to God, then God had done that of the beasts, of whose skins he made Coats for Adam and Eve. And God's prohibition to the Jews to eat any thing taken by a beast, as Dogs or Birds, being abolish'd to∣gether with other ceremonies. Moreover, all animals being made for man, they have no reason to complain, if they be ap∣ply'd to that end, but especially the hunting of mischievous beasts is profitable.

II. Which is to be prefer'd, the weeping of Heracli∣tus, or the laughing of Democritus.

Upon the second Point 'twas said, That in this Question, to justifie weeping, we have the example of our Lord, whom we read not ever to have been seen laughing, not even at the mar∣riage feast whereat he was present; but he lamented the death of Lazarus, though he knew that himself was going to raise him up again. And he compares the entrance into Paradise to the gate of a Judge, which a good woman cannot get open, nor move the Judge to do her justice, but by many com∣plaints and tears: and he pronounceth the house of mourning blessed, saying, that GOD abides there: on the contrary, laughter and rejoycing not onely were the fore∣runners of the Deluge, but at present occasion a thousand offences against God, our Neighbour, and our Selves. More∣over, all the Exhortations and Sermons of Preachers tend only to move tears of contrition; and some observe, in the trial of Witches and Conjurers, that they never weep, which is a cer∣tain argument of an ill nature, especially in women and chil∣dren. And Dido, speaking of the ingrateful Aeneas, more resents his not weeping when he bid her adieu, then all the rest. For we are naturally inclin'd to weeping, as being the most humid

of all animals; and nature seems to have made the brain only for the eyes, which being always moist have also a glandule in the greater corner, call'd (from its office) Lachrymalis, which is a spungy flesh full of little holes, serving to attract the moisture of the brain which furnishes the matter of tears, and disperses it drop by drop, lest falling too much together, the brain should be left dry, which is a temper contrary to its natural one. Now as for objects without us, 'tis evident there is more cause of weeping then of laughter. For if we look under our feet, there the ground presents it self, which sooner then every one hopes is to bury every on's ambition, and afford him but six foot of earth; if on each side of us, there appear so many miseries, that the Spaniards, who are accustom'd thereunto, say proverbi∣ally that they who are afflicted with the miseries of others bear the whole world upon their shoulders. If upwards, what a cause of sadness is it to see that so great and vast a Kingdom is at this day in less esteem then the meanest part of this valley of tears, the earth, and to see God dishonour'd so many ways. Come we down to our selves; the infirmities of the body, the af∣flictions of the mind, all the passions of the soul and the crosses of fortune, have made those that have most tasted the pleasures of this life, acknowledge that it is nothing but thorns and miseries, and with the wise man, nothing but vanity: of which not to speak a word, were to be insensible; to laugh, impiety; and to imitate Aesop's Snails who laugh'd at their cost. It remains, therefore, that 'tis wisdom to bewail them.

The Second said, There is a time to weep, and a time to laugh, as the Wiseman testifies; so that to do either continually is equally vicious: Yet laughter being most sutable to man who is defin'd by the faculty he hath to laugh, and not by that of weeping, which is common to Harts and Crocodiles, who shed true tears, and other beasts weep after their manner, but none laughs: I conceive that the laughter of Democritus was lesse blameable then the weeping of Heraclitus; whose tears render'd him odious and iusupportable to all the world, which, on the contrary, is greatly pleas'd with the company of laughers, and easily side with them. Moreover, their Jovial and sanguine hu∣mour is always to be preferr'd before the Saturnine and melan∣choly humour of weepers, who are their own greatest enemies, exhausting their moisture, and by concentration of the spirits hindring the free functions of reason. Whereas laughter which is a sign of joy and contentment dilates the spirits, and causes all the actions of life to be perform'd better. And the laughter of Democritus exciting the like motion of joy in the spectators; their joy dilated their spirits, and render'd them more docible and capable to receive his counsels.

The Third said, That as a Physitian were no lesse imperti∣nent in laughing at his Patient, then imprudent in weeping for the malady which he sees him endure: So Democritus and He∣raclitus

were as ridiculous, the one as the other, in laughing at, or lamenting the misery of men. Moreover, it seems to be a sign of repentance, that he put out his own eyes, and not to Philosophize the better: otherwise he should have done as one that cut off his own legs that he might leap the better; since the eyes are the windows of the soul, whereby it admits almost all its informations. Heraclitus therefore was more excusable; because tears proceed from charity and compassion, but laugh∣ter is an effect of contempt, and procures us as much hatred as the other do's affection. Besides, Democritus's laughter could neither make others better, nor himself; for what profit can be made by the ironies and gibes of a mocker. On the contrary, tears are so perswasive, that Augustus, as subtle as he was, suffer'd himself to be deceiv'd by those of Cleopatra, and believ'd her willing to live when she had resolv'd to dye.

The Fourth said, That both of them had reason, considering the vanity of the things of the world, which are equally ridicu∣lous and deplorable. For though laughter and weeping seem contraries, yet they may proceed from the same cause. Some Nations have wept at the birth of their children, whereas we make exultations. Many have laugh'd at Alexander who wept because he had no more worlds to conquer. Xerxes wept when he beheld his goodly Army, of which not one person was to be left after a hundred years, whilst a Philosopher of his train laugh'd at it. And in both passions there is a retraction of the nerves; whence the features of the countenance of one that laughs are like those of him that weeps. Moreover, the three subjects which may oblige men to laughter, namely, the crosses of furtune, and what they call Virtue and Science, afford equal matter of laughing and weeping. When for∣tune casts down such as she had advanc'd to the top of her wheel, are not they as worthy of commiseration as of derision, for having trusted to her inconstancy? When our Gentry cut one another's throats for an ambiguous word, lest they should seem cowards, are they not as deplorable as ridiculous, in taking the shadow of virtue for it self? And as for Science, should these two Philosophers come from the dead, and behold our youth spend ten years in learning to speak, and all our Philoso∣phy reduc'd to a bundle of obscure distinctions, would not they dye once more with equal reason, the one with weeping, and the other with laughing?

CONFERENCE XCI.

I. Whether heat or cold be more tolerable. II. Who are most happy in this World, Wise Men or Fools.

I. Whether heat or cold be more tolera∣ble.

COmparison moves us more then any other thing. And though no sense be less fallacious then the Touch, yet 'tis guided by comparison as well as the rest. Thus Caves seem cold in the Summer, because we come out of the hot air; and hot in Winter, because the same air which we forsake is cold, the Cave remaining always in the same temper, without recur∣ring to those Antiperistases which have no foundation in the thing; the organs of the Touch being the sole competent judges of the several degrees of tangible qualities; the first of which are heat and cold, provided those Organs be neither too ob∣tuse, as in the Paralytical, nor too exquisite as when the nerve lyes naked. 'Tis requisite also that the man who judges be in health, for he that has an Ague thinks nothing too cold in his hot fit, and nothing too hot or so much as temperate during the cold fit; so the phlegmatick and melancholy bear heat better then cold, the bilious and sanguine the latter better then the former, as correcting the excess of their own temper. Now at first sight heat seems more supportable, because more congruous to life, which consists in heat (by which Galen defines the soul) as death in its contrary, cold. Moreover nature hath made the hot Climates more large and capacious then the cold, which are two very streight ones, although she hath supply'd those Regions with the remedy of Furs: all the rest of the world is either hot or temperate, and always more hot then cold. Nevertheless, I conclude for cold, because heat joyn'd to our heat renders it excessive, whereas cold being encounter'd by it, there results a temperate third. Besides, the opposition of cold redoubles the natural heat; whence we have greater appetite in Winter then in Summer, sleep longer, and perform all natural functions better, and are more cheerful in mind: whereas in Summer our bodies and minds are languid, and less capable of labour; and 'tis more dangerous, in reference to health, to cool our selves in Summer then to heat our selves in in Winter; the first occasioning, the latter preventing most diseases.

The Second said, That cold being an enemy to nature, it ex∣cess must be more hurtful, and consequently more insupportable then that of heat, particularly that of the Sun. For this grand Luminary, the soul of the Universe, and whose heat is the cause of all generations, must also be that of their preservation not of their destruction. Whence the excess of his heat is much

more tolerable then that of cold. Moreover, hot Countries are more fertile, and the Scripture teaches us that the first Colonies came from the South: Yea, some Doctors place the Terrestrial Paradise under the Aequinoctial: whence it follows that hot Regions having been first inhabited, have also been most habi∣table: even the Torrid Zone, thought unhabitable by all anti∣quity, experience hath found very populous; whereas the cold are but very little habitable, and not at all, beyond the 78 degree.

The Third said, That the heat which preserves our lives is natural, gentle, and agreeable, not extraneous, as that meant in the question is. Therefore external cold must be compar'd with heat, likewise external and extraneous, not with the vital heat, which is of a more sublime order then these elementary qualities. Now 'tis certain external heat is more powerful and active then external cold, since it consumes and dissolves Me∣tals, which cold cannot, and is more hurtful because it dries up humidity which is the foundation of life. 'Tis also less tolera∣ble; for we can bear the touch of the coldest body in the world, namely Ice, yea eat it without harm; but none could ever re∣sist flames. Whence fire is the cruellest of punishments, not cold, from which, besides, we may more easily defend our selves then from excessive heat, which may be abated a little by winds, shadows, or other artifices, but not wholly, as cold is by help of fire, clothes, and motion.

The Fourth said, If it be true which Cardan saith, that cold is nothing but a privation of heat, Nature, which dreads no∣thing so much as non-entity, must abhor it most; nor can it be any way active, since that which exists not cannot act. But I will suppose, as 'tis most probable, that both the one and the other are positive entities, since cold enters into the composition of bodies as well as heat, the bones, membranes, skin, nerves, and all but the fleshy parts, being cold, as also the brain, the noblest part of man. And I conceive that heat and cold, con∣sider'd either as internal principles of a living body, or as two external agents, enemies of life, cold is always more hurtful then heat. On the one side hot distempers alter the functions, but cold abolish them, depriving us of sense, motion and life, as in the Lethargy, Apoplexie, Epilepsie, and other cold diseases. And on the other, external heat indeed draws forth part of our spirits, and thereby weakens us, whence come faintings after too hot a bath, or too great a fire: but it never wholly quenches and destroys them; as the light of the Sun drowns that of a Candle at noon, but do's not extinguish it.

The Fifth said, Because, as Hippocrates saith, in his Aphorisms, some natures are best in Winter, others in Summer; as old men are not much inconvenienc'd by the most vehement heats, whereas cold kills them; on the contrary, young people of hot tempers endure heat more impatiently then cold; and there is no temperament ad pondus or exact; Reason must be call'd to

the aid of our senses, not only to judge of moist and dry, as Galen thinks, but also of hot and cold: which being absolutely consider'd in their own nature, without respect to us, I conceive heat much more active then cold, and consequently, less sup∣portable: because the more a thing hath of form, and less of matter, 'tis the more active; the one of these principles being pure∣ly active, and the cause of all natural actions, the other simply passive. Thus the earth and water are dull and heavy ele∣ments, in comparison of the air and fire, which are less dense and material: Heaven, the universal cause of all sublunary things, is a form without matter, as Averroës affirms. Now heat rari∣fies and dilates its subject, and seems to make it more spiritual, and so is more active then cold, which condenses and stops all the pores and passages. Which also appears, in that the hottest diseases are the most acute; and if cold diseases kill sometimes, they charm and dull the senses, and so render death more gen∣tle and supportable. On the contrary, the cruellest deaths, great pains, and the most violent diseases, are ordinarily caus'd by some hot humour. Hence it is that no person dyes without a Fever; and Hippocrates affirms that the same heat which gene∣rates us kills us. In fine, God, who is the prime Reason, hath judg'd heat more active, and less supportable then cold, since he appoints fire to torment the devils and damned souls.

II. Who are most happy in this world, Wise Men or Fools.

Upon the second Point 'twas said, As there is but one right line, and infinite crooked, so there is but one wisdom, and one way to attain it, namely, to follow right reason; but follies are of all sorts, and of as many fashions as there are different minds which conceive things under divers apparences of good∣ness. So that the number of fools being greater then that of wise, men, these will always lose their cause. Moreover, if happiness be well defin'd by contentment, who is there but ac∣counts fools more happy then the wise? Witness he, who other∣wise intelligent enough, was a fool in this only point, that he would diligently repair alone to the Theatre, and phancy that he saw and heard the Actors, and applauded them, although no body was there besides himself: but being cur'd of his folly, he complain'd of his friends in stead of thanking them, for ha∣ving been too careful to render him miserable, being a happy man before. Besides, folly hath this priviledge, that we bear with that truth from the mouth of a fool which would be odi∣ous in another: and the tribe of fools is indeed exceeding great, since we are born such; for a child is agreeable upon no other account but its simplicity, which is nothing else but folly; by which many faults are excusable in youth, which are not to be endur'd in other ages. And those whom we account hap∣piest, and that dye of old age, end thus; and are therefore call'd twice children; and folly serves to take away the sense of all the discontents and incommodities of old age. Yea he that more

neerly considers the course of our life will find more of folly in it then of wisdom. For if self-conceit, play, love, and the other passions, be so many follies, who is free from it?

The Second said, That wise men alone are happy, is justly ac∣counted a Stoical Paradox, since 'tis contrary to true natural sentiments, which shew us that the happiness of this life consists only in two points, namely, in the privation of grief, and the possession of good. As for the first, not to speak of bodily pains, from which the wise are no more exempt then fools, the strongest minds are more intelligent by their more vigorous rea∣soning, and (consequently) more susceptible of inward grief and affliction, of hope, fear, desire, and as other passions; besides that they are ordinary of a melancholy temper, and more fix'd upon their objects then fools, who are more inconstant: to say nothing of the scruples of conscience, which many times rack their spirits, of the points of honour, of civilities, nor of the knotty questions in the Sciences. As for the latter, the posses∣sion of good, fools have a better share then the wise, because there is no absolute, but onely relative, good in this world; whence proceeded the many different opinions touching the chief good, and the saying, that none is truly happy unless he thinks himself so. And therefore there are more fools then wise happy. For the latter discerning the meaness and vanity of the goods of the world, account it no happiness to possess them, but strain their wits to find others more solid, which they will never find in this world: whereas the former live con∣tented and happy in the quiet enjoyment of their present goods, beyond which they wish no others. Moreover, our happiness and contentment depends upon our selves, that is, upon our own imagination, as appears in the Hospitals of fools, who are so far from resenting the horror and misery wherein they really are, that, on the contrary, they flatter themselves with their agreeable phancies of being Kings, Emperors, and very gods; from which they take more pleasure then they give to others. As also in that Athenian, who imagining all the ships in the Pirae∣an Haven to be his, rejoyc'd for their return, and su'd his friends at Law for curing him of this agreeable folly. In fine, according to the meer sentiments of nature, the people of the world addicting themselves to all sorts of pleasures, are more happy then those who deny the same to themselves, in obedience to the counsels of the Gospel; and yet in the judgement of God, who is the rule of true wisdom, these are wise, and the other fools. Lastly, the Law is favorable to fools in the perpetration of great crimes, their defect of will being their security. For which reason we call them Innocents.

The Third said, This Question is the harder to be deter∣min'd, because there is no judge but is a party. But if we refer our selves to the wise, as it belongs to them to determine things, they will judge it to their own advantage. And indeed, to place

felicity of the mind in the total alienation of the mind, or in the several degrees of the same, is no less preposterous then to place the pleasure of the body in pain or diseases. For man's felicity or chief good consists not in opinion; otherwise it were not true, but only imaginary, and so man alone, amongst all the creatures, could not be truly happy. But this beatitude of man consists in his end; this end is his action; the action of man, as man, is that which renders him like to God by contemplation and ver∣tue, the two most perfect operations of the understanding and the will, proceeding from principles to conclusions in the theory, and from the means to the end in the practice of moral vertues, which are not without prudence and reason, because they con∣sist in mediocrity, which cannot be understood but by the com∣parison of the two extreams; which is an action of the under∣standing. Since therefore folly is a Laesion of the rational facul∣ty, whether this Reason be abolish'd, deprav'd or diminish'd (which are the several degrees of folly) fools cannot be happy, because they cannot live according to right reason: in which the essence of this life's felicity consists. As they are exempt from vices, so they are incapable of vertues. And if it be true, that no man is happy but he that is contented, and that con∣tentment consists in the satisfaction we have in the enjoyment of some good, which gives us rest; fools cannot be happy, since satisfaction of mind proceeds from its reflexion upon the excel∣lence or goodnes of the thing which we possess. Now reflexion is a most perfect act of the Intellect, which returns upon its ob∣jects and it self. So that what Civilians say of slaves, that they cannot be happy in this world, because they are not their own, nor counted for any thing, but reputed in the number of the dead; the same may with much more reason be affirm'd of fools.

CONFERENCE XCII.

I. Which is most healthful, moisture or dryness. II. Which is to be preferr'd, the contemplative life, or the active.

I. Which is most health∣ful, moisture or dryness.

THe Philosopher Thales had reason in affirming water to be the principle of all things; whether he had learn'd out of the books of Moses, that in the beginning the Spirit of God mov'd upon the face of the waters, and so the water appear'd first of the Elements; or else had observ'd in nature that no sub∣lunary forms can subsist without moisture, which Chymistry teaches us to extract out of the most acid bodies, which neither can subsist without humidity tying and uniting their parts,

otherwise likely to fall into dust; as it also serves to all genera∣tions, those of Plants and Animals beginning always by humi∣dity, which is the cause why the Sea is more fruitful in Fish (which likewise are more sound) then the earth in its Animals, of less bulk then the Marine. For humidity is the food of their natural heat; it also causes Leaves, Flowers and Fruits, to grow forth in Plants upon the earth, and in the entrals thereof it forms Minerals; the noblest of which are the most ductile and fusible, which is a sign of their abundant humidity, as the dryest and most earthy are the worst. The dews of Heaven fertilize the earth, whence God threatens his people to give them a heaven of brass, and an earth of iron; and when he promises great blessings, he saith, he will give dew in abundance, which also was the blessing which Isaac gave his son Esau. The inundation of Ni∣lus fattens the possessions of Egypt. The Spring, the most healthful and agreeable of all Seasons, is moist; Autumn, on the contrary, is the producer of diseases, by reason of its dry∣nesse. Pearls are generated in the humidity of the Sea, where∣in also Venus was born. Moisture is also the cause of plumpness and beauty, which is never found in a lean face and a dry body; and it hath so great an influence in our nature, that we call a good one a good or pleasing humour. The Moon governs all things by moisture upon which she hath a particular influence; and the Planets are more benigne in moist Signs then in dry, amongst which that of Virgo spoils the earth of all its beauties; and of the Planets Mars and Saturn are the destroyers of nature by their drynesse. In sine, Humidity renders the Seasons, Winds, Places, Ages more agreeable, and Women more beau∣tiful then Men. As Children, who abound in humidity, are more agreeable then dry old men. And there's no person but had rather live in a climate temper'd with humidity, as between 40 and 50 degrees, then in the sands and desarts of Libia, more proper for the generation of Monsters then the habitation of men.

The Second said, Although dry weather, being the fairest and pleasantest, hath more patrons then moist, yet 'tis more un∣healthy. The temperate Zones are pluvious; and that Au∣tumn which is commonly rainey, is yet most unhealthy, this proceeds from the inequality of its temperature, and some other extraneous causes, as the abundance of fruits which fill our bodies with crudities. The Spring, whose temperature is hot and moist, is according to Hippocrates, most healthy, not subject to great diseases, the matter whereof is evacuated by expulsion of the noxious humours. Moreover, humidity re∣vives Plants and Animals, and Man, Nature's perfectest work, abounds most with it; to which cause Cardan refers his greater sagacity. And being life is nothing else but the Prime Humidi∣ty, thence thirst comes to be the greatest bodily inconveni∣ence; and diseases caus'd by a dry intemperature are generally

incurable. Rheum is not so dangerous as an Hectick Fever, and experience shews us that land too moist may be render'd fer∣tile, but there's no remedy for the droughts of Africa; humane Art being puzled to preserve a Garden during those of Sum∣mer. Lastly, Physick takes the opportunity of moist weather for purgations, as most convenient for health.

The Third said, That all the first qualities are active, but heat and moisture more then the other two, whence the air be∣ing imbu'd with humidity alters our bodies more sensibly then when 'tis charg'd with dry exhalations. For our radical moi∣sture is aerious, oyly, and benigne, and the extraneous moi∣sture is aqueous, maligne and pernicious; a capital enemy to that balsame of life, as extraneous heat is to our vital heat, which is suffocated by abundance of excrements collected by humidity which stops the pores, but dissipated by dryness which opens them. Which made the Prince of Physick say, Aph. 15. Sect. 3. that of the seasons of the year droughts are more healthy, and less fatal, then rainy and moist weather, in which happen long Fevers, Fluxes, Epilepsies, Apoplexies, and divers others putrid maladies. Though 'tis impossible to determine the question absolutely, because 'twould be requi∣site to consider siccity and humidity separate from other qualities and in their own nature, wherein they are not to be found, be∣ing never separated from cold or heat, which render their na∣tures, and (consequently) their effects various.

The Fourth said, That the pleasure we take in a thing is the surest evidence of the good or hurt it does us. Hence rain is al∣ways more grateful to us in droughts, then the contrary. Be∣sides, Death, and old age which leads to it, is nothing but a de∣siccation; and dry diseases are most perillous, because they are either conjoyn'd with heat which encreases them and makes them very acute, or with cold which generates Schirrusses, and other maladies accompani'd with obstruction, which are not cur'd but by humectation. Summer and Autumn are the sick∣liest and dryest seasons of the year, but we are more healthy in Winter and the Spring. And do's not the humidity of the night repair the loss caus'd by the siccity and actions of the day? as in the morning, the most humid part of the day, our minds are more serene then all the rest of the day, whence it was call'd the friend of the Muses. The Brain, the mansion of the soul and its divinest faculties, is not only most humid, but the seat of humidity; as choler, melancholy, fear, and all other passions common to us with beasts have their seat in the Gall, the Spleen, and the heart, which are dry parts. But although humidity seems more a friend to nature, then siccity, yet the question must be voided by the distinction of temperaments, of which the melancholy and the bilious especially receive very great in∣commodity from droughts, and benefit from moist seasons, which, on the contrary, much torment the phlegmatick.

II. Which is to be preferr'd the contem∣plative life, or the active.

Upon the second Point 'twas said, That man being born to live in society and employment, the contemplative life seems in∣congruous to this end; and our first Parent was plac'd in the earth to Till it, and eat his bread in the sweat of his countenance, not to live idly, and look about him. Moreover, the end is more noble then the means which tend to it; but we, generally, con∣template only in order to act. In Divinity we consider God's Commandments, in order to perform them; In Mathematicks, Lines, Surfaces, Solids, Numbers and Motions, to make use thereof for Fortifications, Carpentry, and the Mechanicks; In Natural Philosophy, its Principles and Causes, to refer the same to Medicine; In Law, Right, to apply it to Fact; In Morali∣ty, the Virtues, in order to exercise them. Consider what dif∣ference there is between the contemplation of an empty brain and solid action, that is to say, between theory and practice; you will find the former only a chimera, and the other a reality, as excellent and profitable as the first is useless, except to feed the phancy with vain imaginations, and fill the mind with presum∣ption; there being none but thinks himself a greater master then others, before he hath set his hand to the work; and yet 'tis by their works that our Lord tells us we shall know every one, and not by their discourses, which are as much below them as effects and things are more then words.

The Second said, Contemplation is as much more excellent then action, as the soul is then the body; and to compare them together is to equal the servant with her mistress. For, not to speak of the raptures of an extasi'd soul, nor of eternal blisse, which consisting in contemplation, that of this world must do the like in reference to natural things: Nature alone teaches us that things which are for themselves are more excellent then those which are for others. But the contemplation and know∣ledge of truth, hath no other end but it self; action, the com∣mon uses of life. Whence contemplation less needs external things then action, which requires the help of Riches, Honours, Friends, and a thousand other circumstances, which hinder a contemplative person more then they help him, who therefore delights most in Desarts and Solitudes. Moreover, the end is to be prefer'd before the means, and the end of active life is to bring us rest, as the military life is in order to establish, and the civil to preserve peace; therefore the rest of the contemplative life being the end of the turbulent active life, it is much more noble then its means. As appears also by its duration, which is greater then that of transient and transitory action; but contem∣plation is durable and permanent, which is a sign of the Divi∣nity of the Intellect that produces it, infinitely more excellent then all the other inferior powers, the principles of actions. Contemplation being abstracted from matter and earthly things wearies not the body as actions do, which require corporeal or∣gans;

and therefore the pleasure of it is most pure and simple, and constant, in regard of its object, those sublime things which wisdom contemplates; whereas that of action is never intire, by reason of the inconstancy of its object, which are political things continually mutable. The contemplative man finds full satis∣faction in himself, without going abroad to beg approbation and rewards from men, without which virtues languish and are imperfect. Moreover, the pleasure of contemplation is pecu∣liar to men, and not competent to brutes, who have not only external actions as well as we, as Speaking, Singing, Dancing, Fighting, Spinning, Building, and other Works of Art, which we learn'd from them, for the most part; but they have also virtues, as Chastity, Simplicity, Prudence, Piety. On the contrary, God, as the Philosopher teaches, exercises neither virtues, nor any external actions, but contemplation is his sole employment, and, consequently, the most divine of all, though it were not calm, agreeable, permanent, sufficient, proper to man, and independent of others, which are the tokens of beati∣tude, and the chief good.

The Third said, since 'tis true, which Plato saith, that while we are in this world we do nothing but behold, by the favour of a glimmering light, the phantasms and shadows of things, which custom makes us to take for truths and bodies; they who amuse themselves in contemplation, in this life, cannot be said con∣tented, unless after the manner of Tantalus, who could not drink in the midst of the water; because they cannot satisfie that general inclination of nature (who suffers nothing idle in all her precincts) to reduce powers into act, and dead notions in∣to living actions. If they receive any pleasure in the knowledge of some truths, 'tis much less then that which is afforded by acti∣on, and the exercise of the moral virtues, of the active life, the more excellent in that they are profitable to many, since the most excellent good is the most communicable. Moreover, all men have given the pre-eminence to civil Prudence and active life, by proposing rewards and honours thereunto; but they have punish'd the ingratitude and pride of speculative persons, aban∣doning them to contempt, poverty, and all incommodities of life. And since the Vice which is opposite to active life is worse then ignorance, which is oppos'd to the contemplative, by the reason of contraries action must be better then contemplati∣on; and the rather, because virtuous action without contempla∣tion is always laudable, and many times meritorious for its sim∣plicity: on the contrary, contemplation without virtuous acts is more criminal and pernicious. In fine, if it be true, that he who withdraws himself from active life, to intend contemplati∣on, is either a god or a beast, as Aristotle saith; 'tis more like∣ly that he is the latter, since man can hardly become like to God.

The Fourth said, That to separate active life from contem∣plative

is to cut off the stream from the fountain, the fruit from the tree, and the effect from its cause: as likewise, contemplation without the vertues of the active life is impossible: rest and tranquillity, which are not found in vice, being necessary to contemplate and know. Wherefore, as the active life is most necessary during this life, so the contemplative is more noble and divine, if this present life be consider'd as the end, and not as the means and way to attain to the other life, in which acti∣ons not contemplations shall be put to account. Contemplati∣on is the Sun, Action the Moon of this little World, receiving its directions from contemplation, as the Moon of the great World borrows its light from the Sun: the former presides in the day of contemplative life; the second, which is neerer to us, as the Moon is, presides in the darkness of our passions. Both of them represented in Pallas the Goddess of Wisdom and War, being joyn'd together, make the double-fronted Janus, or Hermaphrodite of Plato, square of all sides, compos'd of Con∣templation which is the Male, and Action which is the Female.

CONFERENCE XCIII.

I. Of the spots in the Moon and the Sun. II. Whe∣ther 'tis best to use severity or gentleness towards our dependents.

I. Of the spots in the Moon and the Sun.

THere is nothing perfect in the world, spots being observ'd in the brightest bodies of Nature. And not to speak of those in the Sun, which seem to proceed from the same cause with those observ'd in our flame according as 'tis condens'd or rarifi'd; we may well give account of those in the Moon, by say∣ing, with the Pythagoreans, and some later excellent Mathema∣ticians, that the Moon is an earthly habitable Globe, as the emi∣nences and inequalities, observ'd therein by the Telescope, the great communications of the Moon with our earth, depriving one another of the Sun, by the opacity, rotundity and solidty of both; and the cold and moist qualities which it transmits hi∣ther, like those of this terr-aqueous Globe; since the same appa∣rences and illumination of the Earth would be seen from the Heaven of the Moon, if a man were carri'd thither. And because solid massie bodies, as wood and stone, reflect light most strongly, therefore the brightest parts of the Moon answer the terrestrial dense parts, and the dark the water, which being rarer, and liker the air is also more transparent, and, consequently, less apt to stop and reflect light. This we experience in the prospect of high Mountains very remote, or the points of Rocks in the open Sea, which reflect a light, and have a colour like that of the Moon, when the Sun is still above the Horizon with her: where∣as

the Sea and great Lakes being less capable of remitting this light, seem dark and like clouds. So that were this Globe of Ocean and Earth seen from far, it would appear illuminated and spotted like the Moon. For the opinion of Plurality of Worlds (which can be no way dangerous of it self, but only in the consequences the weakness of humane wit would draw from it; much less is it contrary to the faith, as some imagine) is ra∣ther an argument of Gods Omnipotence, and more abundant communication of his goodness in the production of more crea∣tures; whereas his immense goodness seems to be restrain'd in the creation of but one world, and of but one kind. Nor is it impossible but that, as we see about some Planets, namely, Ju∣piter and Saturn, some other Stars which move in Epicycles, and in respect of their stations, and those Planets, seem like Moons to them, and are of the same substance: so that which shines to us, here below, may be of the same substance with our earth, and plac'd as a bound to this elementary Globe.

The Second said, That the spots of the Sun and Moon cannot be explicated without some Optical presuppositions. And first, 'tis to be known that Vision is perform'd three ways; directly, by reflection, and by refraction. Direct Vision, which is the most ordinary, is when an object sends its species to the eye by a direct way, that is, when all the points of one and the same ob∣ject make themselves seen by so many right lines. Reflective Vision is when the species of an object falling upon the surface of an opake body, is remitted back to the sight, as 'tis in our Looking-glasses. Vision by refraction, is, when the species of an object having pass'd through a medium diaphanous to a certain degree, enters obliquely into another medium more or less dia∣phanous; for then 'tis broken and continues not its way direct∣ly: but with this diversity, that coming from a thicker medium into a thinner, as from water into air, the species in breaking re∣cedes from a perpendicular falling upon the common surface of the two mediums; as, on the contrary, entring into a less dia∣phanous medium out of one more diaphanous, it breaks, and Cones neerer a perpendicular then it would have done had it continu'd directly. Secondly, 'Tis to be observ'd, that bo∣dies which cause reflection or refraction are either smooth or unequal and rough. Smooth bodies make reflection and refraction with order; and the reflected or refracted image resembles its object, although it may be alter'd by the va∣rious figures of the reflecting or refracting bodies, as con∣vex Looking-glasses diminish it, hollow enlarge it; whereas, on the contrary, convex Perspective Glasses enlarge and concave lessen the object: but both the Looking-glasses, and the other represent the Image perfect. Unequal and scabrous bodies reflect or refract confusedly without di∣stinct representation of the Image; because these Bodies being terminated with infinite little imperceptible surfaces looking

every way, they also reflect every way, as is seen in stones, wood, and other bodies of different ruggedness, and so causing different reflections and refractions. in the third place, we must observe some prime properties of Looking-glasses; as, That if a species fall perpendicularly upon the surface, 'tis likewise perpendicu∣larly reflected, and consequently, upon its own object; as when the Eye beholds it self in the glass. But if the species fall ob∣liquely upon the glass, it will be reflected as obliquely the other way, making the angles of the incidence equal to those of refle∣ction; as when the Eye beholds something else then it self in the glass. And an Eye constituted in the place where it may re∣ceive the reflection shall see the image of the object by help of the glass. But if the mirror reflect no species to the place where the Eye is, then the surface of the mirror shall appear so much more dark as the mirror is exact, that is, smooth; and more opake, the greater the light is. As the Eye being in the place of reflection cannot bear the Sun-beams reflected from the mirror no more then the Sun it self; but being in another place, it shall see no∣thing but darkness, and take the glass for a hole, especially if it lie upon the ground. Moreover, a Convex Spherical glass hath this property, that it represents the image very small, and more small when the Eye and object are remote from the mirror which is small, or appears such. In which glasses also the Image never takes up the whole plane of the glass, but a very small part of it. Lastly, Every object which appears lucid, and not by its own light, transmits light to us either by reflection or refraction, af∣ter having receiv'd the same from some other luminous object. From these truths here suppos'd, but clearly demonstrated in the Catoptricks, I conclude necessarily, That the body of the Moon is not smooth, but rough or scabrous. For 'tis manifest by its various faces, that it borrows from the Sun the greater light of the two which appear in her, (the least whereof, namely, that which appears in the part which the Sun enlightens not, (in the increase and decrease) many think to be her own:) which borrow'd light increases or diminishes according as she removes farther from, or comes nearer to the Sun; whence the diversity of her faces. From which diversity of faces 'tis con∣cluded further, that the figure of the face towards us is spherical, convex, either rough or smooth. But smooth it cannot be, be∣cause then it would represent the very Image of the Sun to us very small, and in a small part of its face, the rest remaining dark, by the aforesaid observations of Looking-glasses; wherefore it must be rough or unequal, because the whole face appears lucid when 'tis beheld by the Sun at the full, and no image of the Sun appears distinctly in it. For 'tis certain, that the Moon sends her borrow'd light by reflection, and not by refraction; otherwise she should be diaphanous, and would appear most illuminated when near the Sun, and be full in her conjunction, and obscure in her full; because she's lower then the Sun, and so in con∣junction

his light would appear through her; and in her full, which is her opposition, the Sun's light would pass through her towards Heaven, not towards us. Wherefore, as to the spots of the Moon, it may be said, in general, that she is unequally seabrous, and the dark parts are nearest smoothness, and so make a more orderly reflection, but another way then to the Earth, the Angles of Incidence and Reflection being not dispos'd thereunto. But they are not perfectly smooth, because they transmit a little light to us; which they could not do being perfectly smooth, unless at a certain time when the Sun were so dispos'd, as that his Image might be seen in those parts, as in a Spherical Mirror. The other more scabrous parts making a disorderly and irregular reflection, are seen on all parts; as if you fasten pieces of glass, marble, or the like smooth bodies, to a wall enlighten'd by the Sun, the rough parts of the wall will appear very bright, and the smooth obscure. But because we know not truly what is the matter of the Heavenly Bodies, we can onely say, for proof of this unevenness in the Moon's body, that the rougher parts are more hard, and the less rough are liquid; for then the liquor surrounding the centre of the Moon, as the water doth about that of the earth, will have a surface more approach∣ing to smoothness as the water hath; and this, without in∣ferring it compos'd of earth and water, but of some celestial matter like to our elementary, and whose fluidity or hardness doth not prejudice its incorruptibility; those who hold the Heavens solid or liquid, holding them equally incorruptible. Unless we had rather say, that the body of the Moon being all of the same hardness, may nevertheless have parts unequally rough and smooth.

The Third said, That he apprehended two causes of these spots. First, the diverse conformation of these celestial bodies, which being no more perfectly round then the earth (which ne∣vertheless would appear spherical to us if it were luminous) make shadows inseparable from bodies of other figure then the plain. Secondly, from the weakness of our Sight, which as it phancies colours in the clouds which are not in them, (no more then the Air is blew, though it appear to us, and we paint it such;) so being dazled by a luminous body, and the visual ray being dis∣gregated, it makes sundry appearances therein, which can be onely dark and obscure in a thing which is lucid. For I would not attribute these spots, which represent the lineaments of a face, to such a phancy as that of Antiphon, who saw his own picture in the Air, since they are observ'd by all people after the same manner: but the weakness of our Sight may contribute some∣thing thereunto. For if we say that every celestial body is an earth, and that the bright part is the terrestrial mass, and the dark the water, or the contrary; it will be necessary that this earth also have its Heaven, that its stars, and so to infinity.

The Fourth said, That they who have imagin'd spots in the

Sun, had them in their Eyes, it being improbable that there is any defect of light in that Star which is the fountain of it; but they are produc'd by the vapours between the Sun and the Eye, and therefore appear not at full noon, and change with the va∣pours and clouds. As for those which appear in the Moon's face, there is great diversity of opinions; as of the Rabbines and Ma∣hometans, of the ancient Philosophers reported by Plutarch in his treatise thereof, and of the moderns. The first are ridicu∣lous, in believing that Lucifer, by his fall, and the beating of his wings, struck down part of the light of this great Luminary, or that the same was taken away to frame the Spirits of the Pro∣phets. Those Philosophers who attributed the cause to the vio∣lence of the Sun-beams reflected from the Moon to our Eyes, would conclude well if the like spots appear'd in the Sun as do in the Moon; because the rayes coming directly from the Sun to the Eyes have more brightness, and dazle more, then those reflected by the Moon. Nor can these spots be the Images of the Sea and its Streights; for the Ocean surrounding the Terrestrial Globe, that part of it which remains in the lower part of the Globe cannot send its species so far as the Moon, whilst she enlightens the upper part; the Moon being able to receive onely the species of that part which she enlightens, ac∣cording to the principles of Theodosius, who teaches us that from the Zenith of one Hemisphere right lines cannot be drawn to the other Hemisphere, by reason of the solidity of the Globe; the caliginous fire, the wind, the condensation of the Air, and the like opinions of the Stoicks, and other ancient Philosophers, though erroneous, yet seem to me more probable then those of some Moderns, who will have the Moon inhabited, not consi∣dering that 'tis too small to make an habitable earth, her body being the fortieth part of the Terrestrial Globe, and its surface the thirteenth of that of the Earth, or thereabouts; besides, that she comes too near the Sun, whose Eclipse her interposition causeth, They who make the Moon and the Earth to move about the Sun, may indeed, with Copernicus, explicate the most signal motions and phaenomena: But the stability of the Pole, and the Stars about it, requires a fix'd point in the Earth, with which the inequality of the dayes and seasons could not consist, if the Sun were stable and in one place. Moreover, the differ∣ence of dayes proceeds from the obliquity of the Ecliptick, which is the cause that the parallels of the Solstice are nearer one to another, and the dayes then less unequal then at the Equi∣noxes, which cannot hold good in this Scheme. But 'tis less reasonable to say, that the hollow places in the Moon seem dark; for by the rules of perspective, they should remit the Sun's rayes redoubled by their reflection, by reason of the cone which is form'd in hollow parts; nor can they be eminences, which ap∣pear obscure, because in this case the spots should not appear so great, or not come at all to us, being surpass'd by the dilatation

of the rayes redoubled by the conical figure of the cavities of the Moon. 'Tis therefore more probable that as a Star is the thicker part of its Orbe, so the Moon hath some dense then others which are the most luminous; as those which are more diaphanous, letting those beams of the Sun pass through them, which they are not able to reflect for want of sufficient density, seem more obscure, and make the spots.

The fifth said, The spots of the Sun cannot be from the same causes with those of the Moon, which experience shews us changes place and figure, those of the Sun remaining always alike, and in the same figure; whereby we may also understand the validity of what is alledg'd by some, That the Sun moving upon his own Centre carries his spots about with him: For granting this motion, yet if these spots interr'd in the Sun, they would always appear in the same manner, and at regular times, by reason of the Sun's equal and uniform revolution. Never∣theless, the most diligent observers find that some of them are generated, and disappear at the same time in the Solar face. Which would incline me to their opinion who hold those spots to be generated out of the body of the Sun, in the same manner that exhalations are out of the bosom of the earth; did not this derogate from the receiv'd incorruptibility of the Heavens. For it cannot be any defect of our sight, mistaking the vapours between the eye and the Sun for spots inherent in his body, since they are seen by all, almost in the same number and figure; which should alter with the medium if this were the cause of them; and 'tis impossible that vapours should follow the Sun in his course for so many days together as one of these spots ap∣pears; for it must move above 6000 leagues a day, though it were not much elevated above the earth. Nor do our Tele∣scopes deceive us, since without them we behold these spots in a Basin of water, or upon a white paper in a close Chamber, where∣into the Sun is admitted only by a small hole. Nor, Lastly, are they small Stars, call'd by some Borboneae and Mediceae, because we perceive both their nativity and their end.

II. Whether 'tis best to use ••••∣verity or gen∣tleness to∣wards our dependents.

Upon the second Point 'twas said, That he who said a man hath as many domestick enemies as servants, imply'd that we are to use them as such, converse with them as in an Enemy-Country, and according to the Counsel of good Captains build some Fort therein for our security. Which Fort is severity, and its Bastions the reasons obliging us to this rigour. The first of which is drawn from the contempt ensuing upon gentleness and familiarity, and from the respect arising from severity and gravity, especially in low and servile souls, which being ill edu∣cated would easily fall into vice; to which men are more inclin'd then to vertue, if they be not restrain'd by fear of punishment, which makes deeper impression upon their minds then the sweet∣ness and love of virtue wherewith they are not acquainted.

Besides that servants are apt to grow slack and luke-warm in their duties, unless they be spurr'd up by severity. And 'tis a great disorder when a servant becomes equal to his master, as it happens by mildness; nor was Paganism ever more ridiculous then in the Saturnalia, when the servants play'd the masters. It must likewise be confess'd that severity hath a certain majesty which exacts such honour and service as gentleness cannot ob∣tain. By this virtue Germanicus became so considerable, and was so well obey'd, as, on the contrary, Nerva's mildness weakned and enervated the Roman Commonwealth. Was ever King more severe, and better obey'd then Tamberlane, or any family more powerfully establish'd then that of the Ottamans, which owes all its grandeur to severity and rigour, the sole upholder of Mili∣tary Discipline, a good Captain never pardoning any in war. For the misery of inferiors, whether true or imaginary, joyn'd with the natural desire of liberty, easily carries them to rebel∣lion, if fear and rigour tye not their hands. Thus the war un∣dertaken by the Servants against their Masters at Rome was the effect of mildness; nor was there any other means to repress it but by blood and slaughter; as another Nation once routed an Army of their Slaves with Whips and Stirrup-leathers; the sight of which reviving the memory of their former scars was more effectual then ordinary weapons. Therefore when the Law gave power of life and death over slaves, it intended not to authorize homicide, being sufficiently careful of men's lives; but judg'd it expedient to retain these persons in their duty by the apprehension of death. The reason which once oblig'd the Senate to put 600 innocent slaves to death, for an example to others.

The Second said, whatever security there may be in severity, it hath effects too violent to be durable. Man's mind is too de∣licate a piece; and whatever difference fortune hath put be∣tween men, their spirit, which is the same in all, is too noble to be curb'd with a cudgel and biting of brutish severity; which on the other side causes hatred, as mildness doth love, and is therefore to be prefer'd; there being none but had rather be lov'd then hated, and no way to be belov'd but by loving. For the same Proverb which reckons servants amongst necessary evils, reckons a wife so too; and the tyrannical Aphorism, So many servants so many enemies, is not true but in those who have cause given them to be so. And indeed, a Master's condition would be the worst of all, if he must live always at home upon his guard, as in a den of Lyons or Tygres. For, what is al∣ledg'd, that servants are ill bred and ill-natur'd, and seldom ac∣knowledge the obligations they have to their Masters, is indeed too true in the most eminent conditions: but that which we call ingratitude in them, comes especially from the rigour of our deportments, which offuscate the benefits and commodities they receive from us. Their low fortune is unpleasant enough, with∣out

making them desperate to our prejudice. And indeed, the Laws which have allow'd most severity to Masters over their slaves, have sometimes been insufficient to secure them from the fatal strokes of their discontent; as many Histories of Roman Masters murder'd by their slaves (notwithstanding that rigour of Silanus's Law) and the dangerous revolts of Spartacus, and others in the Provinces, sufficiently testifie. Whence it appears, that a man must be in as much fear of his servants as he would be fear'd by them; and that suspicion and diffidence is as well the mother of treacheries as of safety, since it seems to leave those whom we distrust to do all the mischief they can. For to pre∣tend severity, for avoidance of contempt and too great familiari∣ty, in my judgement speaks great weakness of mind; and as if dominion and majesty could not be more agreeably maintain'd by clemency: and gravity affected by rigour is as ridiculous as odious; yea 'tis to fall into an extremity too vicious, to make one's self hated for fear of being sleighted, and to appear cruel to avoid being familiar.

The Third said, That although gentleness be more accepta∣ble then severity, yet 'tis also more dangerous: witness that of Lewis the Debonnaire, and Eli the chief Priest, towards their children, for whom the Wiseman recommends the rod, as Ari∣stotle doth discipline for servants and slaves: and the indulgence of good husbands to their wives is the most apparent cause of the luxury reigning in that Sex, to say no worse. A family is a kind of Republick, and the principles of Occonomy and Poli∣cy are much alike. Now we see States are preserv'd by the ex∣act severity of Laws, signifi'd by the Rods, Axes, Maces and naked Swords, born by Magistrates, and the Scepters of Kings. But no Magistrates have Ensigns of gentleness, as being more dangerous, because directly oppos'd to justice, all whose rights and priviledges are preserv'd by severity. And hence clemency is not permitted to be us'd by inferior Judges, but that it may be more rare, 'tis reserv'd to Princes themselves who are above Laws and Customs.

The Fourth said, It belongs to Prudence to determine when, how, where and why, ways of gentleness or severity are to be us'd; some minds being exasperated by severity, like those tempers on which violent medicines work least; and others turning sweetness into bitterness, whilst they think it to pro∣ceed from timerousness or impotence, and so take license to do any thing, whom benigne medicines act not. But, to speak ab∣solutely, the way of gentleness must always precede and be found unprofitable before coming to rigour, according to the precept of the Physitians, who use fire and cauteries only when the malignity of the malady will not yield to ordinary reme∣dies, which the ancient Arabians never us'd till having first try'd a diet and regiment of living. Nor do's wise Nature ever use violence till she is forc'd to it by some potent cause, as the

fear of Vacuity, or the penetration of Dimensions. In all the rest of her actions she proceeds with sweetness, wherewith she hath so endow'd man, that the same humour which gives and preserves his being, namely, Blood, is the cause of Clemency and Gentleness, call'd for this reason Humanity. Wherefore 'tis more sutable to our nature then to lean towards its contrary; and the way from gentleness to rigour is more rational and natural then from rigour to gentleness. For when a rough master speaks flatteringly to his servants, they are no more mov'd therewith then a Horse accustom'd to the spur is with the voice alone. Yea, a Horse that will not stir for words will go for the spur; and Masters who incessantly rate and beat their servants, are like those ill Horse-men who have alwayes their spurs in the Horses sides, where they make by this means a callous scar, insensible to the most quick stimulations.

CONFERENCE XCIV.

I. Of the Eclipses of the Sun and Moon. II. Whether all Sciences may be profitably reduc'd to one.

I. Of the Eclip∣ses of the Sun and Moon.

▪TIs an ancient saying, that the Luminaries have never more spectators then when some Languishment befalls them; because ordinary effects, how excellent soever, affect us less then such as are not common, whose novelty raises admiration in our minds, otherwise much delighted in considering others defects and imperfections. Those of the Celestial Bodies are deficiencies of light, call'd Eclipses, which happen by the dia∣metrical interposition of some opake body. To speak onely of those of the Sun and Moon; the former is caus'd by the shadow of the Moon upon the Earth, and the latter, by that of the Earth upon the Moon, by reason of their vicinity. For the Sun's course being alwayes in the Ecliptick of the Zodiack, which they ordinarily, but improperly, call a line, being rather a plane superficies, and a great circle, cutting the sphere into two equal parts, in which the Sun ascends in his Apogaeum, and descends in his Perigaeum. The Moon likewise, according to her proper motion, is found every moneth in the same sign with the Sun; which is call'd her Conjunction, and makes the New Moon. Yet with this difference, that she is either in the South or the North, in respect of the Sun in the same sign, unless when passing from one to another she crosses the Ecliptick, wherein the Sun makes his course in the middle of such sign; in which intersecti∣on is made the Eclipse of the Sun, the Moon being then directly between the Sun and our sight. This point of intersection is call'd the Dragon's head, when she moves from the South to the

North, and the Dragon's taile when from the North to the South. Now forasmuch as the Lunar Body is less then that of the Earth, and much less then that of the Sun, scarce taking up the latitude of the pyramide form'd by the visual rayes; hence the Suns Eclipse is never either total or universal, the Moon not being capable to hide the body of the Sun from those who be∣hold him from the Earth in another situation. After her con∣junction with the Sun, she with-draws from him by little and little, increasing in roundness and light, till she become fully op∣posite to the Sun, at which time half of her Globe is perfectly enlightned; and then 'tis Full Moon. Now because in this perfect opposition the Earth casts its shadow upon that part of the Ecliptick which is opposite to the Sun, if in this opposition the Moon happen to cut the Ecliptick, she enters into the Earths shadow, and becomes darkned by privation of the Suns light. So that the Moon is never eclips'd but in her opposition when she is at the Full, nor the Sun but at New Moon when she is in conjun∣ction. Whence that eclipse of the Sun which appear'd at our Lords death was miraculous, the Moon being then naturally unable to eclipse the Sun by her interposition, because she was directly op∣posite to him, and at the Full.

The Second said, That in this common explication of Eclip∣ses, the Parallaxes of the Sun and Moon cause many difficulties in their calculations, being the cause that the same Eclipse is total to some, partial to others, none to others, and to some sooner and longer then to others; besides, that 'tis requisite to have as many new calculations as there are different places. But a general way whereby to explicate Eclipses so perfectly, that one single calculation may suffice for the whole Earth, and of∣tentimes for several Eclipses, cannot be had without knowledge of the distances, magnitudes and shadows of the Sun, the Earth, and the Moon, which are these; the Sun is distant from the Earth about 1200. semidiametres of the Earth, which amount to almost 2000000. of our leagues. The Moon is distant from the Earth near 56. semidiametres of the Earth, making about 90000. leagues, or the two and twentieth part of the Sun's di∣stance: Whence at New Moon the distance of the Moon from the Sun is 109000. leagues; and so the Sun is distant from the Earth twenty one times more then the Moon. As for the mag∣nitude of these bodies, the Diametre of the Sun is about six times as big as that of the Earth, and twenty one times as great as that of the Moon; and consequently exceeds the one five, and the other twenty times. Whence it follows, that the length of the shadows of the Earth and the Moon being proportionate to their distances from the Sun, as their Diametres are to that Excess, the shadow of the Earth shall have in length the fifth part of its distance from the Sun, namely, 400000. leagues, and the sha∣dow of the Moon the twentieth part of her distance from the Sun, namely, 95500. leagues. These shadows of the Earth

and the Moon are of a conical figure, the base whereof is one of the circles of the Earth or the Moon, and the cusp is the point remov'd from their bases, according to the abovesaid distances. Which figure proceeds from the Sun's being greater then the Moon or the Earth, and all three of a round or spherical figure; and the conical shadow is a perfect shadow admitting no direct ray from the Sun; but there is an imperfect shadow about the same, admitting rayes from some parts of the Sun, but not from all. And as the imperfect shadow diminishes conically, so the imperfect increases conically; so that the Moons imperfect sha∣dow reaches 90000. leagues, which is the distance of the Moon from the Earth, occupying round about the perfect shadow near 1000. leagues on each side; because 'tis in proportion to the Diametre of the Sun, as the distance of the Earth from the Moon is to the distance of the Moon from the Sun. Now since the shadow of the Moon, which is 95500. leagues, reaches fur∣ther then the Moons distance from the Earth, which is but 90000. leagues, it follows that at New Moon when she is di∣rectly between the Sun and the Earth, (which happens when the Moon is twenty degrees before or after, either the head or the taile of the Dragon) the point of her shadow reaches to the Earth, covering sometimes near 30. leagues round of Earth with perfect shadow, which is surrounded with another imper∣fect one of a thousand leagues. And as the Moon by her proper motion passes beneath the Sun from West to East, so her shadow traverses the Earth from the West part to the East; so that whereever the point of the perfect shadow passes, there is a to∣tal Eclipse of the Sun; and where the imperfect shadow passes, the Eclipse is onely partial, but greater according as you are nearer the perfect shadow. From these consequences may be drawn, That the Eclipse of the Sun is seen sooner in the West part of the Earth then in the East, by almost five hours; which is the time that the shadow of the Moon is crossing the plane of the Earth. That one and the same Eclipse of the Sun cannot be seen in all parts of the Earth, because, though as the shadow moves, it crosses from West to East; yet it is not large enough to cover the whole Earth from North to South. That in one and the same year there are at least two Eclipses of the Sun visible in some parts of the Earth, sometimes three, and four at most. For every half year in which the Sun passes by the Dragon's head, if the New Moon be made at the same head, there will be an Eclipse, which will be total in the torrid zone, and partial in the temperate zones, a thousand leagues or more on either side; and this will be the sole Eclipse for this half year. If the New Moon be made within ten degrees before the Dragon's head, there will be onely this Eclipse in this half year, which which will be total, sometimes in the torrid zone, sometimes in the southern temperate zone, and partial, a thousand leagues or more every way. The like will happen if the New Moon be

made within ten degrees after the Dragon's head, but a total Eclipse will be seen in the torrid zone, or else in northern tempe∣rate. But if in the same half year the New Moon be made be∣tween ten and twenty degrees before the head, there will be an Eclipse in the cold zone, and at the extremity of the temperate southern zone: But then the New Moon immediately follow∣ing will be made between ten and twenty degrees after the head, and there will be another Eclipse seen in the frigid zone, and at the extremity of the northern temperate zone; which two Eclipses, most commonly, are but partial. The same must be said of the other half year in which the Sun passes by the Dra∣gons tail, saving that the parts which precede the taile regard the northern part of the Earth; and those which follow, the southern; which happens quite contrary at the head. Which we must observe, is diametrically opposite to the taile, and that they remain not alwayes in the same place, but move round the Heaven regularly in about nineteen years, contrary to the order of the signes from Aries to Pisces, and from thence to Aquarius, backwards. As for the Eclipse of the Moon, we must consider the shadow of the Earth, which is cast into the Ecliptick in the part opposite to the Sun; and because the same is 400000. leagues long, it follows that it crosses the Heaven of the Moon, and beyond; so that although it be diminish'd at the Heaven of the Moon, yet in that place it hath near one degree a half dia∣metre, the Moon not having much more then one degree. And consequently, if the Moon be at the Full, either in the head or the taile of the Dragon, or else in thirty degrees before or after, the Moon will pass into the shadow of the Earth, and be either wholly eclips'd or in part, according as she shall enter wholly into the perfect shadow. For here the imperfect shadow is not considerable, the Moon not being eclips'd so long as she receives the rayes of any part of the Sun; whence it follows that the Moon naturally loses her light, but not the Sun, which the in∣position of the Moon onely keeps from our Eyes; that the Eclipse of the Moon is seen at the same time by all those who can see it. And that there can be but two in one year, namely, one in every six moneths; sometimes but one in a year, and sometimes none at all; namely, when the Full Moon happens between thirteen and seventeen degrees, before or after the head or the taile of the Dragon.

II. Whether all Sciences may be profitably reduc'd to one.

Upon the Second Point it was said, That the desire of know∣ing is very charming; but mans life is too short to satisfie the same, unless the great number of Sciences be reduc'd into one, their multitude requiring a volumn to contain their names alone, and this with their length being the principal causes of the little fruit gather'd from them, and the distaste which they beget. The way of abridgment would be to retrench out of each all matters unprofitable, or not pertaining to the Science,

as are most Metaphysical Questions which are treated of in Lo∣gick; Natural, in Medicine; Moral, Natural, and Juridical, in Divinity, to avoid repetitions: And thus the fifth and sixth Books of Euclid might be reduc'd into one, since in the latter he demonstrates by number what before he had demonstrated by lines; yea, the 117 Propositions of his tenth Book might be demonstrated in another order, and compris'd in less then thirty; as the five following Books, the three of Candalus, the Sphericks of Theodosius, the Conicks of Apollonius, the Princi∣ples of Archimedes, and others, which make above 500 Propo∣sitions, might be reduc'd profitably to less then a hundred. But above all, 'twould be requisite to be careful of laying down good Principles, and teaching these Sciences with order; and for this purpose to retrench all unprofitable Books, whose nume∣rousness causes confusion, and is now more hurtful then their scarcity was heretofore; according to Justinian's example, who reduc'd all the Law-books of his time into two Volumns, the Di∣gests and the Code; and that of the Jews, who compris'd all things that can be known in one single Science call'd Cabbala, as the Druids did their Disciplines under certain Maximes and Aphorisms; and Raimond Lullie's Art teaches to know and speak of all things; which might be done, if instead of spending the fittest time of our Age (as we do unprofitably) in learning to speak Latine and Greek, we employ'd it, by the example of the Ancients, upon the Mathematicks, History, and all Sciences de∣pending more upon memory and phancy then solidity of Judg∣ment, which might afterwards be form'd in a short time by Lo∣gick, in order to its being exercis'd in the knowledg of things natural, supernatural, and moral; which might easily be ob∣tain'd in less then five years, if all superfluities were retrench'd.

The Second said, Because the possibility of a thing must first be understood, before the means of attaining it sought, 'tis re∣quisite first to agree whether all Sciences are reducible into one, before the ways to do it be inquir'd. And although at first sight it seem possible, because they presuppose one another, and there is such a connection in their principles that some depend upon the demonstration of others; yet I conceive this re-union of all into one would seem rather a monster, or a thing like the confusion and disorder of the ancient Chaos, then a true and legitimate Discipline. For 'tis easier to destroy the present method then to establish a better. Moreover, how is this union possible, since the foundations and principles of Sciences are controverted by the Masters who profess them? For setting aside those indemon∣strable principles which are very few, and need only be heard that they may be granted, and may be learn'd in less then an hour; if we make an induction through all the Sciences, we shall find nothing certain in them. Has Morality, whose chief object is Beatitude, found one sole point wherein to establish it? Are not part of Aristotle's opinions overthrown by Galen? who

on the other side is counter-check'd by Paracelsus and all the Chymists, who pretend to cure diseases by their likes, as the former doth by their contraries? Law, being founded upon the instability of humane will, hath as little certainty: And Divi∣nity it self, which is the Science of Verities, is divided by the Sects of the Nominals, of Scotus, and Thomas; not to speak of the Heresies which incessantly assault it. And if we compare it to other Sciences, it overthrows most of their Principles, by establishing the Mysteries of Faith. This is it which made the wisest of men, and who perfectly understood all Sciences, to say, That they were but vanity: And were this union possible, he hath so highly recommended sobriety of knowing, that 'twould be a kind of intemperance to desire to know every thing, no less presumptuous by exceeding the bounds set by God to each of our capacities, then ridiculous, by attempting to make a neces∣sary and infallible thing of many contingent and uncertain, and not yet agreed upon.

The Third said, That Unity, which is one of the Transcen∣dents, co-eternal and co-essential to Good, ought to be the at∣tribute of all good things, and consequently of Discipline, which likewise being the good of the Understanding, which is one, cannot be comprehended by it, but by their becoming con∣formable the one to the other. If any reply, That 'tis enough that things enter into it successively, and so need not be one, (which would be inconsistent with their nature); I answer, That the series and order which is found in those things belongs to one single Science; otherwise they would have no conection together, and by this means could not be made use of to pur∣pose. And since all our Notions depend one of another, our Discourse being but a continual Syllogism, whose Conclusions depend upon the Premises, it follows, That the Syllogism being the subject but of one Science, they all pertain but to one Sci∣ence; whence Philosophy is defin'd the knowledge of things divine and humane; that is to say, of every thing. Indeed, since all moral Virtues are so connected together, that 'tis im∣possible to possess one without possessing all; the Sciences (which are the intellectual virtues) must be streightly united like∣wise; and the more, for that they have but one most simple sub∣ject, to wit, the Uderstanding. And since the means of Being are the same with those of Knowing, every thing that is in the world having the same Principles of existence must also have the same principles of knowledg, and so make one sole Science; because Sciences differ only by reason of their principle; all which too depend upon one Metaphysical principle, namely, That one and the same thing cannot be and not be; which proves all others; and therefore it follows, That there must be one sole Science general, comprehending all the rest. For to say, That every several manner of handling a thing makes a distinct Science, is to imitate him who would make an Art of every

Simple. Lastly, Nature would not have given us a desire of knowing every thing, if this desire could not be accomplished: But it is impossible to be so, whilst the Sciences remain so dif∣fuse as they are at present.

CONFERENCE XCV.

I. Of the diversity of Wits. II. Of New-years Gifts.

I. Of the diver∣sity of Wits.

DIversity is found in all things, but no where more remark∣ably then in man; for, not to speak now of Bodies, that of Minds is so great that none have been ever found to have the same inclinations or motions, or that have been so much as like to themselves; the Mind being an indefatigable Agent, varying postures every moment, according to the several occurrences of new objects, to which it becomes like. But though the di∣vision of Wits be so unequal and disadvantageous to some, that there's observ'd as great difference between one man and ano∣ther as between some men and a brute, yet all are well pleas'd with their lot, and every one thinks he hath enough to spare, and to govern and instruct others; so conceited are we of what belongs to our selves. Now the cause of this diversity of Spi∣rits and Inclinations seems to be the various constitution of bo∣dies, whose temper the motions and inclinations of the Soul follow; and this temper being incessantly mutable by causes in∣ternal and external, not only in the four seasons of the year, but also in the four parts of the day, hence ariseth the diversity of the actions and inclinations of the Mind, which is so great, that the same thing pleases and displeases us in a little space of time.

The Second said, That the Faculty which they call Ingenium or Genius, cannot proceed meerly from the temperament of the four qualities: For we see those that come nearest the tempera∣ment of man are the most stupid; and Ages, Seasons, and Ali∣ments changing those qualities continually, should also inces∣santly change mans wits. But 'tis a quality or ray of the Rea∣sonable Soul, which finding the four qualities variously mix'd in every one, makes use thereof in different operations; and so this difference is only accidental, not essential. Moreover, we see, that whatever difference be conceiv'd in Minds, yet their fundamental inclinations are alike, the hatred and aversion of evil things, and the desire and prosecution of good; if the means imploy'd to these purposes be different, this proceeds from a particular imagination caus'd by the constitution of the humours, which makes this difference appear, as through a co∣lour'd

glass. So the choler of the Souldier puts him upon seek∣ing honour and profit in Arms; the Advocate is mov'd to seek them in the Sciences, either by his more moderate temper, or by the example and pleasure of his Ancestors. Yet this Propor∣tion cannot change the essence of Wits, but only the appea∣rance; as a Painter out of the mixture of four or five colours makes infinite others, which differ only in shew.

The Third said, There are many partial causes of this vari∣ety, and they may be various to infinity, according to the va∣rious haps they meet with, like the letters of the Alphabet di∣versly combin'd; yet they may be referr'd to three principal, Nature, Art, and Fortune. The Nature of Man is the Soul and the Body. Souls cannot differ specifically, as some hold; for then a species should be part of an individual, since the Soul makes a part of man; which is absurd, because the species must be predicated of many individuals. Yet I think there is some individual difference between our Souls, not wholly depending upon the conformation of the organs, or the temper of humours, because excellent Souls have been found to lodg in ill-made Bo∣dies, as those of Socrates and Aesop; and the contrary. Art may also contribute much to this diversity, especially in Youth, when wits are more flexible; some very dull ones having been incredibly improved by study. So also may Fortune and Occa∣sion; amongst others, the place of residence; as the fertility of Palestine in Pasturage made the Jews Shepherds; and the plains of Aegypt, fitted for tillage by the inundation of Nilus, made the Aegyptians Plow-men. Those that inhabit the coasts of the Sea are Merchants, in regard of the conveniency of transpor∣tation. And necessity, which forces our wits upon sundry things, makes the Arabians, who live in an unfertile soil, for the most part Thieves; as sterility has constrain'd others to make war upon their neighbours. The diversity of Climates, Winds, Waters, Diets, Exercises, and generally all external and inter∣nal things, making some impression upon the temper, makes likewise some diversity in Wits.

The Fourth said, That diversity of actions cannot proceed but from diversity of forms; and therefore those of men must be un∣equal. 'Tis likely the Souls of Aristotle, Socrates, and the like great Philosophers, were of another stamp then those of people so stupid that they cannot reckon above five. And who dares say that the Soul of Judas was as perfect as that of our Lord? Moreover the Wise man saith, Wisd. c. 8. that he receiv'd a good Soul. Plato distinguishes Wits into as many Classes as there are Metals. And experience shews us three sorts in the world; some few are transcendent and heroical, being rais'd above the rest: others are weak and of the lowest rank, such as we com∣monly say have not common sense; others are of an indifferent reach, of which too there are sundry degrees, which to attri∣bute wholly to the various mixture of elementary material qua∣lities,

is to make a spiritual effect, as the action of the Under∣standing is, depend upon a corporeal cause, between which there is no proportion. And 'twere less absurd to ascribe these effects to the divers aspects of the stars, whose influences and celestial qualities are never altogether alike.

The Fifth said, That wit is a dexterity or power of the soul, seated in the Cognoscitive rational faculty, not in the Appeti∣tive or Sensitive. 'Tis a certain capacity of the Understanding to know things, which is done either by invention or instruction of others. Invention requires acuteness of wit and judgement. Learning, docility, and likewise judgement. Memory serves as well to invent as to learn. And thus three things are requi∣site to Wit, namely, Memory, Acuteness, and Judgement. The first furnishes matter and sundry things, without supply whereof 'tis impossible to have a good wit. The Judgement disposes things in order, resolving the whole into its parts when 'tis requisite to learn or teach, and reducing the parts to their whole when 'tis requir'd to invent, which is the more difficult; our mind finding it of more facility to divide things then to compound them. Whence Inventors of Arts, and things neces∣sary to life, have been plac'd in the number of the gods. But, because each of these three faculties require a contrary tempera∣ture; Memory a hot and moist, as in children; Acuteness of wit, a temper hot and dry, as that of Poets and Magicians; Judgement, a cold and dry, proper to old men; hence it is that a perfect Wit which excells in all three is rarely found.

II. Of New∣years Gifts.

Upon the second Point 'twas said, That the Poet who said, that he who begins a work well hath already done half of it, spake no less judiciously of humane actions then those who ad∣vise to have regard to the end. For, as this crowns the work, so 'tis not to be doubted but a good beginning makes half of this wreath, and that both joyn'd together perfect the circle, the Hieroglyphick of the revolution of years. Hence we see anti∣quity contriv'd to begin them with some festival solemnities, with intent thereby to consecrate their first actions to the Deity. The Hebrews had their most remarkable feasts in the moneth Nisan, the first of the year, answering to our March; and amongst others that solemn Passover, when they invited their Neighbours to the feast of the Lamb. The Greeks began their Olympiads with Games and Sacrifices to Jupiter; and the super∣stitious Egyptians not only took omens from what they first met every day, but made it their god for that day. And being next the divine assistance men value nothing more then the favour and good will of their friends, 'tis no wonder if after sacrifices and publick ceremonies they have been so careful to continue this mutual friendship by feasts and presents at the beginning of the year, which some extended to the beginnings of moneths, which are Lunar years, as the Turks do at the beginning of

each Moon, of which they then adore the Croissant. And if they who make great Voyages, after having doubled the Cape of Good Hope, or some other notable passage, have reason to make feasts and merriment, for joy of the happy advancement of their Navigation; those who are embarqu'd together in the course of this life, and whom the series of years (which may be call'd so many Capes and Points mark'd in the Chart of our Na∣vigation) transports into new Countries, ought to rejoyce with their friends for the dangers which they have escap'd, and felici∣tate them for the future by presents, and wishes, in the continua∣tion of this journey. Or else considering the difference of years as great as that of Countries, we renew our correspondencies by presents, as hospitalities were anciently by those which they call'd Xenia, which is still the name of our New-years Gifts; since in respect of the great alterations hapning in those years, we may be said to be new Guests, or Hospites of a New-year.

The Second said, That this laudable custome was founded upon reason and example, our Druides being wont to gather with great ceremonies the Misletoe of the Oak, which they consecrated to their great Tutates, and then distributed to the people, as of great virtue. Whence our New-years Presents are still call'd in many places * 1.1Guy-l'an-neuf. But the first day of the year was not the same with all Nations; some of our first Kings began it at S. Martin's day, as appears by the dates of some old Ordinances, and the yet continu'd openings of our Parliaments; whence possibly remains the fashion of making good cheer on this day. The Romans us'd this custom, some∣times in March, which was the first moneth of the year, when the year had but ten moneths, each of 36 days; and after∣wards on the Calends and first day of January, which was added with February to the other ten by Numa. And ever from the foundation of Rome, Tatius and Romulus appointed a bundle of Verven to be offer'd with other presents for a good augury of the beginning year. Tacitus mentions an Edict of Tiberius, for∣bidding to give or demand New-years Gifts, saving at the Ca∣lends of January, when as well the Senators and Knights, as all other Orders brought presents to the Emperor, and in his absence to the Capitol. Of which I observe another rise in the cense or numeration of the people, which was made in the beginning of the Lustres or every five years, and began under Ancus Mar∣tius; at which time money was cast amongst the people, as the Emperors did afterwards when they review'd their Armies at the beginning of each year, honouring the most eminent Soul∣diers with presents. Now reason too is joyn'd with this pra∣ctise; for as we take presages from the first occurrences of a day, week, or year, so none are more acceptable then gifts, which gratifie the more because they come without pains or expence.

The Third said, That the three sorts of goods being found in the reception of presents sent us by friends; (for they testifie the honour which they do us; the least present brings some pro∣fit to the receiver; and no benefit is receiv'd without some pleasure) 'tis no wonder if men who have from all time assign'd some day to every thing which they esteem'd good, have also thought fit to solemnize the Feast of Presents or Benefits, and to testifie their esteem thereof have made the Year begin by it, for good augury. Indeed, nothing is so powerful as Presents, be∣cause they make and reconcile amity, the greatest Gift which God hath given to men. They pierce the best-guarded Gates, as Philip of Macedon said; and Jupiter found nothing so fitting as a Golden-showre whereby to convey himself into Danae's lap. Homer with his Muses is thrust out by the shoulders if he brings nothing with him; whereas a course Varlet laden with booty is admitted even into the Closet. Whereof men are so per∣swaded, that there was never a Religion but had its offerings. And God forbids any to come before him with empty hands. Especially, gifts are agreeable, when the proportion of the re∣ceiver with the giver is observ'd. So the poverty of the Greek Epigrammatist made Augustus well pleas'd with the peny which he presented to him. But the price of a thing, or (in defect thereof) its novelty, or the excellence of the work-man-ship, the place and time is most considerable, this latter making such things as would have no acceptance at another season, pass for courtesies in the beginning of the year.

CONFERENCE XCVI.

I. Of Place. II. Of Hieroglyphicks.

I. Of Place.

ALL created things having a finite and circumscrib'd es∣sence, have also a proper place which serves for a bound to their nature, which is the principle of their motions and acti∣ons, which cannot be but in some place; the six differences whereof, namely, above, below, before, behind, the right side and the left, sufficiently prove its existence, since differ∣ences presuppose a genus. But its nature and essence is no less hard to be known, then its existence is plain. To omit the sun∣dry considerations of its several Sciences, here we understand, by place, that which contains things plac'd; and 'tis either common to more, or proper to one alone; this, either exter∣nal or internal: and generally, 'tis either Physical or Mathemati∣cal, or rather the same sometimes, provided, and sometimes de∣vested of accidents in its pure dimensions. This place cannot be the space of every body, because space is nothing else but a

vacuum, which is wholly opposite to place, which being an af∣fection 'of body must be something of reality. 'Tis therefore well defin'd the first internal and unmoveable surface of the am∣bient body. First, that is, immediate and proximate, because it must be equal to the body which it contains; internal, for if it were the external surface, it would be greater; as vessels are larger then what they contain: Lastly, it must be immoveable; which is not to be understood of the real place or real surface environing the body (because this surface changes when the body changes place, or whilst the body remains unmov'd the ambient air is chang'd every moment) but of that place or ima∣ginary surface which encompasses the body on all sides, remain∣ing always immoveable. Which is more satisfactory then to say, as some do, that the place of bodies is immoveable; al∣though they and their surfaces change place; because from thence to the centre and principal parts of the world there is al∣ways the same distance and respect.

The Second said, That Aristotle shew'd more subtilety then truth, when in stead of defining place internally corresponding to the extension of the parts, he defin'd it by an outward cir∣cumference; by which account, Souls, Angels, and other spiri∣tual substances should not be contain'd in a place, as 'tis certain they are (though definitively, not circumscriptively) in regard they move from one place to another. Yea the whole world should not have a place, since it cannot be contain'd by any thing, but contains all. 'Tis also incongruous to say, with some, that the place of the world is its centre, which is too small to design the place of so great a body; and if a point were the place of the world, the place of a Pismire should be greater then that of the world. What others say, That place is only the extension of things, cannot consist with the place of spiritu∣al forms, which yet have a distinct extension as other corporeal forms have; and we change place every moment, although we have always the same extension. I conceive therefore, the place being relative to the thing plac'd ought to be defin'd by it, according to the nature of relatives; and so place is nothing but the space occupi'd by the body plac'd, which is that long, broad and deep interval which receives the same. Moreover, space which would be void if one body did not succeed another, hath all the conditions requisite to the nature of place. For first, 'tis nothing of the thing plac'd, being a pure nothing. 2. 'Tis immoveable, being of it self incapable of motion. 3. 'Tis equal to the body plac'd, the whole space answering to the whole body, and every part to every part. 4. It receives sometimes one body, and sometimes another. And lastly, two equal spaces contain as much the one as the other.

The Third said, That place, defin'd the immoveable surface of an ambient body, cannot agree to the air, because its surface is not immoveable. But if this immobility be meant of the

whole body of the air, this inconvenience will follow, that the external surface of the air is not proportionate to the quantity of the particular body which it encompasseth. The defining of place to be the space occupi'd by the body plac'd, explicates the place of bodies, but not of incorporeal things, as the Soul and Angels, which having no extension should have no space, and, consequently, be in no place. Wherefore I conceive that place being an external affection of figure and quantity, must not be taken in the concave superficies of the body which touches, it but in the convex of that which is contain'd. And so this superficies will be immoveable, since the quantity of the body remains the same) and always equal to the body contain'd without penetration, because it hath no profundity. Likewise, every body will be likewise in its own place. And as for things incorruptible and incorporeal, the Angels and the Heavens, their place will be always the extremity of their substance.

The Fourth said, That if there were any place in nature which receives bodies, it must either be a body it self, or a vacuum. A body it cannot be, for then two absurdities will follow, name∣ly, penetration of dimensions (one body being within another) and a progress to infinity: for place being a body, it must be in another place, this in a third, this third in a fourth, and so to infinity. Nor can it be a vacuum which receives bodies. For either this vacuum remains after the admission of a body, and so the same place will be full and empty both together; or this vacuum recedes to make place for supervening bodies; which cannot be; for then it will be capable of local motion, which is an affection and property of body. Or else, lastly, this va∣cuum perishes and is annihilated; which is impossible too; for then it should be subject to generation and corruption, which are found only in bodies. Wherefore if ever the Scepticks had reason to suspend their judgement, 'tis in the nature of place, which they justly doubted whether it were something or nothing.

The Fifth said, That to doubt of place is to doubt of the clearest thing in the world, nothing being so certain as the ex∣istence of things, which cannot be but in some place. And we see a thing no sooner exists in nature but it hath its place and its station, which alone made the distinction of the parts of the world from their ancient Chaos, in which things were confus'd and without order, which is not found saving when every entity occupies the place due to its nature, which is preserv'd there∣in. Amongst simple bodies, Heaven hath the highest place, Fire and Air the next, Water and Earth the lowest: amongst mixts, Minerals and Metals are form'd in the Entrails of the Earth; Plants and Animals are preserv'd upon the earth and in the air; and the centre of every thing is nothing else but its place. Wherefore as God contains in himself all the perfections of his creatures, so he is in all places by his presence, his essence, and his power.

II. Of Hierogly∣phicks.

Upon the second Point it was said, That the Ancient Sages were always curious to hide the mysteries of their learning un∣der some obscure things; the Poets under the shell of Fables, (whom Plato and Aesop imitated;) the Pythagoreans under their Riddles; Solomon under Parables, the Chaldeans in the sacred Letters of their Cabala. But especially the Egyptians have observ'd this mystery. For having learn'd from the Jews and the Chaldeans the principal notions of the Sciences and the Dei∣ty, (the Principles whereof were taken from those famous Co∣lumns which preserv'd the Characters thereof after the Deluge) they transmitted the same to posterity by the figures and images of things engraven upon Pyramids and Obeliscks, whereof we still see some fragments in their Hieroglyphicks, which signifies sacred and mysterious figures or sculpture, not so much for the things employ'd to that purpose, which oftentimes were com∣mon and natural, as for the mystical and hidden sence which they attributed to the same. The use of these figures was the more profitable, in that having some similitude and correspon∣dence to the quality of the thing signifi'd, they not only deno∣ted the same, but also its nature and property. So, painting an Eye upon a Scepter, which signifi'd God, they intimated also his properties, by the Scepter his Omnipotence, and by the Eye his Providence. Another advantage of these Hierogly∣phicks, is, that they were equally understood by all Nations of several Languages, as at this day the Chineses and Japoneses make use of some Letters like Hieroglyphicks, which signifie rather things then words. Which would be a good way to re∣duce all Tongues into one, and so to facilitate all Sciences, were not this Hieroglyphical writing too diffuse. For there must be as many Characters as there are things in the World, which being almost infinite, and every day new, would ren∣der this Art endless; which hath made the use of it laid aside, as it would also be among the Chineses, were not honour which supports and feeds all other Arts annex'd to this know∣ledge of Characters, which advances those alone who are skill'd in their Letters to Magistracies and the chief charges of that great State.

The Second said, That the signs for representing things are either Natural or Artificial. Amongst the natural, employ'd by men to express their conceptions, are the pictures and ima∣ges of thigns; as to represent a Man or a Tree, they paint a man and a Tree; by which way Philomela describ'd the wrong which had been done her. The Aegyptians had the same design in their Hieroglyphicks; but finding that it would never have an end, they in this imitated the Hebrews, who make the same Root serve to produce a great number of words, and employ'd one figure to signifie first one thing, namely, that whose image it is, and afterwards many others wherewith it hath some affi∣nity.

So the figure of a Serpent signifies a Serpent, and the Pru∣dence which is attributed to that animal; and because they ob∣serv'd, that the last day of the year joynd to the first, and made a continual circle, they represented the year by a Serpent with his tail in his mouth. Upon the same ground Emblems were in∣vented. So Alciate, to represent Fortitude and Wisedom, gives the pourtraicts of Ajax and Ʋlisses; to signifie a good Merchant, who trusts only to what he holds, he paints a hand with an eye in the middle of it; the Fox signifies cunning; the Pismire Providence; the Bee, Policie; an earthen pot joyn'd to an iron pot, dangerous Alliance. In brief, so many fables and phancies are so many writings after this manner; from which, to speak truth, if you abstract the reverence which is due to Antiquity, I see nothing that comes neer the marvel of our Letters, which, in respect of other inventions, I cannot but compare to the Phi∣losophers Stone so much talk'd of, which whoso possesses may by its projection make as much gold as he needs to travel over the world; and those other inventions to the money, or, if you please, the provisions, which a Traveller carries with him. For these are incommodious, and serve but to one or few uses; whereas writing, by combination of sixteen several characters, (the rest being found superfluous) is sufficient to represent what ever hath been, is, may or may not be.

The Third said, That no doubt 'twas necessity which put the Aegyptians first upon the invention of Hieroglyphicks, then which our Letters are much less significative, because they express not the nature of natural things, as their figures do, but only words. Yet the use of Hieroglyphicks was very pernicious to the vulgar, who seeing the Attributes of God represented un∣der the shapes of Animals and Plants, took occasion to adore those corporeal things, and became the most superstitious of all Nations, going so far as to deifie garlick, onyons, rats and toads. Moreover, Mans life is too short for this Art; his wit too weak to invent figures sutable to all the parts of speech diversifi'd by numbers, cases, persons, tenses, and other Grammatical differ∣ences of words; and his memory too slippery, to retain all those figures, because they represented not one single thing, but many different; and for that one and the same thing was diversly figur'd; as God was express'd by an Eye, a Circle, and an Unite; Prudence by a double head, a Gorgon's head, a Crane, a Dragon, a Serpent, a fish call'd Scarus, or the Gilt-head, a Mulberry∣tree, a Hiacynth; Royalty, by the reins of a bridle, an Elephant and a Dog; Wisdom, by the breast, or the wand of Pallas; Concord, by a Crow, a Caduceus, or Mercurius's rod, a Peacock, a Bee, and a Lute; Fear by waves, a Dove, a Hart, a Hare, and a Wolf. All which figures signifi'd other things besides, yea, oftentimes contraries; as the Ass is the Hieroglyphick of wisdom with the Cabalists, and with us of stupidity; and the same wisdom was denoted among the Egyptians by a sieve, which

with us is the emblem of a loose-tongu'd person that can retain nothing. In fine, this Hieroglyphical invention is good for nothing but to make the ignorant admire what they must re∣verence without knowing it. For that which secures all pro∣fessions from contempt, is, the use of terms not understood by the vulgar.

CONFERENCE XCVII.

I. Of Weights, and the causes of Gravity. II. Of Coat-Armour.

I. Of Weights, and the cau∣ses of Gra∣vity.

THe World is Man's Palace, whereof God is the Architect, sustaining the same with the three fingers, of his Power, Goodness, and Wisdom. And the Scripture saith, He hath hung the Earth in the midst of the Air, and ordained all things in num∣ber, weight, and Measure, which are the three pillars of this stately Edifice. Number is the cause of Beauty; Measure, of Goodness; and Weight, of Order; which is not found but in the place to∣wards which bodies are carry'd by their Gravity. A quality de∣pending upon the four first, which by their rarefaction or con∣densation of things cause more or less ponderosity. For light signifies nothing but less heavy; it being certain, that as the Earth gravitates in the Water, and this in the Air, so would the Air in the sphere of Fire, Fire in the Heaven of the Moon, this in the mixt, and so forwards till you come to nothing, which hath no weight because it hath no corporeity.

The Second said, That gravity and the descent of natural bodies to the centre, cannot proceed from the predominance of terrestrial parts in mixts; since Gold, the heaviest of metals, and Mercury, which is next it, have more humidity then siccity, that is to say, more Water then Earth, in comparison of other metallick bodies; God being the most ductile, and Mercury the most fluid. So also Salt, which is heavier then wood or stone, is nothing but water cogeal'd, and dissolving again in a moist place. Wherefore Gravity seems rather to proceed from these three things, namely, place, comparison, and figure. Place is so considerable herein, that bodies gravitate not in their pro∣per places, but onely when they are remov'd from the same, and more or less proportionally to their distance. Comparison makes us judge a body light, because 'tis less heavy then an other. On the contrary, Figure makes heavy bodies light, causing Leaf-gold to swim, which in the same quantity reduc'd into a Globe would sink; and an expanded body weighs less in a balance, then when it is in a less volumn. Which is also observ'd of the thinner parts of the Air, which being of a more moveable figure are seen to play therein when the Sun shines clear.

The Third said, That the cause why a broader figure swims, or is upheld in the Air more easily then if it were in a Globe or other closer figure, is not, for that figure makes a thing lighter, but from the resistance of the medium, which hath more hold in one then in the other. Nor do's gravity proceed from the incli∣nation of a thing to its Centre; since the Centre is but a Point, wherein nothing can lodge. And if the Centre of the world were the Centre of heavy things, the stars which are the denser and solider parts of their orbs, and consequently, have more gravity, which necessarily follows the density of corporeal mat∣ter, especially the Moon which is demonstrated to be solid and massie, because it reflects the light of the Sun, should not remain suspended above the Air, which is lighter, but descend to this Centre of the Universe. For, to believe, with some, that the Moon is kept up like a stone in a sling by the rapid motion of the First Mover, is, to hold the Stars, the greatest and noblest part of the Universe, in a violent state, onely to give rest and a natural state to the least and meanest, which is the Earth. Wherefore the descent of bodies is not because of themselves they affect the Centre of the Earth, but for that they are upon a body lighter then themselves; order obliging every thing to take its own place, and till it be so, every body being necessitated to move it self, the heaviest downwards, and the less heavy upwards. Hence water gravitates not in its channel, although it be not in its Centre; because the upper part of the water is not heavier then the lower.

The Fourth said, That Gravity is a certain quality which carries all bodies towards a common point, continuing the union of the parts of the world, hindring Vacuity by the concentration of all bodies which press one another, the heavy having more matter in less quantity. For when we see Air mount above Water, and Fire above Air, they yield and give place to heavier bodies; as Oyle being in the bottom of Water ascends to the top, not by its lightness, but by the weight of the water which thrusts it up. So Lead, and all other metals, except Gold, swim in Mercury, to which they yield in gravity. For in equal quan∣tities Gold weighs 19, Mercury 13, Lead 11 and ½, Silver 10 and ⅓, Copper 9, Iron 8, and Tin 7 and ½. As for the cause of this gravity (which, some say, is in heavy bodies, others in their Centre, to which they attribute a magnetical virtue) I conceive, it consists in a reciprocal attraction of the same bodies, which draw and are drawn, and others are drawn to the inferiour body which attracts with all its parts; so that bodies are carry'd towards the Earth, and the Earth attracts them reciprocally, as the Load-stone attracts Iron, and is attracted by it. For 'tis evident that the Load-stone draws Iron; and to prove that 'tis drawn by Iron; lay a Load-stone in one scale, and in the other an equal weight to it. If you apply Iron to the bottom of the scale where the Load-stone is, this scale will raise up the other, the Iron at∣tracting

the Load-stone to it self. On the contrary, if you ap∣proach with the Iron over the Load-stone, the scale wherein it is will ascend towards the Iron which attracts it. For whereas 'tis objected, that if the Earth attracted things with all its parts, then it would follow that things let down in some hollow of the Earth, being attracted by the parts above, and those below, would not descend by reason of contrary attractions; I answer, that those bodies being out of their Centres, the greatest and strongest part of the Earth, which is towards the Centre, would attract them to it; the stronger prevailing over the weaker.

II. Of Coat-ar∣mour.

Upon the Second Point 'twas said, That all Nations have been curious in inquiring into their own Antiquities, and particulars, to preserve the tokens of their Genealogy; some by Histories, others by the Images of their Ancestors, as the Romans; and others by conjoyning of Hieroglyphicks and Ensignes, which are our Arms, which have had the same fate as other things of the world, and from very small and plain beginnings, by increasing of Alliances, have at length compos'd those variegated Scutch∣eons, so variously quarter'd and counter-quarter'd, that it hath been needful to make an Art, call'd by the Latines Heraldica, and to invent new words, with particular Officers, call'd Kings, and Heralds of Arms, to regulate and display them: And so many races and marriages are crowded together in the narrow extent of these Scutcheons, that great rolls and long Histories can scarce explicate them at length. The Scutcheon which we first blazon hath six Fields, namely, two metals, and four colours. The metals are, Or and Argent; the colours, Azure, (which is blew) Gules, (which is red) Verd, (which is green) and Sable, (which is black) some add a fifth, Purpure, being mixt of Azure and Gules, but 'tis little or not at all us'd in France. The English introduce two others, Tennê which they call Orange, and San∣guine, which also are unsuall in France. Besides these colours, thereare two Furres or sorts of Fells, which adorn the Scutch∣eon, Ermine, of Sable upon Argent; and Vair, or Verry, of Azure upon Argent; and when these Colours are alter'd, then the Scutcheon must be blazon'd Verry of such colours. Some Scuctheons have neither metals nor colours, and are call'd White∣shields, (like those of new Knights before they have done any memorable atchievement; of which Virgil speaks—Plamâque inglorius albâ) wherewith the Arms of our Maidens dying un∣marry'd are quarterd. Others have onely a small Scutcheon in the middle, and this Scutcheon is said to be in the fesse point. The principal parts of these Scutcheons are nine, answering to the parts of a man's face, which may be call'd every one's natu∣ral Scutcheon, whereinto are collected in several quarters all the titles of the nobility, and qualities, of the Soul. These parts are term'd, 1. The Dexter Chief, which answers to the right

Temple. 2. The Middle Chief, to the middle of the forehead. And 3. the Sinister Chief, to the left Temple. 4. The Honor point, to the root of the Nose. 5. The Fesse point, to the place of the Nose. 6. The Nombril point, to the Mouth. 7. The Dexter Base, to the right Muchato. 8. The Sinister Base, to the left. And 9. The precise middle Base, to the Chin. This Scutcheon is divided sometimes into sundry sorts of colours, or metals. If it be divided in pale, or perpendicularly, 'tis call'd party per pale; if in fesse, or athwart, 'tis said party per fesse; if sloping∣ly, 'tis said party per bende. Lastly, 'tis quarter'd either by crosses or gyrons, or by a Salture, which is a S. Andrews Cross; or else counter quarter'd, when one of its quarters is again quar∣ter'd. Next are to be considered the Ordinaries, which are, 1. The Chief, which is the highest part of the Scutcheon. 2. The Pale, which divides it from the Chief to the Base per∣pendicularly. 3. The Fesse, which cuts it athwart the Pale. 4. The Bende, which cuts from the right Angle to the Base, and is a Cotize if it be a third part less then the Bende, and a Battoon if it be two thirds less then a Cotize. 5. The Cheveron. 6. The Crosse. 7. The Saltyre. 8. The Gyrons, which form eight Triangles terminating in the Centre. There are other less prin∣cipal parts, as the Flanks which divide it by the sides; the Eman∣cheures with one or more points; the Pyle, which is a great Isosceles Triangle revers'd; the Perle, which is a kind of Y, taking up sometimes the whole Shield; the Gussets, Lozanges, Frets, and such other things as are better represented by figures then by words. These Armories are sometimes indented, in∣vecked, and embattail'd at their sides; and sometimes they are either charg'd or bruis'd with sundry figures; the former, when there is but one in the middle; charg'd, when they are semé all over. A Border is any thing which surrounds the Scut∣cheon. Some Shields are cover'd with divers things, diaper'd in form of broidery, leaves, and morisques, and fretted in fa∣shion of Lozanges and other things. The Changes are almost in∣finite, there being amongst others above thirty fashions of Cros∣ses; the Patee, which is that of Maltha; the Potencee, that of Jerusalem; the fleury, or flory; the bottony, pommettie, &c. The other more common pieces are Mascles, a sort of Lozange voided, whereof the middle is of the colour of the field; Rustres, which are Lozanges pierced round; Billets or Parallelograms, Fusils, Be∣zants, which are figures of ancient Money; Torteuxes, which are like Bezants, but differ from them, inasmuch as Torteuxes are always of a colour, and Bezants always of Or or Argent. As for others, every thing in Nature fills the Shield, and hath its different blazons, if the colour of one of their parts be different from the whole. Amongst Fishes, the Whale with his tail and teeth different is said to be fierte; the Dolphin is said to be hau∣riant. Amongst Trees the Oak, for example, whose parts have different colours, is blazon'd fuste, or branchless for the wood;

accollé, or embraced, for the Ivy, foliated and fructed. The middle of Flowers is call'd bottonie. Amongst Birds the Eagle and Gryphon are almost alone said to be arm'd, that is to say, beak'd and ungulated; others are said to be display'd. The Cock is said to be crested and jelloped. Lyons, amongst Ani∣mals, are alone rampant; Horses in that posture are said to be fray'd; Bulls, furious or mad. The Lyon shews but one eye and one ear; the Leopard two, and is always passant; if he be rampant he is called Leopard Lyonné; if a Lyon be passant he is called Lyon Leopardé. There are Lyons Naissant, which shew only the head and the two fore-paws; Issuant, which shew only the hinder part; Brochant, or spreading over all the field; Couped, when one body is of two colours; armed, are those whose claws are of another colour; and langued, when the tongue is so. Blazon begins always from the dexter side of the Chief; in those that are quarter'd saltyrewise, by the chief. If the first and last quarter be alike, they are blazon'd together, beginning always with the field. There are little Scutcheons upon the principle armories; those which are upon the fesse point are said to be over all; in the chief and the base, they are said to be entez or graffed; and if there be any upon ani∣mals, as Eagles or Lyons, they are said to be charged; and all Inescutcheons are always blazon'd last.

The second said, That as Nobility is the more esteem'd the more obscure its original is; so the first Inventors of Armes, which are the Badges of it, seem to have affected obscurity in their terms, to render the same more recommendable to the vulgar by being less understood. Armes are compos'd of Ima∣ges pourtray'd upon a ground call'd the Field, into which mens ambition hath introduc'd every thing in Nature; the Heaven, the Stars, the Air with its Birds, the Sea and its Fishes, the Earth, and whatever rarity it hath upon its surface and in its bowels; all the parts of man, and all the instruments of Arts, especially those of War, to which Armories owe their birth: Whence the Shield or Buckler hath been chosen to re∣ceive the same, and to serve as a badge of Nobility, for the distinction of Families. And as all Nations have preferr'd Va∣lour before the other Virtues, because 'tis most useful for the preservation of States; so they have destinated to it Palms, Crowns, Triumphs, and such other badges of Honour; amongst which all Nations have apprehended something of Divinity in their Shields. The Getes made their solemnest Oaths upon them; the ancient Germans ador'd every one his Shield and the Moon. The Poets relate, that the fate of Troy lay in a Buck∣ler which was kept in the Temple of their Goddess. A Buckler sent from Heaven kept the fortune of the Romans, like to which one of their Kings caus'd 400 to be made. Two Grecian Cap∣tains disputed the possession of Achilles's Buckler. That of Aenaeas had graven upon it all the destiny of Rome. In brief,

our ancient Kings were carri'd upon a great Target or Shield to the solemnity of their Coronation. The highest of our Coins bears the name and figure of an Escu or Shield; and true gentry amongst us is that of Esquiers, a title drawn from Escu or a Shield. Which hinders not but that learning, and management of affairs, being ways of ennobling men, though less frequent and more difficult, deserve also to bear Arms; as we read that Charles IV. granted to Bartolus, the famous Civilian, a Lyon gules, with two tails, in a field Or.

The Third said, That some Armories are commonly con∣ceiv'd to have been sent from heaven, as the Cross of Constantin∣ople, and the Flowers de lys of France. Others are taken from memorable qualities and actions of Ancestors, as those of Au∣stria, a Prince whereof returning out of battel cover'd all over with blood except his Belt, gave occasion to his descendants to bear a Fesse Argent on a Shield gules. Such is the Cross of Sa∣voy, which the Christian Princes granted to one of the Amadei, for having driven away the enemies from behind the Island of Rhodes; and the three Wings of Lorrain, because a Duke pierc'd three Birds flying with one arrow. Others have some corre∣spondence or allusion to the name of the bearer; as those of Castile, Leon, Galicia, and Granada, which have a Castle, a Ly∣on, a Chalice, and a Pomegranate. Others have distinctions for younger brothers, as a Battoon in the middle, or a Label with 2, 3, or more pendants in the Chief. Bastards commonly bear a Battoon in contrebende, that is, coming from the sinister point of the Chief to the dexter of the Base. Likewise other pieces distinguish younger brothers, as Mullets, Cressants, &c. plac'd in the middle of the Chief, or else at the first Quarter. But 'tis remarkable in blazoning of Arms, that Metal must always be put upon Colour, or Colour upon Metal; only Godfry of Bouillon made his Shield of argent charg'd with a Cross potencé Or, and four other Corslets of the same Metal.

The Fourth said, That being the injury of times consumes all things, the Arms or Devises of Families hath been found the best monuments to preserve their memory through many ages. This gave occasion to our Gaules (for they brought Coat-ar∣mour into greatest use, it being yet unknown to divers Nations) to engrave upon their Gates the same badges which distinguish'd them whilst they fought arm'd cap-a-pe, and could not other∣wise be known: and if it hapned that two Cavaliers bare the same Shield, the one would either have the life of the other, or make him alter his devise. Such an expedient as once agreed two Gentlemen, who were ready to fight because both of them bore a Bulls head, not always occurring; for they were contented with this decision, that one of them should Blazon his Coat with the head of a Bull, and the other with the head of an Ox or Cow, at his choice. Because every one was suffer'd, as they are at this day abusively, to chuse

Arms to himself; which is the cause that the handsomest Arms are the worst, as being the newest; because they are in∣vented according to phancy. Whereas anciently, to give Arms was one of the chief rights of Sovereignty, and joyn'd with the power of conferring Knighthood; and the advices of the noblest and ancientest Families were taken concerning the blazoning of them, as being interessed in this novelty. And as for Sovereigns, they chose the most ancient Arms they could. Those of France are found in the brain of a Cock, the Imperial Eagle in the root of Fern cut athwart. So the figure of Cheve∣rons, Torteuxes, Lozenges, Macles, Fusils, and most other things which enter into the Field of Scutcheons, occur at every turn, and in most Trees, Stones, Fishes, and other animals: their design being that their Families should appear not less ancient then nature. It remains to give some examples of particular Blazons.

The King of France bears two Scutcheons, The first is Azure, three Flowers de lys Or, two in chief and one in point; which is France. The second is Gules, two Chains Or, plac'd in orle, pale, fesse, bende and bar, which is Navarre. The Supporters are two Angels, one on the right side cloth'd with a Coat of Arms azure, semé with Flowers de lys Or,; the other on the left, clad with the Arms of Navarre. The Crest is a double Flowers de lys.

And to speak something of strangers, without observing any order, which would be too troublesome; Presbyter John bears azure, a Crucifix argent. The Turk bears Vert, a Crescent argent. England bears gules, three Leopards Or, armed and langued azure. Hungary bears barry, argent and gules, of eight pieces. Arragon, Or, four pales gules. Rhodes, Malta and Savoy, bear gules, a Cross argent. Flanders, Or, a Lyon sables, langued gules. Artois semé of France, a lable of three pendants, chastellated with Chasteaux Or. Leon, argent, a Lyon gules. Saxony, barry, Or and sable, of eight pieces, a Demy Crown or Crancelin Vert plac'd bend-wise. Bohemia, argent, a Lyon gules, his tail nowed and pass'd in saltyre. Lombardy, gules a Lyon Or, armed and langued sable. Florence, argent, a Flower de lys expansed gules. The great Cham of Tartary bears Or, an Owl sables. Parma, Or, six Flowers de lys azure. Sweden, azure, three Crowns Or, two in chief, and one in base. Denmark, Or, semé of Hearts gules, three Lyons Leopardez azure, langued, and armed Or. Poland, gules, an Eagle ar∣gent, beaked, membred and crowned Or. Holland, Or a Lyon gules. Bavaria, fuselé argent and azure, of twenty one pieces placed bendwise. Ireland, gules, a Harp Or.

CONFERENCE XCVIII.

I. Of the causes of Contagion. II. Of the ways of occult Writing.

I. Of the causes of Contagion.

DIseases, being accidents, must be divided, as other acci∣dents, by their first subjects, which are the solid parts, the humours, and the spirits; and by their several causes; some of which are manifest, others unknown; the malignity of the causes which produce them, and the manner whereby they act, being inexplicable. Which diversity of causes depends upon those of mixtions, which are of two sorts; one, of the qualities of the elements, which makes the difference of temperaments; the other of the elementary forms, which being contrary only upon the account of their qualities, when these put off their contrariety by alteration, the forms easily become united; and as amongst qualities, so amongst forms, one becomes predomi∣nant, the actions whereof are said to proceed from an occult property, because the form which produces them is unknown to us. So Arsenick and Hemlock, besides the power which the first hath to heat, and the second to refrigerate, have a particu∣lar virtue of assaulting the heart, and killing speedily, by a pro∣perty hitherto unknown. Such also are contagious and veno∣mous diseases, some whereof are caus'd by the inspir'd air, as the Pestilence, because air being absolutely necessary to the support of our natural heat, if when it is infected with malig∣nant and mortal vapours, it be attracted by the mouth, or the pores of the skin, it corrupts the mass of the spirits, as a crum of bread or other extraneous bodies makes milk or wine be∣come sowre. Others infect by bodily contact, as the Itch, the Pox, the Measles, and the Leprosie. A third sort proceed from a venomous matter, either communicated outwardly, as by poyson and the biting of venomous beasts, or generated in the body, as it may happen to the blood, black choler, and the other humours being extravasated.

The Second said, That diseases proceed either from the cor∣ruption and vitiosity of particular bodies, some of which are dispos'd to the Pleurisie, others to the Flux, others to the Co∣lick; call'd therefore sporadical, or dispers'd and promiscuous diseases; or else from some common vitiosity, as of the air, aliments, waters, winds, or other such common cause, where∣by many come to be seiz'd upon by the same disease at the same time: so, after Famines, bad nourishment gives a great dispo∣sition to the Pestilence. These maladies are fix'd to a certain Country, seldom extending beyond it; as the Leprosie to the Jews, the Kings Evil to the Spaniards, Burstenness to Narbon,

the Colick to Poitou, the Phthisick to the Portugals, the Pox to the Indians call'd by them Apua, and brought by the Spaniards into Europe; and such other diseases familiar to some particular Country, and call'd Endemial. Or else they are Epidemical, and not ty'd to a certain region, but produc'd by other external causes, as pestilential and contagious diseases; which (again) are either extraordinary, as the Sweating-sickness of England, the Coqueluche, which was a sort of destillation; or ordinary, which manifest themselves by purple spots, carbuncles, and buboes. But as the causes of the Small-pox and Measles are chiefly born within us, being produc'd of the maternal blood attracted in the womb, and cast forth by nature when become more strong, so though the seeds of contagious diseases may come from without, yet they are commonly within our selves.

The Third said, That Contagion is the communication of a disease from one body to another; the most violent so commu∣nicable is the Pestilence, which is defin'd a most acute, contagi∣ous, venomous and mortal Fever, accompani'd with purple spots, Buboes and Carbuncles. 'Tis properly a species of a Fever, being a venomous and contra-natural heat kindled in the heart, manifesting it self by a high, frequent, and unequal pulse, except when nature yields at first to the violence and malignity of the disease, and then the pulse is slow, small and languishing, but always unequal and irregular. Oftentimes it kills the first or second day; scarce passes to the seventh, if it be simple and legitimate; but when 'tis accompani'd with pu∣trefaction, it reaches sometimes to the fourteenth. Its malig∣nity appears in its not yielding to ordinary remedies which ope∣rate by their first qualities, but only to medicaments which act by occult properties; an argument that the cause of these dis∣eases is so too. Now four things are here to be consider'd, 1. That which is communicated. 2. The body which com∣municates the same. 3. That to which it is communicated. 4. The medium through which the same is done. A thing communicated against nature, is either the disease, or the cause of the disease, or the symptom. Here 'tis the cause of the disease, which is either corporeal or incorporeal. The in∣corporeal, in my opinion, are the malignant influences of the Stars, as of Mars and Saturn▪ and during Comets and Eclipses. For since their benigne influences preserve motion and life in all things of the world; by the reason of contraries, the maligni∣ty of the same aspects may be the cause of the diseases and irre∣gularities which we behold in it. The corporeal cause must be moveable, an humour, a vapour, or a spirit; which malignant evaporations kill oftentimes without any sign of putrefaction; or if there be any, it proceeds not from the corruption of the humours, but from the oppression and suffocation of the natural heat by those malignant vapours; and then the humours being destitute of the natural heat, and of that of the spirits which

preserv'd them, turn into poyson. There must be some propor∣tion between the body which communicates this vapour and that which receives it; but the same is unknown to us; and this pro∣portion is the cause that some Contagions seise only upon some animals, as Horses▪ Dogs, and Cattle; others upon Men alone, Children, Women, old Men, Women with Child and their bur∣thens; others seize only upon certain parts, as the Itch is com∣municated only to the skin, the Phthisick to the Lungs, the Ophthalmia to the eyes, and not to the other parts. The me∣dium of this communication is the air, which being rare and spongy is very susceptible of such qualities, which it easily transmits by its mobility. And these qualities happen to it, ei∣ther extrinsecally, as from faetid and venomous vapours and fumes exhal'd from carrion, marshes, impurities, and openings of the ground by Earth-quakes, which are frequently follow'd by the Pestilence; or else they arise in the Air it self, in which vapours may acquire a pestilential malignity, of which a hot and moist intemperature is very susceptible.

The Fourth said, That the Pestilence is found indifferently in all seasons, climates, sexes, ages, and persons; which argues that its proximate cause is not the corruption of the humors, and intemperature of the first qualities. Otherwise the Pestilence should be as other diseases, whereof some are hot, others cold, and be cur'd likewise by contrary qualities. Besides, the Spi∣rits being igneous cannot be corrupted, and the corruption ob∣serv'd sometimes in the humors is not essential to the Pestilence, but onely accidental, and however but an antecedent cause. For if putrefaction were the conjunct cause, then putrid Fevers and the Gangrene, which is a total putrefaction, should be conta∣gious. Wherefore it appears that the cause of this diseases are as occult as its effects are sensible; and that 'tis chiefly in this kind of malady that 'tis to be inquir'd, as Hippocrates speaks, whether there be not something divine. Which we are not to understand, as he doth, concerning what proceeds from the Air; seeing God threatens, in Ezechiel, to cause the third part of his people to dye of the Pestilence; as in one night he caus'd all the first born of Egypt to perish; and in three dayes, under David, seventy thousand Israelites.

The Fifth said, That to attribute the cause of the Pestilence to putrefaction, without assigning the degree of it, is to say no∣thing more then to recur to the properties of substance, and less then to seek it in the divine Divine Justice; these terms mani∣festing our ignorance, rather then the thing inquir'd. More∣over, the signes of this malady are all equivocal, and common to other diseases, yea, oftentimes contrary one to another; in some a pulse is violent, bleeding at the nose, thirst, the tongue dry and black, delirations, purple spots, and buboes; in others▪ a small pulse, vomiting, tongue yellow, livid, and sleepiness. And some sick are cur'd by remedies which kill others, as by

Vomits, Purges, and bleeding. Even of Sudorificks, the most sutable to this disease, some are temperate, and others hor. So that 'tis no wonder if a disease so irregular, being known to us onely by the relation of people, oftimes ignorant, the skilful be∣ing unwilling to venture themselves, makes such havock, since the small pox and other diseases would make no less, though pos∣sibly in longer time, if they were as little understood.

II. Of the wayes of occult writing.

Upon the Second Point 'twas said, That the Ancients deser∣vedly reckon'd secrecie amongst their fabulous Deities, under the name of Harpocrates the God of silence, since 'tis not onely, as the Poet saith, the God of the master of Gods, that is, Love, but the Governour of the mysteries of Religion, the Guardian of Civil Society; and, as the Philosopher speaks, the God of the publick and private Fortune, which is maintain'd by secrecie, the Soul of the state and business; whence cyphers, and occult ways of writing took their birth. The Hebrews were the first that practis'd cyphers, of which they had six sorts; L'Etbah, by trans∣position of Letters; Themurah, by their commutation; Ziruph, by combination and changing of their power; Ghilgal, by changing of their numeral quotitié; Notariaszon, putting one Letter or one Syllable for a word; and Gematry, which is an equivalence of measures and proportions. But these sorts of cyphers have been found too troublesome and equivocal, and besides, more recreative then solid. The truncheon encompassed with a thong, which was the Laconick Scytale, the cypher of the Lacedaemonians; that of Julius Caesar▪ who put D for A, and E for B, and so of the other Letters, and the odd figures given by others to the twenty four Letters, are too gross to be well conceal'd. The Dactylogie of Beda is pretty, whereby we speak as nimbly with the fingers as with the tongue, taking the five fingers of one hand for Vowels, and the several positions of the other for Consonants. But it can be us'd onely in presence. They talk also of the same way by bells, trumpets, arquebuses, fires, torches, and other such means; but because they depend on the sight and the hearing, which act at a certain distance, they cannot be useful in all cases. The transmission of thoughts and spirits contriv'd by Trithemius and Agrippa, and that invention of quadrants, whereby some have phancy'd it possible to speak at any distance by help of a Load-stone, are as ridiculous as that of Pythagoras, to write with blood on a Looking-glass, and re∣flect the same upon the face of the Moon. For besides, that the Moon is not alwayes in a fit position, could a fit glass be found; the writing would not be secret, because that Luminary is ex∣pos'd to the Eyes of all the world. No cypher is comparable to that of writing when 'tis well contriv'd; to which purpose they make use of keys to cypher upon the Alphabets, which are infinite, depending upon every one's phancy; being sometimes either one Letter, or one word, or altering in the same discourse

and at every word. Sometimes they divide the discourse, and one half serves for a key to the other; sometimes they put key upon key, and cypher the key it self with other keys. They put Naughts at the end of words to distinguish them, or every where amongst the Letters to deceive the Decypherer, and under these they cypher another hidden sense by other keys; yea, they insert other Naughts amongst them for a third sense, or to cause more difficulty. Some make use of numbers, abridge or multiply the Alphabet, and prepare tables wherein they put three Letters for one. In fine, humane wit hath left nothing unattempted for the concealment of thoughts under the veil of cyphers; of which, the most perfect are those which seem not to be such, hiding under a known sense, and an intelligible dis∣course, an other sense unknown to all others besides the corre∣spondents; such is that of Trithemius, by those three hundred seventy five Alphabets of significative words, each expressing one single Letter.

The Second said, All the several wayes of occult writing de∣pend either upon the matter or the form. To the first belong the sending of Swallows, Pigeons, or other birds, as also the in∣ventions of writing with Salt Armoniack, Alumn, Camphire, and Onyon, which appear onely at the fire. The formal de∣pends upon cyphers, which are fram'd either by the fiction of Characters, or by their commutation, using three or four Letters to write every thing, with some dashes or aspirations, which yet may be easily decypher'd, by reason of the frequent repetition of the Vowels; and those which are thought impossible to be discover'd, are commonly subject to great ambiguities, and so are dangerous.

The Third said, Of the three Authors which have writ con∣cerning this matter, Baptista Porta teaches rather to decypher then to cypher, and all his inventions are little secrets, as to write with Alumn. Those of Trithemius are very gross, of which nevertheless he hath compos'd three Books, the two first intel∣ligible enough, but the third so obscure, and promising so many miracles, that Bellarmine, and many others thought it full of Sorceries, which yet are nothing but the same secrets mention'd in the two foregoing Books, but hid under more suspicious words; amongst which that of the Spirit, which is very fre∣quent, signifies the Alphabet or the Key of the Secret, and to look under a stone and take thence a charme which the Spirit left there, or to invoke the same Spirit, signifies that you must go and take from under a stone agreed upon the cypher'd letter, and decipher it by the same alphabet upon which it was cypher'd. Vigenarius spends half his Book in speaking of the Cabala of the Jews, and the Caldeans, and the other half in ma∣ny Alphabets of all sorts, with Key and without: he hath in∣deed abundance of Cyphers which seem undecypherable, which he makes to depend on three differences. 1. On the form of

Characters, which comprehends several figures, lines, and co∣lours. 2. On their order and situation; but changing the Al∣phabet almost infinite ways. 3. On their value and power, giving such signification to one letter or character as you please: All which are easily known for cyphers. The second condition of a cypher, and which follows that of secresie, being not to appear such; the least suspicion causing the stopping of the pa∣per, and so rendring it unprofitable to the writer; which has given occasion to some to cover characters drawn in oyl with something that might be wash'd off, besides other such inventi∣ons to take away suspicion; such as that of having two Books of the same impression, and under pretext of sending Tables of Astrology, or Merchants Bills, to design by cyphers the letter of the Book which you mean to express, the first cypher signifying the fourth page, the second the fourth line, and the third the fourth letter of that line, which you would denote.

CONFERENCE XCIX.

I. Of Ignes fatui. II. Of Eunuchs.

I. Of Ignes fatui.

'TIs a question whether 'twould be more advantageous to mans contentment to be ignorant of nothing, since then he would admire nothing, which is one of his greatest pleasures. Hence a Peasant beholding a flake of fire following him, or go∣ing before him in the night time, will be otherwise ravish'd with it then a Philosopher, who knows or thinks he knows the cause of it; there being little difference herein, as to our satisfaction. They conceive it to be an unctuous exhalation, apt to be in∣flam'd, like the fatty steam of a Candle newly put out, which instantly conveighs down the neighbouring light to seek its ali∣ment: But the same example shews us, that fire very suddenly devours its aliment when it is subtile and thin: So that if a fire of straw, which is much more material then an exhalation, vanishes so quickly that we express the most transient momenta∣ry things thereby, how can a far thinner exhalation keep this foolish fire so long? which, besides, burns not, as appears by its sticking innoxiously upon the hair of men and manes of horses; and yet Aqua-vitae never so well rectified will singe the hair, as was sometimes verified to the great prejudice of one of our Kings; which would make me think, that as all fire is not lu∣minous (as a hot dunghil burns your finger, and fire excited by motion burns much more without blazing) so there are some lights which are not igneous, as in Heaven the Stars, and in Earth some rotten woods, certain fishes, worms, eyes, flesh of animals, and other more such subjects, which cannot be more

susceptible of those lights which burn not, then the Air which is the prime diaphanous body, and consequently most capable of receiving them; although possibly we cannot truly know what temper the Air must acquire to become luminous, no more then what is fit for it in other subjects, For to attribute the cause thereof to purity or simplicity, signifies little; for earth and ashes are more simple then the flesh, or other part, dead or living, of an Animal; and yet this shines, and those not.

The Second said, That these fires may be referr'd to four sorts. The first resemble falling Stars or lighted Torches, which Plutarch saith were seen to fall upon Pompey's Camp the eve be∣fore the Battle of Pharsalia. The second is that kind of flame which has appear'd upon the heads of some, as of Ascanius in Virgil, and of Servius Hostilius; which was an omen to them of Royalty. The third are those which appear at Sea about the Masts and Shrouds of the Ships, named by the Ancient, Ca∣stor and Pollux when they are two, and when but one, Helena; and by the Moderns, the fire of S. Elme. The last are those which are seen in the Country in the night time, and are thought to drive or draw Travellers into precipices. As for the first, 'tis certain that the same exhalation which makes Comets in the highest Region of the Air, and Thunders in the middlemost, is also the matter of these falling Stars, and being rais'd in small quantity from the earth is condens'd by the cold of the middle Region, where finding no cloud strong enough to uphold it, 'tis inflam'd by the antiperistasis of its contrary, or the swift motion of its fall, by reason of its great heat and siccity. And as they proceed from the same cause as dry winds do, so they presage winds and drought▪ especially in that quarter from whence they fall. But as for the other sorts, I conceive they are only lights, and not fires: For the Air being transparent, and the first subject of Whiteness, as Aristotle saith, hath like∣wise in it self some radical light, which is sustein'd by that of the Stars which shine in the night. And this whiteness of the Air is prov'd by the appearance of it when tis enclos'd in moist bodies, as in froth, snow, and crystal; which whitness is very symbolical to light, which it preserves and congregates, as is seen by the same snow in a very dark night: Yea, to speak plainly, whiteness is nothing else but light extinct, luminous bodies appearing white neer a greater light, and white lumi∣nous in darkness. So 'tis possible that the thinner parts of the Air being inclos'd in these unctuous vapours, they appear en∣lightned and shining, as well by reason of the condensation of its body as the inequality of its surfaces; like a diamond cut in∣to several facets; or as the Stars appear luminous only by being the denser parts of their Orbs. And this kind of light has been seen upon the heads of children, whose moister brain exhal'd a vapour proper for it; such also as that is which forms the Will-i'th'-Wisp, which may also proceed from the reflection of

the Star-light from the Sea, or Rocks: For, That two of these fires bode good to Seamen, and one ill, is but one of the su∣perstitions of Antiquity; unless you think that the greater number of fires argues greater purity of the Air, and conse∣quently less fear of tempest.

The Third said, He accounted the common opinion more so∣lid, which teacheth two material principles of all Meteors, Va∣pour and Exhalation; but one and the same efficient, the heat of the Sun, which lifts the thinner parts of the water in a va∣pour, and those of the earth in an exhalation; the former hot and moist, the latter hot and dry, borrowing their heat from an extraneous heat; but vapour hath humidity from the wa∣ter, and exhalation siccity from the earth; yet this siccity must be joyn'd with some unctuosity to admit the heat, which acts not upon bodies destitute of all humidity, as the driest ashes are not alter'd by the hottest fire. The driest and least unctu∣ous of these Exhalations are in the middle Region transform'd into winds and tempests, in the entrails of the earth they cause Earth-quakes; and if they be somewhat more unctuous they make subterranean fires; in the upper Region they form Co∣mets, and in the lower our Ignes fatui, which are different, ac∣cording to the divers coition of their matter, in length, breadth, or circularly; whence comes the difference of these Meteors call'd falling Stars, Flames, leaping Goats, flying Dragons, Beams, Lances, Javelins, and other like names, from the fi∣gure of their matter. Yet all these differences are chiefly taken from the magnitude, figure, colour, time, motion, and place of these fires. Magnitude, because some are large and spatious, others very small. Their figure comes from chance; their co∣lour from the mixture, rarity, or density of the matter. Their time is chiefly the night, being then most visible. Their place, from the Heaven of the Moon to the centre of the Earth. Their motion according to the six differences of place, and the situa∣tion of their subject: Hence they pursue those that fly them, and on the contrary fly before those that pursue them; whereupon the ignorant vulgar takes them for evil spirits, because they drive and lead them into precipices and bogs, which is from their following the unctuous matters which they exhale from those places; whence also they commonly appear near places of execution, and Church-yards.

II. Of Eunuchs.

Upon the Second Point 'twas said, That the Canons make three sorts of Eunuchs; the natural, the factitious, and the vo∣luntary; congruously to our Lords division in the Gospel, that some are born, others are made by men, and others make themselves Eunuchs for the Kingdom of Heaven; which is no more to be taken literally then the plucking out of the eyes, or the cutting off of the hands when they offend us; but mysti∣cally,

for those who voluntarily renounce the pleasures of the flesh. Their original is as ancient as the Law of Nations, whereby the Conquerors giving law to the conquer'd chang'd the punishment of killing them into mutilation of some mem∣bers, and amongst the rest of these, to make them more faith∣ful and affectionate by depriving them of the means of getting children, and more trusty in keeping of their goods and wives. Hence they have come to be so highly esteem'd, that not only the Emperors of Constantinople, the Kings of Egypt, Persia and Chaldea, have entrusted them with the management of all their affairs; but also, in the Roman Empire, an Eunuch Slave was valu'd at five times as much as another. Besides that their purity has qualifi'd them amongst the Heathen for Priests of their Deities; amongst which the Goddesses Isis and Cybele ad∣mitted no other, which possibly, by antiphrasis, were call'd Galli. Even in Christianity, the Eunuch of the Queen Candace was the first Gentile call'd to the light of the Gospel; the expressions whereof Origen understanding literally castrated himself, by an example so singular that St. Jerome chose rather to admire, then to blame the greatness of his courage.

The Second said, If it be true, that good consists in the per∣fection of all parts, and evil in their least defect, the deficiency of those necessary to the conservation of the species is the greatest of all, since it devests us of the noble quality and cha∣racter of man, which an Eunuch is no longer, nor yet a Wo∣man, but something less then both. And as the propagation of men is an effect of the divine benediction at the beginning of the World, so the barrenness and impotence of Eunuchs, con∣trary to that fruitfulness, is abhorr'd by all the world, and was taken by the Jews for a curse. Moreover, Nature which is the principle of motions and generations, seems to disown those who want the parts requisite to this action. The Laws forbid them the priviledge of adoption, and most Offices and Digni∣ties. God himself, in the old Law, prohibited them entrance in∣to his Church; and in the New the Church forbids them the use of her Sacraments, namely, Orders and Marriage. Nor is it any wonder, since every thing in nature is fruitful, even ac∣cidents reproducing their species, which are so many generati∣ons. Wherefore finding no place among natural things, nor in the Categories, it follows that they are monsters. The Em∣peror Adrian extended the penalty of the Law Cornelia against those who make Eunuchs, or consent any way thereunto, L. 4. S. ad. L. Corn. And before him the Pretors had introduc'd divers actions touching this matter; as the action of Injuries, of the Edict of the Aediles, and of Quadruple in the Law, 27. S. ad leg. Aquil. And, lastly, the Emperor Constantine expresly in∣terdicted Castration in all the Empire, under pain of life, and others contain'd in two Laws, De Eunuchis, in the Code.

The Third said, That whether you consider Eunuchs in re∣ference to the body or the mind, they are happier then others. They are out of danger of being gouty and bald, two maladies, whereof the one extremely torments a man, and the other disho∣nours him; and it cures the most horrible of all maladies, the Leprosie. On the other side, it puts the same difference be∣tween the manners of men as it doth between untractable horses and others. Hence the Castrated are more pleasant company; and to contribute thereunto Nature has afforded them the grace of a delicate voice all their lives, which forsakes children as soon as they come to puberty: and being exempted from the diseases which the excess of Venery brings to others they are longer-liv'd, and more easily bear the excess of wine. They are deliver'd from the cruel servitude of lust, and all the other passions which attend it. And in recompence of those parts wherewith Asses and Mules are better provided then men, they are early furnish'd with wisdom and continence, which (as the example of Susanna's old Lovers shews) happens later to man then grey hairs. Moreover, Eunuchs have a fit temper for goodness of wit, which, according to some, occasi∣on'd the Greek name Eunuch, and not their charge of guarding the bed, and observing the deportments of Wives; whole sub∣tilty and infidelity may delude their Husbands, but could never deceive the vigilance of these Argusses; who in this alone shew what they can do, since they have the skill to govern that sex which is indisciplinable by all other.

CONFERENCE C.

I. Of the Green-Sickness. II. Of Hermaphrodites.

I. Of the Green-sick∣ness.

AS women have commonly more defects in mind, so their bodies are subject to more diseases then those of men; amongst which this is call'd Love-sickness, because it ordinarily happens to marriageable Virgins, and the Green-sickness (by Hippocrates, Chlorosis) from a colour between green and livid, which it imprints upon the countenance. Yet, besides this change of the natural colour, which is red, it hath divers other symptomes, whereof the chief are a perverse appetite, call'd Malacia or Pica, Nauseousness, Tension of the Hypochondres, faintings and palpitations of the heart, difficulty of breathing, sadness, fear, languishing, weakness, and heaviness of all the members, an oedematous humour, or bloatiness of the feet and the whole face: of which accidents those of the altera∣tion

of colour being the most perceptible, and the pathog∣nomonical signes of this disease have with the vulgar gi∣ven the denomination to it. This malady is not to be sleighted, as people imagine; being sometimes so violent, that the peccant humours being carri'd to the head ren∣der the Maidens distracted and mad; yea sometimes they dye suddenly of it, the heart and its vital faculty being stifled and oppress'd by it. For this symptome hurts not only the functions of one part or faculty, but invades the whole oeconomy, causing an evil habit, which degenerates into a Dropsie; especially, that which the Physitians call Leucophlegmatia or Anasarca, when the flesh like a spunge imbibes and attracts all the aqueous and excrementitious hu∣midities. The antecedent and prime cause of this malady is the suppression of the menstrual blood; the conjunct and proximate is the collection of crude and vicious humours in all the parts of the body which they discolour. Now when the blood which serves in women for the principle of generation becomes burdensom to nature, either by its quan∣tity, or its quality (which happens commonly at the age of puberty) she expells it by the vessels of the womb; which if they be stop'd, that blood mingled for the most part with many other excrementitious humours which it carries along with it, as torrents do mud, returns the same into the trunk of the hollow Vein, from thence into the Liver, Spleen, Mesentery, and other Entrails, whose natural heat it impairs, and hinders their natural functions, as concoction and sanguification, and so is the cause of the generating of crude humours; which being carried into all the parts of the bo∣dy, are nevertheless assimilated and so change their natural colour. Of which causes which beget those obstructions in the Vessels of the Matrix, the chief are, a phlegmatick and viscous blood commonly produc'd by bad food, as Lime, Chalk, Ashes, Coals, Vinegar, Corn, and Earth, which young Girles purposely eat to procure that complexion, out of a false perswasion that it makes them handsomer. Yet this malady may happen too from a natural conformation, the smalness and closeness of the aforesaid Vessels; whence the fat and phlegmatick (as the pale are) are more subject to it then the lean and brown.

The Second said, 'Tis an opinion so universally receiv'd that the Green-sickess comes from Love, that those who fight under his Standards affect this colour, as his liveries. But 'tis most appropriate to Maidens, as if nature meant to write in their faces what they so artificially conceal, and supply for their bashfulness by this dumb language. Where∣unto their natural Constitution conduecs much, being much colder then that of men; which is the cause that they be∣get

abundance of superfluous blood, which easily corrupts, either by the mixture of some humour, or for want of free motion (like standing waters, and inclos'd air) and infects the skin, the universal Emunctory of all the parts, but espe∣cially that of the face, by reason of its thinness and softness. And as obstructions are the cause, so opening things are the remedies of this malady; as the filings of Steel prepar'd, Sena, Aloes, Myrrhe, Safron, Cinamon, roots of Bryony and Birth-worth, Hysope, wild Mecury, the leaves and flowers of Marigold, Broom flowers, Capers, &c.

The Third said, That the vulgar opinion, that all Green∣sickness is from Love, is a vulgar errour. For though the Poet writes that every Lover is pale, yet hatred causes pale∣ness too; and the consequence cannot be well made from a passion to a habit. Besides, little Girles of seven and eight years old are troubled with this disease, and you cannot think them capable of love; no more then that 'tis through want of natural purgation in others after the age of puberty; for women above fifty yeers old, when that purgation ceases, have something of this malady. Yea men too have some spices of it sometimes; and yet the structure of their parts, being wholly different from that of females, allows not the assigning of the same cause in both. Yea did the common conceit hold good that those who have small vessels, and (as such) capable of obstruction, are most subject to it; yet the contrary will follow to what is inferr'd to their prejudice. For they will be the less amorous, because the lesser vessels have the lesser blood, which is the material cause of Love, to which we see sanguine complexions are most inclin'd.

II. Of Herma∣phrodites.

Upon the second Point 'twas said, That if Arguments taken from the name of the thing be of good augury, Hermaphro∣dites must have great advantage from theirs, as being com∣pounded of the two most agreeable Deities of Antiquity, Mercury or Hermes, the Courtier of the Gods, and Venus or Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love; to signifie the perfection of both sexes united in one subject. And though 'tis a fiction of the Poets that the Son begotten of the Adultery of Mer∣cury and Venus was both male and female; (as well as that of the Nymph Salmacis, who embrac'd a young man who was bath∣ing with her so closely that they became one body) yet we see in Nature some truth under the veil of these Fables. For the great∣est part of insects and many perfect animals have the use of either sex. As the Hyaena, by the report of Appian, one year do's the office of a male, and the next of a female; as the Ser∣pent also doth, by the testimony of Aelian; and as Aristotle saith, the Fish nam'd Trochus; and 'tis commonly said that the Hare impregnates it self. Pliny mentions some Nations who are born

Hermaphrodites, having the right breast of a Man, and the left of a Woman. Plato saith, that Mankind began by Hermaphro∣dites, our first Parents being both Male and Female, and that having then nothing to desire out of themselves, the Gods be∣came jealous of them, and divided them into two; which is the reason that they seek their first union so passionately, and that the sacred tye of Marriage was first instituted. All which Plato undoubtedly learn'd out of Genesis; For he had read where 'tis said, (before Eves formation, or separation from Adam is men∣tion'd) That God created Man, and that he created Male and Female.

The Second said, That Natural Reason admits not Herma∣phrodites; for we consider not those who have onely the ap∣pearances of genital parts which Nature may give them, as to Monsters two Heads, four Arms, and so of the other parts, through the copiousness of matter; but those who have the use and perfection of the same, which consists in Generation. For Nature having never put into the same subject an internal and radical principal of two contrary desires, as that of Man is to that of Woman, (the one consisting in action, the other in pas∣sion; the one in giving, the other in receiving) they cannot belong to one single individual; which should also be both Agent and Patient, contrary to the common Axiom founded upon the first Principle, that a thing cannot be and not be at the same time. Moreover, the qualities of the Genitures being contrary, that of the Woman cold and moist, and that of the Man hot and dry, they cannot meet in the same subject in so excellent a degree as is requir'd to generation. For the strength divided is never so vigorous as united, especially when its sub∣jects are different. No Hermaphrodites ever us'd both sexes per∣fectly, but at least one of them weakly and abusively; and con∣sequently, they are justly punish'd by the Laws. For were both parts equally fit for Generation, 'twere contrary to policy to hinder them from using the same, propagations be∣ing the chief Nerves of a State. But these people are oblig'd to make choice of one Sex, that by this election it may be konwn which they exercise best, and may be prohibited the abuse of the other.

The Third said, There's nothing in Nature so disunited, but is rejoyn'd by some medium. As there are Spirits apart, and Bodies apart, so there are animated Bodies consisting of both. Amongst beasts, Leopards, Mules, Doggs, and many others, partake of two different Natures; the Bat is between a beast and a bird, as Frogs, Ducks, and other amphibious creatures, partly Fish, and partly Terrestial Animals. The Bonaretz is a plant and an animal; the Mushrome is between earth and a plant. So since there is Man and Woman, there may also be some nature con∣taining both. As to the cause of them, besides nature's general

inclination to reunite different things, it seems that the same which produces monsters produces also Hermaprodites, especi∣ally when the matter is more then needs a single Man or Wo∣man, and too little for two. Nature herein imitating a Foun∣der, who casting his metal in a mould, if there be any over-plus, it sticks to the Piece which he intended to form. Unless you had rather say, that if both the seeds be of equal power, and neither predominant over the other, the Formative Virtue then pro∣duces both sexes, which it would have distinguish'd into two Twins, had there been matter sufficient for two Twins. Whereun∣to also the Imagination of the Mother may also contribute. For since some have been born with Virilities sticking at the end of their Nose, and other places of the Countenance, Nature seems less extravagant when she places them in their true situation; there being no likelyhood, in the Astrologers account, that the conjunction of Mercury and Venus in the eight house (which they assign to births) is the cause hereof.

The Fourth said, That Hermaphrodites being of those rare and extraordinary effects, which fall no more under Law then under Reason, 'tis very difficult to assign the true natural causes of them. Yea, if there be nothing less known then forms, and their original, even when Nature acts regularly, we cannot but be more at a loss in the combinations of forms and species, and coupling of sexes, which are deviations from the rule of Nature. Hermaphrodites, who have both sexes, are of four sorts; for they have Virilities in the ordinary place, and muliebrities either in the perinaeum, or the scrotum; or else the feminine parts being in their right place, the masculine appear above them, as is seen many times in Goats; or lastly, the Virilities lying hid in the middle of the other, at length come forth, as ha's hapned to many Girls and Women turn'd into Men; as to Marie Ger∣main, by the relation of Montagne; to Arescon, a Native of Argos, who was sirnam'd Arescusa, according to Martianus. And Hippocrates affirms, in 6. Epid. that a Woman nam'd Phaetusa, who after she had had Children by her Husband Pytheus the Abderite, this her Husband being long absent from her, she came to have a beard, and the other badges of virility. The same he also testifies to have hapned to Namysia, the wife of Gorippus, in the Isle of Thasus. Of which effects we shall easily find the reason, if we say, with Galen, that Woman is an imper∣fect Animal, and a fragment of Mankind; and so 'twill be no wonder to see a Woman become a Man, then to see all other things acquire the perfection due to their Nature, which they ought to attain, lest their inclination thereunto be in vain. Moreover, 'tis certain, that a Woman desires a Man, as Matter doth Form; Power, Act; Imperfection, Perfection; Deformi∣ty, Beauty; in a word, the Female the Male; Nature affording us many examples of these changes of sexes, and metamorphoses.

So Metals and Elements are turn'd one into another; Wheat in∣to Cockle; Rye into Wheat; Barley into Oats; Origanum in∣to Wild Thyme; Sisymbrium into Mint. Which caus'd Anax∣agoras to say, That every thing is in every thing. According to which principle, the Male is actually in his Female; and Herma∣phrodites are no more, saving 'tis more conspicuous. So that the Ancients left us some truths under the figures of a god Lunus and the Moon, and of a bearded Venus, to whom the Dames of Athens sacrific'd in mens clothes.

The Fifth said, That the transmutation of sexes is impossible by reason of the diversity of the Genitories in Men and Women, which is greater then is here fit to be display'd. But those Maidens who have been thought to change their Sex, were Her∣maphrodites, who retain'd the marks of the Feminine sex onely till a certain age, as that of Puberty, when the increased heat driving the Virilities forth did the same thing as it doth in Chil∣dren, whom it enables to speak at a certain age. Unless you will say, that the Clitoris caus'd the mistake by its resemblance; as it happens in that symptome call'd by Aegineta, Cereosis, or Cau∣da, which makes Tribades pass for Hermaprodites. The change of Men into Women, (not like that of Nero, and Sardanapalus) but of Tiresias mention'd by the Poets, is more impossible; unlesse they suppos'd that some causes destroying the heat of the Genital parts, and weakning the strength, the Virilities came to wither and retire inwards, as the Umbilical vessels do after the faetus is born; and that Nature conform'd to the cold temper superven'd in the whole body.

Notes

• * 1.1

  Guy, fig. Misletoe.