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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.

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

To the READER.

THis Diſcourſe is it ſelf an Apo­logy, and needs no other. It witneſſeth the Author ſuffici­ently learned to vindicate himſelf from the extravagan­cy of thoſe who may think him guilty; nei­ther do I doubt but thoſe who read him with judgement, will rather ſubmit then conteſt thoſe Truths, which he advanceth, and can­not but yeeld even to the probability of his Paradoxes; for he treats of all, like the Coun­ſellor and Doctor of a King (whereto his great deſerts have raiſed him) or rather like a King amongſt Philoſophers, in a word like himſelf. He divides the orders of Nature; he counſels and inſtructs men, and makes even Beaſts Reaſon. Look but upon his grand De­ſign and he appears more eminent then any of our modern Philoſophers. I mean that Art of his, To know Men, which he hath long ſince promiſed the world; In the firſt Part whereof he hath deſigned the characters of the Paſſions (of which two excellent Books are extant) of Vertues and of Vices; And in the ſecond Part he intends a diſcovery of the nature of Animals, and from the reſemblance betwixt Men and Beaſts to teach us, that thoſe whoſe parts are like theirs, have the ſame inclinations. Amongſt his Preliminaries he hath brought to light a Diſcourſe of the Knowledge of Beaſts, which although it had the general approbation of the moſt learned, yet having met with the oppoſition of a bold Adverſary, our Author thought himſelf obli­ged to vindicate by this diſcourſe of his, which contains the ſum of that, and by which he refutes all the cavils and objections of his An­tagoniſt. So that if any man after the peruſal thereof be ſtartled or offended, that he hath granted Reaſon to Beaſts, give me leave to beleeve it muſt be either out of ignorance or pride. That it deſtroys the immortality of the ſoul, and the eſſential difference of man, is what they object. I know how dangerous it is to ſpeak phyſically of the nature of Souls; neither am I ignorant of the opinion of the Galeniſts, nor of the hereſie of the Manichees; yet I know alſo that many great men have endeavored by the light of Nature to prove the Soul of man immortal. Neither hath any of them a more peculiar Argument then our Author who from the immateriality of the not ſimply but intellectually reaſonable ſoul, concludes that naturally having no principles of corruption, it muſt neceſſarily be immor­tal. So far is he from ſhaking, that he ſtrong­ly confirms that immortal principle. As for thoſe who apprehend the loſs of that eſſen­tial difference which they pretend betwixt themſelves and Beaſts, let them examine the matter, and the difference will appear, but ſtill the more manifeſt. The reaſon he allows them is limited to corporeal objects, to the neceſſities of life, food and ſhelter; its only direct; Its capable only of ſingulars, its re­ſtrained to an opinative faculty; its a meer ſhadow of ours, much like that of our phan­taſie when we ſleep. So that they will have all the reaſon in the world to believe, that this opinion raiſeth the Reaſon of Man to make the difference really eſſential to an In­tellectual Faculty which tends to the nature of divine things, and declares the ſoul poten­tially to be a Spirit; ſo that what we call In­telligence in Angels, we may juſtly call In­tellectual Reaſon in men; which as it is in­ferior to that, ſo it is ſuperior to that of Beaſts which is ſenſual and corporeal, whilſt his is al­together ſpiritual. Theſe two main objecti­ons being anſwered, it remains onely, that we ſhould by authority vindicate it from novelty. Tireſias, Melampus, and Apollonius are ſaid to have underſtood their very language. Plato tells us that in the golden age men reaped all their knowledge from communication with them. And although the Scripture tell us of ſome Beaſts that have no underſtanding, yet it ſends us for inſtruction to others. And Philoſophy acknowledgeth to have learned from them many of her Arts and Sciences; they have inſtructed us in Phyſick, even in morality, nay they have taught us piety. Por­phyrius, Plutarch, Raymondus, Sebondus, for whom alſo Montaign in his Eſſays hath writ­ten an Apology, were all of the ſame opinion with our Author, and if you will have the rea­ſons of theſe and other learned men, why they have allowed Reaſon to Beaſts, take theſe in brief. That moſt Animals have organs fit, and faculties like ours; In Anatomy the ve­ry cells of their brain nothing different; that their induſtry not onely equals but often ſur­paſſeth that of man; Eſſences and Properties are known but by effects: It is not more rea­ſonable to conclude that Beaſts doing reaſon­able things, have a reaſonable Faculty, then to affirm that the effects are not reaſonable, becauſe Beaſts have not a reaſonable Faculty? the Effects appear, the Power is occult. That they ſeek neceſſaries without being inſtruct­ed, and of themſelves invent the means to acquire them, that they are capable of diſci­pline even contrary to their own Nature, that moſt of them can diſcern things, and can ac­commodate themſelves to time, place and o­ther circumſtances, and accordingly operate diverſly; ſo that no man can deny but that they act formally for ſome end, and know both that as the end and the means to attain it as means; nay more, that they tend to a felicity proportionable to their Nature, Plea­ſure being their higheſt good, and Grief their extremity of ill. To conclude, the greateſt difficulty ſeems to be in the terms; thoſe who call it Inſtinct, cannot deny but it acts with Reaſon; and thoſe that allow them Reaſon, deny it to be Intellectual. Now if you re­quire examples out of Hiſtory to confirm this opinion, If Plinies Elephant repeating his Leſſon in the Moon-ſhine is not to be cre­dited, nor Ptolomies Stag who underſtood Greek, nor Plutarchs Dog who could coun­terfeit rhe very convulſions of death; nor that Gooſe which was Diſciple to a Philoſo­pher; what ſhall we ſay to an Ape that could play at Cheſs, or of another that had learnt ſome touches upon the Gittar. But let who will judge of Francis the Firſt's Dog; that King having loſt his Gloves as he was hunt­ing, and having ſent him in ſearch of it, and he after a tedious inquiry returning without it, being remanded by his Maſter, runs di­rectly to Paris, and leaps up at a Stall where he had formerly obſerved Gloves hang out, and tears down a pair and carries them three leagues back again to the King. Let them I ſay judge whether this action were not from Diſcourſe; ſure I am it could not be from his ſcent.

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

T. N.
1

A DISCOURSE OF THE KNOWLEDGE OF ANIMALS.The Introduction.

IT's ſtrange, that Man, who believes him­ſelf Natures maſterpiece, and that it is his right to command all that is in the Univerſe, ſhould not have informed himſelf of that Title which gives him theſe advan­tages; and that he knows not wherein the excel­lency conſiſts wherewith he flatters himſelf, not2 whereon the Soveraignty he claims, is founded. And what is the more wonderful, is. That he who hath given himſelf the liberty to aſſign to every thing the rank and order which they ought to hold in the world, and to preſcribe them the function they are to exerciſe, ſhould have forgot himſelf in this general diſtribution which he hath made, have­ing reſerved for himſelf no employment worthy of his ambition, or of the quality he hath taken. For although he boaſts, that he hath Reaſon for his portion, and that he believes it belongs to him in propriety, and that it gives him the ſoveraign com­mand over all creatures; yet hath he ſo ill explain'd himſelf therein, and ſo weakly maintained the right which may be his, that in all Ages there hath lived very great Philoſophers, who have aſſured that Beaſts had Reaſon; ſo that even there hath been Times wherein it was hardly permitted to doubt it: And that ſince the contrary hath crept into the Schools, the moſt cleer-ſighted have held it as ſuſpected, and the moſt moderate have rank'd it amongſt thoſe Queſtions which might be main­tained on either ſide. And certainly if we conſider the wonderful induſtry wherewith Beaſts perform the moſt part of their works; the ingenious fore­ſight they uſe to ſhun evil, and ſeek what is uſeful for them; the ſleights and niceties they practiſe the one againſt the other; the ſociety and the com­munication they have together, and all thoſe exam­ples of prudence, of gratitude, and of generoſity which they have given us, and which have con­vinced ſuch Great perſons: It's impoſſible but we muſt believe, or at leaſt ſuſpect that Actions which3 appear ſo reaſonable, cannot but be managed by Reaſon. For if we would refer them to Inſtinct, the nature thereof is ſo hidden, that there is no likelihood to deſtroy ſuch clear and ſtrong con­jectures, by ſo obſcure and ill eſtabliſh'd a thing; And which perhaps, if it were well known, would be found nothing different or eſtranged from Reaſon.

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

But, what renders theſe preſumptions yet ſtrong­er, is the weakneſs of the proofs whereon the con­trary opinion is grounded. For it is a thing which4 is hardly conceiveable, that Ratiocination ſhould be taken from Beaſts, without knowing the nature of Ratiocination. For certainly, hitherto no man hath exactly diſcovered wherein it conſiſts, nor what the ſoul doth when it reaſons, not what difference there is betwixt this operation of the mind, and the two others. We are well aſſured, that in the firſt the Underſtanding forms the images of things; but when we come to examine the latter where Ratio­cination conſiſts, we fall ſhort. And it is apparent, that Diſcourſe, which like light makes known the moſt obſcure things, remains it ſelf unknown, and hides it ſelf as that doth in darkneſs.

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

Let them oppoſe as long as they pleaſe, That Reaſoning requires Propoſitions and univerſal No­tions; and that it cannot be made without abſtra­ction, and ſome reflection of the knowledge it hath of its ſelf; which are things whereto it's certain the ſoul of Beaſts can never attain: Yet ſome will ſtill ſay, that it is not therein in which the reaſoning of Beaſts conſiſts; that all theſe conditions are5 ſtrange unto it; and that the Sillogiſm which is called expoſitive, is an evident ſign thereof, ſince it cannot be formed of terms purely ſingular with­out any abſtraction, and there being no need for the ſpirit to reflect on it ſelf. Whence it follows, the difficulty is not taken away ſo, but that the con­jecture which we have of the Reaſon of Beaſts, re­main in full force, and that nothing is objected which deſtroys or weakens it.

After which, who dares affirm that it is Reaſon which raiſeth Men above Beaſts, without rendring that Right doubtful which cannot be conteſted againſt him, and without putting a Soveraigncie in competition, to which all Nature hath ſubjected it ſelf? No, no; There muſt be a more ſolid foun­dation which muſt maintain his dignity, he muſt draw his perfection and excellency from a higher ſource: In a word, he muſt have ſome vertue which muſt be ſo eminent, which muſt be above all thoſe which are in Nature, and whereto the moſt perfect Animals can never attain. But we muſt yet confeſs, that he who ſhould have diſcovered ſo important a matter, hath done no ſmall ſervice to all the ſociety of Mankind; and that perhaps he hath little leſs obliged them, then thoſe who invented the moſt profitable Arts and Sciences. Beſides that he would have taught them the greateſt and moſt precious things it hath, that it would have put the advanta­ges and prerogatives it hath out of conteſt, and it would have juſtified the Empire it pretends, ſhew­ing that it is not a Tyranny as it's reproached with­all, but a juſt and legitimate dominion. It would without doubt withdraw them from the danger6 they are in at every moment, not only to commit an injuſtice againſt Beaſts and againſt it ſelf, but even alſo ſome kind of impiety towards God. For, in the doubt wherein we are, that Beaſts have reaſon; if it be found that in effect they have any, as it is not perhaps impoſſible, would not the Man then be unjuſt to raviſh a good from them, which belongs to them as well as to him? Would he not do himſelf wrong, to ground his excellency and his ſuperiority on a thing which he hath only in com­mon with them? And will he not thereby ſenſibly offend the Author, in ſeeking to ſuppreſs ſo glori­ous a badg of his power and of his wiſdom?

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

After having therefore carefully enquired the Nature of theſe Faculties, and having made (as I thought) ſome conſiderable Obſervations, and which had not been made before, I thought I was obliged to divulge them, and that I could not ſup­preſs7 them without betraying the common cauſe. So that the Treatiſe of the Characters of the Paſſi­ons, wherein I have engaged my ſelf, having given me way to acquit my ſelf of that duty, I had added to the Second Volume of that Work, a particular Treatiſe of the Knowledge of Beaſts; where all theſe Queſtions are examined, and wherein I pre­tended to ſhew by new and very probable proofs, That Beaſts reaſon, and their reaſoning is formed only of particular notions and propoſitions, wherein it is different from that of Men, who have the fa­culty of reaſoning univerſally; and that this fa­culty is the true difference of Man, which marks the ſpirituality and immortality of his ſoul. This Diſ­courſe having appeared in the World with a very happy fate, and if I may ſo ſpeak, with more ap­probation then I ever hoped; To that height, that ſome men perſwaded themſelves, that the Propo­ſitions I had therein eſtabliſhed ought hereafter to be received for Truths which were not to be doubt­ed; and that no body would venture to write againſt ſo plauſible and ſo ſolidly proved a Doctrine. For mine own part, who could never have had ſo ad­vantagious a ſenſe of mine own work, and who believe beſides, that it is impoſſible for the Mind of Man to penetrate theſe profound depths, and to take off thoſe thick vails which hide the Nature of every thing; which withheld me from falling into that vanity. And I always thought, that an Opinion ſo far eſtranged from common belief, would never fail of Enemies, which would aſſault it as ſoon as it ſhould appear in publick.

Indeed, a little while after, Monſieur Chanet8 publiſhed his Book of the Inſtinct and Knowledge of Beaſts: The Title of which promiſeth an Exa­men of all what I had written on that Subject; the main deſign whereof was to ſhew, That Beaſts can­not reaſon. As ſoon as his Diſcourſe came to my hands, I fancied him to be ſome Hero of the Schools, and ſome new Hercules, whoſe Commiſſion was to damn Paradoxes, and to maintain Vulgar opinions. And I ingenuouſly confeſs, that at that time fear and hope equally divided my mind: I was afraid to find ſuch ſtrong Reaſons, that they would have ob­liged me to abandon thoſe Opinions which had been ſo well received, and which had afforded me ſo much reputation. On the other ſide, the ardent love I have for the Truth, made me hope that I ſhould therein learn divers things which were un­known unto me, and that my loſſes would be re­paired by thoſe fair inſtructions I ſhould gather from thence. But in once reading of it, all thoſe vain thoughts were taken away; and, far from making me change my opinion, it fortified me in my firſt ſentiment, and made me believe, that thoſe things which before I eſteemed but probable, might now paſs for demonſtrative, ſince they had been diſputed againſt with all the endeavours of a man of metal, who hath meditated and written ſo much on theſe things. For, this is worthy conſideration, that M.C. hath deduced no proofs to deſtroy my Reaſons, in which he hath not uſed ſome Sophiſm or Para­logiſm, as I ſhall make it appear in this Diſcourſe: And that neceſſarily his cauſe muſt be ill, ſince that with all the Memory and all the Reading which they ſay he hath, they could furniſh him with no9 lawful defence, he having made uſe of ſleights and artifices only, which ſuch men uſe who miſtruſt the ſoundneſs of their own right.

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

10I ſhould indeed have been juſtly chaſtiſed for my imprudence, had I afterwards met with in his Book ſo many picquant and malicious words which he vented againſt me, and which he hath mixt with ſome praiſes, as thoſe who infuſe poiſon with ſugar. When I ſaw thoſe ſhameful reproaches he made me; ſometimes, That my mind was diſtorted, and that I had not thought of what I had written, (p. 124) That there is not the least appearance of truth, and that it is a ſhame to ſtick at them, (p. 148.) And then. That I am ignorant of the Rules and terms of Philoſophy, (p. 240.) That I every minute fall into contradictions; and, That he can hardly believe I am Author of the Work, (p. 242.) with a hundred ſuch like, which he utters with ſcorn and reproach. No, no; this proceeding makes it evidently appear that he had no intelligence with me, that he hath defended his cauſe the beſt he was able; and that if he have brought ill reaſons to maintain it, it is becauſe he believed them good, and was ignorant of their defects. Neither would I abſolutely con­demn him for the incivility he hath treated me withall; and I ſhould rather attribute it to heat of diſpute, or the natural ſharpneſs of a Critick, then to any ill will he could have againſt me. I know, that in combats of pleaſure and divertiſement, it is almoſt impoſſible but ſome angry touches muſt be given; and that blows cannot be handled ſo dex­terouſly, but ſome will be ruder then they were in­tended. But what was to have been deſired in thoſe of M.C. 'tis, that he ſhould have behaved himſelf pleaſantly, and like a gallant Fellow, and not have accompanied them with a pedantick ſeverity, which11 appears through all his Diſcourſe, and which will oblige many men to believe, that Paſſion rather then Truth hath armed his pen againſt me. There are even ſome already who have made this judg­ment, having obſerv'd how he introduced my Name to the Title of his Book, and that he affected to repeat it in all the paſſages he was able. For, ſince it not at all concerned the queſtion, and that he might have examined my reaſons without name­ing me, even as I had done thoſe of other men. They did believe that it muſt needs have been ſome ſecret malignity, which moved him to place my Name for a Trophy in the front of his Work, and to lead it as it were in triumph through all the Pages of his Book. For my part, I durſt not judge ſo ſiniſterly of his intentions: So far was I from complaining of him in that encounter, that I find I have reaſon to thank him for putting me in the rank of the Great men he hath aſſaulted; and I ſhall never be aſham'd to have my Name appear with the Names of Mr. de Charron, and Mr. de Montagne, ſhould he even reckon them amongſt thoſe he had conquered.

It's true, if he had been well adviſed for his own glory, he ſhould never have made mention of me, nor have diſcovered that I was the man with whom he was to combat: Some might have thought, after having ſeen him enter the lifts againſt ſuch great perſons, that I were of the ſame rank, and that he choſe me as an Enemy worthy both of his ſtrength and courage. But when it ſhall be known, that it is againſt me he hath made this ſtir to lift up his buckler, and that it will afterwards appear, that12 weak and freſh as I am in theſe kind of trials, I ſhall have ſo eaſily defeated a man who would paſs for the Bravo of our Age, and who in his Writings preſents all Comers with a Challenge; it is to be feared, it may much diminiſh the credit he may have, and leſt he be accuſed for a weak and quarrelſom perſon, who ſeeks to gain reputation at the expence of another man's.

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

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

13Having conſidered, that the proof which hath been uſed to ſhew, That Beaſts reaſon, did not not convince thoſe who hold the contrary opinion, and that they ſhifted off all the ſtrength of it by the word Inſtinct; which how vain ſoever it be, forbears not to intangle the queſtion, and render the deciſion the more doubtful; I imagined the Truth was to be ſought in the ſource; and leaving Experiments which were conteſted, it might be found in Ratiocination it ſelf. I therefore would examine the nature thereof, and ſee whether there were any thing which Beaſts could not do, and which ſurpaſt the force of the Imagination, and of the other faculties which all are agreed they are endowed withal. But as Reaſoning is a Knowledge, and that there are three ſorts of Knowledge, to wit, The firſt Conceptions, the Judgment, and the Diſ­courſe: I thought it was fit to be known, wherein all three of them conſiſted, and what action the ſoul performed in every of them. Having therefore found, That in the firſt ſhe forms the images of ob­jects; in the ſecond, ſhe unites or divides two of thoſe images; and in the third, ſhe collects together three, of which ſhe compoſeth ſeveral Propoſitions which form Diſcourſe: methought that all the dif­ficulty was reduced to this point, to wit, To know whether the Imagination can unite or divide images? For if it have that power, it muſt of neceſſity be able to make Propoſitions, and in purſuance, Reaſon­ings.

This is the principal Subject of the Treatiſe which I have brought to light: The firſt Part whereof is wholly employed to ſhew, that the Ima­gination14 can form and unite ſeveral images, and by conſequence, that it may conceive, judge and diſ­courſe. The other Part contains the Anſwer which is to be made to the ſtrongeſt Objections which may be propoſed againſt theſe Truths, and prin­cipally to thoſe which are drawn from Cuſtom and from Inſtinct; where I have explicated the Nature of thoſe Cauſes, and made it appear that they cannot act without the help of Reaſon.

This order was not pleaſing to M.C. and in the Examen he made, he hath not only begun his Book by a Diſcourſe of Inſtinct, but he would alſo have it believed that I had done ill in not following that Method, ſeeing I held, that the Inſtinct ſuppoſeth a natural knowledge, and that natural knowledges ought to be treated before thoſe which are acquir'd. But he ought to have conſidered, that all my deſign was to ſhew, that Beaſts reaſon; and that what was to be ſaid of Inſtinct, ought to be but an incident to the queſtion. So that if I had begun from thence, I ſhould have placed the Acceſſory before the Principal, and the Objection before the Concluſion. On the other ſide, had not this conſideration ob­liged me to follow this Method, could he not have remembred that there are two ſorts of it; the one which begins by thoſe things which in themſelves, and naturally are moſt evident; the other which begins by thoſe, which in reſpect of us and by the ſenſe, are moſt evident. That both the one and the other is good; but that the latter hath this advan­tage, that it is more conformable to our ordinary way of knowing, which begins always by ſenſible things. So although without a fault I might have15 firſt ſpoken of Natural knowledges, which are firſt in the order of Nature, and conſequently more evident in themſelves then thoſe which are acquired; ſtill methought it was better to begin by thoſe which were acquired, which are moſt ſenſible, and there­fore in our own reſpect the firſt and moſt evident. In effect, ſince I was to ſhew that Inſtinct ſuppoſeth a natural knowledge, and that before that I was to ſeek wherein Knowledge in general conſiſted; Could I have arriv'd by any ſurer way then by certain and indubitable Experiments which we have through acquired Knowledge, eſpecially having none through the Natural.

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

For, I thought it was fit to make an abridgment of all what I employed in my firſt Treatiſe, and afterwards faithfully to produce the objections of M. C. without troubling the Reader to ſeek elſ­where to clear himſelf concerning the ſubject of our16 conteſt. I therefore divided my Diſcourſe into four Parts.

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

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

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

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

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

But I have not only ſought for him this ſeaſoning in the civility of my cenſure, and in the innocency of my raillery, I have endeavoured to ſlip in ſeveral Queſtions, which by their novelty may divert the mind of the Reader, and untire him from the troubles17 which our Conteſt may have given him; for with­out doubt he will take pleaſure to know

1. Whether external Images enter into the Me­mory.

2. What the word Eſt (Is) ſignifies in Propo­ſitions.

3. How the Imagination may make negative Propoſitions.

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

5. Whether Beaſts doubt.

6. Whether they hope, and whether they fear.

7. How they know the time to come.

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

9. What Action the Soul performs in Rea­ſoning.

10. Whether one may reaſon in an inſtant.

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

12. What the Nature of ſpeech is, and of ſuch like, which I have inſinuated into this Diſcourſe; Wherein M. C. may if he pleaſe exerciſe himſelf, but whereof he is not to expect from me any re­ply; For if he produceth better reaſons then mine, I from this very time conſent unto them; and if they are as weak as thoſe which he hath already brought, it may be lawfull for me to continue in my opini­ons and to apply my ſelf to better things then to prolong a Proceſſe where all the profit rather ac­crews to him who hath loſt it; ſince he gaines both18 the time and the truth. Lets quickly diſpatch this therefore, and begin with the firſt Part.

But firſt of all it is fit, That the Reader ſhould be advertiſed, that the word of Imagination which is ſo frequent in this work may not be here taken for a diſtinct faculty of the common ſenſe of the phan­cy and of the eſtimative, as they do commonly in the ſchools; But for a generall Faculty which compre­hends all the powers of the Senſitive Soul which ſerve for knowledge. In the ſame manner as the word underſtanding comprehends all the faculties of the intellectuall Soul, which make things to be known. Such as is the Apprehenſive, the Cogitative, the, Diſcourſive the Agent and Patient Intel­lect &c. In effect all theſe different faculties which are to be found in the Senſitive Soul, have in com­mon amongſt them That they know, and conſe­quently there is a generall Faculty which knows, which is afterwards divided into as many peices as there are ſeverall ſorts of Knowledges. Now this generall faculty having no particular Name, may by the example of divers other genders take the Name of one of thoſe ſpecies, and principally that of the Imagination which is the moſt conſiderable, and moſt known. This is practiſed alſo when in the de­ſtinction of the parts of the Soul, the Imagination is oppoſ'd to the Appetite, even as we oppoſe the Underſtanding to the Will. For its certaine, that in this caſe the Imagination & the Underſtanding com­prehend all the knowing faculties, as the Appetite and the Will expreſſe all the motive faculties, of the Soul. Howſoever it be, by the word Imagination,19 I here underſtand the Senſitive faculty which knows the things without ſpecifying any of its diffe­rences, the examen whereof conduceth nothing to my deſigne.

I am alſo to add to this advertiſment, that the diviſion of the Chapters and Articles was made after the work was ended; for it interrupts not the ſe­quel of my diſcourſe, and requires not thoſe great pawſes which in other matters were requiſite. The Critick alſo who is oblig'd in a continuall combate, cannot regulare his quarters as an Army would do which hath no enemy before them. Without ſtop­ping it purſues its adverſary, and gives him no re­leaſe till it hath vanquiſhed him: Its thus that I have behav'd my ſelf in the heat of my diſputation, not minding the diviſion of my work into ſo many Sections, but becauſe a long Diſcourſe without any, diſturbs the mind and eyes of a Reader, I afterwards adviſ'd with my ſelf to make ſome, and to place thoſe things in the Title, which I eſteemed moſt re­markable, that at firſt ſight the Reader may chuſe thoſe Subjects which might be moſt pleaſing to him, without ingageing himſelf in others which were not according to his guſt; But as this manner of reading will be more advantagious to him then to me, and may leave him ſome doubts which may make him have a ill opinion of my reaſons, I ſhall begg thus far from him, that he will not condemne them untill he hath read the whole work, and without having examined the principes & foundations which I have therin eſtabliſhed And then if he cannot approve them, I ſhall condemn,20 them, my ſelf, and employ their excuſes which the weakneſs of humane minds and the difficulty there is to penetrate into ſecrets of nature furn­iſh them withall who have recourſe thereunto.

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

21

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

IN conſidering the order which God hath e­ſtabliſhed through the whole Univerſe where the leſſe noble thing; ſerve for the degrees whereby we riſe to the moſt excel­lent, and all of them have ſome beginings of that perfection which is more full and perfect in theſe; A man might eaſily perſwade himſelf, that ſince the Senſitive Soul is ſubordinate to the Reaſo­nable, ſuch a progreſſe ought to be made in their knowledge, that the firſt may be addreſſes to the latter, and that the actions of the underſtanding may have their beginning to be as it were roughcaſt in thoſe of the Imagination. And to ſpeak it in one word, ſince the underſtanding knows thing, that it judgeth of them and draweth conſequences from them, there muſt needs be ſomthing done in the Sen­ſitive Soul, which ſerves for the firſt draught of thoſe actions, and in which ſome image, and ſome22 veſtiges may be obſerved. In effect it conceives things, it judgeth whether they are good or ill, and concludes either to follow or to fly them: And to perform theſe actions, it uſeth the ſame way as the Underſtanding doth. For as it judgeth and reaſoneth by uniting things which are divided, and by divi­ding thoſe which are united, it doth nothing but u­nite and ſeparate the images of objects, to judge of what is good or ill for the Animal. It is true, that ſhe doth it very imperfectly, both becauſe her power is of no great extent, and becauſe her know­ledges are as the firſt ſights wherewith the Soul views things, and the firſt Eſſays ſhe makes to diſ­cern them.

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

This action is a producti­on of the Image.Now becauſe Knowledg cannot be otherwiſe con­ceived23 but as a repreſentation of the objects which are made in the mind; If the Senſitive Soul knows, and if to know is to operate; it of neceſſity muſt preſent it ſelf with the objects; And becauſe it can­not otherwiſe repreſent a thing but by forming its picture, it follows that in knowing things, it forms pictures and images of them, and that there is no o­ther action which may be attributed unto it pro­portionable to the perfection and excellency of its Nature.

To confirm this truth, we have in purſuit ſhewed,Their images are different from the action. that theſe ima­ges ought to be different from thoſe which come from without.

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

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

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

Their Images repre­ſent the Accidents and their Subject.This latter propoſition, which ought to ſerve as a principle, to ſhew the impotency which the Imagination hath to make ab­ſtracts24 and univerſal Notions, was maintained by four Reaſons.

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

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

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

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

So that we may from thence conclude, that to ſpeak properly, the Imagination is not ſenſible, and25 knows not the colour nor the heat, but what is colou­red and what is hot; and although it ſeem as if there were nothing but the colour which preſents it ſelf to the eye, and that the heat only ſtrikes the ſenſe; yet when the Imagination thereupon comes to form its Fantaſme, it mixeth the image of thoſe qualities with that of the body, and confounds the Accident with the Subject; Becauſe it can operate onely con­formable to its nature which is compoſed, and to its end which is the knowledge of the ſenſible bo­dy; And therefore the fantaſm it produceth muſt be in ſome manner compoſed, as it is, and as the ſen­ſible body alſo is.

Theſe are the Reaſons which have made us be­leeve that the Imagination it ſelf forms its Images; That it forms them on the ſenſible ſpecies, which the objects convigh through the organs of the Senſes. That in forming them it knows the things it repre­ſents. And laſt of all, That no created Nature can know otherwiſe then by producing in it ſelf the Images of the things which come to its Know­ledge.

But as to what may be ſaid,The Images which are in the Memory, do not make Knowledge. that Knowledge conſiſts not in this production of Images, ſince we know thoſe things which have preſerved themſelves in our Memories, and that it is not neceſſary that the Soul ſhould form thoſe Images, ſince ſhe findes them already formed; We did anſwer, That although the Image of an Object be in the Memory, yet it therefore makes not Knowledge, becauſe the Imagination knows it not if it operate not on it. Now it hath no26 other operation but the repreſentation which is the production of the image: And therefore al­though the image of that object be in the Memory, The Soul can have no knowledge of it, unleſs ſhe form another in herſelf; and as often as ſhe would know it, ſo often muſt ſhe make new figures, which muſt be as new colours laid upon her firſt deſign: We muſt not alſo ſtick at the inconvenience which might happen from the mutiplicity of images which the Soul may form of the ſame thing: For as much as even as the two images which are received by the two eyes, or by the two ears, confound themſelves in one, and repreſent but one onely object; ſo alſo the phantaſms which the Soul forms of the ſame thing, unite themſelves in one onely; and the multiplicity ſeems but to render it the more expreſs; and that's the reaſon for which the Memory for〈◊〉it ſelf by re­petition, foraſmuch as the images it keeps are re­freſhed and renewed by thoſe which the Soul adds a freſh, and are as it were touched again with new touches and new colours.

Yet they are ſervice­able to it.Now although the images which are in the Memory make not Knowledge, yet are they not unprofitable unto it, for that they ſeem to reproduce it another time; for as it is neceſſary to Beaſts to remember paſt things, that they may provide for their preſervation: its fit there ſhould remain in the abſence of the exte­riour objects, ſomething which may bring them to the fight of the Soul again, which might ſupply the defect of exterior ſpecies, and which by conſequence may ſeem to the ſame uſe whereto they were imployed. That as theſe are nothing elſe but examples, on which the Soul27 forms its phantaſms, that it may know things: So thoſe phantaſms which remain after in operation may ſerve it for new models, wereon ſhe makes new repre­ſentations, and new knowledges.

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

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

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

Theſe are the principal points which we have im­ployed28 in the firſt part of the Treatiſe of the Know­ledge of Beaſts: Now let us ſee what M. C. hath oppoſed againſt them.

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

P. 41. of M. C's. Book.FIrſt he condemns the order which I have obſerved in Nature, and will not have the perfection which is found in the moſt noble, to begin by thoſe which are inferiour to it, in thoſe things which are ſubordinate the one to the other: In his firſt aſſault, the ſpirit that moves him may be diſcerned, and the deſign he had to ſpare nothing, when he ſhould meet the occaſion, ſince he trou­bles himſelf to deſtroy a thing which cannot hurt him, and whereof I pretend to take no advantage; and that he therein imitates thoſe paſſionate Ene­mies, who beat down the ornaments of the Towns they beſiege, although they can do them no hurt, nor ſerve for the defence of the beſieged. For the Propoſition which he would ruine, was placed at the entry of my Diſcourſe but as a pleaſant Avenue, or as a piece of Architecture, which makes no part of the Edifice which I would build: In a word, it is the Preface of my work which ought not to decide the queſtion I was to diſcourſe, but onely to pre­pare the Readers minde, and to give him ſome ſuſpi­tion, and ſome conjecture of that Truth which I29 would ſhew him. Neither is it to be found in the rank of thoſe proofs which I have imployed to eſta­bliſh it, although I ought not to have forgotten it, had I made a fundamental reaſon of it, as M. C: imagineth. For although it be moſt certain, yet is not fit to perſwade all kindes of mindes, and I very evidently foreſaw, that the Application I muſt have made thereof might have been conteſted: After all, if I ſhould have uſed it, as a neceſſary principle to my deſign, I would not have propoſed it naked and ſimple, as I did; I would have maintained it with Reaſons, and with an Induction which might have convinced thoſe who would have doubted of it.

This had been nothing difficult for me to have done, ſince Philoſophy teacheth us, that in all the order of things, there is ever one firſt which poſſeſ­ſeth in perfection that Nature whereon the order is eſtabliſhed; and that all thoſe which are inferiour to it, have onely portions of it, which are greater or leſſer, as they draw neerer or are eſtranged far­ther from it; So fire is the firſt amongſt hot bodies, Heaven amongſt the Diaphanous, the Sun amongſt the Luminous, and ſo of all the reſt: And every of them hath in the ſovereign degree that quality which ſerves for the foundation of that order wherein they are. All that are under have it more or leſs weakned. It is not in the qualities onely wherein this diſpoſition is to be found; it's re­markable even in the eſſence, and in the very ſub­ſtance of things. For there is a firſt being which poſſeſſeth all the extent, and all the perfection of the eſſence, of which the reſt are but little portions,30 which are ſtill diminiſhing to the very matter, which is almoſt a nothing, and a Non ens.

The Platonick Philoſophy is full of theſe con­ſiderations, it acknowledgeth a firſt One, a firſt Good, and a firſt Fair, of which all the reſt are but participations. Ariſtotle even wills that in the order of Subſtances, there are ſome more ſubſtances then the reſt; that Form is more then Matter; That the firſt is more then that which is called the ſecond. And to draw nearer to our Subject, There is no faculty in living and animated things which enter into order, wherein the ſame participation is not ob­ſervable. There are plants which nouriſh, which en­creaſe and multiply ſome more then others; and thoſe who know their Nature well, may ſee that the moſt perfect in every kind hath that vertue which is fit for it in a ſoveraign degree. What inequality will not be found in the diſtribution of the Senſes, if we would meaſure the difference which there is amongſt Animals? for the ſight, from the Mole to the Eagle; for ſmel, from Inſects to the Dogs; for touch, from Spunges, or if you will from the ſenſi­tive Plant to Man; and ſo of all other Animal Ver­tues. In fine, he who would conſider all the gen­ders of things, he will finde ſome ſpecies which are as bonds which unite them together, and as ſteps which inſenſibly lead from the one to the other; for amongſt Stones and Plants, there are Stone-plants found; amongſt Plants and Ani­mals there are the Zoophytes amongſt fiſh and Terreſtrial Creatures we finde the Amphibious, ſo far, that even to preſerve this order, there muſt often have been ſpecies in ſome ſort monſtrous to31 place amongſt thoſe things which are moſt oppoſite; ſuch is the Bat amongſt Birds and four-footed Beaſts; for it's a monſtrous Bird which hath neither feathers nor bill, which hath teeth and breaſts, and which goes on four feet although it have but two. Such is the Triton amongſt Aquatick Creatures and Man; ſuch alſo betwixt him and terreſtrial Animals is the Guinny Monkey called Banis, and a thouſand ſuch like, which may be obſerved running over all the ſpecies which are in the Univerſe. All which evidently make it appear, that it's a Law which Na­ture hath impoſed to make an eſſay of her works in the meaneſt things, that ſhe might compleat them in the higheſt, and that in thoſe ſhe might put the beginning of that vertue which ſhe intended perfect in theſe; Which being ſo, had not I reaſon to leave this ſuſpition in the Readers mind, That the ſame might be in that of Reaſoning. And ſince the Sen­ſitive Soul was ſubordinate to the Reaſonable; and even therein there muſt be ſome veſtiges and ſome rough-caſts of reaſon which were perfect in this: At all adventures, it was a propoſition which was to be made good by the proof I was to make of the rea­ſoning of Beaſts. And I ſhould have been guilty to have ſuppreſt it, ſince it may ſerve for a new exam­ple to confirm that fair diſpoſition which the wiſ­dom and providence of God hath eſtabliſhed in the World.

So that M. C. hath not onely groſly abuſed himſelf when he did beleeve that I made it the foun­dation of my proof, but even alſo when he would accuſe it of falſeneſs, ſince he knew not the uſe I had deſtined it unto, and that he produceth no32 reaſon which might convince it of error. He ſays well, p 41. That there are a thouſand moſt excellent Fa­culties in Minerals, the leaſt tract of which appears not in the Elements; That nouriſhment and the other parts of Vegetation are compleat in Plants, and are not began in thoſe things which are inferior to them; That Sight, Memory, and Imagination are onely to be found in Animals.

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

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

33So that M. C. objects, That the vegetative Fa­culties of Plants is not to be found in things inferior to them, and that the Senſitive are onely in Ani­mals.

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

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

Many things might be ſaid on this ſubject, were it for my purpoſe; but as I hold them indifferent, nei­ther will I examine whether ſpecifick Vertues are the moſt perfect, and in what ſenſe it may be true: I will content my ſelf to ſay by the way, That pro­perly they are not in order, becauſe they are incom­municable and indiviſible, and that there muſt be ſomething which muſt communicate and divide it ſelf, to form that order of which we ſpeak, which is an order of dignity and perfection. They are then onely by accident, that is to ſay, becauſe they are joyned to things which may truly be brought into34 order: It is juſt as if in tranſparent bodies, ſome were marked which were hot; for as hot it could not enter into this order but by accident, to wit, be­cauſe it was found joyned with that tranſparency. We might even aſſure that the Species and the ſpe­cifik Vertues are in order but as the marks of the order; foraſmuch as the ſpecies is as much as the numbers make, not the ordered but ſerve for marks to the order which is made: For as the numeral quantity (if it be permitted to ſubſtitute this word to that of the Schools) is that which divides it ſelf, and that every diviſion is marked by ſuch a ſpecies of number which is indiviſible, and which cannot be augmented not diminiſhed, without loſing its name and nature. So the Eſſence being ſeverally di­vided to all beings, makes as many ſpecies, as it ſuf­fers diviſions, and every ſpecies is the mark of ſuch a diviſion, and of ſuch a ſhare which is made in the Eſſence; Now the mark of the order is of the or­der but by accident. But this is not the place to deepen theſe things; let us content our ſelves to conclude, That ſince ſpecifick Vertues are capable of no order, they being neither to be divided nor ſeparated, M.C. hath ill taken his meaſure, when he oppoſed them to the propoſitions I made, which ſpeak onely of things which may be ordered and diverſly divided.

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

But as the things we now treat are not eſſential35 to our queſtion for the reaſons we have ſpecified, and that this objection conſiders the grounds, this is not a place to examine it, and I ſhall anſwer it in the fourth part of this work, where I ſhall make it appear, that the more or the leſs marks, and often, cauſeth different ſpecies.

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

CHAP. II. That Knowledge is an Action and a Producti­on of Images.

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

But M.C. deals not fairy here, or elſe he mind­ed not that the word Senſitive is a preciſe term which marks the particular reaſon in which the Soul ought here to be conſidered, and which for that cauſe is equivalent with thoſe which the School calls Reduplicatives, which if it be ſo, my Propoſition admits of no difficulty: For it is cer­tain, That the ſenſitive Soul as ſenſitive, hath no other function but Knowledge; becauſe to be ſen­ſible is to know, and that Senſitive means the ſame36 thing as Knowledge. Now its true, that the ſoul, as a Knowledge, hath no other Function but Know­ledge, and if it produceth other actions, it is no lon­ger as ſenſitive and as knowing.

But were it true, that as ſenſitive ſhe had other powers; yet muſt that ever which knows things be more noble then all the reſt, as M. C. confeſſeth himſelf, p. 42. So that we may always from thence conclude, that its an active power, ſince the reſt which are inferior to it have the Vertue to act. So that the reaſon which we have eſtabliſhed remains in full force, and neceſſarily proves, that Know­ledge ought to be an Action; in effect it hath been drawn from the confeſſion of M. C. which made him forſake Fracaſtors part, although in his opini­on no man hath ſo well ſpoken of Knowldge as himſelf. It is therefore agreed amongſt us too, that Knowledges an Action; but he conſents not with me, that this Action is a repreſentation; otherwiſe he would be forced to confeſs, that there is no other means of knowing, but by forming the images of objects, becauſe no repreſentation can be made but by making the picture of the thing which is re­preſented. And truly there is a great likelihood that this reaſon hath convinced him, ſince he who pardons not even the leaſt ſyllables, found no­thing to ſay againſt this conſequence, and content­ed himſelf to remit the deciſion thereof to Fracaſter who is of opinion quite contrary to his: How­ever it be, if he did certainly beleeve that Know­ledge conſiſted not in this repreſentation and pro­duction of images, he ought to have taught us what action it was the faculty performed in that en­counter,37 and not to have imitated thoſe ill pleaders who always reſerve themſelves to deduce their rea­ſons in time and place; The Tribunal of Philoſo­phy ſuffers not thoſe delays and thoſe eſcapes; it wills that every man clearly would contribute to the Knowledge of the Truth, and bring into ſo­ciety as into the publick Treaſure all thoſe riches he thinks he hath diſcovered.

Yet is not this M. C's. opinion, who in ſeveral places of his work highly proteſts, That he ought to eſtabliſh nothing that he held the Negative, and that he is Defender onely to ſuch an inſtance. Where­to notwithſtanding we may by the way ſay he was not called, neither was he more conſiderable then an infinite many, who are as much intereſſed in the queſtion as him ſelf. But we treat not here of forms; the ground muſt be examined, and we muſt ſee what other action beſides what we have ob­ſerved, may intervene to form Knowledge; for it is true, others as well as M. C. have thought that it was not ſufficient to know things for the faculty to receive the images; that beſides that, it ought to perceive, to conſider, and to comprehend; but thoſe who will well conſider theſe terms, will finde they leave the thing as doubtful as at firſt. For a man may ask what it is to perceive, conſider or compre­hend images; what the ſoul doth in conſidering them, in comprehending them, in perceiving them? Is it that ſhe applies and unites her ſelf to them? Beſides, the application is no principal action, and is but a condition to act. There is no action appears therein which anſwers the nobility of ſo high a Fa­culty. Is it not that ſhe enlightneth and illuminates38 them? Theſe are the Metaphorical terms which do not clearly expreſs things, and all thoſe brightneſſes and lights produce nothing in theſe matters but ob­ſcurity. Not therefore to ſtick at the vain and un­profitable manners of ſpeaking, and without being concerned in M. Cs. quality, who makes profeſſion to deſtroy all, and to eſtabliſh nothing; Let us conclude that there is no other means to know, but to form images, and that there is no action that can furniſh us with the knowing Faculty, porportio­nable to the excellency of its nature as that is; ſince by that means, it in ſome manner makes the objects it knows; that it transforms it ſelf into them, and as Ariſtotle ſays, That it makes it ſelf all things.

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

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

39

The ſenſible Species enter not the Memory.

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

All thoſe who have ſpoken of the viſible ſpecies, have ſaid that they had no permanent being, be­ing in a continual flux, that their preſervation de­pended on a continual influence of the cauſe which produced them, and that it communicated it ſelf but in right lines: If this be ſo, as experience hin­ders us from doubting, I would willingly ask how thoſe ſpecies which enter the Eyes may be conveyed into the Memory; and if this Faculty be placed in the bottom of the Brain, as all the world beleeves, what courſe can they hold to go ſtreight thither, ſo many turns and obſtacles being to be met withal in the nerves, and in thoſe other channels through which they are to paſs? For it's to no purpoſe to oppoſe unto us, that they render themſelves there, by the ſeveral reflections they make, ſince the ſub­ſtance of the Nerves and of the Humors is too groſs to give them a paſſage, and that the reflexion ſo many times doubled, weakens the images, and repreſents the objects but confuſedly; but if they could arrive at the Memory, could they ſubſiſt there, ſince they have no permanent being? This without doubt cannot be conceived without contradiction; for if it be their nature to be in a continual flux they can never be fixt and permanent, no more then the motion: And 'tis the reaſon they40 of themſelves vaniſh as ſoon as the object diſ­appears; foraſmuch as loſing themſelves in the ſame inſtant that they are produced, they had need be renewed from one moment to another: And if the cauſe which produceth them abſent it ſelf, it can make no more of them. If it were then true, that the Memory might preſerve them in the abſence of the Objects, it muſt ſupply their defect, and it muſt with them have the vertue to produce them unceſſantly. Now if ſhe had that vertue, ſhe might form them all alone without help of the Objects; it would not be needful to have ſeen Colours, to remember them; and blind men might judge of them as well as the clearer-ſighted. On the other ſide, if the viſible Species are nothing but the Rays of Colours, which (to ſpeak properly) are but weakened and diminiſhed lights, as we have ſhewed elſwhere; the Memory to produce theſe ſpecies muſt have interior colours, and be truly colour'd as well as the objects which produce them.

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

41

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

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

M. C. adds, That it would from thence follow, That the Imagination ought to make univerſal and40 ſpiritual conceptions, ſince the Ʋnderſtanding makes them. But I ſhall deſire him to tell me whether he of a truth believes this Conſequence which he draws from thence to be good: The Ʋnderſtanding forms images; Therefore the Imagination forms ſpiritual images. For I did not ſay, The Underſtanding forms ſpiritual images; but I ſhewed, That it forms its images becauſe they are ſpiritual. This is called in the Schools. To argue from things call'd ſimply to thoſe which are conditional; or from thoſe which are divided, to thoſe which are conjoined. But let us to another Subject, which perhaps may be more for his advantage.

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

HAving a deſign to ſhew, That the Imagination forms not the Accidents only, but ſhe makes ſomewhat of their Subject alſo enter; and that its phantaſm is not a Repreſentation by the example of Colour, but of what is coloured; nor of Heat, but of what is hot; in a word, That all ſenſible Accidents are therein repreſented per modum con­creti, as they ſpeak in the Schools. The firſt Reaſon which I brought, is. That the Imagination is a power buried in the Matter, which ought to have an object of the ſame gender, and an action which terminates it ſelf in ſomething which in ſome41 manner is compoſed as that is. M. C. finds this reaſon very ſtrange, and anſwers, That the Ima­gination is no more buried in the Matter then the Accidents which we give for its object, and that they are as compoſed as ſhe is. But if he ſpeaks this in earneſt, we are both agreed; and he muſt with me confeſs, That the Imagination being a Faculty in the Matter, the Colour which is repreſented is alſo a Quality in the Matter: And I will have nothing elſe, but that what is hot, which is a heat in the Matter, is repreſented by the Imagination, and not the Heat by it ſelf. Yet it doth not ſeem it is at that point he means to ſtick: For he oppoſeth againſt us, That a man cannot give the Imagination an object which is of the ſame gender, nor which is compoſed as ſhe is, unleſs it be a pure Accident; ſince the Imagination is a Faculty, and that the Fa­culty is a pure Accident, as we have ſaid in the Diſ­courſe of Instinct, pag. 9.

This objection is captious; and I make an Ap­peal here to M.C. his ſincerity, to know whether it be allowed in good Logick to change the ſenſe of the Terms of which we were agreed. The que­ſtion here is concerning Phyſical Accidents which cannot be ſeparated from the Matter; and he gives us the change in Metaphyſical Accidents, which ſubſiſt only in the Underſtanding. It's true, that when we examined what the eſſential difference of Man was, we ſaid, That the Faculty of Reaſoning could not be it, becauſe it is a pure Accident, and that the difference of Man ought to be a Subſtance. Now he cannot diſavow, but that the ſearch of eſſential differences is from the ſecuring of the44 Metaphyſicks, and that the Faculty ought to be no otherwiſe conſidered but in Phyſick. So that he unprofitably labours to ruine what we have now eſtabliſhed for what we ſaid in that place. We conſider here the Imagination as a Faculty which operates: Now it cannot operate without Matter which ſerves for its organ. It cannot there­fore be conceived but in the Matter, and by con­ſequence it muſt have an Object which muſt be material, and an Action which terminates at ſome­thing which muſt be as that is compoſed.

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

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

The Imagination repreſents things all entire.

The ſecond Reaſon I brought in confirmation of this truth, is grounded on that fair obſervation, which ſome have made on the ſame ſubject I now treat; to wit, that there are two orders of things in the Univerſe, the one of which in the firſt inten­tion45 of Nature were made to be abſolute, the o­thers were deſtined to repreſent them. In this latter order are the knowing Faculties; for they have no other vertue but to know, and cannot know but by repreſenting the things; it's what Ariſtotle ſaid, ſpeaking of the Underſtanding. That it had no o­ther Nature but that of being potentially〈…〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. That is, to be able to make and to be made all things wherein the repreſentation conſiſts. Hence we con­cluded, That if theſe Faculties are deſtined to re­preſent things, they muſt repreſent them all entire, and ſuch as they are; otherwiſe it were not to re­preſent them: Even as a man would never ſay that a Painter had made the picture of a man, had he painted onely the Eyes or the Mouth. In effect, as the Members of this diviſion relate the one to the other, ſince the firſt compeehends all what is abſo­lutely, the other muſt have the ſame extent, ſo that the knowing Faculties repreſent all things which are abſolute; now thus to repreſent them, is to repre­ſent them all entire. So the Imagination which is de­ſtined to know ſenſible and corporeal things, ought to repreſent them ſuch as they are; that is to ſay, as ſenſible and corporeal, and becauſe they are not corporeal without matter, it neceſſarily ought to re­preſent them to its ſelf with its matter. And conſe­quently, the Images it makes, repreſent not onely the accidents, but even the ſubject which ſuſtains them. Its true, that its repreſentation is not exact, that it diſtinguiſheth not the ſubject from the acci­dents, and that it repreſents them but confuſedly; but it is ſufficient to ſay, It knows it. And the order44 which Nature holds in all things; would that the knowledge of the Imagination ſhould not be the moſt perfect, and that it ſhould be but the begin­ning, and as it were, the firſt Eſſay to attain the perfection of that which the Underſtanding was to form.

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

I grant him not onely, that the Picture repreſents the thing all entire, for that unleſs it were entire, it were not the thing it ought to repreſent. But it follows not from thence, that the picture ought to repreſent the Soul and the Faculties of man, for­aſmuch as that makes no part of what it ought to repreſent. If he had ſhewed, that the picture ought truly to have repreſented man, certainly it were ob­liged to paint his ſoul and his body, ſince man is compoſed of them both. And if we ſay that it re­preſents man, it is but by accident, and becauſe the underſtanding ſupplies the deficiencie; the Nature of Man repreſenting to him that which Art furniſh­eth him withall only in figure. It is not ſo with the knowing Faculties, which are as the Natural pictures45 of all things; and which by an Art, if we may ſo ſay, more excellent then all thoſe which Men have invented, have the power to repreſent the very ſub­ſtance of their objects.

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

The Nature of the Imagination is altogether Repreſentative.

He ſays, That the Imagination moves the Appe­tite; and therefore that its Nature is not altogether Repreſentative. And I deny this Conſequence, although I agree with him in the Antecedent. For the Imagination moves not the Appetite, but by repreſenting unto it thoſe things to which it ought to bear it ſelf. And to ſpeak properly, it is not moved, it is rather that which moves it ſelf in pur­ſuit of the Judgment it makes. As for the vertues which M.C. gives it, by which he pretends That in Nature is not at all repreſentative, we have already anſwered this objection, pag. 22. As well as to what he adds, That the Nature of the external Senſes is as much or more repreſentative as the Ima­gination: For if by the external Senſes he under­ſtand the Senſitive faculty which is in the Organs,48 it is not more nor leſs repreſentative then the Ima­gination, ſince its the ſame thing. He might re­member that I had expreſsly marked, That by the word Imagination I comprehended all the powers of the Senſitive ſoul which form Knowledge. For although the ſenſe of that word have not in com­mon diſcourſe ſo large an extent as I have given it, yet after I had explicated it clearly enough, there remained nothing of an Equivoke: And ſince the queſtion is of things, and not of words, which ſerve only but as they are valued, M. C. ought rather to have comprehended the thing of which I ſpake, then to have popoſed his gainſayings.

The Imagination is more repre­ſentative then the ſenſible Spe­cies. 182. At laſt he objects againſt us, That the viſible Species are more repre­ſentative then the Imagination; and that ſhe repreſents the Objects more perfectly then the Phantaſm which is in the Memory: It is what he ſhould have proved. For if he ſuppoſeth that the Imagination repreſents not the Subject of the Ac­cidents, he ſuppoſeth what is in queſtion: And if he will confeſs that ſhe doth repreſent them, he muſt alſo confeſs that the Phantaſm repreſents the things more imperfectly then the viſible. Species, ſince they repreſent only the Accidents, and that repreſents the Accidents and the Subject together. On the other ſide, the word [To repreſent] is taken actively, when we imploy it about the Ima­gination, and ſignifies the ſame with Making the picture. Now if this be ſo, the Species repreſent it not in that ſenſe, ſince they make not the pictures, and that themſelves are the pictures of things. And49 therefore M. C. deceives himſelf, when he would compare them with the Imagination which makes the pictures and images of things; That if he will compare them only with the Phantaſm, he muſt abandon the one half of his Propoſition; and for the reſt, he muſt ſave himſelf from the Dilemma we have now made him.

The third Reaſon we made uſe of to ſhew that the Imagination re­preſents ſomewhat beſides the Ac­cidents, is,Reaſ. 3. Becauſe the Ʋnderſtand­ing cannot form the Idea of a Subſtance. That if in ſome manner it do not repreſent the ſubſtance of the objects, the Underſtanding would finde no ground for thoſe Knowledges in the Phantaſm it repreſents. For, after having ſeparated all Acci­dents from it, there would remain nothing where­upon it could form the Idea of its Subſtance. Whereupon M. C. ſays, That I ſhould have added, That the Ʋnderſtanding could not know univerſal things, did not the Phantaſm repreſent the Ʋniver­ſality; neither would it know Man, did not the Imagination form a ſpiritual Image of his ſoul. I am much obliged to him for the advice he gives me: But the Laws of Logick defend me the uſe thereof, and teach me, That when a man changeth the Terms of a Propoſition which he would bring to an Abſurdity, he labours in vain, and can con­clude nothing at all. Seeing I had ſaid, that the Underſtanding would have nothing whereupon to form the Idea of its ſubſtance, did not the phantaſm in ſome fort repreſent the ſubſtance; All what M. C. could legitimately infer, was, That the Underſtanding could have nothing on which it50 could form the Idea of univerſal things, did not the phantaſme in ſome ſort repreſent unto it univerſal things. And then, although the Conſequences which are drawn from the firſt intentions to the ſecond are commonly captious; yet I ſhould freely have conſented herein, without fearing any incon­venience; becauſe that I can maintain, That uni­verſal Natures are all in every of their Individuals not formally and preciſely, as they ſay, but never­theleſs really. So that in this ſenſe it being true, that the phantaſm may repreſent ſuch an Animal; it may alſo in ſome manner repreſent the univerſal Nature of that Animal. But I will not engage my ſelf in the Combats which the Schools make on this ſubject: And that I may no longer conteſt with M. C. I ſhall grant, That the Underſtanding knowes things which are not repreſented in the phantaſms;The Ʋnderſtand­ing hath Know­ledges direct and oblique. and that by means of the Diſcourſe he makes, and the Conſequences he deduceth, he diſcovers in the objects of Natures and Vertues, whereof the Ima­gination gives him no notice. But it follows not from thence, that it knows all things after the ſame manner. Beſides theſe Knowledges which are ob­lique, there are thoſe which are direct and intuitive, whereby it ſees and knows things as they are re­preſented by the Senſes. And did not the phantaſms expreſs it, it could never attain to the knowledge of them by the way of Knowledge.

If this be thus, as no man need doubt, M. C. can draw no advantage from what he hath oppoſed. For were it true, that the Underſtanding knew51 Univerſal and Spiritual things without the help of the Imagination, it will not from thence follow, That he did know the Subſtance; of which we have ſpoken in the ſame manner, ſince there is an­oher kind of Knowledge whereby it may know it. In effect the Imagination conceiveth what is hot, what is animated: And there is no likelihood when a Beaſt ſees another Animal, that it conceives only the colour, the figure, and the motion which it perceiveth therein; but it conceiveth ſomewhat which hath all thoſe Accidents. And this cannot but be the Subſtance, which in Man ſerves for the Object to the direct knowledge of the Under­ſtanding. For in ſeparating all the Accidents which the Imagination confounded, he at laſt diſcovers that thing which is void of thoſe Accidents. So that a man cannot ſay he doth it afreſh, no more then he who finds a Treaſure, makes the Treaſure by digging the earth and putting by what hid it. In purſuit of this diſcovery, the Underſtanding imploys its oblique knowledges, and by ſeveral re­lations and divers inductions which it makes, he adds to this Subſtance other Notions which were not truly repreſented in the phantaſme, as Uni­verſality, Spirituality, and the like.

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

For as for what he adds, That he knows not why I will not have the Ʋnderstanding know thoſe things52 which are not repreſented in the Phantaſm. ſince I will have the Imagination ſhould know the Subſtance without the help of external Senſes and ſenſible Species: He makes me ſpeak there as he pleaſeth him ſelf: Had he taken notice of my words, he would have found them quite contrary to what he ſaid: And that I will have, That the Underſtand­ing knows the things which are not repreſented in the Phantaſm; And that I will not have the Ima­gination know the Subſtance without the help of the Senſes, and of the Senſible ſpecies. For al­though I aſſured, That the Imagination forms it ſelf its Phantaſm; yet I have always ſaid, that it form'd it on the Model of thoſe ſenſible Species which are receiv'd through the organs of the Senſes; And therefore it is not without their aid, as he would have that I had ſaid. Yet I know that this is not the meaning which he gives to my words, neither will I ſtick at it. And I would only obſerve this Equivoque to make it be remembred, That thoſe who undertake the Cenſure of other mens Works, ought to keep themſelves on their guard, and not to expoſe themſelves to the danger to be reprehended by thoſe they would correct.

I ſee then well enough, the Reaſon which he would imploy againſt me, is, That if the Imagi­nation may repreſent the Subſtance, the picture of which the ſenſible Species are not to make; the Ʋnderſtanding, which is incomparably more knowing and more perfect, may alſo repreſent it without the Phantaſms giving it any image thereof. But this objection is eaſily reſolved, becauſe we do not conſider here the Underſtanding in it ſelf and in its53 pure nature, which may have ſuch a power; and perhaps Souls ſeparated may thus know corporal things: But we reſpect it in the ſtate it is in us, and in its ordinary manner of acting, which requires the help of the inferior Faculties: Otherwiſe we might prove, That we had no need of eyes to ſee things, ſince a man might ſee them without, as Spirits do. 'Tis the Law which Nature impoſeth to this ſublime faculty. That at often as it is link'd to the Body, it ought to ſerve the Senſes and the Imagination, and not anticipate that knowledge which they are to give it. And ſince they are de­ſtined to repreſentation in corporal things, it ought to expect the report they are to make and take in for the ground of their firſt knowledges. Now it is certain, they give in an accompt of the very ſub­ſtance of things, for that they cannot do otherwiſe, for thoſe reaſons which we have before recited. And certainly Nature ſhould have been deceitful to have reduced all the Knowledge of Animals to exterior Accidents, and to have denied them that which was the moſt important for their preſerva­tion.

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

In effect; On what we have ſaid, That the Ima­gination confounded the Accidents with their Sub­ject; The only Reaſon he objects, is, That it is not true. For if he pretends to have ſufficiently proved54 it, Becauſe the Imagination knows not the Subject, and that the Qualities ſerve not for marks to know them; It's what is in queſtion, and conſequently cannot paſs for a proof.

Reaſ. 4. Drawn from Experience.As for the Experience I propoſed, which at the firſt ſight we have of viſible Accidents; We do not only believe we ſee the Accidents, but the Bodies them­ſelves wherein they are. He anſwers, That this ex­perience is falſe, becauſe (ſays he) the firſt ſights or ſingle conceptions can precede the affirmations and the reaſonings, without which one cannot conclude nor know a Subſtance by means of an Accident. But to what purpoſe doth he ſpeak here of Affirmations and Reaſonings? in this encounter we will not have the Imagination reaſon or affirm any thing, nei­ther is it by means of the Accident that it knows the Subſtance; at one ſight it ſees both, as it ſees the colour and the figure. And when I ſay, That it be­leeves it ſees the ſubject of accidents, it is not by the reflection it makes on its firſt knowledge, but it is in its common way of ſpeaking of ſuch things as they think they certainly know. For when any ob­ject preſents it ſelf to ſight, it is true, we beleeve we ſee it, and we think we are not deceived in that knowledge which our eye affords us; and yet for all that, we cannot ſay we make any Affirmation, Concluſion or Reaſoning. How ever it be, it im­ports me or the truth but very little, that M. C. denys the experience which ſhall be confeſſed by all other men, ſo as they be not blind. And if we would conſult with the moſt ignorant, who com­monly are the moſt certain and moſt ſincere Judges55 we can chuſe, for what concern the ſenſes; they will all ſay, that when they ſee a ſtone, they do not onely ſee the colour and the figure, but the thing it ſelf, which hath thoſe qualities; it is not that at this firſt ſight they deſtinguiſh it from its accidents, becauſe the Imagination confounds them, and con­ceives the one with the other; and if they come afterwards to diſtinguiſh them, it is the effect of their Reaſon, which ſeparates what the Imagination had confounded.

But M. C. cannot comprehend That Reaſon ſe­parates what the Imagination hath confounded; For, ſays he, if the Imagination forms an Idea of a differ­ent ſubſtance from that of the accident, it muſt di­ſtinguiſh them.

And I cannot alſo apprehend why he brings a propoſition for a proof, which is contrary both to his ſenſe and to mine. For he beleeves not that the Imagination can form an Idea of ſubſtance dif­ferent from that of the Accidents, unleſs he would deſtroy all what he hath propoſed. And for my part, I am ſo far from having had this thought, that I ever ſaid, That the Imagination repreſented the accident and the ſubſtance confuſedly, and there­fore without any diſtinction. I confeſs that this re­preſentation is made on the model of the ſenſible ſpecies, which repreſent but the accidents onely. But the ſenſitive Faculty makes none of this di­ſtinction, becauſe it cannot make it without know­ing, and that it cannot know without forming its fantaſm. Now the fantaſm ought neceſſarily to re­preſent the accidents in concrete, that is to ſay, with the ſubſtance, as we have already proved and that56 therefore it cannot diſtinguiſh the Subſtance from the Accident.

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

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

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

It were eaſie for me to Anſwer him, that the phantaſm repreſented to the Underſtanding the ground of this diſtinction, ſince it repreſents two confuſed things, which might be ſeparate, and that after it hath ſeparated what was confuſed, the ſepa­rated things which remain make it know the di­ſtinction; for the ſeparation doth not really differ57 from the things which are ſeparated, no more then the motion from the things which are moved. But to cut off theſe vain ſubtilties which are deſtroyed by themſelves if we would have the terms they are con­ceived by, we in one word ſay, that this diſtinction is rank of thoſe things which we have ſhewed in the may be known by the Underſtanding without being repreſented in the phantaſms, for whether it be pro­ved for the action it ſelf it doth, or for a general notion it forms on that action, it is certain it can have no direct knowledge of it, and that it muſt reflect and reply on it ſelf to know it.

Theſe are the chief obſervations which M. C. hath made againſt the firſt part of my work,Obſervations on the cenſure of the firſt Part. and which he hath placed at the end of his Book, to crown his Labour, and onely that he may have cauſe to tell me, That he hath ex­amined all my Reaſonings; but although there be nothing in all his work directly oppoſite to mine, having even ſought to finiſh where he began, the whole is, to know whether he hath ſucceeded well or no, and whether he had reaſon to beleeve that his ſixteenth Chapter ſhould diſpenſe him from ſtop­ing at thoſe things which I have here treated. For ny own part, after having ſeen the Title of his Book which promiſeth to ſpeak of the Knowledge of Animals, I think in ſome place he ought to have explicated what Knowledge was, and how it was to be made: And ſince he will not have them made Propoſitions nor Diſcourſes, that at leaſt he would ſatisfie theſe premiſes which obliged him to ſhew how they knew things; that is to ſay, how58 how that ſimple conception is made, which he and all the world allows them; nevertheleſs, there is no one word of all that in his whole work; and that ſixteenth Chapter which ſhould have diſpenſed him from examining what I had ſaid thereupon, ſpeaks of nothing leſs then of that firſt Knowledge, and treats onely of Ratiocination; we muſt needs afterwards ſay, that paſſion hath altogether blind­ed him, and taken from him the ſight of thoſe things which he ought moſt carefully to have exa­mined. For this was the ground of all what both of us had to ſay, ſince both of us had a deſign to ſpeak of the Knowledge of Beaſts. And if I have well proved, that they know things by forming of their images. I have a great prejudge to con­clude that they may both judge and reaſon. Since Judgment and Diſcourſe are made by the union of images, which is not ſo difficult to make as their production. And if on the other ſide he had made it appear, that the firſt Knowledge was not formed after that manner, he without doubt had much ſhaken all the body of his proofs, and he would have vaunted to have overthrown one of the ſtrongeſt Arch batteries of my work.

However it be, if he had had the true ſpirit of Philoſophy, inſtead of ſeeking that little vanity which he had of ſaying, That there were none of my Reaſons which he had not examined, and to ſpeak in his ſence, which he had not juſtled and com­bated; be ſhould have helped me exactly to have acknowledged thoſe Truths of which I had made the firſt diſcoveries: He ſhould in earneſt have ap­proved thoſe things which were conformable to59 reaſon, and have added afterwards his own light, which might have made me ſee what I did not per­ceive. Finally, he ſhould with ſome reſtraint have come to the cenſure of my Propoſitions, which are ſo glorious to the ſovereign matter of the Univerſe, and which are more capable of putting into ſpirits the admiration of his bounty and of his magnifi­cence then any other thing which is in nature; for if the ſoul can produce the images of things, and that it hath no other means to know them but that; who would not admire the wonderful fecundity which God hath given it? ſince as many times as it knows, as many times at it remembers the things it hath known, it muſt as many times produce thoſe images, and conſequently make an infinite number of them, without being tired in their production, and without draining the ſource it is drawn from: But if its alſo true, that it in ſuch a manner produ­ceth thoſe Images that they not only repreſent the ſenſible Accidents, but alſo the bodies and ſub­ſtance of things, who cannot but be raviſhed with aſtoniſhment to find here below ſo perfect an A­bridgment of the Divine almighty power, and to ſee that the ſoul in ſome manner created like a new world, and that it forms in it ſelf all what God hath made in this viſible world? After all this, if M.C. had not thought it fit, to have raiſed this Doctrine ſo high, he ſhould at leaſt have conſidered the ſplendor it was like to have given to all thoſe diffi­culties which are encountred on the nature and ope­rations of the ſoul. For beſides that, it makes it evidenly appear why repetition fortifies the Memo­ry, why the Imagination can make no abſtraction60 nor reflection, nor conſequently any Univerſal no­tion; it ſerves for a foundation, and a prejudge to ſhew that the Underſtanding operates by ſhorter means and eaſier then thoſe preſcribed by the Schools, and that at Law it's a Faculty which is not tyed to the Matter, and which conſequently is in the order of ſpiritual things.

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

The End of the Firſt Part.
61

That the Imagination can unite or divide the Images it hath formed.Wherein the Judgment conſiſts.THE SECOND PART.

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

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

62The ſecond is taken from the Diſeaſes which trouble their Knowledge and their Judgment: For we cannot doubt but that in that eſtate they repre­ſent the things quite otherwiſe then the Senſes and the Memory make them known, and that they miſtake the little for great, and the good for evil things, &c. Which cannot be done but by the mixture which the Imagination makes of Images againſt the natural order which they ought to keep.

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

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

From this Truth thus eſtabliſhed, we concluded, That the Imagination could make Affirmative pro­poſitions as well as the Underſtanding. For when it judgeth that an Aliment is good, it doth nothing but unite the Idea of Good with that of the Ali­ment. And therefore ſince the Imagination can form the ſame Images and unite them together, it may make, as it doth, Affirmative propoſitions. And indeed, ſince all the World is agreed, That63 Beaſts judge whether things are good or ill for them: It is certain that they cannot make this Judgment, without uniting the Images which they had form'd thereof. Now in uniting them, they muſt make Affirmative propoſitions even as they make Negatives, when they ſeparate them the one from the other; it being true, That if they can unite, they can alſo divide them.

CHAP. I. That the Imagination makes Affirmative Propoſitions.

I Here expected the Examen of a Philoſopher, and I do not ſo much as find the Artifice of an Orator, who diſſembles thoſe Reaſons which ſol­licit him, and paſſeth over them as if they did not deſerve that he ſhould ſtop at them and as if they were not worthy of him who propounded them; for theſe are the very words M. C. uſeth againſt me. After he had ſaid, that I had ſtrongly obliged my ſelf to have proved the Propoſition I had advanced, he would have wrought wonders in favour of the common opinion. But I would fain know what he would have done, had I well proved them; would he have confuted my reaſons? Without doubt he ought not to have done it, unleſs he would have combated the Truth. This was the place wherein he ought to have exerciſed it, ſince he did believe my proofs were invalid: And not having done it,64 he gives me cauſe to believe that he thinks ill all what he would nor examine, and that all what he hath examined is not ill; and ſo that there are but few things in my Work but are good, ſince there are ſo few which have eſcaped his Cenſure.

However it be, I think it's fit to ſee whether my proof be ſo bad as he ſpeaks it to be: For I have not only thought it worthy of me, which were a very ſlight commendation, but I have believed it's more ſolid and more evident then any he could produce. If indeed it be true, That to make Af­firmative propoſitions, the images are but to be join'd and united which are to compoſe them, as the Schools are of opinion; I thought it had been a neceſſary conſequence, That the Imagination was able to make thoſe propoſitions, if it could unite the images it form'd. And I imagined, that without obliging my ſelf any further to prove ſo certain and evident a Conſequence, it had been ſufficient to ſhew, That the Imagination could unite its images. And ſo all the queſtion may be reduced to this point, To know whether the Reaſons I had propounded did well eſtabliſh this Truth? M. C. who denies it, without doubt was never acquainted with the force thereof. For although at firſt it ſeem to prove nothing, but that the images unite themſelves in the ſoul, without ſaying that they unite them­ſelves by themſelves, or whether it be the Imagi­nation which unites them: yet if a man would but remember the foundation which I believe I have ſolidly laid, That the Imagination knows nothing, but it forms the image thereof; a man will be ob­liged to confeſs, That it repreſents nothing to it65 ſelf in dreams, in ſickneſs, and in the repetition of things which are taught Animals, but that it alſo forms the images thereof; becauſe it's evident, that in theſe encounters it knows in the ſame manner as in the others. Now if it forms theſe images it ſelf, and that diſpoſeth them after another manner then they are in the Memory, it's certain that it aſſem­bles them together, and that conſequently it makes Affirmative propoſitions.

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

M. C. ſays thereupon, That it conceives theſe things united; and that the confuſion in them is not in the Imagination, but in as much as it is in the phantaſmes wherewith the Memory furniſheth it. But if this be true, how can it be poſſible that thoſe images which are confounded in ones ſleep, ſhould ſo eaſily reduce themſelves into their order after one awakes? How after the long agitation of a ſickneſs, which hath embroil'd and mix'd them with ſo much diſorder, could they reduce them­ſelves again into their rank, and into the firm order wherein they were? If M. C. had taken care of this, he would have believed as we do, That the confuſion comes not from the phantaſmes which are in the Memory, but from the Imagination only; which in the continual motion it is, caſts it ſelf on ſeveral images, the one ſeparated from the other, without changing the ſequel and natural diſpoſition which they have together. It's juſt like a Ball, which by the ſeveral bounds it makes, falls on66 ſeveral ſquares; for its fall changeth not the order; and although it falls ſooner upon the one then upon the other, yet they ſtill remain in the ſame ſcitu­ation in which they were plac'd. So the Imagina­tion which can never be at reſt, and which is always agitated, falls on ſeveral images of the Memory, and forms thereupon the dreams and the chimera's wherewith it entertains it ſelf being aſleep. But the natural order of the figures whereon ſhe hath wrought, ſuffers no change; and when a man is awakened, the ſoul finds them in the ſame diſpo­ſition they were before. The ſame thing happens in thoſe ſickneſſes which offend the Judgment: and there is no difference, but that in dreams the Imagination commonly agitates it ſelf without be­ing ſollicited by any external cauſe; and here it is carried away by the tempeſt which is in the ſpirits and in the humors, the violence whereof is ſo great, that without being able to ſtop at what the ſenſes repreſent it withall, it runs here and there towards thoſe images which are in the Memory, and makes a confuſion of all the images it encounters; but when the ſtorm is over, all is found in the ſame condition it was, and the Images which are in the Memory have chang'd place no more then the Iſles and Rocks in the ſea ſuffer in a ſtorm.

If this be ſo, the Imagination which alone makes confuſion in theſe encounters, aſſembles the images it hath found, and ſo unites them that they make a link and ſequence together as is neceſſary to pro­duce dreams and extravagancies, which are obſerv'd in diſeaſes: And then there is no difference be­twixt the union it makes, with that the Underſtand­ing67 makes, when it joins one Idea with another to make an Affirmative propoſition.

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

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

But if it cannot make uſe of the Verb Eſt, it will not follow that it cannot make Propoſitions, be­cauſe there