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.

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.

Notes

• In his quae sunt penitus de∣terminata ad unum electio locum non ha∣bet. d. Th. 1, 2. q. 13. ar. 2.