A discourse of the knowledg of beasts,: wherein all that hath been said for, and against their ratiocination, is examined. / By Monsieur de la Chambre, counsellor to the King of France in his counsels, and his physitian in ordinary. Translated into English by a person of quality.

A DISCOURSE OF THE KNOWLEDG OF BEASTS, WHEREIN All that hath been said for, and against their RATIOCINATION, is Examined.

By Monsieur de la CHAMBRE, Counsellor to the King of France in his Counsels, and his Physitian in ordinary.

Translated into English by a Person of Quality.

LONDON ••rinted by Tho. Newcomb for Humphrey Mosele at the Princes Arms in St. Pauls Church-Yard. 1657.

To the READER.

THis Discourse is it self an Apo∣logy, and needs no other. It witnesseth the Author suffici∣ently learned to vindicate himself from the extravagan∣cy of those who may think him guilty; nei∣ther do I doubt but those who read him with judgement, will rather submit then contest those Truths, which he advanceth, and can∣not but yeeld even to the probability of his Paradoxes; for he treats of all, like the Coun∣sellor and Doctor of a King (whereto his great deserts have raised him) or rather like a King amongst Philosophers, in a word like himself. He divides the orders of Nature; he counsels and instructs men, and makes even Beasts Reason. Look but upon his grand De∣sign and he appears more eminent then any of our modern Philosophers. I mean that Art of his, To know Men, which he hath long since promised the world; In the first Part whereof he hath designed the characters of the Passions (of which two excellent Books are extant) of Vertues and of Vices; And in the second Part he intends a discovery of the nature of Animals, and from the resemblance

betwixt Men and Beasts to teach us, that those whose parts are like theirs, have the same inclinations. Amongst his Preliminaries he hath brought to light a Discourse of the Knowledge of Beasts, which although it had the general approbation of the most learned, yet having met with the opposition of a bold Adversary, our Author thought himself obli∣ged to vindicate by this discourse of his, which contains the sum of that, and by which he refutes all the cavils and objections of his An∣tagonist. So that if any man after the perusal thereof be startled or offended, that he hath granted Reason to Beasts, give me leave to beleeve it must be either out of ignorance or pride. That it destroys the immortality of the soul, and the essential difference of man, is what they object. I know how dangerous it is to speak physically of the nature of Souls; neither am I ignorant of the opinion of the Galenists, nor of the heresie of the Manichees; yet I know also that many great men have endeavored by the light of Nature to prove the Soul of man immortal. Neither hath any of them a more peculiar Argument then our Author who from the immateriality of the not simply but intellectually reasonable soul, concludes that naturally having no principles of corruption, it must necessarily be immor∣tal.

So far is he from shaking, that he strong∣ly confirms that immortal principle. As for those who apprehend the loss of that essen∣tial difference which they pretend betwixt themselves and Beasts, let them examine the matter, and the difference will appear, but still the more manifest. The reason he allows them is limited to corporeal objects, to the necessities of life, food and shelter; its only direct; Its capable only of singulars, its re∣strained to an opinative faculty; its a meer shadow of ours, much like that of our phan∣tasie when we sleep. So that they will have all the reason in the world to believe, that this opinion raiseth the Reason of Man to make the difference really essential to an In∣tellectual Faculty which tends to the nature of divine things, and declares the soul poten∣tially to be a Spirit; so that what we call In∣telligence in Angels, we may justly call In∣tellectual Reason in men; which as it is in∣ferior to that, so it is superior to that of Beasts which is sensual and corporeal, whilst his is al∣together spiritual. These two main objecti∣ons being answered, it remains onely, that we should by authority vindicate it from novelty. Tiresias, Melampus, and Apollonius are said to have understood their very language. Plato tells us that in the golden age men reaped all

their knowledge from communication with them. And although the Scripture tell us of some Beasts that have no understanding, yet it sends us for instruction to others. And Philosophy acknowledgeth to have learned from them many of her Arts and Sciences; they have instructed us in Physick, even in morality, nay they have taught us piety. Por∣phyrius, Plutarch, Raymondus, Sebondus, for whom also Montaign in his Essays hath writ∣ten an Apology, were all of the same opinion with our Author, and if you will have the rea∣sons of these and other learned men, why they have allowed Reason to Beasts, take these in brief. That most Animals have organs fit, and faculties like ours; In Anatomy the ve∣ry cells of their brain nothing different; that their industry not onely equals but often sur∣passeth that of man; Essences and Properties are known but by effects: It is not more rea∣sonable to conclude that Beasts doing reason∣able things, have a reasonable Faculty, then to affirm that the effects are not reasonable, because Beasts have not a reasonable Faculty? the Effects appear, the Power is occult. That they seek necessaries without being instruct∣ed, and of themselves invent the means to acquire them, that they are capable of disci∣pline even contrary to their own Nature, that

most of them can discern things, and can ac∣commodate themselves to time, place and o∣ther circumstances, and accordingly operate diversly; so that no man can deny but that they act formally for some end, and know both that as the end and the means to attain it as means; nay more, that they tend to a felicity proportionable to their Nature, Plea∣sure being their highest good, and Grief their extremity of ill. To conclude, the greatest difficulty seems to be in the terms; those who call it Instinct, cannot deny but it acts with Reason; and those that allow them Reason, deny it to be Intellectual. Now if you re∣quire examples out of History to confirm this opinion, If Plinies Elephant repeating his Lesson in the Moon-shine is not to be cre∣dited, nor Ptolomies Stag who understood Greek, nor Plutarchs Dog who could coun∣terfeit rhe very convulsions of death; nor that Goose which was Disciple to a Philoso∣pher; what shall we say to an Ape that could play at Chess, or of another that had learnt some touches upon the Gittar. But let who will judge of Francis the First's Dog; that King having lost his Gloves as he was hunt∣ing, and having sent him in search of it, and he after a tedious inquiry returning without it, being remanded by his Master, runs di∣rectly

to Paris, and leaps up at a Stall where he had formerly observed Gloves hang out, and tears down a pair and carries them three leagues back again to the King. Let them I say judge whether this action were not from Discourse; sure I am it could not be from his scent.

If you desire more fitting Examples, more pregnan•• Reasons, and more satisfying An∣swers to all the objections you can make, you shall finde them in this following Discourse. So that after reflection and deliberation we can never deny Reason to Beasts, least we condemn our selves for want of common sense. Let us therefore rather improve our Intellectual Faculties by subduing the sensu∣al, and thereby make that essential differ∣ence appear, whereby at last we may attain to that knowledge of our selves, which as it is the Authors, so it ought to be our chief End.

T. N.

A DISCOURSE OF THE KNOWLEDGE OF ANIMALS.

The Introduction.

IT's strange, that Man, who believes him∣self Natures masterpiece, and that it is his right to command all that is in the Universe, should not have informed himself of that Title which gives him these advan∣tages; and that he knows not wherein the excel∣lency consists wherewith he flatters himself, not

whereon the Soveraignty he claims, is founded. And what is the more wonderful, is. That he who hath given himself the liberty to assign to every thing the rank and order which they ought to hold in the world, and to prescribe them the function they are to exercise, should have forgot himself in this general distribution which he hath made, have∣ing reserved for himself no employment worthy of his ambition, or of the quality he hath taken. For although he boasts, that he hath Reason for his portion, and that he believes it belongs to him in propriety, and that it gives him the soveraign com∣mand over all creatures; yet hath he so ill explain'd himself therein, and so weakly maintained the right which may be his, that in all Ages there hath lived very great Philosophers, who have assured that Beasts had Reason; so that even there hath been Times wherein it was hardly permitted to doubt it: And that since the contrary hath crept into the Schools, the most cleer-sighted have held it as suspected, and the most moderate have rank'd it amongst those Questions which might be main∣tained on either side. And certainly if we consider the wonderful industry wherewith Beasts perform the most part of their works; the ingenious fore∣sight they use to shun evil, and seek what is useful for them; the sleights and niceties they practise the one against the other; the society and the com∣munication they have together, and all those exam∣ples of prudence, of gratitude, and of generosity which they have given us, and which have con∣vinced such Great persons: It's impossible but we must believe, or at least suspect that Actions which

appear so reasonable, cannot but be managed by Reason. For if we would refer them to Instinct, the nature thereof is so hidden, that there is no likelihood to destroy such clear and strong con∣jectures, by so obscure and ill establish'd a thing; And which perhaps, if it were well known, would be found nothing different or estranged from Reason.

In effect, whatsoever may be said of the Instinct, it must either be an exterior cause which forceth Animals and works upon them, without their con∣tributing any thing but obedience; or else it must be a faculty natural unto them, by reason whereof they agitate themselves, and are truly the cause and principle of their actions: now, as a man cannot main∣tain that it is a stranger power, without falling into great inconveniences, and particularly in this, That we should give an assault to the Almightiness and infinite wisdom of God, for having left his works imperfect, and having deprived them of the greatest part of those vertues, which are most necessary for their preservation. We must conclude, it is a faculty born with them, which ought to be of an order as elevated, as its effects are excellent, and which con∣sequently acts with a great knowledge. If it be so, who will not have cause to believe, that actions whose successes are so well ordered, which have so well regulated a progress and a concatenation, which so justly ties together the means with their ends, must needs be enlightned by Reason.

But, what renders these presumptions yet strong∣er, is the weakness of the proofs whereon the con∣trary opinion is grounded. For it is a thing which

is hardly conceiveable, that Ratiocination should be taken from Beasts, without knowing the nature of Ratiocination. For certainly, hitherto no man hath exactly discovered wherein it consists, nor what the soul doth when it reasons, not what difference there is betwixt this operation of the mind, and the two others. We are well assured, that in the first the Understanding forms the images of things; but when we come to examine the latter where Ratio∣cination consists, we fall short. And it is apparent, that Discourse, which like light makes known the most obscure things, remains it self unknown, and hides it self as that doth in darkness.

Yet herein is the foundation whereon the decisi∣on of this famous Controversie ought to be esta∣blished. And there had been no more subject to doubt, if after having shewn how Ratiocination is formed, it had been remonstrated that that action surpassed the forces of all those faculties which are in Beasts. So that a man need not be astonished, if for default of having well observed that fundamen∣tal Truth, a man is not sure of the party he ought to take; and if we doubt of those Conclusions, which are drawn from Principles which are without evidence and without proof.

Let them oppose as long as they please, That Reasoning requires Propositions and universal No∣tions; and that it cannot be made without abstra∣ction, and some reflection of the knowledge it hath of its self; which are things whereto it's certain the soul of Beasts can never attain: Yet some will still say, that it is not therein in which the reasoning of Beasts consists; that all these conditions are

strange unto it; and that the Sillogism which is called expositive, is an evident sign thereof, since it cannot be formed of terms purely singular with∣out any abstraction, and there being no need for the spirit to reflect on it self. Whence it follows, the difficulty is not taken away so, but that the con∣jecture which we have of the Reason of Beasts, re∣main in full force, and that nothing is objected which destroys or weakens it.

After which, who dares affirm that it is Reason which raiseth Men above Beasts, without rendring that Right doubtful which cannot be contested against him, and without putting a Soveraigncie in competition, to which all Nature hath subjected it self? No, no; There must be a more solid foun∣dation which must maintain his dignity, he must draw his perfection and excellency from a higher source: In a word, he must have some vertue which must be so eminent, which must be above all those which are in Nature, and whereto the most perfect Animals can never attain. But we must yet confess, that he who should have discovered so important a matter, hath done no small service to all the society of Mankind; and that perhaps he hath little less obliged them, then those who invented the most profitable Arts and Sciences. Besides that he would have taught them the greatest and most precious things it hath, that it would have put the advanta∣ges and prerogatives it hath out of contest, and it would have justified the Empire it pretends, shew∣ing that it is not a Tyranny as it's reproached with∣all, but a just and legitimate dominion. It would without doubt withdraw them from the danger

they are in at every moment, not only to commit an injustice against Beasts and against it self, but even also some kind of impiety towards God. For, in the doubt wherein we are, that Beasts have reason; if it be found that in effect they have any, as it is not perhaps impossible, would not the Man then be unjust to ravish a good from them, which belongs to them as well as to him? Would he not do himself wrong, to ground his excellency and his superiority on a thing which he hath only in com∣mon with them? And will he not thereby sensibly offend the Author, in seeking to suppress so glori∣ous a badg of his power and of his wisdom?

All these considerations had sometimes perswa∣ded me, that every Man ought to contribute with all his power to the finding out of a thing, in which every Man had an interest, and since Truth is like those unknown Lands which from time to time are discovered, and often rather by hazard then by ad∣dress, that it might happen, that the less intelligent might advance the discovery of those noble functi∣ons of the Soul which have hitherto been unknown, at least whereof the past Ages have left us but some imperfect relations. Upon this confidence I had, as they say, set sail; and neither the fear of shipwrack, nor an unprofitable voyage, could ever hinder me from hazarding my self in so high an enter∣prise.

After having therefore carefully enquired the Nature of these Faculties, and having made (as I thought) some considerable Observations, and which had not been made before, I thought I was obliged to divulge them, and that I could not sup∣press

them without betraying the common cause. So that the Treatise of the Characters of the Passi∣ons, wherein I have engaged my self, having given me way to acquit my self of that duty, I had added to the Second Volume of that Work, a particular Treatise of the Knowledge of Beasts; where all these Questions are examined, and wherein I pre∣tended to shew by new and very probable proofs, That Beasts reason, and their reasoning is formed only of particular notions and propositions, wherein it is different from that of Men, who have the fa∣culty of reasoning universally; and that this fa∣culty is the true difference of Man, which marks the spirituality and immortality of his soul. This Dis∣course having appeared in the World with a very happy fate, and if I may so speak, with more ap∣probation then I ever hoped; To that height, that some men perswaded themselves, that the Propo∣sitions I had therein established ought hereafter to be received for Truths which were not to be doubt∣ed; and that no body would venture to write against so plausible and so solidly proved a Doctrine. For mine own part, who could never have had so ad∣vantagious a sense of mine own work, and who believe besides, that it is impossible for the Mind of Man to penetrate these profound depths, and to take off those thick vails which hide the Nature of every thing; which withheld me from falling into that vanity. And I always thought, that an Opinion so far estranged from common belief, would never fail of Enemies, which would assault it as soon as it should appear in publick.

Indeed, a little while after, Monsieur Chanet

published his Book of the Instinct and Knowledge of Beasts: The Title of which promiseth an Exa∣men of all what I had written on that Subject; the main design whereof was to shew, That Beasts can∣not reason. As soon as his Discourse came to my hands, I fancied him to be some Hero of the Schools, and some new Hercules, whose Commission was to damn Paradoxes, and to maintain Vulgar opinions. And I ingenuously confess, that at that time fear and hope equally divided my mind: I was afraid to find such strong Reasons, that they would have ob∣liged me to abandon those Opinions which had been so well received, and which had afforded me so much reputation. On the other side, the ardent love I have for the Truth, made me hope that I should therein learn divers things which were un∣known unto me, and that my losses would be re∣paired by those fair instructions I should gather from thence. But in once reading of it, all those vain thoughts were taken away; and, far from making me change my opinion, it fortified me in my first sentiment, and made me believe, that those things which before I esteemed but probable, might now pass for demonstrative, since they had been disputed against with all the endeavours of a man of metal, who hath meditated and written so much on these things. For, this is worthy consideration, that M.C. hath deduced no proofs to destroy my Reasons, in which he hath not used some Sophism or Para∣logism, as I shall make it appear in this Discourse: And that necessarily his cause must be ill, since that with all the Memory and all the Reading which they say he hath, they could furnish him with no

lawful defence, he having made use of sleights and artifices only, which such men use who mistrust the soundness of their own right.

Assuredly, if this manner of acting were to be permitted any man, it were to be allowed me, who have stragled out of the ordinary road, who have brought to light new Paradoxes, and whose proofs at worst may pass for the disports of the mind, as well as those of those men who have made Elogies of Nero, and of the Quartan Ague. But that M.C. should make use of them to maintain an Opinion which is so generally approved by all the World, and which is held as an undoubted Maxim in Philo∣sophy, is an unexcuseable abuse, and which must charge him with so reproachful a shame amongst those of his own party, that he could not defend a good cause but by ill means, or that he should have prevaricated in his own cause: I fear even lest I should be entangled in his disgrace, and that those of the most judicious seeing my Writings, may not suspect an intelligence betwixt us two, and that he is an Adversary I have appointed to suffer himself to be overcome, and by his weakness to give credit to my party. But to justifie my self from this suspi∣tion, I have nothing to say, but that I had never heard any speak of M.C. till the Book he had writ∣ten against me came to light: And that there is no likelihood, that under colour to give some lustre to my opinions by this artifice, I should engage a man of honor in so base a design, without the fear lest he should have doubly made against me, and lest he might quit himself of the faint, that in good earn∣est he might handle me the worse.

I should indeed have been justly chastised for my imprudence, had I afterwards met with in his Book so many picquant and malicious words which he vented against me, and which he hath mixt with some praises, as those who infuse poison with sugar. When I saw those shameful reproaches he made me; sometimes, That my mind was distorted, and that I had not thought of what I had written, (p. 124) That there is not the least appearance of truth, and that it is a shame to stick at them, (p. 148.) And then. That I am ignorant of the Rules and terms of Philosophy, (p. 240.) That I every minute fall into contradictions; and, That he can hardly believe I am Author of the Work, (p. 242.) with a hundred such like, which he utters with scorn and reproach. No, no; this proceeding makes it evidently appear that he had no intelligence with me, that he hath defended his cause the best he was able; and that if he have brought ill reasons to maintain it, it is because he believed them good, and was ignorant of their defects. Neither would I absolutely con∣demn him for the incivility he hath treated me withall; and I should rather attribute it to heat of dispute, or the natural sharpness of a Critick, then to any ill will he could have against me. I know, that in combats of pleasure and divertisement, it is almost impossible but some angry touches must be given; and that blows cannot be handled so dex∣terously, but some will be ruder then they were in∣tended. But what was to have been desired in those of M.C. 'tis, that he should have behaved himself pleasantly, and like a gallant Fellow, and not have accompanied them with a pedantick severity, which

appears through all his Discourse, and which will oblige many men to believe, that Passion rather then Truth hath armed his pen against me. There are even some already who have made this judg∣ment, having observ'd how he introduced my Name to the Title of his Book, and that he affected to repeat it in all the passages he was able. For, since it not at all concerned the question, and that he might have examined my reasons without name∣ing me, even as I had done those of other men. They did believe that it must needs have been some secret malignity, which moved him to place my Name for a Trophy in the front of his Work, and to lead it as it were in triumph through all the Pages of his Book. For my part, I durst not judge so sinisterly of his intentions: So far was I from complaining of him in that encounter, that I find I have reason to thank him for putting me in the rank of the Great men he hath assaulted; and I shall never be asham'd to have my Name appear with the Names of Mr. de Charron, and Mr. de Montagne, should he even reckon them amongst those he had conquered.

It's true, if he had been well advised for his own glory, he should never have made mention of me, nor have discovered that I was the man with whom he was to combat: Some might have thought, after having seen him enter the lifts against such great persons, that I were of the same rank, and that he chose me as an Enemy worthy both of his strength and courage. But when it shall be known, that it is against me he hath made this stir to lift up his buckler, and that it will afterwards appear, that

weak and fresh as I am in these kind of trials, I shall have so easily defeated a man who would pass for the Bravo of our Age, and who in his Writings presents all Comers with a Challenge; it is to be feared, it may much diminish the credit he may have, and lest he be accused for a weak and quarrelsom person, who seeks to gain reputation at the expence of another man's.

Had he therefore followed the councels which Prudence would have given him in this encounter, he had saved himself from these reproaches, and had saved me the pains to have answered him, without having interested my self in a Question, wherein all Opinions are free: I should not have disturbed the pleasure wherewith he flattered him∣self with an imaginary victory; and without envy I could have suffered him to have triumphed over an enemy which he had not overcome. But it had been a barrenness in me to have continued with mine arms across, after the publick Defie he hath given me; and Honor obligeth me to the defence of the Truth, which I heard groaned under his cen∣sure, and which I perceived ready to fall into the ambushes he had laid for it.

Behold, I am ready to defend it, I am here ready to maintain the Propositions which M. C: hath contested. The Reader shall afterwards judg which of us two hath the better right. But that he may be instructed of all what may lawfully be necessary in my defence, he must be informed of the order which I have observed, and of the motives which have ob∣liged me to another course then that which hitherto hath been followed.

Having considered, that the proof which hath been used to shew, That Beasts reason, did not not convince those who hold the contrary opinion, and that they shifted off all the strength of it by the word Instinct; which how vain soever it be, forbears not to intangle the question, and render the decision the more doubtful; I imagined the Truth was to be sought in the source; and leaving Experiments which were contested, it might be found in Ratiocination it self. I therefore would examine the nature thereof, and see whether there were any thing which Beasts could not do, and which surpast the force of the Imagination, and of the other faculties which all are agreed they are endowed withal. But as Reasoning is a Knowledge, and that there are three sorts of Knowledge, to wit, The first Conceptions, the Judgment, and the Dis∣course: I thought it was fit to be known, wherein all three of them consisted, and what action the soul performed in every of them. Having therefore found, That in the first she forms the images of ob∣jects; in the second, she unites or divides two of those images; and in the third, she collects together three, of which she composeth several Propositions which form Discourse: methought that all the dif∣ficulty was reduced to this point, to wit, To know whether the Imagination can unite or divide images? For if it have that power, it must of necessity be able to make Propositions, and in pursuance, Reason∣ings.

This is the principal Subject of the Treatise which I have brought to light: The first Part whereof is wholly employed to shew, that the Ima∣gination

can form and unite several images, and by consequence, that it may conceive, judge and dis∣course. The other Part contains the Answer which is to be made to the strongest Objections which may be proposed against these Truths, and prin∣cipally to those which are drawn from Custom and from Instinct; where I have explicated the Nature of those Causes, and made it appear that they cannot act without the help of Reason.

This order was not pleasing to M.C. and in the Examen he made, he hath not only begun his Book by a Discourse of Instinct, but he would also have it believed that I had done ill in not following that Method, seeing I held, that the Instinct supposeth a natural knowledge, and that natural knowledges ought to be treated before those which are acquir'd. But he ought to have considered, that all my design was to shew, that Beasts reason; and that what was to be said of Instinct, ought to be but an incident to the question. So that if I had begun from thence, I should have placed the Accessory before the Principal, and the Objection before the Conclusion. On the other side, had not this consideration ob∣liged me to follow this Method, could he not have remembred that there are two sorts of it; the one which begins by those things which in themselves, and naturally are most evident; the other which begins by those, which in respect of us and by the sense, are most evident. That both the one and the other is good; but that the latter hath this advan∣tage, that it is more conformable to our ordinary way of knowing, which begins always by sensible things. So although without a fault I might have

first spoken of Natural knowledges, which are first in the order of Nature, and consequently more evident in themselves then those which are acquired; still methought it was better to begin by those which were acquired, which are most sensible, and there∣fore in our own respect the first and most evident. In effect, since I was to shew that Instinct supposeth a natural knowledge, and that before that I was to seek wherein Knowledge in general consisted; Could I have arriv'd by any surer way then by certain and indubitable Experiments which we have through acquired Knowledge, especially having none through the Natural.

Let us trifle no longer therefore, neither he nor I, on the general Order we have observed in our Works: I think that his was not ill in that parti∣cular; and that mine was necessary for my design. Neither will I change it here, having observed the same disposition of Subjects, the same number of Reasons, and the same sequel of Consequences which are to be found in my Treatise of the Knowledge of Beasts. If there be any difference, it is, that there I have observed as much as I could a Rhetorical discourse; and here I treat of things in the ordi∣nary way of the Schools, who divide the matters by Chapters, which relate the Reasons, and which do not seeek that exact concatenation of words which the Laws of Oratory require.

For, I thought it was fit to make an abridgment of all what I employed in my first Treatise, and afterwards faithfully to produce the objections of M. C. without troubling the Reader to seek els∣where to clear himself concerning the subject of our

contest. I therefore divided my Discourse into four Parts.

In the first I shew, That the Imagination to know things, ought to form the images thereof.

In the second, That the Imagination may unite those images it hath formed, and consequently make Propositions.

In the third, That it may unite several Proposi∣tions, and bind them together with common terms, wherein Ratiocination consists.

The fourth contains the Answer which is to be made to those Objections which are commonly proposed against the Reason of Beasts.

Now for as much as M.C. would not follow this order, I have been constrained to recollect the rea∣sons he hath scattered here and there, and to reduce under every of these parts, where I have examined them with all possible moderation For although in some places there are some touches of censure and raillery, which he may resent; I believe he will con∣sider, that besides that most commonly I do but de∣fend my self with the same arms with which he hath assaulted me; the Critical part is in it self so severe and so crabbed, that if some divertisement were not insinuated, it would become loathsom both to the Author and to the Reader: And if it be lawful to say so, it's a food which easily disgusteth, unless it hath some relish and some sharpness.

But I have not only sought for him this seasoning in the civility of my censure, and in the innocency of my raillery, I have endeavoured to slip in several Questions, which by their novelty may divert the mind of the Reader, and untire him from the troubles

which our Contest may have given him; for with∣out doubt he will take pleasure to know

1. Whether external Images enter into the Me∣mory.

2. What the word Est (Is) signifies in Propo∣sitions.

3. How the Imagination may make negative Propositions.

4. Whether if a materiall power, such as the Imagination is, can forme Universall Noti∣ons.

5. Whether Beasts doubt.

6. Whether they hope, and whether they fear.

7. How they know the time to come.

8. Whether they know the end and the means they use to attain it.

9. What Action the Soul performs in Rea∣soning.

10. Whether one may reason in an instant.

11. Whether Reasoning was given onely to clear doubtfull things.

12. What the Nature of speech is, and of such like, which I have insinuated into this Discourse; Wherein M. C. may if he please exercise himself, but whereof he is not to expect from me any re∣ply; For if he produceth better reasons then mine, I from this very time consent unto them; and if they are as weak as those which he hath already brought, it may be lawfull for me to continue in my opini∣ons and to apply my self to better things then to prolong a Processe where all the profit rather ac∣crews to him who hath lost it; since he gaines both

the time and the truth. Lets quickly dispatch this therefore, and begin with the first Part.

But first of all it is fit, That the Reader should be advertised, that the word of Imagination which is so frequent in this work may not be here taken for a distinct faculty of the common sense of the phan∣cy and of the estimative, as they do commonly in the schools; But for a generall Faculty which compre∣hends all the powers of the Sensitive Soul which serve for knowledge. In the same manner as the word understanding comprehends all the faculties of the intellectuall Soul, which make things to be known. Such as is the Apprehensive, the Cogitative, the, Discoursive the Agent and Patient Intel∣lect &c. In effect all these different faculties which are to be found in the Sensitive Soul, have in com∣mon amongst them That they know, and conse∣quently there is a generall Faculty which knows, which is afterwards divided into as many peices as there are severall sorts of Knowledges. Now this generall faculty having no particular Name, may by the example of divers other genders take the Name of one of those species, and principally that of the Imagination which is the most considerable, and most known. This is practised also when in the de∣stinction of the parts of the Soul, the Imagination is oppos'd to the Appetite, even as we oppose the Understanding to the Will. For its certaine, that in this case the Imagination & the Understanding com∣prehend all the knowing faculties, as the Appetite and the Will expresse all the motive faculties, of the Soul. Howsoever it be, by the word Imagination,

I here understand the Sensitive faculty which knows the things without specifying any of its diffe∣rences, the examen whereof conduceth nothing to my designe.

I am also to add to this advertisment, that the division of the Chapters and Articles was made after the work was ended; for it interrupts not the se∣quel of my discourse, and requires not those great pawses which in other matters were requisite. The Critick also who is oblig'd in a continuall combate, cannot regulare his quarters as an Army would do which hath no enemy before them. Without stop∣ping it pursues its adversary, and gives him no re∣lease till it hath vanquished him: Its thus that I have behav'd my self in the heat of my disputation, not minding the division of my work into so many Sections, but because a long Discourse without any, disturbs the mind and eyes of a Reader, I afterwards advis'd with my self to make some, and to place those things in the Title, which I esteemed most re∣markable, that at first sight the Reader may chuse those Subjects which might be most pleasing to him, without ingageing himself in others which were not according to his gust; But as this manner of reading will be more advantagious to him then to me, and may leave him some doubts which may make him have a ill opinion of my reasons, I shall begg thus far from him, that he will not condemne them untill he hath read the whole work, and without having examined the princip••es & foundations which I have therin established And then if he cannot approve them, I shall condemn,

them, my self, and employ their excuses which the weakness of humane minds and the difficulty there is to penetrate into secrets of nature furn∣ish them withall who have recourse thereunto.

For the rest what is printed in a great Italian Letter at the head of every Part, is the Abridgment of my first Discourse of the Knowledge of Beasts. The figures in the Margent designe the pages of M. C's book out of which I have drawn those pro∣positions which I examine.

That the Imagination forms the Images of things. And that its there wherein the first Knowledge consists.

THE FIRST PART.

IN considering the order which God hath e∣stablished through the whole Universe where the lesse noble thing; serve for the degrees whereby we rise to the most excel∣lent, and all of them have some beginings of that perfection which is more full and perfect in these; A man might easily perswade himself, that since the Sensitive Soul is subordinate to the Reaso∣nable, such a progresse ought to be made in their knowledge, that the first may be addresses to the latter, and that the actions of the understanding may have their beginning to be as it were roughcast in those of the Imagination. And to speak it in one word, since the understanding knows thing, that it judgeth of them and draweth consequences from them, there must needs be somthing done in the Sen∣sitive Soul, which serves for the first draught of those actions, and in which some image, and some

vestiges may be observed. In effect it conceives things, it judgeth whether they are good or ill, and concludes either to follow or to fly them: And to perform these actions, it useth the same way as the Understanding doth. For as it judgeth and reasoneth by uniting things which are divided, and by divi∣ding those which are united, it doth nothing but u∣nite and separate the images of objects, to judge of what is good or ill for the Animal. It is true, that she doth it very imperfectly, both because her power is of no great extent, and because her know∣ledges are as the first sights wherewith the Soul views things, and the first Essays she makes to dis∣cern them.

But to understand this, it's necessa∣ry to see how the Imagination knows, and how far its knowledge may ar∣rive. Having therefore presupposed that Knowledge is the onely function of the Rea∣sonable and Sensitive Soul, forasmuch as to be sen∣sible, to conceive, to judge, and to reason, is nothing else but to know, I have from thence inferred, That since all things which are below them have the ver∣tue of operating, they also must needs have it; and consequently that Knowledge which is their onely function is an Action. So that those who say that the Senses know not their objects but by receiving their images; and that sensation is a pure passion, place the sensitive Soul below all corporal things, and destroy ever the Nature of Knowledge which was even placed in the rank of vital actions.

Now because Knowledg cannot be otherwise con∣ceived

but as a representation of the objects which are made in the mind; If the Sensitive Soul knows, and if to know is to operate; it of necessity must present it self with the objects; And because it can∣not otherwise represent a thing but by forming its picture, it follows that in knowing things, it forms pictures and images of them, and that there is no o∣ther action which may be attributed unto it pro∣portionable to the perfection and excellency of its Nature.

To confirm this truth, we have in pursuit shewed, that these ima∣ges ought to be different from those which come from without.

1. Reason. Because these are not capable to make the representation wherein the Knowledge consists, since they subsist onely in the presence of the ob∣jects, and that the Soul forbears not to represent them although they be absent.

2 Reas. Because those which the Understanding useth are different from those which the Imaginati∣on and the Senses may furnish; and since it forms them to its self, the Imagination ought to do in the same manner.

3 Reas. Forasmuch as sensible images represent onely the accidents, and that the Imagination must not onely know the sensible Accidents but the sen∣sible Body, and so the Images it forms represent both the Accidents and Subject once together.

This latter proposition, which ought to serve as a principle, to shew the impotency which the Imagination hath to make ab∣stracts

and universal Notions, was maintained by four Reasons.

The First, That the Imagination being a power buried in the matter, ought to have an object of the same Gender, and an action which terminates in a thing, which in some manner may be as that is composed.

The Second, That being destined to represent sensible things, and having no other vertue but to make pictures and images thereof, it ought to re∣present them all whole, and such as they are; which it would not do, did it form the image of accidents onely.

The Third, That the images being to serve for a model to the Understanding to form its Ideas, in some manner they ought to represent the substance of the objects; otherwise they could not attain to the Knowledge of them, because that after having separated all the accidents, nothing would remain, that might make the representation of the sub∣stance.

The Fourth, That at last Experience taught us, that sensible Accidents are onely marks and signs which make the Imagination know those things which it ought to fear or desire; and that at the first sight which we might have of objects, we did not beleeve we saw onely the visible accidents, but even the bodies themselves: The distinction which we make afterwards of them, being an effect of Rea∣son which distinguisheth what the Imagination had confounded.

So that we may from thence conclude, that to speak properly, the Imagination is not sensible, and

knows not the colour nor the heat, but what is colou∣red and what is hot; and although it seem as if there were nothing but the colour which presents it self to the eye, and that the heat only strikes the sense; yet when the Imagination thereupon comes to form its Fantasme, it mixeth the image of those qualities with that of the body, and confounds the Accident with the Subject; Because it can operate onely con∣formable to its nature which is composed, and to its end which is the knowledge of the sensible bo∣dy; And therefore the fantasm it produceth must be in some manner composed, as it is, and as the sen∣sible body also is.

These are the Reasons which have made us be∣leeve that the Imagination it self forms its Images; That it forms them on the sensible species, which the objects conv••igh through the organs of the Senses. That in forming them it knows the things it repre∣sents. And last of all, That no created Nature can know otherwise then by producing in it self the Images of the things which come to its Know∣ledge.

But as to what may be said, that Knowledge consists not in this production of Images, since we know those things which have preserved themselves in our Memories, and that it is not necessary that the Soul should form those Images, since she findes them already formed; We did answer, That although the Image of an Object be in the Memory, yet it therefore makes not Knowledge, because the Imagination knows it not if it operate not on it. Now it hath no

other operation but the representation which is the production of the image: And therefore al∣though the image of that object be in the Memory, The Soul can have no knowledge of it, unless she form another in herself; and as often as she would know it, so often must she make new figures, which must be as new colours laid upon her first design: We must not also stick at the inconvenience which might happen from the mutiplicity of images which the Soul may form of the same thing: For as much as even as the two images which are received by the two eyes, or by the two ears, confound themselves in one, and represent but one onely object; so also the phantasms which the Soul forms of the same thing, unite themselves in one onely; and the multiplicity seems but to render it the more express; and that's the reason for which the Memory for 〈◊〉〈◊〉 it self by re∣petition, forasmuch as the images it keeps are re∣freshed and renewed by those which the Soul adds a fresh, and are as it were touched again with new touches and new colours.

Now although the images which are in the Memory make not Knowledge, yet are they not unprofitable unto it, for that they seem to reproduce it another time; for as it is necessary to Beasts to remember past things, that they may provide for their preservation: its fit there should remain in the absence of the exte∣riour objects, something which may bring them to the fight of the Soul again, which might supply the defect of exterior species, and which by consequence may seem to the same use whereto they were imployed. That as these are nothing else but examples, on which the Soul

forms its phantasms, that it may know things: So those phantasms which remain after in operation may serve it for new models, wereon she makes new repre∣sentations, and new knowledges.

From all these things thus established, we have redu∣ced this other consequence; That since the Imagination is of the rank of material things, its incapable to form any universal Notions, for as much as what is materi∣al, is determinate and singular: And because its ob∣ject is the sensible body, and that the image it forms to it self confounds the accidents with the matter, it can∣not make such pure abstractions as the understanding doth, nor separate accidents from their Subject.

It may very well make some of those abstractions which we call negatives, whereby we stop to consider one accident of a thing without minding others: for it may conceive and judge, that a thing is sweet with∣out thinking its hot; because this kinde of abstraction destroys not its object, as the others do which quite se∣parate the accidents and the forms of the matter.

So that we may say, That the Ʋnderstanding doth in these encounters like the Mathematician who assem∣bles all the simple figures: But the Imagination imi∣tates the Architect, who assembles not the figures, but the stones of such a figure: for it knows neither the colour nor the heat, but it knows what is coloured, and what is hot; and when it judgeth that a thing is good, it is as much as if we had said It unites such a thing with such a good thing; for that it can form no image which is not composed; and that in assembling one image with another, it must unite two composed ones together.

These are the principal points which we have im∣ployed

in the first part of the Treatise of the Know∣ledge of Beasts: Now let us see what M. C. hath opposed against them.

CHAP. I. That the Pefection of things is begun in those which are inferiour to them.

FIrst he condemns the order which I have observed in Nature, and will not have the perfection which is found in the most noble, to begin by those which are inferiour to it, in those things which are subordinate the one to the other: In his first assault, the spirit that moves him may be discerned, and the design he had to spare nothing, when he should meet the occasion, since he trou∣bles himself to destroy a thing which cannot hurt him, and whereof I pretend to take no advantage; and that he therein imitates those passionate Ene∣mies, who beat down the ornaments of the Towns they besiege, although they can do them no hurt, nor serve for the defence of the besieged. For the Proposition which he would ruine, was placed at the entry of my Discourse but as a pleasant Avenue, or as a piece of Architecture, which makes no part of the Edifice which I would build: In a word, it is the Preface of my work which ought not to decide the question I was to discourse, but onely to pre∣pare the Readers minde, and to give him some suspi∣tion, and some conjecture of that Truth which I

would shew him. Neither is it to be found in the rank of those proofs which I have imployed to esta∣blish it, although I ought not to have forgotten it, had I made a fundamental reason of it, as M. C: imagineth. For although it be most certain, yet is not fit to perswade all kindes of mindes, and I very evidently foresaw, that the Application I must have made thereof might have been contested: After all, if I should have used it, as a necessary principle to my design, I would not have proposed it naked and simple, as I did; I would have maintained it with Reasons, and with an Induction which might have convinced those who would have doubted of it.

This had been nothing difficult for me to have done, since Philosophy teacheth us, that in all the order of things, there is ever one first which posses∣seth in perfection that Nature whereon the order is established; and that all those which are inferiour to it, have onely portions of it, which are greater or lesser, as they draw neerer or are estranged far∣ther from it; So fire is the first amongst hot bodies, Heaven amongst the Diaphanous, the Sun amongst the Luminous, and so of all the rest: And every of them hath in the sovereign degree that quality which serves for the foundation of that order wherein they are. All that are under have it more or less weakned. It is not in the qualities onely wherein this disposition is to be found; it's re∣markable even in the essence, and in the very sub∣stance of things. For there is a first being which possesseth all the extent, and all the perfection of the essence, of which the rest are but little portions,

which are still diminishing to the very matter, which is almost a nothing, and a Non ens.

The Platonick Philosophy is full of these con∣siderations, it acknowledgeth a first One, a first Good, and a first Fair, of which all the rest are but participations. Aristotle even wills that in the order of Substances, there are some more substances then the rest; that Form is more then Matter; That the first is more then that which is called the second. And to draw nearer to our Subject, There is no faculty in living and animated things which enter into order, wherein the same participation is not ob∣servable. There are plants which nourish, which en∣crease and multiply some more then others; and those who know their Nature well, may see that the most perfect in every kind hath that vertue which is fit for it in a soveraign degree. What inequality will not be found in the distribution of the Senses, if we would measure the difference which there is amongst Animals? for the sight, from the Mole to the Eagle; for smel, from Insects to the Dogs; for touch, from Spunges, or if you will from the sensi∣tive Plant to Man; and so of all other Animal Ver∣tues. In fine, he who would consider all the gen∣ders of things, he will finde some species which are as bonds which unite them together, and as steps which insensibly lead from the one to the other; for amongst Stones and Plants, there are Stone-plants found; amongst Plants and Ani∣mals there are the Zoophytes▪ amongst fish and Terrestrial Creatures we finde the Amphibious, so far, that even to preserve this order, there must often have been species in some sort monstrous to

place amongst those things which are most opposite; such is the Bat amongst Birds and four-footed Beasts; for it's a monstrous Bird which hath neither feathers nor bill, which hath teeth and breasts, and which goes on four feet although it have but two. Such is the Triton amongst Aquatick Creatures and Man; such also betwixt him and terrestrial Animals is the Guinny Monkey called Banis, and a thousand such like, which may be observed running over all the species which are in the Universe. All which evidently make it appear, that it's a Law which Na∣ture hath imposed to make an essay of her works in the meanest things, that she might compleat them in the highest, and that in those she might put the beginning of that vertue which she intended perfect in these; Which being so, had not I reason to leave this suspition in the Readers mind, That the same might be in that of Reasoning. And since the Sen∣sitive Soul was subordinate to the Reasonable; and even therein there must be some vestiges and some rough-casts of reason which were perfect in this: At all adventures, it was a proposition which was to be made good by the proof I was to make of the rea∣soning of Beasts. And I should have been guilty to have supprest it, since it may serve for a new exam∣ple to confirm that fair disposition which the wis∣dom and providence of God hath established in the World.

So that M. C. hath not onely grosly abused himself when he did beleeve that I made it the foun∣dation of my proof, but even also when he would accuse it of falseness, since he knew not the use I had destined it unto, and that he produceth no

reason which might convince it of error. He says well, p 41. That there are a thousand most excellent Fa∣culties in Minerals, the least tract of which appears not in the Elements; That nourishment and the other parts of Vegetation are compleat in Plants, and are not began in those things which are inferior to them; That Sight, Memory, and Imagination are onely to be found in Animals.

But all this makes nothing against the truth of this Proposition: when it assures that the lowest things have the beginnings of that perfection which is to be found in the highest; this ought to be un∣derstood of those which are in one and the same order, and which consequently have a Vertue or a Nature common amongst themselves. For all things are not in one and the same order; and as many different Vertues as there are, and several Na∣tures which may be common, so many several or∣ders of things there are, such as that is of Bodies Diaphanous, Luminous, &c,

There are without doubt in the Minerals, quali∣ties which are common with the Elements, and which consequently make an order amongst them∣selves, as is hardness, weight, and such like. But there are those also which are particular unto them; and the order which is found in them, is shut up in the gender of Minerals, but it's always according to the proportion we have observed: For Gold, for example, possesseth the Metallick Nature in perfection, and all other Metals have but their por∣tions greater or lesser as they are nearer or farther estranged from that rich metal. We may say as much of Plants and Animals.

So that M. C. objects, That the vegetative Fa∣culties of Plants is not to be found in things inferior to them, and that the Sensitive are onely in Ani∣mals.

That excludes not the order and the disposition we speak of; on the contrary it supposeth and con∣firms ••t, since all the Faculties are diversly divided; and that there are subjects which have onely the beginnings, and others which are entire and per∣fect, as we have shewed. To weigh also M. C's. reasons, we may discover a pure Paralogism, who from a true Proposition draws a consequence con∣••radictory to it, since it destroys the order which that supposeth.

But perhaps the other which he adds may be more regular; For he says afterwards, that as God would have the specifick Vertues to be those which are most perfect, he would also have them most incommuni∣cable; whence it follows, that far from having e∣stablished that order which I would perswade, he hath established one quite contrary.

Many things might be said on this subject, were it for my purpose; but as I hold them indifferent, nei∣ther will I examine whether specifick Vertues are the most perfect, and in what sense it may be true: I will content my self to say by the way, That pro∣perly they are not in order, because they are incom∣municable and indivisible, and that there must be something which must communicate and divide it self, to form that order of which we speak, which is an order of dignity and perfection. They are then onely by accident, that is to say, because they are joyned to things which may truly be brought into

order: It is just as if in transparent bodies, some were marked which were hot; for as hot it could not enter into this order but by accident, to wit, be∣cause it was found joyned with that transparency. We might even assure that the Species and the spe∣cifik Vertues are in order but as the marks of the order; forasmuch as the species is as much as the numbers make, not the ordered but serve for marks to the order which is made: For as the numeral quantity (if it be permitted to substitute this word to that of the Schools) is that which divides it self, and that every division is marked by such a species of number which is indivisible, and which cannot be augmented not diminished, without losing its name and nature. So the Essence being severally di∣vided to all beings, makes as many species, as it suf∣fers divisions, and every species is the mark of such a division, and of such a share which is made in the Essence; Now the mark of the order is of the or∣der but by accident. But this is not the place to deepen these things; let us content our selves to conclude, That since specifick Vertues are capable of no order, they being neither to be divided nor separated, M.C. hath ill taken his measure, when he opposed them to the propositions I made, which speak onely of things which may be ordered and diversly divided.

At last he concludes, That if this order be found in Knowledge, Beasts, Men and Angels would be of the same species, because they would not differ one from the other, but by the more or the less, whereupon no specifick difference could be grounded.

But as the things we now treat are not essential

to our question for the reasons we have specified, and that this objection considers the grounds, this is not a place to examine it, and I shall answer it in the fourth part of this work, where I shall make it appear, that the more or the less marks, and often, causeth different species.

In the mean time, that we may no longer be a∣mused at the Incident which M. C. hath found whence he can draw no advantage: We must enter into the Examen of these peeces which are to be decided in the process which we have toge∣ther.

CHAP. II. That Knowledge is an Action and a Producti∣on of Images.

FRom the beginning he will not have knowledge to be the onely function of the sensitive Soul, Because (saith he) it hath also the Memory, the Ap∣petite and the Motive Vertue which make it act acti∣ons different from Knowledge.

But M.C. deals not fairy here, or else he mind∣ed not that the word Sensitive is a precise term which marks the particular reason in which the Soul ought here to be considered, and which for that cause is equivalent with those which the School calls Reduplicatives, which if it be so, my Proposition admits of no difficulty: For it is cer∣tain, That the sensitive Soul as sensitive, hath no other function but Knowledge; because to be sen∣sible is to know, and that Sensitive means the same

thing as Knowledge. Now its true, that the soul, as a Knowledge, hath no other Function but Know∣ledge, and if it produceth other actions, it is no lon∣ger as sensitive and as knowing.

But were it true, that as sensitive she had other powers; yet must that ever which knows things be more noble then all the rest, as M. C. confesseth himself, p. 42. So that we may always from thence conclude, that its an active power, since the rest which are inferior to it have the Vertue to act. So that the reason which we have established remains in full force, and necessarily proves, that Know∣ledge ought to be an Action; in effect it hath been drawn from the confession of M. C. which made him forsake Fracastors part, although in his opini∣on no man hath so well spoken of Knowldge as himself. It is therefore agreed amongst us too, that Knowledge ••s an Action; but he consents not with me, that this Action is a representation; otherwise he would be forced to confess, that there is no other means of knowing, but by forming the images of objects, because no representation can be made but by making the picture of the thing which is re∣presented. And truly there is a great likelihood that this reason hath convinced him, since he who pardons not even the least syllables, found no∣thing to say against this consequence, and content∣ed himself to remit the decision thereof to Fracaster who is of opinion quite contrary to his: How∣ever it be, if he did certainly beleeve that Know∣ledge consisted not in this representation and pro∣duction of images, he ought to have taught us what action it was the faculty performed in that en∣counter,

and not to have imitated those ill pleaders who always reserve themselves to deduce their rea∣sons in time and place; The Tribunal of Philoso∣phy suffers not those delays and those escapes; it wills that every man clearly would contribute to the Knowledge of the Truth, and bring into so∣ciety as into the publick Treasure all those riches he thinks he hath discovered.

Yet is not this M. C's. opinion, who in several places of his work highly protests, That he ought to establish nothing that he held the Negative, and that he is Defender onely to such an instance. Where∣to notwithstanding we may by the way say he was not called, neither was he more considerable then an infinite many, who are as much interessed in the question as him self. But we treat not here of forms; the ground must be examined, and we must see what other action besides what we have ob∣served, may intervene to form Knowledge; for it is true, others as well as M. C. have thought that it was not sufficient to know things for the faculty to receive the images; that besides that, it ought to perceive, to consider, and to comprehend; but those who will well consider these terms, will finde they leave the thing as doubtful as at first. For a man may ask what it is to perceive, consider or compre∣hend images; what the soul doth in considering them, in comprehending them, in perceiving them? Is it that she applies and unites her self to them? Besides, the application is no principal action, and is but a condition to act. There is no action appears therein which answers the nobility of so high a Fa∣culty. Is it not that she enlightneth and illuminates

them? These are the Metaphorical terms which do not clearly express things, and all those brightnesses and lights produce nothing in these matters but ob∣scurity. Not therefore to stick at the vain and un∣profitable manners of speaking, and without being concerned in M.Cs. quality, who makes profession to destroy all, and to establish nothing; Let us conclude that there is no other means to know, but to form images, and that there is no action that can furnish us with the knowing Faculty, porportio∣nable to the excellency of its nature as that is; since by that means, it in some manner makes the objects it knows; that it transforms it self into them, and as Aristotle says, That it makes it self all things.

M. C. opposeth to these Truths, That the Senses know their objects without forming any images of them, having no others but those which they received from them.

But this Objection being accompanied with no proof destroys not our Proposition. As we beleeve That the Sensitive soul knows in forming its images; we hold also, and everywhere where she knows she doth the same thing; and therefore when she knows in the organs of the Senses, she forms in her self the picture of the things, the species of which she hath received; so that when she is diverted else∣where, and that she cannot make this production, she knows nothing of all their objects, although they have perfectly received the images thereof; but we will hereafter re-touch this subject

The sensible Species enter not the Memory.

Let us see whether it be true, That the sensible species enter the Memory, and whether they may pre∣serve themselves there, as without proving it M:C. assures us.

All those who have spoken of the visible species, have said that they had no permanent being, be∣ing in a continual flux, that their preservation de∣pended on a continual influence of the cause which produced them, and that it communicated it self but in right lines: If this be so, as experience hin∣ders us from doubting, I would willingly ask how those species which enter the Eyes may be conveyed into the Memory; and if this Faculty be placed in the bottom of the Brain, as all the world beleeves, what course can they hold to go streight thither, so many turns and obstacles being to be met withal in the nerves, and in those other channels through which they are to pass? For it's to no purpose to oppose unto us, that they render themselves there, by the several reflections they make, since the sub∣stance of the Nerves and of the Humors is too gross to give them a passage, and that the reflexion so many times doubled, weakens the images, and represents the objects but confusedly; but if they could arrive at the Memory, could they subsist there, since they have no permanent being? This without doubt cannot be conceived without contradiction; for if it be their nature to be in a continual flux they can never be fixt and permanent, no more then the motion: And 'tis the reason they

of themselves vanish as soon as the object dis∣appears; forasmuch as losing themselves in the same instant that they are produced, they had need be renewed from one moment to another: And if the cause which produceth them absent it self, it can make no more of them. If it were then true, that the Memory might preserve them in the absence of the Objects, it must supply their defect, and it must with them have the vertue to produce them uncessantly. Now if she had that vertue, she might form them all alone without help of the Objects; it would not be needful to have seen Colours, to remember them; and blind men might judge of them as well as the clearer-sighted. On the other side, if the visible Species are nothing but the Rays of Colours, which (to speak properly) are but weakened and diminished lights, as we have shewed elswhere; the Memory to produce these species must have interior colours, and be truly colour'd as well as the objects which produce them.

M. C. hath too cleer a spirit not to have seen these impossibilities; but he hath chosen to dis∣semble them, that he might have the more ample matter of contest, and not be obliged to conclude with me, That since the images of objects which the senses have perceived are preserved in the me∣mory, they must be different from those which the objects send thither; and that otherwise they would not be proportionable to the nature of the Soul.

The Images which the Imagination forms, are different from those which pass from the Objects, as those are of the Ʋnderstanding.

On what I have said, That the Imagination ought to form different images from those which come from without, since the Understanding forms those which are different from those wherewith the Imagination and the Senses furnish it: M. C. answers, That I prove not this consequence, and that I can say nothing which hinders him from denying it. For my part, I doubt not but he may deny what∣ever I may produce which is most certain and most evident: After having protested that he will stick to the Negative, if he acted otherwise, he would betray his cause and give himself the lye; however it be, any man but he without any doubt would find this Consequence good. The Understanding to know, forms images according to its nature; whence the Imagination to know, ought also to form images conformable to its nature. For since these two faculties have that in common. That they know; they must needs also have some action which must be common unto them to form Know∣ledge. Now it is certain, the Understanding forms its images because they are spiritual, and that the Understanding only can produce them. The Ima∣gination must also produce hers; since there is no action which can be common to these two faculties, unless it be the production of images.

M. C. adds, That it would from thence follow, That the Imagination ought to make universal and

spiritual conceptions, since the Ʋnderstanding makes them. But I shall desire him to tell me whether he of a truth believes this Consequence which he draws from thence to be good: The Ʋnderstanding forms images; Therefore the Imagination forms spiritual images. For I did not say, The Understanding forms spiritual images; but I shewed, That it forms its images because they are spiritual. This is called in the Schools. To argue from things call'd simply to those which are conditional; or from those which are divided, to those which are conjoined. But let us to another Subject, which perhaps may be more for his advantage.

CHAP. III. The Imagination represents not only the Accident, but also their Subject.

HAving a design to shew, That the Imagination forms not the Accidents only, but she makes somewhat of their Subject also enter; and that its phantasm is not a Representation by the example of Colour, but of what is coloured; nor of Heat, but of what is hot; in a word, That all sensible Accidents are therein represented per modum con∣creti, as they speak in the Schools. The first Reason which I brought, is. That the Imagination is a power buried in the Matter, which ought to have an object of the same gender, and an action which terminates it self in something which in some

manner is composed as that is. M. C. finds this reason very strange, and answers, That the Ima∣gination is no more buried in the Matter then the Accidents which we give for its object, and that they are as composed as she is. But if he speaks this in earnest, we are both agreed; and he must with me confess, That the Imagination being a Faculty in the Matter, the Colour which is represented is also a Quality in the Matter: And I will have nothing else, but that what is hot, which is a heat in the Matter, is represented by the Imagination, and not the Heat by it self. Yet it doth not seem it is at that point he means to stick: For he opposeth against us, That a man cannot give the Imagination an object which is of the same gender, nor which is composed as she is, unless it be a pure Accident; since the Imagination is a Faculty, and that the Fa∣culty is a pure Accident, as we have said in the Dis∣course of Instinct, pag. 9.

This objection is captious; and I make an Ap∣peal here to M.C. his sincerity, to know whether it be allowed in good Logick to change the sense of the Terms of which we were agreed. The que∣stion here is concerning Physical Accidents which cannot be separated from the Matter; and he gives us the change in Metaphysical Accidents, which subsist only in the Understanding. It's true, that when we examined what the essential difference of Man was, we said, That the Faculty of Reasoning could not be it, because it is a pure Accident, and that the difference of Man ought to be a Substance. Now he cannot disavow, but that the search of essential differences is from the securing of the

Metaphysicks, and that the Faculty ought to be no otherwise considered but in Physick. So that he unprofitably labours to ruine what we have now established for what we said in that place. We consider here the Imagination as a Faculty which operates: Now it cannot operate without Matter which serves for its organ. It cannot there∣fore be conceived but in the Matter, and by con∣sequence it must have an Object which must be material, and an Action which terminates at some∣thing which must be as that is composed.

But what says he? The Imagination is no more material then the external Senses, which nevertheless know the Accidents only.

I could hereupon answer him, That he supposeth what is in question: For in no part of his Work hath he proved, that the external Senses know Ac∣cidents only. But as it is not his mind to establish any thing, I shall content my self to demand of him whether by the external senses he means the organs of the senses, or the faculty which is in those organs. For if they are only the organs, the external senses do not know; If it be the sensitive faculty, it must operate, and consequently form its image. Now this Image represents somewhat besides the Acci∣dents, as we pretend to have shewed.

The Imagination represents things all entire.

The second Reason I brought in confirmation of this truth, is grounded on that fair observation, which some have made on the same subject I now treat; to wit, that there are two orders of things in the Universe, the one of which in the first inten∣tion

of Nature were made to be absolute, the o∣thers were destined to represent them. In this latter order are the knowing Faculties; for they have no other vertue but to know, and cannot know but by representing the things; it's what Aristotle said, speaking of the Understanding. That it had no o∣ther Nature but that of being potentially 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. That is, to be able to make and to be made all things wherein the representation consists. Hence we con∣cluded, That if these Faculties are destined to re∣present things, they must represent them all entire, and such as they are; otherwise it were not to re∣present them: Even as a man would never say that a Painter had made the picture of a man, had he painted onely the Eyes or the Mouth. In effect, as the Members of this division relate the one to the other, since the first compeehends all what is abso∣lutely, the other must have the same extent, so that the knowing Faculties represent all things which are absolute; now thus to represent them, is to repre∣sent them all entire. So the Imagination which is de∣stined to know sensible and corporeal things, ought to represent them such as they are; that is to say, as sensible and corporeal, and because they are not corporeal without matter, it necessarily ought to re∣present them to its self with its matter. And conse∣quently, the Images it makes, represent not onely the accidents, but even the subject which sustains them. Its true, that its representation is not exact, that it distinguisheth not the subject from the acci∣dents, and that it represents them but confusedly; but it is sufficient to say, It knows it. And the order

which Nature holds in all things; would that the knowledge of the Imagination should not be the most perfect, and that it should be but the begin∣ning, and as it were, the first Essay to attain the perfection of that which the Understanding was to form.

M. C. imploys several Answers to invalidate the force of Raciocination; and although at first he seem only to sport and divert himself, yet that he might not be reproached, not to have been serious e∣nough in so important a matter: I shall treat with him as if he had beleeved of a truth, That if the Imagination being the representative of things, ought to represent them all entire; it follows that the picture which is also the representative of things, ought to represent them all entire, and when she was to make the picture of a man, it must paint his Soul and his most hidden Faculties.

I grant him not onely, that the Picture represents the thing all entire, for that unless it were entire, it were not the thing it ought to represent. But it follows not from thence, that the picture ought to represent the Soul and the Faculties of man, for∣asmuch as that makes no part of what it ought to represent. If he had shewed, that the picture ought truly to have represented man, certainly it were ob∣liged to paint his soul and his body, since man is composed of them both. And if we say that it re∣presents man, it is but by accident, and because the understanding supplies the deficiencie; the Nature of Man representing to him that which Art furnish∣eth him withall only in figure. It is not so with the knowing Faculties, which are as the Natural pictures

of all things; and which by an Art, if we may so say, more excellent then all those which Men have invented, have the power to represent the very sub∣stance of their objects.

The defect then which is in M. C. his Conse∣quence, comes from that he takes the word of Things in the general signification, although I have restrained it to a certain gender; and as the Lo∣gicians speak, he changeth the Supposition, and from a Term which is distributed, he makes a Distributive. But not to weigh too exactly what he spoke but in raillery, let us observe his other Answers which explicate his true sentiments.

The Nature of the Imagination is altogether Representative.

He says, That the Imagination moves the Appe∣tite; and therefore that its Nature is not altogether Representative. And I deny this Consequence, although I agree with him in the Antecedent. For the Imagination moves not the Appetite, but by representing unto it those things to which it ought to bear it self. And to speak properly, it is not moved, it is rather that which moves it self in pur∣suit of the Judgment it makes. As for the vertues which M.C. gives it, by which he pretends That in Nature is not at all representative, we have already answered this objection, pag. 22. As well as to what he adds, That the Nature of the external Senses is as much or more representative as the Ima∣gination: For if by the external Senses he under∣stand the Sensitive faculty which is in the Organs,

it is not more nor less representative then the Ima∣gination, since its the same thing. He might re∣member that I had expressly marked, That by the word Imagination I comprehended all the powers of the Sensitive soul which form Knowledge. For although the sense of that word have not in com∣mon discourse so large an extent as I have given it, yet after I had explicated it clearly enough, there remained nothing of an Equivoke: And since the question is of things, and not of words, which serve only but as they are valued, M. C. ought rather to have comprehended the thing of which I spake, then to have poposed his gainsayings.

At last he objects against us, That the visible Species are more repre∣sentative then the Imagination; and that she represents the Objects more perfectly then the Phantasm which is in the Memory: It is what he should have proved. For if he supposeth that the Imagination represents not the Subject of the Ac∣cidents, he supposeth what is in question: And if he will confess that she doth represent them, he must also confess that the Phantasm represents the things more imperfectly then the visible. Species, since they represent only the Accidents, and that represents the Accidents and the Subject together. On the other side, the word [To represent] is taken actively, when we imploy it about the Ima∣gination, and signifies the same with Making the picture. Now if this be so, the Species represent it not in that sense, since they make not the pictures, and that themselves are the pictures of things. And

therefore M. C. deceives himself, when he would compare them with the Imagination which makes the pictures and images of things; That if he will compare them only with the Phantasm, he must abandon the one half of his Proposition; and for the rest, he must save himself from the Dilemma we have now made him.

The third Reason we made use of to shew that the Imagination re∣presents somewhat besides the Ac∣cidents, is, That if in some manner it do not represent the substance of the objects, the Understanding would finde no ground for those Knowledges in the Phantasm it represents. For, after having separated all Acci∣dents from it, there would remain nothing where∣upon it could form the Idea of its Substance. Whereupon M. C. says, That I should have added, That the Ʋnderstanding could not know universal things, did not the Phantasm represent the Ʋniver∣sality; neither would it know Man, did not the Imagination form a spiritual Image of his soul. I am much obliged to him for the advice he gives me: But the Laws of Logick defend me the use thereof, and teach me, That when a man changeth the Terms of a Proposition which he would bring to an Absurdity, he labours in vain, and can con∣clude nothing at all. Seeing I had said, that the Understanding would have nothing whereupon to form the Idea of its substance, did not the phantasm in some fort represent the substance; All what M. C. could legitimately infer, was, That the Understanding could have nothing on which it

could form the Idea of universal things, did not the phantasme in some sort represent unto it universal things. And then, although the Consequences which are drawn from the first intentions to the second are commonly captious; yet I should freely have consented herein, without fearing any incon∣venience; because that I can maintain, That uni∣versal Natures are all in every of their Individuals not formally and precisely, as they say, but never∣theless really. So that in this sense it being true, that the phantasm may represent such an Animal; it may also in some manner represent the universal Nature of that Animal. But I will not engage my self in the Combats which the Schools make on this subject: And that I may no longer contest with M. C. I shall grant, That the Understanding knowes things which are not represented in the phantasms; and that by means of the Discourse he makes, and the Consequences he deduceth, he discovers in the objects of Natures and Vertues, whereof the Ima∣gination gives him no notice. But it follows not from thence, that it knows all things after the same manner. Besides these Knowledges which are ob∣lique, there are those which are direct and intuitive, whereby it sees and knows things as they are re∣presented by the Senses. And did not the phantasms express it, it could never attain to the knowledge of them by the way of Knowledge.

If this be thus, as no man need doubt, M. C. can draw no advantage from what he hath opposed. For were it true, that the Understanding knew

Universal and Spiritual things without the help of the Imagination, it will not from thence follow, That he did know the Substance; of which we have spoken in the same manner, since there is an∣o••her kind of Knowledge whereby it may know it. In effect the Imagination conceiveth what is hot, what is animated: And there is no likelihood when a Beast sees another Animal, that it conceives only the colour, the figure, and the motion which it perceiveth therein; but it conceiveth somewhat which hath all those Accidents. And this cannot but be the Substance, which in Man serves for the Object to the direct knowledge of the Under∣standing. For in separating all the Accidents which the Imagination confounded, he at last discovers that thing which is void of those Accidents. So that a man cannot say he doth it afresh, no more then he who finds a Treasure, makes the Treasure by digging the earth and putting by what hid it. In pursuit of this discovery, the Understanding imploys its oblique knowledges, and by several re∣lations and divers inductions which it makes, he adds to this Substance other Notions which were not truly represented in the phantasme, as Uni∣versality, Spirituality, and the like.

But this is not the place where we are to examine this Subject: And without troubling our selves to establish our Reasons, it will be sufficient to shew that those which M. C. hath made use of to de∣stroy them, hath been nothing to their pre∣judice.

For as for what he adds, That he knows not why I will not have the Ʋnderstanding know those things

which are not represented in the Phantasm. since I will have the Imagination should know the Substance without the help of external Senses and sensible Species: He makes me speak there as he pleaseth him self: Had he taken notice of my words, he would have found them quite contrary to what he said: And that I will have, That the Understand∣ing knows the things which are not represented in the Phantasm; And that I will not have the Ima∣gination know the Substance without the help of the Senses, and of the Sensible species. For al∣though I assured, That the Imagination forms it self its Phantasm; yet I have always said, that it form'd it on the Model of those sensible Species which are receiv'd through the organs of the Senses; And therefore it is not without their aid, as he would have that I had said. Yet I know that this is not the meaning which he gives to my words, neither will I stick at it. And I would only observe this Equivoque to make it be remembred, That those who undertake the Censure of other mens Works, ought to keep themselves on their guard, and not to expose themselves to the danger to be reprehended by those they would correct.

I see then well enough, the Reason which he would imploy against me, is, That if the Imagi∣nation may represent the Substance, the picture of which the sensible Species are not to make; the Ʋnderstanding, which is incomparably more knowing and more perfect, may also represent it without the Phantasms giving it any image thereof. But this objection is easily resolved, because we do not consider here the Understanding in it self and in its

pure nature, which may have such a power; and perhaps Souls separated may thus know corporal things: But we respect it in the state it is in us, and in its ordinary manner of acting, which requires the help of the inferior Faculties: Otherwise we might prove, That we had no need of eyes to see things, since a man might see them without, as Spirits do. 'Tis the Law which Nature imposeth to this sublime faculty. That at often as it is link'd to the Body, it ought to serve the Senses and the Imagination, and not anticipate that knowledge which they are to give it. And since they are de∣stined to representation in corporal things, it ought to expect the report they are to make and take in for the ground of their first knowledges. Now it is certain, they give in an accompt of the very sub∣stance of things, for that they cannot do otherwise, for those reasons which we have before recited. And certainly Nature should have been deceitful to have reduced all the Knowledge of Animals to exterior Accidents, and to have denied them that which was the most important for their preserva∣tion.

These are the greatest endeavours M. C. hath made against our First Part. For what he after∣wards adds is so weak, that there is nothing which can excuse it, but that he was at an end of his work, and that in all likelihood his mind was tired with the long labor he had undertaken.

In effect; On what we have said, That the Ima∣gination confounded the Accidents with their Sub∣ject; The only Reason he objects, is, That it is not true. For if he pretends to have sufficiently proved

it, Because the Imagination knows not the Subject, and that the Qualities serve not for marks to know them; It's what is in question, and consequently cannot pass for a proof.

As for the Experience I proposed, which at the first sight we have of visible Accidents; We do not only believe we see the Accidents, but the Bodies them∣selves wherein they are. He answers, That this ex∣perience is false, because (says he) the first sights or single conceptions can precede the affirmations and the reasonings, without which one cannot conclude nor know a Substance by means of an Accident. But to what purpose doth he speak here of Affirmations and Reasonings? in this encounter we will not have the Imagination reason or affirm any thing, nei∣ther is it by means of the Accident that it knows the Substance; at one sight it sees both, as it sees the colour and the figure. And when I say, That it be∣leeves it sees the subject of accidents, it is not by the reflection it makes on its first knowledge, but it is in its common way of speaking of such things as they think they certainly know. For when any ob∣ject presents it self to sight, it is true, we beleeve we see it, and we think we are not deceived in that knowledge which our eye affords us; and yet for all that, we cannot say we make any Affirmation, Conclusion or Reasoning. How ever it be, it im∣ports me or the truth but very little, that M. C. denys the experience which shall be confessed by all other men, so as they be not blind. And if we would consult with the most ignorant, who com∣monly are the most certain and most sincere Judges

we can chuse, for what concern the senses; they will all say, that when they see a stone, they do not onely see the colour and the figure, but the thing it self, which hath those qualities; it is not that at this first sight they destinguish it from its accidents, because the Imagination confounds them, and con∣ceives the one with the other; and if they come afterwards to distinguish them, it is the effect of their Reason, which separates what the Imagination had confounded.

But M. C. cannot comprehend That Reason se∣parates what the Imagination hath confounded; For, says he, if the Imagination forms an Idea of a differ∣ent substance from that of the accident, it must di∣stinguish them.

And I cannot also apprehend why he brings a proposition for a proof, which is contrary both to his sense and to mine. For he beleeves not that the Imagination can form an Idea of substance dif∣ferent from that of the Accidents, unless he would destroy all what he hath proposed. And for my part, I am so far from having had this thought, that I ever said, That the Imagination represented the accident and the substance confusedly, and there∣fore without any distinction. I confess that this re∣presentation is made on the model of the sensible species, which represent but the accidents onely. But the sensitive Faculty makes none of this di∣stinction, because it cannot make it without know∣ing, and that it cannot know without forming its fantasm. Now the fantasm ought necessarily to re∣present the accidents in concrete, that is to say, with the substance, as we have already proved and that

therefore it cannot distinguish the Substance from the Accident.

For the rest, the more easily to conceive this manner of operating, from which the Imagination cannot dispence it self, we must consider the art of casting of Statues; for although the Mould in which they are made be hollow, and that it can onely give that figure which is imprinted on it; nevertheless, the Statue forbears not to come out massy, and on an empty patern which hath but the superficies, the Founder makes a solid and flat work; the Imagi∣nation doth the same, since the sensible Species which bear the image of the Accidents only, it so forms its phantasm that with those accidents it com∣prehends the main and body it sustains.

To return to M C. the Hypothesis whereupon he grounds his conclusion is imaginary, and he can∣not save himself from the reproach which may be laid to him, to have imposed on me things I never said, or to have formed to himself Chimera's to fight withal.

In pursuit he demands How according to my prin∣ciples, the Ʋnderstanding can make this distinction, since the phantasm represents not the ground thereof, and that after having separated what was confound∣ed, nothing remains to make him know the destinction.

It were easie for me to Answer him, that the phantasm represented to the Understanding the ground of this distinction, since it represents two confused things, which might be separate, and that after it hath separated what was confused, the sepa∣rated things which remain make it know the di∣stinction; for the separation doth not really differ

from the things which are separated, no more then the motion from the things which are moved. But to cut off these vain subtilties which are destroyed by themselves if we would have the terms they are con∣ceived by, we in one word say, that this distinction is rank of those things which we have shewed in the may be known by the Understanding without being represented in the phantasms, for whether it be pro∣ved for the action it self it doth, or for a general notion it forms on that action, it is certain it can have no direct knowledge of it, and that it must reflect and reply on it self to know it.

These are the chief observations which M. C. hath made against the first part of my work, and which he hath placed at the end of his Book, to crown his Labour, and onely that he may have cause to tell me, That he hath ex∣amined all my Reasonings; but although there be nothing in all his work directly opposite to mine, having even sought to finish where he began, the whole is, to know whether he hath succeeded well or no, and whether he had reason to beleeve that his sixteenth Chapter should dispense him from stop∣ing at those things which I have here treated. For ny own part, after having seen the Title of his Book which promiseth to speak of the Knowledge of Animals, I think in some place he ought to have explicated what Knowledge was, and how it was to be made: And since he will not have them made Propositions nor Discourses, that at least he would satisfie these premises which obliged him to shew how they knew things; that is to say, how

how that simple conception is made, which he and all the world allows them; nevertheless, there is no one word of all that in his whole work; and that sixteenth Chapter which should have dispensed him from examining what I had said thereupon, speaks of nothing less then of that first Knowledge, and treats onely of Ratiocination; we must needs afterwards say, that passion hath altogether blind∣ed him, and taken from him the sight of those things which he ought most carefully to have exa∣mined. For this was the ground of all what both of us had to say, since both of us had a design to speak of the Knowledge of Beasts. And if I have well proved, that they know things by forming of their images. I have a great prejudge to con∣clude that they may both judge and reason. Since Judgment and Discourse are made by the union of images, which is not so difficult to make as their production. And if on the other side he had made it appear, that the first Knowledge was not formed after that manner, he without doubt had much shaken all the body of his proofs, and he would have vaunted to have overthrown one of the strongest Arch batteries of my work.

However it be, if he had had the true spirit of Philosophy, instead of seeking that little vanity which he had of saying, That there were none of my Reasons which he had not examined, and to speak in his sence, which he had not justled and com∣bated; be should have helped me exactly to have acknowledged those Truths of which I had made the first discoveries: He should in earnest have ap∣proved those things which were conformable to

reason, and have added afterwards his own light, which might have made me see what I did not per∣ceive. Finally, he should with some restraint have come to the censure of my Propositions, which are so glorious to the sovereign matter of the Universe, and which are more capable of putting into spirits the admiration of his bounty and of his magnifi∣cence then any other thing which is in nature; for if the soul can produce the images of things, and that it hath no other means to know them but that; who would not admire the wonderful fecundity which God hath given it? since as many times as it knows, as many times at it remembers the things it hath known, it must as many times produce those images, and consequently make an infinite number of them, without being tired in their production, and without draining the source it is drawn from: But if its also true, that it in such a manner produ∣ceth those Images that they not only represent the sensible Accidents, but also the bodies and sub∣stance of things, who cannot but be ravished with astonishment to find here below so perfect an A∣bridgment of the Divine almighty power, and to see that the soul in some manner created like a new world, and that it forms in it self all what God hath made in this visible world? After all this, if M.C. had not thought it fit, to have raised this Doctrine so high, he should at least have considered the splendor it was like to have given to all those diffi∣culties which are encountred on the nature and ope∣rations of the soul. For besides that, it makes it evidenly appear why repetition fortifies the Memo∣ry, why the Imagination can make no abstraction

nor reflection, nor consequently any Universal no∣tion; it serves for a foundation, and a prejudge to shew that the Understanding operates by shorter means and easier then those prescribed by the Schools, and that at Law it's a Faculty which is not tyed to the Matter, and which consequently is in the order of spiritual things.

If M.C. then had made any reflection thereupon, I doubt not but it would have obliged him to have weighed my reasons more justly then he hath done. And that the least favourable judgment I could have expected had been that, if my opinion were not true, yet it were very probable, and that it might have been placed in the ranck of those new Systemes of the world which the Astronomers have invented, which perhaps are no more certain then the former, but yet which the more readily give a reason of all the Phenomena's.

The End of the First Part.

That the Imagination can unite or divide the Images it hath formed.

Wherein the Judgment consists.

THE SECOND PART.

THere are four principal Reasons which we have made use of to prove that the Imagination can unite I∣mages.

The first is drawn from the Dreams which Animals have in their sleep; for as their Imagination doth then fi∣gure other things. besides those which the senses have represented, even as it happens in those of Men; It must necessarily dispose the Images which it hath produced in the Memory, after another manner, and order them otherwise then they were; and consequently, that they must unite some which were separated, and separate others which were joyned together

The second is taken from the Diseases which trouble their Knowledge and their Judgment: For we cannot doubt but that in that estate they repre∣sent the things quite otherwise then the Senses and the Memory make them known, and that they mistake the little for great, and the good for evil things, &c. Which cannot be done but by the mixture which the Imagination makes of Images against the natural order which they ought to keep.

The third is evident in Birds which learn to speak, which continually trouble the sequel of the words which they have learnt: For there is no man but will infer from thence, but that the Images of the things which they keep in their Memory may mixe themselves, and that their Imagination is able to unite them, and to to join them together at pleasure.

The last is, That the presence of good or ill makes them remember what they formerly have had, and makes them fear or hope the like. Which would never happen, did not the Imagination unite the present things with those past and future.

From this Truth thus established, we concluded, That the Imagination could make Affirmative pro∣positions as well as the Understanding. For when it judgeth that an Aliment is good, it doth nothing but unite the Idea of Good with that of the Ali∣ment. And therefore since the Imagination can form the same Images and unite them together, it may make, as it doth, Affirmative propositions. And indeed, since all the World is agreed, That

Beasts judge whether things are good or ill for them: It is certain that they cannot make this Judgment, without uniting the Images which they had form'd thereof. Now in uniting them, they must make Affirmative propositions even as they make Negatives, when they separate them the one from the other; it being true, That if they can unite, they can also divide them.

CHAP. I. That the Imagination makes Affirmative Propositions.

I Here expected the Examen of a Philosopher, and I do not so much as find the Artifice of an Orator, who dissembles those Reasons which sol∣licit him, and passeth over them as if they did not deserve that he should stop at them and as if they were not worthy of him who propounded them; for these are the very words M. C. useth against me. After he had said, that I had strongly obliged my self to have proved the Proposition I had advanced, he would have wrought wonders in favour of the common opinion. But I would fain know what he would have done, had I well proved them; would he have confuted my reasons? Without doubt he ought not to have done it, unless he would have combated the Truth. This was the place wherein he ought to have exercised it, since he did believe my proofs were invalid: And not having done it,

he gives me cause to believe that he thinks ill all what he would nor examine, and that all what he hath examined is not ill; and so that there are but few things in my Work but are good, since there are so few which have escaped his Censure.

However it be, I think it's fit to see whether my proof be so bad as he speaks it to be: For I have not only thought it worthy of me, which were a very slight commendation, but I have believed it's more solid and more evident then any he could produce. If indeed it be true, That to make Af∣firmative propositions, the images are but to be join'd and united which are to compose them, as the Schools are of opinion; I thought it had been a necessary consequence, That the Imagination was able to make those propositions, if it could unite the images it form'd. And I imagined, that without obliging my self any further to prove so certain and evident a Consequence, it had been sufficient to shew, That the Imagination could unite its images. And so all the question may be reduced to this point, To know whether the Reasons I had propounded did well establish this Truth? M. C. who denies it, without doubt was never acquainted with the force thereof. For although at first it seem to prove nothing, but that the images unite themselves in the soul, without saying that they unite them∣selves by themselves, or whether it be the Imagi∣nation which unites them: yet if a man would but remember the foundation which I believe I have solidly laid, That the Imagination knows nothing, but it forms the image thereof; a man will be ob∣liged to confess, That it represents nothing to it

self in dreams, in sickness, and in the repetition of things which are taught Animals, but that it also forms the images thereof; because it's evident, that in these encounters it knows in the same manner as in the others. Now if it forms these images it self, and that disposeth them after another manner then they are in the Memory, it's certain that it assem∣bles them together, and that consequently it makes Affirmative propositions.

Whence the confusion of Thoughts comes in Dreams and in Sickness.

M. C. says thereupon, That it conceives these things united; and that the confusion in them is not in the Imagination, but in as much as it is in the phantasmes wherewith the Memory furnisheth it. But if this be true, how can it be possible that those images which are confounded in ones sleep, should so easily reduce themselves into their order after one awakes? How after the long agitation of a sickness, which hath embroil'd and mix'd them with so much disorder, could they reduce them∣selves again into their rank, and into the firm order wherein they were? If M. C. had taken care of this, he would have believed as we do, That the confusion comes not from the phantasmes which are in the Memory, but from the Imagination only; which in the continual motion it is, casts it self on several images, the one separated from the other, without changing the sequel and natural disposition which they have together. It's just like a Ball, which by the several bounds it makes, falls on

several squares; for its fall changeth not the order; and although it falls sooner upon the one then upon the other, yet they still remain in the same scitu∣ation in which they were plac'd. So the Imagina∣tion which can never be at rest, and which is always agitated, falls on several images of the Memory, and forms thereupon the dreams and the chimera's wherewith it entertains it self being asleep. But the natural order of the figures whereon she hath wrought, suffers no change; and when a man is awakened, the soul finds them in the same dispo∣sition they were before. The same thing happens in those sicknesses which offend the Judgment: and there is no difference, but that in dreams the Imagination commonly agitates it self without be∣ing sollicited by any external cause; and here it is carried away by the tempest which is in the spirits and in the humors, the violence whereof is so great, that without being able to stop at what the senses represent it withall, it runs here and there towards those images which are in the Memory, and makes a confusion of all the images it encounters; but when the storm is over, all is found in the same condition it was, and the Images which are in the Memory have chang'd place no more then the Isles and Rocks in the sea suffer in a storm.

If this be so, the Imagination which alone makes confusion in these encounters, assembles the images it hath found, and so unites them that they make a link and sequence together as is necessary to pro∣duce dreams and extravagancies, which are observ'd in diseases: And then there is no difference be∣twixt the union it makes, with that the Understand∣ing

makes, when it joins one Idea with another to make an Affirmative proposition.

The Imagination can add an Est and a Non est to the Terms it unites.

M.C. (p. 241.) oppugns us, That it is not in the power of the Imagination to add an Est or a Non est betwixt two Terms; so that it cannot deny, nor af∣firm any thing, nor consequently make any Pro∣position.

But if it cannot make use of the Verb Est, it will not follow that it cannot make Propositions, be∣cause there are some wherein it is not used, as al∣most all those are which consist of two terms only, which the Schools call by Secundo Adjacente. For when we say, That an Animal runs, that he flies, &c. these are perfect Propositions, wherein the Verb Est is not to be found. And although they say that they are reduced to the form of others in putting the Participle in stead of a Verb; yet as this manner of speech is not natural, it's a sign that the phantasm represents not the thing naturally as it is. Indeed, of a thousand persons which will say, The creature runs, there will not be two but will believe that by those words they understand that the beast is running, And those Philosophers which Aristotle quotes in his Physicks, who would not use the Verb Est in their discourse, could not but believe that these Propositions were equivalent.

But it is not here where we would stick. We must observe what M.C. his thought is when he says, The Imagination cannot add the Verb Est to

the Notions it makes. Doth he understand the word, or the thing which is signified by it? If it be the word, I grant that Beasts use it not, because their language is natural, and that that Verb is a Term of Institution agreed upon amongst Men. But it follows not from thence, That Mens imagination cannot imploy it, since the word explicates the thoughts of the Imagination, as well as those of the Understanding. If he understand the thing which is signified by the word, he must observe whether the Imagination is capable of forming it: For if it hath that power, it may then add the Verb Est: And if Beasts communicate their thoughts, they must have some Accent which must have the same force with that word of which we speak.

All who have spoken of this Verb, not omitting Fracastor, who is M. C. his great Doctor for matter of Knowledge, say, That it's an exterior sign, whereby men observe the union or the division which the Understanding makes a∣mongst Images. And certainly, since words are the signs of the thoughts, that word which enters into propositions cannot be useless, but must mark something which is in the thoughts. Now there is nothing in the interior proposition which the Understanding makes, to which the Verb Est is answerable, but the union or the division of the Images; And therefore it is true, That this union or division is the thing which is signified by it. If this be so, all the difficulty is reduced to this point, To know whether the Imagination is capa∣ble to unite images? For if she can unite them, she

doth the thing which is signified by the Verb Est. And as the Understanding by uniting the Idea of Good with that of Aliment, doth all what is ne∣cessary to say, That the Aliment is good: If it be true, that the Imagination can make such like an Union which it would express by language, it would have the same foundation as that hath, to say, That the thing is such as it conceiveth it; since the word Est signifies nothing else but the union of images. Now in my opinion, whatsoever M. C. thinks, we have demonstrated, That the Imagina∣tion unites images, and therefore that it makes propositions.

The Imagination may add Images to those of its Object.

All what M.C. produceth to destroy this Truth, is, That a material Faculty cannot add any thing to its object; That the Verb Est is not amongst the species which come from without; and that to mixe it with the Terms, it marks a doubling in the Know∣ledge, and somewhat which comes very near Reflexion. For my part, I conceive not the sense he gives the last words; for according to the common way of speaking, a Doubling in the Knowledge is a Re∣flexion. Neither can I apprehend how a Reflexion comes very near a Reflexion, since it must be a Re∣flexion which were not a Reflexion. But I should have too much to do, should I stick at the way of speech which he useth: Let's only say, That the word Thing which he useth, hath too floating a signification to induce us to what he pretends. It's

true, that the Imagination cannot add any thing to its object, if by that word we understand any Nature; but it may add conditions and modifications there∣unto. Union is not an absolute Nature, 'tis but a Modification, which is not really different from those things which unite themselves. And this sur∣passeth not the force of the Imagination, no more then the rest of the actions it doth; for Union is the action of the Imagination, as well as the first Conception. And if it were true, That Ʋnion were above its power, because it is not comprehended in those species which come from without: By the same reason, the first Conception and all other Know∣ledge would also be beyond its power, since it is no more comprised in the Species, then the Union.

What he adds of Reflexion, is to no purpose: For the Imagination ought not to be more oblig'd to make reflexion, when it knows the images with the union which it gives them, then the Under∣standing which makes none in the like encounters. Otherwise it must needs be, That it could never form direct Judgments nor Affirmations without Reflexions, which are unheard of things in the Schools. For although he says. That in all Affir∣mation there is a Reflexion of the Mind made on the Knowledge of the Senses; forasmuch as if we did only know the Species, without knowing the Reception, we could never affirm any thing: It is certain, that this Reason combats Experience; most part of men affirming things, without knowing whether they have received the species thereof, having never heard speak of them, and knowing them not at all.

For the rest, I dare not say that M.C. deceived himself herein, attributing to the Imagination all what the Understanding is able to do on the union of images; believing, that as the Understanding may make a reflexion on its action, and form a notion of the Verb Est altogether distinct and se∣parate from that of the terms, the Imagination ought also to do as much, if it can make propo∣sitions. No, I have too great an opinion of his sufficiencie, to have that thought: But I imagine that he would try by those objections he hath made, whether I had any knowledge of the School-subtilties. And therein truly I shall ingenuously confess that I am but little versed, as in all other things; and that 'tis an unhappiness both for him and me, that I know no more of them: For that without doubt there are many places in his Work, wherein I have not observed the hidden artifice, and consequently whereunto I could not employ the subtiling of my spirit.

CHAP. II. That the Imagination can make Nega∣tive Propositions.

WHat follows, is perhaps of the same rank: For I understand neither the force, nor the address of the reasons he produceth to shew, that the Imagination makes no Negative propositions; although that were a Subject which might furnish him with quantity of fair observations, and wherein he might exercise all the Niceties of his Logick. In the mean time he contents himself to say, That the Imagination makes no Negations, and knows them not, because in effect they are nothing; and that they cannot furnish images to make themselves known. Could he be ignorant, and did he think that I did not my self know, that Negation may be considered two ways: Directly, carrying our thoughts out∣right on the absence and the privation which is on the subject; and obliquely in considering the sub∣ject deprived of such a thing, and which is not such a thing. We are agreed, that the direct Negation is a Non ens, and is in effect Nothing; and the Understanding only can conceive it, because it re∣quires a most subtile abstraction, and an exact re∣flexion on the Knowledge. But we also hold, that the Subject which hath not any thing, is truly de∣prived of the thing which it hath not; and that after that manner the Imagination may make a Negation. For even as he who kills a man, makes

that the Man is no more, although he doth not directly make the Negation of the Man: So the Imagination separating those images which make a whole, makes that that whole is no more.

On the other side, as all these things are made of themselves, or accidentally, the Negation which the Knowing faculties form is made only by acci∣dent, because no action can be precisely terminated in a Non ens. For he that kills, gives the blow; and the loss of life comes by accident in pursuance of the blow: So the Imagination separates the images; and to this separation, which is a real and true action, happens the Negation.

How the Negation may be represented by the Imagination.

But M. C. says, (p. 142.) That the Negation, whatever it be, cannot furnish any Image to make it self known. We have already answered this ob∣jection: For if the word Image signifies only the representation of an absolute thing, it's true that the Negation furnisheth no image to make it self known: But if it comprehends the Modification of images, as is not to be doubted, it's certain that the Negation furnisheth an image at least to make it self known by Accident; forasmuch as the sepa∣ration which is a modification of images, is repre∣sented in the images; and that by this separation the thing is no more what it was before in the thought. So that even as the Imagination makes Affirmative propositions when it unites the phan∣tasms, it must also make Negatives, if it can sepa∣rate

them. And as it imploys the word Est to mark the union of images, it hath also some exterior sign which designs the separation it makes of them, and then it expresseth them by the term Non est, or by some other which is equivalent.

Nothing remains then, but for us to shew M.C. That the Imagination separates Images. But what means is there to make a man see any thing, that shuts his eyes, and who would not so much as be∣lieve them when they should be made known? All the Reasons we have deduced have the same evi∣dence for the separation of images, as they have for their union. And since it is certain, that in Dreams and Sicknesses the Imagination assembles phantasms which are not of the same order; To assemble them, she first of all must separate those with which there was a natural tye. Yet will not M.C. con∣sent to this truth, as cleer and evident as it is. And he says, That to perswade him, I must imploy Reasons like those I use to prove, That the Imagination knows the substance of objects. I am very glad that M.C. who is so serious, would sport himself here. He must also give me leave to say, That he might do it more modestly then he hath done: For in stead of playing upon me, he offends me; and instead of using raillery, he wrongs me. Were I to revenge my self, I should only answer, That since he did not apprehend the Reasons he speaks of, it had been useless for me to have produced the like: But as there is a great appearance that he will be now better instructed than he was then, and that the confusion he will be in to have used me so un∣worthily, is revenge enough for me; I shall con∣tent

my self to assure him, that I have not only taken the leisure, but also care to examine the Reasons he condemns, and that others as judicious as himself have approved them; And that for his reputation it had been to have been wished, that he himself had not had the leisure to have examined them. For, had he been contented with what he had said here, He could have made those believe which had net the commodity of reading them, that they were as strange as he imagined them. But the passion he hath to leave nothing uncontradicted, by which he had finish'd his work, hath in the Ad∣dition made it appear, that he understood them not. And I am confident that this happened through his fault, and none of mine.

After all this, could I not have shewn that the Imagination makes Negative propositions, it were indifferent for the design I had to prove, That Animals reason. It's sufficient that she makes Af∣firmatives to infer what I pretend, as we shall see in the pursuit. I had made it appear in my first Discourse, That I built no foundation on the proof which I might draw from Negative propositions, speaking thereof but by the way, and with that briefness which the Examen of those things re∣quired, which are quite contrary to those of which hath been amply treated. So that without forsaking the opinion I have of these Propositions, I shall grant M.C. that I have not well established them, so as he will confess that he hath not sufficiently destroyed them; And should he have succeeded, that it would nothing prejudice the Right which I defend.

How Beasts judge of Things.

But let us conclude this troublesom Discourse by the address which he useth to shew. That Beasts judge not whether things are good or ill unto them. For he will have it pass for an authentique proof, (p. 143.) The sense of most part of Philosophers, who believe they judge of nothing; and that they know the things which are good for them by simple conceptions, without affirming that they are good. And indeed, if he could oblige me to admit for the Judges of a Dispute, those who are my Adversaries, he would have found a good Expedient to have gain'd his Cause. I know that it is the common opinion, and that the School teacheth, That the Imagination is not said to compose, but in that it considers two images at once, as he says. But these are Judges or interessed Witnesses which I refuse in this cause. Were it to be decided by Authority, M. C's. would alone of it self have as much power over me, as that of all the Philosophers which he quotes. And where it is not necessary to produce Reasons, I shall as willingly follow his opinion, as that of all the Schools. But here we must of necessity: And 'tis not sufficient to say, That Beasts judge of no∣thing; It must be proved by some Reasons which at least must be probable, and must not subject us to the tyranny of these Philosophers, who have no other motive to believe things, but that their Master said it.

But M. C. would have us believe from his bare word, That Beasts judge not of the objects of their

Appetite, but as the External senses judge, That an Odor is good or ill; that Fire burns; that Honey is sweet, and Wormwood bitter; without its being ne∣cessary to know those things, for the tongue to say, This is sweet, and this is bitter.

First he confounds those Knowledges which are altogether different: For the Senses know after another manner, that Honey is sweet, and Worm∣wood bitter, then they do that Fire burns, and that a Smell doth good or ill. And I shall always grant, that Beasts judge not of the objects of their Appe∣tite, but as the Senses know that Fire burns, or that an Odor is ill. But at the same time I shall deny, that they judge of the objects of their Appetite in the same manner, as the Taste judgeth of the sweet∣ness of Honey, and bitterness of Wormwood. For the Sense may by a simple conception judge of the sweetness of Honey, for as much as it is the proper and immediate object of the Taste; and that it is not always necessary that the Imagination should make a progress from one thing to another: But when it judgeth that the Fire burns, it passeth not only from the cause to the effect, but it adds also one Image which is not sensible, to one which is; by judging that Burning is evil, which is an Image which the Senses furnish it not withall: since to be good or ill, useful or useless, are such things which know per species non sensatas, as the School saith, and which require, besides the judgment of the Senses, that of the Estimative faculty.

But I say yet more; To make this Judgment, Reason is often imployed therein: For when an Animal sees the Fire, and that he will not come neer

it for fear of being burnt by it, he must have prov'd that 'tis the effect of Fire to burn, and remember the evil which formerly it had done unto him; and consequently he must unite the image of the burning, and the ill which he received thereby, with that of the present object, and that of the ill which he apprehends therefrom: Which could not be done without discourse, as we shall shew here∣after.

Besides, what need had he to adde, That to know things, it was not necessary for the tongue to say, This is sweet, and this is bitter? Doth he believe Propo∣sitions may not be made without speaking; and that the judgments which the soul makes in it self without expressing it by language, are not true judgments? If that were so, Dumb persons would be more unhappy then we think them to be, since they should not only have lost their speech, but even their judgment and their reason. However it be, it is not the Tongue which makes propositions, it's the Faculty of the Soul, and words are but their images and the copies of them.

But perhaps M. C. would have said the same thing, but that his tongue (as they say) went before his thought: For it's very probable, that in stead of saying, That when the Sense judgeth of the sweetness of Honey, and bitterness of Wormwood, it is not necessary to know these things, that the Imagination should conceive that this is sweet, and that is bitter, since it knows those objects by a pri∣mary and simple conception; he hath also written unawares, That it's not necessary the Tongue should speak it. For my part, who intend to deal candidly

with him, I shall quit the advantage those words have given me, and grant, That it's true, that when the Senses know their objects by a simple concepti∣on, the Imagination makes no propositions, because it then makes no union, and that the things present themselves unto it altogether united. But that is not to say, that it always represents them so, and that it often knows them not the one after the o∣ther: For an Animal may see Honey, without knowing that it's sweet; and after he knows the sweetness thereof, he may unite the image of Sweet with that of Honey, in which case without question a proposition is made. And truly it's impossible to conceive the active and moving nature of this Fa∣culty, without observing how at the same time it passeth from one thing to another; and having the power to preserve the images, it at the same time at pleasure assembles and separates them.

I add this word to undeceive M.C. who (p. 140) believed the Choice and Liberty was important; for our tongue commonly useth it as well as that of Will to mark the actions which Animals make of their own proper motions. So they say, that a Beast goes whither it will, that it eats what it pleas∣eth, &c. And in this sense there is no inconveni∣ence, That the Imagination unites the images as it pleaseth.

But it is the custom of M. C. Critically to amuse himself on words, and to give them what explication he pleaseth, as he doth here, and as he once did on the word of a Negative Abstraction. For on what I had said, That the Imagination could conceive an

Accident without taking heed of others, and that it was called a Negative Abstraction, he says, That that may be done without a Negation, and that 'tis not to speak according to the terms of Art to call it so.

But besides that, after I had explicated my self what I understood by that word, and that it was lawful for me to call it what I would, I could answer him, That he makes me suspect that all terms of Art are not known to him, and that he hath never heard of certain things which the Schools say are every way Negatively. Or this term, as well as that of Negative Abstraction, although it imports not a direct Negation, yet it marks an oblique and in∣direct one. In effect, when we say that the Imagi∣nation conceives one thing, without taking notice of another, we indirectly design the Negation of the things which we minded not.

But let us forbear these Whimsies, and ask M.C. if after we have made the defects of the objections he hath produced appear, he will believe, That there was any temerity in me to maintain, That the Ima∣gination of Beasts makes Propositions. And if he fears not left this reproach should justly fall on him, having made so much noise, and to so little purpose, when he would triumph after having so ill defended himself; Certainly if he succeed not better here∣after, I well perceive that he will have a great share of the glory I shall have to have shewed, That Beasts reason; the weakness of his Discourse being at capable to perswade this Truth, as is the force of mine.

The End of the Second Part.

That the Imagination can unite divers Prop••sitions, And out of them make Discourses.

THE THIRD PART.

AS the Proposition is gathering to∣gether of divers simple Concepti∣ons; Discourse also is of divers Propositions which are tyed together by common terms; so that if the Imagination can make Propositi∣ons, it is a great prejudication that it may also make Discourses; supposing that it may use common terms to link them together. After having therefore shewed in the precedent Chapter, that she can make Proposi∣tions, we must now prove how she can use those com∣mon terms for from thence it will necessarily follow that she can reason and pass from a more known thing to that which is less, so that the knowledge of the first is the cause of that it acquires afterwards;

wherein we will have the Nature of Ratiocination to consist.

To this purpose we have made it ap∣pear, that when divers images united themselves in the Soul, they do not so confound themselves but that they still keep their Natural distinction, and that therein they are like the visible Species, which unite themselves in the air without confusion, and gather themselves again, if we may so say, even to a point without breaking the order and the natural distinction which they have. So that to speak properly, the ima∣gination rather joyns the fantasms, then unites them; for she ranks and placeth them without mixing them, assembles them without confounding them, and making a whole of divers different parts, it leaves every one in its order, and in its particular deter∣mination; this being presupposed, since the Imagina∣tion, even by the consent of our advirsaries may con∣sider one accident of a thing without heeding the rest, and may stop at what is sweet, without mind∣ing what is white. It may al∣so consider what is white, without thinking on what is sweet. And consequently she may separately know all the Images which are united and joyned together. Now if she can unite two dif∣ferent Images, as we have shewed, she may resemble those she had separately conceived, and form as many several Propositions as she can make several unions, since the Proposition is nothing else but the union it makes of two simple conceptions: For having con∣ceived a thing which is white, soft, sweet, and good

to eat; she may stop at the white, at the soft, at the sweet, at the good to eat, without considering them all together; and in the power she hath to unite Images, she may also assemble the white with the soft, and the soft with the sweet, and the sweet with what is good to eat, and in pursuit joyn the former with the latter, there being no more reason why she should unite the white with the soft, then the white with that which is good to eat. In a word, she may make as many Propositions, and afterwards return on her first Notion, to unite it with the last, in which the Nature of Reasoning consists, as we shall more amply shew hereafter.

Now if she be capable of these actions, she with∣out doubt forms a Discourse which we call Gradati∣on, and even a perfect Syllogism▪ if we cut off one Proposition, as it often happens; For she makes three Pro∣positions. The first of which is linked to the second by a common term; to wit, the sweet, and the last with the two others by that of white, and by that of good to eat, as may be here seen:

This White is Sweet; This Sweet is good to eat, Then is this white good to eat.

But besides the concatenati∣on of these Propositions if it were belonging to the essence of Rati∣ocination to pass from a known thing to one unknown; it is certain, that the Imagination makes the same pro∣gress

in these encounters, for it instantly knows not that this White is good to eat but only after it knows that it is sweet, and that what's Sweet is good to eat: In effect, when a Dog sees a white thing, although he may come to it to eat it yet he eats it not till he hath first smelt and tasted it, which is an evident sign that he doth not certainly know that this white thing is good to eat, untill he pass over the other qualities which give him a perfect knowledge thereof; and certainly if a man would consider the different connection which sensible accidents have with the nature of the things, and that the savour for example hath more with the goodness of aliments, then the odor or the colour, he will be obliged to confess that of necessity the Imagi∣nation must often pass from a known thing to that which is less so, and consequently that she makes se∣veral judgments which have the same concatenation and progress which the true Syllogismes require, and which make her know these things she was unassured of by others, which are more evident.

The Reason which we have here somewhat more ex∣tended then it was in our former Discourse hath been confined by the several Experiments which reign almost in all the actions of Animals.

The first Experiment is this, A Dog would eat somewhat which is hung on high, he considers it barks for it, turns and leaps at it, without getting it; at last he observes a place raised up whereby he may rise to another, and thereby at last he may catch what he de∣sires. I say this cannot be done, but he must joyn the phantasm of the place where he is with that of the first step, and that with the latter and in pursuit with the thing which he would have: And that all this would

be useless unto him, did he not reassemble the first No∣tion with the last. Since it is by that latter action that he knows the thing which he had before judged to be impossible was no more so. And therefore as this gathering together could not be made without joyning several Propositions with common terms, and without passing from a more known thing to one which was less, so there must necessarily therein be a true Ratiocina∣tion.

The second Experiment consists in the wilde beasts use in hunting which they make against one the other, where it is necessary their Imagination must figure it self means, without which they easily per∣ceive they should catch nothing; for they must then needs make a design to follow their prey And the difficulties they encounter oblige them to form another to use that wile without which they cannot catch it; And last of all, they have Wile with the Prize, which can never be done without discourse, and any may ea∣sily judge.

The last Experiment which the order of our former Treatise hath obliged us to unto from these, to shew that Custom and Instruction are never acquired without Discourse, may here again take its place, as that which is decisive, and which receives no valu∣able answer. It is then true that when we teach or accustom Beasts to do any thing, by the caresses or by the menaces we use; and after that the remem∣brance they have thereof engageth them to do the same thing which they have been taught: the Imaginati∣on must needs reason thus, That since such a thing hath at some other times caused them good or ill, that which presents it self being alike, ought also to cause

the same effect: For the images of the blows they recei∣ved are different from those which the imagination forms at that time, since these are of past things, & those are of present and future; so that she must unite the image of the present thing, with that of the past, which is known to it, and that by this she must know that which is to come. And if this be not to reason, there is no reason in the world: And if it be a true Discourse, there are but few actions wherein beasts do not reason; all the difficulty which may be made, here is, To know whether the Imagination can know things past present, and to come. But if we consider that Beasts hope, that they fear, and that they desire, there will be no way left to doubt of this truth, since these passions suppose the knowledge of the good or evil to come: For if they are capable to know this difference of times, which is the most difficult to know; the others which are more easie cannot be unknown unto it, the Memory being de∣stined for things past, and the Sences of those which are present.

We may yet add hereunto the proof we drew, to shew that instinct is ever accom∣panied with reason, since it confirms the truth which we establish: For as the mo∣tion of the Appetite ought to procede all the actions of Beasts, and that this motion is always advanced by se∣veral propositions, which are terminated by the operati∣on, which is as the Conclusion, as Aristotle will have it: All these propositions which are lincked together by common terms, and which instruct the Soul in what she ought to do, must needs have the form of a true reasoning. In effect, before a Beast begins to do any thing, its necessary it should know whether it be good,

and afterwards that its feasible. And last of all, That the practical judgement should intervene, whereby the Imagination judgeth it ought to be done; in pursuit whereof the appetite stirs its self, and causeth its or∣gans to agitate; and to shew that these several Pro∣positions are necessary in these encounters; besides, what the common sence teacheth us, 'tis that Doggs and Hawkes often see their prey without pursuing it, judging that they cannot take it, because its too far from them; sometimes they seem to doubt, and are apparently troubled to resolve whether they should pursue it or no. Now its certain, that see∣ing the Game, they judge it good; and that not pursuing it, they judge the thing not to be feasi∣ble. So the conclusion which consists in opera∣tion, fails for want of one of the Propositions as it happens in all true Syllogisms.

These then were the Reasons which we thought we ought to imploy to shew, That Animals reason. For although there be an infinite many more, one part of which several great persons have used, and which may be augmented by those which men of Judgment may deduce from so rich and fruitful a Subject; we neither judged they could accommo∣date themselvs to the Principles we had established, nor to the shortness we sought, nor to the belief we had that ours alone might demonstrate this truth. We must now observe what hurts they have received from M.C. his Criticks, and whether they have been weakned by his assaults.

But in the first place I am obliged to say, That I have before me an Enemy very wise, and very ad∣vised, and who through the mistrust he hath of his

own forces, useth all the address of great Com∣manders, who gain as much as they can the ad∣vantage of sun and wind, and amuse the Enemy with light skirmishes, without assaulting him in front, and deciding the business by an equal battel. For besides that M. C. thinks he hath Aristotle on his side, and that he hath opposed against us all the Laws of Syllogisms; as if himself had seen the Chief of my Reasons, he disposeth them as he pleaseth, and in a very strange order he confutes my Conclusions, before he hath examined the Grounds; and for all Objections he hath pro∣duced only imaginary Inconveniences or Paralo∣gisms. In effect, in the 14 Chapter he treats the depth of the question of the Reason of Beasts: In the 16. he shews they make no Propositions: And at last he speaks of the Knowledge of the Senses, which is the first of all Knowledges. On the other side, he often unlinks a Reason from a Subject, or is affected to joyn it with another which is more useless. And the best I find, is, That as he imagined I should have followed the order he keeps, he in many places accuseth me of supposing things as not being proved, because he had then spoken of them without remembring that I had demonstrated them before. But against all these wiles, which lose their name and effect when they are not discovered, we may here speak in gross to M.C. till we have consi∣dered them by denial.

First, That neither Aristotle, nor all the Rules of Logick which he hath given us, doth not destroy the Manner of Reasoning which Beasts

use; because they are like two different States, which govern themselves by different Laws. And if Aristotle have made those which are necessary, whereby the Understanding forms its Discourss; it is not but that there may be others for those of the Imagination. I would have it granted as an in∣dubitable Maxim, That no lawful Conclusion can be drawn from particular Propositions; and that the fourth Figure of Galen is useless, nay even faulty. But this takes place only in humane Rati∣ocination, which ever requires some universal Pro∣position; and not in that of Beasts, which can only be form'd from particular Judgments. If M. C. would have upheld the Consequence he draws from what is said in the Schools, he should first have made it appear, That no Ratiocination can be made without some Universal Proposition. For though he hath endeavoured to prove it, besides that the Expositive Syllogism will always convince him he can never make but that this must be a true Syl∣logism:

This White is sweet; This Sweet is good to eat; Then this White is good to eat.

And it's to no purpose to oppose, That it is in the fourth Figure. For were it true, this Figure would not be faulty in the Reasonings of the Imagi∣nation, as we shall shew hereafter: And were it so, it would be always true, That a vicious Syllogism is a Syllogism; and a man cannot say, That he that reasons ill, reasons not.

In fine it's certain, That Ratiocination in it self,

and without considering the differences thereof, is a Discourse which from two Propositions link'd to∣gether by a common term, inferrs a third. And as this may be done by particular Propositions as well as by universal, it's indifferent to the Nature of Reasoning in general, for either the one or the other to be therein imployed. For if in Reasoning there must be two things which convene in a third, and agree also amongst themselves; and on the con∣trary, this Agreeing is to be found as well in par∣ticular as in universal Propositions, as is to be seen in the proposed Example, where the [White] and the [Good to eat] agree with the [Sweet] which is common to them. In effect, as this Agreement is grounded on a Whole wherein divers things are comprehended, and that there are two sorts of them, to wit, the Particular and the Univer∣sal: There are also two sorts of Agreement; the one which is particular, which serves to the Ratiocination of particulars; and the other which is universal, which serves to the general. But we shall more amply explicate this in the Examen of M.C. his Reasons.

In the second place I say, For what concerns the Order he hath disposed my Matters in, although he thought he had done much for his own Cause to have transposed my Reasons and my Proofs, and from the first start to go about to destroy the Reasoning of Beasts, without having examined the Principles wherein I thought I had established it; I fear he is to be reproved, that he hath pro∣ceeded neither with candor, nor with any good form.

As these Reasons are the lights which lose or augment their splendor according to the situation they are given; It is certain, that having placed mine otherwise then they ought to be, he hath much weakned them; and that those who will not take the pains to consider them exactly, will not observe that vivacity and force they might have had in my discourse. But the question is, Whether he ought to have used this treachery? For although every man be Master of the Order of things he treats of, this in Criticks hath its exception, and principally when we take in task all what an Author hath written on any Subject; for then sincerity and candor oblige us to preserve the legitimate ad∣vantages it hath acquired in the disposition of its Matters; and who makes him lose them, loseth also the quality of Faithful and sincere. Nevertheless I would have M. C. defend himself from all his defects; yet I beleeve he cannot excuse himself of that whereon he fell, falling upon my Conclu∣sion without before having destroyed the founda∣tions whereon it is sustained. For whatever he may say against it, if I have sufficiently proved, that the Imagination unites several terms, and several pro∣positions, and that the bond which the Syllogism requires meets in this union; he must himself con∣fess, that she discourseth in these encounters, and what reasons soever he brings to the contrary will never absolutely decide the question, so long as mine subsist. All they can do is to render them doubtful, and to reduce us to the advice of Aristotle who will not have a man abandon a well-established Opinion for some Objections although they were not to be answered.

Certainly M.C: ought to follow the maxime of Conquerors, who never leave any place behind them which may hinder their progress or their re∣turn. And he who holds but the negative part, and who as he says himself is to this instant but a defender, he should rather have denied my prin∣ciples, and so have rendred all my consequences vain, then amuse himself to establish uncertain things on ruinous foundations, and to propose in∣conveniency in those examples I have deduced, from whence he can draw no universal Conclu∣sion.

Again, if after all these great conquests which he beleeves he hath made, he had at last assaulted the Fort wherein I had entrenched my self, he might finde some shew of excuse; but when he presented himself before it, he passeth forward, and says That it was not worth stopping at. For my part I could say as much of his Answers, did I not know that in what Van soever it be there is no∣thing which ought to be despised, and that even false are not useless in discipline; those he hath given us here respect the examples onely, which we have demonstrated that Beasts reason: So that in some sort we may say, that he had no mind to as∣sault the body of our Army, and that his design on∣ly was to beat up a Quarter.

CHAP. I. An Examen of the Reasons which M. C. hath produced against the Syllogism we used for an example of the Reasoning of Beasts.

IN the first place he says thus, That when I sup∣pose a Beast pressed with hunger sees a white thing, feels it soft and finds it savory, and after that con∣cludes that this white thing is good to eat, I make him speak a kind of Reasoning which the Schools call Sorites, which beasts are not at all capable of, since there are many men which cannot make them, having not breath enough to make so many Propositions, nor without confusion to take again so far estranged a term; and that on the other side this way of arguing is very uncertain and captious.

I in a word shall answer this ob∣jection, that when this form of argu∣ing is led by the senses as it is here, it's very easie to make, because the presence of the ob∣ject hinders the confusion of the Imagination. In effect, there is no man so stupid, who cannot make an infinite many Propositions of this kinde; for present him with but twenty things placed in order, he may say that the first is before the second, the se∣cond before the third: And after having thus run them over without any trouble, he may conclude the first is before the twentieth. On the other side, it is not uncertain in those things which are con∣founded

together, and as it were identified. For if the same thing be all white, all soft, all sweet, and all good to eat; it is certain that one may assured∣ly say, that this thing is white, and that this white thing is good to eat. So that the Imagination go∣ing from one quality to another by means of the senses, it can never be decided when it joyns the former with the latter. After all, as this form of Discourse is not uncertain and captious, M. C. can conclude nothing else but that some one may be found which is uncertain and captious; but it follows not that this or that must be it. At worst he should onely prove, that Beasts should often deceive them∣selves, should they use this way of reasoning. Which we shall willingly grant him, since no body beleeves they are in their judgment infallible.

He adds, That if one of the Propositions were cut off to make the Syllogism;

This White is Sweet, This Sweet is good to eat, Then this White is good to eat;

A man concludes nothing from hence because its in the fourth figure. But he should at the same time have told us what form he gives to this fourth figure, since all men do not form it after one man∣ner; some contenting themselves with the dispo∣sing of the Medium; others would have the Con∣clusion thereof indirect; for if he beleeves it suffi∣cient that the Medium should be placed quite con∣trary from what it is in the first figure, this fi∣gure is not faulty, since it proves and concludes on

the same principle, and in the same manner as the former. It is onely useless, since in effect, its the same with the first, to which its indifferent for the force of the illation, whether the Medium be Sub∣ject or Attribute in the one of the two first Propo∣sitions. Now if this be so, the proposed Syllogism is not faulty, and concludes directly as the exposi∣tive Syllogism would do in the first figure.

But if M.C. beleeves that the conclusion there∣in must be indirect, he deceived himself when he would have it that this Syllogism was in that figure; for to put it therein, the condition must be changed, and instead that it says, Then this white is good to eat, a man must say, Then this good to eat is white; I say yet more, had it been made so, yet were it not indirect, because that to be white, sweet, and good to eat, are here particular things, which are identified in one subject; and therefore one may say That this White is good to eat, and that this Good to eat is white, without being in danger to change the natural order which these things ought to keep a∣mongst themselves; it is not so when there are ge∣neral terms; for necessarily it must be that as they are superior to the rest, they keep the natural or∣der which their superiority requires; and when they enter into a conclusion contrary to that order, the conclusion is then indirect; in effect the fault which is to be found in the fourth figure where the conclusion is indirect; comes but from that the ge∣neral terms, which naturally ought to be drawn from their inferiors, are not so in the Conclusion; now this reason supposeth that there are general terms and universal Propositions, and therefore it

concludes nothing, if Syllogisms are found in this figure, wherein there are onely terms and particu∣lar propositions. So that we may conclude that the defect we have observed in this way of arguing respects onely the Discourse of the Understanding, and not that of the Imagination, where rules are a part and which is not subject to all those Maxims which are drawn from Universal Notions. And in∣deed the Expositive Syllogism hath a place in all the figures, notwithstanding the laws they observe for the universality of propositions.

That there is somewhat in the Conclusion of this Syllogism which is not in the An∣tecedent.

But let us withdraw our selves from these thorns whereto M.Cs inadvertency hath led us; and let's see whether it be true, That there is nothing in the Conclusion of our Syllogism which is not in the second Proposition, as he says, whence he infers That its useless, and therefore that therein there is no Syllo∣gism; The reason he brings is, That since before the beast forms the Conclusion of the Syllogism he judgeth that the sweet which he holds betwixt his teeth is good to eat, he must of necessity eat it, because knowledge is given to beasts but to raise their Appe∣tite, which is forced to move it self by the first pacti∣cal judgement they make, and which consequently gives them not the leasure to philosophize on useless Propositions.

And I for my part say, that M. C. hath not given himself the leasure to philosophize on these

useful and necessary propositions: for there is not one of the reasons he brings which witnesseth not its precipitation, some being found so contrary to what he says presently after, others being doubtful or false, and all of them wanting that strict con∣nexion, which makes good consequences.

In effect, after having objected against me, that there is nothing in the Conclusion of the propo∣sed Syllogism, which is not in the second proposi∣tion, he says, That I had done better to have redu∣ced it to this Enthymema, This White is sweet, then its good to eat. But I would willingly ask him, whe∣ther in this Enthymema there is any thing in the Conclusion which is not in the Antecedent; if he grants it, there must also necessarily be in the con∣clusion of our Syllogism somewhat which is not in the second proposition, since the antecedent it like 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to the second proposition: If he denies it, how will he have me make an Enthymema which ought to be composed of two propositions? For al∣though in course he hath condemned it, it is not because there is nothing in the Conclusion which is not in the Antecedent. But because it must be as he says, that the beast must know that all what is sweet is good to eat. We shall examine this Rea∣son hereafter. In the mean time, let M.C. if he can dis-intangle himself out of the puzzle this Answer hath put him in.

To take the depth of the business we must see Whether truly there be nothing in the Conclusion of our Syllogism which is not in the second Proposition. Certainly if these propositions are different, for being composed of terms which signifie different

things, these two are also different the one from the other, as some others which may enter into a Syllogism; since Sweet is the subject of the Minor, and White is the subject of the Conclusion: And that 'tis not to be conceived, that to be Sweet is the same thing as to be White, M.C. cannot with rea∣son contest this truth.

But says he, That the Beast should stop at the Minor without going to the Conclusion, because that at the same time he knows that the white is sweet, he also knows that its good to eat, and that he must ne∣cessarily eat it without having time to form the Con∣clusion.

And what! may he not be hindred from eating it? And in that case it is not true, that it's a necessary thing he must eat it, and that he may not have the leasure to conclude. Without doubt M. C. hath confounded the Action with the Desire; for it is certain that a Beast knows a thing sweet; it com∣monly at the same time knows it good to eat, and then he desires it at the same time: But it follows not from thence that he must eat it, and that he must not make as many different propositions as he unites different notions. Now the Notion of White and Sweet is different from that of Good to eat, and therefore the Beast makes as many several propo∣sitions of these three terms as it directly unites them. The strongest difficulty and objection of M.C. consists in this, that these propositions are made at the same time, and that discourse requires they should be made the one after the other. Whereupon we are to demonstrate two things; to wit, That they are not always done at one time, and

that it is not necessary for Discourse that they should be done with time.

For the first, It is certain that a beast may know that a thing is sweet without judging that its good to eat, because that if he judged it good to eat, he would desire to eat it, and in effect would eat it, if he were not hindred. Now a beast which is not hungry, desireth not to eat what he hath found sweet, and consequently judgeth not that it is good to eat; for since the sensitive Appetite is forced to move it self upon the first practical judgment which the Imagination makes as M. C. says, and as its true, if this Beast had judged that a thing was good to eat, it must necessarily follow that after this practical judgment he must desire to eat it, and by the same necessity that he must eat it, in effect, were there no hinderance; He may then know a sweet thing by the judgment of the taste, which can∣not deceive him, and not judge it good to eat be∣cause he hath no need to eat. Thus these two no∣tions are not made at the same time as M. C. will have it, and therefore they may enter into the form of a Syllogism. Perhaps he may object against us, that the example we have proposed, supposeth the Beast prest with hunger that he had need to eat, and in that case that these two propositions must be made at the same time: But all he could infer from thence were that this example is not good, and that another must be produced, where these propo∣sitions must be made the one after the other, which would be very easie to do. Yet besides what we might say, that this Beast before it was prest with hunger might have known the thing was sweet, and

remember it afterwards when he was hungry with∣out any new proof, and might then judge it to be good to eat, having before judged that it was sweet, and so these two notions would not have been made at the same time; without amusing our selves to answer these vain objections, we must make M.C. see, That it is not necessary to discourse for the Propositions which compose it to be made at the same time.

That one may Reason in a moment:

First, Should a man judge by the nature of Knowledge he might well perceive that so excel∣lent an action ought to be made with all the readi∣ness observable in those which are less noble then it, since that way of agitating is one part of its per∣fection, and the more perfect the causes are, the more readily they agitate. In effect, there is no∣thing on the Faculties part which hinders it from knowing in an instant, and its no less natural unto it so to agitate, then tis for light and colours who have no need of time to produce their Species. Ex∣perience evidently shews us this truth in the senses, who know their objects at the same instant they re∣present themselves unto them; for if to know things they must produce the images of them, it is necessary that knowing them in a moment, they also in a moment must form the images of them. But this appears not onely in the first conceptions of the soul, we will experiment it in the propositi∣ons, and in those designs which it forms in an in∣stant; and what we have said of dreams, suffici∣ently

declares, that it needs not time to unite those things which are different, and which have no o∣ther natural connexion the one with other. So that all the doubt which may arise from hence seems to fall on the union of several propositions, and chiefly when they compose a perfect Ratiocina∣tion.

But whosoever would but consult with himself, and mind but his own tboughts, he will easily be∣leeve that there are no things which follow one a∣nother with that swiftness, and that if there be any succession amongst them, its a succession of or∣der or of nature, and not of time. And if he will not trust to his own judgment, and that he would know what Aristotles was, and he shall learn from him, that the Minor and the Conclusion of a Syllogism are known at the same time, since to know and to make a proposition is the same things; whence we may conclude that at least two propositions which have connexion together may be found in one moment. Now if this be true as the Schools assure us, its a great likelihood that the two first propositions of a Syllogism may be known in the same manner; since it seems there is no reason why the Minor and the Conclusion are known at the same time more then the Major and the Minor; thus we shall be constrained to confess that the whole Syllogism may be made at the same time.

But without making use of the force of autho∣rity, that of the following Reason may disanul all doubts, and entirely decide the question. Those who exercise themselves to discourse on any subject

finde so great a facility in it, that in a moment they see all the consequences which may be drawn from thence, and as they say, know the Conclusions in the principles. In these encounters they of neces∣sity must reason; otherwise it would follow that through the strength of reasoning, they should cease to reason. And then the habit which they had acquired of it, justed to perfect their Ratioci∣nation should wholly destroy it, which would be a very strange thing, and very singular, since all other habits do not change the Nature and Essence of their actions, and tend onely to render them more perfect and more accomplished: Now it would nei∣ther be to leave Ratiocination in its nature, nor to render it more accomplished to take it quite away, as it would undoubtedly happen if it changed to a∣nother kind of knowledge incompatible with it self.

That the Ʋnderstanding supposeth Ratiocination.

It's to no purpose to say That the Ʋnderstanding which is acquired in pursuit is a higher and more noble action then that of reasoning, and that for that cause the Angels reason not, having no other Knowledge then Understanding as that which is most perfect and most comformable to their nature; for from thence it cannot be inferred that the Un∣derstanding is not a true Ratiocination, but onely that it is more exquisite, and that it hath not those defects which are met withall in ours.

Of a truth, the time which we imploy to form them is no essential thing; tis an imperfection which happens to them, from the weight and weakness of our spirit, which hinders it from being able at once

to penetrate the nature of some things, and at one view to see the several relations they have amongst themselves; but as by exercise and habits these de∣fects are to be corrected; so this imperfection is to be taken away from Raticionations, and they may be found with that swiftness, that there can be no in∣terval betwixt the Antecedents and the conclusions which are drawn from it.

To come back to the understanding; although it be made in an instant, it changeth neither the order nor the connexion which things have amongst themselves: Forasmuch as she makes known the first as first, the second as second, and so of the rest according to the natural order they observe. Now this necessarily carries the disposition and the knit∣ing together which is in the Syllogism. Forasmuch as if we know the connextion which the first hath with the second, and that which the second hath with the third, we must at last of necessity come to know the connexion which the first hath with the third, since its the effect of the precedent, and that the effect is ever posterior to its cause in the order of nature, although it be not alwayes in the order of time. Let a man not say, that these things present not themselves entire, and that its the same as with several objects which are seem at the same time; it being needless for the Soul to joyn them, and con∣sequently to make any Judgement or Discourse up∣on them; besides that these several relations and different connexions cannot be known without com∣paring of things, and that they cannot be compa∣red, but that the minde must alternatively go from one to another to observe the mutual relations

which they have together, which cannot be done without discourse. It is not to be be∣leeved, that this high knowledge which is attributed to Angels should be like the first notions of sence, neither is it a simple con∣ception or apprehension of objects. The order of Nature will have it, that if there be in us any fa∣culty or action which is to be communicated to such pure and perfect Spirits, it ought to be the most Noble, and the most Excellent: Now by consent of all the Philosophers the third operation of the Understanding is more Noble then the first; and therefore it must be that which is common to us with them, they must know all things by that: And I even durst say, that all their knowledge is but a perpetual Ratiocination, because they know not as we do, the things successively, and by parcels; but seeing all at once what is in them, and observing all the relations they have one with another, its almost impossible but in so great a concourse of different objects, and in the several Returns which their Un∣derstanding is obliged to make on them, but they must uncessantly Reason; It seems even that this wonderful disposition which God hath put through all the Universe, requires, That since those things which hold the last degrees of Knowledge can ne∣ver know their objects, but by simple and primary notions; those which are in the supreme degree, and which are most perfect of all, ought never to know theirs but by discourse.

I know well, that in the Schools there are those which say, that Angels have no simple conceptions and apprehension, and that they know things by

making Affirmations and Negations by a simple Judgment, which they call by Intelligence: But in this case they must either assemble or divide the Images of things, because Affirmation and Negati∣on cannot be otherwise found, but by the union and separation of Images. Now if this be so, they must discourse, because that in the union of several Images which the relation and comparison of things requires, the form and contexture of discourse must therein necessarily be found.

However it be, that Discourse which is thus made, is most perfect, and hath not those defects which are commonly found in others, because its made in an instant, and that all at once it gives the Knowledge of all the propositions which com∣pose it.

But what! If this be so, the understanding cannot move from things more known, to known to those which are less known, as we say its alwayes done in Discourse; Certainly, if by the most known things, we understand that they are to be know some time before the rest; its certain this progress is not made here where all are known at the same time. But if we understand that these things are by Nature, and by Reason more known, because they are as it were the principles and sum of the rest, we must not doubt but that a progress is made from those things which by nature are more known, to those which are less: now universal things are by Nature and Reason more known then particulars, causes then effects; In a word, the first, then the last, although

they may be all known at the same time.

But this is no place to highten the advantage of this matter. Its sufficient to say, that if in this opinion there be any thing contrary to the common sense of the Schools, it is that the Schools have not considered Ratiocination in its nature, but in its spe∣cies; that it hath defined the gender by its dif∣ferences, and that at last it stops at the most com∣mon way of discoursing which is observed amongst men, without taking notice of any other, and with∣out observing that the conditions therein required were defects, and not things essential unto it.

After all this, could not discourse be made in an instant, its yet true that its often made so fast, that its impossible to observe therein any sensible and manifest succession of time: And there is no minde so heavy and stupid, which cannot make proof in it self of the extream swiftness it makes use of to draw certain consequences, and to dis∣course of those things which the Senses and the Memory present it withall. Now I will take no other advantage in the dispute I have with M. C. to stop his mouth, when he so often opposeth against me, (p. 137) The great number of propositions and Syllogisms which a beast must be obliged to make before it should carry it self towards any thing, had it the faculty of reasoning which we give it. (Page 139) That when it hath found any pleasing object, his appetite provokes him so strongly that he hath no leasure to discourse thereupon. And that at last the precipitation where∣with he agitates is incompatible with so many Proposi∣tions which we make him make. For if all this may be done in a moment, that is to say, in an imper∣ceptible

time, it is not to be feared but that the Imagination may have time to execute it; neither can it be contrary to the precipitation wherewith beasts are wont to agitate. Yet will I not that all Propositions which they make on the same object are made at the same instant; I know they may see a thing long before they taft it, and after having tasted it, at the same time they will not have a desire to eat it, although they find it good to the taste, for∣asmuch as having no need to eat, they conceive it not good to eat. But I pretend onely to shew by what hath been said, that there are some which fol∣low one another very readily, it being nothing ne∣cessary for a sensible space of time to be betwixt them and others which are formed the one after an∣other in length of time, as it happens in those we make.

Lets return to the Examen of that Syllogism which hath given so much trouble to M. C. and defend him from the rest of the assaults we give him. He therefore says, (page 126.) That all the terms which compose it are universal, and therefore that its impossible for beasts to use it, since they are not capable of forming any universal notions.

Truely I ought to beleeve that M. C. hath a very ill opinion of me, to make me such a boyish Ob∣jection, and to think to trouble me with a slight subtilty of the Schools, which is not able to stop the meanest Logitian. There is none but know, that the terms are common and general two wayes; either because they may be applyed to several

things, or because they signifie a Nature which is conceived common to divers things; we may apply that of Sweet to all the particular objects, which the Sences judge Sweet, and yet for all that, with∣out thinking that sweetness is a nature common to all those subjects; and that in this the Ima∣gination useth it as all the rest which are in the pro∣posed Syllogism. But in that sense there they repre∣sent no universal Idea, and therefore M.C. cannot infer what he pretends. In effect were his reason good, it could not be that a beast should know that a thing were sweet, forasmuch as the term of sweet, as he says, is an universal term, which supposeth an universal Idea, whereof beasts are not capable: If it be therefore true, that the Sences know what is sweet, and that sweet is not an univer∣sal term, since the Sences onely know singular things, why should it rather be universal in this Syllogism, then in the Judgement the Sence makes of it! On the other side, when all the terms of Sweet, of Good, of Thing, should have a more ge∣neral signification and more transcendent then they have, they would lose it by the restriction which the demonstrative Pronoune gives them: For when we say This Sweet, This Good, This Thing, we figure no∣thing which is general or transcendent. But the mind commonly stops at the singularity of the thing which is exprest by these terms.

To conclude, it is not necessary to know the general connexion of terms. He adds, That this Syllogism con∣cludes nothing, unless we know, That all what is sweet, is good to eat; and that if a beast doth not onely know this universal Proposition, but also its universality,

it cannot imploy sweetness as a means to conclude the goodness of the Aliment. This reason was pleasing to M. C. for he repeats it in the 132 page, where he very much insists on the Knowledge which a beast ought to have of the universal connexion which is betwixt the sweetness and the goodness of the Ali∣ment, to conclude such a thing good to eat.

Before we enter into the Examen of our opini∣ons, we must both of us agree in one Truth which cannot be contradicted; to wit, That when a beast eats any thing which he knows is sweet, its certain he will eat it; and that he would not eat it, did he not finde it good to eat; forasmuch as nothing moves the appetite but what is good; and therefore he knows the connexion which sweetness hath with goodness, since he findes not the thing good, but because its sweet, and that if it were not sweet, he would not judge it good. The question then is to know, whether it be necessary for him to know the universal annexion of sweetness with goodness; or whether it be sufficient for him onely to know that which is to be found betwixt these two particu∣lar qualities: And of necessity M. C. must take the one side or the other, unless he hath a design to commence a suit against Nature as well as against me; if he therefore beleeves that a beast knows the universal connexion of sweetness with goodness, there is nothing hinders but that a beast my deduce the proposed consequence, and conclude, after ha∣ving known, That a thing is sweet, That the thing is good to eat, because he knows, that all what is sweet is good to eat. After this manner would M.

C. fall into the opinion which we maintain, that Beasts reason, although by another way. For we beleeve it sufficient for them to know the particu∣lar connexion of sweetness with goodness, to con∣clude that such a thing is good to eat.

In effect, if it be true that they know the connexi∣on which those two qualities have with one another, as we have shewed; and that they can conceive nothing that's universal, that being above the ma∣terial faculty, it's necessary they should know the particular connexion which these two things have together: So that since they judge a thing good to eat, because they find it sweet, it follows that the knowledge of that particular connexion is sufficient to make them conclude that such a thing is good to eat, since that in effect they do so, neither are they deceived in their judgment. I must confess indeed that there is an universal connexion of sweetness with goodness, which serves for the foundation of that truth which beasts know; but its in Nature, and not in the Imagination which is not obliged to know it that it may certainly infer that such a thing in particular is good to eat; its like those who do things by rote; For what they do is conformable to the rules of Art, although they know it not, neither doth their ignorance hinder them from do∣ing it as perfect as it could be done. So the Ima∣gination knows not that all what is sweet is good to eat, but onely that the sweet is good to eat; and with this particular knowledge it as certainly knows it ought to eat it, as if it had a general knowledge thereof. Last of all, since what it thus

knows is found true, what need it seek it any other way? And since Syllogisms may be made of par∣ticular propositions which make a good conclu∣sion, Why then may not that which it makes be good?

M.C. hereupon says, That from that, any sweet thing is good to eat, it follows not that that is it.

Its true, and I confess that beasts sometimes de∣ceive themselves, neither did I say their Syllogisms were demonstrative. It is sufficient if they be pro∣bable, and that commonly they make them to know the particular connexion which Nature hath placed betwixt those two qualities; for by her they know that such a thing is good to eat, with as much cer∣tainty as all other sensible things may be known. It is certain, they do not know that they know it; for to know a thing, and to know that one knows it, are two different things, although M. C. it seems hath confounded them. To know that we know, we must consider the general Reasons, and the form of reasoning which we use; in a word, we must make a reflection on that knowledge which Beasts are not capable of. But to know, and to know a thing simply, this is not necessa∣ry, and its sufficient that the notion we have of it be like the nature of the thing which presents it self without examining the principles or the means whereby we know it.

That sweetness cannot move the Appetite untill the Imagination hath judged it good.

After this M. C. makes me three great questi∣ons, and askes me, Who could have told me, That Beasts did not eat before they made all these fair Dis∣courses; That sweetness was not sufficient to move the Appetite if the Imagination knew not that it were good to eat; and that it makes three different judge∣ments from the two first of which it infers a third? But I shall answer in a word, It is reason told me so. And I wonder that having made him see it so clear and evident, it hath not preswaded him the same thing. I have much more reason to ask who told him, That sweetness is sufficient to move the Appetite without its being necessary for the imagina∣tion to judge that the sweet thing is good to eat? For no Philosopher could have taught him this Maxim, nor could any Reason have engaged him in a Pro∣position which destroys the first elements of Philo∣sophy. All the world is agreed that the Appetite cannot be moved but by what is good; and that therefore sweetness as sweetness cannot move it, it must be known as good; but also as good to eat, if the Appetite will eat it. Now the sence knows not this goodness as M. C. confesseth presently after, and therefore it must be the Imagination, since the Appetite affords no kind of Knowledge.

Certanly it will endanger those which will perceive how M. C. hath abused himself with such gross errors; to be scandalized with the reproach he makes me, That I onely brought fair words to maintain my

opinion, without having troubled my self to uphold them with solid Reasons. And perhaps some will say, that he hath used neither to destroy them; and as there is more trouble to build then to ruine, he hath done wisely to have established nothing, since he hath succeeded so ill in that which was most easie. For my part all that I can say in this en∣counter is, That he ought not to have contented himself to have learnt from all the men he had con∣verst with, That Beasts did not reason. He ought also to have informed himself of the reasons which they had to beleeve in; and boldly to have pro∣duced them for the defence of the Truth, for the reputation of those with whom he had spoken, and perhaps for the instruction of those to whom he hath not spoken.

But what? Could he have brought a better reason to prove that Beasts reason not, then the experience which he hath made thereof in himself? he hath as he saith examined the actions of his sen∣sitive Appetite, and after having found them all like those of beasts, He concludes very strongly that in his opinion, That since his Appetite doth things without reason, and often against reason, that of Beasts ought to work after the same man∣ner.

I am ravished, that after having so often shewed that M.C. reasons not where he thinks he reasons, well, he gives me occasion to make it appear, that he reasons well where he thinks not that he reasons And its there wherein I shall the more easily take the liberey to tell him that he deceives himself, and that the most part of actions which he beleeves to

be without reason are made with a perfect Ratioci∣nation. But he must observe that this Ratiocina∣tion is of his Imagination and not of Understand∣ing. For it is certain, that in the most part of these actions which he findes in himself, and in all the Examples he brings of those who are gowry or pa∣ralytical; the Imagination always reasons after its own manner, and forms its ordinary Discourses be∣fore the Appetite is moved. So that we may im∣ploy for him and against him, The reason he ob∣jects against us and say, That since bis Appetite which is like that of Beasts, operates but in pursuit of the Imaginations reasoning, it must be the same with that of the Appetite of Beasts: And by an inversion of the same proof, since we have shewed that the Imagination of Beasts reasons be∣fore the Appetite is moved; it must needs be that his reasons also before his Appetite moves it self to any thing. Let him not wonder at the shortness of the time he imploys therein, he need none at all; and if he will consider what we have before said, he will know that the Mind is far more ready, and moves far more nimbly then he thinks.

And afterwards without doubt he will see, that he used precipitation when he objected against us; That Reason opposeth it self to the motions of the Ap∣petite, That this undertakes things which Reason would not undertake, and that Beasts must be more reasonable then Men, and their Appetite must be wholly subjected to Reason if they expected the Judgments and the Resolutions from thence, before they moved themselves to any thing. Certainly, be∣fore all these reasons were produced, he ought ma∣turely

to have examined whether they could serve to his cause. For my part who judge them use∣less, I willingly grant them without any prejudice to mine, since the word Reason which he useth is to be understood but of humane and intellectual reason, and not of the Imagination wherein all our difference consists.

But its to press a man too far who no longer de∣fends himself; let us seek enemies elsewhere, and go to the releif of the first Experience, which we did produce to confirm our fundamental Rea∣son.

CHAP. II. Examination of the Objections M. C. hath made against the first of our Experi∣ences.

IT imports that a Dog which would take a thing hung up on high, where∣to he cannot attain, after having obser∣ved an elevated place whereby he may rise on another, and from thence catch the thing he de∣sires, ought necessarily assemble the fantasm of the place where he is with that of the first step, and and that with the latter, and the latter with the thing he would have: And that all this would be useless to him unless he reassembled the first notion which he had found with the last, since its that

which makes him judge that the thing which he did beleeve impossible, was no longer so.

I have almost a mind to grant M. C. all that he here objects against me; for besides some few lines, there is nothing in the three great pages which he imploys to confute what I have said which staggers the opinion I hold; and I even beleeve that the greatest part of the inconveniences he finds therein cannot pass for new proofs to confirm it. In effect what absurdity Is there that a man who sees a Lad∣der raised to get up on the top of a house, concludes before he makes use of it, that otherwise he cannot get up? Why should he not assemble the image of the place where he is, with that of the first step, and that with the second, and so of the rest? And after having made as many Propositions as there are steps, why should he not joyn the first notion he had with the last, to conclude that he may clime to the top by the means of the Ladder? Its so far from any absurdity that it is impossible it should be otherwise done for the reasons we have deduced in the first Chap∣ter of this work. M. C. hereupon says, That we every day go up and down, without thinking on what we do, our reason being then wholly imployed about other things, and that therefore we must not figure to our selves that a Dog reasons, when men who have a greater facility of reasoning then Beasts do not reason.

But he is not awares that he confounds intel∣lectual Reason with that of the Imagination, and consequently can from thence induce nothing a∣gainst me. I with him confess that our reason at that time thinks not on the action which we do,

but I deny that our Imagination thinks not of it. For neither sence nor Appetite can operate with∣out it, and when we see the sequel of the degrees, and how we clime them one after another, it must both conduct our eyes and our steps; Now I pre∣tend that this cannot be done without reasoning, but it is a reasoning which is proper to the Ima∣gination wherein the Understanding hath no share.

For the rest I shall not stop at what is pursuit he says, That the precipitation with which the Dog works in this encounter is incompatible with so many Propositions, and with the deliberation which A∣ristotle requires in these kinds of Discoursings. For we have before shewed, That all these Propositi∣ons may be made in a moment; and we shall have occasion hereafter to make it appear, that he did not understand Aristotle, and that deliberation is not absolutely necessary in these kinds of dis∣coursings.

But I cannot suffer the consequence he draws from thence to part without an examen, That the Mason should make as many Syllogisms as there are steps in the Ladder did he assemble the images thereof, as I have affirmed, because it gives us oc∣casion to shew what the action is, by which the Soul makes the Syllogism and to speak it in a word. What the form and essence of Ratiocination is, of which Philosophy hath scarce spoken, and which M. C. seems to be ignorant of. In effect, if to assemble the image of the first step with that of the the second, and that with that of the third, we should make a Syllogism as M. C. supposeth he

must needs beleeve, that a Syllogism consists in the union of two Propositions, and that as many pro∣gresses as a man can make from one proposition to another, there should be as many Syllogisms, or else he must have vainly proposed as an absurdity, that the Mason must make as many Syllogisms as there are steps of the Ladder.

Wherein Ratiocination consists, and what the Action is which the Soul doth in reasoning.

Certainly as two simple notions make not a proposition, and pass but for the fi••st operations of the Understanding which is redoubled, two pro∣positions likewise make not a Syllogism, and can∣not pass but for a second operation which is re∣peated; and as many Propositions as shall be added a fresh will be but so many repetitions of the same operation, and will never take the nature and the form of a Syllogism, if that which makes the dif∣ference of the third operation with the second do not encounter. Now since there is nothing in the Syllogism which distinguisheth it from all other, collecting together of several propositions but the term Then, it follows that the term is the mark of the ess••ntial difference of the Syllogism, and for the particular action which the Soul makes to dis∣course; For since the simple terms are the marks of the production of Images, wherein the first o∣peration consists. And that the word Est designs the union which the soul makes of divers images, wherein the judgment consists, the word Then must also mark some action different from the two o∣thers,

and wherein the form and essence of Ratio∣cination is contained. The question therefore is to know, what that action is which is designed by that term. And presently a man may imagine, that its the illation and induction which the Soul draws from precedent notions; But besides that in all hypo∣thetick and conditional propositions there is illation without discourse; It must follow that the nature of Ratiocination is wholly shut up in the conclu∣sion, because that that alone contains all this illati∣on. Some say that this word designs the cause of the conjunction of terms, and that the third ope∣ration is different from the second, but because it shews the reason of the conjunction of terms which is not marked in the second: It being true, that when a man saith, Mans is visible, it is not said, why he is visible, but when the word Then is added, we mark the cause why he is said to be visible, to wit because he is reasonable. Although all this is true, it is not therefore that wherein the precise and par∣ticular difference consists which we seek; for the same inconvenience which is found in the illation is herein to be encountred. Since conditional propo∣sitions as well mark the cause of the consequence, and of the conjunction of terms with the Syllogism. Since that in saying, if man be reasonable he must be visible, a man pretends to shew that he is visible because he is reasonable. Now if it be true that one proposition hath that of common with Ratio∣cination to mark the cause of the conjunction of terms, its certain that its not therein wherein we ought to finde the difference which distinguisheth Ratiocination from the second operation of the

Understanding, adding that if the word Then de∣sign the cause onely, it will not make an action as we have said it was necessary, unless they would have us say, That he makes the designation which the Soul makes it self of this cause. But there is no likelihood that so noble and so great an operation wherein Discourse consists should be reduced to so slight a thing as this last designation, which would be to be found even in conditional Propositions, as we have now shewn.

To discover then the force and sence of a word, which how small soever it be comprehends all the extent of our reason; we must consider that when the Soul binds several Propositions together, it makes a progress from one term to another, and goes always forward without returning, if we may so say, on the same steps, and during its march it never makes a Syllogism, having no occasion to imploy the word then: In effect, let a man make a gradation of as many Propositions as he plea∣seth; and for example sake let it be of these five, as this is,

• 1. Peter is a Man:
• 2. Man is an Animal.
• 3. An Animal is a body.
• 4. The Body is a Substance.
• 5. Then Peter is a Substance.

It's certain, that the four first have not the form of a Discourse, because the Soul goes out-right, and passeth directly from the one to the other. But when it comes to return on its first Notion, and that it unites it with the last, then it makes the fift Propo∣sition,

wherein it imploys the word Then, which would be useless in all the precedent, and give to all the gradation the form of Discourse. The same thing••s made in all Caregorick Syllogisms, unless the Understanding joyn, as here it doth, the first with the last: But sometimes it joyns the third with the second, or the second with the third, as in the first figure; sometimes the third with the first, as in the second figure; sometimes the fourth with the second, as in the third figure. For example in these two Propositions, Man is reasonable, Peter is a Man, There are four Notions and to draw a conclusion, the Understanding joyns Peter which is the third Notion with Reasonable which is the second, and concludes, Then Peter is Reasonable. So in the third figure, All men are Reasonable, Some Men are Fools, the Understanding joyns Fools which is the fourth Notion, with Reasonable which is the second, and concludes, then some Fools are reasonable, and so of the rest. But how∣ever this collection be made, it's always true, that the Soul makes a return on its first Notions, and this Return makes not onely the last Proposition where the soul stops and reposeth it self, but also it binds together the terms which were scattered and divided in the precedent; so that we may say the soul makes a circle when she discourseth, and moves conformably to her nature, since the circu∣lar motion is most perfect of all, and which belongs to the most excellent things. This return there∣fore is the motion which properly makes discourse, and which distinguisheth it from all the other acti∣ons of the Soul, and therefore it is that which the Term Then ought to design.

Let it not be objected against us, That Aristotle puts not the conclusion for any part of the Syllo∣gism, and then to this return which is onely found in the Conclusion, is not that which forms the dis∣course, for Aristotle considers the Syllogism as a Logitian, as the Instrument whereby we attain Knowledg, in which case the conclusion is onely the effect thereof; And not as a Physitian, as an operation of the soul distinct from the two others, when he speaks of it also in his Physicks, he ex∣presly says, That the Major and the Minor serve for its Matter, and consequently the Conclusion of it ought to be the form and the principal part. And certainly, as the return of the soul principally appears in the Conclusion, for which reason it hath been called the form of the Syllogism, since the na∣ture of Discourse consists in this Motion. But also as by this return, the soul retakes the terms of the first propositions, we may say that the form of the Syllogism is shed abroad through them, and that in that sence it must be considered as a whole, every Proposition whereof makes an integral part without which it cannot be entire and perfect.

Yet must we not abuse our selves on the word Return, as I perceive most men have done, who take it for a Re∣flection; for this to speak properly, is made when the Faculty reflects on it self, and on its proper action considering them separated from their subject; and it's certain the Understand∣ing onely can make this kind of reflection, because it cannot be without abstraction, of which the Ima∣gination is not capable, but when the soul retakes

an image, which it hath already formed, for to joyn it with another, it plights not on it self, nor on on its knowledge, but onely on the effect of its action; thus there is no abstraction, nor conse∣quently no true reflection. And the Imagination may as well make this return, as the Eye which having seen several objects one after the other may return to that which it first perceived; Whence we may draw this consequence, That there is nothing in Ratiocination which surpasseth the so••ce of the Imagination, which is above the Soul of Beasts.

It is time to return to M. C. who says, That the Dog judgeth not of the possibility of what he un∣dertakes: Because if it were so, he would not make so many leaps, and so many unprofitable endeavors, and would not strive to take what the most stupid rea∣son would shew him were too much elevated. And thence he concludes, that it is not reason which car∣ries him to it, but its the object which draws him, and which moves his spirits.

As we shall hereafter have occasion to speak of this possibility, I shall onely here say that Beasts as well as Men often deceive themselves in the judgement which they make, and that both the one and the other do figure to themselves things to be possible which are not so at all. But this hinders not but that before they are undertaken they make a judgment of it how false or deceitful soever it may be, as we shall shew. So that this ought not to oblige M C. in so extravagant an o∣pinion, contrary to all the Maxims of Philosophy, as that is which he seems to endeavour to defend,

when he says, That the Object draws the Appetite and moves the spirits. For although this may be applyed to a moral attraction, as we speak in the Schools, and such a one as the Good and the End are accustomed to make: Yet in other encounters he well observes that he understands a Physical at∣traction, since he assures that the objects have an adamantine quality which supposeth an action of that kind; I would not therefore insist thereupon: seeing he would not clearly make it appear what he thought thereupon. Let's therefore follow him another way, and see what endeavors he will make against the crafts which Beasts use in hunting, which we are assured were the effects of Ratioci∣nation.

CHAP. III. The Examen of what M. C. hath said against the second Experience which we proposed, Touching the wiles of Beasts.

CErtainly we may say of a truth, that here he opposeth slights to slights; and that he imitates those Fishes which cast abroad their ink to hide them∣selves from the eyes and snares of the Fishermen; for to lessen the splendor and evidence of a Reason, with which he ought to be convinced, he casts ob∣scurity

on my words and says, That all the difficulty to be found therein depends on the ambiguity of the terms of slights and of figuring. For my part, who use according to the common sence they bear a∣mongst us, I beleeve unless a man were Dutch or Welch he can finde no equivoke in them, after all; if there were any M. C. should have put them by, and afterwards have discovered the weakness of the reason which I have hid, as he feigns, under the ambiguity of those two terms▪

It also belonged to him to propose some of those slights, even he ought to have chosen amongst them all that which to him seemed most advanta∣gious to me, that demonstrating that discourse hath no share in it, he might render my reason useless. In the mean time he thinks himself suffi∣ciently sheltred in saying, That if I had designed any one of these slights in particular, he would have endeavoured to have explicated them But what! since I designed them all, was it necessary for me to mark any in particular; and since I excepted none, ought he not to have judged that I did not beleeve there was any which did not serve for my cause, and that the first of them which he should have defeated would have rendred my objection vain and deficient? Truly this makes me remem∣ber those Fanfawors to whom the choyce of the combate was offered, and which afterwards excuse themselves on this, that that of the sword they were not designed to, wherein they vaunt they would have wrought wonders. For my part I know not what there would have been which M. C. would have made in a particular examen; but I

can say that in general he hath wrought no great ones, and that when he contents himself to assure us in gross, That of all those slights, some were the effects of instinct, and others of Memory and Custom. There is nothing therein wonderfull, unless he for∣get some which are neither made by Instinct, Me∣mory nor Custom.

And that notwithstanding his Induction is not compleat, yet he forbears not to draw an universal Conclusion; for setting aside that Instinct, Memo∣ry and Custom do not exclude Reason, as we shall shew hereafter; It's certain that old Hares and Foxes are more wily then the young ones, and consequently they have particular wiles which they have learned from themselves, and which can∣not come from Instinct, since Instinct is a thing which is natural and common to all the species. This being supposed, when they first of all use these wiles, it's neither by Custom nor Memory, seeing as yet they never have made use of them, and that we cannot accustom our selves to actions which we never did. Neither can we remember those things which are quite new. We must then say that they come from elsewhere, and that they have no other form but reason, since its onely she to whom it a∣lone can be related.

CHAP. IV. The Examen of what M. C. hath said against our third Experience drawn from the Custom and the Instruction of Beasts.

AS the last of our Experiences which is drawn from the In∣struction and from the Custom fur∣nisheth us with a most powerful proof of the Rea∣son of Beasts: It hath obliged M. C. to form, as it were a new body of an Army to combate it, and to afford it a whole Chapter for the pitched field; let's therefore a while observe these new ene∣mies.

And first of all, I see M.C. sends forth his For∣lorn-hope; I call all that part so which he hath said concerning Custom in the pages 145, and 146. which nothing concerns the question in debate; and after several faines which he makes to baffle what we have demonstrated concerning the pro∣duction and union of Images, at last he comes to the assault and pretends to shew, that the Imagi∣nation hath no knowledge at all of things past, pre∣sent and to come, whereupon is grounded all the strength of his Reason. In effect he well foresaw, that if he granted that the presence of some ob∣jects made some Beasts remember past things, and made them expect the like from thence to come, he

would be obliged to confess, that they reason as we may judge by what he hath said of Fear, p. 155. for which cause he boldly denies it to be true, and made all his endeavors to prove that the Imagina∣tion knows no difference of time.

But to what purpose serve all these Reasons, if the Experience we have produced convince them of error. All the world knows, and all the world sees that Beasts Hope, that they Fear, that they Desire; and consequently it must needs be that they must know future things, since all these passi∣ons are moved onely by the good or ill which is to come. Now if this be so, it's to no purpose to labour to shew that they can know no difference of time. Wherefore before we examine what he hath produced to prove this Proposition, we must see what he opposeth to this experience, and what address he useth to withdraw himself from so ill a pass.

Beasts hope for things to come.

First he accuseth me, Not to speak wholsomly when I say that Beasts Hope, because I have else∣where written that to speak wholsomly, there was none but Man did Hope, and that all other Animals had but a shadow of Hope, as well as of Reason; Whence he concludes, That since that time the acti∣ons of Beasts have not changed their Nature; And that it doth not become a Philosopher to make that pass for a Truth, which is so onely in shadow and appearance.

Certainly it's easie to judge by this Answer

that M. C. was very much puzzled here, and having no reason to destroy the Hope of Beasts, he would charge his fables upon the Reader, and withdraw himself from the danger by making use of my words. But without reproaching him as he hath done me, that this kind of proceeding is not becoming a Man who seeks the truth, and that it smells more of the Sophister then of the Philoso∣pher; He will give me leave to say, that what I have elsewhere written on the same subject, is not here to be brought in question, in which happily I may have been deceived; but to know whether it be true That Beasts Hope, for if it be so, they must hope for the good to come and know future things.. Were I he alone who held this opinion, perhaps the contradiction which M. C. observes in my words, might render it suspitious. But Aristotle, St Thomas, in a word, all the Schools are of that opinion, and there is no Philosopher of esteem who acknowledg∣eth not Hope to be in Beasts, & the knowledge of the future in Hope. Even M C. cannot but be of that opinion, since he beleeves Beasts are capable of Desire; for Hope is only different from desire by the difficulty we figure of obtain∣ing the good which we have not. Now Beasts may desire a good which they may judge difficult to ob∣tain, and consequently may hope for it. M. C. must therefore confess the truth of this Experience, or prepare another Answer then what he hath pro∣duced, since it satisfies not the common opinion which hath no interest in the contradiction which he hath found in my writings.

But should M. C. possibly have beleeved that

true which I said in another place in the Elogy of Hope, were contrary to what I here affirm? Did he not observe that it was a Rhetorical Discourse, wherein we give more liberty to words, and wherein terms keep not to that severity which Dog∣matical Discourses require? But what if he had said, that to speak soberly, true Philosophers on∣ly Reason, and the rest of men have but a shadow of Ratiocination, had he not made a Proposition which in some sence is most true? and would he not justly have derided those who from thence would have induced, That other men did not reason? Doth he beleeve that when Plato asserts that all what is here below is but the shadow of things which are in their Ideas, did he then bel••eve there was nothing real or true? They are ways of speaking which all languages have used to observe, how some things are estranged from the perfecti∣on of others; and it were to deprive them of their fairest ornaments, and of their most splendent lights, to take away from them their shadows and their figures. When I therefore affirmed, that Man onely did Hope, and that Beasts had but a shadow of Hope, I meant nothing else but that Hu∣man Hope was more noble and more elevated then that of Beasts, and that in comparison of that the other was so base and imperfect that it did not seem to deserve the name of Hope, and had on∣ly the appearance and figure of it. But from thence to conclude that I was fallen into a contra∣diction, when I elsewhere said, that they did hope, he must either be a very ill French-man, or a very ill Logitian.

Beasts fear the evill to come.

For what concerns fear, there is no great difficulty, as M C. says, there being two sorts of it; the one in effect is a Ratiocination, and a consideration of what is not present to our Senses, but which we infer ought to happen unto us; This is not to be found in Beasts: But there is another which we call properly Fear or Fright, of which all Beasts are capable; and must not therefore know what is to come; for we are frighted with present objects, and even with those which are past, so as the Images be pre∣sent.

I shall with M.C. acknowledge then two sorts of Fear, and I hope elsewhere to speak more fully of them then I can do here; but I did not mean to di∣stinguish them as he doth, and to exclude the know∣ledge of the future from none of them, because it were to destroy them and confound several passions in one. In effect, were the evil present, there would be no Fear, it would be Grief, Consternation, or such like. And M. C. of necessity must take frightfulness for a kinde or species of Fear, which it participates to all the nature of the Gender. Now Fear in general supposeth the knowledge of the evill to come, as all our Masters and all our Books teach us; and consequently frightfulness supposeth the same thing, since all what belongs to the Gender ought also to be in the species▪ Cer∣tainly M. C. is herein far from the sense of A∣ristotle and of his Sectaries who beleeve that to form this passion, the ill must not be to come, but

even a man must not be certainly assured that it is to come, or that we have some hopes to es∣chew it.

How we are frighted with present objects.

But what says he? we are frighted with present ob∣jects. Its true, so as it be well understood; for this pre∣sence hinders not but that the ill we fear is to come; when we say, That the objects or the present evils cause frights, the words of Evil and of Object are taken for the cause of the ill, and not for the effect, which is the true evill. And in this sense it's true, that the ill is present, and that still the fright re∣spects the ill to come; because it considers the ef∣fect which that cause is to produce, which is pro∣perly that which gives the fright. Since did we not think that it was to produce its effect, neither would it cause that apprehension; so an enemy who falls at once upon us, a flash of lightning, a fantasm, and all other things which fright and terrifie us, are but the causes of the ill which we imagine is to be∣fall us; for although we think it very near (and it is that which makes the difference of a fright from all other fear) yet it's certain, it is not then so; and were it so in effect, it would not move us to a fright, but to greif, consternation, or the like, as is already said. On the other side, the presence of the object is different according to the several powers to which it relates. That which is present to the eyes, is not always so to the touch; and so if it be true that a fright is moved by objects which are present, for as much as they are seen, yet it

also hinders not, but that this fright considers the future, because those objects are not yet present to the sense of feeling, for the preservation whereof this passion is chiefly raised in the soul; for as A∣ristotle says, those things which are formidable and which cause terror, are those which may cause a corruptive grief.

What shall we then say to the example which M. C. produceth? Of a Man on the top of a Steeple, and who will be sensible of a fright in looking down, although he be not in fear of falling, being fenced about with a rail or wall; for if there be any fear, it is not an effect of his Ratiocination, nor of the know∣ledge of future. I shall answer in few words; First, That M.C. seems to have forgot the subject of our question, for as much as I did not propose these passions to prove that the Imagination reasons, but to make it appear, that she knows the time to come; and therefore the consequence he draws, That this Fear is no effect of his Ratiocination, is to no purpose.

Secondly, He confounds according to his practice the Knowledg of the Intellect with that of the Fan∣cy. For the assurance which this man hath of not fal∣ling, seeing the railes and safeguards which environ him, is an effect of his Understanding, which hinders not his Imagination from figuring to it self that he might fall, & so consequently that she considers not the future; as she is surprised at the sight of a preci∣pice, she minds not that which should reassure her; and the impression she hath received of it is so strong, that notwithstanding all the advice which the Understanding afterwards proposeth, she can∣not

contain herself, but suffers herself to be carri∣ed away with that Motion which she first gave her self. Even as it happens in others passions, which often raise some resistance in the mind, which the superior part affords it, although this fright there∣fore be vain and ill-grounded, yet the Imagination forbears not to do the same thing, which she doth in others which are just and reasonable, and con∣sequently she considers the danger of the fall, as it were truly to happen. In a word, she here repects the evil which is to come, as in all other kinds of fear.

How past dangers trouble the Mind.

So much concerning the fright, which present objects use to incite. It remains now to make M. C. see, that when past dangers come back to the Memory, and produce all the very same effects which fear useth to cause, the Imagination respects even the ill to come; for although in effect it be past, yet it considers it in the condition it was when it moved that first fright; Now at that time it was to come, and consequently she still sees it as to come. That this may be well understood, we are to observe that the Images of things is pre∣served in the Memory with all the circumstances, and withal those modifications with which it's re∣vested, when it enters into that faculty of the soul. So when we see an object a far off agitated with some motion, or scituated in such or such a manner, the image of this ob∣ject remains in the Memory

with the species of the distance of this motion, of the scituation which the senses observed in it; and when we come to remember our selves of it, it again represents it self revested with the same accidents. Now its certain that the differences of time are in the rank of these circumstances, and when a faculty knows a thing which is to come, it with the principall thing conceives the difference of the time to come wherewith it is accompanied; and consequently whether the Image of that ob∣ject ought to be preserved in the Memory, it must needs be with the very same circumstance; and when it re-enters the thought, it therein presents its self as future; otherwise the representation could not be just and faithful. It is not there∣fore to be wondered if those who escape a danger can never again think of it without being surprised with the same fright it had formerly given them; for as much as having the first time known the dan∣ger, as an evil to come, and whereinto they were ready to fall, the image which they have preserved therefore can represent it no otherwise then it then was; that is to say, as ready to come. And fancy∣ing it after that manner it ought to cause a fright, since its a passion which the evil which is ready to befall us is accustomed to provoke.

But what! A man may say, the danger is really past, and who hath escaped it is not ignorant of it, and therefore he ought to have added this circum∣stance of time to the image which he kept there∣of. And if he remembers it again, he ought no more to consider it as a present evil, but as a past e∣vill, since the image which represents it is modified

by this difference of time, which is incompatible with that which is to come.

To this its to be answered. 1. That images have this priviledge, that although they represent con∣trary and incompatible things, yet they have no opposition amongst themselves, and may be com∣patible together, as both Experience and the Schools teach us; so that, that of the past, and fu∣ture time, what contrariety soever they may seem to have, do not destroy one the other, and the Memory may preserve them at the same time in one and the same subject.

2. That the circumstances and the modifications which the Minde adds to bodies of a principal fi∣gure, are as so many several beds and different sur∣faces which she applies the one upon the other. So that the latter altereth not that which was first applied, neither can any one corrupt the Mistris figure which is therewithall revested. So when we first see a man who is set, the image of that man enters into the Memory with that circumstance; and when afterwards we see him stand up, the Mind adds to the mans figure the latter modification without defacing the former; otherwise she could never remember she saw him fit; just so it is of the evil, which at first it judgeth is to befall it; for she preserves the image with the circumstance of the time to come, and when it's past it adds to the image of the ill, the latter difference of time, with∣out defacing the former: Now as these circum∣stances do not confound themselves in the Memo∣ry, but keep their natural distinction therein, the Imagination which may consider the accident of a

subject without minding others, may link it self to that of the future, without minding the past; for example, if the object have any thing which is able to surprise or astonish the mind, as without doubt a great danger is; for the first sight which the imagination hath, may trouble it so powerful∣ly that it will stop at the first circumstance, where∣with she finds it revested, and may then see it but as it were to come, although she may know it as past, did she but afford herself the time to consi∣der the latter representations which she formed thereof. And its in this sense what M. C. says is true, That she would not be disturbed with what is past, and was no more to happen, did she know it as past. But it from hence follows not, That she suf∣fers the emotions of fear without having the know∣ledge of the future, as we have shewed.

I shall not stop at what he supposeth, That the Imagination acts alone in those examples which he produceth. Although I can shew him the contrary, it makes nothing to the question. So that there remains almost nothing for me to say to maintain the proof we have drawn from the passions. For the di∣stinction he placeth in the desires, and all what he says in pursuit thereof, is useless in the point in hand.

Should I grant him, That a man of an amorous inclination needs no Ratiocination to kindle the de∣sires wherewith he suffers himself to be taken at the sight of his Mistris, no more then he who is offended to stir up the appetite of vengeance which takes him at sight of his enemy; And so of the rest of the ex∣amples

he produceth. And that at last all those de∣sires are the first motions, which depend not on reason since they prevent it. Should I say I grant him all this, what prejudice would it do to the propositi∣on I have made? I should prove that the Imagina∣tion may know things to come; and to that end I produce the experience we have, That Beasts de∣sire, which is a passion which supposeth this know∣ledge. Is there a word in all this discourse of M. C. which destroys this proof: Instead that he ought to shew that desire requires not the know∣ledge of the future, he witnesseth that he demands no Ratiocination. But it is not that which is in question; it's to change the Hypothesis, and M. C. cannot avoid the blame to have fallen into that er∣ror of Ratiocination, which the Logitians call Igno∣ratio Elenchi. And if he could defend himself from it, it is still true that he here confounds the Rea∣son of the Understanding with that of the Imagina∣tion, since he cannot confess it, that when he says that the first motions do not depend from reason, and that they prevent it, that cannot be under∣stood but of the superior and intellectual reason; And therefore it makes nothing against me, who in all this discourse onely shew, That the Imaginati∣on hath its proper and particular Ratiocination, in which the Understanding hath no share.

But to go to the bottom of the question, what ever may be said, There is no desire which suppo∣seth not the knowledge of what we desire, and it's impossible that it should not be known as a thing which we have not; for did we beleeve we had it, and possess't, it would not provoke Desire, but

Love or Joy. Neither is this a Paradox, 'tis the common sence of all the learned. And it's fruitless to oppose against it, That we sometimes desire things present; for in seeing them, we enjoy them not, and they forbear not to be absent to that power for which we desire them, as we have al∣ready said of Fear. And therefore we may safely conclude, that since Animals Fear and Desire, as M.C. himself confesseth its necessary they should know the good and the evil to come; And if they did know the things in this difference of time, which is most difficult to know, we ought from thence to infer that they may know them in that of the past and of the present, namely being indued with Memory, which is destined for things past, and of the Senses which judge onely of present objects.

How Beasts know the differences of time.

This being well established, all the reasons which which M. C. brings to prove that it's impossible Beasts should know any difference of time, are use∣less. The truth of this knowledge is not to be doubted; and if there be any difficulty it's to know how this knowledge may be acquired: But the im∣possibilities which are found in the manner in which we fancy the things to be done, cannot be sufficient to destroy the action and the effect, which by ex∣perience we are assured of. It were a strange way of philosophising to endeavor to prove that the Loadston doth not draw iron, because that the at∣traction of a body cannot be made by a simple qua∣lity.

In the mean time M.C. useth herein no other means, and beleeves to have proved, That Ani∣mals know not the time, because, as he conceives, there is no image which can represent it. But what? doth he pretend to know all the secret of these images? doth he know what it is, how they are formed, and how they represent the objects? What the most knowing have discovered herein, is but the least part of what Nature hath kept hid from them; and although they are sure that they are, and that they are serviceable to knowledge, they have reason to doubt of all the surplusage which concerns them.

I would fain ask M. C. how he conceives that Motion is represented by the image which is pre∣served thereof in the Memory; and how a thing which is fixed and permanent, can express another which hath nothing that's stable, and is in a con∣tinual flux. For my part, I finde it as difficult to comprehend how Time may be represented by any image. And if M. C. grants that there is one of Motion, although he knows not how it may be re∣presented, he knows not why he says that there is none of time, because according to his opinion none can represent it; for there is an equal reason either to receive them for the one and for the other, on what we experiment, that the Imagination knows them both, or to refuse them on this, that we know not how to represent them. But we are more nearly to examine M. C. reasons; other∣wise he would beleeve we meant to baffle him with these subtilties, and according to his custom he might brag we had not answered them, what cause

soever we had not to stop there for the reason we have already given.

The Imagination may know the Time past.

M C's first Reason is, That the Imagination knows the absent ill without discerning that it is ab∣sent, because absence hath no images no more then other privations; and so the Memory being unable to represent them, the Imagination which is a material Faculty, cannot know it.

There are several ways to answer this Objection. First, M. C confouds here the past ill with the ab∣sent ill, although they be two different things, seeing there are absent ills which are not past; and if we apply these words to Time, as M.C. doth, it is still certain, That to be absent makes not the difference essential of the Time past; Be∣cause the absence is a privation which cannot enter into the essence of a reall thing, such as Time is. And therefore the time past is not past, in that it is absent, but its absent for that its past. Whence you may judge that the absence is but an accident which happens to Time; and that consequently, the Imagination may know the time past, without knowing it to be absent, since the time past is to be known by its true difference, which ought to be re∣al and not privative.

But it may be demanded what the difference is, which may come to the knowledge of the Imagina∣tion? Certainly, if Time is the successive durance of motion, or to observe the terms of the Schools, if it be the number and destinction of the parts of motion, as that some flow before and others after∣wards, its certain that the number of the parts of

motion which flow first makes the difference of the time past; Now there is nothing herein which the Imagination may not know; for the distinction and the effective number of things which are sensible may be known by the Senses; So the Senses may know three Men, three Horses, because Man and Horse are sensible things. If it be therefore true that motion is sensible, as M. C. avows, the number of motion ought to be so too; and if the Senses cannot know the motion without knowing the precedent parts, because Motion speaks Succession; and who speaks Succession supposeth something which prece∣ded; of Necessity, the Senses must know the parts which have flown, and must therfore know the num∣ber of the parts of motion, which did flow before the rest. Now this is to know the Time past. With∣out doubt M.C. did not consider the wrong he did his own cause, when the truth forced him to confess that Sense knew Motion; neither did he foresee the reason and the consequence which we have now drawn from thence: But to give him sa∣tisfaction in some other thing, I shall grant him, that absence is a privation and a negation of a being, so as he will remember the distinction we pro∣duced, pag. 72. where we said there were direct and oblique negations. For by this means we may both be satisfied, he to find the proposition which he hath produced to be true for direct negations which cannot be known by the Imagination; and I to have shewed that oblique Negations may at least by accident be thereby known. Thus we may to∣gether judge, that the Imagination knows not the absence and the privation which happens to Time

past; But it knows the Time past deprived of the absent thing, to wit of the Time present. And that by separating the image of the present, with that of the time which is run away, it by accident knows, that is to say by this separation, that the time past is distinct and separate from the present, and that consequently it is not present; That in fine it forms an image of that oblique absence, for as much as the separation is a modification of the images, and that this modification passeth for an image, since it represents the thing separate, as we have more amply shewen in the 73 and 74 pages:

M. C's. second is, That the differences of time as abstracted or joyned with the things have no material image which can represent them to the Imagination; and that as a Man can never say that the eyes see a soul, although joyned with the body, because the soul hath no image to joyn with that of the body, its the same with the differences of time.

All this Discourse is but a Paralogism which sup∣poseth what is in question, and compares things which are of several genders, and have nothing common amongst them: The differences of time are sensible, since motion is sensible, and that the number of things which are sensible is also sensible. Now the number of motion makes the differences of time, and therefore the differences of time are sensible; and consequently they have material images, since they cannot be sensible without having some kind of images; so that the Soul which is not sensible, ought not, nor cannot be compared with the differences of Time which are sensible.

And M. C. could thereupon conclude no∣thing.

The Imagination may know the Time to come.

The thrid is particular for the time to come; for it imports That if the Imagination knows not the differences of time, but when then are conjunctive with the things, its impossible it should know the time to come, since it cannot know with what thing it is to be conjoyned, for as much as it ought to be present; and if it were present, the time to be conjoyned to it must also be present; Being not therefore present, it can furnish no image neither to the Memory nor to the Imagination.

Observe this for another Paralogism, which is grounded on the word Thing which M. C. under∣stands of the material & exterior object, instead that it ought to be understood of the formal object, that is to say of the image, or of the thing repre∣sented; for when we say we know the differences of time conjoyned with the things, it's as much as if we had said with the images of the things; other∣wise the Understanding it self could not know the time past, nor the future conjoyned with the things, for as much in effect, the one are no more, and the others are not yet: It's therefore true that the I∣magination cannot know the difference of the time to come, unless she have the image of the object, to which it adds this circumstance. Let not M.C. insist upon its being present, because it's present as to the actual existence, and not as to the manner

of representing. It must be truly in the Imagi∣nation to represent the thing to come, even as that of past things ought to be there, to make us re∣member that they be past.

But how can it be in the Imagination, since the object it represents is not yet, and that the copy cannot be before the original? Certainly we are not to beleeve that a thing which never was, and which hath not past through the Senses, could ever be in the Imagination, neither that it could be known as future; the Senses must formerly have made it known to make us judge that it's to come, and that to the image which the present, object furnisheth, the soul afterwards adds the circumstance of the future time. Had the A∣nimal never resented blows, he would never fear to suffer those to come; and when that happens his Imagination doth onely add the difference of the time to the image it formed thereof when it received them; or to speak home, she forms an image like to that which she hath in the Memory, and adds thereunto the circumstance of the Time to come.

There is more difficulty to say how she con∣ceives this difference of time; for although the mo∣tion be sensible, and that the number of the parts ought to be so too; it is certain that there is great reason to doubt, whether those which are not yet run, and which consequently as yet are not, may beat the Sense which is onely touched by objects which are actually present. Yet this doubt may be satisfied by saying, that the word sensible is not restrained to the exterior Senses, and that it also

marks those things which are known by the interior Senses. Now the Imagination may raise it self a∣bove the exterior Sences, and form to it self Ima∣ges, which these have not suggested. So it judg∣eth that food is good or ill, that a thing is a friend or an enemy, which are notions which the exterior Sense cannot furnish it withal, and which may be said to be sensible, since they are of the re∣sort of the sensitive Faculty. As a man therefore is assured by experience, that Animals which fear and desire, know the future; It must needs be that if the external Senses cannot afford that knowledge which in their default the Imagination supplies, and that it adds this circumstance of time to the object which they represent unto it; Which is nothing difficult for it to do, if we consider that it may re∣member it self of a past motion, and that by con∣sequence the image of that motion is preserved in the Memory. For it must then be that this image represents the flux and succession which was in this Motion, which being so, when she sees that a thing presently moves, it may figure to it self that it may continue to move; and in this continuation where∣of it may form the image, since it hath the mo∣del thereof in the Memory are comprised those parts of motion, which are to succeed, and there∣fore it may know those parts, it may therefore know the parts to come.

On the other side, if it be true, That time is no∣thing but the number of motion, as it hath parts, some whereof are before, and others after; it must of necessity be, that if the motion be sensible, as all the world agrees, Time must be so too: Since mo∣tion

cannot be known but by the parts run out and to run; now to know them so, is to know the num∣ber of the motion, is to know Time past and Time to come, and consequently the Motion cannot be sensible, but the Time must be so also. In effect, its the property of those things which are in a con∣tinual flux, that they have no part which is not past or to pass, otherwise there would be some one of them permanent, against the nature of successive things; Wherefore all the Schools constantly hold that there is nothing actually present in Time, nor in Motion, but a point or indivisible instant, which ties the past parts with those to come; and to speak exactly, there is no part of Time nor of Motion which is actually present.

But how then can the Senses know them, for they can onely be touched by what is actually pre∣sent; and there is nothing present but an instant, which being indivisible cannot be the object of the Senses. The School answers this, That the instant is not truly sensible of it self, but that it is so by ac∣cident; and that in the same manner, as the points of a line are not sensible of themselves, be∣cause they are indivisible, and are so by accident; to wit, because they bind parts which are sensible of themselves; the instant must also be sensible be∣cause it binds sensible parts; otherwise if they were not sensible, that would be no ways sen∣sible.

Let's then say, since there is nothing in Motion which is actually present but an instant, and that the instant is sensible, but by the parts of motion those parts must be sensible: Now as they cannot

be known but as successive, and that as the one goes before and the other follow after; it must neces∣sarily be that the time past and the time to come must be sensible, since the parts of motion as they go before and after, make these differences of time; and because these parts are not actually present, and consequently cannot touch the exterior Senses, its necessary the Imagination should supply their de∣fect, and that she alone should not onely know the parts of Time, but even that of Motion also, since Motion is sensible, and that there is nothing which may touch the exterior Senses.

Time is amongst sensible Objects.

But it may be said, that I lose my time to use all these reasons against M. C. Let's therefore go no further, and content our selves to take him from the astonishment wherein he is, p. 153. For that no body hath placed time amongst sensible objects, and that Aristotle was not advised to convince those by Sense who denyed the existence of Time.

For the first, he must therefore remember, that when the genders of things are observed, there is no need to specifie in particular all what is com∣prehended under them. Philosophy hath placed Number and Motion amongst the genders of sen∣sible objects, and consequently it was not necessa∣ry to place time in the same rank, since its com∣prehended in those genders, and that in effect it's nothing but the number of Motion. So that we may say, that there is no body which hath not placed Time amongst sensible objects, although

no body have placed it for a gender amongst sen∣sible objects.

As for the second, Aristotle needed not to convince those by sence who denied the existence of the time present, since he beleeved it no more then they did; and it's from him that we have learned, that in time there was nothing present, but an in∣divisible Moment, which is not truly Time: For as for the past Time and the Time to come, there never were any Philosophers which have not ac∣knowledged them, and there was therefore no need to convince them by the sense of a Truth on which they were all agreed. And although A∣ristotle proposed at the beginning of the Discourse he makes Reasons to prove that Time is nothing; yet are they not so to be taken for proofs whereon some have grounded their beleif, but for doubts which are usually made before the Truth of things be established, as his own proper terms witness, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. After all, had there been men extravagant enough to have had that thought, and that this great man had not by sense con∣vinced them, it would not follow that Time were not sensible, and M. C. who is not ignorant of the Laws of Logick, knows well that these kinde of consequences are not receiveable.

That the Imagination hath Images, of which the Senses give it no Knowledge.

We must here forget a fourth Reason produced by M.C. against the time past; although he hath unloosed it from the pursuit of the precedents. He

then says, Page 154. That the Sensitive Memory hath no Images but those which it hath received by the Senses, when the Object was present. So that never having had any of the Time when it was present, it cannot get those of the future.

It is pitty this Reason should not be good, having so fair an appearance; but by mischance it happens that all it's propositions are false. For, for the first, Animals may remember Dreams and Chimera's which they formed in their sleep in the absence of objects. And as they are different from the things which the Senses have represented unto them, it follows that the Memory wherein they preserved themselves, hath other Images then those which it did receive by the Senses when the object was present. On the other side, the modification of Images which depends from the Actions of the Imagination, such as are Union, Separation, and the like, are not furnished for the exterior Senses, in the mean while they form themselves in the ab∣sence of exterior objects, and afterwards preserve themselves in the Memory.

In fine, Beasts remember whether things are good or evill, friends or foes, although the Sen∣ses have not furnished them with the knowledge hereof, nor by consequence with the Images by means of which they should know them, and re∣member themselves. To rectifie therefore M.C's. Proposition we must say, That the Memory hath no Images but those it hath received from the Senses, or from the Imagination which may form them in the ab∣sence of objects, the Sense contributing nothing there∣unto.

But in this case his second Proposition is absolutely false, and quite useless to our design; for the Memory may receive the Image of the pre∣sent time, which the Imagination may have formed, although even it were not true, that sense knows this difference of time; thus the Memory may have an image of the time past, since the Imagination fur∣nisheth it with that of the present. Without doubt he will tell me, That Memory is onely for past things, and therefore that the present hath no place in it, otherwise it must at once be present and past. But there is no inconvenience therein since it's past as to the exterior object, and that it's present as to the Representation; Forasmuch as the images of the things which the Imagination hath known pre∣sent enter into the Memory with that circumstance of time, and this now represents them as present, although in effect they are past. And the soul must afterwards add the circumstance of the time past to remember it self that they are past. Bur we have sufficiently cleared these difficulties in our prece∣dent Discourses.

How the knowledge of Time is reserved to the Ʋnderstanding.

There remains therefore nothing but the take∣ing away of one scruple which he hath on what is said, That the knowledge of Time is one of the most subtile and most difficult that our soul is capable of, and which for that cause it was always reserved to the Ʋnderstanding.

This ought not to stop him quite, since he well

knows that the Understanding subtiliseth on all the most sensible things, and that it considers them o∣therwise then the Imagination can. The entire and perfect knowledge of time comprehends many diffi∣culties, which cannot be decided but by it; and af∣ter having learnt of the Senses that time is some∣what, it's the onely one that can explicate what it is, and how far it can know it: For you are not to imagine when we say that the Imagination knows the time to come, that it knows the future through all its extent, nor all kind of things which are to come. This ought not to be understood but of those which the present object bring back to the Memory, and which she figures to herself ought quickly to arrive; as we may judge by the passi∣ons in which Animals have need of this knowledge. So when we assure that time is sensible, we under∣take not once the Office or Function of the Un∣derstanding; and to give to the Senses this small knowledge, we diminish neither the great∣ness nor the elevation it affords its own, which we confess with M. C. to be one of the most subtile and most difficult of which it is ca∣pable.

After this M.C. concludes, p. 154. That Sense suffi∣ciently knows the motion which is made in the pre∣sent Time, but it knows not the Time wherein its made; otherwise there would be a sensible knowledge, which could not be made by the entermixion of Images. 2. That the Images of what is past are truly pre∣served in the Memory: but that that represents not that it is no more, because they cannot represent a negation of being. That in fine its a certain mark

that the Imagination takes no consideration of the time, for that the images of a past ill produce the same effect upon it, as if it were present.

Although all this Discourse be but a repetition of the Reasons which M. C. hath here before pro∣posed, and that we have already fully answered them: Yet because he hath often taken my silence for a conviction, and that he hath beleeved in se∣veral places, wherein I would not amuse my self, for that they did not deserve an answer, he had re∣duced me to an inability of answering him; I must not stay here without a Reply, and I ought at least to make him remember cases already judged. For we have shewed, 1. That the Imagination might form Images, which the exterior Senses could not furnish it withal; that the knowledge which followed those images was sensible, since it proceeded from a sensitive faculty, and therefore that there was no inconvenience, that there might be a sensible knowledge, which need not be from the intermission of species from without.

2. That the Imagination might represent to it self oblique Negations, and that that was suffici∣ent to know that the objects were no more.

3. That all the differences of Time were sen∣sible, and that even the present was so at least by accident, whether this knowledge were proper to the internal Senses, or whether it were made by the exterior Senses. In fine, that the Images of several differences of time might be preserved to∣gether in the Memory, and that the Imagination might consider them the one after the other, that

thus the past ill might be considered as present or as future; and that where it caused the same effects it had caused being present or to come, it was no longer as past, but as present or as to come.

Having taken away all these difficulties which stopt M.C. touching the knowledge which the Ima∣gination hath of things present and to come: Its seems there is nothing more which can be opposed to the reason we have deduced from the Custom and instruction which we give to Beasts: For since present threats make them remember the blows they received with their first lessons, and that the remembrance of those blows which are past makes them fear those to come, the Imagination must needs unite the Image of the threat with that of the blows which they have received, and in pursuit, that they joyn the image of those blows, with those others which they apprehend.

And truly I expect from M. C. ingenuity, that after having maturely considered all these things, he will finde some confusion in his Mind for have∣ing so lightly condemned me of error and artifice in the most part of my Reasons; for he saith at the entrance of the Examen which he makes of the pre∣cedent, That there is not in it the least appearance of Truth, and that whereas I do in some other rea∣sonings insinuating errors by the means of some Truths; herein I have not used that artifice, but fight onely with Arguments in which there is not one true Proposition to be found.

What! Is it not true then, that Beasts remem∣ber the good and evil that's past? Is it not true, that they desire, and that they fear those which are

to come? Is it not true, that the presence of cer∣tain objects, having replaced in their Memories those which they have formerly received, makes them afterwards fear the like? What will it be thought to conclude ill, that since they do all these things, their imagination must go from the one to the other, that it must unite images, and that it must form as many propositions as it makes unions? For my part, I must clearly confess to M. C. that if those who shall be Judges of our differences can be of his opinion, I will set my self to write as false against Philosophy, against Reason, and against Sense, and I will abandon them all as deceivers, which have abused us, and that instead of serving us as instruments for the knowledg of the Truth, they corrupt it and hide it from us.

But without running to these extremities into which there is no likelihood I should ever fall, M.C. is to be excused of the ill opinion which he conceived against my first Work: I will indeed deal more civilly with him then he hath done with me; and that I may not altogether condemn him, I must confess that he may have found in my dis∣course such defects as may have ingaged him to that sense, I having obliged my self to render them the shortest I could possibly; there are many places wherein I suppose certain knowledges which must be had from elsewhere, or my Ratiocinations would be must streightned; and in which I do but cast the seeds of a great many inductions, which may be drawn from them. And without doubt that briefness did hide from M. C's eyes the greatest part of the evidence and force of my rea∣sons,

and hath made Truths appear unto him as er∣rors, and order as the subtilties of a Sophist. But I ought also to beleeve, that after having corrected my self for those defects, and having taken away all those obscurities which he met withal by long ex∣plications, he will no longer accompt, as they say, Truth for Injustice, but will ingeniously confess that he hath maintained an ill cause; at least, that I have not ill defended mine, and that my proposi∣tions are not so erroneous, nor extravagant, as he fancied them.

To wit, whether without Ratiocination the Images of the Memory move the Imagination as if the objects were present.

To continue therefore the design I have begun, I shall advertise him, That he should not abuse himself with the experiences he here produceth, since they are neither for him, nor against him. In effect, when he says that by them he will prove, That without reasoning the Images of the Memory move the Imagination in the same manner, as if the objects were present; What can he thence con∣clude to my prejudice? Should I grant all those experiences, they are but particular facts, which hinder not but that there may be others wherein the Imagination confers the present with the past, and from thence draws consequences for the future. Besides, that its easie to make it appear, that in most part of those, he produceth the Imagination makes the same progress. For when a Child cryes seeing an object like to that which formerly had hurt it, it is

fear doubtless which makes him cry. Now this passion supposeth an evil to come, and therefore the present object makes that Childe remember the evill it suffered, and afterwards causeth it to fear the like: And when it rejoyceth at the sight of the Nurses Breast, if it be from the desire and hope of sucking, his Imagination doth the self same thing. If there be onely the remembrance of the past pleasure which rejoyceth it, it's a fact no more like ours, since it respects but the present and the past; and that in instruction the Mind considers not onely present and past objects, but even those which are to come. Its even so when the remem∣brance of a good tale makes us laugh, or when the encounter of a person who hath done us ill, gives us a sence of aversion, because therein there is no express consideration of the future. Yet let not M.C. for this imagine, that I beleeve the Imagi∣nation reasons not in these passions, although it confers not the past with the future; it hath other means then that to reason; and if he will well consi∣der the last of my Reasons which after this, I shall explicate, he will see That the Appetite is never moved but in pursuit of some Ratiocina∣tion.

As for the example of Cassander, Who without shaking could not look upon the Statue of Alexan∣der; It's certain, that this proceeded from the fear which the remembrance of that Princes anger mo∣ved in his mind, and that he then represented to himself the danger he was in at that time when Alexander was angry with him. That's to say, he still considered it as ready to come. It therefore

from thence follows not that the Ratiocination he made in these encounters was like that which is to be found in the instruction of Beasts. When these hear a threat like to that which they have formerly heard, and which was followed with blows, they ought rightly to think, that since such a thing for∣merly caused their ill, that which presents it self be∣ing like it, ought also to cause them the like ill. But there is nothing in the example of Cassander which relates to this. Alexanders Statue hath not that resemblance which was necessary to oblige him to conclude after that manner; it must have been that that must have been angry, that must have threatned, and that must have been capable to have done him harm; in this case he had had rea∣son to think, that since Alexander had formerly done him ill, this Statue being like him ought also to cause the same ill. In fine, in the instruction of Beasts there is always two alike causes, that which is past, whose effect is also past; and that which is present, whose effect is to come; and both the one and the other enter into the discourse which the Imagination makes. But here there is onely the past cause which comes back to the Memory; and al∣though the Statue be present, it enters not into the Ratiocination of Cassander, it onely awakens the Notions which compose it. M.C. hath therefore very ill taken his measures when he compares these two reasonings together, and very wrongfully en∣deavors to oblige us to beleeve, That that of Beasts is not made as we have said, because we do not beleeve that Cassanders was so made.

What he adds of the Scythian slaves, who after

having overcome their Masters in several battels, were at last routed at sight of the whips, which were shewed unto them, when they were ready to re∣ingage. It is so far from prejudicing my proposi∣tion, that it confirms it, and supposeth that beasts use the same form of reasoning when they are in∣structed: For it's certain that this surprise made them fear, and that this fear was grounded on the ill to come, by the remembrance which those rods gave them, that their Masters had formerly cha∣stised them therewith. So that they judged it fit, that since those rods wherewith their Masters were armed, were like those with which they had for∣merly been beaten, they ought again to apprehend from them the like effect. And M. C. vainly la∣bours to destroy this Discourse, when he says, That if they had had the leasure to reason and confer all these things, they had never bin so frighted, and that the first reasonings they made was to condemn their first motions which are not submitted to reason. For besides that there needed but a moment for all this, he according to his custom confounds intellectual Reason with that of the Imagination, as we have shewed him elsewhere. And there needed no other answer for those panick fears, since he says, That it is the same as of what happened to these Slaves. But I will add that since it's the same thing, it follows that they are the effects of a true Syllogism; And that as the Ratiocination which these slaves made was apparently good, and had no proposition which was evidenly false, it must of necessity be if what M. C. say be true, that it must be the same with that which devanceth all other panick terrors.

Let him no more object the Syllogism he makes Cassander make, that mans fear will never strengthen his party, as we have now shewed; and if he would beleeve me, he ought to ask help from some other Captain who is more bold then this.

From all these rare experiences M.C. deduceth marvellous inductions, which having already satis∣fied, we will not stay much upon them. 1. He says, That in all these encounters its neither the pre∣sent objects nor apprehensions of the future which moves the Fancy. But we have already shewed the contrary.

2. That the Images of past objects residing in the Memory, the Imagination need form no others, since those are sufficient. All our second part is imployed in consuting this proposition which destroys the na∣ture of Knowledge.

3. That Images which can onely come from pre∣sent objects, can also onely represent them but as pre∣sent, and that they canaot be again communicated to the Imagination, but they must needs move it, as they had done formerly, the same cause ever produ∣cing the same effect. And that from thence it follows that the absent object works on the Appetite as if it were present; and that as being present it stirs up the Appetite without imploying any discourse, it may being absent do the same thing. For this, we have made it appear that there are modifications which the soul adds to the images, which it receives from present objects. That the differences of time are of that kind, and that so a present object may be considered both as past and as to come; Whence

it follows that one of these Images being again communicated to the Imagination may move the Appetite after another manner, then when at the first it entred into the Mind. And that afterwards it cannot pass for one and the same cause, since its diversified by a new circumstance.

As for his first Proposition which imports, That since the present object moves the Appetite without discourse the ascent may do the same thing. I shall willingly grant it him in the hypothesis of the time we are in, so as the object be onely known as present or absent; For if the Imagination goes from the one to the other, and chiefly if it draws consequences from it for the future, we cannot doubt but the present and absent object must move the Appetite by means of the discortses which in these encounters the Imagination makes. Now it is certain that in all the examples which he hath pro∣posed the Soul makes a progress from one differ∣ence of time to another and therefore she reasons; and therefore all M.C's. induction is vain.

But wherefore do we so long insist on those things which we have elsewhere decided, and what can we do in repeating them so often, but as often we must afflict M.C. with the remembrance of his first defea••? Yet this is not generously to overcome him; we must spare shaming a vanquished enemy, and not use him ill when he hath given up his arms. Let us therefore pass to other matters, and without speaking any more of all these differences of time wherein M C. hath lost himself, let us see whe∣ther what he hath said of the Custom may repair his losses, and whether it destroys any of my propo∣sitions.

Of Custom, and that it cannot be acquired without Reason.

It is true that I have said, That if one could do such things which one were accustomed unto, with∣out using reason; yet it's impossible to accustom ones self thereunto without the use of reason. And that those who say that Beasts do things out of custom, tacitly confess that they are reasonable. To prove this, I have supposed that Memory was necessary to accustom ones self to do any thing and that to reiterate the same actions one must remem∣ber ones self of them, otherwise they would not be like, or at least the first would leave no disposi∣tion for the others to do better. That in fine it was an assured thing that in the common and ordi∣nary actions which beasts by custom do, they at first remember themselves of the good or ill which hath happened to them for having done them, and that without that they could not afterwards have accustomed themselves to have done them again; On these foundations I have concluded that on this occasion they have the same necessity of reasoning which they have when they are instructed, because they must needs unite the images of the present ob∣jects with that of past things, of which they re∣member themselves, and from thence they draw consequences for the future.

Against all these Truths M. C. opposeth two things, the one at the end of his 17. Chapter, whereby he pretends to shew, That Memory is not necessary for all kinds of habits; the other is at the

head of the same Chapter, where he imploys a many examples to prove, That we accustom our selves to several things whereto Reason can no way serve.

Had I to do with a man who were content with a few words, I would in two words tell him, that all this makes nothing against me, and is contrary to his own sense; That I speak of the Custom of Beasts which requires the assistance of Memory, and where∣in M. C. confesseth himself that it is necessary. And that without stopping at the rest, its suffici∣ent for me that there may be any one found which may be acquired without it; Since that alone may maintain the induction which I made, and prove that Beasts reason, at least on this occasion. But because its a man who loves contests, and seeks a noise, I shall sally out of my trenches, and enter the Lists with him, were it but as they say for the Ladies.

Let us then see what the first assault will be: After having related what I have said concerning Custom; to wit, that it's formed by several acti∣ons which leave in the powers a certain facility of operating. And that this facility consists either in a quality which resides in the organs, or in a more perfect knowledge which the soul may have acqui∣red by more express images, which afterwards makes the stronger impression on the Appetite, and on the motive vertue of the parts: and that its in∣different to me how the thing be done, so as we know that the memory is necessary thereunto.

He adds, That he findes almost nothing to gain-say in all that Discourse. And for my part, I also

find nothing to gain-say but that he therein makes me speak barbarously; For although I do not h••ed his manner of speaking; yet I cannot suffer him to give himself the liberty to change mine; and as the purity of language is the onely thing which he esteems in my Discourse, I shall have a very great care to preserve it, since it hath had the honour to merit his approbation. Howsoever I am not so well pleased with his discourse as he is with mine; for there is not one onely proposition which I will not undertake to gain-say. 1. When he avers That its as indifferent to him as to me what sense is had of Custom, for if it be swelled species, &c. He confounds the facility of operating with the Custom, without remembring th••t Custom makes Facility; and that the Question is not so much what that of Custom is, but to know what that of Facility is. On the other side how can he say That its indifferent to him, since presently after its no longer indifferent to him, having sided with speculative and practical habits.

2. He adds, That if it be a Species swoln in the Memory with several knowledges, it may be acqui∣red by simple conceptions without reasoning, &c. The Question here is not of Reasoning, but to know whether Memory be not necessary to Custom. Thus against all the Rules of Logick he anticipates his Answers, and so runs to the Conclusion, with∣out satisfying the first Propositions. Besides that, if this thickned Species in the Memory may be ac∣quired without discourse, all Speculative Habits which he placeth in that gender, must needs be ac∣quired without discourse; on the other side, who

can oblige to place the nature of speculative habits in their images; for after that he must maintain, That all Habits are onely in the Memory, since these images are nowhere else preserved: I omit all other inconveniencies which follow this opini∣on, and what M. C. says in pursuit of the acts because it matters nothing to our dispute.

To wit, whether Memory is necessary to all sorts of Habits.

Let us now observe the examples he proposeth to shew that Memory is not necessary for all kinds of Habits: The first is of Children whose hands are held to teach them to write; for using to conduct them thus the habit it imprinted in them to conform themselves to the characters they see, and this custom is acquired without the Memories contributing any thing thereunto. Its what he ought to prove, for in fine children have a Memory, and it is not so easie to perswade ones self that they should so often do the same action without remembring it. But what! says he, Children form themselves to certain customs, before they have the use of Memory. It's what I shall deny him; they have indeed a weak one, but yet it's true that they use it, and that when objects strongly touch it, they remember very well, as M C. himself hath made it appear, p. 148

The second is of Porters, whose Memory is useless to them to accustom them to carry heavy burdens, be∣cause, saith he, this strength which is but a habit would remain when even they had lost their Memories.

M.C. confounds here the habit of bearing bur∣dens with strength, although they be two very dif∣ferent things; such a man may have the one and

want the other, Porters may well have them both, but they have them by several ways; strength comes to them from Nature, and habit comes from Custom; on the other side, strength is not in the rank of habits unless we should speak improperly, but it's a natural power which affords a man the vertue of acting, which habit doth not. But were it a habit, and that it might remain in a Porter af∣ter the loss of his Memory, what induction could he thence draw against me; for I never said that when a man had acquired a habit or a custom, he had need of Memory, but only that it was necessary for him to acquire it; and for that cause that Animals cannot acustom themselves to whatsoever it be without the help of Reason and of Memory, al∣though it may be that they may afterwards without it do those things which they accustomed them∣selves unto. Yet for all this, I do not cease to be∣lieve but that all true habits have need of Memory; and that who ever should lose it, would also lose the use of all other habits he hath acquired, how perfect soever they were. But since I did not ex∣plicate my self thereupon, why will M. C. di∣vine my thought and find inconveniences in things which I never yet said? Yet do I not insist hereup∣on, since he at last remits himself to Reason and confesseth, (pag 159) That this faculty is necessa∣ry for several actions which Beasts perform, and the good and ill which happens to them, remains in their Memory, and afterwards obligeth them to reject the same actions; for although he denies, that it is on the hope or fear that the same good or the same ill might happen unto them; It is very likely that

after he hath seen the Reasons which we have used to maintain this truth, he will presently yeeld up the Cudgels. For my part, I find the proceedings therein held very equitable, and I very much approve the prudence he had, to expect till I had evidently made him see that Beasts fear and hope, and that they confer the time past with the future, before he oblige himself to beleeve it. I even maintain that in the quality which he here takes of a Defender, he might in conscience say, That there was no Ratioci∣nation therein without being obliged to produce Rea∣sons to the contrary. And that if he did so, it was as he says, Superabundance of right, and out of pure zeal which he had for the Truth; But also this same prudence and this same zeal engage him to change his opinion, now he hath wherewithal to satisfie his doubts, and those things which were ob∣scure unto him now present themselves clear and e∣vident. It's an advice which I give him for his own sake; for he may well think that it concerns not me, and that what part soever he takes, my cause will nei∣ther be better nor worse.

To wit, Whether one may accustom ones self to some things without Reasoning.

Let us examine the other point, where by new examples he would shew, That we accustom our selves to several things whereto reason is nothing serviceable. For it is here that he triumphs and flat∣ters himself with the advantage he thinks he hath over me, for that I had not answered to those he had formerly proposed on the same subject; I con∣fess

I did not answer to them because I ought not to have done it. And M. C. wrongs himself to make use of it, since 'tis a mark wherein he beleeves the decisive point of the question we have in hand is, without perceiving that its therein altogether useless. Nay I shall repeat it again. I pretend to speak onely of custom and habits in which he him∣self says, that Memory is necessary; and it's suf∣ficient for me if Animals have some one of that Nature, to conclude that they could not have ac∣quired them without reasoning, since they must have conferred the present objects with those which were past and those which were to come, as we have said. So that if there were others in which this progress is not made, in good time be it; as I hinder him not, so it also hinders not my conse∣quence from being good and true.

But what, all these few Observations he hath made must they lye on his hands, without his drawing any advantage from them? no indeed, how slight soever they be, we must disburthen him of them, and at the same time shew him for what they may be good. Which I will not do as he doth out of superabundance of right, since it matters no∣thing to our question, but out of the onely desire which I have to make him know the truth But we must first bring them to light that the Reader may know what we are upon, and that he may give judgment from the knowledge of the cause.

The first is, Of Children, who accustom them∣selves to several things before they have the use of Reason. The second is, From the stomack which accustoms it self to certain means, and which regu∣lates

its hunger at certain hours. The third is, Of the Liver, which accustoms it self to make the more blood, the oftener we are let blood. The fourth is, Of the fluxious which accustom themselves to fall on certain parts. The fifth is, Of the external Senses which acquire habits, some persons having been found who have accustomed themselves to the taste of Woormwood, and to the smell of stinking things &c. The sixth is, From the common Sense which takes a custom of sleeping and waking at regulated hours. The seventh, the eighth and the ninth is, From the Memory. from the Appetite, and from the motive vertue which acquires habits; from all this he con∣cludes, that it not necessary to accustom ones self to any thing, to make use of reason. Since there is not one of these things which he hath proposed, which is reasonable, nor any of their effects wherein reason appears.

First when he says, That reason herein is not necessa∣ry he intends intellectual Reason, since he acknow∣ledgeth none other; and in that sense I grant him all what he says; but our difference is not therein; it con∣sists to know whether the Imagination reasons not in these encounters. In the second place, he im∣ploys the word Custom, without observing the se∣veral significations it hath, and indifferently ap∣plies it to several things, without telling us that it properly belongs to the one, and improperly to others, which yet were necessary to induce what he pretends; for I have reason to retort all his ex∣amples, in which this word hath not its true and proper signification. M C. should have remem∣bred that Custom and Habit are active disposi∣tions,

and cannot be properly applyed to passives, wherefore when they say, That a Man accustoms himself to heat and cold that the stomack accustoms it self to certain meats, that some have accustom∣ed themselves to finde the taste of Woormwood plea∣sant, &c. This word hath not therein its natural signification, because that in all these kinds of speaking we mean nothing else but that we ac∣custom our selves to suffer those objects, and that the facility we finde therein is a pure, material and passive disposition, which the use of these things hath left in the organs.

In effect, we accustom our selves to heat, be∣cause the impression of heat remains in the parts, and makes that what comes afterwards operates not so powerfully on the body, which is already imbued with that quality. It's the same with odors, favors, and other sensible objects; which by means of striking the Senses, leave a certain character in them, which renders the organs most like the ob∣jects, and the objects more familiar to the organs; There is not therefore therein a true custom; No more then when we say, that a fluxion is accustom∣ed to fall on some place; for 'tis but a passive dis∣position which comes from the weakness of the parts which cannot resist the over-flowings of the humors which cast themselves on them. Add That it is not the flux which accustoms it self; for that which is fallen never falls again; But it is nature which commonly dischargeth it self on the weakest parts, or rather its those same parts which out of weakness are more capable to receive those super∣fluities wiich they receive from elsewhere. How∣ever

it be, these are manners of speaking which are good for the people and not for Philosophers. And besides its in that rank you must place, The custom which the Liver takes to make the more blood in those who are often let blood. For the Liver hath no more fa∣cility in making of it then, then when a man is sel∣dom let blood. But 'tis by this evacuation that the parts empty themselves, and that Nature labors to make the more blood to fill them. In fine, as we ne∣ver say, that there is a true Custom or any Habit in the seasons, and in other inanimate things; although we say that the Winter is accustomed to be rainy, that the earth is accustomed to be fertile in such pla∣ces, &c. We must beleeve, that when we use these kind of speeches for the natural actions of the body its figuratively, or by an abuse; and that a man who cannot distinguish these things deserves not to enter into the secrets of Nature, nor to take place amongst Philosophers.

After all this, if M.C. would opiniaster himself to maintain that there is a true custom in all those observations which he produceth; Could we not tell him, that as they are all taken from Animals, they leave the suspition that the Imagination con∣curs thereunto; and that therefore they are not performed without the Ratiocination of that Facul∣ty. Certainly to have taken away all cause of doubt, he should have made use of examples drawn from insensible things, as Stones, Plants, &c. Then there had been no more difficulty, & we should have been constrained to confess, that Custom needs not the help of the Memory and of Reason. But since all these parts which he says accustomed themselves to

certain things, are indewed with sense, and that everywhere, where there is sense the Imagination must agitate. Are we not to beleeve that they have accustomed themselves thereunto by Knowledge, and that the images which form this Knowledge preserve themselves in the Memory, and make the soul remember the first actions, that it may after∣wards perform the like, whence at last comes faci∣lity and habit? No, let not M.C. deceive himself, the Imagination and the Memory agitate not alone in the Head. Although they recide there as in their Throne, and there perform their most consi∣derable actions, they spread themselves through all the sensible parts, and perform often operations of which they give no knowledge to this principal organ, and therein imitate Princes, who act many things in the several parts of the State without com∣municating ought to their counsel. It's thus that so many sentiments are made in the Members with∣out our preception: It's thus, that the Memories remains in the fingers of a Luthenest after he hath forgot all his peeces. It's thus that the vertue for∣matrix forms the images it hath received from the Imagination, when it imprints those wonderful marks on the bodies of children during the wo∣mens being with child, they neither knowing nor remembring themselves thereof. But we reserve to the third Volume of our Characters which we are about to publish, the full discovery of this truth. In the mean time let's conclude this unpro∣fitable Examen of M: C's. examples, since we agree to what he intends to prove, to wit, That Custom may be acquired without the help of In∣tellectual

Reason. And that its very likely, that having well considered the proofs we have produ∣ced to shew that the Imagination reasons, he will also agree with us, That the custom he speaks of can never be acquired but by the Discourse of the Ima∣gination.

CHAP. V. Examen of M. C. Objections against our last proof of the Reasoning of Beasts.

THe last proof which we gave of the Reason of Beasts was, That the motion of their Appetite, which ought to preceed all the actions which they perform, is never made, without being devanced by three Propositions. The 1. That the thing is good. The Second, That it's feasible. The Third, That it must be done. And that these Propositions are linked together with common terms, and the one drawing its evidence from the other, they must form a perfect Ratiocination.

This Reason which we imployed to shew, that the actions of the Instinct are all made with Ratio∣cination pleaseth not M.C. First in that I suppose that those actions are motions of the Appetite; and he says, That he is too knowing in these matters, and too hard to be perswaded to beleeve it, without its having been proved to him; Yet for compliance

sake he will grant it, that he may make it appear, that the Appetite needs none of these Proposi∣tions.

For my part, I would not have him lose the merit of such an extraordinary civility, I here accept of the favor he doth me, at least until we come to the Examen of the Instinct; for I then hope to make it evidently appear, not that these Actions are motions of the Appetite, having never proposed that Pro∣position, but that they were preceded by the mo∣tion of the Appetite. And how difficult soever it may be to perswade, I am sure to convince him by the first notions of Philosophy, or to reduce him to that point as to deny them, and to fight against common sense. This Article remaining then in sus∣pence till that time; Let's now observe what he op∣poseth to the rest, Its sufficient, says he, if the ob∣ject he known by the first operation of the spirit to move the Appetite; for when one that is hunger∣starved sees bread, his Appetite without discourse is carried thereunto; and when we put our hands to the dish our Imagination discourseth not whether it be good. I cannot take it, I must therefore take it.

It seems, saving the respect which I owe M. C. he quits himself not well of his promise, for I there∣in see no proof which makes me know that the Ap∣petite needs none of these propositions; and doth he think it enough to destroy a thing simply to con∣tradict it without grounding it on any Reason, I said the Appetite hath need of propositions; and he answers, That its enough if the object be known by the first operation of the spirit; He should

therefore have proved it. For what he adds, That when one hungerstarved sees bread, he carries his Appetite thereto without discourse; cannot pass for a proof, since its the subject of our difference and contest. At furthest M. C. cannot disavow, that before the creature moves to any thing, it must be known unto it as good, and feasible and he must pro∣pose in himself to do it.

Thus the question reduceth it self to this point to know whether it forms these Knowledges by Propositions or by simple Notions: Now it's re∣solved by us both, That the Senses do not know things as good and feasible, because they receive no image of the goodness, or of the possibility, and that that belongs properly to the Imagination which adds these Notions to that of the senses; which for that cause are called in the Schools Spe∣cies non sensatae. If this be so, the imagination of necessity must have the image of the goodness, and of the possibility, and unite it with that of the ob∣ject to know it to be good and feasible. And con∣sequently she then makes affirmative Propositions, since to unite the Images, and make these Proposi∣tions is one and the same thing, as we have shewed in the second Part.

It's there where he may find the Reasons, which we had not inculcated in our first Work, thinking it the best way to treat with understanding per∣sons. There, I say, he shall finde them more in∣larged, more clear, and in my opinion more forci∣ble to perswade him That I did not seem to prove, that the Imagination makes affirmatives, but that in effect I have solidly proved it on the Principles and Maxims of the Schools.

Whilst he is busied in consulting this Chapter we shall here observe, Whether he hath reason to be surprised, as he saith, That I should perswade my self that these three Propositions make a Ratiocina∣tion: And whether he doth wisely To defie all the Logitians to make of it a reasonable Syllogism. First, I might answer him in a word, that I never said that these three Propositions made a Syllo∣gism, but that they made a Discourse, and a true Ratiocination. And as there are other reasonings beside the Syllogism; it's sufficient for my design if I prove that Beasts discourse, that they make a Ratiocination without making a Syllogism. But what! M. C. when he makes an Enthymema, when he makes a Sorites, doth he not reason? Yet he makes therein no Syllogism, at least which hath all the conditions necessary thereunto. On the other side, although a man cannot form an onely and simple Syllogism, of these three Propositions, yet a man may make a composed Syllogism, which is a true and perfect Syllogism. I confess that these three Propositions cannot assemble them∣selves but they must contain four terms, and that three can but enter into a simple Syllogism; but this forbids us not but we may make one of the two first Propositions, and that the last to be added need not pass for a new consequence, which joyn∣ed with the precedent would make a composed dis∣course of a Syllogism and of an Enthymema: Thus an Animal that would eat any thing may first have discoursed after this manner,

This Sweet is Good. This Good may be eaten. Then this Sweet may be eaten, Then it must be eaten.

But I will not have this to be an entire Syllogism, and that he should assemble as M C. says, the two first propositions in one, This thing is good and fea∣sible; and that he afterwards concludes Then it must be done. Will he not then make an Enthy∣mema of three propositions; for it is certain that one proposition copulative as that is, is worth a double proposition, since therein is a double union; for so these three propositions would compose a true discourse. And in this case M. C. was much in the wrong, To defie all the Logitians to make any Syllogism thereof, and to render them incapable to form a Discourse which Beasts themselves may make.

But (says he) to conclude the operation, there must be an universal Proposition made, which must affirm, That one must do all that is good and fea∣sible.

He is much mistaken; the particular connexion of goodness and possibility with the operation, is suf∣ficient without having an universal, as we shewed in speaking of that which was between the sweet∣ness and goodness of an aliment; for at last we must alwayes return thither; That the Animal knows the thing to be good, that he knows al∣so that its possible as the Schools resolves, and that upon these two knowledges he undertakes to

do it; so that if a connexion betwixt these antece∣dent notions and the operation be necessary, and that the Beasts must know it to act, it must also know it but as particular, since the Imagination cannot raise it self to the knowledge of universal things. Its therefore useless to add any general pro∣position to the Ratiocination which a Beast then hath, no more then in all the rest which M.C. pre∣tends ought to follow that.

For saith he, page 104. If we were obliged to perform this Ratiocination before we should resolve to eat any thing, we ought to make a second before we bring it to our mouthes, and so a third chewing of it; and to chew it, one must make a fourth, to cause the motion of the Muscles; and a fifth to send spirits thereunto. And so every stroke of the teeth, and every motion of the Appetite would require as many Syllogisms and universal Propositions, of which the Imagination is altogether uncapable.

Should I answer M. C. but out of universal Pro∣positions, which I do not admit in all these Rati∣ocinations, there is nothing herein but might be done; Perhaps he would be troubled to main∣tain the contrary, and it were to no purpose for him to say, that it were contrary to experience; for we should easily grant him that it is indeed con∣trary to the experience of the vulgar, but not con∣trary to the experience of Philosophers. Or ra∣ther we should say, that it is not against experi∣ence, since there is none at all in it, for as much as they are things which few persons have exactly con∣sidered; and as he speaks in one place very judi∣ciously, Books which have treated thereof furnish so

little help for the Examen of these kind of actions, that he cannot beleeve that any Philosopher hath deighned seriously to think thereon:

If this be so, how could any experience have been made hereof? and if there be no experience thereof, how can i•• be against experience? But I will not amuse my self to maintain things which I do not beleeve. In two words I shall say, That it is not necessary the Imagination should here make so many Ratiocinations as it figures to it self, or at least as he figures to himself? Let it suffice, that commonly she makes a perfect one for the principal action, which is the last she proposeth to herself. For all the rest, which serve but as means to arrive thereto, the notions she hath thereof are but as many consequences and shortned Enthymema's, which are drawn from the first conclusion; such as those are which heat and precipitation of dispute often oblige us to make in our conversations; Thus when a Dog would catch a Hare, he ought to know that its a good thing, and beleeve at the same time that he would catch it, and last of all that he must catch it; but to execute this design he knows he must run after it, that he must follow it such a way, that he must cast himself upon it, &c. So that after the first reasoning which consists of the afore∣said three Propositions; every of the other which he adds is worth an Enthymema; and of necessity he reasons so, since if he must take it, he must run af∣ter it; then he must pass such a way, and then he must cast himself on it, &c.

Yet we ought here to observe, that those actions which serve as means to attain to a principal end are

of two kinds, for some are compleat, others are im∣perfect; the compleat are made by the Members, as when the arm moves, when the hand takes, when the foot goes, &c. The imperfect are made by those parts which compose the Members, such as are the Muscles, the Nerves and the Spirits, &c. all the former come to the knowledge of the Ani∣mal which knows before he move himself, whe∣ther he ought to extend or bow a member, whe∣ther to advance or retire his foot; whether he ought to run, or onely to go, and so of the rest; But the latter are altogether unknown unto him. For the soul knows not the number of the Nerves, and of the Muscles, nor the particular use to which every of them is destined, although she never de∣ceive her self in the choice she makes of those which are to be imployed, which is one of the greatest marvels which is to be found in the Ani∣mal, as we shall shew in the second part of this Work. This being supposed, we say that com∣pleat actions which serve as means to one principal end are made onely by Enthymema's; but that the imperfect require none, because the Imagination hath no knowledge of them, and we must therefore r••ce out of the number of Syllogisms, which M.C: al∣ledges, those which respect the motion of the Muscles and Spirits. On the contrary, whatever we have said, that the Imagination makes no perfect discourses, but for the principal action, tis to be understood when the means are easie, and that they have no difficul∣ty or other circumstance which deserves to stop the soul from considering it; it otherwise makes the same discourses for them, as for the principal action,

as it happens in three Experiences which we have produced at the beginning of this Chapter. Thus when the Dog sees that the course is not sufficient to catch the prey, he useth slight; if he finds a stop in the way he considers, and seeks the means to surmount it; and amongst all this, the remembrance of past things, and the expectation of those to come, occupy his Imagination, and make him make at every moment the discourses which we have be∣fore mentioned.

In fine, We must judge of all this progress in proportion to what passeth in our Minds, when we form any design and endeavour to execute it. For besides abstractions and universal propositions which are proper to the Understanding, the Ima∣gination operates even as that doth. And as there are entire Ratiocinations which we make to under∣take a thing, as amongst the means which present themselves to attain it, there are some which stop us, and others which are so evident, and so easie that we make use of them without examination: And as all this is commonly done so readily that it seems there are but moments imployed therein. We must also beleeve, for the Reasons which we have so of∣ten alleadged, That Beasts act in the same manner in those designs which they undertake.

And now I beleeve M.C. will be glad to have learnt that he is twice more reasonable then he thought, and that his imagination makes a number of reasonings, of which he was not yet awares. For how ready soever the hand be to write, and the tongue to pronounce what it would express; His Imagination still goes as fast as that, and beyond

all the leasure that is necessary for him by those Ratiocinations which we have mentioned, to go be∣fore the motion of these organs. We may say its like a Painter who in a moment forms the Idea of what he would paint; but when he sets his hand to the work, he must have days and whole weeks. Writing and Speech indeed ask not so much time, but still there is an infinite distance betwixt the swiftness of the Imagination, and that of the Hand and Tongue, since that is to be done without any time, and this is ever done with time.

For the rest, I would willingly consolate M.C. Of the shame he had to stop at things so far from all appearance of Truth, were I certain of what things he intended to speak; for I know not whether they are Objections which he makes me, or the propo∣sitions which I proposed which have made him a∣shamed, the one and the other being able to lead him into confusion; in any case he ought to know that the shame to have failed is very good, but that which a man hath to learn is very bad; Let's there∣fore go on since this passion also hath that proper∣ty that she will not be spoken of.

To wit, Whether Animals doubt.

In confirmation of what I have said, That it was necessary that three Propositions in question must precede the motions of the Appetite, I have pro∣duced the example of Dogs, and Birds of prey, which often pursue not the game they see, when they judge it to be too far off. I have also pro∣posed that sometimes they seem to doubt, and are

apparently in trouble to resolve whether they ought to pursue it or no; and that in these encoun∣ters although the thing appear unto them good, yet because they judge it not feasible they under∣take it not; the operation which is the conclusion being not to be done without one of the propositi∣ons, as it happens in all true Syllogisms.

To this M.C. opposeth first, That if their doubt be but in appearance, its not just to make use of it against him; if it be true, it follows that Beasts de∣liberate.

But I answer, That he here corrupts my words and gives them another sense then they ought to have; There is a great deal of difference to say that Beasts seem to doubt, or that apparently they have some doubt; and to say that their doubt is but in appearance; the first way of expression ex∣cludes not the doubt, but the second doth. And we may say of a man who is truly in wrath, that he seems to be in wrath, and that apparently he is angry. If it be then true, that Beasts are capable of doubting, as we shall make it appear, they may in effect doubt, without our being assured thereof, because we cannot clearly know their thought; but by actions they perform we conjecture that they doubt. And then we have reason to say that ap∣parently they doubt, that is to say, That they ap∣pear to us to doubt: But not that their doubt is but in appearance, because it may happen they doubt in effect, and that a thing which is but in appearance is not really.

But let us stick no longer in words, let us exa∣mine things, and see what the Nature of doubt is;

for after that we may clearly perceive, whether Beasts are capable of forming it. Aristotle says very elegantly, that he who doubts is like to a man bound, because both the one and the other are re∣strained, and cannot go whether they will; this cannot advance forward in his way, and that can∣not make any progress in his knowledge. In ef∣fect, when he findes that the objects are not clear∣ly represented unto him, when he sees reasons and appearances contrary concerning the same thing; they are as many chains which stop him & hold him in suspence that he knows not which side to take; and whilst he remains in this neutrality, so long time he doubts, and is not assured of what he seeks. For which cause we may call Doubt a suspension of judgement which cannot determine on the things pro∣pesed unto it. Now because that to judge is to unite or divide images; this suspention cannot be con∣ceived but as a restraint which the judicative facul∣ty imposeth on it self in its function, the difficulty and uncertainty wherein she is, not permitting her to unite or separate those images which she hath formed. Yet must we not figure to our selves this restraint to be as a cessation or rest; otherwise who∣soever would not know the things, and whose spi∣rit were dull and without action, might pass for a man who were in doubt. But it is to be considered as a motion by which the Mind restrains it self, and suffers not it self to be born away whereto it had a design to go. This is to be judged of proporti∣onably to what happens to bodies that are heavy; when they are in their centre their weight agitates not, and they truly are at rest; but when they are

suspended in the air, although they are there re∣tained, yet they have a secret motion, and make always some endeavor to fall. It is even so with the judgment; when it seeks not the truth, its without action, it ceaseth to operate, its at rest; but when its suspended, that is to say, when it advanceth not, yet this marks also the motion it makes to attain to its end.

However it be, this suspension of the judicative faculty comes from the incertainty wherein she is, whether she ought to unite or separate the Images. And this incertainty proceeds from that it knows not whether the things are or are not in effect, as she hath proposed them to her self; But whence is it that she knows it not? Certainly, there are many causes which contribute thereunto, and we need on∣ly consult the Epoches of the Sceptick to find out that this defect hath divers sources. Sometimes it happens from that the Senses do not well represent the objects; for he that hath a weak sight, or who looks on any thing through a thick air, or at too great a distance, hath reason to doubt whether what he perceives be such in effect as his eyes figure it to be; sometimes it happens from that we have not experienced the things, or that we know not the reason thereof: So a Mathematical proposition how certain soever it be, may leave a doubt to him who never saw the demonstration; and he who hath not proved the effect of a remedy, may doubt whe∣ther what was said be true or false. But the most evident, and perhaps the most ordinary cause of this defect is, when the Mind is divided betwixt two reasons, or two contrary appearances, or be∣tween

two things altogether alike: for from thence come almost all the doubts of the Schools, and of the Politicks, and the irresolution wherein we are at every moment in our common and private acti∣ons. In effect, the way presently to determine to know whether a business be good or ill, when one findes Reasons equally strong on both sides, and when two things appear equally good, how can a man so readily resolve to chuse the most profitable or the most agreeable!

But it is not necessary to produce all the causes which cause our doubts and irresolutions; its in question here to know whether there be any of those which we have mentioned, which produceth in Animals the same effect it works in us, which restrains their Imagination, when it should either unite or separate images. In a word, which makes them doubt the things proposed unto them.

Readily to decide this Question, those who hold the negative part, must go and be instructed by that Ass so famous in the Schools, finding him∣self betwixt two measures of Oats, without be∣ing able to resolve to which of them to go, both appearing unto him equally good. For they should learn from him that in that condition he could not determine, that his Judgment was then in suspence, and consequently that he was in doubt what to do. But if they will not beleeve him, let them have re∣course to M.C. who in his considerations on Char∣ron in many places hath shewed, That the Ima∣gination of Beasts is often restrained in these actions, and that the combate which hunger and fear of be∣ing

beaten makes in their mind, is the cause that she remains unable of performance. For this restraint cannot be understood but of the impotency where∣in she is to resolve and form the practical judgment, which is the principle of operation: Now this is nothing but a suspention of judgment, its nothing but doubt, as we have before shewed.

But perhaps they require other Masters besides these, and that there is not authority enough to perswade them to this truth, should we even use that of Aristotle, who assures us that Goats are astonished when they see any of them taken by the beard. And certainly, could this be beleeved in this particular, they would be constrained to con∣fess that upon this occasion Goats must doubt, for astonishment is ever accompanied with doubt, and with suspence, as in another place we shall make it appear.

Since we must therefore treat with them by the onely strength of Reason, I would have them pre∣suppose what I have demonstrated in the second part of this Work; to wit, That Beasts judge of things; that is to say, That their imagination u∣nites and separates the images she hath formed of them. They must further agree with me, that she unites not all kind of Images, but these only which agree together; for she unites not the Notion of good with bitter, nor that of ill with sweet; no more then the design of pursuing with what is ill, or that of flying with what is good: But it joyns Sweet with Good, and adds to this the design of the pursuit; as it unites the Bitter with Ill, joyning afterwards thereunto the design of flight. She

must therefore know sweet before she can judge whether it be good, and that its good before she forms the design of the pursuit. And if she be troubled to know them, she hath the same trouble to make these resolves or judgments; for if she can∣not unite the images which appear unto it to have an agreement together, how can she know the a∣greement betwixt good that which is sweet, if she assuredly know not the sweet? How can she re∣solve to pursue the good, unless she certainly know what is good? In these encounters therefore she must suspend her judgment; that is to say, she must stay to unite the images she hath formed un∣till she be assured in her knowledge; for when an object is very far off, the Animal draws nearer, the better to discern it; he smels and tastes the food be∣fore he eats it, and although it appear good to him, the fear of being beaten restrains him: He is not therefore assured in any of these knowledges; o∣therwise he would not draw nearer the better to see the object; he would content himself with the sight to judge of its goodness, without making use of the smel or of the taste; And fear would not hinder his design of taking it; so that if he is not assured of these things, his imagination cannot unite the Images of them, and therefore she contains herself self and suspends her judgment; in a word, she doubts.

Certainly there is no reasonable person who will not consent to all these truths, after having consi∣dered what Beasts do; when they see or when they hear any thing which they cannot well discern, they stay, they open their eyes and their ears, and are at∣tentive

to discover what in effect it is; for all these actions are assured marks that they doubt, and that they would assure themselves of what they do not clearly know. And of a truth, if they knew the thing to be good or ill, they would not at all stop at it, they would continue their way, did they think it good, and would flye from it if they thought it ill. But they retain themselves because their Imagi∣nation suspends its judgment and doubts whether the thing be good or ill, whether she ought to go forwards or backwards. Certainly when we see a Hare stop short at the least noise it hears, that it lifts up the head, pricks up the ears, and looks every way about it, we may assure our selves that its in trouble to know who made the noise, and that until it perceives the Huntsman, its still in doubt of what it was, and in an irresolution of what it ought to do. Whence is't fishes strike with their tailes the bait which hangs on the hook, or strike their chops against it without swallowing it? do they not doubt of the danger which is hid there∣under? For were they altogether certain that it were, they would not absolutely come near it; and if they did also beleeve that there were none, they would be taken by the bait without any precaution.

Perhaps our adversaries will say, That these ex∣amples and an infinite of the like which may be added to these, are effects of Instinct. But were it so, it must still follow, that Beasts at least doubt by Instinct. Now it imports not here after what manner they doubt, so as in effect they do but doubt. For as the fear which Instinct gives them is a true fear; the doubt also which happens to them from that must be a true doubt.

But take from them this poor pretext, I will con∣vince them by an experience, which can have no rela∣tion to the Instinct. When a Dog sees his Master come afar off, he knows well 'tis a man, although he cannot discern what man it is, and then he looks fixedly upon him without moving; and as he draws nearer, and begins to come to some knowledge of him, he begins to wag his Tail and move his Ears, without as yet quitting his place, but as soon as he quite knows him, he suddenly gets up and runs away to caress him. For my part, I beleeve were all these circumstances rightly con∣sidered, they ought to perswade the most opini∣on after That the Dog suspends his judgment, be∣fore he hath a certain knowledge of his Master; and that he hath no way to have recourse to his In∣stinct, since Instinct is common to all the Species, and that none of the other Dogs will use those caresses which this accosts his Master withal.

It follows not that Beasts Deliberate because they Doubt.

Its then resolved that Beasts doubt. But says M.C. if it be so, it follows that they deliberate. Not at all, there is no consequence from the one to the other: He should have remembred that Delibera∣tion is onely for practical things, and not for specu∣lative, and that Doubt may meet in either of them. On the other side we never deliberate of the end, but only of the means we are to use to attain it; yet a man may doubt of the end as well as of the means. There is no necessity for Beasts to deliberate because

they doubt, since those things may be doubted in which there is no deliberation to be made.

I know that doubt often causeth men to deliberate, but had they not the liberty to chuse, what doubts soever they had, they could deliberate no more then Beasts, because Deliberation is imployed onely to chuse those means for it which seem best. Now in those things wherein the Soul is necessitated, and that it cannot do otherwise, there is no choice nor liberty, nor consequently no place for Delibe••ation.

I would willingly ask M.C. when he was in doubt of some proposition, and that after he came to grant those principles, whence its necessarily drawn, whether he deliberates to know whether he ought to approve it or no, whether he have the liberty to chuse the affirmative or the negative? Certainly should he have abused himself so highly, all the Schools would side against him and tell him, That the Understanding is necessitated to approve a de∣monstrated conclusion, that it cannot do otherwise. And that should the Will it self with all the Empire it hath over it endeavour to hinder it, it would make as vain an effort, as if it would constrain the eyes not to see those objects which were before it; how ever it is, Beasts do doubt, being uncertain of the things proposed unto them, but the certainty and resolution which they afterwards take; comes from no choice, nor from any deliberation which they make, but from a more clear knowledge which the objects afford them, which necessitates and for∣ceth them to unite or to separate the images con∣formably to their nature, to determine themselves on those points they were unresolved in: In a word,

to assure themselves of the things which they were before in doubt of.

But its to stay too long on a difficulty, which at bottom is indifferent for the matter in question; for if Beasts were not capable of doubting, the Reason which M. C. examines here, would still remain in full force, and it would still be true that Dogs and Hawks do not pursue their Game, how good soever it appear unto them, if they judge it to be out of reach. It remains now for us to observe whether he hath weakened it by any other Objection more considerable then that.

He for a second Reason adds, That Dogs often cease to pursue the Game, although it be not out of reach, their Imagination being diverted: That on the contrary they do not forbear to pursue what is too far off to be taken; and if they do stop, its either out of weariness or out of distraction, but also most commonly because that an object a far off draws not at all. I shall grant him all what he here says, excepting that adamantine vertue wherewith he beleeves objects draw the powers of the Mind; for 'tis an extravagant opinion which cannot be maintained by any reason, and which destroys the nature of Knowledg, and the principles of Philosophy.

Without lying, I wonder that so clear a spirit as is M. C's should not have perceived that all what he hath said makes nothing against what I have pro∣posed. When I said that Dogs often do not pursue their prey because they judge it too far off; and that for his part he also assures, That often they do not pursue it because their Imagination is diverted. We are nothing contrary the one to the other, and

both may have been in the right. Had I said that they never pursued their prey when it was too far off, and that the distance was the onely cause they ceased to pursue it, he would have reason to object against me, That distraction often is the cause that they do not pursue it, and even that they sometimes pursue it when its out of reach. For all this may be true, although I do not beleeve they judge it to be out of reach when they pursue it; for an Animal cannot undertake a thing without judging it pos∣sible; yet this hinders not that often also the onely knowledge of the distance is cause of their forbear∣ance. And M.C. having produced no proofs to the contrary, I see nothing that diminisheth the strength of mine, nor which obligeth me to change my opi∣nion; in effect, why should not the distance hinder a Dog from pursuing his prey, since he well knows the height of a precipice, and that that onely know∣ledge is able to retain and hinder him from throw∣ing himself down it▪ I see no difference betwixt the one and the other. And if M. C. will grant the latter, I must also yeeld to the former, and at last confess, That my Reason is good, and that he hath produced nothing to destroy it.

The End of the Third Part.

Answers to those Objections made against the Reason of Beasts.

THE FOURTH PART.

CHAP. I. The First OBIECTION. Of the difference there is betwixt the Un∣derstanding and the Imagination.

HAving shewed you in my first Work, That the Imagination reasons, I would readily have taken away the suspition which might have been bred in the Readers mind, least I had rendred the Imagination equal with the Ʋnderstanding; for I have made it appear, that there was a great difference between them two.

First, for as much as the knowledge of the Imagina∣tion is bounded to corporal things, necessary unto life, and commonly restrained to those which are proper to the nature of every Species, and that that of the Ʋnderstanding extends it self to all things whatso∣ever. Secondly, In that the Imagination forms no universal Notion, and consequently can make no Ratiocinations but particular ones. Instead that the Ʋnderstanding hath the liberty to form general Notions of all things, and to draw from thence universal or particular consequences at its plea∣sure.

Whence we concluded, That the Imagination is not onely inferior to the Ʋnderstanding in the manner of operating, but also in the order of Nature and Es∣sence. For the power which judgeth of all things, and which maketh vniversal Notions cannot be tyed to the matter, and ought to be spiritual, forasmuch as the matter determines and cannot admit of univer∣sality That so the Ʋnderstanding, reasoning univer∣sally, ought to be in the order of spiritual things, whereto the Imagination cannot pretend being reduced to particular discourses.

Whence it follows, that speaking generally, Rea∣son is not the specifick difference of Man, but such a species of Reason, to wit universal Reason; and be∣cause its the most noble and the most perfect of all, it retains the name of the whole gender, according to the example of several other Species, and hath part with this priviledge in the definition of Man; yet it is not therefore that this word Reason, although it should signifie the faculty or action of reasoning pre∣cisely makes the essential difference of Man, because,

both the one and the other are pure Accidents, and that the difference of Man ought to be a substance. But as in the ignorance wherein we are of the last differences of things, we make use of proprieties and powers, which are nearest their essence to design their Nature; Philosophy which herein is no less enlightned then elsewhere, hath imployed the faculty of reasoning to mark the essential difference of Man. But to fol∣low his design, and to draw the nearer to the truth; we must conceive this universal faculty that it may mark the order of Nature, which distinguisheth him from all other creatures, to wit, Spirituality. And therefore when we define a Man by Reason, it ought to be understood of the Faculty of Reasoning univer∣sally, and not of the Faculty of Reasoning simply, which is common to him with Beasts.

The first difference which there is betwixt the Ʋn∣derstanding and the Imagination.

I imagined in my self, That there was no rea∣sonable man, who ought not to content himself with the share I had allotted him in the distribution of Knowledge and Reason Yet it seems M C. is not satisfied therewith, and that he will also have that which I have allowed Beasts, and would take from them that small portion of Ratiocination which God and Nature hath given them.

First, He approves not that the Imagination is different from the Understanding, in that its know∣ledge is restrained to corporal things which are ne∣cessary to life, and proper to the Nature of every species, instead that that of the Understanding ex∣tends

to all things whatsoever. For although at first he says, That he would not contest thereupon, if I would not make these knowledges pass by Ratio∣cinations. Yet without remembring this protesta∣tion, he presently after says, p. 129. That it is not true that the knowledges of the Imagination are re∣strained to things necessary for life, and proper to the nature of every species. If this is not true, why would he not contest it? Is it that he will contest onely things which are true? Is it that he hath a right to maintain right and wrong, and to change his opinion from one line to another?

But he says, pag. 128. I would make these knowledges pass for Ratiocinations; every shadow frights a man afraid, and to shun one danger he of∣ten falls into another; I speak not there of Ratio∣cination, I speak of Knowledge in general, and he to prevent my thought makes it appear that he knows not how to discern the things he is to re∣move; and he easily commits a sophism, who reprehends what ought not to be reprehended.

He should have considered, that having propo∣posed an action which marked the essential differ∣ence betwixt the Unde••standing and the Imagina∣tion, it was sufficient for me to shew, that this knows onely corporal things, and that the Under∣standing knows generally all things, it being need∣less to say, whether this knowledge were made with Ratiocination or no. For Aristotle w••o would prove, that the Understanding was not tied to the matter, used the same reason, and con∣tented himself to shew that a power which knows and judgeth of all things, cannot be material with∣out

saying, whether knowledge was performed by simple or composed Notions, for that it was un∣necessary to his proof, which were as strong, should the Understanding know things onely by simple notions, as if it knew them by Ratiocinations. M. C. did therefore deceive himself when he thought I took here The Knowledges of the Ima∣gination for Ratiocinations. And much more when he thinks to have overthrown my distinction, and all those which may be produced, in saying that the Imagination reasons not at all: For whether it rea∣son or whether it do not reason, it still remains con∣cluded, that since it judgeth but of corporal things, and that the Understanding judgeth of all things, there must needs be an essential difference betwixt the two; and consequently it can never be equal unto it, although she should have the faculty of reasoning; which is what I had to shew.

M. C. adds, page 128. That this difference is not essential, since its grounded on more and on less.

He here confounds the means whereby we know this difference: Its true, that more or less make us know it, but it follows not from thence that it con∣sists in more or less; we judge of health and sick∣ness by more or less heat, but that speaks not the essential difference which is found betwixt these two contrary qualities, to consist in more or less heat. In the same manner we know by the divers extent which the objects of those two faculties have, that they are essentially different, and yet we can∣not thence infer, that the difference found betwixt them consists in the diversity of extent. For 'tis but

en exterior mark whereby we discover that the Un∣derstanding is a power loosened from the matter, and which consequently is different from the Ima∣gination not onely in the species but in the gender. Now if they are different after this manner, it ne∣cessarily follows that there is an essential difference betwixt the one and the other, although we do not thereby precisely know wherein this difference consists; And in all what we can do in this re∣doubt of the last differences of things, Our mind being not capable to penetrate so far not exactly to see all the parts of which their Nature is com∣posed.

The third Reason which M. C. produceth, is, That the distinction of a faculty being rather to be drawn from the different manner of operating, then from the difference of objects; If the Imagination reasons on corporal things, the Ʋnderstanding will have no way operating proper to it self, and conse∣quently, there will be nothing to distinguish them the one from the other.

If M. C. will take heed to what we have said, he will finde the Answer which is to be made to this Objection. For we did not pretend to shew that the essential difference which is be∣twixt the Understanding and the Imagination con∣sists in the diversity of their objects, but only that by that diversity we might infer, that there was an essen∣tial difference betwixt these two powers. So that without engaging my self in those contests which are in the Schools on the distinction of powers; its sufficient for me that its a demonstrated truth, That the Understanding is a power separate from

the matter, since it judgeth of all things. For it follows from thence, that its object makes us know its nature is spiritual, and therefore that its essenti∣ally different from that of the Imagination, which is in the order of material things.

After this we shall see that all what he says in pursuit is vain, or out of purpose, and he might pass without a reply, or without any prejudice to my cause. But to satisfie him on all what he pro∣poseth, I shall first tell him that although the Ima∣gination reasons on corporal things, the Under∣standing forbears not to have an action proper to it self, and which distinguisheth it from the Imagi∣nation; for it reasons universally, which is not in the power of the Imagination, as she shall hereaf∣ter shew.

2 When he saith, That the reasonings of children have no other objects but corporal things, and yet their reason is not of a different nature from that of the most speculative Philosophers.

I fear some body will reproach him, that this in∣deed is the reasoning of a Child that knows not how to distinguish the act from the power, and s••es not that the consequences drawn from the one and the other are commonly captious. We confess that the reasonings of children have onely corporal things for their object; but we also hold that the object of their reason, that is to say, of the Faculty which they have of reasoning extends to all things, as well as the object of the Reason of the most spe∣culative Philosophers. And although in the age they are, the•• cannot judge but of sensible things; yet it hinders not but they may have in themselves

the Faculty to judge of all things which they may put in practice, when by their years the obstacles of their childhood shall be removed. But it is not so with the Imagination, which can never raise it self above corporal things, what help, or what perfecti∣on soever it may attain. For which cause we have had reason to say, that its object was different from that of the Understanding, and that that marked an essential difference betwixt the two Faculties, as we have already shewn.

In fine, he will prove, That the knowledges of the Imagination are not restrained to things necessary for life, and proper to the nature of every species; be∣cause that besides that the objects of ours are not easi∣ly to be limited; I have assured that Beasts reason on all what presents it self to their senses. That they reason on the things which they are taught, That they assemble all the images of the Memory, and from thence form consequences; That they know even the time to come, which is a very spiritual knowledge, and one of the most delicate which our Ʋnderstanding can form.

Had M.C. been faithful in repeating my sence, I should not have here one word to say; Besides that, he confounds Propositions which are distinct, and separate; those which are onely particular, he renders universal, and thus imposeth things on me which I never thought of. The Reader may there∣fore observe, that when I say that the knowledge of the Imagination is bounded to corporal things, which are necessary to life, and that commonly she

is restrained to those things which are proper to every Species. He suppresseth the word commonly which renders my Proposition particular, and makes me speak universally, as if I had said, that its equally restrained to those which are proper to the nature of every species, and to those which are necessary to life, which nevertheless is not true.

2. He will have it that I make Beasts reason on all what presents it self to their sences, and that I make them assemble all the images which they have in the Memory to draw from thence consequences. But there is a great deal of difference to say what I have said, That when Beasts reason, they reason on what presen••s its self to their Senses; or that they reason of sensible things which are necessary to life, and to speak as M C. doth, That they reason on all what presents it self to their senses. For I confess that there are some which present themselves to their senses, which are not necessary to life; whereon they do not reason, and even on those which are necessary to life, they do not al∣ways reason, being elsewhere diverted. To con∣clude, they assemble the Images of the Memory not all, as M.C. makes me speak, but onely those which agree together, and on which they ought to reason.

After this its easie to make it appear, That what he brings to shew that the Knowledge of the Ima∣gination is not bounded to things necessary to life, proveth quite the contrary. For when Beasts reason on what presents it self to their senses, and on the things they are taught; when they assemble the

images of the Memory and thence draw conse∣quences; In fine, when they know the time to come, all these knowledges are followed with plea∣sure or grief, with hope or fear, and they must therefore be necessary to life, since these passions respect their preservation, and are never raised in the mind unless to possess good or she from ill. For the rest, I stop not at the induction which he would draw from the knowledge of the time to come, which in his opinion is altogether spiritual. For I have made it fully appear before that it is sensi∣ble, and that therefore is within the extent of the object, which I have assigned to the Imagina∣tion.

The second Difference which is betwixt the Ʋn∣derstanding and the Imagination.

The second difference which we have found be∣twixt the Understanding and the Imagination, is, That this forms no universal Notion, so that con∣sequently I can none but particular Ratiocinations: Instead that the Understanding hath the liberty to form general notions of all things, and when it pleaseth to draw from thence universal or particular consequences.

I had here given a fair field to M.C. td have ex∣ercised his spirit, and I did beleeve in the humour he was in to contradict whatever he incountred, he would not have let pass so important a Proposi∣tion without disputing it.

Yet I perceive that notwithstanding it hath great Philosophers for its enemies, and several

presumptions repugnant unto it, yet it hath esca∣ped his hands and hath received no touch of his Criticks. Certainly instead of amusing himself to mince upon words as he doth in this Chapter, and to puzzle the truth by petty School tricks, as he hath done every where else, he should have ex∣amined whether it is a necessity, That because a power is material, it cannot make universal notions, principally not going out of the resort or precinct of material things. In effect, when the sense hath known an obj••ct, doth there not remain in the soul a general notion, which makes it know all the rest which are of the same nature? And ••s the great Scaliger saith, The Chick, hath it not a universal image of the Kite, whereby it knows every Kite which comes to sight? And what? If the Imagination hath the faculty to judge, as we beleeve, can it not judge through all the extent of its object? and since it can know all the parts of the whole, may it not form a proposition which may comprehend all the objects it hath the knowledge of? For example, can it not judge that all what is sweet is good, or at least, That all the sweet things it knows are good? And when a Sheep shall see divers Wolves together, will it not judge that all the Beasts it sees are Wolves and enemies to attempt its life? Now these are universal propositions, and yet the Imagination how material soever she be, is capable to form general Notions.

But all these Reasons are weak in comparison of those which establish the contrary opinion, and which shew that a material Faculty can never form any universal Notion; for its certain, That we can∣not

conceive an universal thing, but by taking from it the singularity it hath; otherwise it would not be universal; now its singularity cannot be taken away but by separating it from those things which render it singular, as from the particular subject its in, and from the other conditions which deter∣mine it. Now there is no material faculty which can separate the forms from the matter, nor from their subject, because the Act and the Power must be of the same gender, and that the Power which is material and composed, must have an Action which terminates in somewhat which is material and composed, as we have shewed in the first Part; And consequently the Imagination which is of that order, can form no universal Notion, since it cannot separate the forms from their subjects. Be∣sides, an universal notion supposeth an universal power, and an universal power is nor determined, at least in respect of particular things over which its universality extends. Now so it is, that all what is material, is absolutely determined, because its of the Maliciousness of the matter, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, as Aristotle says, to restrain all things which partici∣pate of it to its nature. And therefore the matter being absolutely singular and determined, there is no material power which can raise it self above sin∣gularity, or produce any notions which are not absolutely singular and determined

What shall we then say of those Images which represent so many several objects? Certainly they are not properly universal; for of three kind of things which are called so, to wit the causes which produce several effects, the signs which represent

divers things, and the Natures which are in several particulars, there are onely these latter which are essentially universal, because they are in no way singular, and that the unity which they have, hin∣ders them not from being in effect in many parti∣culars. Instead that the others are effectually sin∣gular, and altogether exterior to the things in re∣spect of which they are called universal; So that the image of the Kite which is in the Imagination of the Chick, and all the rest of that gender are one∣ly universal, as signs, or as examples, which may re∣present several objects, but not as Idea's of a com∣mon nature, which the Imagination conceives to be in divers particulars. Because there is but one universal faculty such as the Understanding is which can tan take away the singularity of things, and conceive in them at once both unity and plurality. And to speak to the truth, the images which are in the imagination are no more universal then a name would be which were given to several persons, or then a character in cypher which may serve to mark several numbers of the same species.

As for the Propositions she makes, neither are they properly universal; for to make them such, they must contain some notion which must be uni∣versal; now as this surpasseth the strength of the Imagination for the reasons before said, it follows, that it cannot also form any of these Propositions. And if it form any which seem to be of this na∣ture, we may say according to the language of the Schools, that they are universal onely materially and not formally. For its true, she may judge that all the objects she knows are good or ill, and

this judgment contains the matter of an universal proposition, but the form is wanting thereto, to wit, the totality and the union of all these objects: For the Imagination must know a whole difference from all it parts, and consequently must make an abstract thereof, which is beyond its power. These kind of Propositions are nothing but a mass of as many different judgments as there are objects. And when we assure that the Imagination makes them, its as much as to say, that she judgeth this ob∣ject to be good, that this also is so, and the other it is also &c. Yet without forming any general notion of all these objects, nor of the goodness she knows in them. And without doubt in these encounters she doth as when she knows a multitude, for she very well sees the first, the second, the third; in a word, all the parts which compose it, are by the senses known unto it. But she cannot form the no∣tion of a number which contains them all. Not that she knows not the number all entire, but it is but as we have said materially.

These are the illustrations which it was obliged to give, a Truth which I had so often presupposed, and which served as a Basis to the most important conclusions of my Discourse, I doubt not but it hath tired M. C. But he must think that I do not write this for his satisfaction, and that he is like to find far less in those things in which I shall not be of his opinion, then in these wherein we agree.

That Reason in general is not the specifick differ∣ence of Man.

From these two differences which we have dis∣covered betwixt the Understanding and the Imagi∣nation, we have concluded, that speaking generally, Reason is not the specifick difference of Man, but such a species of Reason, to wit universal Reason, which is the most perfect, and which for its excel∣lency is called simply Reason.

M. C. produceth many Reasons to destroy this consequence.

The first is, That were there to be found a greater perfection in human Ratiocination, it would not mark an essential difference in the faculty, because more or less changes not the species, and that the faculties change not their nature, and do not become specifick in a subject, to perform in it more perfect actions then in another.

One word will answer all this. There are two kinds of perfection, the one is essential, the other is ac∣cidental; this makes not really an essential differ∣ence, but the other makes, or at least supposeth it. When we say that the Angels are more noble and perfect then Man, or that Man is more perfect then Beasts, this perfection doth it not mark an essenti∣al difference betwixt them? M. C. who grounds himself on the maxim of the Schools, that more and less causeth no change in the species of things, should have taken heed to the restrictions given him; for its certain there are encounters in which this proposion is false. When Aristotle says that

the first substances are more substances then the second, and that Form is more so then the Matter; when the Platonick Philosophy teacheth us that there is more or less of essence in things, and that the abundance of being is a cause why some are more perfect then others; M C beleeves not that this more and this less makes an essen••ial differ∣ence: And if he doth beleeve it, as he is obliged to do, the more or less perfection which there is to be found in the reasonings of Men and of Beasts, may it not make the same difference? After all let him remember himself of what we have said before, that the essential difference which distinguisheth the faculty of the Understandings reasoning with that of the Imagination, consists not in more or less, but that its thereby made known; and its the reason for which we said, That if more or less do not make this difference, yet at least they sup∣pose it.

The second is, That were there a greater per∣fection then Ratiocination which were capable to esta∣blish a specifick difference, it would not be the know∣ledge of universal things, because general notions are the most confused and most imperfect of our concepti∣ons.

I send back M.C. with this Article to our Logi∣citians, who will teach him that universals are to be considered two ways. First, as simple Natures separate from all particulars. Secondly, As Na∣tures which comprehend all particulars. This im∣ports confusion, because it distinguisheth nothing, and represents the universal as a whole which con∣tains severall parts; But the other is clear and di∣stinct,

and makes things known more clearly, and more perfectly, because it proposeth universal Na∣tures, as degrees and parts whereof the essence of things is composed. So when we conceive the A∣nimal as a gender, which embraceth all the species of Animals, this knowledge is in some manner confused, and like that which we have of the whole, without distinguishing the parts; But when we consider the Animal in Man, or in some other species, we conceive it as a degree and a part of his essence, and consequently the knowledge is more clear and exact then if we considered the species in gross. Certainly I cannot beleeve that M C. could be ignorant of a distinction so common in the Schools; But I wonder also that he did not foresee that I made use of it to destroy the reason which he produced; and if he did foresee it, its yet a greater cause of astonishment that he should make use of things he knew were useless for his de∣sign.

But, says he, those Men which reason best, and know things most perfectly, make fewer universal Notions, then grosser spirits which confusedly judge of all things.

He deceives himself; he would without doubt say that they stay less on universal notions because they go to the particular difference of things, so that grosser spirits which cannot penetrate so far are forced to stop at universal Notions. But in∣deed a Man had need of less spirit to know commu∣nalties and resemblances, then to discern differences. I confess it, if a man know not the differences, but he must also confess that he had need of more spirit

to know communities with the differences, then if the communities were unknown. Now the differ∣ences cannot be known unless we know the com∣munities.

He adds besides, That every time that our rea∣son makes a progress from a particular knowledge to an universal conclusion: The conclusion is more con∣fused and more imperfect then the knowledge whence its drawn:

Here is a new rule of Logick which M. C. will introduce, which never any thought before; for 'tis an unknown thing in a Syllogism to draw an u∣niversal conclusion from a particular knowledge; and without doubt before he establish this Maxim, he must ruin that which teacheth that the conclu∣sion ever follows the nature of the most imperfect of the antecedent propositions; and if there be any of these particular or negative, the conclusion ought to be so too. I know a Man may make En∣thymema's where the antecedent shall be particu∣lar, and the conclusion universal. But besides that, this form is condemned as vitious; there is ever an universal proposition or an induction, which main∣tains the universality of the conclusion. Thus to say Peter is reasonable, Then every man is reason∣able, this consequence must be grounded on the Induction which was made. That Peter, John, James, &c. are reasonable. Now this induction hath the force of an universal proposition, and there∣fore we need not wonder if the consequence is uni∣versal.

Whether general Knowledges are more confused then the particular?

But put the case that we may draw these kind of consequences, is it true that they are more confu∣sed and more imperfect then the particular Know∣ledges whence they are drawn? First, as for con∣fusion, the distinction is here to be used, which we at first proposed, and we must say, That if we con∣ceive in an universal conclusion the universality as a Degree of essence, which makes part of the Na∣ture of particular things, it's so far from rendring the knowledge more confused, it renders it more precise and distinct. That if we conceive it as a whole, I confess that in respect of the parts it com∣prehends, its more confused, but in respect of the particular thing whence it was drawn, I deny it to be confused, since it contains all the distinction and evidence which this can have. As for imper∣fection, I never heard say that a demonstration whose conclusion is ever universal, should be less perfect then a Topick Syllogism, whose conclusion is particular. Yes, but its more confused. Were it true, the confusion that accompanies the extent of the knowledge, imports more perfection then the distinction which is restrained to a particular knowledge. Yes, but the conclusion is but the effect of precedent knowledges. What matters it? There are effects whose nature is as imperfect as that of their cause, and the evidence of a conclusion ought to be as perfect as that of its antecedents; other∣wise Science would not be placed in the conclusion

where its commonly placed. After all, I will have this conclusion less perfect, the particular conclu∣sion which is drawn from general propositions must be less perfect then they are. In this case M C. would be deficient, and I should even have an ad∣vantage over him for the particular conclusions which he makes upon me on universal ones. How∣ever it be, I leave the rest of this dispute to be de∣cided betwixt our Divines and M.C. and would ad∣vise him to think seriously what he will answer them on the propositions they make, That Angels have Ideas and species more universal, according as their nature is more perfect, and that they are of a more elevated order. For as for what concerns Philoso∣phers, which hold that universal knowledges are more excellent, more evident in themselves, and more conformable to the Understanding, and it is to prophane them as Plato saith, to bring them down to particular things; I know that M. C. will not beleeve in them.

The third Reason imports, That its impossible to reason without making use of general terms, and without forming universal Notions; and that there∣fore our reason hath no advantage over that of Beasts, and that in that point there could not be ob∣served any essential difference.

There is no proposition in all this Discourse but is false, as I have made it appear in the 99, 123, &c. pages, where I have shewed that general terms lose their generality when they are accompanied with a Pronoun demonstrative, or with some such like restriction; and that when Logick requires u∣niversal notions or propositions to discours••, its

intellectual Logick, and not that which is proper to the Imagination which hath its rules apart, which can form Syllogisms without imploying any uni∣versal Notions, and which consequently may draw assured Knowledges from particular Proposi∣tions.

And without doubt, had M. C. foreseen the truths which I demonstrated in these places, he would not have so lightly hazarded to have said here That my Mind was diverted when I wrote that a man might draw an assured knowledge of proposi∣tions which are not particular; That the maxims of Logick teach the nullity of these consequences, and that I would have said singulars, by reason of cer∣tain Syllogisms, which the Schools calls Expositories which from singular propositions infer a singular con∣clusion. Let him therefore know that I have most se∣riously thought on what I said of these propositions, and that I called them particulars in the sense they ought, and as they are commonly taken in the Schools; for when we oppose these propositions to those which are universal, we under that word comprehend all propositions which are not uni∣versal, whether particular or singular.

In effect, Were this Syllogism proposed to M.C.

Some Man is just. Peter is a Man. Then Peter is just.

With reason a man might say, it were to blame, because its all composed of particular propositions, whence legitimately nothing can be concluded; yet at his reckoning it would be found, the first is only

particular; the second being singular, it must also be that when we say, That to form an Argument in such a manner, such a proposition must be parti∣cular, it were not such as it ought to be, were sin∣gular, terms used, and that so this Syllogism would not be regular.

Every Man is reasonable. Peter is a Man. Then Peter is reasonable.

Because therein are no particular propositions as M.C. says; I shall therefore advise him to take a review of his Logick, to learn not onely that this word of particular ought often to be taken for sin∣gular, but a so that the expositive Syllogism is more useful, and more easie to make then he ima∣gines; for its so necessary that it hath served for a model to Aristotle to form his third figure, That it's the first of all the reasonings which Nature teacheth us, and the onely one which the Imagina∣tion useth. And thence it's easie to judge, that it is not so difficult to perform, as M. C imagineth; and that the Logicians are not so troubled, as he says, when they are questioned to produce examples the••eof, since of themselves they have reckoned to the number of 1200 ways to make this kind of Syllo∣gism.

Yet I well perceive what made him fall into this error, is that he beleeved that the medium of this Syllogism which ought to be singular, could be so but after one manner, although it may be so di∣vers ways; for it is not only so by the names which are proper to the things, but by those also which are

common, so as they be restrained by the demon∣strative pronouns, or other the like particles. So when we say this Man, this Thing, &c. they are terms which are as much singular as if they called them by their proper names. And some beleeve that the propositions which are composed of these terms are more exactly called singulars then the rest, because they carry with them a manifest sign of their sigularity, and that the proper name is used but for the deficiency of that mark, in the same manner as propositions which have the signs of uni∣versality are more properly called universals then the rest which want it, although in effect they e∣qually are so to the sense; for when we say Man is reasonable, its an universal proposition, and yet in the rigor of the Laws of Logick it's not so regular as if we should say, Every Man is reasonable, be∣cause the word all which is the mark of the univer∣sality is not expressed. We cannot say so much of singular propositions. But I leave this to the de∣cision of Masters of Arts. I would onely by the way advise M.C. That the Syllogisms in question are not called Expository, because they onely ex∣plicate a thing in other terms, but rather because they expose to our eyes the naked truth, and leave no doubt, designing and pointing out the things which might be contested, and in this case they ought to be more useful then M. C. sup∣posed.

But he says, To speak properly, they are not Ra∣tiocinations, since there is wanting to them what is essential. Because the foundation of all true Ratioci∣nation is that two things which agree amongst them∣selves

ought to agree in a third; and that those which have nothing common amongst them cannot a∣gree.

I have made him to see pag. 99. that this prin∣ciple takes place in particular Ratiocinations as well as in universals, and that particular propositions hinder not this agreement, as may be judged by the expositive Syllogism: But from thence to infer, as he doth, That in every Syllogism there must be an universal thing which must be drawn from all what is contained in it: I am not of his opinion, and I hold that this illation cannot be maintained but in intellectual Ratiocinations, as I have shewed in the third part, where he may again see page 123. after what manner those terms which enter into particu∣lar Syllogisms may be common.

His Fourth Reason is, That since we have no o∣ther faculty to know universalities but the same by which we reason, it must needs be that this faculty to know universalities is proper to Man, that of rea∣soning must be so also, since it's the same thing.

So as M. C. would add to the word Reason∣ing that of Universality, I shall grant all what he says; for the faculty of reasoning universally is the same by which we know universalities, That it's proper and particular to Man, and that it's in∣communicable to Beasts; but without that one word all his Ratiocination is false; and speaking absolutely of the faculty of reasoning, is not the same by which we know Universalities, since Ima∣gination reasons which cannot know them.

He adds, That the Ʋnderstanding ought to have some action proper unto it; it must therefore needs be that of the three operations it hath the third at least, which is most excellent, must be particular unto it, and that it cannot communicate it self to the Imagina∣tion.

I should here have made the same Answer which I have so often made, to wit, that universal Rati∣ocination is the proper action of the Understand∣ing; but he prevented me in saying, That this can∣not be, because he hath shewen that the conception of universality is the most imperfect of all the actions of the Ʋnderstanding, and that all Ratiocination sup∣poseth an universal knowledge. I know very well he hath labored to shew it; but his success hath very ill answered it, as himself may judge, by what we have said here before; So that I have nothing to add to this point, but that he deceives himself when he thinks, That Ʋniversalities form them∣selves by simple conceptions, and by the first ope∣ration of the Ʋnderstanding. For it's impossible to form an universal Notion without considering the communities, without separating from them singular conditions, without conceiving unity and plurality in the same nature; finally without comparing one thing with another, and consequently with∣out reasoning. I know very well that all this progress terminates at a simple notion of univer∣sal nature; but it's the effect of discourse, after the same manner as Science is the effect of demonstra∣tion; for as we cannot say that Science is acquired by the second operation onely of the Understand∣ing, although it consist in a simple notion, I durst

even say, and that the proposition wherein Sci∣ence consists, and that the universal notion shut up in them the Ratiocination by which they were formed. For the Understanding is so prompt, it sees and doth so many things at once, that its Ideas which appear to us simple are commonly com∣posed. But this is no place to fathom this matter; we must expect till M. C. hath explained himself thereupon, as he hath promised. It's enough for him now to know, that the Universal forms not it self by the first operation of the Understanding.

The Fifth and last Reason he brings against the difference proposed p. 127. is, That the Imagination can no ways form discourse because it's a corporal faculty which depends absolutely on its organ, and that all Reasoning whatever it be requires a free and independent faculty, forasmuch as there is no Rati∣ocination without Deliberation, nor Deliberation without Liberty: 2. Because there is no Reasoning without some universal Notion, which supposeth an universal Power. 3. Because that in all Reasoning there is always something new done which is different from what is represented by the Fantasms. And that therefore that Faculty which reasons, must be independent of its organ; otherwise it can onely know what is represented to it.

We need not use many words to answer this long Reason, forasmuch as the principal proof it contains shall be fully confuted by the following Article, where we shall make it appear that there are many Ratiocinations which are made without

deliberation, and that the other two have been examined here before, we having shewed that we may Reason without making use of any uni∣versal Notion; and that the Imagination although it knows nothing without Phantasms, yet it forms Phantasms which are not expressed in those Images which the exterior Senses furnish it with∣al, such as is the Union or the Division, and those species which the Schools call non sensatas, as to be good or ill, friend or enemy, and other such like. For from thence it follows, That that fa∣culty which reasons, doth always something anew by uniting or separating terms and things which she knew not before in that condition. Neither for all this can any infer, that the Imagination which doth all those things, is independent from it's or∣gan. Otherwise we must say that she knows neither what is good or ill, friend or foe; And that she judgeth not of things, if it be true that those actions are marked with independency.

CHAP. II. The Second OBIECTION. Of the Deliberation which accompanies Ra∣tiocination.

HAving satisfied the precedent Objection, we have proposed what our adversaries say, That all the actions of Animals, which seem to be most reasonable, may proceed from somewhat else then Reason, and that Nature which doth not multiply causes without necessity, should not have made use of so noble a Faculty for the conduct of Beasts; since those which are more proper, and as it were domestick, may alone have satisfied thereunto. For all what appears most wonderful in their actions, may and ought to have reference either to Instinct, Memory, or Custom; whereunto we have answered, That with them we acknowledge all these causes, but that we beleeve that they do not exclude Reason, and that all actions which Beasts perform out of Custom, Instruction, or Instinct, are done with Ratiocination; Which we have demonstrated in pursuit of our first Book.

But because M C. hath forced us to change this order, we have imployed in the Third Part all what concernes Instruction and custom, and we reserve for the Second Book what belongs to Instinct: So that we have here no more considerable Objections to examine but onely those which respect, the De∣liberation and the language of Beasts.

They say then that if Beasts were capable of Rea∣son, they would also have power to deliberate, and con∣sequently they must needs be free, indetermined, and therefore indued with an universal faculty, which always presupposeth a nature independent from the matter. To which we have answered, That it is not necessary, That to Reason one must Deliberate; since we often imploy Reason where there is no place for De∣liberation; forasmuch as we cannot deliberate but when there are several means found to attain some end, and that we have the liberty to chuse which we please; that therefore there is no necessity that Beasts should deliberate, because that besides that most com∣monly they have but one way to attain their end, as that which their Instinct teacheth them; It's cer∣tain that then when they encounter several means, they presently determine on that which first presents its self, or on the most efficacious, and that they have not the liberty of choice, having not an indifferent and universal Faculty, but altogether limited and determined, as we have so often repeated it.

Before M. C. began to Examine this Answer, he advertised the Reader, That in the design he had to speak of the nature of Ratiocination, none ought to apprehend that he went about to transcribe all what Logick teacheth concerning the three operati∣ons of the Ʋnderstanding. And of a truth this ad∣vice was both very judicious and very necessary. For after having seen the first propositions he brought forth, it was very much to have been apprehended had he said more, but that he would have spoiled all what Logick teacheth us thereupon.

In effect, all the divisions he here makes are

imperfect, and do not contain all the members which ought to be admitted. He brings onely for the cause of simple affirmations the agreement which appears evident, although there be another which produceth the same effect; for the agree∣ment may be certain without being evident, as it is in propositions of faith. In the second place he restrains Ratiocination to a use, which being more manifest is not the more noble; for although it serve to clear doubtful things, yet is not that the onely employment it hath, since it forms the In∣telligence of Men and Angels where there is no place for doubt or suspension of judgment, this action being performed in an instant, as we have de∣monstrated in the third Part.

To conclude, he shuts up all Ratiocination in two species; the one which serves to acquire the Science, whose object is alone Knowledge, and grounds it self only on unchangeable principles, and is called contemplation; the others principle is a practical end, and is called Deliberation. But this division is not exact, and leaves divers Ratio∣cinations which can neither be related to Contem∣plation nor to Deliberation. For if this be onely to be found in morality, as Aristotle teacheth, what would become of all Topick and probable Syllogisms? What would become of the Councels of War, Consultations in Physick, in a word, of of all Ratiocinations which are made in the Arts? For it would not belong to contemplation, since it's principles are neither necessary nor unchangeable; nor to deliberation, since they have no practical end, as Aristotle understands it.

But what says M.C? Its Aristotle himself hath proposed this Division; is there any appearance that he understood not what he best knew, and that he had not studied the nature and conditions of Ratioci∣nation?

We shall never be troubled with this thought, and we know that in his works, wherein he should have examined the nature of Ratiocination to the bottom, he hath very well made it appear that he had a perfect knowledge thereof. But we also know that he hath not equally everywhere treated of things, and that there are places where he hath examined them with all subtility, and with all the delicacy of Science; and others wherein he hath spoken but superficially, and in most common No∣tions. It's what he says at the entry of his Morals, where he advertiseth the Reader, that in two sorts of discourse he must not require an exact perquisiti∣on of things, but onely that which belongs to the subject we treat, and that his design was grosly and superficially to touch 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, the matters which ought to enter into this work. After having so clearly explicated himself, was it handsom for M. C. in the dispute we have, where it was in question punctually to observe the nature and con∣ditions of discourse, to use those passages of the work wherein the Author himself protests he ought not to speak exactly of things?

Besides Aristotle made not this division, and was far from it, knowing so well the nature of Ratio∣cination as he did. He says in the place alleadged by M. C. that the soul which is capable of reason, hath two parts; the one which contemplates those

things whose principles are necessary and un∣changeable; the other which considers contingent things, which he hath elsewhere expressed by the words of Speculative Understanding, or Practical Understanding, but he speaks not there of Ratioci∣nation; neither ought he to have spoken, for be∣sides that we may consider necessary or contin∣gent things without reasoning, we may make pro∣bable and topical discourses on necessary things, as well as scientifical and demonstrative, as it hath often happened to M. C. and to my self. It's true it seems that Aristotle hath restrained contingent things to moral Actions, and Deliberation to that Ratiocination which is made for them. But M.C. minded not how that wonderful spirit, whom he beleeved in this occasion he was to follow, did all at once fall upon a subject, which he ought not to have handled without going to those things which were nothing to his purpose. Without this thought he would have said, That of contingent things which are in our power, and that we can do either good or ill, some respect manners, others arts; and that we may deliberate on either, since both give way to choyce and to election, which is the principle of Deliberation. For an Artist may have several ways to attain his end, and to consult on them, that he may chuse that which is most fit and useful for him. For which cause he said in his third Book, that there is a larger field for consultation in the Arts then in the Sciences, and commonly the examples he gives of Deliberation are drawn from Physick, Architecture, and such like.

But without musing on this distinction, which

no man was ignorant of, which he had already touched and served nothing to his Morals, he cuts short and says, That the contingent things he was to speak of, were moral actions, and that the Ra∣tiocination imployed therein was Deliberation; for deliberation says he, is the same with reasoning, and not as M. C. imposeth it. That Reasoning is the same with deliberating, for as much as rea∣soning is the gender, which ever ought to be distin∣guished from the species, as Logick teacheth; and it's true, that all Deliberation is Ratiocination, but not that all Ratiocination is a Deliberation; nor that all Deliberation is concerning Manners, as hath been said. I very well know that this latter is the more noble, and the more excellent by rea∣son of its use, which respects the Soveraign good and principal end of a Man. But in it self, it is not more perfect then that which is imployed in Arts, which as well as that of manners possesseth all the nature of Deliberation.

Whether one can Deliberate when there is but one mean.

Let's now see whether he will prove more happy in destroying then he hath been in establishing. On what we have proposed, that we often make use of reasoning, where there is but one onely way to attain an end, and that consequently we may reason without deliberating, since we never deliberate but when there are several means, and that we have the liberty to chuse which we please. Hearken to what he opposeth. 1. That experience

teacheth us that men forbear not to deliberate, al∣though there be but one way to attain their end; for those who would go from Rochel to the Isle of Rhe, although they very well know that there is no other way but to put themselves on the water, they forbear not to consult those who are expert, and to deliberate on what they should do.

M. C. makes it here appear, that he is no more knowing in the nature of the means then in that of Ratiocination. For he heeds not that one onely thing may serve for divers means. First, by seve∣ral circumstances which follow it. For he who would pass over into the Isle of Rhe consults not whether he should pass, it being supposed that he must ne∣cessarily pass, but he may whether he should pass at such a time and at such a hour, in such a ship with such a Sailor, and so of a hundred other things.

Secondly, Were it diversified by any circum∣stance, were a man at liberty to leave or take it, it may afford two several means, and he may delibe∣rate whether it be good to do it or not to do it. In effect, Deliberation supposeth Electi∣on, and Election requires several things; for where there is but one there can be no choice. So that if we deliberate on one only mean, it of ne∣cessity must be diversified by circum∣stances or by different considerati∣ons, which may give place to choice and to ele∣ction.

But what says he? It often happens, that when we have but one means left to attain our end, we

forbear not to consult in our selves to know whether this means is proportionable to our end.

He here confounds Speculative Knowledge with Practical Knowledge, and Ratiocinati∣on with Deliberation. When one would know whether a means is proportionable to ones end, one may reason but one cannot deliberate, be∣cause there is nothing there to do, &c. which is in our power, and that deliberation is but for things which are in our power, and which may be done several ways. M. C. did not consider that the speculative knowledge always precedes the practical; and that before we act for an end or by means, we must know there is an end, and that there are means, and so of the rest, which is not from a practical Knowledge. After all, if M. C. would ever continue in his error, yet must he needs confess, that seeking whether a mean is proporti∣onable to its end, there are two parts to be taken, the Affirmative or the Negative, which may pass for two means and two things, whereof we may take our choice.

We may say as much of him, who knows the Gangrene will soon run to his heart, unless he have his arm cut off, and that it's the onely way to save his life. And of a guilty person condemned to be questioned, who knows that to shun death, there is no means left but for a time to suffer pain.

But what ever M.C. say, Neither the one nor the other of them deliberates thereupon, I mean on the means to escape death, since neither of them hath but one, and of necessity they must make use of it, supposing they will absolutely shun death. They

may well discourse on this means, examine whether it be proportionable to its end, consider the difficul∣ty and a hundred other things which may enter his thought, but all this is not subject to Delibera∣tion, unless you would say, That they may con∣sult on the means they ought to use to practice pa∣tience in those encounters. But it's to change the Hypothesis, Patience would lose the quality of a mean, and of it self serve as an end to the means de∣liberated on.

The second Reason M.C. produceth is, That we often finde occasion to deliberate when the onely mean is dangerous and difficult to execute.

I have often sought in what this Reason was dif∣ferent from the former. And how it was impos∣sible for me to divine it, I at last stopt at this opi∣nion, That it was the Printers fault who had let pass a new example to confirm M. C's propositi∣on for a second Reason. He should therefore have a care that so considerable an error in judgment may not be found in the next Edition. In the inte∣rim I have nothing to answer on this example, but what I have said for the rest; for if there be no other means to attain an end but what appears dif∣ficult and dangerous, if we must make use of it we do not deliberate. We may reason on the diffi∣culty, and on other circumstances which accompa∣ny it, but that is noe deliberation; unless on would seek means to take away the difficulty and the danger, in which case, what is difficult and dan∣gerous, would in that respect pass for the end, and no more as the means.

In pursuit of this example, here is what M.C.

adds, pag. 113. But when the connexion of a means to an end is evident, &c. we fall to it without rea∣soning, that is to say, without consulting. Where∣upon I might say first, That the But which begins this discourse, being but an adversative particle, as the Grammarians say, and which imports a sense contrary to the precedent proposition, is not in its place, and produceth not here the effect it ought, because the difficulty and the danger which is found in a means, hinders not the connexion of that means with its end, from being certain and e∣vident. But as I will not make punctilio's upon words, in imitation of M. C. the things he pro∣poseth furnishing matter enough without inquiring into his manner of speaking; I answer, That when the connexion of a means, and its end hath all the conditions he alleadgeth, it carries one to it without consulting, so as it be an onely Means. For if there were divers whose connexion were such as he says, as it may often happen, there would be a way to deliberate which were to be used. And in this case the evidence of the connexion would not hinder the deliberation. So that the Reason for which we consult not in the action proposed by M. C. happens not from this evidence, but from that there is but one way to attain the end, and that there must be divers others to give us cause to deli∣berate; so there is a great likelihood that M. C. is fallen into this Sophism, A non causa pro causa:

But, says he, to what purpose is it to reason on a thing whose conclusion is more clear, and more con∣formable to our appetite then the Propositions you

might draw from thence? To what end is it by a Middle to joyn an End and a Mean, whose sequel is immediate and evident?

There are here many things to be said. 1. If he takes the word of Reasoning for Deliberating, as he lately did, the consequence he dedueth is vain for the reasons we have already given. And if he takes it in general for all kind of Discourse, he changeth the Hypothesis, and from Deliberation he makes us pass to simple Ratiocination. How∣ever it be, if he understands it in this latter way, let him if he please remember how we have said, That the means enter into Ratiocination; for they onely commonly pass for Enthymema's shortned, and new consequences added to the conclusion of the Ratiocination which we made for a principal action; he may well see that the application of the means to its end, is not so clear nor so conforma∣ble to our appetite, as the propositions are whence it is inferred. For the design to obtain the good wherein the end consists, is the principle whence the necessity is drawn to imploy the means for its search. Now the end is naturally better known and more conformable to the appetite then the means, because it is the cause of it, and that it enters knowledge before them.

On the contrary M.C. imagines, that the Ra∣tiocination which we put in practice of means con∣sists onely in the connexion they have with the end, without considering that this connexion makes but one part of it, and that it's the principle whence the practical judgment is drawn, which is the con∣clusion of all Ratiocination. Thus when we

know a thing to be good, and that it may be done by such means, we conclude, that we must make use of such means to do it. And this conclusion is drawn from the connexion of means with the end, which is comprised in the second proposition of the Syllogism.

Let not M. C. then ask us any more, To what purpose 'tis to joyn by a Middle, the End and the Means, whose sequel is immediate and evident. For we seek noe a middle to joyn them together, but to joyn them with operation, and the connexion which is betwixt them is the Middle, by which we infer that we must use that means to arrive at that end. But besides, he must consider that the most part of the means which we use are known by the experience which we have formerly had of them, and that in that case we make the same Ratiocina∣tion, which is to be found from Instruction and from Custom. For we must unite the Image of the thing present which we would use to attain the end, with the image of that we have made experience of, and thence afterwards draw a consequence for the future.

Whether Ratiocination be onely to clear doubt∣ful things.

At last M. C. supposeth, page 113. 118: That we cannot reason but on things where there is doubt and obscurity, and that in those which are e∣vident by themselves, or by the sense, there is no Rati∣ocination to be made.

I know he is not the onely Man of this opinion, and if we were to follow the plurality of votes, he

would have a great advantage over us, who are of a contrary party. But besides, that in these mat∣ters the weight and force of Reason is to be pre∣ferred unto the number and authority of the per∣sons.

M. C. shall bear me witness, That those Philo∣sophers who have treated of it, give us so little know∣ledge of it, that it is not likely that any of them daigned seriously to consider it. If this be so, it can never prevail with the multitude, which greatens the party; and neither he nor I ought to be over∣taken by those prejudicate opinions which have been received, without having been seriously ex∣amined.

That we may not therefore fall into that neglect which he hath justly taxed, and not suffer our selves to be preoccupied by the sense of other Men, we must have recourse to the source of things, and see in the Nature it self of Ratiocination, to what use it may have been destined.

The best foundation we can give to this enquiry is, That all faculties have a natural inclination to produce those actions which are in their power, that they tend thither as to their end, and to their perfection, and that they never forbear to act when all conditions necessary to action occur. From this principle which is as clear as the light, and which draws its proof from all things, which are in the Universe, it follows, that all the faculties of the soul have the same inclination, that they seek but to act, and that those which have no other action but knowledge cannot hinder themselves from knowing when their objects are present, and when

they are not otherwise diverted. If there are then the principal actions which form knowledge, to wit, the first Conception, the Judgment, and the Discourse; It must needs be that the faculties which are capable to produce them, produce them in ef∣fect when the object of every of these actions are present unto them, and that they are neither divert∣ed nor hindered. Now the object of the first are those which present themselves under one onely Image: That of the second are those which pre∣sent themselves under two images, which may unite or separate themselves. That of the third are the rest which are of a greater number, and which may be linked together by a middle which is common unto them. So that in the same manner, as at the presence of a simple object, that faculty which is not diverted is necessitated and cannot hinder it self from producing in it self that image in which the first and simple conceptions consists; And that it's constrained to unite or divide two different images wherein the judgment consists; as also when it finds more which linck themselves together, it must of necessity bind them, and make this re∣turn and circular motion, in which the nature of Ratiocination consists, as we have shewed.

From hence we must necessarily conclude, that it's indifferent for this third operation, for the things to be evident or doubtful, forasmuch as sup∣posing that there are three terms, or three images; which altenatively may joyn themselves together, and suffer this circular revolution we have spoken of; The faculty must necessarily assemble them, since it is not hindred, and that the object of its

action is present. But yet it follows That Evidence and Certainty far from serving as an obstacle to Ratiocination, advance and favour it; and on the contray, Doubt and Obscurity retard and hinder it. For it's certain that if the connexion of terms is evident and certain, the concatenation which discourse requires will the sooner be made, and more perfectly then if it be found obscure and doubtful: Forasmuch as time and pains is required to take away obscurity and doubt, and consequent∣ly to encounter this common concatenation, which ought to unite all the parts of Ratiocination. But this truth cannot be contested, if it be true That there are Ratiocinations made in an instant, as we have shewed. For all the propositions which com∣pose them being then at the same time known, there can be not one more doubtful and obscure then the other; and the conclusion which makes it self assoon known as the antecedents, ought to be as clear and evident as they can be.

To conclude, Experience and the Schools teach us, That Science and opinion may be found to∣gether for one and the same thing as well as Faith and Science; and therefore since we cannot prove the conclusions of Science by topical Arguments, and Propositions of faith by demonstrations, we may reason on things which are not doubtful: The conclusions of Science, and the propositions of faith, leaving no doubt, and being most certain and most assured.

Yet we may object two things (p. 113.) The first That the Soul ought then to go all at once to the conclusion, without making all this progress unpro∣fitable

to its self. But to this we answer, That this progress is natural to the Soul, that she cannot march otherwise, and that to make her move in another manner were to violence her nature and to destroy that action which is most proper and most convenient for us, as a circle which cannot o∣therwise be moved but by the turns and circumvo∣lutions it makes about it self: The Soul which in some manner may be said to be of that gender cannot also move but by discourse, which is a circu∣lar motion. It gives it self some agitation in its first Knowledges, but if she is not hindered she never stops there, and ever makes its revolutions entire. Indeed without doubt, whoever would observe the manner whereby the Understanding knows things, will find that it makes but few motions or simple propositions, which are not accompanied with a compleat discourse; and although speech makes but one part appear, it forbears not to make it in its self intire▪ and to joyn in secret to the no∣tions, it expresseth the antecedents or the conse∣quences it's composed of. This also is performed with that swiftness, that it's impossible the Voyce and Tongue should follow it, nor that speech should mark all the thoughts it forms in these encounters.

As much is to be said of the Imagination, and even with more right, because it's a Faculty which is not free, as is the Understanding, but which is absolutely determined by the objects, and which operates not but for the preservation of the Ani∣mal. So that we may be assured that she knows nothing but she makes a practical judgment of it, whether it be to follow or to forsake it, whether it

be to do it, or not to do it; now if this be so, it forms no Action nor Proposition without reason∣ing, as hath been shewed in the precedent dis∣course. However it be, the progress which the soul makes by reasoning thus, is not useless to it, as hath been said, for although the conclusion were as evident unto it as the propositions it makes use of to attain it; yet she fortifies herself in the certainty she hath of it by the knowledg which these propositions afford her, & she takes them as witnes∣ses which do not discover to her the truth which she knew from elsewhere, but which confirm her in it.

Neither is it a thing particular unto her on this occasion, she doth the same in all her other know∣ledges; for although she is assured by a sense of the object which it represents, yet she enquires the judgment of others, she will have those truths con∣firm'd by experience, which reason holds indubitable and that reason shal hold up these experiences which she beleeves most certain. She will even reason on misteries of Religion, and joyn Science with Faith, as she often joyns Opinion with Science; and herein she follows the intention of Nature, which to assure Animals in the knowledge of things use∣ful unto them, will that all the faculties and all the means given to that end shall concur thereunto to∣gether. This doctrine is not unknown in the Schools, who hold that the first principles how evi∣dent soever they are of themselves, which need no other knowledge but that of terms, and which na∣tural light make us presently comprehend, yet ought to be known and proved by the Induction. Now it is not that the Induction gives in the evi∣dence, but it is that it fortifies and confirms it, as hath been said.

The second Objection is, That the Conclusion draws its evidence and its proof from the antece∣dent propositions, and consequently it ought of it self to be obscure and doubtful. But we should say, that the proof of the conclusion is ever in power in the antecedents, and not always in effect; that is to say, that were it necessary to prove the conclusion, it might be done by the Antecedents. But when the conclusion is certain or evident of it self, it needs none of this proof, unless for the reason before mentioned, to wit, to confirm the truth which she makes known. So that in this case the conclusion doth not effectively draw its evidence from the propositions which precede it; and this maxim is not true as to the effect, but for the con∣clusions which are obscure and doubtful. Where∣to may be added what we have said in the Chapter of the Third Part, that things are known or un∣known by the Senses or by Nature, and that a conclusion may be known by one, and unknown by another. And then the Antecedent will serve as a proof, not for sensible evidence, but for natural evidence. So this Proposition, Peter is risible, is evident of it self by sense and experience, and were it to be proved by a universal proposition, it is but to give in the natural evidence, which it hath not. After all this, being evident by the senses, the proof added thereunto, whatever it were, serves but to confirm the truth which is already known from elsewhere.

We may therefore reason on things which are not obscure nor doubtful, and consequently the evi∣dence of means, were it as great as that of the end,

cannot hinder the soul from reasoning, not onely to apply them to that end, but also to the operation which ought to follow this knowledge, as we have before said.

That we cannot apply the Means to the End with∣out Ratiocination.

M. C. hath then much deceived himself when he assures (page 114.) That all the error of his adversaries comes but from that they imagine that its impossible to use means to attain an end without reasoning. For all what I have said makes it ap∣pear that there was no error therein; and all what he says afterwards to shew that there is, proves no∣thing what he pretends.

First, The example he brings of insensible things which use means to attain to their end without having any knowledge of it, is altogether imperti∣nent. For, the question here is not to know whe∣ther the imployment of means in general to attain an end. require Ratiocination; the question is re∣strained to things which operate with knowledge. Now it's certain that Animals know the end, to which they tend, as we shall shew hereafter, and consequently, they also know the means to attain it. And by the reason before alledged, they ought to reason to apply the meanes to the end, and to the practical judgment which they make before they make use of it.

It's true, if there were a knowledge to be found by which we could imploy those means without making this judgment which devanceth all the mo∣tions

of the appetite, and which is the principle of all animal operation: perhaps I might confess that Ra∣tiocination would be nothing necessary. But where were this knowledge to be found, since of all the things which are in nature the Animals onely are knowing; and that to operate they must judge that the things are good and possible, and that from the goodness and possibility they find in them, they conclude that they must do them, which can∣not be without reasoning, as we have demon∣strated.

In the second place, the example he adds (pag. 114, 115.) of Children, of Fools, as those benum∣med, of timerous persons, &c. who without reason∣ing, as he says, employ means to do a thing; All these examples I say are useless to our question, for they do exclude but the Ratiocination of the superior part, which is not here in question, and presuppose the Ratiocination of the Imagination, which is as much as to say, that they do not employ means without reasoning.

Yes, I grant, That a Child which reasons not, yet brings its hands to its face, to take away what troubles it; that falling he opposeth them to save himself; that he casts himself on his Nurses breasts; that he useth more strength in sucking her as he hath more need; and hides it self from one who hath frighted it, and useth a hundred several means for several ends. But although it be true, that this Childe reasons not, yet it cannot yet be understood but of Intellectual Ratiocination, and not of that of the Imagination which goes before all these actions, as, we have shewed in several places of this Work.

It's the same with those benummed, who how little sense soever they have remaining, shrink back those parts where they are grieved; for so long as they still feel, their Imagination must work and move the appetite to these motions, and conse∣quently make that Ratiocination which we have so often spoken of.

We may say as much of a Man whose appetite prevents all the conclusions which his reason can make, at the unexpected encounter of some spark of fire which burns him. Of timerous persons, who without reasoning flie from those things which ap∣pear frightful; and of those to whom the sight of a Serpent, of a Mouse, or of such like makes them out of countenance, by the antipathy they have together. For all this may well be without the intervention of the Superior Reason, but not without the reason∣ing of the Imagination. In the mean time M. C. confounds these two things as well as the design and intention, which are to be found in these two facul∣ties, since he says, That all the actions of the Appe∣tite are performed without design, that we often laugh without any intention, and that the apprehen∣sion of tickling causeth us often to make involuntary shrugs. Now it's certain that by this kind of speak∣ing we can say nothing but that these actions are done without the Design and Intention of the Su∣perior part. And it cannot fall into the thought of any reasonable person, that from thence one might infer that they were done without the design and intention of the sensitive soul, presupposing that it is capable of design and intention, as we have shewed.

So that I pitty M.C. for having taken so much pains to accumulate reasons upon reasons, and heaping examples on examples to prove a thing which is besides the question, and to have forgotten the decisive point of our dispute. Truly had he fallen into the defect he reproacheth me to have done in some place, to have made principles according to my fancy, to draw from them conclusions accord∣ing to my pleasure: Should he, I say, have here done the same thing, he would have been more excusable, to have ill proved what he should have proved, as not to have known what he should have proved; For the first, there is onely want of sufficien∣cy; But for the latter, there is want of judg∣ment.

Beasts know the End and the Means.

I should here finish this long Examen, were it not for the understanding of what we have said. It's to the purpose to shew, that Beasts know the End and the Means which they make use of to at∣tain it. I have therefore made one Article apart for it in my first Discourse of the Knowledge of A∣nimals in pursuit of an objection, whereby we would prove that if the Instinct were enlightned by reason, how smal soever it were, Beasts would know wherefore they operated, and although the answer we gave belongs to Instinct, what we have added to the end respects the Knowledge of Beasts in general; wherefore in fine to examine it here, that there may be no difficulty left in the prece∣dent Discourse:

I have therefore said, That no body hath yet doubted, but that Beasts knew the principal end for which they operated. For even those who would take away Reason from them, have not deprived them of that advantage, and were constrained to confess, that as all things tend to their end, those that are insen∣sible are born to it without knowing it, But that Beasts have the knowledge thereof, although it be not so perfect as that of Men; and certainly they know what is good and profitable for them, and consequent∣ly they have a knowledge of their end, since the good and the end are in effect the same thing. It's true, that they cannot know but under particular reasons, and that they never form general notions as Men do; But it's sufficient to say that they know the end they tend to, and consequently they also know the means which are necessary to attain it; For it were needless they should know the end, were they ignorant of what were to be done to obtain it. In effect, we cannot doubt but the Dog known the Hare as the prey which he would take, and that when he runs after it, and useth so many endeavors and so many slights to catch it, it is not likely but he knows they are means he must use to attain that end. Who ever would con∣sider the artifice our domestick Linets use when their meat and drink is hung in two little Buckets, and when they will get them near they draw the cord which holds them, and with their foot hold them whilst they continue to use their Bill, he will without doubt be constrained to confess that they do all this with knowledge, that they know the thing which ought to be done first. In a word, that they ordain the means which they judge necessary to obtain the

end proposed. Why should they not have that power, since they have, as we have shewed the faculty of Reasoning to which it belongs, to put things in order, to compare them together, and to destine them to what use we please.

To all which M. C. first opposeth, That he is of Aristotles opinion, and of those who followed him, who will have it, That Beasts sometimes have not more knowledge of the end whereto Instinct leads them, then his pen had of his writing. And that in other occasions they know the thing which is their end, but that they know it not as the end, nor as a cause of those means which they imploy to ob∣tain it.

But without touching what respects Instinct, of which we shall elsewhere speak, I shall advise M.C. before he go on further on this subject, that he would bring Aristotle in play; for besides that he is a testy Author who will not be produced by all sorts of people, and who discovers but to few the secrets of his doctrine: he hath already so ill suc∣ceeded in reporting his opinions, that we may with reason doubt he will not prove more faithful to him here, then he hath been heretofore. For my part, I cannot remember that I have read what he makes that incomparable spirit say; All what I can answer to that pretended authority is, that whe∣ther he or his Sectators should say, That Beasts know not the thing which serves for their end as the end, and as cause of the means, which they imploy to obtain it, they understood nothing else but that they make no abstraction of the end nor of the means; neither do they consider in the things,

by a notion separate from the things themselves; and to speak according to the Schools, they know not the End nor the Good under the formal rea∣son of the end and of good. However it be, they know the things are good and useful to them, they bear their desire unto it, and do all what they can to obtain them. Now if the end be the same, why, or to speak better, for love of which we act, and that beasts operate but for the love of the good they find in the things; it must needs be that in knowing this good, and what is necessary for the obtaining of it, they should also know the end and the means.

So the Dog knows not onely the prey when he sees it, but he also knows that it's good; otherwise he would not desire it. He also knows he must run after it to catch it, otherwise he would not run; and consequently, he knows the end and the means, since he knows the goodness of the prey, and that for thats sake he ought to make use of the course, and those subtilties he knows to catch it. These truths seem of themselves so clear to me, that I wonder M. C. should reprehend me when I said, That they were not to be doubted; and that he in∣sists so strongly to demand of me a proof thereof, I should pardon him, had he had no tincture of Phi∣losophy, or had he not had common sense; for there needs no more to judge of the evidence of these propositions.

But says he, Beasts know what is good and useful for them, without knowing that it is useful. This proposition is false in one sense, and in the other there is a manifest contradiction in the terms it's

composed of. For if he means, that Beasts know the thing without knowing it to be good and use∣ful; this is absolutely false, it's necessary it should appear good unto it, since they desire it and pur∣sue it, even as that for which they have an aversion, and which they fly, ought to seem ill and hurtful to them. Forasmuch as the Appetite which is the principle of these motions cannot be moved but by what appears good or ill to the Animal. In effect, since a good thing may sometimes be pleasing, and sometimes offensive to them; and that a Dog at one time flies his Master, whom before he caressed, the same object must be considered two different ways to cause these two contrary motions; and we cannot figure to our selves any other considerations but those of being good or evill.

M. C. says of a truth at the end of his fourteenth Chapter, pag. 117. That Dogs are sensible of the benefit of fire, without knowing that it's the fire that doth them that good. But thit requires a good proof, for since they fear to be burnt when we bring the fire too near them, they must needs know that fire may do them harm; they then flie it as ill; so that it must needs be that when they come near it they also know it as good and useful; why should they not have this knowledge since they well know that a man who threatens them and lifts up a stick against them, is a thing which may mischeif them? For there is no reason why they should rather know what beings them an incommodity, then what may be useful to them.

Yes, but if Dogs knew that it were fire which did them good, they would learn to make it. This is not

necessary, and there is no consequence from the one to the other; for there are a thousand things which we judge useful without taking care to make them. M.C. knows well that pistols are profitable for him, and yet he takes no care to make them. And to stay on this example, Dogs certainly know that bread is good; and whoever would prove as M.C. doth, that they finde it not good, because they never learn to make it, would render himself altogether ridiculous. In a word, when we say that Animals know things, we intend not that they have all the knowledge which may be had thereof; that which they are capable of hath its bounds and limits, and seldom goes to the practice of Arts, which were invented by reason of a many experien∣ces and Ratiocinations.

Let's return to M. C's former proposition; which may admit of another far worse sence then we have now examined. For if he means that Beasts know the good and the useful, without knowing that it's good and useful to them, therein is a contradiction: whether he confounds the good and useful, or distinguisheth the one from the o∣ther: Because that if they know not what is good and useful, as he says, they know it not to be good and useful; they then know that it is good and useful, and that it is not good and useful. If his thought be that they know good without knowing that it is useful to them: It's as much as if he should say, that they know that is good, and that it is not good, forasmuch as to be useful is to be good, and all that is known as good, is known as useful: And the reason of this is, that good is not good but as

it's convenient, and all what is convenient perfects, and all what perfects is useful. It is not but that in knowing that a thing is good, we know all the uti∣lity can cause; but also, we do not know it then, in the extent of its goodness; for if it were so known, we should know all the utilities it could af∣ford.

Thus much for what concerns the Objection which M. C. made against our first Example of the Dog which knows the end and means of hunt∣ing. For I am not to stop at what he says, that he beleeves not That the Dog makes any reflexion on the first knowledge he hath of his prey. Forasmuch as if he will speak of a true reflexion, I shall be∣leeve it no more then he; but if he means that he doth not apply himself, and stay to consider it, or that he cannot make that return in which we have shewed that Reasoning consists, he is in the wrong not to beleeve it, for the Reasons already said.

Our second Example is of Linnets, who with their Bills draw up their meat and drink which is hung in smal buckets, whence we inferred that they knew the end and the means. For first, they know the meat and the drink, which is the thing they need, and the first object which strikes the appetite. And afterwards they judge they ought to draw it near, it being far from them, and they therefore draw the string it's hung on, and stop with their foot what they have drawn, to get the rest in the same manner; and all this terminates it self in possessing meat and drink, which is the first thing which enters their knowledge, and for

love of which they use all this Artifice. Now if this is not to know the end and the means, there are few amongst men which know them, since they do no more in their ordinary actions.

To this M.C. answers, (page 91.) That since I give this for an example of the Instinct, he need not trouble himself to explicate it. Meaning to infer that he hath made it appear, That Instinct ex∣cludes all knowledge of the end and means; for it's what is here in question. But without alimbeck∣ing the mind on this question, whereof we shall speak in the Treatise of Instinct, that on the con∣trary it's a general proposition which extends to all the actions which beasts do with knowledge; he would never have thought that I should have pla∣ced the artifice of Linnets for an example of In∣stinct. Besides that, having clearly enough ex∣plained my self on the nature of that cause which I found altogether shut up in the natural Images, he could not reasonably have beleeved that I rela∣ted to the Instinct the proceedings of Linnets, whereto so many artificial things concur, since there can be no natural images of those things which were invented by art. Neither did he insist thereupon, and part to an alternative, by which supposing, That I related this example to the Ima∣gination, without interesting the Instinct, he sends me back to the explication he made of my other ex∣amples which I might apply unto this, and wherein I shall see that this action whether it be done by habit or by instinct, may be performed without reasoning. But I shall also send him back to the answers I have made to those explications, where he shall see that

all things done by custom or by habit presuppose the help of reason. Besides that, the division which he brings is deficient: for the action of Lin∣••••ts may be performed otherwise then by habit and by instinct, it may be done by imitation and inventi∣on; and certainly the first time they draw the string to bring op their buckets, it's neither by habit nor by custom, neither is it as we have shewed, by Instinct. It must needs therefore be that they must have seen it done, or invented it by themselves. Now in all this there is Ratiocination as well as in the acti∣ons of men, who draw water out of a Well, or Crane up any other thing by a rope.

But I am not awares that following M. C. I straggle out of the way; the question here is not whether Linnets reason, but onely whether they know the end and the means; and had M. C. but taken heed to prove that they have this knowledge I make use of the Reason with which they are in∣dewed, he might well have perceived that I intend∣ed not thereby to prove that they did reason; other∣wise I should have brought for a proof what now is in question. But as it is a truth which I had de∣monstrated, before I might make use of it, to make it appear that they know the end and the means; because it's for Reason to know them, to compare things one with another, and to destine them to what use it pleaseth. Let not M. C. be scandalized on the word, he takes not away liber∣ty as hath been said already in the first part of this Discourse. For although beasts chuse not the means, and that at first they are determined by what first presents it self, or is most efficatious,

we may nevertheless say, that they will, that they desire, and that they are pleased to make use of such a means.

Let's add to these two Objections what he says, 1. That men reason not to prove the first principles. 2. That by reason they cannot perswade themselves to what the Senses manifestly shew them. 3. Because it's to overthrow the nature of Ratiocination to em∣ploy as a proof what is more obscure then the things which we would perswade. 4. And that they would laugh at a man who would discourse to know whether the first-step of a Stair-case serves for a means to rise to the second. 5. That in fine, amongst all the things which are to be judged by sight onely and re∣port which is evident to the Senses, we onely make use of simple conceptions. 6. And that if there be no doubt and obscurity, we need none of this Examen, nor of this Deliberation, whereby he defines Ratiocina∣tion.

But how easily soever the answer which is to be made may be found to all these Reasons in the pre∣cedent Discourse: Yet for M. C's satisfaction I shall answer to every one in particular.

First, What he says of the first principles is not absolutely true; for if they may be proved by in∣duction, as Aristotle teacheth us, we must needs reason to prove them, since the Induction is a Ra∣tiocination. On the other side, were it true, That we should not reason to prove them, I am very well assured that we could not know without rea∣soning. Because that besides that they are univer∣sal propositions, and that the Understanding can form no universal notion without discourse, as hath

been shewn. To conceive them it must needs com∣pare the one with the other, and consequently it must reason, since without reasoning we cannot compare things. In effect, we cannot say nor comprehend that the whole is greater then its part, not even conceive what the whole or the part is, without comparing the one with the other; foras∣much as there is a mutual relation betwixt them, which enters into the essence of either; and that we cannot define the one, but the other must enter into the definition; it's the same with all the rest, for when we say that a thing is or is not, and that nothing is and is not at the same time, we must compare the being with the not being, and make a many reflections, wherein necessarily Ratiocination must be involved. It's true, this is done so swiftly, that it seems as if there were onely simple notions; at least the mind contents it self to express by one only proposition all the progress it hath made ther∣in, and will not any more explicate a thing which it well knows, that others with it conceive it after the same manner; Even as to witness that it con∣sents or doth not consent to what is proposed, there needs but I or no; although in themselves they make an entire discourse, knowing well that these monosyllables will make it sufficiently known.

As for the second proposition, besides that it is not every way true, and that there are a hundred encounters wherein reason perswades what expe∣rience and the senses manifestly make known, as we have shewed; It's useless in the matter in question, if it be not restrained to operation; for I admit not that the Imagination should reason on the

knowledge which the senses have of their objects, but on the application of this knowledge to opera∣tion. So when the Animal judgeth such a thing to be sweet or good to eat, I understand not that it reasons thereon, but onely when it from thence concludes that it must be eaten.

And when he says, That it's to overthrow the na∣ture of Ratiocination to make use of for a proof what is more obscure then the thing we would perswade. This is true, when we imploy it for an absolute and ne∣cessary proof, and not when 'tis but to confirm the evidence and certainty we have thereof. This again may be true when we use this proof by choice and by election, and not when 'tis by constraint, and that of necessity we must pass by this middle, to go to the conclusion, as it happens in most of our rea∣sonings, and in all the reasonings of Beasts.

So that there is no way left to laugh at a man who would reason to know whether the first step of a stair served for the means to get up to the second, p. 117. For besides that he cannot consider the first de∣gree as a mean to arrive at the second, unless he com∣pare them together; if he apply the knowledge he hath of it to the operation, he must necessarily reason; neither can he do otherwise. It's true, that if he expressed by speech the reasoning he made thereon, perhaps they might have occasion to mock him for speaking a useless thing, &c. which all the world knows. In the same manner a man might render himself ridiculous if he would prove to a man that he is a man, and such like things which he cannot be ignorant of; after all this I shall send back M.C. to the fifth Chapter of my Third Part,

where he may find how the means enter into Rati∣ocination.

But must we still stay at the last of M. C's Pro∣positions which we have so fully refuted? All our second Part is imployed to shew, that the Imagi∣nation may make propositions of things which are evident to the senses. We every hour make the like, and every moment we say, That Snow is white, That the Sun is luminous, That Time is obscure, &c. In the mean time these are not simple concep∣tions, since they are true Propositions, and conse∣quently it's false That in all things which are judged by sight onely, and whose report is evident to the senses, we imploy onely simple conceptions. To con∣clude, we have made it appear in the Fourth Part, that Deliberation is not of the essence of Ratioci∣nation, and that it ought not to be defined there∣by, as M. C. hath done. And truly methinks for the love and respect which he owes the truth, he will not oppose himself to what I here present him withal; and that since he hath so freely granted That besides Contemplation and Deliberation, Beasts may do all what the mind of Man can do: He will also then confess with the same ingenuity that they per∣fectly reason, after we have shewed him that Man may perfectly reason without any contemplation or deliberation. For although hitherto he hath had cause to rest in those vulgar opinions which have not precisely observed wherein the nature of dis∣course consists, and which have not considered it but in the conditions and in the qualities which are no∣thing essential to it; it's to be presumed, that having acknowledged the error in which they are, he will

now forsake them, and joyn with me to make a more ample discovery of that truth, which I have encountred, and to give the last touches to per∣fect what perhaps I have onely dead-coloured.

Yes without doubt if he approve that all the action of Ratiocination consists in this circular re∣volution which the soul makes on these images, and that the Syllogism is not formed but by the return she makes on these first notions to joyn them with the latter. Perhaps he will also consent not onely that to reason she needs neither deliberate nor medi∣tate, and that in this knowledge she may be the Senses slave, and suffer her self to be forced and necessitated to the first means which presents it self. But like∣wise there is nothing in this action which surpasseth the force of the Imagination, and that consequent∣ly Children and Animals may perfectly reason if he look on the perfection which is essential to Ra∣tiocination, and not to that which is strange and accidental; for if there are perfect reasonings to be found in which the Soul makes no abstraction or reflexion, no universal notion, nor any deliberati∣on, as it appears in the most part of Expositive Syl∣logisms, all these conditions of necessity must not be essential to discourse, and that that which is made in things purely simple, wherein not one of these circumstances meet, must to speak properly and exactly, be a perfect Ratiocination. But we must give time to M. C. to resolve hereupon; in the mean time, let's see what he objects against the Language of Beasts.

CHAP. III. The Third OBIECTION. Of the Language of Beasts.

IF Beasts did Reason, they would reason not onely together, but even also with men. They would speak with one another, and if they were deprived of speech, they would at least fancy to themselves as well as dumb persons, some signs, and significative gestures to make themselves understood; so that it's an evident token that they want Reason, since they cannot perform any of these things which are the ef∣fects and natural sequels of Ratiocination; but those who make this objection do not heed that they lend us arms to combate them, and that if we come to shew that all these actions are common and ordinary to Beasts, they must of necessity confess that they have reason, since they are as they say the effects and natu∣ral consequences of Ratiocination.

Now all the world agrees, That they communicate their thoughts, and without consulting the Books of the learned, every man of himself may make proof of this truth; for a man must be extremely stupid not to observe that all Beasts which have the use of Voice, use it to make their desires known, and that they have cries and different accents, according as the several designs which pleasure or grief, hope or fear inspire in them. Do they not intercal themselves

when they are in love, when they want help, when they have found any food which they may impart to others? For it's certain, that if a Sparrow comes to a place where there is much corn, he will call the rest unto it; and that a Wolf having found a Car∣rion will bring his companions to it: Some even say that either of them diversifies its voyce according to the nature of the thing they encounter, and that that marks by a particular accent whether it be Wheat, Barley or Buck which they have found. And this hath its different roar when 'tis the Car∣rion of a Horse, or when 'tis that of an Ass. But without examining the truth of so curious an obser∣vation; can we observe a Dog shut up in any place presently begin to make long sighings, and after∣wards change them into redoubled barkings, and last of all howle out till he is out of breath, without fancying that he would make it appear by these dif∣ferent crys the several passions which his captivity causeth him? And whoever perceives little Chick∣ens flie and hide themselves at the instant when they hear the Hen cry, and afterwards return again under her wings; when she useth another, follow and run to feed, according as she diversifies her voyce, will doubtless judge that there is a communication of thoughts amongst them, and some kind of Language whereby they make themselves understand one another. And certainly whoever observes that of all Birds, would make no difficulty to beleeve that Tiresias, Melampus and Apollonius have formerly under∣stood it, and if that any man would apply himself unto it, he might yet learn it. And that its even easie by imitating it to entertain ones self with them, since

in some manner we daily do it, when we take them by the whistle, and that we bring them whether we please by counterfeiting their voyce and accents. But it is not onely by Voyce that Beasts make themselves understood; the Look, the Mind and the Gesture also serve them for the same purpose; they know as well in one the others eyes the passions they have, and a Dog will see in the forehead of a Mastiff, whether he may with security approach him, and whether he be in sportful humor. Doth he not threa∣ten when he shews his teeth, when his hair stands an end, and when he looks through him who assaults him? In fine, all his corvets and his carressing postures, all the flattering motions of his Tail and Ears which he makes when he accosts his Master, are but so many signs and very significative gestures of the desire he hath to please him.

Now if Beasts communicate their thoughts toge∣ther, of necessity they must entertain one the other, and even they must reason together, and that the Discourse must enter their thoughts, as we have de∣clared. And had we brought no proofs of this truth, we could not conceive that they made their intentions known, to give or ask help, to or from one another, but we must beleeve that they form a perfect Ratioci∣nation; for there are so many judgments to be made in these encounters, so many consequences to be deduced, so many progresses which the soul makes from causes to the effects, from signs to things signified, and from goods and ills present to those which are past and to come; that it's impossible but we must finde the form and contexture of Discourse. I would willing∣ly ask our Adversaries, if when a Hen having

found some grains, calls her Chickens to impart it to them, when they come to her, and that they cackle together, and that afterwards she onely takes the grains in her Bill, and so leaves them without eat∣ing; I would fain I say ask them whether they will acknowledge no discourse in all these proceedings, and whether they do not beleeve that she calls her chickens with a a design to cause them to come, to shew them their food, and to nourish them; and that they them∣selves understand the voyce which summons them, that they comprehend the thing which she signifies unto them, and that they hope to find the good she tells them of. Can all this be done without Discourse, and a man who would do such like things, would he not be thought reasonable? they will without doubt say, that this may be true in the most perfect Ani∣mals, in whom it's likely Nature hath given a voice for the communication of their thoughts; but that if it have deprived others, it's a sign they had no need of that communication, and consequently they have no Reason, since they cannot entertain themselves nor discourse together. We readily confess that there are many which are dumb, and which by the voice can∣not make themselves understood; but if Nature could not give it them because they ought not to re∣spire, she hath recompenced them in other things which may supply that defect. The most part of insects, and even some Fish, have they not a particular sound which they form by moving some parts of their bo∣dies, whereby they make those passions appear, where∣with they are agitated? When the Grashoppers sing in fair weather, do they not witness the plea∣sure they receive thereby? When Bees hum extra∣ordinarily

in their Hives, is it not a sign of the divi∣sion which is amongst them? and that humming noise which they make being stopt, is it not an evi∣dent sign of their anger? On the contrary, whoever hath told them, that these Animals do not make themselves understood by their gesture, and by their motions? Certainly after the examples which we have of other Animals, which make use of the same means to discover their intentions, it were to be very bold to say, that these did not make use of it for the same design. But what? We are ignorant of the most part of those which are ordinary, not onely in Beasts which live with us, but even in Men, amongst whom there are but few who hath not some particular sign to make himself understood, and that it's impos∣sible to divine it, but after a long habit: And should we dare assure, That Animals whose nature and life is so far from estranged from ours, should have none at all? No, no, most part living together, and even some keeping some form of Policy and of a Republick, as the Ants, they must communicate their designs, since it's the onely bond which binds and pre∣serves all societies.

After all, were it true that Beasts performed all their actions by the onely conduct of Instinct, with∣out communicating their thoughts together, what ne∣cessity would there be that for that cause they should not reason? May they not reason in themselves, and a man who were all alone or deprived of the use of all the Organs, whereby he might make himself understood, would he be for that deprived of Reason?

I know very well that there is no body who would censure without passion what I have here said of the Language of Beasts, but will approve it, and will not onely wonder at the design M. C. hath made to confute it, but much more at those Reasons which he hath made use of to that pur∣pose, page 160. For it's strange that a witty Man, as he is, should not have known that all those which he useth are useless to the matter in hand, and shake not any of my proofs, nor of my con∣clusions? In effect, all what he says is grounded on the definition of human speech, and on those de∣signs which the Understanding forms, which are not here in question. So that all the consequences he draws from these two principles, must needs be vain and impertinent according to the terms of the Schools; And in defence it were sufficient for me to say, That he supposeth what he should prove, and toucheth not on the difficulty.

But because he is not of so easie a composition, as I perswaded my self, as in this Chapter he as∣sures us, and perhaps so short an Answer could not make him comprehend the defects of his cen∣sure; I shall explain my self along with him, and examine all his Propositions one after ano∣ther.

But I will not stop at these, at the beginning of his Chapter where he hath more laboured the gen∣tility then the solidity of thoughts, and where he rather endeavored to shew the beauty of his mind rather then the truth of the things in dispute. For when he says that to perswade him, That a Beast Reasons, the Beast it self must tell him so, I find

that to be as pleasantly and gallantly imagined, as he is weak to prove what he pretends.

Neither is there any likelihood that he would beleeve a Beast upon its bare word; he particu∣larly who is so hard to be perswaded, and would not suffer himself to be touched with so many im∣portant Truths as have been proposed to him. For my part were I of his opinion, should all Beasts together tell me, That they discoursed, I would not beleeve them; neither should they any more per∣swade it me, then all the Fools I know should, did they assure me they were wise. But if it were possible that M. C. in earnest thought to have thereby proved That Beasts did not reason; those also of China or Malabare, to perswade him that they were reasonable, must tell it him themselves, and he must needs fall into that inconvenience, that untill he could understand their Language, he must still be obliged to doubt of it. For it were to no purpose to say, that the figure of man would suf∣ficiently clear it, since there have been Beasts dis∣covered which are so like men, that there is scarce any difference as to the outward form. After all, there would be but one onely answer to make here∣upon, That Animals have often told him that they had Reason, and if he understood them not, it was his fault, and none of theirs.

But says he, they ought then to tell it him in the Language of Men, and learn to speak as we do.

This is neither just nor necessary; why should they be more obliged to learn the Language of Men, then Men are to learn theirs. And ought

not M. C. to have imagined, that they might say the same thing of him as he doth of them, and that they have reason to doubt whither he Reasons, until they have learnt his Language, and that he hath as∣sured them of it in the same terms, as they use a∣mongst themselves.

He adds, That if they cannot learn to speak, it comes from no indisposition which they have in their organs, as might be imagined; for their organs differ no more from ours, then ours do from theirs; and therefore since the most stupid amongst men may so easily imitate what we call the Speech of Beasts, there is nothing which can hinder them from learning of ours.

All this Ratiocination confirms what I have said before, That this is but a pastime for M. C's spirit, to divert it self before it enter into a more serious Examen. For besides that he beleeves not that all Animals have proper organs to imitate the Lan∣guage of Men, and that there are onely Parrots and Pies, and some others, which have this pri∣viledge, for those Reasons which are known to all the world; It is not likely that he should approve the way of argument he here useth, since that if it were good in his way, we might prove things most false and most extravagant. On the model he makes, might we not say, that the Dogs paw dif∣fers no more from the hand, then the hand differs from the Dogs paw; and that therefore since the most stupid amongst Men may do with his hand whatsoever a Dog can do with his paw, nothing

can hinder a Dog from doing with his paw, when men do with the hand; That is to say, that no∣thing hinders but that he may write, play upon in∣struments, and do what Art executes with the hands. By this wonderful way of reasoning we might also prove that a Fool is a very able Man; That an Ignorant is very knowing; That men are as intelligent as Angels; And even that they are as powerful as God, and a thousand such like ex∣travagancies.

At least, says he, p. 191. those Birds which learn our Language should make use of it to discourse with us, and to demand from us their necessities; and since they do it not, it's a sign that they do neither speak nor reason.

It is to exact from them things we would not ex∣act from M. C. had we taught him to speak as we do them. For when we teach them, we design onely to make them learn the sound of the words, without minding to make them comprehend the sense. And in the way it is taught them, it's almost impossible that that they can conceive what is sig∣nified by them, because we never repeat a word but the circumstances and objects with which it was at first accompanied are changed, and that there is no place to fix their thought on one onely signi∣fication, seeing so many different things whereto the word they learn might be applied. For my part it were nothing difficult for me to beleeve, that if in teaching a Parrot the word bread, were onely presented to it principalement when it had need to

eat, that at last it might comprehend that that word where-ever it were would signifie bread; and why might it not be capable of this knowledge, since Dogs not onely do very well understand the names imposed on them, but all other words which use to make them do so many several things as they have been taught? For all the words we give them are signs by which we make them comprehend the intention we have that they should do what we re∣quire them; so that in doing them, they compre∣hend the sense we meant by these words.

Yet because we will no longer insist hereupon; it's sufficient to say that M.C's Reason is not con∣cluding, since children which we teach Latin, are not obliged to use it to entertain themselves with others, nor to demand their necessities. Birds which have been taught to speak, have as they have another Language, which they use for such things as that which is more familiar, and consequently more easie: And certainly we may be assured, that it is with Men and Beasts when they speak to∣gether as it is with two Strangers, which entertain themselves every one in its natural Language; for a Man speaks to them in his Language, and Beasts also speak in theirs; and it happens also to them as to those strangers, that they often understand one another, and that often they not at all under∣stand, having not a full knowledge of the Lan∣guage which either of them make use of.

But it's to study too much on M. C's divertise∣ment, which from sports of the mind, by a long examen might become the plays of children, and provoke the Readers wrath to see us so ill imploy

both ours and his time; it's sufficient for him to know that I have had a care of his honor, when in my first Discourse I discharged his Objection of all its weakness, and that I should never have thought to have spoken of them here, had he not reproduced to light, and ranked them at the enter∣ance of his Chapter: Let us now go to more important things, and see how he hath weaken∣ed or baffled the Answer we made to this latter Objection.

Beasts communicate Thoughts.

On what I proposed, That we could not doubt but that Beasts communicated their thoughts not only by the voyce, but also by the gesture, mind look.

He ••ests agreed; But says he, page 162. that we cannot infer from thence that they speak together, all communication of thoughts being not speech, and speech being not all what the thought marks. Which he proves, 1. Because speech is not a natural sign, but a sign of institution, which hath no signification but that which is imposed on it by the agreement and consent made amongst those which use it. 2. For as much as to make use of speech, and to be able to say we speak, we must have a design to express our thoughts by it, and know that it's a sign to make our selves understood. Whence he concludes, That Beasts do not speak, forasmuch as the diversity which is in their voyces comes from Nature and not from Institution, and that they express their thoughts by this diversity, without having intention to express them, and without knowing that it's a means to make

themselves understood. But not to foil M. C. at the beginning of the Examen we intend of all these propositions; and to let him know that I am a tractable man, who will not use him rigorously; I shall consent to two of his Reasons, so as he will give me leave to deny the consequences he draws from them.

For as for the first, I hold with him that speech is a sign we make use of to make known our thoughts, which is not natural, and is introduced by the agreement and consentment made amongst those which use it; but I hold also, that this ought not to be understood but of human speech; so that all what he can infer from thence is, That Beasts do not speak the Language of Men, and use not humane speech to make their thoughts understood; which I will not contest with him, the point of our question consisting not therein: Ours is to know whether Beasts have a Speech different from that of Men; Now it's to reason ill, to say that Beasts have not a Speech different from that of Men, because they have not that of Men. To make this consequence good, he must first shew that there is no other speech but that which Men use: Thus M. C. cannot here excuse himself from having fallen on a Sophism which supposeth what he should prove; and which Logick calls Petitio principii; But it is not sufficient to have told him, he hath straggled, we must also shew him the right way, and make him see what the Nature and Essence of Speech is; for after that he himself may judge that he was in the wrong to take it away from Beasts.

Speech is an Articulate Voyce.

Although Speech be an Accident which is not capable of any true essential composition, yet we forbear not to figure therein several parts, whose nature is in some manner composed; for we there∣by do not onely find out its gender and its differ∣ence, but we even find out its matter and its form. The Voyce is the gender and the matter, as the Sound is that of the Voyce, forasmuch as Speech is a Voyce, but hath somewhat more then Voyce, and in this more consists the difference and the form of the Voyce. In effect, it's a sound as the Voyce; its formed by the organs of respiration, as that is, and as that it also serves Beasts for a sign, and as the means to make known the motions of the Soul. But what it hath above it, 'tis that its production depends on a greater number of organs, and that it signifies more things then the Voyce doth simply alone. And to speak it in a word, its Articulate. For the use of several organs is the cause of Articulation, and Articulation which diversifies the Voyce, serves to express the more things by this diversity. All the Philosophers are also agreed, that exactly to define Speech, we must call it An Articulate Voyce, and that all articulate Voyce is Speech.

But that we may well explain wherein this Arti∣culation consists, we must first know what the Voyces are we call articulate; for there are those who do not acknowledge it in the vowels and in the consonants, which are the first differences of the

Voice, but even who maintain that divers vowels joyned together, can form no articulation unless they are accompanied with consonants.

And certainly there is reason to doubt for the vowels and consonants as they are simple, because the elements of a thing are not the thing it self, whereby they are elements; and therefore the vowels and consonants cannot be words since they are the elements of Speech, as all the world ac∣knowledgeth. Now they were words, were they articulate, because they would be articulate voyces. On the other side, cryings and exclamations, where∣in simple Vowels commonly do onely enter, which grief or some other passion extends and lengthens, are not placed in the rank of articulate voyces, no more then whistlings and all other voices which are made by semivowels all alone. And consequently it seems that articulation onely belongs to a voice composed of vowels and of consonants.

On another side, since all words which are parts of discourse, should be articulate, the Interjections, Adverbs and Prepositions, and even some Greek and Latin Verbs, which consist but of one vowel onely, must be articulate Voyces. Add that we have examples in Greek Poets of some verses which are made of one onely continued vowel, even to the length the verse requires; and therefore these kind of vowels are articulate words, since they are onely articulate words which may enter into the composition of verses.

In the second place, as articulation requires some constraint in the voice which makes it bend, and hinders it from going forth in an even thread, and

with freedom. It seems that several vowels enter∣ing into the composition of the voice without con∣sonants, can make no articulation, because the voice finds no hinderance when it forms vowels, and runs all in one course along the tongue, instead of which, consonants in passing strike on their organs, and turning from the direct way which they would have taken without that obstacle. Whence it fol∣lows, that vowels whether they be all alone, or whether they follow one the other, render not an articulate voice, and it's the reason for which the most part of Beasts have not an articulate voice, forasmuch as they do not form consonants, and that all the diversity of their voyces consists in the bringing together and in the sequel of different vowels. But also we may hereunto oppose, that in all Languages there are many words which have a perfect sense, and which are composed of several syllables whereunto none but vowels enter; as eo which signifies I go, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 which signifies Eggs, and the like, which we dare not place in the number of voyces which are not articulate. And that con∣sequently articulation may be found in the bring∣ing together of several vowels, and the precedent Reason is not capable to banish it from the voice of Animals.

Wherein the Articulation of the Voyce consists.

To get out of these doubts, we must observe, that as the articulation of the voice hath taken its name and origine from the articulation of the bones, It's impossible exactly to know what it is, but by

the relation it hath with this; and that we must ne∣cessarily suppose as a most certain foundation that both the one and the other are made proportion∣ably in the same manner, and for the same end. So that the joynts being destined to make the Members bend, and move, distinguishing them one from another, and yet uniting them together; the articulation of the voice must also serve to bend and turn it, and make the distinction of its parts appear, although it bind them the one with the o∣ther. This is manifestly seen in those words which are most perfectly articulated, where the syllables are as the joynts which make all these several re∣flections of the voyce, which are to be observed in words, and which consequently distinguish the parts, and bind one with another to make whole words of them. But we must yet observe that as there are several kinds of articulations in the bones, some where most is most apparent; others where it is less so; and some where it is altogether ob∣scure: There are also several articulations of the voyce, wherein its more or less sensible; for in the Vowels all alone it almost appears not at all; when they are joyned together it's more manifest; but it's most evident in the consonants; and the more there are, whether in one or in many syllables, the more the turn and inflection of the voyce is therein remarkable.

The better to comprehend this, we must consi∣der that the nature of the voice, as of all other sen∣sible qualities is to dispence it self on all sides in streight lines: And that when it finds any obstacle which bereaves it of the liberty of thus extending

it self in length or breadth, it bends and bows it self several ways; and if we may so say, it in some sort complains of the constraint which it suffers.

So that in general there are two inflexions, or different articulations of the voyce, the one when it's hindered to enlarge it self, and the other when it cannot run in an even thread. The first is, when coming out of the throat, where its principal or∣gan is, it comes to encounter the mouths cavity, which obligeth it to restrain it self, and in some manner to assume the figure it findes in that part; for according as the opening is great or smal, round, square, or otherwise, the voyce conforms it self to all these figures, and takes these different sounds, which are observable in the five Vowels, A, E, I, O, Ʋ. Now we need not doubt but that there is therein a true articulation, since there is a right inflexion, the voyce which seeks to extend it self being in that streight which it is to pass forced to lessen it self. Otherwise we must say that words composed of pure vowels are not articu∣late, because they are not formed by any o∣ther kinde of articulation, but that which we have here observed.

The second is, when the parts of the mouth op∣pose themselves to the voice, and strike on it as they pass, interrupting the equality of its course, and forcing it to turn it self out of its right way: as it happens to waters which run through pebbles and other such like obstacles; and this interruption forms all the consonants; the voyce rendring it self soft or dry, sweet or sharp, clear or obscure,

quick or slow, according as the stroke is made, and according to the nature of the organs, which in some manner imprint on it the qualities it hath. But as there are parts which cause a greater hinder∣ance to the voyce, some then others, there are also Consonants wherein articulation is more or less sen∣sible, which for this reason are divided into Mutes, Demy-Mutes, and Demy-Vowels.

The greatest obstacle is to be found in the Mutes, because the Voyce finds the passage quite stopt, and that endeavouring to get out, its op∣prest, and as it were stiffled, it beating against the organs through which it passeth. Now there is nothing but the Tongue and the Lips which may cause this hinderance, because there are only those two parts of the Mouth which truly move, and whose motion serves to form Speech; and as they strike the other parts more strongly or more softly, they produce two sorts of Mutes; if it be by the Lips the passage is stopt, the voyce issuing out forms P or B. If by the Tongue, either it is by its Basis which strikes the Palat, and bring forth C and G. or 'tis by its point, which strikes against the Teeth, and makes T and D. Amongst the Dem∣mutes, the passage is truly stopt, as in the Mutes, but the voice is not stifled as it is here, because it engageth not it self altogether betwixt the organs, which resist it so that it returns back, and seeks turns to flye out. Wherefore they are called li∣quids, because they make a reflux, and have a wave∣ing recourse like the water, which returns back to its source, when its stopt. When the voice is there∣fore hindered from going out of the lips which shut

themselves, and that it returns towards the Nostrils it changeth it self into a kind of bellowing, which makes M. If the hinderance happens on the Tongue which with its end strikes on the roof, then either the voice takes the same tune back, and pro∣duceth N, or else escapes by the sides of the Tongue in the to cavity of the Cheeks, and forms L.

To conclude, in the Demi-vowels, the passage is not absolutely shut, as in the rest of the Conso∣nants, but it's very much streightened, so that the voice is constrained to fortifie it self by a greater breath, the more easily to issue out of so streight a passage: Now the breath at its going out is pressed either by the teeth whence comes S, or by the Tongue whereby it makes R, or by the Lips which produce the consonant V, or by the Lips and Teeth together which make F, or by the Tongue and fore∣teeth which form the Z, or by it and the Teeth which we call dog or eie teeth, whence is the conso∣nant J. Or again, by it and the great teeth whence comes the Shin of the Hebrews, and our Ch in French, to which we hitherto have given no simple Character. All this would require a longer Ex∣amen then we can here afford it; but it is suffici∣ent for our design to know that the voice is therein articulate, because it suffers inflexion, and that it sensibly turns and binds it self. Yet we must con∣fess that these two kinds of articulation which are in the vowels and consonants are simple, and that in comparison of those which are composed of them, they are neither so evident nor so perfect; and as commonly the most accomplished things carry a∣way and reserve the name of all the gender, al∣though

in effect it appertain to all the rest; it also happens that the most composed voices, and where there is most articulations, are for their excellency called articulate, the simple and the less composed being not placed in that rank, although truly they ought to be so as well as the rest. And thence it comes that in comparison of humane speech, which is without doubt the most diversified in all kinds of inflexions and motions, there are none but that to whom the common use of Tongues would give the name of articulate, all the rest being so little to its proportion, that unto it they alwayes seem as if they were not so at all.

But Philosophy and Truth which do not subject themselves to so extravagant and unequitable a Judge, and which preserve the name to all things, which belongs to their nature, acknowledge that all voices which have an inflexion are articulate, and that they ought to be called so: So that on this ground, to take away those doubts which are pro∣posed at the beginning of this Discourse: for the vowels and consonants are not called elements but in respect of the composed word, and not of speech in general; every one of them being a word which hath no elements, and is indivisible, even as when we exclude out of the rank of articulate voices, Groanings, Exclamations, Whistlings, and the like, it's by comparison with speech which is diver∣sified by divers syllables, and is used in the common commerce of men; for those are true articulate voices which are composed of several vowels, or re∣doubled or continued demi vowels; but which are not so much so, as the words which enter into our

language, wherein the consonants and vowels are diversly mixt together, and make a many different articulations.

From hence it's easie to judge, that all the essence of articulation consists in the onely inflexion of the voice, and that all the rest is exterior and strange to it, for although it be destined to express the mo∣tions of the mind, its its end and not its essence, the end nor the efficient cause never entring into the essence of things. So that the assembling together of divers vowels and consonants, which signifie nothing, forbears not to form articulate words, as the Blictri of the Schools, and the words which our Parrots learn have all the smoothness and all the variety of pronunciation which we give them, although as to them they signifie nothing, no more then those Latin discourses which are taught chil∣dren; and as we may not say that these latter are not articulate voices, and true words; we must needs al∣so confess that the words which birds learn are of the same nature.

But I shall say more, holding to this restriction, the cries and accents of all Animals, which have the use of voyce, must of necessity be articulate voices, although even it should not serve them to express the motions of their mind: Because there is not one wherein is not onely some vowel which is continued and lengthened, as in the bellowings of Bulls, and howlings of Wolves, or cut and repeated, as in the barking of Dogs, or mixt with several o∣thers as in the Nightingales singing, as in the warb∣ling of Birds; But even also wherein some conso∣nants may be observed which makes the articula∣tion

thereof; which is particularly observed in the bleating of Sheep, in the crowing of Cocks, in the meawing of Cats, and in the hissing of Serpents, where the B, and the C, the M and the S, which are of the order of the consonants, are distinctly un∣derstood, as we have shewed; and we are not to wonder if there are consonants which Beasts do not pronounce; for besides that, they have not all the organs which are necessary thereunto, there are even also whole Nations which cannot form some of them; the Arabians use not the P, nor the Greeks the J and V consonants, nor the Italians the Ʋ vowel: otherwise always imploy the T for the D, the C for the G. and History observes that antient∣ly the Alphabet was composed but of twelve Let∣ters.

The Voice of Animals is then articulate, but it's far less so then that of men, of which there are two principall reasons; the first is drawn from the end for which it was given them, and the other from the cause which affords the means to attain that end; for as the voice is destined to make our thoughts known, and that the diversity of articulation serves to express the diversity of thoughts; it was necessa∣ry that Man who is more fruitful in thoughts then Beasts, should also have a greater diversity of arti∣culations in his voice. Besides, because it's Nature a∣lone which gives to the voice of Animals the facul∣ty to represent the thoughts, and that it's the Will and not Nature which hath given it to that of men: The means which are therein imployed must be proportionable to these two causes, and that those which Nature furnisheth must be more simple, and

in less number then those which part from the Will, because Nature ever determines herself to a few things, and that the Will is a power without bounds, and whose capacity is infinite.

In effect it were not possible that the language of Man should be purely natural, as is that of Beasts; not onely because he hath the liberty to form an in∣finity of thoughts, whose original is not to be found in Nature; and whose nature consequently cannot give him the marks and signs which are capable to represent them to him; But also because his know∣ledge being to be acquired but by little and little, and time ever adding something thereunto, he ought to have a language which might suffer the same changes, nor which needs either be fixed nor tied to its birth, as that which comes from Nature is: It remains then that he should form one himself, which depended on his choice, and which might be aug∣mented, diminished and altered according to his pleasure. Such is that of all Nations who have ta∣citly agreed together, that they would use certain words to signifie such and such things, which with∣out this connexion and consent would signifie no∣thing at all.

To terminate therefore this long enquiry, since its resolved that the voice of Beasts is articulate, and that it's significative of their thoughts, as that of Mans is, we must of necessity conclude, that its a true speech which beasts speak together, and that every species hath its particular language even as every Nation hath a proper one; it matters not that the causes which render it significative be dif∣ferent, because the diversity of causes and of means

changeth not the essence nor the species of the effect which it produceth. And as there are Animals which ingender by generation and by putrefaction, and things which Art and Nature produce, which forbear not to be of the same kind: So the articula••e voice which is significative by nature, cannot be of a different species from that which is by the institu∣tion, and by the consent of Men; Or the interjecti∣ons, and some other words which enter into our dis∣course, and which naturally signifie the motions of the mind, of necessity must not be placed in the rank of the words.

But I shall say more, whoever shall well consi∣der the cries and several accents of Animals, he will find that they are by institution as well as the speech of Men. For they do not signifie of themselves the passions they represent. Otherwise it must needs be that Beasts who have all the same passions, must al∣so all have the same voices, and that that cry which signifies such a passion, must be a like in all the kinds of Animals, at least as much as the diversity of or∣gans could suffer it, which is contrary to experience. But the difference found therein comes from the in∣stitution of Nature, or rather from God himself, who hath imposed to such and such accents such a signification as it pleased him, and which of them∣selves they could not have had. So that we may say and it's true, That the Language of Beasts is in that point like to that which man received from God at the birth of the world. For even that signi∣fied of it self nothing, no more then theirs: Neither did it come from the choice or institution which Man made of it, no more then that of Animals; but

it was instituted by God, who gave to those words which were to compose it, the sense he pleased, even as he did in the other. So that as the first language of Man is not of a different species from that which Men have since invented, although the one is from divine institution, and the rest from humane; It necessarily follows, that the language of Beasts is not different from ours, in that it comes from the in∣stitution of God and of Nature, and that ours comes from the institution of Men.

That the Voice of Beasts is made with design and in∣tention to express their Thoughts.

But we must return to M.C. who being of the hu∣mour I know him to be will not consent to all these truths, and who without doubt will maintain that all these Reasons cannot perswade him that Beasts speak; forasmuch as to say, that we speak, we must have an intention and a design to express our thoughts by the voice, and know that it is a sign and means to make us be understood; So that Beasts having no de∣sign nor intention to express their Thoughts by the Voice, and not knowing it to be a means to make them understood, although it were even articulate and sig∣nificative, it would not be a speech, and we could not properly say they speak.

This is the second Reason which I have already touched, having answered to one part of it already; for I hold with him that the Thesis of it is true, and that to speak we must have a design to make known our thoughts by the voice, and to know that it's a sign and a means to make us understand: But I also

hold that the Hypothesis of it is false, and that the proofs he brings to maintain it are pure Paralo∣gisms, and conclude nothing which may either hurt or serve me. For to shew that Beasts have no inten∣tion or design to make known their thoughts by their cries and by their accents, he produceth one∣ly examples of voyces, which passion makes some persons send forth without any design or intention of theirs. Now it's undoubted that in there encoun∣ters the words of design and of intention can onely be applied to the Understanding and to the Will, and that this signifies no more, but that passion sends forth those voices without the Understanding or Wils contributing thereunto. And therefore he can from thence infer nothing but that Beasts have not a design and intention which proceed from the supe∣rior part.

Now I consent, pag. 163. That a man that feels grief feels himself also forced to complain, although even he should have no design to make himself under∣stood, That there are persons, who by their sighs and unvoluntary groanings have discovered what they had a long time hid; That there are some who being alone break out into open laughter, and cannot even hinder themselves from it in company, what intention soever they have to fain themselves sad; That in fine, divers will cast forth cries in a surprise, who would not cry at all, had they but time afforded them to form some design. But I also hold, that this also concerns not our question, because these complaints and these sighings, these cries, and these laughters, which in truth devance all the motions of the Intellectual Reason, exclude no other resolutions nor other de∣signs,

but those of the Understanding, which is not the thing in question. To give some force to these examples, he should have proved, that the imagi∣nation concu••s not to all these actions, and that they are done without their having any design or invention of doing them; but truly to have per∣formed it, he must have destroyed all the most assu∣red Maxims of Philosophy, and the most certain order which the soul keeps in the ordinary opera∣tions.

For it is undoubted that all those motions of A∣nimals which we call voluntary, come from the e∣motions of the Appetite, which is the principle thereof; and that the Appetite never moves it self without the Judgment of the Imagination, which proposeth and ordaineth what it is to do. Now it doth not only order it to make it more in members, because it is but one means to attain its principal action; But it self proposeth the action it self, which is the end and aim the Animal tends to. If this be so, since the voice forms it self by means of the muscles, the judgment of the Imagination must needs pre∣cede their motion; and that this knows that the voyce ought to form it self by their means, and that it orders the Animal to cry; Now if she knows, and if she ordains, she hath a design and an intention to form a voice; because the design is nothing but the judgment and the proposition which the faculty makes to execute what she finds good. As the in∣tention is nothing but the motion which forms it self in the appetite in pursuit of that judgment; And consequently in all the examples proposed by M.C. the grief non•• he surprise excites no sighing, cries, or

other voice, which the mind had not a design and an intentention to form.

Let no man object, That it's true, the Mind hath a design and intention to form the Voice, but none to make it self be thereby understood. For if she hath an intention to form the voice, she must have it as of a thing good and profitable to it; for as much as the intention always respects the end, and the end is ever considered as good. Now if from the voice we exclude communication and de∣sign of making it self thereby understood, there will therein be neither goodness nor profit, and conse∣quently the mind would not have the same intenti∣on of forming it. And why should not an Animal have a design to make it self understood by its crys, and by its accents, since it very well comprehends the thoughts of others by those which they form; and if it sufficiently understands them when it calls for their help, when it imparts to them the posture it hath found, when they advertise them of the dan∣ger which threatens them, why should they not make use of the same voice to give them the same knowledge?

Yes; but says M.C. page 164. These are the im∣mediate effects of passions, and he could never have beleeved that any man would have made use of those effects to have inferred a Reason from them. Let him not wonder at this; there are infinite many other most true illations, which he as yet knows not, and which he beleeves may not be drawn from many propositions which he knows: And without seek∣ing them further he minded not the consequences which I have drawn from the objection he made

me; for I necessarily from thence conclude that he hath here forgot the Laws of Logick, and the Max∣ims of Philosophy:

First, we dispute not here about Reason, neither will we infer from the diversity of the voices which Beasts have, that they reason, but onely that they communicate their thoughts together, that they have a design and an intention to do it, and that consequently they speak together. So that it seems M.C. hath forgot the state of the question which himself stated, and that according to his custom he falls into the sophism, that he raiseth what he ought not to raise; For although in pursuit of this, we may conclude, That if Animals speak, they must needs have reason, yet we are not yet there; 'tis a consequence which supposeth we proved that Ani∣mals speak, and 'tis to pervert the order of Ratioci∣nation, & precipitate matters to descend to this con∣clusion, without having cleared the preceding diffi∣culty. In the second place, p. 164. when he wonders that from the immediate effects of passion, I should infer the design and intention of the mind; He knows not that those principally are the effects which are performed with design; for as there are two sorts of them, the one of which are made for the end which passion requires, and the rest which are done out of necessity; the first are only made by design, and pass immediately from passion, the rest necessa∣rily follow those, without the souls having any in∣tention to produce them. So when anger makes a man cry, run, and strike, when it raiseth a mans brows, look through and shake his head, which pass immediately from the passion, and which are

also done with design, because they serve to the vengeance it proposeth to it self. But when it ren∣ders the voice hoarse, the eyes staring, the lips full and trembling, and such like, which we have else∣where observed, these are effects which the soul hath no intention to produce, because they serve for nothing to that end, they of necessity follow the former, and proceed not immediately from choler. From thence it's easie to observe, that the crys and accents which Animals form in their pas∣sions are the immediate effects thereof; we have had reason to infer the design and intention which they had to do them.

But we shall here observe another of M.C's er∣rors hid under the word Passions; for if he is of the opinion of the Stoicks, and that with them, he will reduce the nature of the passions to those ve∣hement troubles which are made in the soul, and are called Perturbations, as the examples he pro∣duceth make it suspitious; it is not true, that all the cries and accents of Animals are effects of the Pas∣sions, since there are a hundred encounters wherein they form several sorts of them, without resenting those violent motions wherein the perturbation of the Mind consists. Doth he think that a Dog is very much angry every time he barks at any one; and that the transport in which he is constrains him to throw out all the cries he makes in the same manner as Greif lets sighs and complaints escape? and that the surprise, or anger, or grateful things, robs from the Soul those great endeavors of the Voice which it causeth? Doth he think that a Hen which calls her Chickens to eat the corn she hath

found, is not moved to form all those several ac∣cents she imploys for that purpose, but by the ex∣cess of the pleasure which transports her, and that it is but as many cries of joy and forced exclamati∣ons, wherewith we sometimes observe the violence of passion dischargeth it self. If this were so, we must imagine that a very vehement perturbation is necessary to furnish the Nightingale with so long and opinionated a warbling as it hath; not onely in the Spring when they are in love, but also in the midst of Winter when they are kept tame, and that there is no thought of suspecting that love should be the cause thereof.

But if he takes the word Passion, as doth the wholesomest Philosophy, for all kind of motion which the Appetite suffers; it's true that all the crys of Animals are the effects of passion, because the emotion of the appetite is principle of the action which the organs perform to form the Voice. But in this case the examples he produceth conclude no∣thing against me, since they only respect perturbati∣ons and vehement passions. And that there are of another kind which produce effects of which we speak, others then those. For I know that a man may say that complaints, and sighs, and laughings are done out of necessity, as is the voice moved by a cough: But were it so, it follows not that all o∣ther voices should perform it after the same man∣ner; and M.C. hath no more reason to prove that Peasts form their voice without design, because there are men which make complaints and groans without any intention of doing so, then I have to shew that they form them with design, because there

are men which groan and complain with design and intention. For this proof would be equivalent with his; and should he have any thing to say against it, it would be that the men which groan and complain with design, do it out of Ratiocination, and that Beasts cannot use it; but it were to suppose what is in question. And therefore I see nothing hitherto in M.C's Examen which destroys those truths which I have established: Let's see how he hath succeeded in the rest.

He saith then, That if to diversifie the Voice were to speak according to the diversity of the passions, all dumb men would speak; for by their voice we know whether they are sad, merry, or angry. And yet they know not whether they have a voice or not, and by con∣sequence cannot know that the express compare them∣selves thereby. This reason is like the former, and is but a particular fact which concludes nothing in general. For were it true, that dumb men should discover their passions by their voice without any design of theirs, would the consequence be good for all others which are not dumb? And this example were better applied to Beasts then all the contrary examples which we have from the rest of Men which make use of the voice, with design and intention by it to make their passions appear. On the other side, it's no way to judge of the manner with which an action ought to be done to produce by way of ex∣ample those defects and irregularities which some∣times happen. We inquire how Animals make use of their voice and M. C. sends us to dumb persons, who are born deaf, and consequently know not whe∣ther they have a voice, nor the use of it; Should I

then grant him the thing he proposeth, it would be neither to his advantage nor to my damage. I shall go yet further, and shall consent to the last conse∣quence he draws from this Ratiocination, That since a dumb man makes his passions known with∣out design, and without knowing the means he therein imploys, Animals may also do so; But it therefore follows not that they effectually do it. There is a great difference that a thing may be done, and that in effect it is done; Perhaps Nature might have made in Animals, what according to his opini∣on she hath made in dumb persons; but we find that she hath not. Thus neither are we of a contrary opinion since he speaks but of the possibility of the thing, and that I consider it as it is truly.

Whether dumb persons speak, and how.

But without stopping at forms, and at M.C's man∣ner of proceeding, we must make it appear that in conclusion all the propositions which comprehend Ratiocination are not absolutely true.

First, When he supposeth That mute persons do not speak, That in some sense is false: Indeed they do not speak the common language of men, but they speak the language which Nature hath taught them as well as Beasts, and that's sufficient to say, that they are not absolutely mute; for to be mute, is in respect of the voice, and in respect of humane speech. Fish and all creatures which have not the use of the voice are called dumb in respect of the rest which have it, and not because they cannot speak the language of men. Even a Dog whose nerves, called the Recurrens,

are cut which serve to form the voice, is after that manner dumb. So that for a man to be absolutely dumb, he ought not onely to be deprived of Speech, but even of Voice; and if he makes use of this to express his passions, we may say that he speaks, since even all tongues will have it, that he speaks by signs.

But what says he? These damb persons can have no design to express their passions by their voice, since they know not whether they have a voice Certainly, they know not distinctly that they have a voice, since they are deprived of hearing, which can only give them a clear and distinct knowledge thereof. But they know it confusedly; that's to say, that they know that the action of the organs they im∣ploy, terminates at something which may express their passions; and evidently, to shew that that is sufficient to be able to say, that they speak. We need but consider the effects of that wonderful act, which teacheth dumb persons to speak, whereof we have proof in the person of a Prince, who is one of the most illustrious Families of Europe, and in that of a Spanish Lord, who spake and writ intelligibly. For both of them being born deaf, they know not what Voice is, nor whether they have any; yet they speak the language of their Country; they make their thoughts understood by it, and have a design to express them by the words which they pro∣nounce; 'tis not as we have said that they discern the sound of the words, but they know that there is I know not what, which forms it self by the motion of their tongue, and that by it, they make known their thoughts. So that they have the design and in∣tention

is to form the voice without distinctly knowing it, they make the organs move and know that from their action there will infallibly spring an effect, whose nature they are ignorant of, but whose utility is not unknown unto them. In the Arts there are a hundred examples, and in natural things, which may confirm this truth; but I shall give M. C. leave to divine them; and I shall content my self to ask him, if when he makes Theriacle, or such like an Antidote, his design is not by the mixture of the Drugs which compose it, to cause a secret and specifick vertue to come in, which separately is not to be found in them; yet he knows not what it is, and knows it only by its effects. He therefore hath a design to do a thing which he knows but confused∣ly. It's the same with dumb persons, who have a de∣sign to form a voice without knowing it, and who know only that it's a thing which may express their passions.

Now if dumb men have a design to form the voice which they know not; why should not Beasts who know it, and discern all the varieties thereof, have a design and intention to make use of it to express their thoughts? M.C. had therefore reason to have recourse to another example, which was more proper then all that to clear all the difficulties which in this matter are to be met withal. Let's see what it is.

He says, p. 165. That a child at its birth cries with∣out having any intention to communicate its thought; that a while after it laughs without any design of im∣parting to us its joy, and that consequently there are very different accents of the voice before we come to speech. This is that great example of a little childe

which ought to perswade us that Beasts speak after the same manner as he doth, and that they groan like him when they are sensible of ill, without thinking to cause any passions to come to their help.

But truly we may rest assured that M.C's child is not strong enough to maintain the consequences he builds on this comparison; a man need but blow to cast it down, and after all, what we have before observed, it's sufficient to say, that indeed he hath not the design and intention which proceeds from the Understanding and from the Will. But that he hath those which are made by the imagination and by the Appetite. And that he also hath not the speech which is from the institution and common use of men; but that he hath a natural speech where∣by he maketh known his passions. With this modi∣fication I shall consent that M. C. may compare the voice of Beasts with that of children. So as he will also be obliged to confess that this comparison is altogether useless to prove what he pretends.

It matters not, Whether Beasts, Children, or dumb persons groan when any thing hurts them, without meaning to make any person come to their help. For besides that I have not said that Beasts groaned for that purpose, and that it's sufficient for me if they have an intention to groan, and by their com∣plaints to make their grief known, there is a great deal of difference to think of doing of a thing, and to have a design to do it. A man in anger speaks all alone, strikes what he encounters, walks wiih large spaces, without thinking what he doth, yet he hath the design of doing so, since these actions cannot be done with the design and intention of so doing. But

he makes no reflexion hereon, or to speak better, his thought fixeth not on it, nor strongly applies it self elsewhere; and 'tis thereby that he thinks not of do∣ing all those things, and that afterwards he doth not remember that he did them. So Beasts, Children and men which g••oan, have a design to make known the greif they resent, and the need they have to be succoured, but they think not of it, not only because the violence of the passion hinders them from stay∣ing their thoughts at ought else, besides the evil they feel, but also because the knowledge which they have of the end for which they groan, comes from Nature. And that this knowledge is so present, and so familiar to the soul, and forms it self so quickly, and so secretly, that it demands, nor respects no at∣tention principally when there are other things which might imploy it. Wherefore when we fall, or when we see a blow come, we sooner bring our hands before it then we are aware of it. It is not that the soul conducts not the hands, and consequently that it hath not the design to oppose them against it, to lessen the greatness of the fall or blow; but both the danger which so strongly possesseth her that she cannot apply her self to the things she doth but by stealth, and the knowledge she hath of the end for which she acts, are so natural to her that she is moved thereunto not without design, but even without any attention.

However it be, we cannot set rules to the common voice of Beasts, according to the cries they make, when they are agitated with some vehement passi∣on. M.C. is not ignorant that the trouble they cause precipitates all the designs of the soul, and often

perverts and corrupts them. He knows that Speech which is destined for society, escapes those who are alone when they suffer any great motion of joy or displeasure; That a man in anger revengeth himself untimely, and strikes without cause whom he first meets; That violent desires cause the mouth to wa∣ter, when notwithstanding it is unnecessary; and a hundred such like examples, which all the passions furnish. Without doubt there is a great difference betwixt the groanings of a Dog when he is sensible of a strong greif, or when he would enter into a Chamber which is shut; in the first he scarce knows why he complains, but in the other he knows that it is to be let in, and undoubtedly he thinks to call some one to let him in. For we do not say as M.C. would have us beleeve, p. 166. That his design was to address his voice to other dogs to open it to him, be∣cause he hath no experience that dogs open doors, but that it is men which open them.

To clear this truth, I would counsel him to come to Paris to consult with famous Montdory's Cat, which is so discreet that she never means to come into the Chamber when she finds it shut, she only draws a little bell which hangs at the door, and if at first sounding they come not, and open it, she re∣doubles it untill she be let in. I doubt not but that after having known, that no body troubled them∣selves to teach her to draw the bell, and that of it self this wise Beast did learn to imitate those per∣sons which she had seen do the same thing; I say I doubt not but he will judge either that the Cat it self would answer him, if he would interrogate her thereupon, that she had no design to call other Cats

to open her the door, but those persons which were wont to do it. After all should a Dog or a Cat ad∣dress its voice to other creatures, as in several in∣counters without doubt it may, and that they would not come to its aid, as M. C. says: what conse∣quence could he draw from thence, but that it were deceived in its design, as it happens to many who unprofitably demand succour from those who ei∣ther cannot or will not give it them?

This is all what I had to say on what M.C. pro∣posed concerning the language of Beasts, and which will also serve for an answer to what he objects a∣gainst the other actions which they perform to make their thoughts known. For confessing that the gesture, the mind, and the look do it as well as the voice, he says as before, That its without design, and that there are the effects of their passions, of which Reason and design do not participate. But it's easie thereby to see that he confounds the design of the Understanding with that of the Imagination, as he hath done before. Wherefore I shall send him back to what we have already answered.

Since Beasts Speak, they must needs Reason.

After all these proofs which evidently make it appear that Beasts communicate their thoughts, and speak together, had we not reason from thence to infer that they did reason? Not only because M. C. finds this consequence necessary, but also be∣cause they cannot make their intentions known to demand help the one of another, with out forming a perfect Ratiocination. Seeing that there are so

many several judgments to be made in these encoun∣ters, so many progresses which the soul makes from causes to their effects, from signs to things signi∣fied, and from goods and evils present to those which are past and to come; that it's impossible but we must find it in the form and contexture of discourse. All what M. C. opposeth hereunto, is, That he hath shewn how Beasts communicate their thoughts, and how this communication may be made without Ratiocination. But if my memory be good, all his proof reduceth it self into two Reasons which we have destoyed; the one that they have no speech; and the other, that they have no design or intention to make known their thoughts. In a word, we have proved the contrary, and conse∣quently according to M. C's Maxime, had we no other marks of their Ratiocination, it must follow that they reason, since we have made it appear that they speak.

As for the example which we produced of a Hen which calls her Chikens to impart unto them the grain she hath found, and that it must needs be that she had a design to make them come to shew them their food, and to nourish them; And that they also must understand the voice which sum∣mons them, comprehend the thing which is signifi∣ed by it, and hope for the good which it announceth. He answers only, That all this is done by instinct. But this is not to take away the difficulty; the question is to know whether all these actions are done with knowledge▪ For if it be so, we must also confess that there is a Ratiocination, since so many pro∣gresses of one knowledge to another, cannot be

without discourse. And it matters not whether it be done by instinct; for as fear which comes from instinct is a true fear, and is of the same species as is that which comes from elsewhere; the Ratiocinati∣on which precedes the Instinct must needs be a true Ratiocination, and of the same nature with the o∣ther. Now it is not to be contested but that there is a knowledge in all the actions which the Hen and Chickens do in the example we brought, design and intention being therein, as hath been demonstrated. The Intention, forasmuch as it is the motion of the Appetite which tends toward good; & that the Hen and Chicken will do the things they do, and conse∣quently form the design thereof, which is a motion of the Appetite whith tends toward the good. The design because it's a proposition which the faculty makes to execute what it finds useful, which ever goes before the intention, and which consequently precedes the desire of the Hen and of the Chicken; They agitate them with knowledge; that's to say, they conceive the things which they judge good, and that they from thence draw those consequences which we have observed; all the difference which the Instinct brings thereunto, is, that the senses furnish them not with all the things which they know, and the greatest part of the objects of their knowledge must come from elsewhere. But whence soever they come, they form images thereof, and af∣terwards unite them together, wherein all know∣ledge consists: And were there any exterior thing intervening amongst these actions, it would be as a help, and not as a principle, because they are vital actions, whose faculties which are born with the

Animal, are the first and last causes. But we shall more carefully examine this in the Discourse of the Instinct. Let's then conclude and say with M. C. that as Reason is but an internal word, external Speech is inseparable from it; and if nature hath given to Ani∣mals internal speech, she must also have given them external speech. But yet since external speech is in∣separable from the internal, it must needs be that if Nature hath given them external speech, she must also have given them internal speech, which is Rea∣son. Now Animals have the thought as M.C. confes∣seth, and thought is nothing but internal Speech, as all our Masters consent, and therefore Animals have reason, since reason as M C. says, is but an in∣ternal speech, Besides, since we have demonstrated that they have external speech, it follows that if it be inseparable from internal speech, of necessity they must have Reason. Yet do not I ground on this all this ratiocination, and have only produced it to make it appear that M.C. hath as weakly established his own opinion, as he hath destroyed that of another mans. For to shew you that Beasts do not speak, he makes use of a paralogism, which may be retor∣ted against him, and proves quite the contrary to what he pretends. It's true, that Reason is an inter∣nal speech, but it is not true that all Internal speech is Reason. And had no Beasts Reason it would not follow they might not have external speech, because external speech expresseth as well simple as compo∣sed thoughts. But I shall say further, That although they have the internal speech, it's no consequence that they must have the external speech, since there are Animals which are dumb which forbear not to

have internal speech. Thus internal speech is not inseparable from external, as he says; thus the conse∣quence which he draws from so ill a Ratiocination cannot but be very ill.

Beasts which run to the cry of others, know it to be a means to call them.

The examples he produceth in pursuit to prove That when Beasts run to the cry of others, they know not that this cry is a means, or that its used to call them; These examples I say, do not conclude better then the rest of his Reasons. For besides that they are drawn from another gender of things then those we speak of, and which consequently cannot decide the matter in question; some do suppose that Judgment and Ratiocination cannot be made without time; which we have already demonstrated, is not al∣waies necessary. And from the rest we can infer no∣thing but that the judgment and the discourse of the Understanding concur not to the actions of Beasts, which is a useless and ridiculous consequence, since all the world knows that they want Under∣standing.

In effect, the first example is, of a man who going to see his friend, with an intention to laugh with him, finds his eyes in fire, and his face awry for this sight surpriseth and stops them, before he hath time to dis∣course and so much as to judge that he is in wrath. But he presupposeth, as we have said, That such a man must have time to judge and to reason, which is no∣thing necessary; for at the very moment he sees the marks of anger, he may judge and conclude that his friend is angry. Indeed he may doubt whether

those marks proceed from that passion, and so may suspend his judgment; bu it would still be true that he reasoned; forasmuch as to doubt, a man must reason, and have reasons on both sides which must hold the mind in suspence.

The second is, Of those who knowing the sweetness of some persons minds, forbear not when they accost them to resent some straint which the severity of their countenance causeth. For says he, this constraint is not an effect of their judgment, no more then the re∣spect which at first we have for a man of a good mind, or well apparalled, although we know that his inside is not answerable to his appearance, nor to his cloths. It is not indeed the Understanding which judgeth and concludes upon the occasions; 'tis the imaginati∣on which lets it self be won by appearances, and thereby judgeth of things. For since that seeing a man of a good mind, we find our selves as it were obliged to be civil to him; It's a consequence drawn from what appears to our eyes. Now 'tis not the Un∣derstanding which judgeth so, as M. C. will have it, it must needs therefore be the imagination. So that this example serves for nothing but to shew that Beasts perform aims, which the Understanding doth not contribute unto, because it excludes not the judgment of the imagination, but only that of the superior part which is not here in question.

The third is of a child which cries when the Nurse shews it a sour look, without judging thereby that she is in an ill humor, and threatens it; its sufficient that the gesture is extraordinary, and that all that is ex∣traordinary astonisheth the imagination, and angers it. But it is not sufficient thus crudely and indigently to

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advance things. He should prove that this Childe makes no judgment; for I hold absolutely the con∣trary; For that he cannot cry without resenting the motion of some angry passion, and that passion ne∣ver forms it self but the soul must have the know∣ledge of the object which excites it, whether it be true, or whether she imagine it to be so; and in pur∣suit that she doth not the actions with the circum∣stances, we have observed in several places of the third part of this Work, which she can never do without reasoning, as we have shewed in those pla∣ces; and therefore it must needs be that the child which cries must not onely make judgment, but also must needs reason. For although M.C. says, That it's sufficient if the Nurses gesture be extraordinary to this child, and that all what is extraordinary asto∣nisheth the imagination, and angers it; I shall confess although this require a restriction, there being many things which are extraordinary to children which anger them not. But this is to fall again on the same difficulty, because there extraordinary things anger not the imagination, but that she must make a Ratiocination, as elsewhere we have declared.

And this Answer ought to serve to what he hath added, p. 171. That the Passions are contagious; than there need but one sad person in a company to make them all of the same humor; and that as joy makes a man sing and dance without design, so also singing and dancing makes a man rejoyce. For says he, that all these things are done without discourse, and without Ratioci∣nation that all troublesom or pleasing objects move the Appetite without the intention of Reason; and that it's so that we make little children laugh when they

laugh; that sighings and groanings, and even musical tunes make such an impression on our minds; that to conclude, we make children, and even men themselves turn their heads when they are called, before those have the use of reason, or those the time to reason, and often even against their intention. All this I say is on∣ly to be understood or the superior and intellectual Reason, and doth not enclude that which the imagi∣nation may and ought to form in these encounters. Wherefore all the consequences he draws from thence, & which he applies to the actions of Beasts, are vain, and concern not the difficulty in hand.

I leave what he saith, pag. 173. That there is no likelihood that Beasts should not move themselves un∣less by the force of Syllogisms; and before they should be drawn by a voice, they must make at least twenty five Ratiocinations. For besides that his calculati∣on is not very just, we have answered to these kind of objections in several places of this work, and prin∣cipally in the third Chapter of the third Part. And as for what he maintains, That there follows no in∣convenience to say, That this mutual intelligence which is to be found in Animals of the same Species, proceeds altogether from the Instinct: We consent thereunto, so as he will but be better instructed con∣cerning the nature of the Instinct then he is, and re∣member himself of what we lately said. That In∣stinct hinders not but that actions might be done with knowledge, and that the Animal is not the principal and immediate cause thereof.

Let's conclude with that fair Observation M.C. hath made p. 173. upon what I have said, That he that should well mind the language of Birds, would

make no difficulty to beleeve that Tyresias, Melam∣pus, and Apollonius hath formerly understood it. For he hath unlinked this observation out of its place, that he might take the liberty to make on it the longer a censure, and hath placed it at the end of his Chapter, as a Morrer-peece of his munition, and of his address. And truly I confess, that he is not ignorant in Fables, and that he very well knows the adventures of Tyresias, and the genealogy of Melampus. And I also profess he makes as ill use of the Artifice of an Orator, who seeks to render odious or ridiculous what is proposed by his Ad∣versary. For who is there, who knowing that I speak of Tyresias and Melampus, which are names onely to be found in the Fable, as M. C. assures us, would not with him say, That a cause hath very great need of help, when it makes use of such base authorities?

But to defend my self from his Artifice, and to disabuse those he might have perswaded, I have no∣thing else to say, but that although I have spoken of Tyresias, of Melampus, and Apollonius, I have not made use of their authority, neither did I as∣sure that what was spoken of them was false or true. It was also a thing which to me ought to be indifferent, and what-ever it were, I might reason∣ably say that who would well observe the language of Birds, would make no difficulty to beleeve that they had formerly understood it. There are but few things in Fables, whence as much may not be said, when a truth is discovered which hath relation to it. Why may we not say after the experiences we have seen in our time, some Girls that have

changed Sex, that there were no difficulty to believe what the Poets have related of Iphis? Yet its a name to be found only in the Fable, no more then that of Tyresias. And no man will say that in this encounter we use the authority of Poets, and the example of Iphis to prove that this change may be done natu∣rally, since on the contrary it's the experience we bring which gives a likelihood to what they have said. So far from it is from it that my cause should need so idle an authority, and the example of Ty∣resias and Melampus which are onely to be found in Poets, that its that which authoriseth them, and which of fabulous which they were, renders them credible; and any equitable person may judge, that its a consequence which I draw from the truths which I have established, and not as M. C. says, that its a proof and an authority with which I would maintain them.

This is all I had to say on the third Objection which was made against the reason of Animals. There remains yet one of the Instinct, which should terminate this discourse; But indeed it deserves an intire Volume, and there are so many things to be examined, and there are so many things which rob me of the time I need; that being not able so readi∣ly to put my last hand to it, I thought that M C. might no longer languish in the expectation he had I ought to divide my answer, and give him that which concerns the Raciotinacion of Beasts, till I could end that of the Instinct. And indeed had it been ready, it would have troubled my conscience to have afflicted M C. with the sight of so great a Volume. Nay, even I should have had the same

apprehension to have kept off our Judges by the length of our indifference, and with so great a number of pieces which were to be examined. Af∣ter all, the retrenchment I make of that part of our contest will not wrong this which I now present. For were it true, that Beasts did not reason in those actions which they do by Instinct, there are several others enough in which Instinct hath no share, which evidently make it appear that they reason, as those acts which they do out of custom by instructi∣on, and generally all those which they do with knowledge. So the proof of their Ratiocination remains all intire, although we speak not of the In∣stinct, and what ever might be said of it.

FINIS.