Malebranch's search after truth, or, A treatise of the nature of the humane mind and of its management for avoiding error in the sciences : vol I : done out of French from the last edition.

The Third Part. Of the contagious Communication of Strong Imaginations.

CHAP. I.

I. Of our Inclination to imitate others in all things; which is the Original of the Communication of Errors that depend upon the Power of Imagination.

II. Two Principal Causes that increase this Inclination.

III. What a Strong Imagination is.

IV. That there are several sorts of it: Of Mad Men, and of such who have a Strong Imagination according to the Sense which is here meant.

V. Two considerable Defects of those that have a Strong Imagination.

VI. Of the Power they have to Perswade and Impose.

HAving Explain'd the Nature of Imagina∣tion, the Defects to which it is subject, and how our own Imagination leads us into Error, there nothing more remains for us to Discourse of in this Second Book, but of the Contagious Communication of Strong Imaginati∣ons, and that is, of the Prevailing Power which some Men have to engage others in their Errors.

Strong Imaginations are extreamly Contagious; they prevail over those that are weak; they make 'em stoop to their own Laws, and imprint upon 'em their own Characters. Therefore, because Men that have particular Idea's, and a Strong and Vigorous Imagina∣tion, most commonly exceed the Bounds of Reason, there are few more General Causes of Error than this pernicious Communication of the Imagination.

For the better understanding what this Contagion is, and how it is transmitted from one to another, we must consider that all Men have need of one another, and that they are made to compose, among themselves, several Bodies, of which the Parts should have a mu∣tual Correspondence one with another; for the up∣holding of which Union it is, that God has command∣ed 'em to be Charitable one toward another; but be∣cause Self-Love might by little and little extinguish Charity, and by that means dissolve the Bond of Civil Society, the Almighty judg'd it convenient that Men should be united together by Natural Ties, which might subsist when Charity fail'd, and which might defend it against the Efforts of Self-Love.

These Natural Ties which are common to us with Beasts, consist in a certain Disposition of the Brain, with which all Men are endued, to imitate those with whom they Converse, to make the same Judgments which they do, and to be subject to the same Passions of the Mind to which they are subject. And this same Disposition usually unites Men together much more close and firmly than Charity grounded upon Reason, which sort of Charity is very rare.

Unless a Man be endu'd with this same Disposition of the Brain, to partake of our Sentiments and our Pas∣sions, he is incapable of his own Nature to unite him∣self with us, and compose one Body. He is like those Stones of an irregular form, for which there is no room in a Building, because they cannot be joined to the rest.

Oderunt hilarem tristes, tristem{que} jocosi, Sedatum celeres, agilem gnavum{que} remissi.

It requires a larger Portion of Vertue than Men are aware of, not to break with those that no way sympathize with our Passions, but whose Sentiments are in all things contrary to ours. Nor is it altoge∣ther without Reason: For when a Man has good cause to be Sad or Joyful, 'tis in some measure an Af∣front not to correspond with him in his Sentiments. If he be Sad, 'tis not proper to appear before him with a brisk and jolly Air, which argues Gladness, and which strongly imprints the Motions of it in his Imagination; for this is to put him out of that Con∣dition which is most convenient and pleasing to him, Sadness being the most delightful of all the Passions to a Man in Misery.

All Men therefore have a certain Disposition of the Brain, which naturally inclines 'em to be affected after the same manner as some of those with whom they Converse. Now there are two Principal Causes that foment and increase this Disposition, the first is in the Soul, the second in the Body: The first consists in the Natural Propensity of Men to Grandeur and Advance∣ment. This Propensity it is, which imperceptibly ex∣cites us to imitate Persons of Quality, in their manner of Speaking, Walking, Dress, and Outward Air. This is the Original of New Modes, of the Instability of living Languages, and of certain general Cor∣ruptions of Manners. This is the chief Origine of all Extravagant and Fantastick Novelties, which are not supported by Reason, but Human Fancy and Pleasure.

The other Cause which much incline to imitate others, and which we ought chiefly to Discourse of here, consists in a certain Impression which Persons of a Strong Imagination make upon Feeble Minds, and upon Tender and Delicate Brains. I un∣derstand by a Strong and Vigorous Imagination that Constitution of the Brain which makes it capable of Traces extreamly deep, and fill the Receptacle of the Mind in such a manner, that it cannot attend to other things than such as the Images themselves represent to it.

There are two sorts of Persons who have a Strong Imagination in this Sense. The first receive these deep Traces by an Unvoluntary and Irregular Impression of the Animal Spirits; and the others, of whom we intend principally to Discourse here, receive 'em from a certain Disposition which is observ'd in the Sub∣stance of the Brains.

'Tis visible that the first are absolute Mad Men, seeing they are constrain'd by the Natural Connexion which is between their Idea's and their Traces, to think upon things not thought of by others with whom they Converse; which renders 'em incapable of speak∣ing to the purpose, and answering directly to Questi∣ons that are ask'd 'em.

There are an infinite number of this sort of People who only differ in the more or the less; and it may be said, that all such as are agitated with some violent Passion are of their number, since at the time of their Emotion, the Animal Spirits so forcibly imprint the Traces and Images of their Passion, that they are incapable of thinking upon any thing else.

But 'tis to be observ'd, that all these sort of Per∣sons are not capable of corrupting the Imagination of any Man, let his Mind be never so weak, and his Brain never so soft and delicate; and this for two Reasons. The first, Because they are not able to an∣swer conformably to the Idea's of others, they can perswade 'em to nothing; And secondly, Because the Disturbance of their Mind being altogether manifest, whatever they say is hearken'd to with contempt.

Nevertheless, 'tis true that Passionate Persons put us into Passions, and make Impressions in our Imagina∣tion like those with which they themselves are affected. But in regard their Transports are manifestly visible, we resist those Impressions, and get rid of 'em soon after. They rub out of themselves, when they are not fomented by the Cause that produc'd 'em, that is to say, when the Transported Persons are departed out of our presence, and when the sensible sight of the Characters, which Passion form'd in the Counte∣nance, produces no farther Alteration in the Fibres of

our Brain, nor any Agitation in our Animal Spirits.

I only Examine here that sort of Strong and Vigo∣rous Imagination which consists in a Disposition of the Brain proper to receive very deep Traces of more feeble and less active Objects.

'Tis no defect, to have a Brain proper for a Strong Imagination of Things, and for the Reception of the most distinct and lively Images of the most inconsi∣derable Objects, provided that the Mind be always Mistress of the Imagination, that these Images be imprinted by her Orders, and that they may be de∣fac'd when she pleases; for hence arises sagacity and strength of Wit. But when the Imagination over∣rules the Soul, and these Traces form themselves by the Disposition of the Brain, and by the Activity of the Objects and Spirits, without expecting the Or∣ders of the Will, this is a most Mischievous Vice, and a kind of Madness. We shall therefore endeavour to set forth the Character of those who have a Strong Imagination of this sort.

To that purpose it behoves us to remember that the Receptacle of the Mind is confin'd to narrow limits. 2. That it is fill'd with no Object more easily than with the Sensations of the Mind, and generally with the Perceptions of Objects that affect us very much. 3. That the deep Traces of the Brain are always ac∣companied with Sensations, or other Perceptions that vigorously affect us. For thereby 'tis easie to know the Genuine Characters of their Wit who have a Strong Imagination.

The first is, that these Persons are not capable of giving a sound Judgment of things that are a little difficult and perplext, because the Receptacle of the Mind being fill'd with Idea's that are by Nature con∣nex'd with those very deep Traces, they have not the Liberty to think of several things at the same time. But in Compound Questions, 'tis requisite that the Mind should survey with one quick and suddain mo∣tion the Idea's of many things, and discover, at one single view, the Correspondencies and Connexions that

are necessary for the resolving of those Questions.

All Men know by their own Experience, that they are not capable of applying themselves to the Search of any Truth, at such time as they are afflicted with any violent Pain, because then, there are in the Brain those deep Traces which take up the Capacity of the Mind. Thus, those Persons of whom we speak, ha∣ving deeper Traces of the same Objects, (as we sup∣pose) they cannot have so great an Extension of Mind, nor comprehend so many things together as the others. The first Defect of these Persons is to have a narrow Wit, and how much the narrower it is, so much the deeper Traces their Brain receives of inconsiderable Objects.

The second Defect is, they are Visionaries, yet after a Delicate Manner, and difficult to be dis∣cover'd. The Vulgar sort of Men believe 'em not to be such; there are none but just and clear Wits that perceive their Visions, and the Deviations of their Imagination.

Now that we may be able to conceive the Original of this Defect, 'tis necessary to remember what we have said at the beginning of the second Book: That as to those things which are acted in the Brain, the Senses and Imagination differ only in the more and less; that it is by reason of the largeness and deepness of the Traces, that the Mind becomes sensible of Objects; that it judges of 'em as present, and capable of affecting it, and so near it as to make it sensible of Pain and Pleasure. For when the Traces of an Ob∣ject are small, the Soul imagines only that same Ob∣ject; it does not judge it to be present, nor does it look upon it to be very great or very considerable; but as the Traces become deeper and greater, the Mind also judges that the Object becomes greater and more considerable, approaches nearer to us, and lastly is more apt to affect and injure us.

Those Visionaries of whom we here discourse, are not arriv'd to that Excess of Folly, to believe they see present before their Eyes those Objects which are Ab∣sent. The Traces of their Brain are not yet deep

enough; they are but half Mad; were they absolute∣ly so, 'twere in vain for us to talk of 'em here. See∣ing that all Men being sensible of their Errors, they would not suffer themselves to be deluded by 'em. They are not Visionaries in respect of the Senses, but only in reference to the Imagination. Madmen are Visionaries in reference to the Senses, because they see not Things as they are, and many times believe they see those Things which are not. However 'tis evi∣dent that Visionaries in reference to the Senses, and in reference to the Imagination, differ only in the more and less; neither is the Passing from one Condition to the other very difficult. Whence it comes to pass, that the Distemper of Mind in the latter, ought to be re∣presented by comparing it with the Distemper of the former, which is more manifest, and more strongly affects the Mind; since in things which differ no o∣therwise than in the more or less, those things that less sensibly affect us are always to be explain'd by those things that affect us more vehemently.

The second Defect of those who have a strong and vigorous Imagination, is, that they are Visionaries as to the Imagination, or barely Visionaries; for we call those Madmen, that are Visionaries in reference to the Senses. And thus we have enumerated the Vices of Visionary or Fantastick Wits.

These People exceed their Bounds in every thing; they extol mean and abject things; they magnifie small things, and bring remote things near to the sight. No∣thing appears to 'em what it really is. They admire every thing; they exclaim against every thing with∣out Discretion. If they are naturally dispos'd to be fearful; I mean, if their Animal Spirits are in small quantity, without vigor, without motion, they are afraid of every thing, they tremble at the shaking of a Leaf. But if they abound in Blood and Spirits, which is most usual, they feed themselves with vain Hopes, and give themselves up to their Imagination which is fruitful in Idea's, and according to the Pro∣verb, they build Castles in the Air, with extraordi∣nary joy and satisfaction. They are vehement in their

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Passions, obstinate in their Opinions, always full of, and highly satisfied in the Contemplation of them∣selves. When they have a fancy to be accounted fa∣mous Wits, and to set up for Authors, (for there are Authors of all sorts, as well Visionaries as others;) What Extravagancies, what Deliriums, what Ravings are they not guilty of! They never imitate Nature, every thing is affected, forced, and rapturous; they rather Skip and Leap than Walk, they speak in Mea∣sure, they utter nothing but Figures and Hyperboles. If they addict themselves to Godliness, and to follow it according to their own Fancies, they put on a Spi∣rit of Judaism and Pharisaic Hypocrisie; their Minds are altogether intent upon the outside of things, Ex∣ternal Ceremonies, and performances of no moment: They become scrupulous, fearful, and superstitious. If you will believe them, every thing belongs to Faith, and every thing is Essential, except what really belongs to Faith, and what is truly Essential. For many times their Minds being taken up with Duties of little moment, they neglect the more useful and more important Precepts of the Gospel, in reference to Justice, Mercy, and Faith. What needs any more? They that desire to be convinc'd of these Defects, and many others, need only to consider what passes in their daily Conversations.

But they that have a Strong and Vigorous Imagi∣nation are endu'd with other Qualities, which 'tis very necessary for us to explain in this Place. We have only spoken hitherto of their Defects, we are now to Discourse of their Vertues and Prerogatives; among which they have one that principally regards our sub∣ject; for by means of that Prerogative they rule over the Minds of the Vulgar, obtrude their Idea's upon 'em, and communicate to 'em all those false Impres∣sions with which they are affected.

This Prerogative consists in a strong and vigorous manner of expressing themselves, though it be not na∣tural. They who have a strong Imagination of things, express 'em vigorously, and perswade all those who are convin••••••, rather by outward shew, and sensible

Impression, than by the force of Reason. For the Brains of those who excel in Strength of Imagination, admitting deep Traces of the Subjects which they imagine, as we have said before, those Traces for the most part are not imprinted without a great Com∣motion of the Animal Spirits, which dispose the whole Body after a quick and lively manner to express the Cogitations of the Mind. Thus the Air of their Face, the Tone of their Voice, and Elegancy of Speech en∣livening their Expressions, they gain Attention of their Spectators and Hearers, and prepare 'em to receive Mechanically the Impression of the Image that vio∣lently moves 'em. For in short, those things that are deeply infus'd into our Mind, are usually as deeply infus'd by us into the Minds of others. He that is mov'd by a vehement Passion, still moves others with the same Passion; and though his Rhetoric be often Irregular, yet for all that, 'tis very perswasive: Be∣cause the External Air and Gesture, as being most sen∣sible, acts more vigorously upon the Imagination of Men, than the most solid Arguments, that are se∣dately pronounced, because those Ratiocinations nei∣ther flatter the Senses, nor strike the Imagination.

Persons then, who excel in Imagination, have the advantage to please, to affect, and perswade, because they form the most lively and sensible Images of their thoughts. But there are other Causes that contribute to their easie gaining upon the Mind: For they never Discourse but upon easie Subjects, and such as are within the reach of Vulgar Apprehensions: They never make use of other Expressions and Terms than such as only excite the Confus'd Notions of the Senses, which always most vehemently affect us: They never talk of Sublime and Difficult Matters but after a Ram∣bling manner, and by way of Common Places: For they dare not venture themselves to dive into Particu∣lars, and stick close to Principles; whither it be, be∣cause they do not understand those Matters; or whe∣ther they are afraid lest they should for want of Terms intangle themselves, and tire the Minds of those that are not accustom'd to a serious Attention.

From what has been said, it is easie to judge, that the Vie••s of an Irregular Imagination are extreamly Contagious and th•••• they very easily insinuate and dispe••••e themselves into the Minds of most People. But they who have a Strong Imagination, being usu∣ally En••••••es to Reason and good Sense, because of their want of Wit, and the Phantomes of their Brain, to which they are subject, it may be thence readily in∣ferr'd, that there are few Causes of our Errors more universal, than the Contagious Communication of the Disorders and Distempers of the Imagination. But we ought to prove these Truths by Examples and Ex∣periments Familiar to all the World.

CHAP. II.

General Examples of the Force of the Imagination.

THere are frequent Examples of this Communica∣tion of the Imagination in Children, in respect of their Parents, more especially in Girles, in respect of their Mothers; in Men Servants in respect of their Masters; and Maid Servants in respect of their Mistresses; in Scholers in respect of their School-masters; Courtiers in respect of their Princes, and generally in all Inferiors in respect of their Superiors. Provided that Parents, Masters, and other Superiors be endued with some∣thing of a Strong Imagination; otherwise the Weak Imagination of Parents or Masters will make no con∣siderable Impression in Children or Servants.

The Effects of this Communication are also to be observ'd in Persons of Equal Conditions; but that is not so usual; because there is not that Veneration among them, which disposes the Mind in such a man∣ner as to admit the Impression of Strong Imaginations without any Examination. Lastly, these Effects are to be met with in Superiors in respect of their Infe∣riors: For many times Inferiors are endu'd with an

Imagination so lively and imperious, that they bend the Minds of their Masters and Superiors which way they please themselves.

It will be an easie thing to apprehend how Fathers and Mothers make very strong Impressions upon the Imaginations of their Children, if we consider, that these Natural Dispositions of our Brain, which in∣clines us to imitate those with whom we Converse, and to be affected with the same Sentiments and Pas∣sions, are far stronger in Children, in respect of their Parents, than in other Men: For which several Rea∣sons may be given; and the first is, because they are of the same Blood: For as Parents frequently trans∣mit to their Children a Disposition to certain Here∣ditary Distempers, as the Gout, the Stone, Madness, and generally all those Diseases which do not come by accident, or from some extraordinary Fermenta∣tion of the Humours, as Fevers, Agues, &c. for it is visible, that as those Diseases cannot be communi∣cated, so they imprint the Dispositions of their own upon the Brains of their Children, and bend their Ima∣ginations in such a manner, as to render 'em capable of the same Sentiments with themselves.

The second Reason is, because that Children have very little Familiarity with other Men, who might sometimes else impress other Traces in their Brains, and in some measure frustrate the continual Effort of Paternal Impressions. For as a Man that never stirr'd out of his own Country usually imagines the Manners and Customs of Foreign Nations to be altogether con∣trary to Reason, so a Child that never stirr'd out of his Fathers House, imagines the Sentiments of his Pa∣rents and their manner of living to be the Standard of Universal Reason; or, rather he does not believe there are any other Principles of Reason or Vertue, than what he has imbib'd from his Parents: He there∣fore believes whatever he hears his Parents say, and conforms himself in whatever they do.

But this Imagination of Parents is so strong, that it not only acts upon the Imagination of Children, but also upon other parts of the Body. A Son imitates

the Gate, the Speech, and Gestures of his Father. A Daughter imitates the Dress, the Pace, and Voice of her Mother: If the Mother Lisps, the Daughter Lisps; if the Mother have an ill Habit of holding her Head awry, the Daughter does so too. Lastly, Children imitate their Parents in every thing, in their Defects and their ill Gestures, in their Errors and their Vices.

There are several other Causes which augment the Effect of this Impression: Of which the chiefest are the Authority of Parents, the Dependency of Chil∣dren, and the mutual Affection both of the one and the other. But these Causes are common to Courtiers, and Servants, and generally to all Inferiors as well as to Children. We shall now Explain the Matter by the Example of Courtiers.

There are some People who judge of what they see, by what is conspicuous before their Eyes; as of Sublimness, Power, and Capacity of Mind, which lie conceal'd from their Knowledge, by that Nobility, those Dignities, and that Wealth which is known to 'em. They frequently measure one by the other. And our dependance upon Great Men so much above us, our desire to participate of their Grandeur, and the vast Splendour that environs 'em, incline us fre∣quently to pay Divine Honours to Mortal Men, if it may be lawful for me to say so. For if God confer Authority upon Princes, Men ascribe Infallibility to 'em; an Infallibility so universal as not to be circum∣scrib'd within any bounds in any thing, or upon any occafion, nor tied to any Ceremonies. Great Men know all things naturally: Though they decide Que∣stions of which they have no knowledge, yet they have always Reason on their side. He that dares ad∣venture to Examine what they say, is ignorant, and knows nothing; He that raises any doubts, derogates from that Veneration which is due to 'em; He that condemns 'em, is guilty of Rebellion; or at least is a Sott, a Madman, and fit for nothing but to be made a Laughing Stock to all the World.

But if Great Men vouchsafe us their Favours; then, if we do not approve all their Sayings, we are not only Obstinate, Headstrong, and Rebellious, but Un∣grateful and Perfidious; this is a fault beyond repai∣ration, that renders us unworthy of their Favours, which is the Reason that Courtiers, and by a necessary Consequence, almost all other People without any Consideration, swear to the Sentiments of their So∣vereign, and frequently surrender themselves, even in Matters of Religion, to their Humours and Ca∣pricio's.

France and Germany furnish us with too many Ex∣amples of these Irregular Submissions to the Impious Commands of their Princes. The Histories of later Ages are full of 'em. Nor were there wanting some Persons well advanced in years, who chang'd their Religion 4 or 5 times in compliance with the Incon∣stancy of their Princes in that Particular.

The Revolutions of Religion in Sweden and Den∣mark, may serve us for a Proof of the Dominion which some Minds have over others. But there were also other very considerable Causes of these Revolu∣tions. And these surprizing Changes are so many Proofs of the Contagious Communication of the Ima∣gination. But these Proofs are too general and great, they rather astonish and dazle the Mind, than illumi∣nate it, because there are too many Causes that concur to produce these great Events.

If Courtiers and other Men many times abandon Truths that are Essential, and not to be forsaken, but with the hazard of Eternity, 'tis visible that they will venture less to uphold abstracted Truths, less certain and of little use. If the Religion of the Prince be the Religion of his Subjects, the Reason also of the Prince must be the Reason likewise of his Subjects. And so the Sentiments of the Prince, will be always Alamode. His Pleasures, his Passions, his Words, his Habit, and generally all his Actions, will be imitated. For the Prince is himself the Essential Rule of Man∣ners: And it rarely happens that he does any thing but what is absolutely modish. Now as all the Al••••∣rations

of the Mode are no more than so many vari∣ous Ornaments and Graces, 'tis no wonder that Princes act so strongly upon the Imagination of other Men.

If Alexander hangs his Head on one side, all his Cour∣tiers do the same. If Dionysius the Tyrant applies himself to Geometry, upon the arrival of Plato at Syracuse, Geometry presently becomes Alamode, and the Kings Palace, says Plutarch, is immediately co∣ver'd with a Mist of Dust, through the great number of those that draw Figures upon the Ground. But so soon as Plato is offended with the Prince, and that the Prince indulging his Pleasures, begins to be weary of Geometry, the Courtiers also lay it quite aside. A Man would think, (continues the same Author) that they were inchanted, and that some Circe had trans∣form'd 'em into other Men: They pass from their Love of Philosophy, to their Inclination to Debau∣chery, which before they abhorr'd. Thus 'tis in the Power of Princes to change Vertues into Vices, be∣cause they are able to change all Idea's with a Word only; There needs no more than the least Nodd of their Heads, or the least motion of their Bodies, their Eyes, or their Lips, to make Knowledge and Learn∣ing pass for contemptible Pedantry; Rashness, Bru∣tishness, and Cruelty, for greatness of Courage; and Impiety and Libertinism for Strength and Liberty of Wit.

But in this, as well as in other things, I would have it presuppos'd, that Princes excell in Strength and Vigor of Imagination: For had they an Imagination Weak and Languishing, they could never enliven 'em with that Turn, and Energie, that invincibly subdues and vanquishes feeble Minds.

If the force of Imagination alone, without the as∣sistance of Reason, be able to produce such wonder∣ful Effects, there is nothing so Fantastick or Extrava∣gant which is not sufficiently powerful to perswade, let it be only supported by some Appearance of Rea∣son. I thus prove it by Examples.

An Ancient Author reports, that in Ethiopia the Courtiers made themselves Lame, and Deformed,

nay, that they even dismember'd, and laid violent hands upon themselves, that they might resemble their Princes: They look'd upon it as Ignominious to ap∣pear with two Eyes, or to walk upright in the Train of a Prince that was blind of one Eye, or halted of one Leg; in like manner, they durst not appear at Court but with a little indented Hat, with White Buskins, and Gilt Spurs: That Fashion of the Ethio∣pians was very Fantastical and Inconvenient, never∣theless it was the Mode: They follow'd it with a World of Joy, and defying the Pain which they were to endure, minded only the Honour which they did themselves, in shewing their Generosity and Affection for their King. Lastly, this False Argument of Friend∣ship supporting the Extravagance of the Fashion, has made it pass into a Custom and a Law that has been a long time observ'd.

The Relations of those who have Travell'd into the East, inform us that this Custom is still observ'd in se∣veral Countreys: But what necessity of twice cros∣sing the Line to fetch from thence the Religious ob∣servation of unreasonable Laws and Customs, or to find out People that follow inconvenient and Fantasti∣cal Modes; we need not go any farther than France; For wheresoever Men are indulgent to their Passions, wherever the Imagination is Mistress of Reason, there is also a prodigious Fantasticalness and Inconstancy of Manners: What think you of our Women, that dur∣ing the most bitter Frosts and Snow in Winter, display their Naked Breasts, but in the Excessive Heats of Summer they hide their Necks and Bosoms, and go so streight Lac'd that they can hardly Breath? Cer∣tainly if by that Custom they suffer not so much Pain as the Ethiopians, they ought at least to be more a∣sham'd: The Pain is not so great, but their Reason for enduring it is not so apparent, and there is at least an equal Fantasticalness. An Ethiopian may alledge, that 'tis out of Generosity that he digs out one of his Eyes; but what can a Christian Lady say for her self, that makes a vaunting shew of that which Nature and Religion oblige her to conceal? Only that 'tis the

Mode, and nothing more. But this Mode is Fan∣tastick, Inconvenient, Undecent, and Unworthy the Manners of a Christian. It has no other Original, but a Reason manifestly depraved, and a secret Cor∣ruption of the Heart; 'tis scandalous to observe it; 'tis openly to side with the Irregularities of the Ima∣gination against Reason; to revolt from Purity to Im∣purity, from the Spirit of God to the Spirit of the World: In a Word, 'tis a violation of the Laws of Reason and the Gospel, to follow this Mode. 'Tis no matter,— 'tis the Mode,— that is to say a Law more Sacred and Inviolable than that which God him∣self wrote upon the Tables of Moses, or which he en∣grav'd by his Holy Spirit in the Hearts of Chri∣stians.

In truth, I know not whether the French have any Reason to Laugh at the Ethiopians and Savages: 'Tis true that the first time a Man should happen to see a Lame and One-Eyed Prince, attended by a Company of Cripples and Single-Eyed Persons, 'twould be a hard matter to abstain from Laughter: However time would familiarize the Sight, and the greatness of their Courage and Friendship would be more ad∣mir'd, than the weakness of their Judgment would be derided: But 'tis not the same thing with the Modes of France; their Fantasticalness is not supported by any Probable Reason; so that if they are not so troublesome, they are still the more Ridiculous. In a word, they wear the Character of a most Corrupted Age, wherein there is nothing sufficiently powerful to moderate the Irregularity of the Imagination.

What we have said of Courtiers is to be understood of the greatest part of Men Servants in reference to their Masters, and Maid Servants in reference to their Mi∣stresses, and that we may not spend too much time, I would have it to be understood of all Superiors; but chiefly of Children in reference to their Parents: because Children are under a particular Dependency upon their Parents because their Parents have a par∣ticular Love and Tenderness for 'em, which other

Persons have not; Lastly, because Children are in∣duc'd by Reason to that Submission and Obsequious∣ness, that many times exceed the Bounds of Reason.

But 'tis not always necessary, that other Men should have Authority over us, or that we should depend in some measure upon 'em, to enable 'em to work upon the Imagination: For the only power of the Imagina∣tion is sometimes sufficient for that purpose, seeing it frequently falls out, that Persons, such as are unknown, of no Reputation, and for whom we are not prepos∣sess'd with any Esteem, are endu'd with such a force of Imagination, and by Consequence so lively and moving, that they perswade us we neither know which way, nor how. 'Tis true, it seems very strange, but there is nothing so common.

Now this Imaginary Persuasion can only come from the power of a Visionary Person, who speaks with∣out understanding what he says, and by that means inclines the Minds of those that hearken to him to believe strongly without knowing what they believe: For most Men are so stupified with the Effort of a Dazling Expression, that they judge as their Passion leads 'em, of those things which they understand but very confusedly. And I desire the Readers of this Treatise to observe such Examples as they meet with in their daily Conversations, and to revolve in their Minds what passes upon those Occasions; for I make no question but they will find more Benefit by it than they can imagine.

But it is farther to be observed, that there are two things that wonderfully contribute to the Operations of the Forcible Imagination of others over us: The first is an Air of Piety and Gravity; The second, an Air of Libertinism and Confidence. For according to our Propensity either to Devotion or Licentiousness, Persons that speak with a Grave and Pious Air, or an Air of Confidence, and Libertinism work very diffe∣rently upon us.

'Tis true, that of these there are some more dan∣gerous than others. However have a care of being deluded by the outward shews either of the one or

the other; or of submitting to any thing but the force of solid Arguments, To this may be utter'd after a Grave and Modest manner, and Impiety and Blas∣phemy may be cover'd with the Cloak of Piety. It behoves us to Examine according to the Precept of St. John, whether the Spirits are of God or no, and not confide in every Spirit. The Devils sometimes trans∣form themselves into Angels of Light. Nor are there wanting some Persons, who having, as it were, a Na∣tural Air of Piety, are look'd upon as Men endu'd with true Devotion, and under that Mask are so dar∣ing as to pronounce Men free and exempted from their Essential Obligations, and even from the Love of God and their Neighbours, on purpose to enslave 'em to some Pharisaical Practice or Ceremony.

But the Imaginations, whose Impression and Conta∣gion we ought most chiefly to avoid, are those of cer∣tain Persons in the World who affect the Title of Great Wits, which they acquire with little difficulty: For now there needs no more than with a certain Air of Impudence to deny Original Sin, the Immortality of the Soul, or to scoff at some receiv'd Opinion of the Church, to acquire the Rare Title of a Great Wit among the Common sort of Men.

These slender Wits are usually full of Fire, and I know not by what Air of License and Boldness they impiously impose upon other Mens Minds, and incline weak Imaginations to surrender to Lively and Plausi∣ble Words, but such as signifie nothing to those which duely weigh and consider 'em. They are very happy in their Expressions, though very unfortunate in their Reasons. But because even Men, how reasonable so∣ever they are, rather choose to be affected with the sensible Pleasure of Gesture and Expressions, than to tire themselves with the difficult Examination of Rea∣son; therefore 'tis visible that those Wits are preferr'd to others, and by that means communicate their Errors and Malignity through the Power which they have over the Imaginations of other Men.

CHAP. III.

I. Of the Force of the Imagination of certain Authors.

II. Of Tertullian.

ONE of the greatest and most Remarkable Proofs of the Power which some Imaginations have over others, is the Power that certain Authors have to per∣suade, though they bring no Reasons for what they say. For Example, Tertullian, Seneca, Montaigne, and some others give a Turn to their Words, that have so many Charms, and such a Lustre as dazles the Minds of most People, though in their Writings the Imaginations of those Authors be but imperfectly painted and shadow'd. Their Words, though they want Life, have a greater Efficacy in 'em, than the Reasons of some Persons: They enter, they penetrate, and command the Mind after so imperious a manner, that they force it to a blind Obedience, and tyranni∣cally compel it to an unthought of Submission. The Mind is willing to believe, but knows not what to be∣lieve; for when it fain would know what it desires to believe, and approaches near those Phantomes, to di∣stinguish what they are, they vanish into Air with all their Pomp and Splendour.

Though the Writings of the Authors above men∣tion'd are very proper to demonstrate the Force of Imagination, and though I propose 'em for Example sake, yet do I not go about to condemn 'em in all things: There are some certain Beauties in 'em that I cannot but applaud; nor is it my design to inveigh against the Universal Approbation of many Ages. I protest that I have a high Respect for some of Ter∣tullian's Works; more especially for his Apology against the Gentiles, and his Book of Prescriptions against He∣reticks; I also admire Seneca in some parts of his

Writings; but as for Montaigne's whole Book, I very little value it.

Tertullian was in truth a Man of profound Learn∣ing; but he had a better Memory than Judgment; he had more of Penetration and Extent of Imagina∣tion, than of Wit: Nor can it be denied but that he was a Visionary in that sense which I have already ex∣plain'd, and that he was infected with all those Vices which I have attributed to Visionary Wits. The Re∣spect which he had for Montanus and his Prophetesses, is an undeniable Proof of the Weakness of his Judg∣ment. That Heat, those Transports, those Enthusi∣asms of his upon Petty Subjects, palpably demonstrate the Disorder of his Imagination. How many irre∣gular Ceremonies are there in his Hyperboles, and his Figures? How many Pompous and Magnificent Ar∣guments, that only force Persuasion and Proof by astonishing and dazling the Mind?

Of what use, for Example, is it to that Author, when he would justifie himself for having put on the Philosopher's Gown, and not the Garment he was wont to wear, to tell us, that the Gown had formerly been in fashion at Carthage? Would it be a sufficient Excuse for a Man now to wear a Cap and a Ruff, because our Fore-fathers made use of them? And would it look decent for the Women in this Age to wear Fardingales and French Hoods, unless it were in Carnaval time, when they had a mind to disguise themselves?

What could he infer from those Pompous and Mag∣nificent Descriptions of the Revolutions and Casua∣lities that happen in the World, or what could they contribute to his Justification? The Moon varies in her Aspects; the Year in the Seasons of it; the Fields look of another Hue in the Winter, than in Sum∣mer. There happen Inundations that drown whole Provinces, and Earthquakes that swallow up entire Cities. New Cities are built, new Colonies settled; we have heard of Inundations of People that have over-run and subdu'd Kingdoms: in a Word, all Na∣ture is subject to change. Therefore Tertullian lays

aside his common Garment to put on his Gown. What, I would fain know, have all those various Mu∣tations, and others without number which he anxi∣ously enquires into, and describes with forc'd, ob∣scure, and wrested Expressions, to do with his Mat∣ter? The Peacock cannot move his Foot, but he changes colour; the Serpent creeping through some narrow Hole strips off his Skin and renews his Age; therefore Tertullian had reason to change his Habit. Who, in cold Blood, and with a Sedate Mind, but would draw these Conclusions; or, who would not laugh at the Author himself, to hear him make such Inferences; Did he not trouble and dizzy the Brains of his Reader with the noise of his Rhetorick?

Almost all the rest of his Little Book De Pallio, is full of Reasons as remote from his Subject, as These, which certainly could prove nothing at all, if the Mind did not suffer it self to be stupified; but 'tis to no purpose to stay any longer upon these Things. 'Tis sufficient to say thus much farther only, that if Exactness of Mind, as also Perspicuity and Clearness in Words ought always to appear in every thing we Write, seeing we Write to no other end but to be un∣derstood; If this, I say, be true, then is Tertullian never to be excus'd, who, by the Confession of Sal∣masius himself, the greatest Critick of this Age, did all he could to render himself obscure, and so well accomplish'd his de∣sign, that the Commenta∣tor himself is not afraid to swear, that he was ne∣ver as yet perfectly un∣derstood by any Man. But though the Genius of that Nation, the Custom then in fashion, or the Na∣ture of Satyr and Raillery at that time in use, might in some measure justifie his design of Studying

Obscurity, and setting himself above the Reach of Human Understand∣ing, all this can never be able to excuse the Idle Reasons, and Deviations of an Author, who in se∣veral other of his Works, as well as in This, adven∣tured to utter whatever came into his Mind, provided it were some extraordinary Thought, or some bold Expression by which he was in hopes to make a vaunt∣ing shew of the power, or to say better, of the irre∣gularity of this Imagination.

CHAP. IV.

Of Seneca's Imagination.

SEneca's Imagination is sometimes no better regulated than that of Tertullian. His Impetuous Commo∣tions frequently hurry him into Countreys unknown to him, where nevertheless he Travels with the same assurance, as if he had known where he was, and whither he was going. Provided he make large Steps, and adorn his Periods with Figures and just Caden∣cies, he thinks he has gone a great way: But he is like your Dauncers, who always end at the same place where they began.

It behoves us to distinguish rightly between the Force ond Beauty of Words, and the Force and Beauty of Reasons. 'Tis true there appears much of Efficacy and Elegancy in Seneca's Words, but there is little of Strength or Clearness in his Reasons. By the Strength of his Imagination he gives such a certain Turn to his Words, as to render 'em moving, stirring, and persuasive by Impression, but he does not afford 'em that perspicuity, nor that pure Light, whereby

the Mind may be enlighten'd and persuaded by Evi∣dence. He convinces because he moves, and pleases; but I can hardly believe that they are convinc'd by him that read him sedately, and who being aware of surprizal, never yield but when vanquish'd by per∣spicuity, and demonstrations of Reason. In a word, provided he speaks and speaks well, he is not very sol∣licitous what he says; as if a Man could speak well, yet not know what he said. And thus he convinces by a blind persuasion, which they who admit, do not well apprehend after what manner they came to ad∣mit; as if the Mind ought to suffer it self to be con∣vinc'd, unless it distinctly understand the Matter after due Examination.

What is more Pompous and Magnificent than his Idea of a Wise Man, yet at the Bottom, what more Vain and Imaginary? His Portraiture of Cato is too Illustrious to be accounted Genuine: They are Adul∣terations and Paintings that only impose upon such as never study or know the Nature of Man. Cato was a Man subject to all the Miseries that befall Mankind; and therefore to say he was invulnerable was an egre∣gious Mistake: They that strike him, hurt him. He had neither the Hardness of an Adamant, which Iron cannot bruise; nor the Firmness of Rocks, which the Waves cannot shake, as Seneca pretends. In a word, he was not in∣sensible. And the same Seneca finds himself o∣blig'd to grant it, when his Imagination was a little cool'd, and he be∣gan to reflect upon what he had said.

But will he not agree that his Wise-man may be reduc'd to Misery, since

he grants him not to be insensible of Pain: No, with∣out question, Pain does not affect his Wise-man; the fear of Pain does not disturb him: He is above the Frowns of Fortune, and the Malice of Men; they are not able to disquiet him.

There are no Walls or Towres in the strongest Places, which the Ramms and other Engines do not cause to shake; or which are not overturn'd by time. But there are no Engines so strong, as to be able to shake the Constant Mind of a Wise-man. You must not compare him to the Walls of Babilon that A∣lexander forc'd, nor those of Carthage or Numantia, which the same Arm over∣threw nor the Capitol and Citadel; they still retain the Marks of the Enemies having been Master of 'em.

Those Arrows which are shot against the Sun, never mount so high as to come near it. The Sa∣ctiledges that are com∣mitted in destroying Temples, and melting down the Images, never injure the Deity: The Gods themselves may be overwhelm'd under the Ruine of their Temples, but h••s Wise-man shall ne∣ver be overwhelm'd, or if he be, he shall receive no harm.

But never think, (says Seneca) that this Wise-man whom I describe to thee, is no where to be found. 'Tis not a vain fiction to raise the Mind of Man. It is not a great Idea with∣out Reality and Truth. It may be also that Cato surpasses this Idea.

But methinks, continues he, that I see your Spirit mov'd and in a heat. You will say perhaps that this is a way to make a Man contemptible, to promise things that can neither be believ'd nor hop'd for, and that the Stoicks only change the names of things, to speak the same things after a more mag∣nificent and pompous manner. But you are de∣ceiv'd. I do not go about to extol a Wise-man by these magnificent and plausible words: I only pretend, that he is in an inaccessi∣ble place, where he can receive no injury.

Thus you see how Seneca's strong Imagination pre∣vails over his weak Reason. But is it possible that Men, continually sensible of their Miseries and Weak∣nesses, can admit into their Breast such vain and soar∣ing Thoughts? Can a Rational Man ever be con∣vinc'd in himself, that his Pain never affects or hurts him? But wherefore does he force Cato upon us?

For certainly let him attribute as much fortitude and wisdom to him as he pleases, he never arrived at that height as to endure without any commotion; I will not say, the hainous Injuries of Men falling upon him, Beating and Robbing him, but the very Sting of a Flie. What can there be more weak against such strong and convincing Proofs, as those of our own Experience, than this Egregious Reason of Seneca's? and yet 'tis one of his Principal Proofs.

He that wounds, (says he) ought to be stronger than he that is wounded: Vice is not stronger than Vertue. Therefore a Wise∣man cannot be injur'd: For there needs no more than to answer, either that all Men are Sinners, and consequently deserve the Misery which they suffer; which Religion teaches us: Or if Vice be stronger than Vertue, the Vicious may be stronger some∣times than good Men, as Experience shews us.

Epicurus had reason to say, that Injuries were tole∣rable to a Wise Man. But Seneca was in the wrong to affirm, that Wise Men could not be injur'd. The Ver∣tue of the Stoics could not render 'em Invulnerable, since true Vertue does not hinder us from being Mi∣serable, nor from being fit Objects of Pity when we suffer any Mischief. St. Paul and the Primitive Chri∣stians had more Vertue than Cato and all the Stoics; nevertheless they confess'd, that the Pains which they suffer'd reduc'd 'em to misery, though they were happy in the hopes of Eternal Reward. Si tantum in hac vita sperantes sumus, miserabiliores sumus omnibus Homi∣nibus, says St. Paul.

God alone by his Grace can endue us with true and solid Vertue; and therefore he alone can bring us to

true and solid Happiness. But he neither promises nor bestows it in this Life. 'Tis in the other Life that we must hope for it from his Justice, as the Re∣ward of those Miseries which we suffer'd for Love of him. We are not at present in possession of that Re∣pose which nothing can trouble. Neither does the Grace of our Lord Jesus Christ afford us invincible strength; it leaves us to the feeling of our own weak∣ness, that being convinc'd of our frailty, we may un∣derstand that there is nothing in this World where∣with we may not be injur'd; and that we may be en∣abled to bear those injuries which are offer'd us, with that true Patience, which arises from Christian Humi∣lity and Modesty, not with a lofty haughty Patience, that appear'd in the Constancy of proud Cato.

Cato took in good part a Box of the Ear that was given him; he never reveng'd himself; nor did he pardon it; but he arrogantly deny'd that he had any injury done him. He would have it believ'd that he was above those that struck him: His Patience was nothing but Pride and Insolency: It was injurious to those that affronted: For by that same Stoical Pa∣tience did Cato shew, that he look'd upon his Enemies as Beasts, that are not worth the anger of a Wise∣man, and therefore he takes no notice of 'em. 'Tis this same Scorn of his Enemies, and high Esteem of himself, that Seneca calls greatness of Courage. Ma∣jori animo, says he of the injury done to Cato, non agnovit quam ignovisset. How madly does he con∣found Magnanimity with Pride, and separate Patience from Humility, to join it with insufferable Arrogancy! But how delightfully does this same Madness flatter the Vanity of Man, who always refuses to submit and debase himself? And how dangerous is it, espe∣cially for Christians, to imbibe the Doctrine of a Master so Indiscreet and void of Judgment as Seneca; but whose Imagination is so strong, so vigorous, and so impetuous, that it dazles, and like a Torrent hur∣ries along with it People of weak Understanding, and such as are prone to the Flatteries of Pleasure and Concupiscence.

Rather let Christians learn from their Master, that the Wicked are they who are able to hurt 'em, and that Good Men are sometimes liable to the Injuries of the Impious by the permission of Providence. When one of the Officers belonging to the High-Priest smote Jesus Christ upon the Face, He, the Wisest of all the Wisest among Christians, infinitely Wise, and likewise as Powerful as he is Wise, does not deny but that he was injur'd by the Officer; however he was not angry; he does not, as Cato did, revenge him∣self, but he pardons, as one that had suffer'd a real Injury; He could have reveng'd himself, and de∣stroy'd his Enemies; bu the suffer'd with an humble and modest Patience, which was no way injurious to any body; no, not to the Miscreant that did him the Mischief. Cato on the other side, neither being able, nor daring to take a real Revenge for the Injury he had receiv'd, feigns at least an Imaginary Vengeance that flatters his own Vanity and Pride; he raises him∣self in his own mind above the Clouds; from thence he beholds poor Mortals as small as Flies, and he con∣temns 'em as Infects uncapable of hurting him, and unworthy of his Anger. This is a Fiction becoming the Wise Cato. From this Fiction arises that Magna∣nimity and Constancy of his Courage that resembles him to the Gods. It is this that renders him invul∣nerable, since it advances him above all the Strength and Malig••ity of other Men. Poor Cato! who by thy Vertue think'st thy self superior to all other Mor∣tals! Thy Wisdom is but Madness, and thy Magna∣nimity an Abomination in the sight of God, what∣ever the Wise Men of the World thinks of it; There are Visionaries of several sorts; some imagine them∣selves to be transform'd into Cocks and Hens; others believe themselves to be Kings or Emperors; others in imitation of the Deity, arrogate an absolute Inde∣pendency to themselves. But though Men are al∣ways look'd upon as Madmen who believe themselves to be transform'd into Cocks or Kings, yet are they not always number'd among the Frantick Visionaries, who believe that their Vertue resembles 'em to God, and Independent from all Authority and Command,

The Reason of it is, that it is not enough to have Raving Thoughts to be counted a Madman; they must be accounted Phrentick and Ridiculous by o∣thers: For Madmen never pass for what they are a∣mong such as resemble themselves, but only among Men of Sense and Wisdom, as Wise-men are never look'd upon to be such by those that are Mad: Men then acknowledge those to be Fools who conceit them∣selves to be turn'd into Cocks and Kings, because all Men of Sense believe that it is not so easie for any Body to become a Cock or a King. But Men in all Ages have thought they might be equal to the Gods. Their Vanity has infus'd this Opinion into 'em as a thing probable enough: They learn't it from their first Parents: For without doubt our first Parents were of that Opinion, when they obey'd the Devil, who tempted 'em with a Promise that they should be like to God, Eritis sicut Dii. The most pure Intelli∣gences endu'd with Celestial Precepts and Clear Un∣derstandings, were so blinded by their own Pride, that they thought they might throw off the Yoak of Divine Authority, and seat themselves upon the Throne of God. So that 'tis no wonder, if Men, who are inferior to Angels in Purity and Understanding, aban∣don themselves to the same Motions of their Vanity which blinds and seduces 'em.

If the Temptation of Grandeur and Independency be the strongest of all, 'tis because it seems to us, as it did to our Forefathers, more comformable to our Reason as well as to our Inclination; for we are not always sensible of our own Weaknesses and Wants that cause us to stand in need of every thing. Had the Serpent menac'd our first Parents by telling 'em, That unless they eat of the Fruit which God had for∣bid 'em to eat, they should be transform'd, the one into a Cock, the other into a Hen, I question whether they would not have derided so foolish a Tempeation; for we should have derided it our selves. But the Devil judging of others by himself, well knew that Ambition and desire of Independency were the P••ind sides against which he was to plant his Batteries.

The Second Reason why we look upon those to be Madmen that believe themselves to be transform'd into Cocks and Kings, and yet have not the same thoughts of those who believe that no Body can hurt 'em, as being above all Pain, is this, because they who are Hypochondraical display their Mistakes visibly to all People, so that every body may be an Eye-wit∣ness of their Error. But when Cato assures us, that they who struck him never hurt him, he asserts it, or may assert it, with so much Confidence and Gravity, that a Man may justly question whether he be really the same as he appears to be: And we may be inclin'd to think, that his Soul is not to be shaken, because his Body seems to be immovable. For the outward Air of the Body is generally a mark of the inward dis∣position of the Mind. So that a daring and undaunt∣ed Lyar perswades us sometimes to believe things incredible; because their talking with so much Confidence, is a Proof that affects the Senses; and therefore a most effectual Argument that strongly con∣vinces the generality of People. Few there are there∣fore, who look upon the Stoicks as Visionaries, or as Audacious Lyars, because we have no sensible Proof of that which lies reserv'd in their Breast, and be∣cause the Air of the Face is a most sensible Proof that easily imposes upon us; besides that our innate Vanity readily induces us to believe, that Man is capable of that Grandeur and Independency to which he pre∣tends.

Hence it is apparent, that those Errors which abound in Seneca's Writings are of all others the most Perni∣cious and Contagious; because they are a sort of De∣licate, Insinuating Errors, proportion'd to the Vanity of Mankind, and like to that wherein the Devil en∣gag'd our first Parents. They are likewise array'd with those Pompous and Magnificent Ornaments, which make way for 'em into most Mens Minds. They enter, take possession, stupifie, and captivate 'em, not with a Blindness that inclines those miserable Mortals to Humility, a sensibleness of their own Ig∣norance, and an acknowledgment of it before others,

but with a Haughty dazling Blindness, and a Blind∣ness accompanied with some false Glimmerings. And when once Men are smitten with this blindness of Pride, they presently rank themselves in the number of fine and great Wits. Others also reckon 'em in the same Order, and admire 'em. So that there is no∣thing that can be thought more Contagious than this Blindness, because the Vanity and Sensuality of Men, the Corruption of their Senses and Passions, dispose them to be known thereby, and puts 'em also upon infecting others with it.

I believe then there is no Author more proper than Seneca, to demonstrate how contagious the Imagination of some Men is, who are call'd fine and great Wits; and what a Command strong and vigorous Imagina∣tions have over Weak and more Illiterate People; not by the strength or evidence of their Arguments, which are the productions of Wit; but by a certain turn and liveliness of Expression, which depends upon the Force of Imagination.

I know well that this Author is highly esteem'd in the World, and that I shall be accus'd of more than ordinary rashness, for having spoken of him, as of a Man that had a Strong Imagination, but little Judg∣ment. But it was chiefly by reason of this Esteem, that I undertook to speak of him; not out of Envy or any Morose Humour, but because his great Repu∣tation will excite many to consider more attentively those Errors of his which I have hinted. We ought, as much as in us lies, to produce famous Examples for the confirmation of things that we assert, when they are of Consequence, and he that Criticizes upon a Book sometimes does it an honour. However it be, if I find fault with any thing in Seneca's Writings, I am not single in that Opinion; For not to speak of some Illustrious Persons in this Age, 'tis about 1600 years ago that a certain Judicious Author observ'd;

1. That there was little Exactness in his Philoso∣phy. 2. Little Judgment or Exactness in his Elocu∣tion.

3. That his Repu∣tation was more grounded upon the Imprudent Heat of Young Men, than con∣firm'd by the consent of the Wise and Learned.

'Tis in vain to Encounter palpable Errors with Pub∣lick Writings, because they are not Contagious. 'Tis ridiculous to admonish Men that Hypochondraical Per∣sons are in some measure mad; they know it well enough: But if they for whom they have a high value, mistake, 'tis necessary to bid 'em have a care of such, for fear lest they adhere to their Errors. Now it is manifest that Seneca's Spirit is a Spirit of Pride and Vanity. Therefore since Pride, according to the Scripture, is the Original of Sin, Initium peccati Su∣perbia, the Spirit of Seneca cannot be the Spirit of the Gospel. Nor can his Morals have any alliance with Christian Morals, which are only true and solid.

'Tis certain, that all Seneca's thoughts are neither false nor dangerous: They who being endu'd with a found Wit, have attain'd the Doctrine of Christian Morals, may read him to good advantage. Great Men have made a profitable use of him; neither is it my intention to blame those, who being willing to comply with the weakness of other Men, who had so high an esteem for him, have drawn Arguments from the Writings of that Author to defend the Morals of Jesus Christ, and to engage the Enemies of the Gospel with their own Weapons.

There are some good things in the Alcoran, and we find some true Prophecies in the Centuries of Nostra Damus. We make use of the Alcoran to con∣found the Religion of the Turks; and the Prophecies of Nestra Damus may be serviceable to convince some Whimsical Persons. But it does not follow, because there is something good in the Alcoran, that the Alco∣ran is to be call'd a good Book; as some true Expla∣nations of Nostra Damus's Centuries will not make Nostra Damus a Right Prophet; and they who make use of these Books to the ends aforesaid, cannot be said to have a real Esteem for 'em.

It would be in vain for any Man to oppose what I have said concerning Seneca, by bringing a great num∣ber of Passages out of that Author conformable to the solid Truths of the Gospel. I agree that there are some such, as there are also in the Alcoran, and in other Impious Books: And they would do me wrong, to overwhelm me with the Authority of an infinite number of People that have made use of Se∣neca; because we may sometimes make use of a Book which we believe to be impertinent, provided they with whom we have to deal, have not the same Opi∣nion of the Author as we have.

To ruine all the Philosophy of the Stoicks there needs but only one thing, sufficiently prov'd by Experience, as also by what we have already said: That we should be bound to our Body, our Parents, our Friends, our Prince, our Country, by those ties that we neither can, and which it would be a shame for us to endea∣vour to break. Our Soul is united to our Body, and by means of our Body to all things visible, by a Hand so powerful, that it is impossible for us to break that Union. 'Tis impossible to prick our Body, but the whole Individuum must be prick'd and hurt: Be∣cause we are in that condition, that this mutual Har∣mony between us and the Body is absolutely necessa∣ry. In like manner it is impossible for us to be at∣tack'd with Injuries and Contumelies, but we must be offended at 'em. For that God, who has made us to maintain Society with other Men, has endu'd us with a Propensity to all that can join us together, which can never be vanquish'd by our selves. 'Tis meerly chimerical to say, that Pain does not hurt us, that Words of Scorn and Contempt do not offend us, because we are above all this. No Mortal Man was ever above Nature, unless by an accession of Grace; and never any Stoic despis'd Honour and the Esteem of Men by the Strength and Constancy of his Mind only.

Men may overcome their Passions by contrary Pos∣sions: They may vanquish Fear or Pain by ••••••ity; that is, they may scorn to fly, or to complain; when

perceiving the Eyes of many People upon 'em, desire of Honour supports 'em, and stops those Corporeal Motions that would induce 'em to fly. This is their Victory, if it may be call'd a Victory; but this is no delivering themselves from Servitude; it may perhaps be said, that they have only chang'd their Master for some time, or rather enlarg'd their Bondage: Such Men are only wise, happy, and free in outward ap∣pearance, but in reality undergo a most severe and cruel Servitude. We may resist our Natural Union with our Body by the help of our Union with Men. We may resist Nature by the Strength of Nature: We may resist God by the Strength that he has given us: But no Man can resist God by the Strength of his own Wit; nor can Nature be overcome but by Grace, because God cannot be overcome, if I may be per∣mitted to say so, without the special Assistance of God.

Thus that Magnificent Division of all things, into those things that have no dependence upon us, and upon which we ought not to depend, seems to be consen∣taneous to Reason, but not conformable to that disor∣derly condition to which Sin has reduc'd us. We are united to all Creatures by the Appointment of God, but we absolutely depend upon 'em through the Dis∣order of Sin. So that since Felicity cannot subsist with Pain and Anxiety, we can never hope to be happy in this Life by imagining with our selves, that we do not depend upon those Things to which we are na∣turally enslav'd. All our Felicity in this Life is grounded upon a Lively Faith, and a Strong Hope, which afford us some sort of Enjoyment of our fu∣ture Bliss by way of Anticipation; and we may live according to the Precepts of Vertue, and vanquish Na∣ture, if supported by that Grace which Jesus Christ has merited for us.

CHAP. V.

Of Montagne's Book.

MOntagne's Essays may serve for another Proof of the Power which some Imaginations have over others. For that Author has a certain Free Air, and gives such a natural and so lively a Turn to his Thoughts, that it is a difficult thing to read him with∣out being entangled in his Snares. The Carelesness which he affects becomes him so well, that it renders him belov'd of all Men, but despis'd of none; and his Haughtiness is the Haughtiness of a worthy Good Man, that procures him all Veneration, but no Ha∣tred. The Genteel and Free Air, supported by some Learning, works so prodigious effects upon Mens Minds, that they often admire him, and surrender to his De∣cisions, without daring to examine him, and some∣times before they understand him. His Reasons ne∣ver convince, because he never produces any, but what are weak and without any solidity: And indeed he has no Principles upon which to ground his Argu∣ments; nor does he observe any Order in drawing his Conclusions from Principles. For a Passage out of some History proves nothing: a short Fable demon∣strates nothing: two Verses out of Horace; an Apo∣thegme out of Cleomenes's or Caesars, are not sufficient to convince any Rational Man: Nevertheless his Es∣says are no more than a Rapsody of Histories, Fables, Sentences, Elegant Words, Disticks, and Apothegms.

'Tis true that Montagne is not to be look'd upon in his Essays as a Man that argues, but only writes to divert himself, he indulges his Genius, and makes it his Business to please, but not to instruct; so that if all his Readers read him only to divertise themselves, his Book would not be so dangerous. But 'tis almost

as impossible not to have that which delights us, as to refram from Meats that please our Taste. The Mind can take no delight in reading an Author without im∣bibing his Sentiments, or at least without receiving some Tincture, which, intermixing with his Idea's, render 'em confus'd and obscure.

'Tis not only dangerous to read Montagne for di∣version sake, because the pleasure Men take in read∣ing him, engages them insensibly in his Opinions, but because that Pleasure is more capital than it is vulgarly thought to be: For certain it is, that Pleasure arising principally from an eager Appetite, does but ferment and fortifie the Passions; and the Style of that Author therefore pleases us, because it actects us and awakens our Passions after an imperceptible manner.

It would be much to the purpose to prove what we have said in particular of Montagne's Essays, and ge∣nerally that the delight we take in all the variety of Styles proceeds only from a secret Corruption of the Heart; but it is not here our design, it would carry us too far from our subject: Nevertheless, if we would but reflect upon the Connexion of the Idea's, and the Passions already mention'd, and upon what passes in our selves, at the same time we read a Piece that is well writ, we shall easily discover our selves to be most delighted with that Author that is most ac∣commodated to our Affections and Dispositions; if we are delighted with a sublime noble and free Style, it is because Vanity aspires to Rule and Empire; if with a Soft and Effeminate Style, 'tis because we are prone to Softness and Pleasure. In a word, 'tis a certain Perception of Sensible Things, and not from any Perception of Truth, that we are even in spight of our Wills cherish'd and affected with certain Authors.

But to return to Montagne, I am of Opinion his chiefest Votaries give this reason for their admiring him, because he is an Author judicious and free from Pedantry, and for that after a diligent Scrutiny he in a wonderful manner detected the Nature and In∣fitmities of Mans Reason. If I then make it out that Montagne as much a Gentleman as he was, yet for

all that, was as much a Pedant as many others, and that he had a very mean knowledge of Human Reason, certainly I shall then make it evident that his Ad∣mirers were not compell'd into an Admiration of him by Convincing Reasons, but by the Strength of that Authors Imagination.

The Word Pedant is very Equivocal, but in my Opinion Custom and Reason require that we should call those Pedants, who to make a fair shew of their false Learning, quote at random all sorts of Authors; who, to gain a Popular Applause, talk only for talk∣ing's sake, and to make themselves admir'd by Fools; who rake together without Judgment or Discretion Apothegms and Passages of History, to prove, or make a shew of proving Things that cannot be prov'd but by Reasons.

Pedants are oppos'd to Men that make use of their Reason, and that which renders 'em odious to Men of Worth and Sense is this, that Pedants are Enemies to Reason. For Men of true Ingenuity love naturally sound Arguments, nor can they endure the Conversa∣tion of Men that will not admit of the use of Reason. Now those Persons whom we have describ'd can never argue truly, because their Brains are very shallow, and stuff'd with false Learning besides. Nor will they argue, because they find that some Men admire 'em more when they cite any unknown Author, or any Sentence of an ancient Writer, than when they pretend to Reasoning: So that their Vanity Congra∣tulating it self for the Veneration that is paid 'em, causes 'em to apply themselves to the Study of all those Obsolete and unusual Sciences, that procure the gaping astonishment of the Vulgar.

Pedants then are Vain and Arrogant, Men of great Memories, but of little Judgment, quick and abound∣ing in Quotations, unfortunate and weak in their Ar∣guments; endu'd with a vigorous and spacious Ima∣gination, but volatile, irregular, and no ways able to contain it self within the bounds of Exactness.

After all this, it will be no difficult thing to prove, that Montagne was as much a Pedant as several others,

according to the Notion of the Word Pedant, which seems most conformable to Reason and Custom. I speak not here of Gown'd Pedants, or Schoolmasters; 'tis not the Gown that makes a Pedant. Montagne, who had such an aversion for Pedantry, might never wear a long Gown, but he could not so easily discharge himself of his peculiar Vices. He has labour'd to acquire a Gen∣teel Air, but he never studied how to be Master of a Just Mind, or at least his Studies prov'd ineffectual: And therefore he adorn'd his Wit with a sort of Learn∣ing that did not taste of the School, but was empty, vain, and trivial; while he neglected to cultivate his Reason, to corroborate his Judgment, and acquire to himself the Vertues of a Worthy Man.

Montagne's Book is stuff'd with so many Proofs of the Pride and Vanity of the Author, that it would be a needless thing perhaps to spend time in the par∣ticular enumeration of 'em. For he must be a Man extreamly conceited to believe, that People would read such a large Book on purpose to understand the Ge∣nius and Humour of the Author. Certainly he must think himself separated from the Vulgar, and look upon himself as some extraordinary Person. All Men are essentially oblig'd to turn the Mind of those that are prone to reverence 'em, towards him who alone deserves to be ador'd: And Religion teaches, that the Mind and Heart of Man, which were only made for God, should never be taken up with our selves, nor step at self-admiration and self-love. When St. John fell prostrate at the Feet of the Angel of God, the Angel bid him rise, I am thy Fellow-servant, said he, and of thy Brethren, worship God. Only the Devils, and those that partake of their Impious Pride, aspire to Adoration. But to exact, that other Men should employ themselves in meditating upon our Affections and Cogitations, What is this but to seek after not only an External, but an Internal and Real Adorati∣on? and ardently to desire the same Worship which God requires to be paid to himself in Spirit and Truth?

Montagne wrote his Essays, to no other end but to paint forth his own Humours and Inclinations; he himself confesses as much in his Advertisement to the Reader inserted in all the Editions, 'Tis my self that I paint forth, 'tis I that am the Subject of my own Book. And this is apparent enough to them that read it. For there are very few Chapters wherein he does not make some Digression or other to speak of him∣self. And there are some whole Chapters which he consumes in talking of no body else but himself. Wherefore, though he compos'd his Book to make the Portraiture of himself, yet he publish'd it for others to read. 'Twas therefore his design to turn the Gaz∣ing Eyes and Attentions of all Men upon himself, though he says, he knew not any reason he had to imploy his Leisure upon a Subject so vain and frivolous. Thus his own words condemn him. For if he thought there was no reason why Men should employ them∣selves in reading his Book, certainly he acted against Common Sense in causing his Essays to be publish'd: Whence we are oblig'd to believe, that either he spoke one thing and thought another, or that he did amiss to Print his Book.

'Tis also a very pleasant Excuse of his Vanity, to say, that he had never written but for the sake of his Friends and Relations: For if that were true, where∣fore did he suffer three Impressions? Would not one have been enough for his Friends and Relation? How came it to pass that he enlarg'd his Book in the last Impressions, and never expung'd any thing out of it, unless it were because Fortune favour'd his Intentions: I add, says he, but I never correct, for he that has once mortgag'd his Work to the Publick, in my Opinion, has no farther right to it. Let him say better if he can in ano∣ther Book. But let him not corrupt the work that he has sold. At this rate nothing is to be purchas'd from such Men till after they are dead. Let Men consider well before they appear in publick: Who bids 'em make such haste? My Book is always one and the same. And therefore he mortgag'd and publish'd his Book as well to pleasure other Men, as his Relations and Friends. But though

he had endeavour'd to oblige his Friends and Rela∣tions only, and to have turn'd their Minds and Hearts upon his Picture made by himself, all the time that was to be spent in reading his Book, certainly his Va∣nity was ne're the more to be excus'd.

If it be a fault for a Man to speak often of him∣self, certainly 'tis a piece of Impudence, or rather a kind of Madness for a Man to be always making Panegyries upon himself as Montagne does; for it is not only a Sin against Christian Humility, but against Right Reason.

Men were made to live together, and to form Ci∣vil Bodies and Societies; but it is to be observ'd, that the Private Members which compose those Societies, would not take it well to be accounted the meanest Member of the Body which they constitute. No wonder then if those Men, that praise and extol them∣selves above others, looking upon the rest as the meanest Members of the Society, and considering themselves the chiefest and most Honourable, incur the Hatred of all Men, instead of procuring their Love and Esteem.

Therefore 'tis a Vanity, an Indiscreet and Ridicu∣lous Vanity for Montagne continually to speak in Praise of himself; and it is a Vanity still more ex∣travagant in the same Author to describe his own Faults: For, if you observe it, you shall find, that he only discovers those Vices, which through the Cor∣ruption of the Age Men pride themselves in being guilty of; that he willingly ascribes to himself those that he thinks will procure him the Honour of a good Wit, and the Air of a Gentleman. And all this, that by a seeming ingenuous Confession of his Vices, he may gain the more easie Belief when he flies out into his own Praises. And therefore he might justly say, That Self-Praise and Self-Scorn arose from the same Air of Arrogance. This is always a cer∣tain Sign that a Man is puff'd up with a high Conceit of himself; and, in my Opinion, Montagne seems more Haughty and Vain when he displays his Vices, than when he cries up his Vertues; for who would

bear with such an unsanctified Pride, that glories in those Vices which should rather be an occasion of Humility. I should less impatiently brook a Man who is asham'd to confess his faults, than another who is not afraid to make open proclamation of 'em. And, in my Opinion, there is no Man but ought to have a just dildain of that over free and unchri∣stian-like way wherein Montagne displays his Vices. But let us examine the other Qualities of his Mind.

If we may believe Montagne upon his own Word; a little thing will persuade as, that he was a Man of no Retention, that his Memory was capable of nothing, unfaithful and creacherous, but that he wanted neither Sense nor Judgment. Nevertheless, if we may be∣lieve the Portraiture of his own Wit, I mean, his own Book, we must be of another Opinion. I can∣not receive a Command, says he, without my Pocket-Book, or if I have any Discourse to remember, if it be very long, I am reduc'd to that miserable necessity to learn by Heart, Verbatim, what I have to say; otherwise both behaviour and assurance would fail me, as being afraid lest my Memory shou'd fail me. A Man that can get by Heart a long Discourse, Word for Word, and to a tittle, that he may the better be enabled to compose his outward Gesture, and for the em∣boldning his Delivery, does he seem to want rather Memory than Judgment? Or may a Man believe Mentagne when he says this of himself? I am forc'd to call my Servants by the Names of their Employments, or of the Countreys where they were born; for I can hardly remember their Proper Names; and if I should live long, I question whether I should remember my own Name. Can a Lord of a small Village have such a Croud of Servants, that he cannot remember their Names, and yet get by Heart a long Oration? A Man, who was born and bred in the Country among Pea∣sants and Hinds, who has his Head and Hands full of Family Cares and Business, and who confesses, that 'tis his Opinion, that we ought not to neglect these things which lie under our Feet, whatever we have in our Hands nor what is of most concernment to us for the Necessities of

Life; Can he, I say, forget the Names of his Do∣mestick Servants? Can he be ignorant (as he says him∣self) of the greatest part of the Coyns; of the difference of one Grain from another, either growing, or in the Barn, unless they be such as he sees every day, or such things as every Child knows, as the use of Leaven in making Bread, or why People Tun up their Wine, and yet have a Memory stuff'd with the Names and Principles of the Ancient Philosophers, the Idea's of Plato, Epicu∣rus's Atomes, Leucippus and Democratus's Vacuum, Thales's Water, Anaxiamander's Infinite Nature, Dio∣genes's Air, Pythagoras's Numbers and Symmetry, Par∣menides's Infinity, Musclus's Ʋnit, Apollodorus's Water and Fire, Anaxagoras's Similar Parts, Empedocles's Sympathy and Antipathy, Heraclitus's Fire, &c. Can a Man that within the space of three or four Pages cites above Fifty Names of several Authors, with their different Opinions, who has fill'd his whole Work with Fragments of Histories, and indigested Apo∣thegms, who says, that History and Poetry are his Di∣version in Books; who contradicts himself every mo∣ment, and in the same Chapter, even in things which he pretends to have the most certain knowledge of, as the Endowments of his Mind and Affections; Is it for such a Man, I say, to boast a Judgment superior to his Memory?

Let us confess then, that Montagne excell'd in For∣getfulness; since he assures us, that he wishes we had the same Opinion of him, more especially since it is no way repugnant to Truth. But we are unwilling to believe him upon his Word, or by the Applauses which he bestows upon himself, that he was a Man of Great Judgment, and extraordinary Sagacity of Mind. For being led by such a prejudic'd Opinion, we might too easily assent to those false and dange∣rous Opinions which he obtrudes upon the World with an Impious Confidence and Boldness, which only stupifies and dazles weak Minds.

Another thing for which Montagne is in the second place so highly commended, is, that he had a perfect knowledge of the Mind of Man, that he penetrated

into the most hidden Recesses of it, the Nature and Properties, the Strength and Weakness of it; and in a Word, that knew all that could be known of it. Let us now see whether he merits these Elogies, and whence it comes to pass that they are so liberally be∣stow'd upon him.

They who have read Montagne, well know that he affected to be thought a Pyrrhonian, and that he took a pride in doubting of every thing. The Belief of Certainty, says he, is a Certain Testimony of Extream Folly and Ʋncertainty; nor are there any greater Fools, or less Philosophers, than the Philodoxes of Plato. On the other side, he bestows such large Encomiums up∣on the Pryhonians in the same Chapter, that 'tis im∣possible to question but that he was one of the same Sect. 'Twas necessary in his time for one that would be accounted an able and accomplish'd Man, to doubt of every thing: And the Title of a great Wit, of which he was ambitious, engag'd him farther in those his Opinions. Supposing him therefore to be an Aca∣demic also, we might, at once, convince him to be one of the most ignorant among Men; not only in what concerns the Nature of the Mind, but in every thing else. For since there is an Essential Difference between Knowing and Doubting, if the Academics speak what they think, when they assure us they know nothing, we may justly say they are the most ignorant of all Men.

Nor are they only the most ignorant of all Men, but they are also the most obstinate Assertors of the most Irrational Opinions: For they not only reject whatever is most certain, and most universally re∣ceived, that they may be accounted great Wits; but by the same violence of the Imagination, they please themselves with talking after a decisive manner of the most uncertain and improbable things. Montagne ap∣parently labours under this Distemper; and therefore of necessity we must conclude, that he was not only ignorant of the Nature of Mans Mind, but also that he was intangled in many gross Errors in reference to that Subject, granting that he spoke what he thought, as it became him to do.

For what may we say of a Man, who confounds Mind and Matter together, who recites the most ex∣travagant Opinions of the Philosophers upon the an∣ture of the Soul yet so far from condemning 'em, that he rather approves 'em, though most repugnant to Reason; who sees not the Necessity of the Immorta∣lity of our Souls; who believes that Human Reason is not capable of understanding it; and looks upon all the Prooss that are brought to confirm it, as so many 'Dreams which the desire of Immortality pro∣duces in us. Somnia non decentis, sed optantis; who is angry with Men; because they separate themselves from the Croud of other Creatures, and distinguish them∣selves from Beasts, which he calls, our Fellow Brethren, and our Companions; and which, as he believes, dis∣course together, understand one another, and laugh at us, as we speak, understand each other, and de∣ride them; who believes there is a greater difference between a Man and a Man, than between a Man and a Beast; and who attributes even to Spiders, Delibe∣ration, Thought, and Conclusion; and who after he has asserted that the Frame of Mans Body has no advan∣tage over that of Beasts, willingly embraces the fol∣lowing Sentiment, That it is not Reason, nor Ratioci∣nation, nor the Soul, that renders M••n more Excellent than Beasts, but our Beauty, our Complexion, and the Structure of our Limbs; above which Prerogatives we ought not to prefer our Ʋnderstanding, our Prudence, and other Vertues, &c. Can a Man, who relying upon these Whimsical Opinions, conclude, That 'tis not for his Ratiocination, but his Pride and Obstinacy that Man Extolls himself above Beasts: Can such a Man, I say have an exact knowledge of the Mind of Man, or is it to be thought that he can persuade others he has it?

But we must do Justice to all the World, and give a faithful Character of Montegne's Parts. He had a bad Memory, and a worse Judgment, 'tis true, but those two Qualities together do not compose that which usually the World calls the Beauty of the Mind. 'Tis the Elegancy, the Vivacity, the Extenti∣on of the Imagination, that procures a Man the Re∣putation

of being a good Wit. The Common sort of People admire that which glitters, not that which is solid, because they have a greater value for that which affects their Senses, than for that which informs their Reason. And therefore mistaking Elegancy of Imagination for Elegancy of Wit, it may be said that Montagne had an Elegant and Extraordinary Wit. His Idea's are false, but splendid; his Expressions ir∣regular or bold, but pleasant; his Discourses ill sup∣ported by Reason, but well imagin'd. There is throughout his Book a Character of an Original which pleases infinitely: Though he be an Usurper of others Mens Draughts, it may be said that his Bold and Strong Imagination gives the Turn of an Origi∣nal to every thing he Copies. Lastly, he has all those things ready at hand, which are necessary to please and allure; nor have I obscurely demonstrated, as I am apt to believe, that he has acquir'd Admiration among so many Men, not by convincing their Reason by Evident Arguments, but by subduing their Minds by the Commanding and Victorious power of his Ima∣gination.

CHAP. VI.

I. Of Imaginary Wizards, and Lycanthropi or Wolf-Men.

II. A Conclusion of the Two First Books.

THere is nothing wherein the force of the Imagi∣nation more prodigiously shews it self, than in the hideous number of Goblines, Apparitions, Witch∣crafts, Characters, Inchantments, Charms, and gene∣rally of all those things which are thought to depend upon the Power of the Devil.

There is nothing more terrible, or formidable to the Mind, or which produces in the Brain deeper Traces, than the Idea of an Invisible Power, which we are not able to resist, and which meditates nothing

but to do us Mischief: All Discourses which revive that Idea are listen'd to with Fear and Curiosity. Men adhering to every thing that is extraordinary, take a Phantastic delight to tell surprizing and prodigious Stories of the Power and Malice of Wizards, as well to frighten others, as to terrifie themselves. So that 'tis no wonder that Wizards are so common in some Countreys, where the Belief of those Nocturnal Meetings of Wizards called Sabbaths, has too much prevail'd; where all the most extravagant Tales of Witchcrafts are heard as so many Authentic Histories, and where real Madmen and Visionaries, whose Ima∣gination was at first disordered as well by the rehear∣sal of such Tales, as by the Corruption of their own Hearts, are burnt for Wizards. I know that many People will blame me for attributing the greatest part of Witchcrafts to the force of Imagination, because there are some Men who delight in terrifying things, and are angry with those that go about to disabuse 'em; and who are like those that are sick through the power of Imagination, who listen most awfully to their Physicians, that foretell some dismal thing that is to befall 'em, and obey their Prescripti∣ons exactly. Superstition is not easily destroy'd, and when ever it is attacqued, it finds a great number of Champions; and this same proneness to believe all the Dotages of Daemonographers, is produc'd and cherish'd by the same cause that renders the Supersti∣tious obstinate, as may be easily prov'd. However it will not be amiss to set down in few Words, how, in my Judgment, such Opinions as these came to get footing in the World.

A Shepherd in his Cottage, after Supper, tells his Wife and Children what was done at the Convention of Wizards called the Sabbat. Now when his Ima∣gination comes to be heated by the Vapours of the Wine, and that he begins to believe himself to have been present at that Imaginary As∣sembly, he fails not to speak of it after a strong and vigorous manner. His Natural Eloquence, together with the Proneness of his Family to give Ear to so

new and terrible a Story, could not but produce strange Traces in their weak Imaginations: Nor is it otherwise naturally possible, that a Woman and little Children being frighten'd, should be able to penetrate and resist what they hear him say. 'Tis a Husband, 'tis a Father that talks of what he has seen, of what he has done; he is beloved and respected; why should they not believe him? The Shepherd also re∣peats his Story several days one after another. The Imagination of the Mother and the Children, admit by degrees much deeper traces of it: they are ac∣customed to it; the fear vanishes, but the conviction remains; and by and by their Curiosity will not be at quiet till they go and anoint themselves; they lay themselves in their Beds in such a posture, and the same disposition of their Mind, still heats their Ima∣gination more and more; the traces which the Shep∣herd has form'd in their Brain, are so very much open'd, as to cause 'em in their Sleep to see as present all the Motions of the Ceremony, the description of which they had heard. They rise, ask one another, and tell each other what they have seen; by this means they confirm the traces of their Vision; and they that have the strongest Imagination more easily perswading the rest, they fail not in a few Nights to make a formal Story of this Imaginary Nocturnal Convention. Thus has the Shepherd made compleat Wizards; and they in a short time will make a great many others, if being endu'd with a strong and vigo∣rous Imagination, fear does not hinder them from relling such like Stories.

There have been sometimes Wizards in good ear∣nest, that is, such as thought themselves really so, and believed they went to Nocturnal Conventions; and who were so convinc'd of it, that though several Per∣sons wak'd them, and assur'd them that they never stirr'd out of their Beds, they would not believe their Testimony.

All the world knows, that stories of Hobgoblins being told to Children, affright 'em to that degree, that they will not be alone in the dark or without

Company. Because, when the Brain admits no Tra∣ces of any present Object, that which was imprinted in their Brain by the help of the story, opens it self afresh, and many times vehemently enough, to repre∣sent before their Eyes the Apparitions they were told of; nevertheless these stories are not told 'em other∣wise then as Fables. They that tell 'em, do not re∣late them with the same Air, as if they were convinc'd of the Truth of them, and many times the Relation it self is cold and languishing. No wonder then, that a Man who believes he has been at a Nocturnal Con∣vention, and by consequence talks with a stedfast and confident utterance, easily perswades some Persons, that hear him with a kind of respect, of all the Circum∣stances which he particularizes, and transmits traces into their Imagination like to those by which he him∣self was received.

When Men discourse with us, they imprint traces in our Brains like to those which they have themselves. If they are deep, then they talk to us after such a manner, as impresses 'em deep: for they cannot talk to us, but they must make us in some measure like themselves. Infants in the Mothers Womb see nothing but what the Mother sees; and when they come in∣to the World, they imagine very few things, of which their Parents are not the cause; since the wisest of Men, are govern'd rather by the Imagination of others, that is, by Opinion and Custom, than by the Rules of Reason. Therefore in places where Wizards are burnt, there we find a great number of them, be∣cause in the places where they are condemn'd to the Fire, 'tis really believed that they are Wizards, and that Opinion is more and more confirm'd by the va∣rious discourses concerning them. Let 'em but cease to punish them, and deal with 'em as Mad Folks, and you shall see that in a little time there will be no Wizards; because they who are only so by the force of Imagination, and who are doubtless the Greatest Number, would return from their Errors.

Most certainly real Wizards deserve death: and they who are only so through the power of Imagina∣tion

ought not to be reputed altogether Innocent, for they usually believe themselves to be Witches because they find in themselves a disposition to frequent No∣cturnal Conventions, and for that reason anoint them∣selves with certain Drugs, in order to accomplish their wicked design, But while we punish without distinction all these Criminals, the Vulgar Opinion is confirm'd, Wizards multiply through the strength of Imagination, and thus an Infinite number of People are lost and condem'd to Eternal Damnation: Which is the reason that several Parliaments never punishing Wizards, there are fewer or hardly any to be found in places under their Jurisdiction, where the Envy, Hatred, and Malice of wicked People cannot make use of that pretence to destroy the Innocent.

The apprehension of Lycanthropi, or Men who sup∣pose themselves chang'd into Wolves, is a Chimera no less Ridiculous. A Man, through an Irregular effort of his Imagination falls into such a Phrenzie, that he believes himself transform'd into a Wolf every Night. This disorder of his Mind disposes him to all the Actions that are natural to Wolves, or whatever he has heard reported of them. Away he goes then, out of his House at Midnight, runs about the Streets, falls upon the next Child he meets, bites him and handles him very rudely: Also stupid and superstiti∣ous People believe this Madman to be a real Wolf; because the Poor unfortunate Fellow believes it him∣self; and for that he told it in private to some Persons that told it again.

Were it casie to form in the Brain those Traces that perswade Men they are chang'd into Wolves; or were it as easie to run about the Streets, and commit the Ravages which these Miserable Wolf-Men commit without being absolutely Mad, as it is to go in a Dream to a Nocturnal Convention, these stories of Men transform'd into Wolves, would not fail to pro∣duce the same effects as the Tales of Nocturnal Con∣ventions, and we should have as many Wolf-men as Wizards. But the belief of being transform'd into a Wolf supposes a great disorder of the Brain, which is

more difficult to be produc'd, then the Delirium of a Man that only believes his going in the Night to a Nocturnal Convention; that is, who believes he sees in the Night-time things that are not, and who when he wakes, cannot distinguish his Dreams from his Thoughts in the day time.

'Tis a usual thing for some People to Dream such lively Dreams in the Night time, as to remember 'em exactly when they wake, though the Dream in it self be not very terrible: therefore 'tis no difficult thing for some Men to perswade themselves that they were at a Nocturnal Convention; for 'tis sufficient to that end, that the Brain preserve the Traces that were made in it by the Dream it self.

The chief thing that hinders us from taking Dreams for Realties is, because we cannot unite our Dreams to those things which we did when we were awake; for thereby we find they were only Dreams. Now Imaginary Wizards cannot judge from thence whe∣ther their Nocturnal Convention were nothing but a meer Dream. For they never go to their Conven∣tion but in the Night, and what passes in the Assem∣bly cannot be united to their other Actions in the day time: So that 'tis Morally impossible that way to undeceive 'em. Nor is it necessary, that what Imaginary Wizards think they see in their Nocturnal Assemblies should be united together in any Natural Order: for the more confused and Extravagant they are, so much the more real they appear to be. 'Tis therefore sufficient that the Idea's of things done in the Assembly should be Lively and Terrible; which will of necessity happen, because that always unu∣sual news, and extraordinary things, are there believed to be performed.

But it requires so great a disturbance of the Ima∣gination for a Man to believe himself to be tranform'd into a Cock, a Goat, a Wolf, or an Ox, that it can∣not happen but very rarely; though these great dis∣orders of the Brain do sometimes fall out, either as a Punishment inflicted from Heaven, as the Scripture relates of Nebuchadnezzar, or through a Natural

transport of Melancholly in the Brain; of which we find several Examples among Physical Writers.

Although I am perswaded that real Wizards are very rare, that these Nocturnal Conventions are meer Dreams, and that the Parliaments who dismiss those accusations of Witchcraft, are the most just and Equitable: Nevertheless, I doubt not but that there are any Wizards Charms, Inchantments, &c. or that the Devil does sometimes thus exercise his Malice up∣on Men by a particular permission of God, For the Scripture teaches us that the Kingdom of Satan is de∣stroyed; that the Angel of God has thrown the De∣vil bound in Chains into the deep Abyss, from whence he shall not be released till the end of the World: that Jesus Christ has despoil'd him of his Weapons, and that the time shall come, when the Prince of the World shall be Expell'd out of the World.

He had Reign'd indeed till the coming of our Sa∣viour, and he still Reigns in such places where our Saviour is not known: but he has no longer any Right or any Power over those that are regenerated in Christ. He cannot tempt them but by the per∣mission of God; or if God gives him leave, 'tis be∣cause they are able to vanquish him: Therefore they too much honour the Devil, who relate Stories as Arguments of his Power, as some of our Modern Demonographers do; since such kind of stories render him formidable to weak People.

Devils are to be despised, as we despise Hangmen. For we ought to tremble only before God. His Power only is to be fear'd. We ought to be afraid of his Judgments and Wrath, and not provoke him by the Contempt of his Laws and Gospel. He de∣serves our Attention when he speaks, or when Men speaks to us concerning him. But when Men speak to us concerning the Power of the Devil, 'tis a ridi∣culous thing to be troubled and dismay'd: Our Ter∣ror is an Honour to him: He loves to be respected and fear'd, and his Pride is satisfy'd, when we hum∣ble our selves before him.

'Tis now time to conclude this Second Book, and only to observe from what has been said in this and the preceding. 1. That all our thoughts which the Mind has by means of the Body, or by depen∣dance upon the Body, are only for the use of the Body it self. 2. That they are all false and Obscure. 3. That they serve to no other use then to unite us to sensible Good, and to all things that can procure 'em for us; and that this Union leads us into infinite Errors, and very great Miseries. Though we are not always sensible or them, no more then we know the Errors from whence they arise, Of this we shall give the following remarkable Example.

Our Union with our Mothers in the Womb, which is far more strict then any we can have with Men, is the cause of our greatest Mischiefs; that is to say, of Sin and Concupiscence, which are the Original of all our Miseries. Nevertheless, there was a Necessity that this Union should be so strict as it is to compose the structure of Bodies.

This Union which was broken by our Birth is suc∣ceeded by another, whereby Children are joyn'd to their Parents and Nurses. This Union is less strict than the first, and therefore does less mischief. It only enclined us to believe and imitate our Parents and Nurses in all things. 'Tis visible also, that this Second Union was necessary for us, not as the first for the Forming but the Preservation of the Body; to the end we might understand all things that conduce to the Benefit of it, and to dispose the Body to those Motions which are necessary for the procuring those Things.

Lastly, The Union which we have at present with all Men does us a great deal of Mischief, though it be not so strict, as being less necessary for the Preser∣vation of the Body. For by reason of this Union it is, that we live by Opinion, that we love and esteem what other Men love and value, though contrary to our Consciences, and the true Idea's which we have of things. I speak not here of that Union which conjoyns us with the Minds of other Men; for that

Union may prove serviceable for our Instruction: I speak of the Sensible Union between the Imagination, and the Air and Manner of those with whom we con∣verse. Thus it is plain, that all our thoughts that we, have by way of dependency upon the Body, are false, and so much the more pernitious to the Mind, as they are more useful to the Body.

Let us therefore endeavour by degrees to free our selves from the Delusions of our Senses from the Vi∣sions of our Imagination, and the Impression which the Imagination of other Men makes upon our Minds. Let us carefully reject all these confused Idea's, which we have drawn from that Servitude wherein our Body detains us; and let us only admit the clear and manifest Ideas which the Mind receives from that Union which it necessarily has with the WORD, or WISDOM and ETERNAL TRƲTH; as we shall ex∣plain in the following Book, which treats of the Un∣derstanding, or Pure Mind.

Notes

• Two Princi∣pal Causes that in∣crease our Inclination to imitate one another.
• What a Strong Imagina∣tion is.
• Two sorts of it.
• Two consi∣derable De∣fects in those who have a Strong Ima∣gination.
• That they who have a st••ong Ima∣gination castly per∣suade others.
• In Moral Works; How to di∣stinguish a Flatterer from a Friend.
• Diodorus Siculus Bi∣blioth. Hist, l. 3.
• Multos etiam vidi, post quam bene aestuassent ut eum assequerentur nihil praeter sudorem, & inanem animi satigationem lucrat••s, ab ejus lectione discessisse. Sic qui Scotinos haberi videri∣que, dignus qui hoc cogno∣mentum haberet, voluit, adeo quod voluit a semetipso impetravit, & efficere id quod optabat valuit, ut li∣quido jurare ausim, nimi∣nem ad hoc tumpu•• extitisse qui possit jurare hunc libel∣lum a capite ad calcem us∣que totum a se non minus bene intellectum quam le∣ctum. Salm. in Epist. ded. Comm. in Textum.
• Itaque non refert, quam multa in illum tela conii∣ciantur, cum sit nulli pene∣trabilis. Quomodo quorum∣dam lapidum inexpugnabi∣lis ferro duritia est, nec se∣cari adamas, aut caedi vel teri potest, sed incurrentiae ultro retundit: quemadmo∣dum projecti in altum s••••pu∣li mare frangunt, nec ipsi ulla saevitiae vestigia tot ver∣berati saeculis ostentant. I•••• sapientis animus solidus est, & id roboris collegit, ut tam tutus sit ab injuria quam illa quae extuli. Sen. c. 5. Tract Quod in sapientem, &c.
• Adsum hoc vobis proba∣turus: sub isto tot civita∣tum eversore munimenta in∣cursu arietis labefieri, & turrium altitudinem cuni∣culis ac latentibus fossis re∣pente residere, & aequaturum editissimas arces aggerem crescere. At nulla machi∣namenta posse reperiri quae bene fundatum animum agi∣tent. And a little lower, Non Babylonis muros ill•• contule∣ris, quos Alexander i•••••• ••••it; non Cartaginis, aut Numan∣tiae moenia una manu capta; non Capitolium arcemve: habent ista hostile vestigium. Chap. 6.
• Quid tu putas cum stoli∣dus ille Rex multitudine te∣lorum diem obscurasset, ul∣lam sagittom in solem inci∣disse. Ʋt caelestia humanas manus effugiunt, & ab his qui templa diruunt, aut si∣mulachra conflant, nihil di∣vinitati nocetur, ita quid∣quid fit in sapientem proter∣vé, petulanter, superbé, fru∣stra tentatur, chap. 4. Inter fragorem templorum super Deos suos cadentium uni homini pax fuit. chap. 5.
• Non est ut dicas ita ut so∣les, hunc sapientem nostrum nusquam inveniri. Non fin∣gimus istum humani ingeni•• vanum decus, nec ingentem imaginem rei falsae concipi∣mus: sed qualem confirma∣mus, exhibuimus, & exhi∣bebimus. Caeterum hic ipse M. Cato vereor ne supra no∣strum exemplar sit. ch. 7.
• Videor mihi intueri ani∣mum tuum incensum, & ef∣fervescentem: paras accla∣mare. Haec sunt, quae aucto∣ritatem praeceptis vestris de∣trahant. Magna promitti∣tis, & quae ne optari qui∣dem, ne dùm credi possunt. And a little lower, Ita sub∣lato altè supercilio in eadem, quaecaeteri, descendetis, mu∣tatis rerum nominibus; tale itaque aliquid & in hoc esse suspicor, quod prima spe∣cie pulchrum atque magnifi∣cum est, nec injuriam, nec contumeliam accepturum esse sapientem. And a little lower, Ego vero sapientem non imaginario honore ver∣borum exornare constitui, sed eo loco ponere, quò nulla per∣veniat injuria.
• Validius debet esse quod laedit, eo quod laeditur. Non est autem fortior nequitia virtute. Non potest ergo lae∣di sapiens. Injuria, in bonos non tentatur nisi à malis, bo∣nis inter se pax est. Quod si laedi nisi infirmior non po∣test, malus autem bono in∣firmior est, nec injuria bonis nisi à dispari verenda est; injuria in sapientem virum non cadit, chap. 7.
• Epicurius ait injurias tolerabiles esse sapten∣ti, nos in∣jurias non esse, c. 15.
• Sapieutia huj••s mun∣di est stulti∣tia coram Deo. Q••d homimbus altum est, abominatio est ante Deum. Luc. 16.
• 1. In Philosophia parum diligens. 2. Velles eum dixis∣se suo ingenio, alieno judi∣cio. 3. Si aliqua Contemp∣sisset, &c. consensu potius Eruditorum, quam puero∣rum amore comprobaretur. Quintil. l. 10. c. 1.
• Apoc. 19.10. Conser∣vus tuus sum, adora deum.
• L. 3. c. 13.
• L. 2. c. 1••
• L. 1 c. 24.
• L. 2. c. 17.
• L. 12. c. 17.
• L. 12. c. 17.
• L. 2. c. 12.
• L. 1. c. 25.
• L. 1. c. 12.
• ••. 2. c. 12.