FIVE PHILOSOPHICAL QUESTIONS, Moſt eloquently and ſubſtantially Diſputed:
VIZ:
LONDON, Printed for George Badger, and are to be ſold at his ſhop in S. Dunſtans Church-yard in Fleetſtreet. 1650.
THe deſire to learne is naturall, and no leſſe pleaſing to the minde of man, than his deſire of getting: and indeed, it is one kinde of getting: and as men receive more contentment in one new purchaſe, than in often thinking on all thoſe which they had made before; ſo our underſtanding takes a great deale more pleaſure in feeding upon new nouriſhment, than in chewing the cud upon that which it had already: yea, and among thoſe new repaſts, if it light upon any which it never taſted before, it receives it, as our palate is wont to doe, with ſo much the more pleaſure: for nature is more pleaſed with the change, than with the continuation of the uſe of any thing: the reaſon is, becauſe ſeeking the ſupreme good, and not finding it in any of thoſe things which ſhe hath yet made triall of, ſhe alwayes hopes to finde it elſewhere. This ſweetneſſe, is that which allayes the bitterneſſe of learning to children, who are raviſhed with the pleaſure of learning all thoſe Hiſtories and Pedanticall conceits, which we can ſo hardly endure when we are growne to more age. It may be, it makes old men ſo melancholick, becauſe you can hardly tell them any thing that they know not, and therefore mens talke is tedious to them: whereas ignorant youth admires and takes pleaſure in every thing. And wee are ſo delighted2 with novelty, that there is no beaſt ſo ill-favoured, which ſeemes not pretty when it is young, witneſſe the Aſſes foale; nor no plant of ſo little delight, as that novelty cannot commend it, as we ſee in the Hop and the Primroſe. But I diſtinguiſh Novelty into Phyſicall or Naturall, Morall and Artificiall. The firſt of theſe is in new productions, whether of ſubſtances, or accidents, as of diſeaſes unknowne to the Ancients. The ſecond of new and unuſuall actions. The third of Inventions. According to which diſtinction, we may ſtate this queſtion, and that in my opinion, muſt be done thus: There are no new ſubſtantiall productions, Nature having diſplayed all her forces almoſt theſe ſix thouſand yeares (according to true account, and much more, if wee beleeve the Egyptians and Chinois) and having runne through all imaginable varieties of ſpecies, by the divers combinations of all her matters; and alſo through all mixtures of qualities and other accidents: which makes it impoſſible to ſhew any diſeaſe that is new and unknowne to the foregoing ages. But for actions it is another caſe; their number cannot be determined, becauſe they depend upon the liberty of man, which could be no longer liberty, if our Will were not free to paſſe ſome ſet number. Much leſſe can Inventions be ſaid to be determinate and reducible to a certaine number, becauſe they depend in their productions, upon the wit of man, which is infinite in its duration, and in its conceptions, which cannot be bounded, no not by that Vacuum which ſome have imagined on the further ſide of the Heavens. Of which all our inventions are proofes ſufficient.
The ſecond ſaid, that this exception is unneceſſary, there being nothing at all new in any of thoſe fore-named claſſes, according to the teſtimony of him that was beſt able to judge, as being the wiſeſt, and who had made the3 moſt experiments; I meane Solomon, who boldly pronounces of his owne times, that there was not then, nor ſhould ever be any new thing. How much more then is it true in our time, being ſo many yeeres after him? For, to begin with the formae ſubſtantiales, as they call them, there is not one of that ſort new, not onely in its ſpecies, but even in its individuall qualities, which, indeed, appeare new to our ſenſes, but yet are not ſo for all that: as the ſhape of a Marble Statue was in the ſtone not onely in poſſibility, but alſo in act, before the Graver made it appeare to our eyes, by taking away that which was ſuperfluous, and hindered us from ſeeing it. And if wee beleeve, that we have ſo good a horſe that his like was never found, it is not becauſe it is ſo, but becauſe it ſeemes ſo; other horſes, as good or better than that, never comming to our hands. Much leſſe likely is it that new diſeaſes ſhould be produced, as ſome have beleeved, imagining that the Ancients were not curious enough to deſcribe all thoſe of their times, or their Succeſſors diligent enough to examine their writings to finde them there. As for humane actions, doe we ſee any now-adaies, that have not beene practiſed in times paſt, whether good or bad, valiant or cowardly, in counſell or in execution? And that which they call Invention i, s for the moſt part, nothing but a ſimple imitation in deeds or words. Thus, Printing, and Guns, which wee beleeve were invented within theſe two or three hundred yeares, are found to have beene in uſe among the Chineſes above twelve hundred years. So ſaith Terence of ſpeech, Nihil eſt jam dictum quod non dictum ſit prius. Our very thoughts, though they be innumerable, yet, if they were regiſtred, would be all found ancient.
The third ſaid, That Nature is ſo much pleaſed with diverſity, which is nothing elſe but a kind of novelty, that4 ſhe hath imprinted a deſire of it in all things here below, and, it may be, in things above alſo: for they are pleaſed in their work, and the ſupreme and univerſall Cauſes produce us theſe novelties. Thus the different periods of the heavens make new aſpects, and new influences, not only every yeare, but alſo every moneth, every day, yea, every moment. The Moone, every quarter, ſhewes a ſeverall ſort of face; and particularly, when ſhe ſends all her light toward the Sun, ſhe is called New. The Sun at his riſing is new, and ſo he appeares unceſſantly to ſome Countrey or other in the world; in each of which he makes new ſeaſons; and amongſt the reſt, Spring, becauſe it is the moſt pleaſant time, is commonly called in France le Renouveau, becauſe it renewes all things: the aire decking it ſelfe with a more cheerfull light, the trees cloathing themſelves with leafes, the earth with greenneſſe, the medowes being enamelled and imbroidered with new flowers. The young man that feeles the downe upon his chin, acknowledgeth his moſſy beard to be new: upon his wedding day he is a new-married man: it is a pretty new caſe to his Bride to finde her ſelf made a woman: her great belly and lying-in, are alſo novelties to her: the little infant then borne, is a new fruit: his firſt ſucking is new, his teeth at firſt comming, are new. And ſo are all other conditions of Clarkſhip and Prieſthood, and Widowhood, and almoſt infinite others. Yea, many things that ſeeme not at all to be new, yet are ſo; as a River ſeemes very ancient, and yet it renewes it ſelfe every moment ▪ ſo that the water that now runs under the Bridge, is not that which was there yeſterday, but ſtill keeps the ſame name, though it be altogether other indeed. We our ſelves are renewed from time to time by our nouriſhments continuall reſtauration of our waſted triple ſubſtance. Nor can any man doubt but that there5 are new Diſeaſes, ſeeing nothing is written of them in the bookes of the Ancients, nor of the remedies to cure them, and that the various mixtures of the qualities which produce them, may be in a manner innumerable; and that both ſorts of Pox were unknowne to the Ancients. But this novelty appeares yet better in mens actions, and divers events in them, which are therefore particularly called Newes. Such are the relations of Battailes, Sieges, takings of Townes, and other accidents of life, ſo much the more conſiderable, by how much they are ordinarily leſſe regarded. It were alſo too much injuſtice to goe about to deprive all Inventors of the honour due to them, maintaining that they have taught us no new thing. Doe not the Sectaries and Hereſiarchs make new Religions? Moreover, who will make any queſtion, whether we have not reaſon to aske what new things Affrick affords nowadayes, it having beene ſo fertile in Monſters, which are bodies entirely new, as being produced againſt the lawes of Nature. And when the King calls downe money, changeth the price of it, determines its weight, is not this a new ordinance? In ſhort, this is to goe about to pervert not onely the ſignification of words, but alſo common ſenſe, in maintaining that there is nothing new: and it had not beene amiſſe if the Regent, which printed ſuch Paradoxes in a youthfull humour, had never beene ſerved with new-laid eggs, nor changed his old cloathes, and if he had complained, anſwer might have beene made, That there is nothing new.
The fourth ſaid, that there are no new ſubſtances, and, by conſequence, no new ſubſtantiall formes, but onely accidentall ones; ſeeing Nothing is made of Nothing, or returnes to Nothing; and in all the other Claſſes of things, there are no new ſpecies, but onely new individuals,6 to which Monſters are to be referred. Yea, the myſteries of our Salvation were alwayes in intellectu Divino. Which made our Saviour ſay, that Abraham had ſeene him. And as for Arts and Inventions, they flouriſhed in one Eſtate, whilſt they were unknowne in another, where they ſhould appeare afterward in their time. And this is the ſenſe wherein it is true, that, There is nothing new.
THe life of man is intermingled with ſo many accidents, that it is not eaſie to foreſee them; and though our prudence could doe that, yet it belongs to the Inventive faculty to provide for them; without which, the Judgement remàines idle. Even as a Judge cannot give ſentence till the Advocates or Proctors have let him underſtand the arguments and concluſions of both parties, that he may know to whether ſide he ought to incline; which, in us, is the office of the Wit or Invention to doe: Without which alſo Courage is but a brutiſh fury, which inconſiderately throwes us headlong into danger, and ſo loſes its name, and is called foole-hardineſſe. It is the good wit that enables us to doe and ſay things in the inſtant, when there is need of them, without which they are unſeaſonable; like the Trojans Embaſſage ſent to the Roman Emperour to comfort him for the loſſe of his ſonne, who died a yeare before they came; and therefore he requited their kindneſſe with comforting them for the loſſe of Hector, their fellow Citizen, ſlaine by Achilles, in the time of the war between the Trojans and the Greeks (above 1200 yeares before.) It is the Wit that ſeaſons all the diſcourſes and actions of men, who make2 no other diſtinctions of good and evill, of wiſdome and folly; but by our ſpeaking, or doing things fit for every occaſion: which is the act of the Wit, and not of the Judgement or Courage, although in great and heroicall actions: all the vertues are to be found inſeparably chained together; witneſſe all thoſe neat flaſhes of wit, witty ſpeeches, and replies made upon the ſudden, which have alwayes gotten their authours more honour & favour, than their premeditated words and actions, to which the Judgement contributes more largely than the other two. It is the Wit, that by its inventions, drew men from their caves, and the life of beaſts, to give them palaces, food, raiment, converſation, and in a word, all the commodities of life which we enjoy at this preſent. For the better deciding of this queſtion; ſuppoſe in one company, three men differently endued, the one having a good Wit, the ſecond a ripe Judgement, and the third a great Courage: This laſt man can beare with nothing; the judicious man will ſay nothing which he hath not firſt well pondered, he will rather hold his peace; and both of them may find much diverſion in the inventions of the ingenious man; who alſo, if they fall out, will finde a meanes to make them friends againe; whereas the judicious man would uſe ſo many circumſpections, that their quarrell would grow old, and be paſt the eſtate of accommodation wherein it was, when he began to ſeeke the meanes of agreement, whileſt the other being meerly couragious, would heare nothing to that purpoſe: But their ingenious companion will finde a remedy for all theſe difficulties, and will ſhew them the way by his owne example; none being harder to be reconciled, than thoſe which are not at all ingenious. In warre, the couragious, I grant, will run headlong into3 danger more readily: The judicious will delay an enterpriſe, oftentimes employing that time in conſultation, which ſhould have beene ſpent in execution: but the Engineir, like Archimedes, will defend a Towne all alone, or will ſet upon a Fort, and ſubdue it by the force of his inventions, better than a thouſand men could have done with handy ſtrokes. As we may ſee in ſtratagems, which have more ſucceſſe than open force, ſo that it is become a Proverbe, Cunning is better than Force. Antigonus having ſcattered many Bils of Proſcription, wherein he promiſed a great ſumme to him that ſhould kill Eumenes; many of the ſouldiers of Eumenes began to plot his death, till Eumenes, as ſoone as he heard of it, called his men together to thank them for their fidelity, telling them, that he having beene informed that ſome of his owne ſouldiers had a deſigne upon his perſon, thought good to ſcatter thoſe Bils under the name of Antigonus, that ſo he might diſcover thoſe which had the traiterous intent; but he thanked them, he found no ſuch villaines amongſt them. This ſtraine of Wit ſtopped the deſignes of his enemy, and made them unprofitable. In private buſineſſe, one puffe of wind upon the Sea, one warre hapning between two neighbouring eſtates, one change of ſome cuſtomes by land, have need of more Wit than of Judgement, or Courage, to ſave you harmleſſe from ſhipwrack and loſſe. In the Courts of Law, their Replies are pieces of Wit: Yea, Wit is of ſo great eſteem with every one, that all the perfections of the Soule are compriſed in this word. The French when they would expreſſe all that may be ſaid of man (beſide the comelineſſe and graces of his body) ſay onely he is homme d'eſprit. I therefore think, that the Inventive Wit ought to be preferred before Judgement, which is of no uſe, but onely in ſuch affaires as afford and require choice, as Courage is only for dangers.
The ſecond ſaid, In vaine have men Wit, if they want4 Judgement to guide it, as for the moſt part it comes to paſſe. So that ordinarily they are accounted oppoſites. Alſo fooles want not that ſharpneſſe of Wit, which ſerves for Invention; nay, rather both it and Courage are ſharpned and made more active by the heat of frenzie. But it is Judgement that they want, the loſſe of which makes them be called fooles. Which is obſerveable in the ſame company which was but now mentioned: Wherethe Engineire or ſharp-witted man, will talke of very fine things, but he poures them out like a torrent, and without diſcretion: whereas the Judicious man ſhall give better content than either of them, though he ſpeake fewer things of the buſineſſe in hand than they doe: But the Couragious man is apt to give diſtaſte, it being uſuall with ſuch to run beyond the bounds of that reſpect which other tempers are aſhamed not to uſe; for Judgement proceeds from a coldneſſe of temper, oppoſite to that heat which cauſeth promptneſſe of Wit, and Courage. In war, the Inventions and Courage aforeſaid, are alſo ordinarily not only unprofitable, but alſo hurtfull without Judgement: Which alſo in traffick, is the thing that directs the Merchant in his choice of the ſeverall deſignes which he propoſeth to himſelfe, and of the meanes to attaine his ends: without which deliberation nothing comes to a good end, neither in warre nor merchandize.
The third ſaid, that the moſt couragious doe alwayes give lawes to the reſt, and ſo cauſe themſelves to be eſteemed above them. For in the firſt place, if the company aforeſaid be of knowing men, before whom you are to ſpeak; Your invention and diſpoſition (the effects of wit and judgement) will ſtand you in no ſtead, if you have not the Courage to pronounce your Oration, as we ſee in the Oration which Cicero had penned for Milo. Nay, it is impoſſible to invent well, if you want Spirit, which gives life to all actions, which have the approbation of all men,5 whether at the Barre, or elſe-where, ſo that they call them Brave actions, and full of Spirit. And if Courage be of eſteeme in all actions, then in Warre it is eſteemed above all; and the Laws puniſhing cowardlineſſe, & not the defects of Wit or Judgement, do plainly ſhew, that they eſteem Courage more than either of the other.
The fourth ſaid, That thoſe which ſpeak in favour of Wit and Courage, employing their judgement in the choyce of the reaſons which they produce, do ſufficiently ſhew that judgement is above them, as being the cauſe that they are eſteemed. For, you know the Philoſophers maxime, the cauſe hath a greater portion of whatſoever it communicates to the effect, than the effect it ſelfe hath. Alſo the Judge is greater than the Advocates; to whom we may compare the Wit, becauſe it propoſes the means, and the Judgement makes choice of them; and as for Courage, if it be without Judgement, it deſerves not the name. Without Judgement, the inventions of the Wit are nothing but Caſtles in the aire, and empty phantaſies, like a ruined houſe without chambers, or any other requiſites. Such Wits for want of Judgement, dwell upon nothing, but alwayes skip from bough to bough, and from conceit to conceit; which for that cauſe are not ordinarily ſo profitable to their inventors, as to the judicious, who better know how to make uſe of them. In truth, you ſhall find moſt of the inventions in thoſe which have leaſt practice, their in experience making many things eaſie, which practice ſhews to be impoſſible, and therefore they never found entrance in the Phantaſie of a Practicioner. Alſo, there is more courage found in beaſts than in men; and in men we often ſee that the moſt couragious are not the moſt judicious, but according as the quick-ſilver fixes in them by age, ſo they grow leſſe and leſſe inventive and leſſe reſolute to expoſe themſelves to ſuch perils, as their fooliſh youth, and want of experience cauſed them to undervalue.
6And to ſay the truth, the Judicious man hath all the Wit and Courage that he ſhould have: for he that invents, or propoſes things contrary to a ſound Judgement, goes for a foole: but he that hath Judgement, cannot want Courage; for theſe two cannot ſtand together, to be judicious and yet not to forſee that Courage is neceſſary in dangers, for the avoyding and overcomming of them: So that he that ſaith a man is Judicious, preſuppoſeth Wit and Courage in him: but not on the contrary; there being many couragious, but neither judicious nor inventive; and more that have Wit without Judgement.
The fifth ſaid, that all our actions being compoſed, all the faculties contribute to them: and they muſt needs be faulty if they be not ſeaſoned with Wit, Judgement, and Courage: but if wee compare them together, the Wit is the moſt delectable, the Judgement moſt profitable, and the Courage is moſt eſteemed.
TRUTH is an affection or quality of ſpeech, agreeing with our thought or apprehenſion: Whence it followes, that to ſpeak the truth, it is ſufficient to ſpeak of things as wee think of them, whether wee have conceived of them aright or no. For which reaſon, they ſay in Latin, mentiri, eſt, contra mentem ire. Yet there are two ſorts of Truths; the one ſingle, which is the truth of the termes, as alſo there is an untruth of the termes, for there neither is, nor ever was any ſuch thing as a Chimaera: the other is compoſed truth, which is an indicative ſpeech, wherin wee affirme or deny ſomething of ſome other thing; which manner of ſpeech is only capable of truth or falſhood. For, truth properly taken, is when not only our diſcourſe agrees with the ſpecies which is in our underſtanding, but alſo when this ſpecies agrees with the thing ſpoken of. So that truth may bee called, the meaſure or agreement of any thing with the underſtanding, and of the underſtanding with the ſpeech concerning that thing. This truth may be againe divided according to the difference of its objects, into naturall, which treateth of the nature of every thing; and civill, which2 ſpeaketh only of the actions and cuſtomes of men. Theſe things being granted, I think that truth of it ſelfe begets no hatred; and therfore we need not ſeek the cauſe why it doth: but on the contrary, I ſay with Ariſtotle, that wee love truth, and that in ſuch a meaſure, that we like no falſhood but that which hath an appearance of truth; which wee call likely or probable: which makes the romants to be diſliked as ſoon as wee diſcover any impoſſibilities in them. And they that would amuſe little children with monſtrous tales, muſt yet ſo fit them to their little wit, as that they may beleeve them, and ſo think them true; which is eaſily done, becauſe of their want of experience. But, foraſmuch as the greater part of men is imperfect, ſo farre as they love to be prayſed, ſo farre do they hate thoſe that tell them the truth of their defects, which ordinarily carry blame with them. And becauſe the ſame reaſon that makes every one love his own praiſe, makes a man alſo take pleaſure in blaming of others, that he himſelfe may ſeem more perfect: Hence it comes, that diſpraiſe being very well liked by all ſave only him whom it concerns, who is very ſenſible of it; it was upon this ground that Terence ſaid that Truth begets hatred, eſpecially when it is oppoſed to flattery, and to complying with the humours of every man; which makes truth appeare ſo much the more auſtere: as a Countrey-man comming next after a Courtier, ſeems ſo much the arranter clowne; and all other contraries ſet neer together, make one another the more diſcernable.
The ſecond ſaid, that this proverb [Truth begets hatred] is not grounded upon truth; for, every man not only profeſſes it, but alſo gives teſtimony, that he is pleaſed with it. It is alſo the object of our underſtanding, which never reſts till it hath found it, ſeeking it with no leſſe earneſtneſſe than that wherewith the will ſeeks after goodneſſe. So that ſetting truth on the one ſide, known to be ſuch, and on the other ſide untruth, likewiſe known to be ſuch; it is as impoſſible3 for the underſtanding not to love the truth, as for the will not to incline to a known good. This love of truth is ſo remarkable in all perſons, that not only the Iudges, according to their duties and places, do uſe all poſſible diligence to finde out the truth of a fact; but alſo all thoſe which are not at all intereſſed in the buſineſſe, are notwithſtanding ſo much taken with it, that though their eares be extreamly tired with liſtening to the one party, yet they have not the power to refuſe audience to the other ſide that undertakes to diſcover falſhood in his adverſaries tale: and if the underſtanding do not conceive the truth, it never remaines any more ſatisfied than a hungry ſtomack would bee with painted meat. Wherefore, it belongs only to diſeaſed mindes to hate truth, as only to ſore eyes to turne from the light. Wherfore, as men do not determine of colours, taſtes, and other objects of the ſenſe by the judgement of indiſpoſed organs, nor ſay ſugar is bitter, becauſe the tongue in a fever, being filled with choler, judges ſo; even ſo ought we not to ſay, after the perverſe judgement of the vicious, that truth begets hatred; and by conſequence we are not to ſeek the cauſe of a thing which is not ſo.
The third ſaid, that whatſoever agrees to our nature, and is found in us all, cannot be called a diſeaſe, but rather the contrary. Now, not only the underſtanding and the inner ſenſes, but alſo all the outer ſenſes of man, taken in generall and in particular, are pleaſed with falſhood, and love to bee deceived: Whence it comes to paſſe, that of all the ſects of Philoſophers, there was never any ſect more eſteemed than thoſe which diſtruſted the abilities of our minde, and held themſelves in a continuall ſuſpence or uncertainty: nor was there ever any more ridiculous than thoſe that were moſt confident of their opinions. And becauſe the acknowledging that we cannot know truth, is a kinde of truth of which our underſtanding is uncapable; therefore did Democritus4 lodge truth in a pit; and others ſayd ſhe was flown to heaven: both expreſſions ſignifying, that ſhee is out of mens reach. Beſides, our underſtanding loves its liberty, no leſſe than our will loves it; and as the will ſhould no longer bee free, if it were neceſſarily carried to ſome object; whence proceeded ſo many differing opinions concerning the chiefeſt good? even ſo our underſtanding foreſeeing that if at once it ſhould know the truth, it muſt ceaſe to be free to turne from it; it therefore preferres likelihoods and probabilities: from whence ariſeth that pleaſure which wee take in diſputes and problematicall altercations. For which cauſe alſo the ſect of Pyrrhon is by moſt men eſteemed above all others. And the greateſt part of the Sciences and Arts have no foundation but upon the errours of our faculties: Logick, upon the weakneſſe of our underſtanding in diſcerning of truth; for the better diſguiſing of which, and ſo our greater pleaſure, Rhetorick or the Orators Art was invented, the end of which is not at all to ſpeak the truth, but to perſwade you to what it pleaſeth. Poeſy is the art of lying artificially, in feigning that which neither is, nor was, nor ever ſhall be; as picture, and eſpecially perſpective, endeavours only to deceive us. Even the moſt pleaſing Arts, as Cookery, the better they abuſe our taſte, and our other ſenſes, by their diſguiſes, the more are they eſteemed. Look into civill converſation, it is nothing but diſguiſement; and (not to ſpeak of the maxime of King Lewis the eleventh, to which he reſtrained all the Latin of his Succeſſor) the greateſt part of the civilities of our Courtiers, and Citizens too, reaches no further. And therefore wee need not wonder much, if the clownes that run contrary to the ordinary courſe of all other men, render themſelves odious to every one.
The fourth ſaid, that the underſtanding is pleaſed with doubts, as the wooers of Penelope loved to court her mayds,5 that is to ſay, becauſe they could not enjoy the miſtreſſe: Nor is there any that being hungry, and having put his hand to the platter, would like well to look on it, through a paire of ſpectacles of many faces, through which there would appeare ſo many diſhes, and in ſeverall places, that hee could not tell which was the right. Wherefore, it is certaine that we love truth ſo well, that no untruth can be welcome to us, unleſſe it be covered with the ornaments of truth; and all thoſe arts of diſguiſing ſhew what eſteeme we have of untruth, ſeeing it muſt be like truth that wee may like it. 'Tis true, that none but God being able to diſcerne this ſort of truth, which conſiſts in the agreeing of our thoughts with our words; and deceit being very frequent in this matter, civility and curteſie teacheth us rather to uſe words of complement than rude and ill polliſht language; the ruſticalneſſe of which is ordinarily excuſed by clownes with the name of truth, though truth be no more incompatible with good grace than pills are with leafe-gold, by which the one is taken in better part, and the other with leſſe paine to the ſick.
The fifth ſaid, that truth being the expreſſion of the ſpecies of ſomething, and we taking pleaſure to ſee a coppy well repreſenting its originall, it cannot beget hatred. Things of themſelves do not diſpleaſe us, at leaſt there are more that pleaſe than that diſpleaſe, and of theſe a good part is ſweetned by the manner of ſpeaking of them, as we ſee in jeſting; no man hindring us to ſpeak truth laughing, ſo that the denomination being not to be taken from the leſſer and the leſſe ſound part, truth cannot be ſaid to beget hatred. Alſo truth not being able to produce any thing but its like in an univocall generation, it muſt be an equivocall one when it begets hatred: the ignorant vulgar in this (as they do often in other caſes) taking that for a cauſe which is none. Otherwiſe the difficulty that we meet6 withall in ſeeking of truth, increaſes the love of it, and begets not hate of it. Which love is no leſſe univerſall than the hate of untruth, as may appeare by that ſtory of two Roman Citizens, one of which was baniſhed by a generall conſent, after it was known that he was ſo given to lying, that he had never been heard ſpeak truth; the other received great and publick honours, becauſe he had never been heard ſpeak any untruth, no not in jeſt. And we have nowadayes ſtore of examples of the bad entertainment which all lyars finde; which our ancient Gaules well knowing, did account it the utmoſt degree of offence, to give one the lie.
THe firſt man ſaid thus; The Germans going to the warrs, had reaſon to take a Cock with them to ſerve them for a ſpurre and an example of watchfulneſſe; whence came a cuſtome to this day uſed by the Mule-drivers; ſome of which tie a Cock upon their foremoſt carriage; and others that will not trouble themſelves with him, provide only a plume of his feathers. Upon the ſame ground Phidias made a ſtatue of Minerva bearing a Cock upon her helmet: unleſſe you will rather think his reaſon to be becauſe this Goddeſſe is as well preſident of warre as of ſtudy; both which have need of much vigilancy. Though this bird for other cauſes may be well enough ſaid to pertaine to her; as for his being ſo warlike and couragious, as that he will not part with his deſire of vanquiſhing, though it coſt him his life: And this deſire he proſecutes with ſuch fury, that Caelius Aurelian reports, that a man fell mad, having only been pecked by a Cock in the heat of his fighting. For the paſſion of choler being a ſhort madneſſe, is able exceedingly to raiſe the degree of heat in a temper already ſo extremely cholerick; that in time the body of a Cock becomes nitrous; and in this conſideration it is preſcribed to ſick perſons to make them laxative, and it is2 the better if hee were firſt well beaten, and plucked alive, and then boiled.
And this courage of the Cock moved Artaxerxes King of Perſia, when a ſouldier of Caria had ſlaine Prince Cyrus, to grant him leave to beare a little Cock of gold upon his Javelin, as a ſingular badge of his great valour. In imitation whereof, all the ſouldiers of the ſame Province fell to weare the like upon the creſts of their helmets; and were thence called Alectryons, that is in Latine, Galli, a name afterward given to our Nation, and it may be for the like reaſon.
The Cock is alſo the Hieroglyphick of victory, becauſe he crows when he hath beaten his adverſary; which gave occaſion to the Lacedaemonians to ſacrifice a Cock, when they had over come their enimies. He was alſo dedicated to Mars: and the Poets feigne that he was a young ſouldier, and placed for a ſentinell by this God of warre when he went to lie with Venus, but feared the returne of her husband: but this watchman ſleeping till after Sunriſing, Mars and ſhe were taken napping by Vulcan. Mars being very angry, transformed this ſleeper into a Cock, for his negligence: whence, ſay they, it comes to paſſe, that well remembring the cauſe of his transformation, he now gives warning when the Sun draws neere to our horizon. Which fable is as tolerable as that of the Alcoran, which attributes the crowing of our Cocks to one that, as hee ſaith, ſtands upon the firſt Heaven, and is of ſo immenſe a hugeneſſe, that his head toucheth the ſecond: which Cock crows ſo loud, that he awakens all the Cocks upon the earth, that immediately they fall a provoking one another to do the like; as if there were one and the ſame inſtant of Cock-crowing all over the face of the whole earth. The Cock was alſo dedicated to the Sun, to the Moon, and to the Goddeſſes Latona, Ceres•and Proſerpina;3 which was the cauſe that the novices or thoſe that were initiated in their myſteries, muſt not eat of a Cock. He was alſo dedicated to Mercury, becauſe vigilancy and earely riſing is neceſſary for merchants; and therefore they painted him in the forme of a man ſitting, having a creſt upon his head, with Eagles feet, and holding a Cock upon his fiſt. But particularly he was conſecrated to Eſculapius, which made Socrates at the point of death to will his friends to ſacrifice a Cock to him, becauſe his hemlock had wrought well. And Pyrrhus curing men of the Spleen, cauſed them to offer a white Cock; whereas Pythagoras forbade his followers to meddle with the life or nouriſhing of any of that calour.
The Inhabitants of Calecuth ſacrifice a Cock to their deity, whom they conceive in the ſhape of a he-goat; and Acoſta, out of Lucian, aſſures us, that anciently they worſhipped a Cock for a God: Which Chriſtianity not ſuffering, hath put them upon Churches, the ſpires of ſteeples, and high buildings, calling them weather-cocks, becauſe, as fanns, they ſhew the coaſt whence the winde comes; unleſſe you rather think they are ſet up in remembrance of St. Peters repentance at the ſecond crowing of a Cock.
The cauſe of his crowing is commonly attributed to his heat, which makes him rejoyce at the approach of the Sun, as being of his own temper; of which approach he is ſooner ſenſible than others; becauſe hee more eaſily than any other creature receives the impreſſions of the aire, as appears by that harſh voyce which he ſometimes uſeth in crowing when he hath been newly moiſtened by the vapours; and therefore the Countrey-men count it an ordinary ſigne of raine. And foraſmuch as the whole ſpecies of birds is more hot, dry, and light than the ſpecies of foure-footed beaſts; therefore the Lion, though4 he be a ſolar creature as well as the Cock; yet is ſo in a leſſer degree than he. Whence it comes to paſſe, that the Cock hath a pre-eminence over the Lion, which he underſtands not, till the crowing raiſe in his imagination ſome ſpecies which in him produce terror. Unleſſe you will ſay, that the ſpirits of the Cock are communicated to the Lion by meanes of this voyce; for that is a thing more materiate, and ſo more capable to act than the ſpirits which come out of ſore eyes, which nevertheleſſe do infect thoſe that are found if they look on them; nay, to ſpeak with the Poet, they do bewitch the very lambs.
The ſecond ſaid, we muſt reckon this error [of a Cock ſcaring a Lion by crowing] among divers other vulgar ones, of which oftentimes the chaires and pulpits ring, as if they were certaine truths, when in the triall they prove ſtark falſe. It may be ſome tame Lion growen cowardly by the manner of his breeding, hath been ſeen affrighted by the ſhrill ſound of ſome Cock crowing ſuddenly and neere to his eares; which will ſeem not unlikely to them that in the beginning of March laſt paſt were preſent at the intended combat in the Tennis-court at Rochel, between ſuch a Lion and a Bull; at the ſight of whom the Lion was ſo afraid, that he bolted thorow the nets, throwing down the ſpectators which were there placed in great number, as thinking it a place of greater ſecurity; and running thence, he hid himſelfe, and could by no meanes be made re-enter the liſts. Or it may be the novelty of this crowing ſurpriſed ſome Lion that never heard it before, as having alwayes lived far from any village or countrey houſe where poultry are bred; and thereupon, the Lion at this firſt motion, ſtartled.
It is alſo poſſible, and moſt likely too, that the ſtartle of choller (whereinto the Lion fals as ſoone as any thing diſpleaſes him) was miſtaken by ſome body for a ſigne of5 feare, whereas it was a token of his indignation. For I ſee no ſhew of reaſon to imagine in this generous beaſt a true and univerſall feare of ſo ſmall a matter as the voyce of a Cock, ſeeing that this likeneſſe of nature which is attributed to them, ſhould rather produce ſome ſympathy than any averſion; and yet this enmity (if any were, and that as great as between wolves and ſheep) ought no more to ſcare the Lion than the bleating of a ſheep affrights a wolfe. But the wolfe devoures the ſheep, and aſſimilates it to his own ſubſtance, rather for the good-will that he beares himſelfe than for any ill-will or hatred that he beares toward the ſheep. Beſides, we ordinarily ſee Cocks and Hens in the court-yards of the houſes where Lions are kept, which never make any ſhew of aſtoniſhment at their crowing. Nay, I remember I have ſeen a young Lion eat a Cock; 'tis true, he did not crow, any more than thoſe of Nibas a village neere to Theſſalonica in Macedon, where the Cocks never crow. But the Lion would have been content with tearing the cock in pieces, and not have eaten him if there had been ſuch an antipathy between them as ſome imagine. But this error finds entertainment for the moralls ſake which they inferre upon it, to ſhew us that the moſt hardy are not exempt from fear, which oftentimes ariſes whence it is leaſt looked for. So that to ask why the crowing of a Cock ſcares Lions, is to ſeek the cauſe of a thing that is not.
The third ſaid, we muſt not make ſo little account of the authority of our predeceſſors, as abſolutely to deny what they have averred, the proofe of which ſeems ſufficiently tried by the continued experience of ſo many ages: for to deny a truth, becauſe we know not the reaſon of it, is to imitate Alexander, which cut the Gordian knot, becauſe he could not unty it. It is better, in the nature of the Cock and his voyce, to ſeek a cauſe of the fright of the Lion, who being a creature always in a fever by his exceſſive cholerick diſtemper,6 of which his haire and his violence are tokens; great noiſe is to him as intollerable as to thoſe that are ſick and feveriſh, eſpecially thoſe in whom a cholerick humour enflamed ſtirrs up headach. Beſides, there are ſome kinds of ſound which ſome perſons cannot endure; and yet can give you no reaſon for it, but are conſtrained to flie to ſpecificall properties and antipathies, and ſuch we may conceive to be between the Cocks-crowing and a Lions eare, ſhith much more likelihood than that the Remora ſtaies veſſels under full ſaile; and a thouſand other effects impenetrable by our reaſon, but aſſured by our experience. Laſtly, this aſtoniſhment that the Cock puts the Lion into with his crowing, is not very unreaſonable. This king of beaſts having occaſion to wonder, how out of ſo ſmall a body ſhould iſſue a voyce ſo ſtrong, and which is heard ſo farre off, whereas himſelfe can make ſuch great ſlaughters with ſo little noiſe. Which amazement of the Lion is ſo much the greater, if the Cock bee white, becauſe this colour helps yet more to diſſipate his ſpirits, which were already ſcattered by the firſt motion of his apprehenſion.
GOod Antiquity was ſo deſirous to know the truth, that as often as naturall and ordinary proofes failed them, they had recourſe to ſupernaturall and extraordinary wayes. Such among the Jewes was the water of jealouſie, of which an Adultereſſe could not drink without diſcovering her guiltineſſe, it making her burſt. Such was the triall of the Sieve, in which the Veſtall Nun, not guilty of unchaſtity, as ſhe was accuſed to be, did carry water of Tiber without ſpilling any. Such were the oathes upon Saint Anthonies arme, of ſo great reverence, that it was beleeved that whoſoever was there perjured would within a yeare after bee burned with the fire of that Saint: and even in our times it is commonly reckoned, that none lives above a yeare after they have incurred the excommunication of Saint Geneviefve. And becauſe nothing is ſo hidden from juſtice as murder, they uſe not only torments of the body, but alſo the torture of the ſoule, to which its paſſions doe deliver it over: of which Feare diſcovering it ſelfe more than the reſt, the Judges have forgotten nothing that may ſerve to make the ſuſpected perſon fearefull; for beſides their interrogatories, confronting him with witneſſes, ſterne looks, and bringing before him the inſtruments of torture, as if they were ready to make him feele them; they have invented all other meanes to ſurpriſe his reſolution, and break his ſilence, eſpecially when they have found already ſome ſignes and conjectures. Wherefore they perſwade him that a carkaſſe bleeds in the preſence of the murtherers, becauſe dead bodies being removed doe often bleed, and then he whoſe conſcience is2 tainted with the Syntereſis of the fact, is troubled in ſuch ſort, that by his mouth or geſture he often bewrayes his owne guiltineſſe, as not having his firſt motions in his owne power. Now the cauſe of this flowing of the blood in the preſence of the guilty is this: After death the blood growes cold and thick, but after a few dayes it becomes thin again; as when we open a veine and receive our blood into Porrangers, if we let it ſtand in them, we may there ſee the like; the heat of the corruption ſupplying the roome of the naturall heat, which kept the blood liquid in the living body. So that if the carkaſſe be removed by the murderer, it is no wonder if it bleed. And becauſe the murther is hardly diſcovered by ſuſpitions, till after ſome dayes, about which time alſo this liquefaction of the blood happens, ſo that this accident is often found in the preſence of the murtherer: hence it comes to paſſe, that the one is counted the cauſe of the other. Although this cauſe and this effect be of the nature of thoſe things, which with ſmall reaſon are thought to depend one on the other, meerely becauſe they fall out at the ſame time; and becauſe this perſwaſion, though it be falſe, hath a reall effect in diſcovery of truth, therefore the Law-givers have authorized it, uſing the ſame care for the diſcovery of truth, that the guilty do to cover and hide it by their denials and divers ſleights. But we muſt take heed that we render no ſuch cauſe of this iſſuing of the blood, as may make it depend on the preſence of the murderer, as if it would not have happened without it.
The ſecond ſaid, that it is not credible that the Soveraign Courts which have practiſed this triall, and made good uſe of it, were ſo defective in the knowledge of naturall cauſes, as not to be able to diſcern the effuſion of blood, which comes by the putrefaction of it in the veines, (for they have a property to keep it from congelation) from the guſhing out of the ſame blood obſerved at the firſt approach of the guilty, and when he is brought to look on the body. It is therefore3 much better to ſeek the cauſe than to call in queſtion the effect, unleſſe we had better reaſon ſo to doe, than becauſe it ſeems too marvellous. Some have referred it to a magnetick or electricall vertue of the blood, ſaying, that quarrels ſeldome happen between perſons unknowne, but that the murtherer and the ſlaine having had acquaintance together, their bloods have gotten ſuch ſociety as to draw one another; and ſo the living mans blood being the more active, draws the blood out of the other. But as this attraction hath an imperceptible ſubtilty, ſo it is not eaſie to conceive it poſſible, if it be not helped by ſome meanes that may connect this effect to its cauſe. I like better the opinion of Levinus Lemnius, who preſuppoſeth that two enemies, intending one anothers death, do dart their ſpirits one at another; for they are the meſſengers of the ſoule, by which ſhe exerciſeth the ſight and all her other outward ſenſes. Now theſe ſpirits ſeeking the deſtruction of one another, and being made active by the ſting of choler, doe inſinuate and work themſelves into the oppoſite bodies, and finding an open entrance through ſome wound, they tend thither more notably than to any other paſſage, and there they mingle with the blood of the wounded, and hee ſhortly after dying, they there ſettle themſelves and abide with his ſpirits, till the murderer afterwards again approaching to the dead body, the ſpirits, which were all this while ſeparated from their totall, do take this occaſion to rerurn and rejoyne themſelves (as all things are deſirous to returne to their own beginnings:) But this they cannot do without clearing and ſeparating themſelves from that maſſe of blood wherein they lay confuſed; and therefore they trouble this maſſe, and ſo cauſe an effuſion of that blood, which till then was retained in the veines. Which is helped not a little by that confuſion whereinto we bring the murderer, by laying before him the body by him murthered: for hereupon his ſpirits, forſaking their Center and wandring, do meet with their fellowes, as the Lode-ſtone and Iron meeting one another halfe way.
4The third man was of the opinion of Campanella, who attributes the cauſe of this bleeding to the ſenſe which is in all things, and which continues in dead bodies; ſo that having a perception of their murderers, and perceiving them neere them, they ſuffer two very different motions of trembling and anger, which ſhake the body and remove the blood in the veines violently enough to make it iſſue at the gaps of their wounds. For the ſpirits, which during life had knowledge enough to make them perceive and obey the commands of the ſoule, retaine it even after death ſo farre, as to be able to diſcerne their friends and their enemies. And as at the time of our birth all the objects which are preſent, do imprint in us their qualities in that univerſall change which is made at that moment, as Aſtrologers ſpeak; [whence comes that important choyce which they preſcribe us to make of mid-wives and goſſips, that is (if we conſider the matter more neerly) of the perſons which are to be about the child-wife] ſo when we die and quit our naturall qualities to borrow new ones from the bodies about us, we get a conformity with all thoſe which are neere us, and with the murtherer more than with any other.
The fourth ſaid, this opinion could not be true; for then it would follow, that hee which had killed ſome man by the ſhot of an Arquebuz, could not be knowne by the ſigne; and that if a man were killed in the armes of his wife, and amidſt his friends which had defended him, ſuch a one would rather bleed in the preſence of his friends than of the murtherer, whoſe ſpirits are ordinarily kept in by the guilt of his conſcience and the apprehenſion of puniſhment; whereas his friends being animated with anger, do call forth all their ſpirits to a neceſſary defence. Beſides, if the murtherer, now brought neere the carkaſſe, have alſo beene wounded in this encounter, he ſhould rather bleed than the dead man, becauſe his blood is more boyling and muſt have received many of the ſpirits which did all leave the ſlaine man at his death, being evaporated thence upon the bodies which were round about5 him: For they iſſue out of the wounds of a dying man together with his blood, and that ſo violently, that they will not permit at the ſame time a motion contrary to theirs, and ſo cannot admit any entrance for the ſpirits of the murtherer; which if they ſhould enter, would there acquire a Sympathy with the dead body, in whoſe blood they would tongeale, and loſe the Sympathy that they had with the body out of which they came. Even as no man retaines the ſpirits of that creature whoſe blood or heart he eates, but he thereof formes his owne ſpirits. Nay, if they did retaine this Sympathy, yet could they not know the murderer, for want of ſenſes, which they never had; becauſe the ſpirits which are in the blood, hardly merit that name, being purely naturall and deſtitute of all perception, and that in our life time, as being common to us with plants, and ſpecifically differing from animall ſpirits, as might bee ſhown by the different actions wherein nature employes them. In the next degree above theſe naturall ones are the vitall ſpirits, which vaniſh with the life which they conſerved, ſo that then the arteries which contained them become empty. And laſtly, thoſe that were ſenſitive cannot remain in a dead man, becauſe they are eaſily diſſipated and have need of continual reparation, as we ſee in ſwoonings, the ſenſes ſaile as ſoone as the heart ceaſeth to furniſh them with matter to uphold the continuity of their generation: Or if they did remaine in the body after death, they could performe no action for want of neceſſary diſpoſures in their organs, as we ſee in thoſe that are blinde, deaſe, paralytick and others. But becauſe the refutation of the reaſons given of this effect is a thing very eaſie, and may be done in many other ſubjects: It is better to ſhew that this bleeding cannot come from any naturall cauſe, no not of ſuch as are unknown to us; which is eaſily done, if we preſuppoſe that all naturall cauſes are neceſſary and do act without liberty at all times when their objects are preſented to them: Which falls not out ſo heere, for it hath oftentimes beene ſeene, that murtherers, for feare of being6 accuſed of murder, have made more and neerer approaches round about the dead body than any other, which hath beene uſed as a preſumption againſt them, though the body did not bleed in their preſence; and oftentimes nurſes overlie their children, which notwithſtanding bleed not after death, though they hold them in their armes, as a ſigne of their great affection and innocence. And had this ſigne been naturall, Salomon, that was very skilfull in nature, would have uſed this rather than a morall triall, wherein was much leſſe certainty; nor would Moſes have forgotten it. Beſides, we ſee every day the executioners come to take from the gallows or the wheel, thoſe perſons whom the day before they executed with their owne hands, out of whoſe wounds comes not a drop of blood, although all the cauſes of ſuch bleeding doe concurre in this example, and ought to produce their effect, unleſſe you think they were hindered by ſome morall reaſon, as the conſideration that this execution was by the order of juſtice. But then beaſts, being uncapable of this conſideration, and having none of this wiſedome, ſhould bleed in the preſence of thoſe butchers which are not very exact in their trade, with which the Jewes doe every day upbraid them. And ſuch as have killed Hares and Partridges, ſhould cauſe their bodies to bleed when they come neere them. Moreover, they which have beene ſet upon by ſome aſſaſin, finde it not alwayes eaſie to know him againe when they ſee him, though they be in perfect health, and awake: much leſſe can a man that is aſleep, or very neere death, by any ſigne diſcover the approching aſſaſin that mortally wounded him: and yet it is hard to imagine that we have leſſe perception and knowledge during the remainders of our life, than after our death; and that a wounded man muſt die that he may become more ſenſible. Laſtly, it is eaſie to make it appeare, that it is not in this effect as in other marvels, which have a naturall cauſe, becauſe though many effects are ſo hidden from us, that wee are not able to aſſigne their particular cauſes, yet they may be all proved by7 ſome reaſons, if not demonſtrative, yet at leaſt probable: even the magneticall cure, by ſympathy and antipathy, which are the onely principles of all naturall motions: Which motions are but of two ſorts, that is to ſay, Approach and Remotion; it being naturall to all bodies to joine themſelves to their like, and to fly from the objects from which they have ſome naturall averſeneſſe. And indeed, if the blood iſſued naturally, it would be to joyne it ſelfe with blood of the ſame nature, as the blood of the dead mans kindred: for ſympathy is onely betweene bodies joined in amity. Nor can antipathy produce this effect, for it is not its property to joine and bring-neerer-together two bodies which are enemies; but on the contrary, in the preſence of the murtherer it ſhould concentrate all the blood, and cauſe it to retire to the inner parts. And theſe are the grounds which perſwade me not only that the cauſes of this miracle are not yet found, but alſo that it is impoſſible that it ſhould have any that is naturall.
The fifth ſaid, that this bleeding may be cauſed by the imagination, if, according to the opinion of Avicenna, it doth act even out of its owne ſubject; the phantaſie of the guilty, with the remembrance of the blood ſpilt by him in the killing of the dead there lying before his eyes, which ſtirres all his powers, may be able to cauſe this haemorrhagie or iſſuing of blood. Some nitrous vapours alſo of the earth may help this ebullition of the blood in the carkaſſe, when it is taken up out of the earth; or the water, having inſinuated it ſelfe into the veines of a drowned carkaſſe, may make the blood more fluid. Hereunto alſo the aire may contribute by its heat, which is greater than that of the earth or water, and is increaſed by the concourſe of the multitudes which uſe to run to ſuch ſpectacles. Alſo the fermentation which after death happens to the blood, ſerves very much to this heat, which makes it boile in the veines, as ſyrups in the time of their ſermentation boile and fill up the veſſels, which before were not full, till at length they make them run over at8 the top: in the ſame manner, the blood which before did not fill the veines, yet after it is fermented, doth ſo puffe them up, that they can no longer hold it all; and having withall gotten a tarmeſſe which corrodes the orifices of the veſſels, it makes its way out ſome dayes after death, as we ſee in the bodies reſerved for anatomies, where the rope having cauſed the blood to riſe to the braine, where it could not be contained, it runs out at the noſe. Alſo the ſympathy of the ſpirits once friendly, and afterward become enemies, may help toward this effect; which ſhould not be thought more ſtrange than many other like motions; as the paine felt by the Nurſe in her breaſts, when her nurſe-child cries; the fury which the red colour ſtirres up in the Lion and the Turky-cock; the falling-ſickneſſe, whoſe fits are augmented or advanced in thoſe that hold in their hand the plant called Virga ſanguinea, or a twig of the Cornill tree; a kind of Jaſper ſtayes bleeding by a contrary reaſon; Lapis Nephriticus makes the gravell come out of the kidneyes; the Weapon-ſalve cures a wound, being applied to the ſword which made it, 100. leagues off: and many other Taliſmanick effects, of which we do no more ſee their connection with their cauſes, than of this of the ſpirits of the murtherer and the murthered; which notwithſtanding are no leſſe effectuall in this occurrence, than the ſpirits which come out of a bleare eye, are able to hurt the eye that lookes on it; or the eyes of a Witch to bewitch lambs, and to produce all other marvellous effects, whereof their hiſtories are full.
The ſixth ſaid, It would be hard to perſwade moſt men that there is ſenſe in all lifeleſſe bodies, much more, that there remaines any after death; becauſe ſenſe is given to all bodies for no other cauſe, but to enable them to diſcerne their objects, to carry them toward their likes, and to make them fly from ſubjects worthy of their eſchewing. Which cannot be ſaid of dead bodies, for whom nature hath no longer any care or providence. So that ſhe which doth nothing in vaine, and9 gives not to bodies, qualities of which they have no uſe, hath not taken care to put into, or preſerve in carkaſſes, a paſſion which might ſerve to uphold them in that eſtate. For that were againſt the intention of Nature her ſelfe, who ſtrives to ruine ſuch bodies, and to reſolve them into their elements, to the end that thereof ſhe may make new mixts, and ſo augment ſome of her ſpecies. But if we grant Campanella, that dead bodies have ſome remainder of ſenſe, yet will it not thereupon follow, that they have enough of it to cauſe the motions of trembling and anger, to which he attributes this bleeding; for anger requires too many ſorts of reciprocall motions, and too much mixt to be compatible with the cold which freezeth the ſpirits of dead bodies, whatſoever the Hiſtorians ſay to the contrary; for they write, that anger might be ſeene in the ſterne viſages of divers men ſlaine in battaile, which hath no likelihood of truth. And foraſmuch as plants (which, according to the opinion of this author) have a greater meaſure of ſenſe than carkaſſes have, witneſſe the attractions and expulſions which they make; yet are not at all capaple of anger: and having ſeene ſome men ſo ſtupid, as to be diſpleaſed with nothing in their life time, I cannot beleeve that they become more ſenſible after their death. Such bodies are then paſt trembling either for apprehenſion or memory, both which are fled away with their life, and they are in an eſtate of having no further apprehenſion of their murderers: And if they would tremble for feare, it were time for them ſo to do at the approach of the Anatomiſts, who without all pity pull them in as many pieces as they can imagine any way to differ from one another; and beſides, feare would not make the blood to iſſue, foraſmuch as this paſſion is not cauſed but by the concentration of the ſpirits, and their abandoning of the outer-parts that they may retire inward.
Another unlikely conſequent is, that theſe ſpirits ſeparated from the ſoule ſhould be more able to diſcern the murderer than when they were joyned to it, for a living man is not able10 to know him that hurt him in the night, or as a high-way-robber with a vizor and ſilence preventing all diſcovery of him by his face or voyce. Furthermore, the ſpirits are of the nature of the Sun-beams, which give heat and light ſo long as they are continued from the body of the Sun to the object on which they fall; but the Sun is no ſooner hidden but that the beames ceaſe to be. Even ſo, as long as the rete admirabile of the brain (which is the ſpring and forge of the animall ſpirits, which are only capable of knowledge) does continue an influence of ſpirits into the nerves, and through them into the other organs of the ſenſe; ſo long are they able to diſcern and no longer, though they could ſubſiſt longer. So that this opinion cannot ſtand, no, not with the opinion of the Pagan Philoſophers, who teach that the ſoule after death quits not the body, but only the operations of the inward and outward ſenſes: the ceaſing of the actions whereof the ſpirits are inſtruments, being ſufficient to ſhew that the ſpirits themſelves are ceaſed.
The ſeventh ſaid, that this extraordinary motion cannot be referred but to a light ſupernaturally ſent from God to the Judges, for the diſcovery of the blackeſt crimes, which otherwiſe would eſcape unpuniſhed: which is alſo the cauſe why this miracle, though it ſometimes happen, yet is not alwayes obſervable as the effects of naturall cauſes, which are neceſſary and thereby are diſtinguiſhed from contingents: it being no leſſe impiety to deny that the divine juſtice doth ſometimes ſend ſuccour to the juſtice of men, than it is ignorant ruſticity, in all things to content our ſelves with univerſall cauſes, without ſeeking the particular ones, which indeed God commonly employes for the producing of effects; but yet hath not ſo enchained his power to the neceſſity of their order, as that hecannot break it when he pleaſeth, even to the giving unto moyſtened clay a vertue to reſtore ſight to the eyes of one borne blinde.
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